#take (me) out 🥡

[patternedlantern]

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat…

[kiemiu]

voice notes your boyfriend matt leaves you pt.2 | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship drabble wc 402 (library) + (request)

one. i hope you have a good time on your girls trip..please, don't get kidnapped. i don't know what i'll do if fucking— i don't know, mafia boss zayn malik took you hostage. you might like it there, and-and i can't have you getting kidnapped by 1D in a foreign country! or whatever the hell happens in those fics.. i mean, who'd watch gravity falls with me?

two. schedules all cleared up for the rest of the day, (relieved sigh) i can't wait to come home to you. i miss you even though i've been gone for 5 hours at most. (quiet realization) i might have some sort of separation anxiety with you..

three. (in that baby voice) birthday! birthday! it's your birthday! happy birthday, yay!

four. mr. wrinkleton misses you. i think you should come over, to..cheer him up and stuff.

five. i'm not letting you put off the new clairo album any longer, i'm coming over and we'll listen to it together so i can see your reaction live, and yes, i'll stop by taco bell for you so, please, don't fill up on fruit snacks.

six. facetime date today?..i know you're not feeling well, but i—i really miss talking to you, and i've probably looked through our joint photo album like 6 times today...just wanna see my girl.

seven. "add up my looooove, oOoOoOOo, add up my loooove, honey was it enouuuGgghh? is it ever enouuu-" don't i sound just like clairo? she should get me on her next album.

eight. new psychological horror movie just came out, and i know you're into that spooky shit so i bought it on amazon prime. but it's on my account, soooo, you'll have to come over. (chris in the background: and bring pepsi!) and chris says bring pepsi, please.

nine. you left just before the rain started to pour down really hard...i hope you didn't get caught in it. and if so, stay safe and call if you need anything. if ya' need me to, i'll come get you myself and drive you back here until it calms down.

ten. i know you're most-likely taking your midday nap right now but—(sniffle) i don't know, i'm just happy to have you. you—uhm, you really mean a lot to me, so, please, don't go anywhere anytime soon. i–i don't know what i'd do with myself.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @madifilipowiczslvt @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @oliviagirlsworld @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777

[lix-ables]

⌗ rich boy things – hyunjin + car sex .

🥡 smut includes, fem!reader, dry humping, hand jobs (while he’s on the phone with his father), mentions of ruined orgasms (because he absolutely loves teasing the shit out of you), lovesick + pussy drunk hyunjin, etc etc. word count: 971. (MINORS DNI.)

💌 note: its been a while but hihi, im back!! i was initially going to post something else??? but this has been in my drafts since april

©lix-ables 2022. consider leaving comments and feedbacks !! happy reading ‹33

hyunjin was annoyingly pretty and he knew it, so sneaking around on the campus way past your curfew can be excused, right? 

here you were in his car’s passenger seat with your hand wrapped around his dick while he was on an important call. how did you know that? because he told you it was his father, and still your fingers played with the tip, your palm resting under your chin as you watch him shut his eyes. 

his other hand moves to wrap around the wrist that was currently busy, and he turns to look at you. “yes dad, i understand,” he sighs and replies. “no im not out racing. i’m with the boys. panting? have you thought maybe it's your hearing?” hyunjin clears his throat and shifts in his seat, making your hand fall on his thigh. but that gave you even more of a reason to stroke him instead of just touching him. a little teasing wouldn’t hurt no one. your thumb rubs circles on his tip before wrapping your whole hand around it, earning a small grunt from him.

“listen i need to go. they need my help with something. yes, i’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“you like what you see don’t you, darlin’?” hyunjin’s voice stops you from your task, and makes you look at him. he stares at you, smiling before setting his phone in his jacket pocket.

his hand finds your bare thigh and you curse yourself for wearing pj shorts while it was cold outside. “i thought i told you the call was important,” he mumbles, his fingers snaking all the way up to the hem of your shirt and tugging it toward him. “i want this off,” he nods at your shorts, and you bite your lip in frustration. “i thought we were here to talk,” a whimper leaves your throat when he pulls you to him. “we’re talking. this is good communication, don’t you think?” you let him pull you onto his lap, and you struggle out of your shorts in the process. “i was getting ready for bed, it’s way past curfew what if someone –” hyunjin presses a kiss to your lips, his hands wrapped around your waist and it just dawns to you, that his dick is still out, and is now between the two of you. “no one is going to come here, and you know that,” he smiles again, his finger twirling around a strand of hair that wasn’t held together by the band. 

you hum in response, the chill breeze making goosebumps form on your bare skin and you grind against hyunjin’s dick. you’re probably going to have to buy new underwear but fuck it. “this again? and you said you wanted to talk,” he smirks, tugging on the strand of hair in his hand, and his fingers find your shirt, pulling it up so he has more access. your hand wraps around his wrist when you feel him move your underwear aside, and he clicks his tongue. “baby, let me in hmmm? it’s not fair that only you get to do the teasing. it works both ways. besides, no one’s around so i could probably edge you say, four to five times? i’m sure you can take it yeah? because i sure as hell want to see that tight and pretty pussy of yours clenching around my fingers when i don’t let you come.” hyunjin tilts his head to look at you, he shifts the material a bit more before resting two fingers to your clit, and pinches it a little. your thighs shudder at the feeling and he leans back against the seat. “you’d beg me to let you come, but you won’t. you like it too much hmm?”

you nod and his hand reaches down and finds the adjustment lever at the side and moves the seat back a bit more, so there is space for both of you. “when i didn’t see you in class today, i thought something had happened,” he mumbles as he moves his free hand to stroke his dick, bringing it closer to your entrance. “i missed you today, doll.” hyunjin’s fingers work on rubbing random patterns to your clit and you feel yourself getting even wetter than you were ten minutes ago. 

“you were supposed to come pick me up, idiot,” you lean forward close to his ear and press a small kiss to his neck. your hands hold onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the leather jacket that he was wearing before going back to grind against his dick. 

“just the tip, i swear,” he rests his head at the crook of your neck, his free hand now holding you close to him as you move faster against him. you’re breathing faster now and your fingers come to rub your clit, applying more friction. “baby, let me –” hyunjin swears, his hand shivering and you turn your head to the window – it’s drizzling. the sound of rain muffling out your moans and hyunjin’s swears as he manages to guide your hips toward him, his tip close to your pussy, before entering just a little. “that’s it baby, fuck.” 

his hands rest at your lower back, his fingers slowly pulling up your shirt from the back as you ride against him. you’re mumbling something about having a real talk after this, but all hyunjin can hear is your whines and whimpers as he pulls himself out just to replace his dick with his fingers. 

“you’re coming on my tongue and my dick once we get to your room,” he grunts, feeling your walls clench around his fingers. “not yet, darlin’. hold it for me.” with his fingers now buried inside you, and your body grinding up against his palm, hyunjin meant what he said. teasing works both ways.

taglist: @hwajin @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @niinjo @chvnnie @lixhues @joonszn @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @comet-falls @hwan-g @svintsandghosts @idek-at-this-point-lol @es-kay-zee @writerracha @bbujiikseu @lethallyprotected @lino-jagiyaa

[madelynraemunson]

HEY MADDY, WHAT’S ON TV? 📺

𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 (…𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬) part 1/2

🥡 steddie x freaky friday fanfiction • RATED: NC-17 🥡

SUMMARY: Dustin’s science experiment goes horribly wrong and his two ‘bickering besties’ have to suffer the consequences.

WORD COUNT: 11.4k words

CONTENTS CONTAIN: (EASTER) EGGS, WHEAT, METAL, PARALLELISMS, A PINCH OF COMEDY, ANGST, AND LOTS OF SWEARING

ALLERGENS: CHEESY, CORN(Y), SHELLFISH (sorry eddie)

author's note: might put this on ao3 idk this one's a big boi.... hey y'all! i’m a little late to the steddie body swap train, but have arrived nonetheless! also i’m so stoked that jamie lee curtis and lindsay lohan are currently working on a freaky friday 2!! one of my fave childhood movies and i can’t believe we’re getting a parte dos :,) also, jake alan = corroded coffin in this AU

🥠

“Jesus Chr— what did you do to my hair?!”

“What did you do to MINE?!”

Perhaps a rewind is necessary. Metaphorically, of course. Time travel’s not real! ;)

      ◄ ◄ ◄  R E W I N D  🎞️

The year is 1989. Camp Knowhere. And since it’s the last year before he ages out of summer camp, Dustin Henderson is determined to 'WOW' everyone with his newest invention.

“They’re kinda like boner pills.”

“Oh...! WOW...?”

It’s not the weirdest thing Steve's heard come out of Dustin's mouth. In fact, he's practically immune to insanity at this point, having been surrounded by hormone-driven teenagers for a month and a half straight.

“Look I know, it sounds crazy,” Dustin pleads. “But imagine being able to walk a mile in someone's shoes just by eating a cookie. They'd be like the Viagras of empathy!"

Again, not the weirdest thing Dustin has said. 

And for as long as Curly keeps hanging out with Eddie Munson, his Other Older Male Friend (O.O.M.F.) constantly like he has been all summer, it certainly won’t be the last.

Being a volunteer camp counselor hasn’t panned out as expected for Steve Harrington. 

For the past six weeks, Dustin has spent most of his time locked in his cabin trying to perfect his new creation. But he's been MIA for so long, Steve hasn’t been able to teach him how to start a fire, pitch a tent, or even pick Dustin's brain about being his guest for Show and Tell. 

Making s’mores. Canoeing. Telling scary stories in the dark. Dustin and Steve are missing out on actual summer activities. The real reason he signed up to be counselor in the first place. 

But you know who has been able to spend time with Dustin?

"Eddie and I spent almost every night trying to come up with good fortunes," Henderson boasts.

Not the counselor, but the Certified Loiterer.

Steve bitterly kisses his teeth. “That’s awesome, man! But hey, speaking of spending—"

"They are so clever too. You gotta hear 'em!"

"I'm sure they are! But now that you're practically finished, I was sorta hoping—"

“AND,” Dustin adds. “if you get a good one you can add ‘in bed’ after for some comic relief.”

Steve crosses his arms as he finds himself fading back into silence.

“You are destined for great adventures…in bed,” Curly smirks, waving a fortune in Steve’s face. “You will be met with great luck this week... in bed. You are a pleasure to have around…in bed.”

“Agh, please tell me one of Harrington’s lays said that,” comes a voice. “Otherwise this interaction is very concerning.”

Dustin gasps. “EDDIE!”

Speaking of The Devil.

Like nails on a chalkboard, in walks Eddie Munson with his fucked up voice, fucked up rep, fucked up hair, and a fucked up sense of humor to match.

“Hey, Henderson,” Eddie gives a curt nod. “Hey, Steve.”

“Munson.”

“I was just telling Steve about my fortune cookies,” says Dustin. “I can’t wait to win people’s hearts over at Show and Tell, along with my spotlight secret weapon.”

“What’s your spotlight secret weapon?” Steve inquires.

“You’re looking at him,” Eddie quips. “I’m Dustin’s music act for his Show and Tell.”

There’s a pang in Steve’s heart that he wishes wasn’t there. All summer, the Retired Cub Scout had been secretly hoping that Dustin would ask him to be his Show and Tell buddy. He had so many survival skills up his sleeve that he wanted the little twerps to know before they age out. 

But the stars had other plans, he supposes.

“My friend’s friend’s dad is a music scout for Cardinal Records,” Dustin explains. “If he shows up and sees Eddie play, Corroded Coffin may have a chance!”

“Yup,” Eddie nods. “We’re performing our new song Take Me Away.”

He hands Steve a piece of crinkled paper from his back pocket, to which Steve reads after clearing the lump marinating in his throat.

“Don’t wanna grow up, I wanna get out. Hey, take me away,” Steve reads.

“Aren’t the lyrics so metal?!” Dustin beams in admiration.

“They’re uh, very edgy…” Steve shrugs.

“And incredibly fitting, when you consider the circumstances. Just wait ‘til you hear Eddie and his band perform it!”

“I think I’ll be busy with camp duties...” Steve grimaces, handing the sheet back over to Eddie. “Sorry.”

“No worries, they will just perform in your garage. They still gotta practice. Been needing another place to do so too."

Steve's eyes widen.

“What?!” he shakes his head. “Absolutely not. When did we agree on this?”

“Uh, beginning of summer?" Dustin points out. "You said you’d be willing to accommodate any of my needs. Especially since my mom’s gone to her spicy book retreat and basically threw away keys to the house.”

Steve now recalls telling Dustin that. But nowhere did it say babysitting his replacement would be in the cards.

"I'm sorry Harrington, I know I'm kinda butting in…" Eddie acknowledges.

Finally, something he and Steve can agree on.

"But we're kinda desperate at the moment, so it would mean the world. You won't even know we're there."

“It’s still no!” Harrington blubbers. “Okay? With the loud music and Eddie’s screaming, I’ll have the Loch Nora book club moms with pitchforks at my door. We have a reputation to uphold.”

“Who’s to say the Loch Nora moms don’t want in on all the angsty fun?” Eddie smirks. “Corroded Coffin’s an acquired taste, but I’m sure your… progressive… neighborhood wouldn’t mind.”

"It's not that," Steve shakes his head. "Even though we’re ‘progressive’, my neighborhood is still very much suburban-families-with-young-kids. They'd call the cops on us, for sure."

But Loch Nora was just a decoy for Steve’s true feelings. If everyone sees how cool Eddie is, they’re going to make him their Comfort Grown Up. Then where would Steve go?

Especially if they caught a glimpse of those big, brown eyes and the way they glisten in the amber sunset. And apparently Dustin’s caught wind of this Munson Magic as well; because not too long after, he’s imitating Eddie, the coercion-via-cuteness factor ramping higher on his part. And how could Steve say no to his lil face?

“Just this one time, Steve?” Dustin begs. “Please, please, pleaaase?”

“Dustin…” Steve shakes his head. 

“Pleaaase,” a pouty Eddie chimes in, slyly gazing up at Steve through his long, batty lashes. “We’ll behave, Stevie. We promise.”

But Harrington is standing his ground. Eddie already stole his best friend away from him. His gig. His spot at the Cool Adults table. Did he want Harrington’s life too?

“NO!” Steve insists. "NO!"

“YEAAAH!” Eddie croaks into the microphone while he seductively strums at his guitar. “YEEEEAAAHHHH!”

Performing in Steve’s garage was a YES-go after all. Especially if free bud has anything to do with it.

"This dude and his band are pretty good," Argyle comments as he takes a long, savoring drag from his hefty blunt. "Corroded Coffin, man. They're gonna be big one day."

"Just wait til you hear his guitar solo," Jonathan adds. "Eddie's been working on it all summer for Dustin’s show.”

The walls of the Harrington household are forced to withstand a migraine-inducing bass while everyone — but Steve —  jams out, losing themselves in a song about wanting to stay young forever.

“Don’t wanna grow up, I want to get out. Hey! Take me away…”

Jealousy festers within the host as he watches, taking in the sight of an awestruck Dustin playing his air guitar alongside Eddie, resonating with the lyrics the way he passionately yells,

“I wanna shout out, ‘take me away…away away away’…”

“Someone take me away,” Harrington’s inner monologue spews.

But it’s not that Steve hates the song, nor is he having a miserable time with everybody. It’s not that he hates Eddie or his stupid raspy voice, or the way he makes the guitar sing with every calculated twiddle of his fingers and every provocative buckling of his knees. In fact, it’s the opposite. Steve just didn’t want to admit that Dustin’s O.O.M.F. — and the other members of Corroded Coffin — were actually… pretty cool. 

And judging by the fact that Eddie was most likely Dustin’s first choice for the talent show, there was a cornier, more ominous second thing that Steve isn’t willing to admit: it’s that the exclusion really hurts him.

“Same old SHIT,” Eddie sings. “Never ends.”

“WHOA!” Harrington exclaims, waving his disapproving hands in the air.

The band stops the song immediately, the negative feedback from the amp plaguing the air while they stare around in confusion.

“What?” Eddie demands.

Any chance there was for Steve to try to humble 'The Freak', he took. And clearly this time around, there was no hesitation.

“You’re not really gonna say the S word when you perform at Show and Tell, are you?”

“The S word?” Munson retorts. “What, is this preschool?”

Ba-dum-tss! goes the drummer.

"Gareth," Eddie scowls.

Gareth Emerson digresses with a sheepish shrug.

“No," Steve shakes his head. "But it’s still a summer camp for kids.”

Eddie chuckles at this. “Come on, Harrington. Don’t act like YOU weren’t cussing up a storm at their age. The kids are all in their rebellious phase anyways. They’re gonna love it.”

Eddie’s known Steve since elementary school. This is the same guy who held swear contests, who cussed because he thought it made him look ‘mature’. The same guy that used to call women “bitches”. The same guy who almost got suspended because he and Tommy H. were yelling out slurs during an assembly, but luckily his superintendent mom was there to pull some strings to simmer it down to one afternoon of detention.

Harrington couldn’t possibly choose now to care about profanities.

“I’d rather you not bend the rules of Camp Knowhere.”

Bend the rules?!

It doesn’t take too long for Eddie to figure out that the issue goes beyond Camp Knowhere. In fact, both of Dustin’s O.O.M.F.s know that. 

 “Why the sudden change of character, Harrington?” Eddie crosses his arms. “Huh? After all these years?”

"All these years, what do you mean all these years?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

Captivated, nosy eyes bounce back and forth between the two as they argue... on and on and on and on.

“This happens every time,” Jonathan hisses to Robin at a low whisper so that they don’t hear. “Do you think they ever get tired of it?”

"I actually don't know what you mean," Steve counters. "And quite frankly, I feel like you don't seem to really know me at all."

“Hey, I’m just following your lead,” Eddie shrugs. “You never took time to get to know ME when we were in school. Unless I had something you and your friends wanted of course.”

“So all of this is MY fault?”

“I never said it was.”

It’s almost ritualistic at this point, the arguing. 

Just then, Gareth starts up again, issuing a theatrical drumroll to ease the tension. It only seems to make it worse, judging by how Eddie and Steve hiss at him immediately.

“GARETH!” “EMERSON!” 

The drummer refrains once more. 

Steve is quick to pick up where they left off. “I can read between the lines.”

“Crazy thing to say for someone who’s paid people to write his book reports.”  

“I’m just…looking out for everyone, okay?” Steve snaps, reverting the conversation back to the kids. “The children might not care, but it may look bad on the counselors. And I like my summer gig, spending time with my best friend. I don’t wanna jeopardize it.”

A self-serving response. Eddie knew to not put it past Harrington.

Regardless, Eddie chooses to comply. Not to give Steve what he wants, but because Dustin's happiness is on the line. And if his best friend is happy and Corroded Coffin gets a record deal, then Eddie wouldn’t have to deal with Steve Harrington or Hawkins much longer. 

The band starts up again and, this time, remains uninterrupted. 

Meanwhile, Steve sulks back in his seat, unable to pinpoint why he felt like the issue wasn’t resolved. But he soon realizes that for as long as Eddie Munson is part of the equation, the problem will remain a constant.

“Same old stuff,” Eddie bitterly corrects himself. “Never ends.”

“Fortune cookie, anyone?”

Two hours feel like days when everyone is stoned. And given that everyone’s too tired (and high) to drive themselves home, a sleepover at Steve’s quickly becomes inevitable. 

“Did we get the same fortune?” Jonathan asks Argyle.

“No, we didn’t,” he shakes his head. “Guess we’re not feeling sorry for each other tonight.”

Dustin chuckles.

“What are we feeling tonight? I’m thinking pizza.”

Leaving everyone else to decide on munchies, Steve and Eddie appoint themselves as the Designated Clean-Up Crew, searching for and rounding up any trash they see laying around.

“So, what are you up to nowadays?” Steve questions. “Since we graduated high school.”

“Oh, same old, same old,” Eddie offers a tense chuckle. “Still in The Biz, but the money’s good. Thankfully this time I’m doing it without my pops around.”

It strikes a nerve in Steve. He’d give anything to have his dad around. 

He also wouldn’t be proud to be in the same position as he was in high school. Didn’t Eddie want to grow as a person?

“That’s amaziiing.” Steve lies.

Uncomfortable now, Eddie clears his throat, shifting his attention back to Steve so that he can eat his own words.

“What about you? What’s The Hair been up to?”

“I work at Family Video and then help out at camp right after.”

“Try bringing that to the career fair,” Eddie scoffs jokingly.

“Sorry?”

“I said great gig you got there,” Munson perjures.

Their gazes meet for a brief, charged moment before quickly averting. 

Eddie watches Steve with both curiosity and disdain. 

This is who his best buddy is seeing on the side? It’s hard for Eddie to think of anything Dustin and Steve could possibly have in common. What would they even talk about? Maybe the new Brook Shields movie, hair gel, and their favorite ice cream flavors, but that’s just about it. And Steve Harrington doesn’t seem like the best influence for Dustin anyways.

Steve’s eyes flicker towards Eddie, trying to hide his scrutiny behind a thinly veiled expression of disinterest. 

He notes the way Eddie’s band tee has seen better days, the sleeves ripped and the print faded, and the way he absolutely reeks of Mary Jane and indistinct rubber from a Spirit Halloween store. If Dustin brought Eddie home to Mrs. Henderson, she’d probably stroke out. 

Just then, a very intoxicated Robin chimes in.

“Duuude, Eddie. It’d be awesome if Coffin got this gig.”

“Oh, I know right?” Eddie lights up immediately. “We’d be out of this rugged town once and for all and living life in the big city.”

The distaste for Eddie only amplifies with that statement. 

All of Steve’s life, he’s had nothing but good experiences in Hawkins. To have a “rough” upbringing, you had to be looking for trouble. Which is something Eddie and his father, Al seemed to have been doing since the beginning of time. 

“What’s so rugged about Hawkins?” Steve challenges Eddie.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Eddie mutters.

“I would, actually,” Steve taps his feet impatiently. “Go on, tell the class, Eddie. What is so rough-and-tough about this part of town?”

Eddie knows Steve is trying to set him up. He thinks for a moment, carefully crafting his words before speaking.

“There’s just…” Eddie says with trepidation. “A lack of equal opportunity to succeed. Always has been. But in the city, opportunity is everywhere. For everyone. Indy would be a perfect, clean slate for us.”

It’s like a sock to the face. 

Lack of opportunity? Eddie is most definitely looking for problems now. If he wouldn’t consider Steve being nice enough to lend him his garage — even when he didn’t like him — an ‘opportunity’ to succeed, then what would he consider?

“I mean, sure. Hawkins has issues like any other city, but I think there are equal opportunities for everyone,” Harrington protests. 

“Very rich coming from you, Suburbia.”

“Uh oh,” Dustin mutters.

Now Steve is pissed. 

Does Munson think that just because Steve lives in a nice house he’s never had problems in his life? With that logic, Eddie isn’t going to get himself very far. It’s very evident now, given where he currently is.

“Why can’t you accept the fact that life comes for others too?!” Steve spits. “Life is also hard for me, you know!”

“Guys…” Dustin starts.

A bitter laugh expels from the pit of Eddie’s stomach.

“Life is hard for you?!” Eddie exclaims. “It’s hard for you? How can life be that hard? Hey, I’m Steve Harrington. My life consists of Daddy’s money, wearing hair pomade to the ceiling and getting rejected by girls!”

“Hey, why don’t we play that one song again!” Jonathan suggests. “You know the take me away, away, away, away, away!”

But Steve and Eddie are way too locked in, committed to tearing each other to bits because the other one started it. Eddie wanted to play that game huh?

“Well all YOU know is complaining about the consequences of your own actions!” Steve spews in return. “Oh look, I’m Eddie Munson, I’m painfully self-unaware, I’m inconsiderate of everyone around me, and I commit petty crimes then wonder why the cops hate me. AND I still live with my uncle – AT MY BIG AGE.”

“YOU STILL LIVE WITH YOUR PARENTS, HOW IS THAT ANY DIFFERENT?”

“AND! You’re as loud as your guitar. NEW-NEW-NEW-NEWWW. How about you evaluate your priorities if you want a good life, Munson? And make sure you at least have some ammo under your belt before coming for me.”

“Wow,” Eddie laughs. “I don’t know anyone more tone deaf. You think my walk of life was a choice?! Not everyone was handed everything on a silver platter, Steve. Not everyone’s lives are perfect like yours!”

“Sweethearts, anybody?!” Robin butts in, desperately waving the candies in the air. “You are what you eat, and everyone in this room is VERY, VERY SWEET!”

But the boys are only getting started. If this is Robin’s version of sweet, she was about to know what sour is real quick.

“You think my life is perfect?! At least you have a father figure.”

“I want you to assess the room we’re in, Harrington,” Eddie implores. “Family must love you a lot if they’re letting you throw parties and use drugs that a loser like me was nice enough to hook you up with.”

“Leave what I do outside of camp out of this! You know, as a counselor I’m not sure I like my kids hanging out with some loitering criminal all the damn time.”

“Not sure I like them hanging out with someone who acts like an overbearing, insufferable parent.”

“At least I have parents.”

Simultaneous gasps fill the room. 

The color drains from Steve’s face when he realizes the damage he’s done. He watches as Eddie seemingly deflates, shrinking himself down at the shoulders, and then sulking in place. A blank stare overcasts his eyes, lips desperately trying not to quiver while in front of an involuntary audience. 

“That was not cool,” Steve breathes. “I’m sorry.”

But Eddie is past the point of forgiveness. And caring. Steve’s already embarrassed the fuck out of him, so what’s Dignity at this point? Steve won. Whatever game he was playing.

“You’re right, Steve,” Eddie nods, bitterly. “You have everything I want. So why can’t you just give me this one thing?”

Steve really fucked up this time. He doesn’t even know why he even said that. It isn’t necessarily a brag that Steve has parents if they aren’t active in his life. Did he really want the last word so badly, he willingly let his anger steer the direction of the conversation? Sure, Eddie has backed off now, but the thick veil of suppressed tears did not make it worth it.

“Here,” Eddie quips as he chucks Dustin’s invention at Steve’s chest. “You win. You want a cookie for it?”

Before leaving the room, Eddie helps himself to one as well. Steve watches ashamed as Eddie storms away, not seeming to care who he bumps into on his way out. With the intention to make amends, Steve darts after Eddie, following him to the bathroom only to have the door slammed in his face.

“Eddie!” Steve knocks. “Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I thought I’d gotten over my anger issues and pettiness, so I don’t know why I said all that. It’s something I need to work on, for sure.”

No response. Steve tries again.

“You guys sound really good…” he musters. “I wish I had the courage to put myself out there like that.”

Steve gently taps the door with two fingers now. 

“Eddie?”

On the other side of the wall, Eddie is angrily wiping away his tears, upset at himself for letting someone who wears women’s hairspray and Tiger Beat cologne get under his skin. 

Giving up now, Steve sighs to himself and turns around to prop his back against the door. And in case Eddie decides to come back out, Steve decides to wait a while longer, reading the fortune from his fortune cookie in the meantime. 

“A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another’s eyes. When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back.”

“What could that possibly mean?” Steve thinks to himself as he takes a bite from the cookie. 

And at the same time on the other side, Eddie also cracks open his cookie. A nice little dessert with some kind words are sure to make him feel better. He reads his fortune.

“A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another’s eyes. When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back.”

“…in bed,” he adds with a chuckle.

Just then the ground begins to rumble. 

The sudden JOLT causes Eddie to drop his cookie and latch onto the sink for stability. Meanwhile, Former Cub Scout Steve who knows everything about Stop-Drop-and-Roll dives for the nearest piece of furniture, crawling underneath to protect himself from any debris that may fall onto him.

“EVERYONE GET DOWN!”

“JESUS CHRIST!” Eddie yells.

Hawkins doesn’t get many earthquakes. But according to the news, Roane County was due for a big one. This could well be it. 

But as fast as the earthquake happens, it fades away. And next thing Eddie knows, he’s taking deep breaths, gathering his composure before he swings open that door. 

“Shit — Harrington, are you okay?”

Steve scans the room, looking around for any debris that may block his plight towards safety. 

“Yeah I’m fine, thanks Munson,” Steve gulps. He allows Eddie’s firm hand to hoist him up. “Just a bit shaken up. Are you okay?”

Eddie nods his head rapidly. “I’m fine too,” he insists. “I’m just worried about everyone else.”

Running back over to the garage now, a frantic Steve and Eddie call out to their friends to make sure they’re okay. But when they arrive, they’re shocked to see everyone conversing, laughing, and ordering pizza, almost as if nothing had ever happened.

Steve coughs to make his presence known. “Did you guys feel that?”

Everyone turns to them.

“Feel what?” Dustin inquires.

“There was an earthquake.”

“No, there wasn’t?” Robin cocks an eyebrow.

“Yes there was!” Eddie insists in agreement with Steve.

“Are you sure?” “An earthquake?”

“There wasn’t an earthquake.”

“What earthquake?”

“A chicken bake?” Argyle questions, clearly high as shit.

“An earthquake,” Jonathan repeats for him.

“An Earth Cake?!”

“QUAKE!” Jonathan hollers. “EARTHQUAKE!”

“EARTHQUAKE?!” the startled stoner yelps.

“No no no!” everyone yells out, doing their best to contain Argyle’s panic. “No, no, no!”

———

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington. I wish I could hate you.”

Eddie winces as his neck partially kinks, due to the fact that Steve was too short-fused to get him a pillow for tonight.

At least the futon is comfortable. After flopping around like a fish out of water for a few minutes, Eddie finally feels completely relaxed. And as he flips through his mental catalog of Dream Scenarios, the aspiring rockstar begins to drift off to Dreamland, envisioning his guitar solo and jamming out with his favorite herd of sheep.

Meanwhile upstairs, Steve is too emotionally uncomfortable to hit the hay.

“Get a grip, Munson,” Steve grumbles, angry at the thought of the freeloader below him. “If you stopped thinking the world is out to get you, maybe you’d actually see some progress in your life.”

After one last fluffing of his pillow, Steve reaches into his drawer and pops a gummy into his mouth, bracing himself for more Camp Knowhere shenanigans that lie ahead and having to deal with the Freakazoid-With-a-Victim-Complex in the morning. 

12:00 MIDNIGHT

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ [insert creepy, grandfather clock noises here]

8:00 AM

Obnoxious, fluffy duvet covers stir Eddie awake.

Maybe Steve did come with some goodies after all.

Munson begins to execute his morning routine: a gangly-limbed stretch followed by an exaggerated bellow and blissful smacking of his lips.

BONK.

A lamp on the nightstand interrupts his ritual. It is then that Eddie realizes.

He’s in a bedroom. 

“What the—” Munson mutters.

Sitting up slowly now, Eddie takes a moment to assess the room around him.

Trophies and medals. Cologne and hair gel. A work desk with a basketball net over it, and a Tommy Hilfiger pop-up shop in the closet.

He’s in Steve’s room.

But where is Steve?

Curious about the time and day, Eddie instinctively goes to consult his watch that normally rests on his wrist.

It’s not there. 

Eddie then looks at his hands…his palms… Not a single blister, callous or hangnail. Those are not his hands.

“Those aren’t mine…” he thinks to himself.

Eddie then runs some stressed fingers through his hair, only to discover that its length is half of what it was when he fell asleep last night.

“That’s not mine either.”

Eddie shoots up immediately. When he finds himself standing, Eddie notices his food belly is gone, and that six pack abs have taken its place. Eddie then stares down at his feet, which are now exponentially larger. And hairier. And his thighs, now they’re a lot bulkier.

Suddenly Eddie’s hands explore his thighs, grazing his quads shortly before going to grope the two plump mounds of tissue behind him, both cheeks comparably twice the surface area of his palms!

“That’s DEFINITELY not mine.”

Absolutely panicked now, Eddie releases his grip on the butt that isn’t his and dashes out the room.

It appears that he is somehow not in his body. And the only person in Loch Nora with a dump truck for an ass — that Eddie knows of — is Steve Harrington.

But if he's Steve, then where is Eddie’s body?

The couch.

Eddie bolts over to Steve’s living room in search of his corpse. And to his surprise, he does find himself there, the chest that was his – but not his – at the same time rising and depressing as he watches himself sleep. 

“Christ if that’s not Steve in there, then I’m dead,” Eddie thinks to himself. “And quite frankly, I don’t know which one is worse.” 

Eddie clears his throat.

"H-hello? Steve?”

Nothing.

“Steve?” Eddie attempts again. “Hey. Steve. It’s Eddie. Wake up!”

Nothing.

“This is an emergency, Steve. I need you to wake up now, please.”

He gets a good snore out of the entity. Completely frustrated now, Eddie does not hold back.

"This is alarming, Steve! WAKE UP!”

Eddie unearths the bottom half of Steve's…his… body by pushing the blanket aside. When he tugs at his legs, Presumably Steve retaliates, grabbing onto the arms of the sofa to keep him in place.

“EARTH. TO. KING. STEVE!” Eddie screams.

"Whaaat, dude?!" the host in Eddie’s body grumpily demands.

"Aha! So you are Steve!"

"Duh, who the fuck else?" It demands. "Are you still high?"

"If I was, then that would better explain this."

Steve must’ve really done too much last night. Because for a while there, the person who he assumed was Eddie sounded a heck of a lot like him.

"That’s fucking weird," Steve shakes his head, turning over to look at Eddie. "For a second there, you sounded a lot like m—AAAH OH MY GOD!"

Palms clasping his… (well, Eddie’s) mouth now, Steve can only gasp in horror.

"WHO are you?” he demands. “WHAT are you?"

"It's me! It's Eddie!" Eddie gulps. "I'm... I’M INSIDE OF YOU!”

There’s a pause.

“I don't like how I worded that,” he admits.

"Yeah, neither do I..." Steve agrees. Suddenly he squints. "Is that a zit on my forehead?"

He reaches to swat it but Eddie swats him away. Through Steve's gritted teeth, Eddie hisses,

"THAT'S what you're worried about right now? What in the sane hell is happening?!"

“This isn’t the first weird dream I’ve had after taking an edible,” Steve remarks.

“Harrington, this ISN’T a dream. Okay? This is real life.”

“Yeah, okay Munson,” Steve scoffs, finally hoisting himself off of the couch to pace around. “I know a dream when I’m in one. I just gotta… pinch myself or slap myself around and I’ll be awake.”

But Eddie wastes no time.

“OW!” Steve yelps. “You just pinched my nipple!”

“You mean my nipple?”

He does it again.

“OW! Quit it dude, that’s harassment.”

The two make their way over to a mirror in the living room. To test out the impossible, Steve raises his right hand. The mirror shows Eddie doing it. Eddie begins to touch his face. The mirror responds with Steve doing it. 

It’s the confirmation they were too in denial to come to terms with. They somehow switched bodies.

“Oh god, I’m…” Steve stammers. “Wow…”

“Oh…GOD!” Eddie shrieks. He inches closer to the mirror. “I’m like an off-brand George Michael!”

“HURTFUL—”

“Harrington!” Eddie exclaims, turning back around to face himself. “What was the last thing you remember from last night?”

“Uhh,” Steve stammers. “A-all I remember was us arguing during dinner time and going separate ways after. And then there was a big earthquake that everyone insists that they didn’t feel. And then…we all went to bed, and I forgot to get you a pillow.”

“It’s okay, I’m over it,” Eddie pants. “Way bigger issues than a pillow right now.”

“And now we’re here.”

The two frantically pace around the living room. How can something like this possibly happen?

"Okay,” Eddie exhales. “Yesterday we were here with everybody. All of us were seemingly having a good time until we got pretty into it. Then the earthquake happened, we went to bed, and woke up sober… but in different bodies. Is this like…a rare phenomenon…some kind of medical emergency?”

“I don’t know, dude,” Steve shrugs. “This has never happened to me before. There has to be a scientific explanation for this."

Suddenly their two brain cells click.

"Henderson," they utter in unison.

“It was probably Dustin’s Empathy science experiment,” Steve infers. “Although I'm not sure how a fortune cookie would take walking-in-another-person's-shoes so damn LITERAL."

"God, we’re cooked!” Eddie groans. “And we can’t tell anyone but our friends about it or else we’re REALLY gonna end up as test subjects!”

Eddie starts biting his new nails and frantically pacing back and forth. Meanwhile, Steve centers in on his breathing before emotionally responding to the situation in front of him.

“Okay…” Steve exhales. “Let me just gather my thoughts… You’re in my body and I’m in your body.”

“...Right,” Eddie nods, annoyed since they’d already established that. “Does it seem less scary now that you’ve said it out loud?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head.

“Alright, cool,” Eddie shrugs. “Just checking.”

They look at each other, absolutely petrified of the reality that has now sunk in. And before they seek any other forms of help, there was one more final thought the two needed to share alone… one O.O.M.F. (Other Older Male Friend) to another, in the comfort of Steve’s living room.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

[cue panicked guitar rift here 🎸⚡️]

“This is so not cool, man, this is SO not cool!”

Argyle, Jonathan, and Robin are the first ones at the scene. Along with Dustin, of course, who is now evidently spiraling. 

“I need some air,” Dustin sighs. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god.”

The scientist darts outside for a very reasonable and private mental breakdown. Meanwhile in his absence, everyone else attempts to get their Thinking Caps on.

“I mean…” Argyle pants. “It’s one thing to have a funky acid trip, it’s another to have an out-of-body experience…but this is…this is…”

“Freaky,” Jonathan finishes for him.

“It’s FREAKY!” Argyle agrees. “And it’s not like we can go to the cops, I mean, they'd never open their minds to something like this. They'd just ship us to the Kerley County KOOK HOUSE.”

“Or worse,” Eddie gulps. “The Lab.”

The room is drowned with frantic rambling once again as all the young adults talk over each other.

Will this be the new normal? A head-banging Steve and a preppy Eddie? It sounds like pure nightmare fuel. A disaster waiting to happen. And Dustin only programmed his fortune cookies for this… unintentionally. He didn’t program a way to undo it. 

Everyone is running out of ideas. That is until…

“Wait!” Robin exclaims. “What if you guys just…combined?”

The idea is met with retaliation.

“I beg your finest pardon?” “WE WHAT?!”

“Wait!” Eddie exclaims. “No, no, yeah! I get it. What if we… what if we just… RAN… into each other and the force will be great enough to switch us back?”

“Right! Right!” Steve frantically agrees. “Right, the greater the force, the greater the impact, and we’ll be back in our bodies in no time.”

Steve and Eddie are on opposite sides of the room before anyone else can register it. Kicking his foot around like a bull, Eddie warms himself up while Harrington takes deep breaths, grounding himself before the ordeal.

“Are they really about to…” Argyle begins.

“Sh.. sh..” Jonathan stops him.

“I really wanna see how this goes,” Robin adds.

“Okay,” Eddie huffs before he lets out a battle cry. “EN GUARDE!”

“OH GOD!” Steve shrieks.

“AHHHHHH!” 

“AHHHHHH!”

SMACK! PLOP!

Luckily the floor breaks their fall. The commotion grabs the attention of Dustin, who had just finished his meltdown. But at the sight of seeing his two friends attempt to combine, he could feel himself being launched into yet another one. 

“Okay,” Dustin sighs as he walks back in. “What the hell?!”

———

“Language, Dusty!”

The next brainiac to consult on the list is Suzie, Dustin’s girlfriend. Spawning from the Mormon Capital of the world (Salt Lake City, Utah), Little Miss Beauty and Brains is known to have a solution for just about anything. Until now, it seems.

 “I’m sorry for the language, Suzie. I’m just freaking out,” Dustin blubbers. “It’s not every day my best friends switch bodies and I have no idea how to change them back.”

“So let me get this straight…” Suzie sighs. “Steve is inside of Eddie, and Eddie is inside of Steve.”

“Okay, can we please stop wording it like that?!” Eddie pleads.

“Sorry, Steve.”

“I’M EDDIE!”

“Jiminy Cricket, this is so confusing.”

And what a sight for confused eyes it also is.  But as painful as it is to admit, it’s interesting watching “Steve Harrington” stomp at the ground muttering “Jesus H. Christ!” while “Eddie Munson” nitpicks everything about his hair in the mirror.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” Suzie suggests. “How did this start? What did you use for your ingredients, Dusty Bun?”

“Passionfruit and cohosh,” Dustin answers firmly. “Well-known, NATURAL stimulants of oxytocin.”

“And you said they ate the cookies containing these ingredients?”

“Yes, and they got the same fortune which I programmed for them to feel empathy for each other when it happens. Their bodies should’ve released an immense amount of oxytocin. Instead, they uh well, they switched bodies.”

“Dusty Bun… there is no such thing as an oral oxytocin!”

“Why not?” Steve questions.

“Because it would just get destroyed in the GI tract,” Suzie explains. “Meaning there wouldn’t be any ‘stimulants’ to absorb into the bloodstream.”

“Meaning oxytocin would’ve never been released in the first place,” Eddie’s breath hitches.

“It’s also notorious for being unable to cross the blood-brain barrier,” Suzie adds. “Something always happens before it’s able to. This may as well be that something.”

“But… if it gets destroyed in the stomach…” Dustin wonders. “Then how the hell did Steve and Eddie still end up switching bodies?”

Suzie shoots Dustin a dirty look.

“How the heck…” he corrects himself.

Suzie softens up immediately. “I don’t know. Our Heavenly Father works in mysterious ways. This may have happened for a reason. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I’m sure it serves a Divine purpose.”

“Well, can it SERVE a little faster?” Eddie grumbles. “I’ve got a Show and Tell to practice for and Harrington’s got children to babysit. We obviously can’t do that for each other. People are going to think we’ve gone crazy.”

Suddenly a light bulb goes off in his head.

“Wait. Henderson! Give us a couple more cookies. Maybe if we get the same fortune again, we’ll switch back!”

“NO! No more cookies!” Steve butts in. “Who’s to say you won’t end up inside another person whose body you didn’t wanna be in?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Okay…” Dustin stops him, disgusted at the fact. “Enough.”

“Dustin is right,” Suzie nods. “Enough arguing for now, and no more fortune cookies with matching fortunes until we can find out what’s wrong!”

The boys watch as Suzie walks back towards her desk and returns with some papers and pencils.

“Here. My homework for you two is to write down every little detail there is to know about each other. This includes your day-to-day, your hobbies, and even habits. No one can know what is really going on behind the scenes.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, wait,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t like what you’re implying. We don’t have to… live life as each other… do we?!”

“In the meantime, yes. You do.” Suzie confirms. “And it will be uncomfortable, I’m not going to lie. But what else can we do?”

“Uh, go through all of Dustin’s fortune cookies until we find a pair so Steve and I can ingest THOSE!” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, and there goes BOTH my Show and Tell items!” Dustin hollers.

“Dusty, don’t worry,” Suzie speaks again. “You will get to showcase your friends and fortune cookies at Show and Tell. I’ll be doing my own research to ensure that this happens. This includes talking to some monks, priests, and rabbis. We WILL get to the bottom of this.”

The three leave Suzie’s cabin feeling absolutely defeated. 

Of course this would happen the summer Steve finally got his hair under control. And of course this would happen the moment Eddie has a potential record deal at the palm of his hands. Any other circumstance would have been okay, despite the freakiness factor. This was just shit timing if they ever did see it.

And if Suzie can’t fix it, they’re screwed.

When they get far enough away from the girls' cabins, Steve excuses himself to the nearest water fountain. In contrast, Eddie shows himself to the closest Porta-Potty, the safest place for him to have a conversation he wouldn’t be caught dead having.

“Hey God,” Eddie grumbles. “Me again.”

———

Adapting to each other’s lives certainly wasn’t easy.

It started with switching cars.

Steve’s BMW has sensitive brakes. Eddie’s beloved van, Halen, on the other hand requires more force, more aggression, something Eddie believed Steve would bust his toe doing.

And Eddie can only hope that when Steve is running around town as him, he doesn’t embarrass him all too much. He’s already not off to a good start, with a stupid Thundercats t-shirt on and his hair up in a bun.

“And when you’re outside with the kiddos, make sure they wear sunscreen,” Steve advises him. “You're a camp counselor, after all.”

“Got it.”

“And that an epipen is with you at all times,” Steve adds. “Some of the kids have bee and nut allergies and those reactions can be lethal.”

Make sure this. Make sure that. It’s odd for Eddie to be hearing it all in his own voice. Has Steve always been this annoying?

Eventually Eddie gets tired of it and consults his Walkman, blasting “Take Me Away” through his headphones to drown out Steve’s rambling. Rambling on and on and on and on… on and on and on and on….

“Eddie!” Steve shouts. “Are you listening?”

“Don’t wanna grow up I wanna get out,” Eddie sings. “HEY! Take me away.”

Eddie was listening. In fact he listens and pays attention more than Steve knows. He just doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“I’m gonna get you a real job,” Steve says to Eddie.

“A real job?” Eddie tuts. “My job is real. I sell real drugs and bring in real money to help my Uncle afford our really real rent.”

“But I’m not gonna be the one doing it.”

“Sure you are. You’re me.”

“Munson, no!”

“Harrington, yes.”

“I’M NOT SELLING KETAMINE TO MINORS, EDDIE.”

“Aw. But you fit the stereotype,” Eddie smirks, rather cheekily. “Now chop chop, Rick’s expecting royalties on said sales.”

“Maybe I can land you a hospitality job. Or maybe a front desk job. Something that comes with benefits. Something practical.”

“A Munson with a normal job in Hawkins?” Eddie can’t believe his ears. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Perhaps there is a silver lining in all of this. 

For the average Hawkins resident, getting a job is no issue. It was never a choice for Eddie. Given his father’s less-than-cookie-cutter reputation – and Eddie being an involuntary extension of him – he couldn’t believe Steve couldn’t grasp that getting a conventional job is hard. And Eddie always thought Harrington needed some humbling. This is the perfect scenario for it.

“Take your feet off your dash,” Steve grumbles. “Steve Harrington doesn’t do that.”

“AyAy, Captain.”

“And stop head-banging in my body, will ya?” Steve begs. “You’ll break a sweat and un-pomade my hair.”

“God, you’re so anal about everything, Steve!” Eddie scoffs. “I feel sorry for those kids, I really do.”

If Eddie’s going to be walking around in Steve’s body, he at least wanted to relax first. But even that was impossible, given that Steve is a talker and alleged goodie-two-shoes-who-discovered-empathy-on-drugs-and-that’s-all-he-preaches-now (with the rules of a mother whose son was allergic to everything but water).

The car ride is more tense and quiet as the two approach Knowhere. Eddie is quick to scurry out when Steve approaches the drop-off curb, a little speech already prepared from the first nerve Harrington managed to get on in the morning.

“Loosen up that manbun,” Eddie commands once he’s out of the car. “You look like the Buddha went thrifting in Chicago. You also need to unclench your asscheeks a bit more if you wanna be me. And to put more fiber in your diet. How’s that for advice?”

SLAM! goes the door. Steve normally would’ve been pissed, but since he’s driving Halen, he’s lenient about it. So he watches Eddie walk away, in a stride that looks like he's constantly got a wedgie, over to the camp and towards the kids he is to watch until Show and Tell Day.

“WEAR SUNSCREEN!” Steve hisses, one last time. “…I don’t play about my skin.”

———

“Hey, Steve!” a group of campers greet Eddie as he makes his way into Knowhere.

God, this is so weird.

“Hey…kiddos?” Eddie greets them in return.

“We’re gonna go diving in the lake, just letting you know.”

“Thanks for the invite,” Eddie tuts. “Sounds like a lot of fun. Just uh, wear sunscreen.”

“Well, we try to invite you but you never wanna come with us.”

“Says who?” Eddie demands. “It’s summer, everyone goes to the lake.”

“Everyone but you,” a kid points out. “You turn us down every time.”

“I do?”

“All the time,” another kid confirms. “You say it ruins your hair.”

"I was...joking," is all Eddie can come up with.

"Really? Because it doesn't sound like you were," another child counters. "You already don't like that the UV rays have the potential to damage your hair cuticles, which aids in your fear of dryness and breakage. Furthermore, swimming in a lake filled with miscellaneous, unidentified bacterium is another concern, apart from the warm water having the potential to dry your hair out even more. Also, at windy temperatures of about 80 degrees, typical for a Hawkins summer, your hair when damp will start to frizz. Which is where your pomade and Farrah Fawcett spray come in handy. And on summer days, you give your hair 32 hours before the next hair wash rotation, to which the cycle starts again. We know the drill, Steve. You've explained it multiple times. And we get it now that you don’t like the lake."

Even the kids think Harrington's insufferable. Eddie can only shake his head in disbelief.

"I'm not who I was a day ago," Eddie shrugs. "...literally."

"Huh?"

"You gonna let me join or what?"

Suddenly, the kids’ eyes begin to light up. Steve Harrington joining them at the lake? It was going to be the most fun day they’ve ever had!

"Sure!" the kids cheer excitedly. "Al-right! Steve is joining our party!"

Eddie smiles to himself, proud of the reaction he got from the eager children. Excited cheers? Smiling faces? Now THAT is how you Camp Counsel.

And now that Eddie thinks about it, he realizes something. He’s spent most of his youth in survival mode that he never got to let loose and have fun. And while he has Steve’s body and physical activity levels, he is certainly NOT about to let that go to waste. Pomade? Eddie thinks to himself. Meet Trash Can.

“Hey guys! Wait for me!” Eddie calls after the campers. “CANNONBALL!"

Meanwhile Steve sets off to find Eddie a job.

A real job.

He tries Hawkins Mart. The roller rink. The movie theater. The coffee shops. Something that involved social interaction and hard work. 

"Hi there," Steve grins politely. "I'm Eddie Munson, and I'd like to apply for a job."

But Hawkins is anything but receptive to it.

"No."

"Nope."

"Sorry."

"Munson, eh? You related to Al Munson?"

"NO!"

Apparently misdemeanors and run-ins with the law make it impossible to land a good gig. It was no wonder now why Eddie stayed where he was comfortable.

Though, it's unconventional.

Steve is just about to lose hope when those looking for help didn't even want him.

But he wasn’t giving up. There has to be something Steve can do to increase Eddie's chances of landing a good job.

Just then, he realizes. 

Maybe it’s not Eddie’s past, but his demeanor. The way he carries himself. If he didn’t dress like a vessel for Satan every single day, this conservative town would probably take him more seriously.

It's one of life's twisted games. Steve didn’t make the rules. And he sure as hell can't change it. 

But there is one thing he can help Eddie do. He can help Eddie play the game. Master it.

And that’s when Steve sees the scissors.

———

So you can say sunscreen is the least of everyone’s worries.

“Jesus Chr— what did you do to my hair?!”

“What did you do to MINE?!”

“I had to let her breathe man,” Eddie explains. “God, Harrington. No wonder you’re always in a mood. Holding your hair up with so much gel, MY HEAD FELT HEAVIER THAN A BOWLING BALL.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve challenges him. “Well your hair was so greasy, I could’ve pat it down with a paper towel like it’s PIZZA.”

The two are at it again, reaching at each other’s hair and then swatting each other away like flies. Suddenly Robin butts into the quarrel, emerging from the kitchen with amusement spread all across her face. 

“Oh…my…god…” she says.

Steve and Eddie simultaneously stop their bickering and pan their gazes over to her. Unable to contain her laughter, Robin releases a hearty chuckle in front of them.

“Holy shit, this is the greatest thing since disposable cameras,” Robin tsks. “On that note, let me go get mine.”

“NO!” both Steve and Eddie refuse.

“This is so humiliating!” Steve whines. “I look like someone literally mopped the floor with me!” 

“You're embarrassed?!” Eddie exclaims as he points to his own, original body. “Whose Peepaw died?! Why am I wearing a grandpa sweater sourced from the crusty back bins of Goodwill?!”

"I thought it'd be fitting attire for your library job that I got you."

"You got me a job at the LIBRARY?!” Eddie shrieks. “Out of all places?"

"No other place would hire you!"

"Can’t say I didn’t warn ya."

“And why does my hair LOOK LIKE THAT?!” Steve demands. “You went into the lake with the kids, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

Eddie shakes his head at him, baffled. “God forbid, I – the camp counselor — do camp counselor things! I did exactly what you told me to do.”

“WHERE DID I SAY YOU COULD MESS UP MY HAIR?”

Steve takes a moment to mourn his glorious mane. Meanwhile, Eddie starts brainstorming how he’s going to rob a high end salon for all their hair growth serums. 

Just then, Robin reemerges from the shadows with her camera, panning it directly at the two of them, as if she were some eager journalist fighting for her spot on the front page of National Geographic.

“Say cheese, freaks!”

———

Eddie was having a hard time being Steve.

Being Hawkins’ most desirable male apart from Billy Hargrove was harder than he thought. Because while women worshiped the ground Steve walked on, it was hard for flight-risk teens to take the Pretty Boy seriously.

“Christopher!” Eddie hisses. “I told you to stop domesticating the raccoons, you little shit.”

Living in the trailer park, Eddie’s no stranger to those feral, yet adorable, beady-eyed beauties. And while they were cute, holding your hand, refurbishing your trash, and performing for crackers, there was an unspoken agreement when it came to those kinds of animals: you are to never take them in.

“But it’s for research!” Christopher pleads.

“I wouldn’t care if it was for the Nobel Peace Prize,” Eddie scolds him. He places his angry hands frustratedly on his hips. “Those things can be rabid, violent, and aggressive when you least expect it. Trust me on this. Raccoons are better left alone in the wild. They can’t live with people like us.”

A low, miserable groan furls at the base of the boy’s belly. He kicks at the dirt beneath him.

“Ugh, you ruin all the fun, Steve,” Christopher whines. “Eddie Munson would never treat us like this.”

That statement just about nipped Eddie in the soul. Was this what being a buzzkill is like? Little did Christopher know that it’s actually Eddie scolding him. And that the kids were not only hurting Steve’s feelings but his as well. 

Meanwhile Steve wasn’t having a grand time being Eddie either.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BOY?!”

He almost died. Quite literally. And if it hadn’t been for Wayne launching himself across the room to stop it from happening, the odds of he and Eddie ever switching back would’ve gone from unlikely to zero.

“What?!” Steve demands.

“What do you mean, what?!” Wayne demands. “You eat that thing you’re going to wound up in the hospital! Again!”

Steve’s eyes trail down to the delicious shrimp tacos he had bought for takeout from Estrella’s. 

Eddie is deathly allergic to shellfish. And with just a single bite of that shrimp taco, he would be in the back of an ambulance with hives and a closed-up throat. And judging by the fact that Eddie and his uncle didn’t necessarily bring home the ‘big bucks’, an invoice from Hawkins Memorial Hospital wouldn’t be an ideal situation to put him through.

“We’re already two months behind on rent,” Wayne grumbles. “You eat those tacos, kick the bucket, and rack up them bills, I may as well join ya six feet under.”

No tacos, no time and a half at work, and no solution to the problem at hand. No wonder Eddie was always an angsty mess. It definitely showcases in those lyrics too.

———

“Take me away, away, away, AWAY”

A killer guitar solo rips through the Harrington garage as Eddie strums away at the chords. 

In hindsight, it looks like Steve is the rockstar. But the feral energy is unmistakably Munson’s, to which Dustin can’t help but get lost in, dancing along as a one-man-mosh-pit to the brilliance of Corroded Coffin’s discography.

“Same old stuff, it never ends.”

“The song sounds so cool hearing it in Steve’s voice,” Dustin beams. “And I can’t believe you put him in a crop top.”

“It’s like dressing up a Barbie doll,” Eddie jokes as he puts his guitar away. He then turns his torso towards Henderson’s field of view. “Look… Harrington’s an innie.”

Dustin cackles at the sight.

“Hahaha, no way!” he cheers. “I’m an outie.”

“Me too.”

The garage lets out an insulated hum as Steve strides in with the tacos. He cocks an eyebrow, confused at the sight of Dustin and Corroded Coffin comparing navels with each other. 

“What did I just walk into?”

Eddie’s eyes light up at the sight of Steve.

“Ooh, is that Estrella’s I smell?” he inquires.

“All yours,” Steve grumbles. “Found out today that I can’t have shellfish.”

Eddie smirks at the realization.

“But I can,” he sings. “Because I’m Steve Harrington.”

Eddie rushes over to Steve to acquire the food. Steve goes over to greet the rest of the boys and to issue Dustin a long-awaited high five.

“Mmm…” Eddie coos. “Take a good look at these washboard abs, Innie. They’ll be gone for as long as I can have these tacos.”

Steve makes a face. “I can’t believe you put me in a crop top.”

“I can’t believe you cut my hair,” Eddie shrugs.

But he seems to have gotten over the fact. Hair will grow back. There were larger issues at hand today. Like how exactly Eddie is going to perform with Corroded Coffin at Show and Tell.

“Listen,” Eddie wipes his mouth. “Harrington. I have a favor. If worse comes to worst and we can’t switch back on time, I need you to perform as me for Show and Tell.”

“And why exactly would I do that?”

“Because it’s our one shot to make it big.”

“Again, why would I do that?”

“Because you love me,” Eddie sneers.

But his face drops when Steve doesn’t return the energy. 

Nowhere in the fine print did it say ‘Steve Owes Eddie’. So why would Steve bother? It’s a lot for Eddie to ask of someone he’s openly mocked for years. But now that he needs something, suddenly Steve is the coolest person in the world? It doesn’t work like that. 

“Hey…” Eddie begins. “I know you don’t like me, okay? Whatever animosity you have towards me, I hope we can move on from it one day.” 

Steve refuses to meet Eddie’s eyes.

“If you do this for me, I’ll be eternally grateful,” Munson adds. “And maybe just maybe — when Corroded Coffin makes it big and we start touring around the world — I’ll be out of your hair forever. Literally.”

“Seems transactional.” 

It leaves a bad taste in Eddie’s mouth. It was always ‘Terms and Conditions’ with Harrington. Never has he ever considered the other person’s feelings. Never has he ever done anything out of the goodness of his heart. It was always, “What do I get out of it?”. Always some sort of fucked up business move. Just like his father.

“You view everything as a transaction, don’t you?” Eddie scoffs. 

“Why would I do favors for someone who’s done nothing but disrespect me? I value my time and energy. I’m not wasting it on you.” 

“But you can waste it on being a camp counselor, right? The kids aren’t so hot about you anyways, so I don’t know why you keep showing up.”

“Because Dustin is there. Because I’m a good friend. You wouldn’t know sacrifice and loyalty if it hit you in the face.”

“Ah, there it is. The performative activism in plain sight. We all know that this is about Dustin. AAAAlways been that way.”

“Of course my summer is about Dustin,” Steve argues. “You’ve had him all year. Spending every second with him and breathing down his neck.”

“I’M the one spending too much time with him?” Eddie scoffs. “Breathing down his neck?! You’re the one who got a gig to be closer to him.”

“Does it register with you that it’s because I DON’T SEE HIM MUCH AT ALL ANYMORE?” Steve shouts. “He’s always at your stupid D&D games and never wants to hang out with me! You’re taking the spotlight, like you always seem to do!”

“That’s IT!” Dustin barks. “I have HAD it with you two fighting all the time.”

Finally, it’s quiet. And normally the two would be stoked about it, but seeing Dustin on the brink of tears does not make the last word worthwhile at all.

“Not even a life-changing catastrophe will make you guys stop! You’re in each other’s bodies for Christ’s sake and still going at it like cats and dogs.”

Dustin starts back towards the house, kicking at the chords beneath his feet that are blocking his dramatic exit. All Dustin has ever wanted from those two – and quite literally every adult in his life – was co-existence. A notion so easy, yet no one has ever been able to give him that. Not even with his damn empathy cookies.

“It all makes me feel like a failure. Locking myself in my cabin for six weeks to have my fortune cookies yield THESE results? My last year at camp too.”

“Dustin–”

“And if you guys keep this up, then I don’t wanna spend the rest of my summer with either of you. How’s that for compromise?”

“Hey. Buddy…” Steve starts again.

“Henderson!” Eddie calls at the same time.

But it’s already too late. Off Dustin goes, Camp Nowhere notebook in his arms, walkie in his pocket, and car keys jingling furiously around his fingers. Nothing worth displaying at Show and Tell if the grown ups were going to act younger than the campers there. And if Dustin’s anger wasn’t already prominent, the way he backs out of Steve’s driveway is a dead giveaway, judging by the screeching tires and the pop of the engine as he steps on the gas.

“Damn,” Jeff comments. “Taco ‘bout a tough crowd…”

Ba-dum-tss! the drum sounds.

“GARETH!” Steve and Eddie growl.

"Scott Clarke."

Hearing that name nearly gives Eddie whiplash. Especially because it came out of Steve’s mouth.

"Huh?"

Steve repeats himself. "Scott Clarke? Our middle school science teacher?”

Steve is perched at the bottom of the stairs, wading aimlessly around in guilt. Eddie watches as he props himself against the rails of his fancy staircase, almost as if to serenade him with an apology song of sorts. 

"When we were kids, he headed the Hawkins Middle AV Club,” Steve recalls. “Nancy was in it, and so was Mike and so was Sinclair, Baby Byers, and Dustin.”

“Go on…”

“Well…whenever they ran into trouble, Mr. Clarke was always there to help,” Harrington shrugs. “Always been very personable, non-judgmental, and most of all, he’s knowledgeable.”

“Okay…”

 “And with his degree from MIT, he’d be the one most likely able to get us out of this mess,” Steve emphasizes. “Just in time for Show and Tell.”

“What makes you think he’d want to help former students like us?” Eddie demands. “We weren’t in the AV club or anything.”

“Because he cares, Eddie. Current students or not.”

There’s a pause.

“Remember that one time you came into homeroom with a black eye?” Steve reflects. “And Clarke made you stay after class so he could ask if everything was okay at home?”

Attempting to mask the mushy feelings underneath, Eddie simply shrugs. Steve persists.

“Other teachers would have assumed you got in a fight or something. Even if that was the case, none of them cared to look further into it. No one except Mr. Clarke.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie admits, choked up now. “Yeah, I almost forgot about that.”

It actually was a fight that happened that day. Some random kid at school. But there were also times Eddie has gotten in scuffles with his father, typically when Al Munson stumbled home too drunk for his own good and tried laying a hand on either him or Uncle Wayne. And Mr. Clarke, having grown up with Al, knew what he was capable of. Meaning it was his unspoken civil duty to look out for (Munson) Junior.

“And,” Harrington sighs. “I’m kinda really desperate here. I want you to be able to perform at Dustin’s Show and Tell. You and the band have a shot at this. I wholeheartedly believe that. And I don’t have much faith in my ability to perform as you. Neither does Dustin, it seems.”

“Steve…” Eddie begins. 

“And sure, I was upset about not being Henderson’s first choice for a while,” Steve rambles. “But I’ll be okay. The kids can learn survival skills another time. ”

Grateful tears start to form in Eddie’s eyes. He’s never seen this side of Steve before. 

“My hopes and dreams don’t depend on Show and Tell,” Steve mumbles. “And if it means a producer from Cardinal Records is going to be there, then getting Wayne and yourself out of debt does.”

Their eyes meet again.

“I can’t take that away from you.”

Suddenly the rocker feels his knees buckle.

It feels as if Eddie’s soul is about to leave his body. Or Steve’s in this sense. Struggling to keep his composure, the ever-so-rugged Eddie Munson clears his throat.

“…I didn’t think you paid attention to any of that, Steve.”

“I pay attention more than you think,” Steve counters. “And if my observations are right, Mr. Clarke might have the answer.”

Steve shrugs, dangling the keys to Eddie’s van around his fingers. He hula hoops them around as Eddie remains floored, pondering above him.

“Well?” says Steve. “You just gonna stand there and gawk, ‘Harrington’? Come on.”

Perhaps walking and gawking would be more productive. Without further hesitation, Eddie races down the steps and follows closely behind Steve before shutting the door to the house.

“Wipe your feet,” Steve commands as he unlocks the doors to Halen.

“What do you mean wipe my feet?” Eddie snaps. “It’s MY van!”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who’s been driving it,” Steve counters with a glare. “And I’m saying wipe your feet.”

Nonetheless, Eddie sighs and does as he’s told. But he’s not happy about it. 

Never in a million years did he think Steve Harrington would tell him how to run his own van. Nor did he think Harrington would actually end up being a good dude. Both were very humbling experiences. And while King Steve drives them off to Hawkins Middle, willingly blasting Metallica and doing his best to head-bang, Eddie crosses his arms and stares blankly out the passenger side window.

“I’m never eating anything Dustin makes me again.”

———

"So..." Eddie prompts. "Can you fix us?"’

“If it isn’t broken, then do not fix it,” Mr. Clarke advises. 

There was only so much that could be disclosed to their former teacher. Being an educator also meant being a mandated reporter, and it’s without a doubt government officials would bust down the doors of Camp Knowhere and run a freak raid on Dustin’s science experiment had they known the truth. Steve and Eddie had to gloss over practically everything.

“I appreciate and am honored to know you two trust me with your dilemma,” Mr. Clarke nods. “That being said, it is normal for gentlemen your age to go through an identity crisis after experimenting with recreational drugs. It will subside, but only if you don’t fight it.”

A decade can certainly change things. Steve and Eddie never expected their most logic-driven teacher to embrace his heart, dressed in a brown linen robe, as he calmly kept them on standby with soothing, meditative “Ommm”s while they spiraled into desperation in his ‘BACK TO (S)C(H)OOL’ classroom.

“But what is the science behind this?” Steve demands. “Is something happening in the…the… what did Suzie call it? The blood-brain barrier? Why would… Harrington and I both feel like we are living the life of the other person?”

“To question everything is to not know peace,” Mr. Clarke soothes them.

He’s saying this while criss-cross-apple-sauce on his desk, by the way.

“Sometimes, it is best to simply let things be,” the educator warns. “By going against the grain of the water, you are blocking the potential you can reach if you had been in a flow state.”

“Good God, you choose NOW to go on a spiritual retreat?!” Eddie hisses. “When we need science and your genius mind the most?!”

“If not now, then when?” Mr. Clarke mumbles. “If not you, then who?”

For the first time in his life, Eddie feels plagued with academic regret. He wishes he paid attention in Clarke’s class. Meanwhile Steve is considering having a word with his superintendent mother, because no way in hell is some barefoot, most-likely-vegan lunatic about to indoctrinate the future kids of America. 

“If not you… then who?” Clarke repeats. “If there's one thing I learned during my time in research… and mindful meditation…  it's that sometimes the answer is right in front of you. Or within."

Steve and Eddie look at each other.

"The world is full of obvious things," Mr. Clarke says. "...which nobody, by any chance, ever observes. Sherlock Holmes."

Accepting the absolute bust, Steve and Eddie storm out of the door and back down the stairs of their prepubescent alma mater. 

“Son of a bitch,” Eddie curses under his breath. “The damn hippies got to him before we did.”

As the two walk down the stairs, Steve sneaks a few quick glances Eddie’s way. Seeing him upset didn’t necessarily make him feel so hot. The answer is clear: they need to venture beyond a Mormon child and a middle school science teacher. They need to consult the big dogs. 

“We can go to the Indianapolis Science Center,” Steve suggests. “And maybe ask some people there. There’s also the university. If we flag down a professor from the physics or chemistry department, maybe they can offer us some insight. Or…”

“Just give it a rest, Steve,” Eddie surrenders.

“What?” Steve questions. “No! We’ve got to figure this out before Show and Tell. It’s in a couple days.”

“What’s a couple days?” Eddie demands. “We’ve been like this for nearly a week. What makes you think it won’t last another week? Or indefinitely.”

Eddie kicks at an empty carton of orange juice at his feet while Steve watches with an overwhelming sense of guilt. He didn’t want Eddie to give up. Not yet, at least.

“Hey I’m not going to let you blow this shot, Munson,” Steve demands firmly. “I know how much this means to you. This could finally be your ticket out of Hawkins. You guys were meant for the Big City.”

“No,” Eddie disagrees, absentmindedly. 

Eddie’s gaze veers off to the side, a sadness in his eyes so profound that Steve almost starts tearing up as well. 

“All… the answers… point…to no,” Eddie continues. “Can you imagine what the world would be like if everyone followed their dreams? We’d have no one doing the conventional jobs. It's not in my cards, I fear. Maybe I was always meant to stay in Hawkins, being everyone’s weed man and no one’s first choice.”

“Eddie…”

“But thanks for trying though, Harrington. Doesn’t go unnoticed.”

———

To be continued…

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[webslingingslasher]

let 🥡 smash ethan keznek 2023

— 🥡

that moment when you hook peter's best friend up w someone -tbh this could be an intro to more ethan works. this was me testing the waters.

peter told you not to get involved; too bad you don’t need permission.

however, you didn’t want to get scolded before necessary, so, you creeped out of peter's bed one early morning, gently removing his arm from your waist, sending him to roll over on his stomach with a harsh snore.

walking on tip toes before slowly opening his bedroom door, closing it by turning the doorknob all the way for a silent latch. keeping the same stealth for ethan’s door.

he's still sleeping and doesn't falter for even a second after you click the door shut.

his room was much brighter than peter’s. you had no idea how he could sleep in it. for the third year, he’s refused to get curtains. “why would i waste my money? think about it, when you go to bed it’s dark, so what’s it matter?”

ethan’s nuzzled into a pillow, his mouth open as he breathes harshly. you look behind you, paranoid peter's followed you into the room, about to catch you with your hand in the cookie jar, but you’re shut in alone.

poking at his shoulder his body slumps more to the side, you poke again. he stops breathing for a second, then takes a large inhale, smacking his lips and raising the sheets up to his chin.

“pst.... ethan,” you poke several times.

“ethan!” a whisper means nothing, you shake his arm hard. it sends him flying up, nearly smacking your forehead with his, his eyes not caught up to who woke him, about to shout, you cover his mouth with your hand.

“we have to be quiet, peter can’t know.”

he's awake in a second, alarm bells ringing in his head.

his body flies backwards, his back hitting the wall his bed’s against. you wince at the collison, his voice pitched.

“no. no way, man. i’m not doing that to him. parker’s all about you, i can’t do that.”

you sit on the edge of his bed and crawl until your knees are brushing against his shins.

“shhh! don't worry about it, he doesn't have to find out, you know? we can keep it between us. just be quiet, okay?"

ethan's shaking his head in a fury, "no, i can't. we can't. this isn't you, if you leave now i'll... i'll keep it between us."

"c'mon it's not the first time i've kept a secret from peter."

his voice tilted, "you've done this before?"

"well... i try not to make it a habit or anything. but, he doesn't need to know everything does he?"

ethan looks away from you, his figure deflated. "ah, trouble. that's... that's not cool. he really, really loves you. like, more than he's loved anyone. this is gonna break his heart."

you furrow your eyebrows and reach out to pat his arm, he rips it away from you. "ethan, it's not that serious. he'll be annoyed but he's not gonna hate me."

"no, this is gonna fucking ruin him. you don't understand what he's done to become the person you deserve. or, i guess now it's the person he thought he deserved."

you want to throw a tantrum, "why are you being so mean? you're not mean to me, ever. that's why i like you."

ethan sits up, "mean? i'm being mean? you're the one trying to fuck your boyfriends best friend and i'm the one being targeted?"

it takes a second, but your eyes go wide and you gasp.

"oh no! no, no. that's not what's happening right now, ethan. i see-" you clear your throat and look away from him for a second, slightly embarrassed. "i see how you could think that, i was being a little cryptic."

"uh huh."

you feel offended, "woah, okay, don't act like i'm switching stories because you rejected me. cause that's not what's happening."

ethan narrows his eyes, "uh. huh."

"don't think so low of me, that hurts! i was trying to- alright fine, hold on, let me start over."

you shake your shoulders out and take a deep breath, "technically, you're like... half right. i am trying to get you laid, but like... not.. with me?"

he’s weary, “uh huh. and parker can’t know?”

you shake your head, “okay, see, the funny this is, i told him to tell you and he said no, so i said i’d tell you, and he told me not to get involved. but, i mean, i have a good feeling about this!”

it goes quiet for a moment, you can almost hear him thinking about your words. scratching at his head, hair sticking straight up. ethan rubs his nose before shaking his head with the new information.

“okay, hold on,” he hold his hand up, “you want me get me laid, but not with you, and also, parker can’t know you want to get me laid, but not with you?”

you nod, “yes, exactly.”

ethan hasn’t bought a word of your shit. too many excuses. he takes a deep inhale, then explodes, “parker! park-“ you dive bomb into him, laying halfway across him while you slap your hand over his mouth. he gives you wide eyes, holding his hands up, scared to touch you.

if peter were to catch him with you on him like this, especially if he's touching you, he'd be a dead man.

you're thrown over his lap, he's only in boxers and you're only in his best friends shirt, and he doesn't have a good feeling about you having super short pants underneath it.

you didn't even hear the door open, just breathing harshly down at his friend. you hiss at him, “shut up!” ethan looks petrified, “i told you, peter can’t know!”

your shirt is tugged from behind, it goes tight on your throat. a third voice is in the room. “off.” it’s stern, but not upset. it makes you turn politely, batting your eyelashes at your boyfriend innocently.

“it’s not what it looks like,” because given the position, you’re half straddling ethan while he’s ninety eight percent naked. peter nods, “i know it’s not. it’s worse, you got involved.”

deny, deny, deny.

“nope, actually, i’m laying it on thick. this entire thing has been a ploy to get to ethan the entire time."

your shirts tugged again, this time stricter, "off." you back up gently, trying not to brush against him too much, peter nodding apologetically at his best friend when he's untrapped.

"sorry, e. i told her to leave you alone."

"but, peter!" you struggle agaisnt his hold, "c'mon, ethan! just hear me out, i mean, aren't you just a little curious?"

now he knows you were being truthful and weren't trying to secretly hook up with him he's a tad interested, and if you're so sure about this why would peter keep some tail from him?

"well... since we're all up."

peter scoffs and pushes you towards his bed, "fuck this, i'm going back to sleep. keep your body off of his, alright, trouble?" you salute him, "okay! see you in a minute, love you," you hit him with a kissy face, he supplies, "uh huh, sure."

you clasp your hands and grin at ethan, "okay, so," you sit back down next to him on his bed, turning your body to face him better, "her name is taylor, and she's super into you."

"and she's your friend?" it would make sense why peter didn't want him to know. it's a dangerous road to tag-team them both.

"well... she kinda is now. we met at a party here, i was going to the bathroom and she walked into peter's room, cause she was also looking for the bathroom, and then we started talking cause she walked in on me mid piss, and she's actually so cool."

you talk with your hands, "like, i dunno, you guys just have a similar vibe and i can just feel like it's a good thing. and i told peter about it but he was just like, 'you guys were just drunk,' and 'this is a set up, i don't trust it.'"

ethan's doing his best to follow you but it's seven in the morning.

"a set up?"

"peter doesn't trust it because he thinks she asked me if i could help her out with you."

"why?"

"she shares an economics class with you, and parties here a lot, and knows i'm dating peter so when we met it was like fate."

"and...?"

well, there's not much after that.

"i mean, that's kinda it. she likes you and she's really cool and you make her nervous so i figured i'd try and help her out."

ethan gives you a dumb face and pulls his blanket back over him, "you woke me up for that? get outta here, go back to parker."

you frown and pull at his arm, "no, no, no, hear me out. she's coming to the party tonight, just let me introduce you guys. and just so you know, she didn't ask for this. i just have a good feeling, you know, like how you did with peter and i?"

and ethan has to give you the benefit of the doubt, he clicks his tongue after he thought it over.

"alright, i'll meet her. but no promises."

you squeal and pull him in for a hug, which he shrugs off and wipes your touch off him. "gross."

--------------------

peter's busy directing a pledge around but your thing is more important.

rushing up to him you rest your hands on his chest, he doesn't even spare you a glance. "just move it over there, no! not- can you understand directions?"

growing impatient you push against him, "peter," his hands wrap around you, pulling you in for a hug, eyes on the struggling teen, "yes, trouble?"

"do you-"

peter whispers a curse under his breath, his chest hums under your ear. "c'mon, pledge! you're not even trying, just put the fucking table to the right." furniture scrapes of the floor and makes a horrible sound, you wince until peter's hands cup your ears, muffling the movement.

when his hands pull away you have his undivided attention, "sorry, trouble. what did you need?"

"do you know what ethan's wearing tonight?"

an unimpressed glance, "no, i don't think it's come up." a frown settles on your face, "okay, can i go check with him then?" your boyfriend sighs, "if you must, but, hey, trouble? i think this is a terrible idea."

"she didn't even ask me to say anything, petee-e-e?" almost letting the name slip around his brothers. "nice save, sweetheart. correct, she didn't ask, but it sounds like she was suggesting it."

"if you love me, you'll trust me when i say i have a good feeling."

peter can't deny that logic. blowing a breath he kisses the top of your head, "alright, go figure out what ethan's wearing then." before you could pull away from his hold he talks over your head, his chest vibrating while he spoke.

"i swear to god, pledge, you'll be cut, i'll send you out of here right fucking now." you poke his ribs, "be nicer and maybe he'll do better. you're freaking him out."

"are you telling me how to run my house?" you shrug and nudge into him further, "give it a try, you never know."

peter snaps his fingers, "jensen," the pledge jumps, "take a five. you're doing great, alright?" and seeing the refreshed smile on the kids face was proof enough for you.

"see? i'm always right."

"yeah, yeah, yeah."

-----------

it took a few hours, but taylor showed up. the second you saw her you did a happy dance in peter's hold, pure adrenaline had you boosting yourself up to kiss his jawline.

"taylor's here, should i find ethan now?"

a gentle pat at your back, "give the girl a second, maybe some liquid courage?"

you whine, "but i'm so excited! they're gonna date, and fall in love and then we'll go on double dates all the time." peter winced at your daydream, "i know, that's why i tried to forbit it."

ignoring him, as you've grown accustomed to, you keep the thoughts spinning. ethan had agreed to letting you introduce them, and taylor doesn't know you asked ethan, and taylor knows ethan but he doesn't know her.

so, if you could get them together, without getting them together, it would be even better. it would be like fate aligned, then, after they meet, you could act shocked when you tell ethan that's the taylor you were talking about.

your plan just might work, if you had a little help. demanding the attention you already have, you repeatedly poke at peter's chest. "hear me out, we set them up but kinda do a meet cute. cause then they're more in control than just some friends introducing them."

your boyfriend shook his head, "we? since you became my girlfriend it's a lot of 'we', this time it's a you. i want no part of this, trouble."

you wave him off, "no, you're obsessed with me. so, i'm thinking we try and get them to play a game of pong together, i mean, you'll have to get ethan in the kitchen but-"

peter's adamant, "no, no me. peter's not involved." to solidify his point he grew an invisible cross over his body.

tugging on his arm, you pout, "no! you have to! you're my boyfriend now, you can't be mean peter again."

"i'm not being mean! i'm just telling you i want no involvement, don't start with me."

it was honestly so rude of him to do this to you, "you're going to make me do this all alone?" peter can't help but laugh, "baby, this is all because of you."

it's true but he's supposed to support you no matter what.

"peter, please?" you think the puppy dog eyes are working, because he softens up, "trouble," you smile, waiting for his agreement, "no."

instantly grumpy, you swipe his hands off you, "oh, hey, don't be like this." you shake your head, "no, you hate me."

"for the six billionth time, i don't hate you."

"no, you-" you stop dead in your tracks, at least some universal force would help you out. because, who other than ethan would walk into the room taylor's in? no one, that's who.

"peter, do you see this right now?"

your back is pulled into his chest, an arm slung around your waist. "i do."

"what do we do?"

"nothing."

"i knew you'd say..." you hold your breath when taylor takes a few timid steps in ethan's direction. he's careless, humming to the song blasting and moving liquor bottles around. right when she got close enough for him to notice she backed off, turning right back for her friends.

"swing and a miss, trouble."

spinning in your boyfriend's hold you nod towards the kitchen, "i have to intervene."

"no, no you don't."

"yes, i have to. so, tell me you love me."

"no, it always encourages you to be bad."

"if i know you love me then i know you won't dump me. so, tell me you love me."

"nope, not happening, i don't condone this."

"peter! tell me you love me or i'm going to cry and know you hate me."

a groan, "trouble, i love you very much," you cheer, that's all you needed.

peter's hand caught yours to stop you from your plan, "but i don't like this. make your own decisions, and know i love you while you make them, but the idea of what you're doing makes me want to eat rocks."

"i stopped listening after 'trouble, i love you very much.'"

"of course you did. alright, fine, go play matchmaker."

you have his permission, it sends you across the living room and into the kitchen, bumping hips with peter's best friend.

"hi, friend," ethan looks up, ripping a chewed straw from his mouth.

"hello, trouble. how can i be of service?"

buying time you gesture to the array of bottles, "wanna make me one?" ethan hands you his cup, "try this first." your eyes flicker to the door way, taylor's tucked against the wall nibbling on her bottom lip when she sees you drink from his cup.

"yummy, make me a double."

"aye aye, captain."

you hum and tap your fingers on the counter, "any plans for tonight?" as he answers your question you scratch at a stain on his hat, "didn't you want me to meet your friend?"

"ooh, and we're planning the night around it?"

"more like hoping to get it out the way," ethan hands you your own solo cup. twisting ever so slightly, you line it up so that taylor's right behind your left shoulder, hoping ethan would glance up at any moment.

"she almost walked up to you, but split halfway through."

ethan's frowning when he pulls his drink down, the straw he was chewing on going back in his mouth.

"i'm not that scary, am i?"

"c'mon, ethan. ever had a crush?" he moves his head around, "sure, but at least i always went after what i wanted."

his eyes flicker up, and you know he's locked eyes with taylor. you can tell when he slowly stops chewing, his focus bouncing back to you, then behind you.

"is your friend around here or can we meet up later?"

you won, peter's going to be so annoyed, but you won.

"she's around, but we'll catch up." you pat his arm, "thanks for the drink, double."

ethan winked, "no problem, trouble."

peter rolled his eyes the second you made his way to him, "they're talking, do you see them talking?"

"ethan looks like he's having fun, morgan looks like she's about to puke."

"her name is taylor, and she's nervous!"

peter nods and finishes his drink, "taylor looks like she's about to puke."

you move to push at peter's back, his feet glue themselves to the floor while trying to look back at you.

"what are yo-"

"go get a drink and tell me what they're talking about."

he scoffs, "and i'm supposed to casually go out of my way to hang out behind them, just to get a jist of awkward flirting?" you know how much he hates it, and detests it, but this time he may give in.

"that's not the only way to listen in..." you trail waiting for him to catch the hint, he shuts it down immediately. "no. not happening." you push against his back, "c'mon, you never let me use your hidden talents."

peter leans back into your hands, "because if i do it once you'll want me to do it all the time." it's unfair and you use the same argument, "you know how much i like him and you never let me play with him."

"you play with him plenty, just not with the tricks."

you pull back to rope around his front, you give him doe eyes.

"just one time, i promise i will never, ever ask again."

peter knows he's playing with fire, he's made a clear line in the sand when it comes to you and spider-man but something in him tells him you really need this.

"just this once, i mean it, trouble."

you grab onto his shoulders, "really, you will? for me?"

"this is your one time pass, you wanna waste it on this?" he knows, and you know, this isn't the last time, but if he pretends it is maybe you'd back out.

"i have a good feeling." peter sighs and moves you to the side, "i'll be right back," you feel giddy, it's the first time you'll see spider-man in action. you zone in on your boyfriend, he moves around like normal, gets a drink, cleans up the counter a little, and you feel a tad disappointed.

peter seems totally normal, it makes sense, he's gotten used to flying under the radar. you watch ethan and taylor, she seems nervous but excited. she's laughing, you think it's a good thing.

it doesn't even look like peter's listening, you wonder if he's just acting like he his. you look around and don't see anyone, you speak low, nothing above a mumble in the music.

"peter? can you hear me?" he's pouring a drink from one cup to another, you huff, "peter." no reaction, "you're the worst boyfriend ever."

in a second he turns his neck, his eyes narrowed on your face while you look down to your feet. he was listening, and it makes you feel all melty. "i didn't mean it, i love you."

his look says 'no you don't.'

you're talking for the both of you, "it looked like you weren't paying attention, you're good at it." he takes an extra minute, then heads back.

you're swaying on your feet, excited for the new update.

"well?"

"it's going good."

"i swear to fucking god, peter, you give me more information right now or i'll dump you."

he holds his hand out, "alright, chill. your friend is smooth in an awkward way and ethan's eating it up. they've got some good banter going on, i'd be surprised if he didn't at least get her number tonight."

you squeal, "do you think he'll kiss her?" peter shrugs while he takes a sip from his solo cup. "probably."

"do you think he's made the connection that she's the taylor i was telling him about?"

he nods, "yeah."

"cool. what now?"

"nothing. you got what you wanted. just sit back and hang out."

"no! that can't be it! it doesn't feel satisfying. i need more!"

"this isn't a movie, trouble. you can't just skip to the good part."

"you're telling me you can't see the future?"

"no."

"that blows."

you shift around, it's driving you crazy. you had to walk away, otherwise you'd wonder over there or keep asking peter to listen in.

"i can't do this- give me a kiss, i'm finding my friends." you raise your chin and pucker, peter supplies a quick kiss. "tell you what, because i love you so much," you gasp, stars in your eyes at his confession. you'd never get annoyed at it, it's not often he says it first.

"i'll come grab you when they split up, just so you can bombard ethan."

"you're the best boyfriend ever."

"damn right i am, i'm making you eat your words, problem child.'

you squint at him and pucker again to silently ask for a kiss, "you're lucky you're cute."

--------------

an hour later and your groan into your boyfriend's shoulder, "this is torture. how are they still talking?"

"it's a good thing. i'll admit it, i hated it at first, but i've never seen ethan so invested in a girl before."

you may have a shot, "one more time?"

"no."

"but-"

"nope."

"you agr-"

"not happening. no way are you getting twice in one night."

"peter."

"no."

"peter."

"no."

"peter!"

"fuck, fine! jesus christ, give me a minute." you watch him close his eyes, slow deep breaths raised his chest. you poke his bicep gently, "peter-" he was gentle, "shhh."

you press your mouth into his shirt and breathe hot air into him, a minute later and he's shaking you off.

"i'll have you know, this is a very weird feeling. my senses are... different around you, and when you're around it's very distracting."

your head tilts, "really?"

he nods, "it's weird, but everything's going good over there. be happy!"

"weird how?"

"you take priority. when you're around and i try to focus on something else, you stay at the front of my mind. when you were calling my name earlier it tripped me the fuck up."

you hum, "i know why." peter's interested, "oh, really?" you nod, "yes, it's very simple. it's because you love me."

"you know what?" you shy away from his cheek kisses, "i think you are very right."

----------------

ethan spent the whole night with taylor, at some point they wondered from the kitchen to around the house. around the second hour you lost them entirely.

you shrugged it off and spent the rest of the night getting a little further than buzzed. finding peter in a swarm of friends, desperate for more than a hug.

"hi, trouble." peter tucks you under his arm, his thumb stroking your shoulder sent you wild. "hello," you nuzzle in closer, wrapping your arms around his middle.

you wait for a break in conversation, patiently nodding along and squeezing peter when he says something funny. when two brothers start to lightly bicker, you lean up, softly calling his name.

"hm?"

you motion for him to come closer, you hide your lips behind a cupped hand while you whispered.

"will you please come take care of me in the bedroom?"

peter's turn to whisper, "five minutes, meet you up there." before, you'd be a bit more sly, now that he's your boyfriend, you're proud of it. scrambling away to run up the stairs.

you take a moment to take your pants off, then bounce on the bed, because peter always lectured you when you did it around him. taking an extra minute to snoop around, not that there was a reason, and not that you couldn't do it with peter in the room. it just felt more sneaky.

you spread across your front and reached for his bedside table, nothing interesting on top. the drawer slid out, you peer at the contents and hum, condoms, lube, a couple 'dirty' poloroids he took of you. a few books, nothing you'd read, they seem more like textbooks than something fun to pass the time.

ripping a condom off the strip, you hold it up in the light and turn it. you invision the process of putting one on, you've never actually seen peter do it, one second he has it in his hand, the next,the wrappers on the ground and he's ready.

peter catches you in action, his eyebrows raised. "paranoid i'm poking holes?" you roll to your back and sit up, "do you think i could put this on you?"

"you wanna?"

"i've never done it before, is it hard?"

"i think the first couple times i used 'em i kinda fumbled. but hey, you got the expert guiding you."

you gasp, a smile takes over your face. "really, you'll let me?" your boyfriend let's out a soft laugh, "i don't see why not." peter walks to you and plucks the foil from your fingers, tossing it to the table. "hey! you said i could-"

"you can. but i need you to come on my tongue first, can you do that?"

you nod, wide eyed and sparkly, "yes, yes, i can do that."

--------------

still naked and blinking at your boyfriend you poke at his nose, "would it be weird if it waited for ethan in his room?"

peter's eyes stayed closed. "extremely."

"but i'm so curious! do you think they're gonna hook up tonight?"

he yawns, "no." you test him by scooching closer, not fully cuddling, but an arm thrown over his hips. "is that like, intuition?"peter tugs you to lay on his chest, you melt into him.

a hand drags up and down your back, "sure is, my best friend intuition." you groan, "we're going in there first thing in the morning and getting the details."

"we?"

"shut up, i know you're just as desperate for information as me."

"... fine, but i'm only going as your moral support."

---------------

ethan was not home when you woke up and your disappointment was visible.

"my day has been ruined."

"trouble, no it hasn't. give the man a second, you're like a kid on christmas."

"i'm gonna go nuts and it's gonna be your problem, what then?"

"it usually is, so same thing i always do?"

"ugh! this super sucks, i know i should've walked in there. it's eating me alive, like, i'm the one that set this up and i get left in the dust? does ethan think it's his relationship? cause, it's our relationship. without me he'd still be alone."

"damn, trouble, tell me how you really feel."

you jump. peter's pointing with a spatula behind you.

"good fuckin luck, buddy."

the star of the show was home, you cheer and attack him with a hug. ethan supplies gentle pats to your lower back. "where were you, did you go home with taylor, how did you like her, was i right, is there something there, did you kiss her?"

"oh my god, parker, come get your girl."

"oh no, i just pawned her off."

ethan wheezes when you squeeze him, "c'mon, tell me, tell me!" peter calls for you, "trouble, stop bouncing on my friend." you step away, "sorry."

"okay, okay, ready?"

it's everything you've been hoping for, you jump to the counter peter's closest to and swing your feet. ethan has your full attention, "so, went up to her, we were chatting, had a good talk, and got her number."

"and then?"

"we went out for breakfast this morning."

you turn to look for peter's reaction, he's already looking at yours. you nod ethan along, waiting for him to add more.

"and then?"

"uh, that's all."

peter leans over the island to fist bump him, "nice, man. happy for you."

you look at their faces, they seem done with it. no more talk, you're missing the entire story. you panic and shout out, "and then?"

"i told you everything!"

you huff, "no the fuck you didn't, you left out the giant details of everything else." ethan shrugs, "not really. she's cool, we got some breakfast. oh, she gave me her toast. and uh... parker, you saw her, right?"

"i did."

"she's nice looking, right?"

"she is."

ethan gestures to your boyfriend with his chin, "see? all caught up."

you were losing your mind, "really, that's all? nothing on what you talked about, or how you feel about her, no mention of a second date?"

"yeah, yeah, second date happening for sure. i dunno, trouble, guys aren't really like that. but, uh, good pick?"

you spun to peter, pointing in his face, "ha! i knew it, i knew it, i knew it! i told you they would be good together!"

"oh i never doubted you, i just didn't want this,' gesturing to your body, 'happening."

you look back to ethan, "when's the double date?"

peter and ethan respond at the same time, "not anytime soon."

---------------

bonus::

'hey, peter. did you know ethan and taylor have been together since their first date?'

'i did.'

'four months in and they're saying i love you.'

'they are.'

'and why couldn't that be us?'

'oh, i will not entertain this conversation again.'

----------------

bonus bonus:::

'you're cuter,'

'no, no, you're cuter.'

'well, you're the cutest!'

'no way, you're cuter than cute.'

'you're so cute you-'

you gag, 'peter, please make them stop.'

'oh no, trouble. this is what you wanted.'

[sjsmith56]

Faces of Bucky Barnes

Summary: One shot of an interaction with the multiverse that affects Bucky Barnes during a tough time in his life.

Length: 7.4 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes from 2024, Bucky Barnes from 1938, Jim Barnes (son of another AU Bucky from 1971), Bucky Barnes from 1998 (AU).

Warnings: some references to drug use, domestic abuse, alcohol abuse, and suicide but it’s not really a dark fic.

Author notes: Set at the same time as Spider-Man: No Way Home but only connected in a roundabout way. Also slightly connected to What If? Season 2, Episode 2, What If? ... Peter Quill Attacked Earth's Mightiest Heroes.   Images in the banner were created by the author using the Microsoft Copilot App in Designer mode.

🌃 🌉 🥡

It was Bucky's favourite place to go when he needed to get out of his head for a while. A rooftop on an empty warehouse that overlooked an approach to the Brooklyn Bridge was the perfect location to sit at night and see the bridge that he had grown up with all those years ago, before the war, before HYDRA, before the Avengers. Before everything became fucked up again.

This time, it was Alexander Ross who set in motion the latest attempt to rope Bucky into doing something he didn't want to do. The man just wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You served your country before, then you served HYDRA. I'm just asking you to serve your country again. Then we'll call it even."

Those were his exact words. As if Bucky's service in World War II wasn't enough, all by itself. As if fighting Thanos twice and containing the Flag Smashers also wasn't enough. Why couldn't Bucky just be left alone to do what he wanted? Why couldn't he tinker with old cars and motorcycles, keeping them in good repair for enthusiasts who still appreciated how things were made before. The sound of a siren on the bridge caught his attention and he focused on a police car in pursuit of someone. That part was still very much the same now as it had been then, even though the subway cars and vehicles crossing the bridge looked different. There were always going to be people who lived on the wrong side of the law and those who would hunt them down.

Why did Ross think it should be him doing the hunting? The man wouldn't even say who it was he wanted Bucky to hunt down but deep down the super soldier knew that Ross saw a lot of good people as enemies and that's what bothered him the most. For all he knew Ross wanted Bucky to go after Sam, or even Peter Parker, and that would never happen.

Peter Parker, that kid was facing problems just as bad as Bucky had it. He just couldn't seem to catch a break. Why couldn't they leave him alone as well? Let him go to college, marry his girlfriend, have a family. He was a good kid, and a smart one. But no, certain segments of society were out to pigeon-hole him as a threat.

"Stop," he said out loud. "Breathe. Peter will be okay. You can tell Ross no and you'll be okay. Life will go on."

A sound of a portal opening behind him made him shake his head. How did the sorcerers always find him? He turned around to see if it was Dr. Strange or Wong, but he didn't expect to see what he saw there and stood up, facing the young man, with his face, his much younger face, dressed in a brown suit.

"What just happened?" The younger version asked, his face a mask of surprise. "I'm in Brooklyn, cuz that's the Brooklyn Bridge so that must be Manhattan but it ain't nothin' like the New York I know. Who are you?"

His Brooklyn accent was strong, much stronger than Bucky's accent of 2024. He studied the current version carefully, lingering on his eyes, recognizing him. Approaching him where he stood near the edge, he looked up at him, puzzled that this older man with his face was taller.

"Are you me?"

Fuck it. The guy just walked through a portal from the 1930s based on that suit that Bucky remembered wearing then.

"James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1917, is the day I was born, in Indiana," replied Bucky. "Moved here when I was a little kid. You?"

"Same," he replied. "You're older and taller than me and dressed different. What year is it?"

Older Bucky smiled a little. He read a lot of science and fantasy fiction when he was younger so the thought of it being a different year obviously came easily to his other self.

"2024, and before you say that makes me 107 years old, yes, I am that, technically. But there's a reason I'm still alive and I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you. What I can do is phone someone to get you back home."

The younger Bucky smirked. "Hate to break it to you, pal, but there ain't a pay phone up here."

It was older Bucky's turn to smirk as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled Dr. Strange. His smirk turned to a frown as the call went to voice mail.

"Hey, Strange, it's Bucky Barnes," he said into the phone. God, he hated voice mail. "I'm talking to a version of myself from ...." He looked at his younger self. "What year exactly are you from?"

"1938, was headed out for my 21st birthday party. Supposed to pick up Steve then meet Dot and a bunch of friends at a dance hall in Rockaway Beach."

Fuck, he was such a punk then. "The younger version of me says he's from 1938. Are you messing around with the multiverse again? Call me back, or better yet, get over here. I'll keep my phone on so you can locate it."

He hung up then noticed his younger self looking curiously at it.

"It's called a cell phone. There aren't many pay phones these days as nearly everyone has their own personal phone, even homeless people. It's used for more than that. You can pull up maps, watch movies, television shows, play games, even pay for things."

He shrugged. The younger man looked back at the Manhattan skyline, his eyes taking it all in.

"I can still see the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building," he said, "but look at the height on some of those others. People live in those?"

"Most are office buildings," replied older Bucky. He sighed. "Not sure what's going on as you shouldn't be here. The guy I phoned is a sorcerer acquaintance. He should be getting back to me."

"Sorcerer? Seriously? They're around in the future?"

"They were around in the past," said older Bucky, "but more hidden and secretive. The ones now have had to be more visible because of ... stuff."

The sound of another portal behind them had them both turning to the source. Young Bucky's face transformed into something incredulous as the telltale sparkle of light appeared and grew larger, except it wasn't a sorcerer who came through. It was another version of Bucky, definitely from the multiverse because he was young, but he looked like he came from the 1960s or 1970s, as he had long hair, a Fu Manchu moustache and wore bell bottom jeans and a jean jacket. He came through, watching the sparkling circle close then noticed the others standing there.

"Far out," he said, as the portal closed behind him. "That was some trip." He noticed the 1930s version of himself. "Cool threads, man. Got a 1930s vibe going there." He looked closer at the two of them. "Weird. You look like me, except you're older and you're younger. Dude, what's happening?"

"Did you understand that?" asked 1938 Bucky.

"Some of it," said original modern Bucky. "Not sure what's going on, but I think you two appeared here from your original universes. What year was it before you came through the portal?"

"1971," replied the long-haired version. "I smoked up a little while ago, thought maybe I was hallucinating. This is real? What year?"

"2024," answered 1938 Bucky as he glanced at original Bucky. "He smells of reefer."

"Reefer." The long-haired man laughed. "They haven't called it that since the 1940s. What do they call it now?"

"Weed, mostly or cannabis," said original Bucky, sighing. "Can't believe I'm having this conversation. It's legal now, at least in New York, so they refer to it by brand names as well."

"No shit!" The long-haired man laughed again. "Like, you can buy it in a store?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Bucky dialled Dr. Strange again, getting another voice mail prompt which made him hang up. This was definitely a multiverse thing but the fact there was a version of him that was born after the war meant he wasn't just in his original time frame. He was in different ones as well. Unless ... this guy was his kid.

"What's your name, when were you born and who were your parents?" he asked. "Sorry, just trying to keep things straight."

"Jim Barnes, Jr., born in 1950," said the long hair version. "My dad was James Buchanan Barnes, Sr., and my mother was Dolores Barnes. They split up when I was about 10.

Fuck, this guy was his kid. 1938 Bucky glanced at him, obviously thinking the same thing, as he mouthed Dolores' nickname, Dot.

"Why did they split up?"

"My dad was never right after the war," said Jim. "Lost his best friend in 1945 when he fell off a train during a mission. Tried to drink himself to death but never seemed to get there. He could out drink anyone, so he just got angry and eventually it got too dangerous for us to be around him. Us three kids stayed with Mom." He shrugged. "Not sure I'll be seeing any of them any time soon. I decided to go to Canada when I got my draft notice. It's just a matter of when."

Modern Bucky felt his stomach do a flip. Steve must have fallen off the train in this man's timeline, an event that obviously affected him deeply. This son of his was 21, in 1971. It meant he likely was drafted into the Vietnam War and didn't want to go. He glanced at the 1938 version of himself, who was frowning at this revelation.

"It was because of a war in Southeast Asia," Bucky murmured. "By all accounts it wasn't supported too well by the population. Some burned their draft cards and went to Canada. Stayed there, too." He looked at Jim sympathetically. "Can I ask you something? Are you strong? Like really strong? Can you handle your alcohol well?"

"Yeah," said the younger man suspiciously. "Takes a lot to get me buzzed. Sometimes, it's not worth the trouble." He frowned. "I'm not a coward. I am strong but I don't want to fight anyone. It's a bogus war, man. Rich boys can get deferments or get into the Coast Guard or the National Guard and not have to go over but even they've been involved in some killings. The killing of those four students in Ohio last year was the last straw for me. I'm not firing against American citizens."

His dad obviously never told anyone about what HYDRA did to him and he passed on his abilities to his kids. No wonder he was trying to drink himself to death. The guilt over Steve's death ... wait, if Steve fell, did he become.... He shook his head, clearing that thought.

"Your dad, is he still alive?"

Jim swallowed, looked at the Brooklyn Bridge with obvious pain then back at Bucky.

"No, he put a bullet in his head a couple of years ago, after my older brother Steve came back from Vietnam missing an arm. That's another reason I'm not going. If anything happened to me, it would kill my mom and as fucked up as I am, I do love her. I love Steve and Rebecca as well."

Bucky placed his hand on Jim's shoulder, patting it sympathetically. The sound of another portal drew all of their attention as the circle formed. What stepped out shocked Bucky, as this version of him wore a uniform that was obviously his universe's version of Captain America, complete with a dull silver-coloured prosthetic arm. His hair, longer than Bucky's but shorter than Jim's was clean and somewhat styled. He looked startled at the 1938 version of Bucky, then puzzled at Jim Barnes. Finally, he noticed modern Bucky, specifically the metal hand and approached him.

"What year?" he asked, gesturing to the skyline.

"2024," replied modern Bucky. "I've been out of HYDRA for ten years. You?"

"1998. I was sent to be Russia's contribution to a threat to the world in 1988 and escaped but I ended up in a car accident a couple of years later. Went into a coma. When I woke up it was 1994 and my old arm was gone but Tony Stark made me a new one. Somehow the damage that put me into a coma neutralized the trigger words. Peggy Carter asked me to be Captain America for the Avengers. What else was I going to do?" He shook his head then looked at the two younger men as they stood gazing at the Manhattan skyline, so different from what they were used to. "I take it these two are other versions of ourselves."

"Not exactly," said Bucky, gesturing to the 1938 version. "He's an original. The other one is our son. In his universe, Steve fell off the train and we tried to drink ourselves to death, never telling anyone what we were or accepting it."

"Shit, does he have ...?"

Modern Bucky nodded. "We should tell him, as it appears he's self-medicating a lot, unsuccessfully. Mind you it's 1971 in his world and he's just made the decision to be a draft dodger." He hesitated for a moment. "My words are gone as well, courtesy of a brilliant scientist. She designed this arm for me. You should know that Steve is alive."

"What? They said he was lost in a plane crash in 1945."

"Frozen in the ice. In this universe, they find him in 2011 and thaw him out. The serum kept him alive. He stayed here until last year then went back in time to be with Peggy. Cap in this time is another guy, Sam Wilson. He has wings."

"They didn't ask you?"

Bucky shrugged, then looked over to the Brooklyn Bridge. "Too messed up in my own head. I killed a lot, including Howard and his wife, in my timeline. I remember them all."

"I'm sorry." Cap Bucky placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You are a good man. I killed a lot for HYDRA as well, but Peggy never held that against me. Neither do the other Avengers. I guess Howard died of cancer when I was in a coma. What you do in the here and now is what should define you. Easier said, I know, but still true." He took a breath. "So, what are we going to do? Sit here and wait for a sorcerer to appear? I could use something to eat."

Bucky looked at the others. "You guys hungry? I don't live too far. We could pick up some takeout and beer. I left a message for Dr. Strange. Once he checks his messages he should come and help get you back to where you belong."

"Food is good," said 1930s Bucky. "What's takeout?"

The other three smiled the same lopsided smile and Bucky gestured to follow him down a fire escape. They stopped at a Korean place that was still open, with the proprietor waving to Bucky from the kitchen, as he was a regular customer. He ordered several servings of everything, knowing that three of the four of them could easily finish it, choosing Korean fried chicken, beef and pork bulgogi, green onion cakes, japchae, bibimbap with rice, and kimchi. Although the staff gave the other three some second and third looks, they didn't say anything.

"This universe has seen some strange things, including aliens, androids and sorcerers," explained modern Bucky. "Seeing three other versions of me doesn't even come close to weird."

After dividing the food bags between them they made one more stop at a 24-hour liquor store with Bucky getting a couple of six packs of beer and a bottle of bourbon. They crammed into the elevator of his building.

"I only have a one-bedroom place," said Bucky. "Not much furniture but I'm good on the floor if you others want to take a chair. I'm living on an army pension so it's what I could afford."

When he handed off the food and booze to the others to unlock the door, he opened it and stepped back to let them in first. They filed in, dropping everything off on the small kitchen island.

"This is nice," said 1930s Bucky. "Clean, small but if it's just you it's enough. Nicer than that slum Steve is living in."

Both modern Bucky and Cap Bucky nodded, remembering that tenement room their best friend insisted on living in. Taking his meagre assortment of glasses out, Bucky poured out some bourbon in each one, holding his glass in front of him.

"Here's mud in your eye," he said, draining it in one gulp. "They've been kind enough to provide us four servings of rice, just take what you want from each of the other containers and dig in."

For the next few minutes there was no sound as they all went after the food, transferring portions into their individual rice boxes. Modern Bucky sat on the floor, leaning against the wall as the other three took the armchair, and the two dining table chairs that were there. Cap Bucky eyed the bedding on the floor.

"Sleeping there?"

"Yeah, bed's too soft," replied modern Bucky. "I manage a few hours every night."

Jim swallowed his food and looked critically at the two artificial arms. "What's with the arms?"

"Not sure I can tell you, exactly," said Cap Bucky. "Let's just say this Bucky and I have a shared experience where we lost our flesh arms, went through some shit, then got a new life and new arms in the process."

"Were you born in 1917 as well?" asked 1930s Bucky. "He already told me."

"Yeah, I was. Don't know if you'll go through what we went through. Jim's dad didn't, at least not the way we did."

"He had both of his original arms," said Jim. "But he was one angry guy. Ma said before the war he was a lot of fun but after ... he was a different man. She still loved him, but he hurt her and us, more than once."

"I would never hit a woman," stated 1930s Bucky. "Not Dot, I loved her."

The other two Bucky's looked meaningfully at each other. On a hunch, modern Bucky signed to Cap Bucky, who sat back and watched, nodding his head. He signed back, as the other two realized what they were doing.

"What can it hurt?" asked modern Bucky, verbally. "They've already seen two different versions of us, and how New York looks in the 21st century. Maybe, this Bucky is this guy's dad. If he understands what might happen, he can deal with it better, and I'm sure Jim would like to understand more of what his dad went through that made him the way he is. It can help him with his own timeline and whether he should go to Canada."

The bright blue eyes of Cap Bucky seemed to harden for a moment then they softened.

"Alright, we tell them both everything," he said. "We can't change our past but maybe we can change their futures."

For the rest of that night, the two Bucky's with prosthetic arms told their stories, amazing each other with the synchronization of their journeys until Cap Bucky's took a turn when he listened to Howard Stark and didn't kill a boy who only wanted to get back home to Earth. Both 1930s Bucky and Jim Barnes questioned them about details, about the things that they wished they had done. By sunrise, the 1930s Bucky had loosened his shirt and tie and was lying on top of the double bed in the bedroom. Jim Barnes had taken his boots and jacket off and was lying next to him curled up with his hand hanging over the edge. Cap and Modern Bucky still sat in the living room, leaning against the open wall, while finishing the bourbon.

"So, where exactly is Steve in 1998?" asked Cap.

"Buried in a glacier in the Arctic," said Bucky, reaching for one of his notebooks and tearing a sheet out. "Here's the coordinates." He watched as Cap looked at it, folded it up and placed inside a hidden pocket. "They were on a display in the Smithsonian. He's alive and they should be able to resuscitate him. I don't know if your universe will go through with what mine did but if it does, aliens start to show up in 2011, then Tony tries to make Ultron in 2014 to protect the Earth. Instead, Ultron went a little crazy and decided to kill humans. Aliens start looking for the stones ... that blue Tesseract is one of them ... and Thanos comes calling in 2018. If he does, remember to go for the head. Don't let him snap his fingers or else half of all life, everywhere, is just gone."

"What about you?" There was sympathy and understanding in Cap Bucky's eyes. "What's going on with you?"

"A powerful man wants me to work for him." Bucky looked at his metal hand. "By work, I think he means for me to hunt other enhanced individuals and bring them together so that he can control them. I don't want to do it but he's in a position to make my life miserable if I don't." He looked around at his little flat. "This isn't what I ever envisioned for myself. I'm 107 years old, living on an army pension that barely pays the bills, while waiting on the army to give me my back pay for all the years I was basically a prisoner of war. Half of society thinks I should have been shot for what I did as the Winter Soldier, and the other half are indifferent to my existence."

"You have friends though, right?" Modern Bucky felt his face get warm. "You don't think you're worthy of friendship, do you?" Cap sipped his bourbon, thoughtfully. "Obviously, I didn't kill as many people as you did when HYDRA, then Russia had me in their control, but the body count was still up there. I became a kind of vigilante when I first got away from them. I could hear calls for help and would get to people who were being assaulted. I hid myself a lot. Then, I got hit by an armoured truck and knocked out. Stayed that way for four years. When I woke up, Peggy Carter was sitting next to my bed. Tony showed up within the hour. A few of the Howlies showed up, old men all of them, but they were so happy to see me. None of them ever forgot about me and Peggy apologized for not looking for me, even though she suspected who the Winter Soldier was years later. I could have been angry, but the fact was that I could have also escaped sooner than I did. I just convinced myself that I was too far gone and not worth saving. I was wrong. Don't give up on life, Buck. If you don't want to do what this guy wants you to do, then don't do it. Call in your friends, tell the newspapers, expose his plans to the daylight. Fight for your right to have a life, to be just another face in the crowd."

"You make it sound easy." Bucky sighed. "I'm just tired of it. You know what I really want to do? Fix motorcycles and cars from the 1930s and 40s, find an understanding woman who doesn't mind listening to the old music with me, maybe dinner out or dancing once in a while, having a couple of kids and playing catch with them in the back yard. Getting old ... God, how I want to grow old." He rubbed his face. "Sounds pathetic."

"No, not at all," smiled Cap Bucky. "Sounds pretty perfect to me."

A portal began forming in Bucky's living room and both men stood up. Dr. Strange strode through.

"I got your message," he said, taking in Cap Bucky. "How many?"

"Three, although one of them isn't me. He's, my son."

Strange frowned. "Your son ... interesting. Well, get them out here and I'll send them back."

Modern Bucky went into the bedroom while Cap Bucky stayed out in the living room with Dr. Strange.

"Can you do me a favour?" he asked. "Is there any way you can make him appear like another face in the crowd?"

"That's what got me into this mess," said Strange. "A similar request from another person. You mean, no one would know who he is?"

"I mean, I think he would want to keep his friends because he doesn't have many and he shouldn't have to start at the beginning to find new ones." A crease appeared in Cap's forehead between his eyes. "All he wants is to live in peace, fix old vehicles, find the right woman and grow old. Is that too much to ask?"

Strange looked carefully at this version of Bucky, noticing the uniform. He had obviously come to terms with his own past if he was Captain America in another universe. The Bucky from this universe came out of the bedroom followed by a younger version of him from what appeared to be the 1930s and another from the 1970s. They were both rubbing their eyes as if they had been asleep for a while. The younger Bucky's eyes grew large at the sight of Dr. Strange.

"Sorcerer?" Modern Bucky nodded making the 1930s version grin. "Far out."

Jim Barnes grinned at the use of his term by the older Bucky. "He doesn't look like Gandalf."

"None of us do," deadpanned Strange. "Alright, let's get you two back to where you belong. No talking about what you've seen or heard. Frankly, people in your times will think you've had a psychiatric episode if you do, so keep it quiet."

With a wave of his hand the first portal opened, and 1930s Bucky quickly shook hands with the others before stepping through. Once that portal closed, he opened another one for Jim Barnes who looked thoughtfully at the two Bucky's then waved when he stepped back into 1971. Cap Bucky extended his metal arm to modern Bucky and the two men with the shared HYDRA past grasped each other's arms before releasing them. After he stepped through the portal only Bucky and Dr. Strange were left.

"Busy night?"

"You don't know the half of it," said Strange. "Is everything alright, with you, I mean."

"Thaddeus Ross is pressuring me to join his "team," said Bucky. "I think he wants to use me to hunt down enhanced individuals. Even though the Sokovia Accords are toast he still wants control of us."

"What do you want?"

"To find my own way, one that doesn't involve hurting people, or having to justify why I should be allowed to live," said Bucky, frowning. "I just want the life I was supposed to have if HYDRA never get their claws into me, unless I ended up a serial killer anyways, because I don't want that."

"That's fair," said Strange. "Excuse me for a moment." Bucky watched as the sorcerer did his thing with the Time Stone. When he came out of his momentary review of time, he looked at Bucky and smiled. "I don't think you have to worry about Thaddeus Ross too much. As for the rest, I'm sure things will look better. How was it visiting with two versions of yourself and a version of your son?"

"Interesting," admitted Bucky. "I should try to get some sleep. Cap and I stayed up all night comparing our HYDRA experiences. I'm glad to see another version of me got away from them."

Dr. Strange said nothing, just smiled his grim smile, opened a portal and stepped through.

March 15, 1938

"So, there's no connection between having your birthday celebration now and the Ides of March?" asked Steve as the two friends headed to the train station. "I was surprised when you canceled out last weekend."

"Nope, unless you're all planning to stab me in the back," said Bucky, waving to Dot and her friend. "Now, Margie is shy like you, but she's into art. Dot says she's always drawing something."

"She looks nice." Steve blushed as his friend put his arm around his shoulder and drew up to the two young women. "Hi, Dot."

"Hey, Stevie," she said, after receiving a kiss on the cheek from Bucky. "This is my friend Margie. She's in the art program at Pratt."

"Yeah?" His face brightened. "I just had a year at Auburndale but couldn't afford another year."

"Auburndale's good," said Margie, liking Steve's blue eyes and ready smile. "I was lucky to get a scholarship to Pratt. What's your favourite medium?"

Steve offered her his arm as they went up the steps. Bucky took Dot's hand, pulling her towards him, and wrapping his arms around her.

"Thanks for waiting until this weekend and finding him a date. I didn't want Steve to feel like a third wheel."

She shrugged; her red hair vibrant under the streetlight. "I don't know why I didn't think of pairing them together before. They're alike in many ways. Steve's a good guy. He just needs to loosen up a bit."

Bucky grinned then his face grew serious as he gazed at her. "I love you; you know. Have for a long time."

Her face changed at his declaration, as she smiled then placed her hand on his cheek. "I love you, too, Bucky. Now let's go dancing."

With their arms around each other they followed the other couple up the stairs to the elevated train station, waiting for the one that would take them to the dance hall at Rockaway Beach, the second dance of the spring season.

April 7, 1971

Jim stepped off the train, placing his satchel over his shoulder as he walked towards the exit. When he stepped back into his time after being in the future, he wasn't sure what to expect. But ending up in the library at Brooklyn College wasn't it. Hopefully, he still lived in the same house with his mother, brother Steve and sister Rebecca. On the train ride to their neighbourhood, he thought over what happened to him. It had been an interesting experience, that was for sure. Perhaps, he could write about it in his journalism class. His stop came up and he made his way to the door, stepping out into the cool spring evening air. It was only a short walk from the station to the house.

"You got mail!" His mother called as he stepped inside.

How she always knew it was him coming in was interesting. He looked at the return address, Department of Defence. Shit, it was his draft notice. His last deferment didn't go through. Stopping dead in the hallway in front of the stairs he stared at the envelope wondering whether to open it.

"You better deal with it sooner rather than later," said a familiar voice that shocked him.

"Dad? I thought ...."

His dad put his finger up to his mouth. "It's me," he whispered. "It's been hard waiting for this day, waiting for this version of you to come home and know the truth. I remembered what you wore that night."

"I thought we couldn't change our past," said Jim, as his dad took him by the elbow into the living room.

"I changed my future and that changed yours, but you had to get back here to know it," said the older Barnes. "I didn't join the 107th. I became a pilot and Steve became a reporter, drawing comics of the various soldiers he met as he covered the war. Some other guy became Captain America. Some other guy became the Winter Soldier. It still worked out for them because they were different guys, and their futures were different than ours."

"But our Steve still lost his arm," said Jim.

"Yeah, but he didn't lose us because I didn't lose your mom and you kids. We got him through it, and we'll get you through whatever that letter says." He placed his calloused hand on his son's face. "I think that's why you were there so that I would know you, know what you went through as a kid because of how I dealt with the things that happened to me in your timeline. I've tried really hard to be a good man, Jim."

His eyes were glassy as he said it and the two men hugged. Then Jim opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, making a sigh of relief.

"Coast Guard," he said. "They've taken my ... when did I become an experienced sailor?"

"Since I started taking you kids out on sailboats when you were kids," smiled Bucky. "Don't worry, it should come to you, once you integrate into this timeline. Your brother, Steve, ended up on a patrol boat in the Vietnamese river system, lost his arm when he was shot from the shore. With the Coast Guard, you could end up working from home. You don't have to go to Canada, although you'll have to cut your hair and shave that monstrosity off your face."

His grin showed Jim that his dad was joking, and they hugged again. Both men thought back to that night when they went from their respective times into the future and met two other Bucky's who had gone through hell. Something drew them there, to fix both of them, and to fix what was wrong between them. It was meant to be.

May 17, 1998

Bucky was with the team when they located the Valkyrie just under the top layer of the glacier. It had shrunk from when the aircraft crash landed into it in 1945. Since then, the one wing tip was slowly exposed, to the point where it showed up on an aerial survey done by the Greenland parks service, close to the coordinates given to Bucky in 2024. Carefully they had used steam to thaw out the door into the large aircraft, finding it mostly undamaged inside, although a lot of ice had built up from all the water that seeped in from the glacier. Then a corporal called to them when he spied the shield and Bucky hurried over there, brushing the frost away from the body that lay encased in ice under the shield.

"Steve," he whispered, confirming his identity.

The extraction team came in, carefully unthawing the ice several inches underneath the frozen remains, then lifting the icy block onto a stretcher, then into a Chinook helicopter. Bucky sat near Steve's body, watching as the block of ice was wrapped in thermal blankets to slow down the rate of the ice melting so it was gradual and wouldn't put his body into shock. By the time the large helicopter landed in Thule, they had the special medical unit set up, with Peggy and Tony waiting as Steve's body was wheeled in. None of them slept well over that week as they did everything they could to keep the thawing process stable. When the decision was made to start warming the body they waited anxiously, hoping that the information given to Bucky was accurate. Ten days after he was transported there, Steve Rogers opened his eyes and saw himself in a hospital room, with tubes and IV lines coming in and out of his body. He shifted, setting up a bunch of alarms, which brought a number of people running. The person he noticed first was already there, with a head of dark hair, long in length, a several day-old beard, and the blue eyes of his best friend, Bucky.

"Hey punk," said that best friend, grinning at him. "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid until I got back."

"Buck." Steve tried to raise himself, but several hands came out to stop him. "You're alive. You fell."

"Yeah, I did." Bucky smiled sadly. "I'll tell you about it later. The important thing is that we found you. A lot has happened since you went into the ice, but now that you're here, I think things are going to look up."

The two friends looked at each other with affection. Catching up would have to wait, as a team of medical personnel arrived to document the momentous occasion when a frozen body was successfully reanimated after over 50 years encased in the ice. It was one for the history books.

May 31, 2024

It had been almost two weeks since that night when the three portals discharged the two Bucky's and Jim Barnes on the rooftop of the building. Bucky had kept a low profile since then, although he phoned Sam, telling him about Ross's ultimatum to him. Sam was angry about that and raised a very public stink, which made Ross back off, although Bucky still had the feeling someone was watching him from afar. More than likely, he was being paranoid. On this Friday morning, he got up, hearing about a particular motorcycle for sale in Bensonhurst. When he got off the train he began the short walk to the shop. Frowning at the Closed sign on it when he arrived, he peeked inside the window, then noticed a back door was open. Heading around to the back he saw a woman, sitting in a lawn chair, with her feet up on a crate, a coffee on another crate while she closed her eyes in the sun.

"Excuse me," he said, making her eyes open, frowning at him. "I called about the World War II motorcycle. The man said I could come this morning to look at it."

She ran her eyes over him, then sighed. "That was likely my deadbeat brother. He's taken the bike. Said he had a buyer for it in the Bronx. Personally, I think he took it to his loan shark, to pay off some of his debt. Sorry that you came all this way for nothing." She shook her head, seeming to fight off some tears. "Hell of a way to run a business but what do I know? My dad left it to both of us and he's running it into the ground, while I'm trying to make it a going concern."

"Well, I guess the price he quoted was too good to be true," said Bucky. "I'm sorry to bother you."

He turned to leave but she called out to him. "Hey mister? There's another classic motorcycle in there. Needs some work but whatever price you want to pay for it, I'm willing to let it go for that. Otherwise, the bank will just seize it when they foreclose."

"I don't want to take advantage of your situation," said Bucky.

She stood up, surprising him with her height as she was only a couple of inches shorter than him.

"Come in and have a look at it, you never know," she replied, walking towards the open door to the shop.

They stepped inside and right away, Bucky felt comfortable with all the motorcycles in various states of repair. He saw several from the 1940s as well as some 1950s models. She stopped beside a silver motorcycle that seemed to be complete, a 1958 Triumph Tiger 100. He kneeled down, looking carefully at the engine, then stood up and examined the finishings.

"She's beautiful," he said. "What's left to do?"

The woman shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not sure what I'm missing. She starts up fine, then about a mile into the ride she starts running rough and by the time I get her back here she gives up the ghost. I've put a lot of time into restoring her but I'm missing something."

"You're the mechanic?" He noticed her look of dismay at his comment. "I'm not being critical. I'm impressed." He stuck his hand out. "Bucky."

"Angel," she replied, shaking his hand, then noticing his smile. "Yeah, it's my real name. I guess my great grandpa took one look at me when he came to the hospital just after I was born and said I was an angel. He's the one who started this shop, after World War II. He was responsible for the motor pool for the Howling Commandos, Sergeant Bruno Moretti."

She pointed to a large, framed photograph on the wall. With a smile, Bucky went over to it, grinning at the picture of the Howling Commandos as he bent closer to it. That's when Angel saw him in the picture, then looked back and forth between the man standing beside her and the man on the old photograph.

"You're Bucky Barnes."

"Yeah," he replied, then straightened up. "You're Sarge's great granddaughter. Did you know him?"

"No, he died when I was about a year old. Grandpa told me his stories about the Howlies ... that's what you called yourselves, right?"

Bucky nodded his head, feeling nostalgic at the moment. "They were a good group of guys. Sarge always kept us supplied with working vehicles. Didn't even mind when I would tinker with the motorcycles. Showed me a few things as well. Sometimes, I'm amazed I still remember it."

"Well, you've been through a lot," replied Angel. "It must be hard at times, stuck in a future that is so different. Sometimes .... Never mind." She looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"No, it's okay," said Bucky. "What were you going to say?"

"Well, sometimes I feel like I'm out of my right time," she said. "I mean, I like the old music, and even though I'm a mechanic, I'm kind of a girlie girl when I'm not knuckle deep in a greasy engine. It must be worse for you sometimes. I imagine you missed out on a lot of things because of what happened to you." She looked away again. "Sorry, I'm babbling."

"I don't mind. You're honest without being cruel and that's a good quality."

They stood without talking for a moment, comfortable in the silence, then their peace and quiet was shattered by the arrival of Angel's brother, Tony. Right away, Bucky didn't care for the guy, wondering how he was such a jerk compared to his sister. Eventually, he found that he had to leave before he was tempted to punch Tony and headed out the back door. Before he got very far, he heard his voice being called and turned to see Angel walking towards him. She handed him her business card.

"Stay in touch," she smiled. "We can go for coffee or something. If you want."

"Yeah, I would like that." He looked at her again. "Do you have your phone with you?" She nodded. He phoned the number she gave him, making her phone ring. "Save my phone number. We can talk about the different things you can try to narrow down that problem with the Triumph. Or maybe you can talk your brother into selling his share in the business to someone else."

They were looking at more than each other's eyes when he said that. Then Angel smiled and saved Bucky's phone number to her contacts. They began to walk away from each other then both turned to look back at the same moment, making them chuckle. With a wave, Bucky headed towards the subway station, feeling pretty positive about his prospects.

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One Shots Masterlist

[tazumii]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 🥂🥡 . sky high

﹙sky high﹚🥂🥡 soukoku — bungou stray dogs. ⟶ current canon ; fluff. ☆ ; mentions drugs.

WC: 884

― "okay, let's get you another glass of water," dazai said with a soft chuckle, hopping up and sitting on the edge of the counter next to his partner with a half-filled glass in his hand. his partner, chuya, had been mindlessly giggling and flirting with dazai all evening, after the latter had found half-smoked drugs on the floor near the counter.

the smaller man looked up at dazai as he sat next to him, his pupils dilated and his eyes sparkling as he laughed.

"but i don't want water," he slurred. "water's gross.."

without giving dazai any warning, he flopped into his lap, his head resting against his thighs. he gazed up at the taller man, his hair falling around him and framing his sickly-looking face.

"i know it's gross," dazai chuckled, playing along with the drugged man. "but unless you want to crash and feel the effects worse than you will, you need to drink. come on."

chuya raised a hand up, holding dazai's cheek and rubbing his thumb against his skin.

"you're so pretty.." he murmured. "you're, like.. gorgeous.. like a god."

dazai's face warmed slightly as a faint blush formed on his cheeks, and he exhaled a laugh.

"why, thank you," the brunette replied. "you're quite handsome yourself."

chuya gave an open smile, his dilated pupils widening slightly.

"oh my god.. we should get married," he suddenly declared, sitting up in dazai's lap and looking at him seriously. "you wanna get married? let's get married!"

"woah, woah, slow down there, sweetheart," dazai laughed, holding chuya's face in his hands. "we can't just get married like that."

"yes we can! let's get married!" chuya exclaimed, wriggling out of dazai's hold and flopping onto the floor. he scrambled to his feet, desperately searching for something.

"you can't marry me without getting engaged to me first, chuya," dazai called out, laughing.

"then i'm gonna engage ya!" chuya yelled back, fumbling in his pockets before shouting in triumph and holding up a can tab. "gotcha!"

"you really aren't going to propose to me with a can tab, are you?" dazai grinned, unable to hold back his laughter.

"yes, i am!" chuya huffed, clumsily climbing back onto the counter and sitting on his knees in front of dazai. "and it's a ring, not a can tab!"

"it's a can tab, darling," dazai chuckled.

"no it's not!" chuya insisted. "samu, my boyfie, will you engage me?"

dazai laughed at the struggled wording and the slurred speech, running a hand through chuya's messy ginger locks.

"yes, i will engage you. but the right term is marry," he said, smiling. "hear that? marry."

"then will you marry me?" chuya asked.

"yes, i will," dazai grinned.

"okay, good," chuya huffed. "now, gimme your hand," the ginger demanded, taking dazai's hand and pulling it towards his face.

the smaller man stuck his tongue out in concentration, narrowing his eyes as he carefully slid the can tab onto dazai's ring finger.

"there!" he exclaimed once he had finished, beaming triumphantly. "now we're married! and we're gonna have a wedding, and cake, and confetti and tuxedos!"

"yes, yes, we are indeed," dazai chuckled, patting chuya's head. inwardly, his boyfriend's demeanor reminded him of an excitable young child; something neither of them really got to be. it was.. endearing, to say the least.

chuya giggled excitedly, moving closer and latching on to dazai's waist.

"my husband," he hummed. "mine."

"yes, i am yours," dazai smiled, rubbing his hand up and down chuya's arm in an affectionate manner. "and i'm your fiancé, chuya, not your husband. not yet."

"fi-what-sé?" chuya murmured, looking back up at dazai with half-open eyes.

"fiancé. in the middle of boyfriend and married," dazai explained with a chuckle. "you get it? fiancé."

"fiancé," chuya repeated slowly. "huh.. that has a nice ring to it."

"it does, doesn't it?" dazai smiled. "you're my fiancé."

"well, you're my fiancé," chuya huffed.

"okay, okay, darling, you win," dazai exhaled a laugh, tucking chuya's hair behind his ear as the smaller man nuzzled against him.

"good. i always win," chuya said quietly.

at the sudden softness of his partner's tone, dazai looked down in concern, his smile turning into a worried frown. he lifted chuya's head in his hands, tilting his chin to get a better view of his face. the ginger's face had grown ghostly pale, his eyes were barely open and he overall looked sick. dazai could only assume the high of the man's drugs were wearing off now, and he would begin to feel the after effects.

"chuya, dear.." he said softly. "are you feeling alright?"

chuya murmured incoherently, shaking his head slightly.

"what's wrong, darling? what feels bad?" dazai asked, wrapping his arms around the other's waist and pulling him into his lap.

chuya just made a soft noise, collapsing against dazai's chest and passing out cold. at first dazai felt a jolt of panic through his body, but at the realization that chuya was just resting from exhaustion, he exhaled a breath of relief and just held him close. he rubbed gentle circles on the ginger's back, his other hand loosely around his waist to hold him in place. he rested his chin on the smaller man's head, resting his eyes and letting his own eyelids fall shut for a moment.

chuya was coming down now, but it wasn't all bad when he was sky high. at least for dazai, anyway.

copyright tazumii 2024. do not repost or plagiarize!

[patternedlantern]

Ok so a post to talk about these gifs I reblogged recently, since Rachael @thosewickedlovelies wanted to know how they fit into Take (Me) Out (😘💕) and I am not one to pass up an opportunity to ramble about this universe 🩵

It took me a minute to pin down why this post made me think about Restaurant Girl, aka April (yay she has a name/nickname now!). But I think the important thing here is that she is very protective of the people she cares about, especially her family.*

So if, let’s say, while closing up the restaurant for the night, her sister vents about a particularly rude customer or nasty Yelp review? Oh it’s knife time 🔪🔪🔪

Is she actually serious about using it? Well, probably no. But girl’s got a weird sense of humor (that little smile at the end is important). Skews kinda dark, kinda dry. And it’s not like knives are hard to come by in a kitchen. She probably does this often enough that her family is just like

Alternatively - I saw a post the other day that I can’t find rn, but it was basically about how someone attempted to rob a restaurant only to be met with the kitchen staff casually wielding knives and other kitchen-based weaponry. I could see that happening with them too.

* “family” also eventually includes Tim, of course 😌

[kiemiu]

things matt does that makes you question your friendship | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. unestablished relationship headcanons wc 618 (library) + (request)

best friend!matt who's so attentive to your needs. he's always checking in on you, especially when you're out together. he'll rest his hand on your back before leaning towards your ear to whisper and ask how you're doing. during dinners with friends he'll look over at you and raise his eyebrows in question, waiting for your signal. if you're ever uncomfortable, he has no qualms about gathering all of his things and dragging you away from the chaos. your comfort is always above everything.

best friend!matt who adds love songs to your shared playlist. you both update your joint playlist pretty frequently, sometimes even sending the songs to each other beforehand. matt often will send a song with an attached message like 'this song reminds me of you' or 'i think you'll like this, just added it to our playlist'. you didn't notice it at first but once you started looking at the lyrics of the songs, they always mentioned love, infatuation, unrequited love, and more romantic topics.

best friend!matt who created a nickname for you that only he can use. he gets incredibly upset when someone uses the nickname he gave you, and even more upset if you let them. he made it up and reserved it specifically for you while making it known that you're the only person who has that privilege over him. he'll be giddy if you create your own special nickname for him, and will ignore anyone who addresses him by it if it's not you.

best friend!matt who doesn't correct people when they think you're dating. it's happened plenty of times, the way the two of you cuddle up to each other in public and have animated conversation that only the both of you can hear, anyone with eyes would think the two of you were dating. and whenever someone assumes, before you can interject to deny their claims, matt quickly throws out a 'thank you' with a smile before pulling you away and avoiding your question of why you didn't correct them.

best friend!matt who unknowingly seeks out your approval. after he makes a joke you're the first person he looks at, just waiting to see your smile and hear the familiar sound of your laughter. it always gave him a sense of pride when you paid attention and recognized him, even if it was for something as small as laughing at his crappy jokes.

best friend!matt who takes candid photos of you. it's always when you least expect it, building a lego set in the tranquility of his bedroom and you'll randomly see a flash out of the corner of your eye. at first you used to poke at him about it and beg for him to delete it, but it happens so often now that you can only grow a flustered smile, wondering just why he takes so many pictures of you. not realizing he has a photo album dedicated to just you with a matching wallpaper to prove it.

best friend!matt who can't get you of his head. he's surrounded by you, your face on his homescreen, the last hoodie of his you wore resting on the back of his chair, your hair ties on his nightstand, while one of your favorite childhood tv shows play in the background..he sees you in everything he does and everywhere he goes, and he makes it known. always sending you a small update text when he's thinking about you and sometimes a picture of what exactly reminded him of you. 'watching your show, made me think of u :) ❤️'

best friend!matt who is so utterly obsessed and in love with his best friend.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @madifilipowiczslvt @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @chrispleasure

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ ☁️˒ — yoichi isagi masterlist !

˖ ࣪⭑ 🥡⭑ ࣪ ˖ — ONE-SHOTS !

egoist ;pro player!au + one-shot.

teasing isagi is great. in fact, it's all fun and games...until his ego comes out to play. ( mature )

playing defence ;pro player!au + one-shot.

you bitch slap kaiser for talking smack about your boyfriend. perhaps isagi is rubbing off on you. ( fluff )

earbuds, my love ;friends to lovers!au, pro player!au + one-shot.

a single train ride has you sharing your headphones and your feelings with your long time crush, yoichi isagi. ( fluff )

lost in the lights, outta my mind ;pro player!au + one-shot.

rin itoshi has a bad habit of dishing out what he can't take and a locker room fight with his rival, yoichi isagi, leaves him in the most vulnerable place he'll ever be in. all because of his little unrequited crush on you. ( mature )

close as strangers ;pro player!au + one-shot.

while at a bar with your sister, a stranger comes to your rescue and he’s not afraid to come to your defence. ( fluff )

˖ ࣪⭑ 🥡⭑ ࣪ ˖ — MULTI-CHAPTERS !

-> coming soon !

˖ ࣪⭑ 🥡⭑ ࣪ ˖ — HEADCANONS !

-> coming soon !

˖ ࣪⭑ 🥡⭑ ࣪ ˖ — DRABBLES !

wanna make you ;drabble ( smut )

cocky ;drabble ( smut )

good guy ;drabble ( smut )

vacation ;drabble ( smut )

meet the parents ;drabble ( fluff )

vampire!isagi (2) (3) ;drabble ( smut )

physical touch ;drabble ( fluff )

ride it ;drabble ( smut )

lap dance ;drabble ( smut )

hubby ;drabble ( fluff )

— all rights reserved © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-2023. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.

[astoldbychae]

how many emojis can I send for Miss Monet and Mr Handsome over there? because I’m tryna be all in they business. But for now I’ma send 🩶 . 🥡. & 🧸

As many as you'd wanna know 😁 Also, The 1st emoji for some reason doesn't show up, so I'm not sure which question that was. You can ask that one again, if you'd like to.

🥡 What does a relaxing night in look like for them?

Mel is very romantic (and physical touch is definitely his love language), so He really enjoys a nice, relaxing candlelit bath with her (glass of wine is optional). Especially since He does work a lot, this is something that he looks forward to after a long week. Afterwards they end up watching a movie (that He always ends up falling asleep on because She always ends up rubbing his ears. Yes! his big ass loves to be the little spoon don't tell him I told you.) 🥺

Now that baby girl is born she sometimes throws a wrench in their relaxing night time because if she wakes up, the ONLY way she'd fall back to sleep is if she's on his chest. So now that she's learning to sleep through the night, they can ease back into their little routine.

🧸BONUS! Include one of your favorite moments between them!

It'll have to be when they first met each other again, after Mel's divorce. He was staying in Jasmine Suites because He just needed to sign a lease ASAP. It was a small, crappy apartment but He made it feel like home. Monet's older brother Mekhi is one of Melo's best friends since high school (so they know his ex-wife because they all went to high school together). Monet was staying at her brother's house until she could find her own place (she had accepted a writing job in the city). It was the beginning of Summer and Mekhi was throwing a party and Melo showed up. He hadn't seen Monet in YEARS (She's like 5 years younger than her brother & Melo). During that whole party they were damn near inseparable (playing Uno, beer pong, dancing etc). She ended up flirting with him before the party was over and that's how they got their little pink bar started. Melo's mood/whims would be all over the place because he was still in his mood about the divorce but would randomly be thinking about Monet. On top of that, she would call & invite him out often (I personally think that was her way of shooting her shot but also just trying to keep him in good spirits...and that was the cutest thing to me because He would be so happy/energetic/inspired whenever He would spend time with her). It's also cute that She's hot headed and he will literally go over and just kiss her and she'll calm TF down. LMAO

BONUS: Now that the baby is here, it's always funny to see them literally race to take care of the baby then give eachother their little smirky-look as if it were a competition. LMAO

[madelynraemunson]

HEY MADDY, WHAT’S ON TV? 📺

𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 (…𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬)

part 2/2

🥡 steddie!body swap x freaky friday fanfic • RATED: NC-17 🥡

part one here.

SUMMARY: Dustin’s science experiment goes horribly wrong and his two ‘bickering besties’ have to suffer the consequences.

WORD COUNT: 6.9k words

CONTENTS CONTAIN: (EASTER) EGGS, WHEAT, METAL, PARALLELISMS, A PINCH OF COMEDY, ANGST, AND LOTS OF SWEARING

ALLERGENS: CHEESY, CORN(Y), SHELLFISH (sorry eddie)

🥠

Eddie makes himself dinner again tonight.

It's nothing new; it’s been this way since he was a kid. But the loneliness at Steve’s is almost suffocating, despite the vastness of the house, the extravagant amount of silverware in the drawers reserved for a grand party of three… and hell, even with Todd Harrington being in the same room…breathing the same air as him right now.

“Hello, Steven.”

“Hi, Dad,” Eddie replies.

 It almost feels apocalyptic. 

There wasn’t much in Harrington’s notes about his parents, other than they were hardly ever home and basically let Steve do whatever he wanted. And to an extent Eddie thought Steve was exaggerating, but given that this was the second time this week he’s seen Steve’s parents — after being in his body for nearly five days — he realizes Steve was telling nothing but the truth. 

“How was work today?” Steve’s dad inquires.

Eddie does a double take, glancing at the fridge with Steve’s work schedule on it plastered in bright colors. It’s very hard to miss.

“…Today was my day off,” Eddie replies, baffled that Steve’s dad was too spatially unaware to look that way. “Did you uh…did you eat yet?”

“I did. Did you?”

“No, I was thinking about what to make actually,” Eddie mumbles. “I guess Spaghettios will do. Again.”

Eddie always thought Steve ate dinner with his parents, had conversations about his day, and shared laughs and stories. It’s jarring now to be in his shoes, where the silence is almost deafening.

“Yeah, we do need more groceries,” Steve’s dad agrees with an absent-minded yawn. “It’s a bummer you were off today. I was going to have you fetch your mom and I a tub of that Neapolitan. Didn’t realize we were out.”

Neapolitan? Eddie’s ears quirk at the mention. Isn’t that…?

“Ice cream? Why would I have ice cream at work, Dad?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Don’t you work at Scoops?”

“I work at Family Video.”

“Since when?”

 “Since THREE YEARS AGO... You didn’t know that?”

“I’m not a psychic, Steven.”

Eddie’s eyes pan back to the fridge, again,  the only thing on it being a sheet of paper that reads, FAMILY VIDEO SCHEDULE STEVE H. The stark reality of the situation hits him hard.

“Anyways, kinda odd you’re home tonight,” Todd continues. “You usually never are. Shouldn’t you be with Nancy?”

NANCY?!

“Nancy?! Nancy and S–” Eddie pauses. “Nancy and I broke up FIVE years ago, Dad. …Don’t you remember?”

“I may have remembered you saying something about that…”

Oh he’s being absolutely insufferable! Steve and Nancy’s breakup was the talk of the town, and probably even the hot topic at the Loch Nora Moms Book Club meeting. How could Todd Harrington not even notice that Nancy wasn’t around for five years?! 

At his wit’s end now, Eddie starts towards the hall. “I’m out.”

“Where are you going?” Steve’s dad demands, his tone sharp enough to slice through the thick tension in the air.

Eddie feels a surge of defiance bubble up. “I need some fresh air,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not that you’d notice if I disappeared for a while.”

Eddie doesn’t know where he’s going yet. He just needs to get the hell away from here. Meanwhile, Steve’s dad is trying to figure out what he’s done to make his son so upset. He can’t think of anything he could’ve possibly said to elicit this reaction.

“Hey! Tone, you heard of it?” his eyes flicker over to Eddie. “What’s going on, son? You’re not acting like yourself.”

Eddie tuts. “Yeah, like you’ve been around to know what that’s like?”

Maybe he could go to the arcade. Or Starcourt. Hell, maybe he’ll loiter around Camp Knowhere, or a convenience store that sells Farrah Fawcett spray (The humidity was making his hair so hard to deal with! Eddie just wanted it UP and OUT OF HIS WAY). 

Eddie just wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but the hellscape that is Steve’s house.

“WHERE are you going?” Steve’s dad demands again.

“Knowhere, I guess.”

“Nowhere? Well you’ve gotta be heading somewhere.”

Annoyed – and too exhausted to explain – Eddie sighs.

“You know what, fine. Stay ominous about it,” Todd mutters. “You know what, Steve, you are never home.”

“Oh yeah? Well if I was home, would that have made a difference?!”

Taken aback, Todd Harrington’s eyes widen, shocked by his son’s sudden outburst. This isn’t the calm, polished Steve he knows. If this is how his son really is, what else has he been up to? Quite possibly no good.

“You know,” Todd clears his throat. “You are never home anymore.”

Eddie whips back around, enraged at the audacity.

“What’s the point of staying home if I’m going to be ignored?!” he yells. “If I’m going to eat dinner alone? If the only time I’m home you guys want something from me?! If I’m going to be stuck wondering when my parents are going to walk through that door?”

It’s like Eddie was talking to his own father while yelling at Steve’s. He’s had an eerily identical encounter with Al before. It just wasn’t expected or heard of. A guy with rich parents who weren’t…present in his life? His mind couldn’t wrap around it. Until it had to. 

“I see you all the time, kid.”

“But do you know me…DAD?” Eddie cries. “Do you really know me?”

“I was at the hospital when you were born, of course I know you, son.”

Does this dude even know who Dustin is?

“Oh yeah? What’s my best friend’s name?”

“Tommy.”

“What sport did I do in high school?”

“Volleyball.”

The third and final test. 

“What am I allergic to?”

But Steve’s dad clicks his tongue in annoyance. “What do I look like, a doctor?”

Eddie swallows hard. Wayne would’ve answered all those questions—and correctly—in a heartbeat. 

“I’m out,” Eddie says again.

Holding back the remainder of his tears, Eddie starts towards the door, any last bit of his appetite he had left completely down the drain now. 

“It was a genuine question, Steven,” Todd Harrington calls after Eddie. “I said, do I look like a doctor to you?”

“You sure as hell don’t look like a father, I can tell you that much,” Eddie mutters.

Steve could argue that Nancy Wheeler was his biggest heartbreak, but as Eddie inhabits his life, he begs to differ.

The real heartbreak lies in being surrounded by everything a young man could ever want: parents, a big house, a large inheritance, hell, even a nice body—and still feeling profoundly lonely and unloved. In terms of a family and sense of belonging… Eddie’s richer than Steve. And had they not switched bodies, he would’ve never guessed. 

Poor Harrington. Eddie had no idea.

“Master of puppets are pulling your strings… twisting your mind and smashing your dreams”

This is Steve’s last resort.

He figured if he listened to the same music Eddie did, acted like Eddie, and believed himself to be Eddie, the guitar solo for Take Me Away would just come to him naturally. After all, nothing is impossible. And delusion has gotten enough people pretty damn far. 

Harrington reaches into his back pocket, acquiring the fortune that got them in this situation in the first place, hoping that maybe there were more messages in between the lines.

“A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another’s eyes. When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back.”

“…in bed,” Steve jokes.

Look at him. This Eddie stuff’s easy.

Suddenly, an airy, delicate, seductive voice belonging to a young woman shifts Steve's attention.

“Eddie?”

Steve’s eyes nearly bulge out of his face. 

Standing in front of him with her hair neatly kept in a high ponytail, body embraced by a nice blouse and an even nicer skirt, and frilly socks that poked out of her sneakers is a woman he didn’t expect to see. 

The Queen of Hawkins herself. The woman of Steve’s dreams.

“NANCY!” he exclaims.

CRASH! Books fall out of the cart that rested besides Steve and onto the floor. He’s inherited Eddie’s clumsiness too it seems. Shocked, Nancy rushes to his aid, picking up books that fell more towards her side.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Steve frowns. “Thanks…”

“I uh, like your haircut,” Nancy smiles. “Also, I didn't think you’d work at the library.”

“Well it’s the only place that would hire me,” Steve chuckles. “…literally. Uh, my haircut? Thanks. You really like it?”

“Yeah! It’s nice!" Nancy nods. "It’s new. I’m so used to your long hair.”

“Yeah back when I looked like an electrocuted ferret,” Steve grumbles.

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” Steve says. “A-are you looking for anything?”

“Just browsing for some poetry that’s all.”

"I see," Steve nods. "W-well if you need anything, let me know."

Nancy watches as Steve, or Eddie in her eyes rather,  walks back to the counter, acquiring the newly returned books to stamp for the next round of check-outs. He then loads them into the book cart, getting ready to return them to their respective aisles. All with a sulking demeanor that he’s too aloof to notice on himself. 

“Are you okay?” Nancy inquires. “You look kinda down.”

Steve hesitates.

“I…” he says. “I really let someone down recently. Multiple people, actually. And I have no idea what to do.”

"I know how that feels,” she empathizes with him.

Nancy heads towards him.

“I was given a solution on how to make it right I just…” he shakes his head. “...don’t know how.”

“Well, the fact that you want to make it right is already the first step.”

Nancy motions for Steve to follow her, to which he does so immediately. She leads him to the poetry section of the library, specifically towards the authors with the last name starting with ‘D’. Shuffling through volumes of books, Nancy finally settles on one and takes it out.

“There’s a poem about selflessness that I really love,” she explains. “And if I’m correct, it’s in this lil book right here.”

Steve watches as Nancy flips through the pages in concentration. 

She is still so pretty. Despite living in the same hometown, Steve hasn’t seen Nancy in a couple years. But she is still quite beautiful, and the same in her mannerisms and quirks, but just now older and wiser. Nancy clears her throat before reading the poem out loud.

“If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.”

The two meet eyes.

“Emily Dickinson,” Nancy cites the poem. “Redemption is selfless. It's a sacrifice. But life becomes more worthwhile when you live to help others. If mending this brokenness is really what you seek, you have to see what matters most to the other person, and make sure there’s a way to meet in the middle. That’s the best way to help in any case.”

Nancy drifts off into a sorrowful, reflective trance. 

“I should know.”

They were both wrong, Steve and Nancy. They broke up over dumb shit that teenagers broke up over, both too stubborn for their own good to see the other person’s perspective. Steve never got a chance to redeem himself. Jonathan stole Nancy’s heart back then before he could.

But Steve never stopped loving Nancy. And now that it’s being revisited when they’re much older, it’s discovered that Nancy never stopped loving Steve either.

“You’re beautiful, Nancy Wheeler,” Steve says, peering into her eyes.

Perplexed, Nancy looks at her friend with furrowed brows. Encouraging space between the two, she places her hands on Steve’s shoulders, before moving off to the side.

“Thanks, Eddie.”

2 DAYS LATER… 💀

SHOW AND TELL DAY

“I made a promise to keep you shitheads safe and that’s exactly what I’m doing!”

You’d think it’d stop at the raccoons. But to Eddie’s surprise, the shenanigans of Camp Nowhere are far from over. 

Today’s activity is centered around “aerodynamics” – which quickly translates to “Rolling Down a Steep Hill in a Dismantled Tire Swing”. 

“The chances of us getting concussions are unlikely,” someone protests. 

“BUT. NEVER. ZERO!” Eddie points out. “Wear a damn helmet, for Christ’s sake!!!”

“Ugh!!!” another kid wails. “You’re being a buzzkill, AGAIN, Steve! We miss the Relaxed Steve who didn’t give a shit.”

“Well, that’s too bad!” Eddie’s quick to match the energy. “It’s when Steve STOPS giving a shit that you should be scared. STEVE has set rules for a reason. And the reason is that STEVE doesn’t want you guys getting hurt.”

An injured kid would likely mean a trip to the hospital. Which means calling home. Which then means mountains of bills and a potential lawsuit which could lead to the shutting down of Camp Knowhere forever. And if Eddie wanted to leave his mark on the world, he would want it to be because he shaped young minds. Not eviscerated them.

Eddie sighs before speaking again. He had no clue about what really goes into all of this.

“Why is Steve talking about himself in the third person?” a kid questions.

Eddie quickly realizes that he in fact was talking about ‘himself’ in third person, to which he quickly deflects by saying,

“Because you dingbats stress me out. Put a helmet on or it’s no tire swing.”

———

“You look absolutely ridiculous.”

“What do you mean? I’m just channeling my inner Eddie.” 

It was like watching Eddie cosplay as himself. As a nervous Robin drives towards Discount Stereo in Eddie’s van, Family Video’s sister music shop, she can’t help but get annoyed with Harrington’s forced headbanging and unnecessary drumming-on-the-dash. 

And making her drive without a license too? It was way too anarchic for Steve. It’s like she was actually with Eddie instead. 

“What exactly are we looking for anyways?” Robin sighs.

“We need a voice changer of sorts,” Steve brainstorms. “Or at least something to isolate Eddie’s vocals from the original track so I can perform for him.”

The further and further they were away from camp, the more desperate Steve got. 

But Steve isn’t giving up hope. And if he has to play What Would Eddie Do? to get Eddie the dream contract he had been wishing for, he’s going to do exactly that.

“Master of puppets are pulling your strings… twisting your mind and smashing your dreams…”

Just then an epiphany reaches him. 

“Puppet…” Steve whispers to himself. “…strings.”

How could he have overlooked this? The answer was so clear, so evident, right there all along. And in that moment, Steve had reevaluated all his previous judgments of Mr. Clarke. The man is a modern-day genius.

Steve turns to Robin.

“Turn around,” he says. 

“What? I literally just got on the highway and I thought we were going to—”

“TURN. AROUND!”

SKRRRTTTTTTTT!

———

“Okay, turn around,” Gareth cautions. “But don’t make it obvious.”

Eddie’s neck immediately snaps towards the respective direction. Gareth gets a good eye-roll in before backhanding him across the chest.

“Way to be subtle,” he spews. “But that’s him. That’s the guy from Cardinal Records.”

The "dad" sunglasses. The Old Money Laugh. Initially unassuming, Eddie has no doubt that the man behind him is the off-duty talent scout. Because while he didn’t stand out at first, his confident demeanor and unbranded athleisure reeked of ‘subtle wealth’, his attentiveness to the stage screaming, ‘I’ll have my people call your people’.

“We should introduce ourselves before going up there,” Gareth suggests. “That way we start off on the right foot.”

“Noooo sir,” Eddie sings, shying away from the idea completely. “Not when I’m not myself.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll scavenge a wig and sunnies for you!” Jeff brainstorms. “He won’t even notice you took the form of some temperamental, big-haired frat diva!”

“It’s hopeless, guys,” Eddie refuses. “I say we just appoint the next band. Give someone else a shot while it’s in their reach.” 

“But Eddie, THAT’S US!” Grant frowns. “We’ve dreamt of this, man. This is our only shot. You said it yourself, you practiced your solo for nearly two months!”

“So let this be a lesson learned,” Munson mutters. “That just because you work hard, it doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed success. I’m sorry guys, but it’s not happening.”

But “Eddie!” he hears himself scream. “EDDIE, EDDIE, EDDIE!”

Steve dashes towards him, ignoring the people staring at him like he’s some lunatic yelling his own name. Harrington’s feet are thinking too fast for his brain, judging by the way Eddie has to extend his arms forward to protect the two from ramming right into each other… again.

“Eddie,” Steve pants one last time. “God…your cardio sucks. You haven’t… gone on yet…have you?”

“No, and I don’t intend to. Show’s off. We gotta find the next act.”

Steve stops him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Harrington begins. “Well, listening to music, more like. You know that one song by Metallica? The puppet show one?”

“Master of Puppets?” Eddie corrects him, baffled. “It’s not about a puppet show you ignorant f–”

“I know that,” Steve stops him. “...now. Point is, the word ‘puppet’ kinda had me thinking. What if you played your guitar solo backstage and I just pretend that it’s me doing it? I know the lyrics of the song, I just don’t know how to play guitar.”

“You know the lyrics to our song?” Jeff’s eyes twinkle with joy. Not that it was too big of a deal. But a ‘normie’ knowing the lyrics to one of Corroded Coffin’s songs is flattering in a sense. 

“Yeah, after hearing it for a week straight,” Steve shrugs. “So, what do you say, Munson? Let’s get you guys that record deal, huh?”

Eddie lets the idea marinate for a while. Harrington’s onto something. 

“So you suggest that I – quite literally – pull the strings behind the curtain…” Eddie nods along. “While you go out there and perform as me since you’re in my body? Pulling a Singing in the Rain essentially?”

“A what?”

But the theater kids sighs. “Nevermind. I’m uh, yeah! I’m up for it. If you are.”

Steve extends a hand to Eddie. With his stomach doing somersaults now, Eddie extends his hand to Steve, shaking it firmly, the mutual agreement eliciting a smile amongst the two former rivals. 

“It’s now or never, baby. Let’s break some legs.”

Eddie shoots him a sour look. Steve’s trying. He’ll give him that much.

“Sure. I’ll take it!” Eddie chuckles. He quickly turns around. “Hey! Henderson!”

Dustin gives him a single nod.

“How long does it take for you to make a sign?” Eddie inquires. “Multiple, actually?”

“Depends,” Dustin shrugs. “What do you want them to say?”

Eddie smirks.

———

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. ...Again.”

Eddie takes a quick moment to admire his guitar, the red and black Rich NJ Warlock that he had spent two-and-a-half of his paychecks on, glistening atop the wall, held upright by a matte black holster. His eyes then trail over to the standard Reverend beside it, the one he’s going to be using while Steve goes out there with his precious baby.

“Okay, so when you guys get on stage, Gareth will start the count,” Eddie instructs, looking at Steve now. “When he counts to four, that’s when you start the song.”

“Wait, four?” Steve’s only been used to three. “Do I start right when he says four or after the fact?”

“At four. Starting after four would make it a five count.”

“ButifIstartatfour, howcanIbesurehedidn’tmeanthree and I’m off a couple counts?! Usually the count is three, I wanna make sure the count is actually four.”

“The count is four and you start AT FOUR!” Eddie hisses. “I was in band and theater and I’m in a band, I should know.”

The two quickly stop their argument to don their respective guitars. After another firm handshake, Steve sets off with the band, nervous but determined to give the performance his all.

“Don’t fuck up, Harrington,” Eddie shakily mutters as Steve walks away. “I’m countin’ on you.”

“Uh, Steve?” Nancy questions. Eddie spins around. “What are you doing with Eddie’s guitar?”

How’d Nancy get backstage? And why is she here? Eddie’s brain is riddled with a ton of questions, but nonetheless, all he does is smile. 

“Don’t worry about it, Wheeler.”

Wheeler? Now Nancy really thinks Steve hit his head.

“I’m gonna worry!” she insists.

“‘Scuse me, ‘scuse me, pardon me,” Dustin utters as he squeezes his way to the front of the Show and Tell audience. “Tour manager here! I need access to the barricade!”

And he’s the best damn tour manager Hawkins has ever seen. Tucked underneath Dustin’s trusty armpit are a stack of poster-sized notecards with lyrics for Steve to read. Steve spots him in the crowd almost immediately and his eyes light up in relief. The two exchange confident thumbs up before the audience is lowered to a hush by the bright yellow stage lights and the fading stereo music.

“Uh… hi everyone!” Steve mumbles. “I’m Eddie Munson, and this is my band Corroded Coffin.”

Aggressive ringing shrouds people’s ears. Wincing himself, Steve gulps as he gathers what is left of his courage. 

“A-are you ready to be blown away?” Steve questions the crowd. “Taken away, I should say. Haha.”

Crickets. There’s a hesitancy with the enthusiasm, but the crowd still remains supportive. 

“C’mon…” Eddie whispers, impatiently and nervously tapping his feet.

Clearing his throat out of habit, Steve starts to speak again.

“Uh, this song is about never wanting to grow up. Refusing to conform to society’s expectations. The harsh realities of young adulthood.”

“Okay, we’re off to a good start…” Eddie comments.

“You know, I’ve done a lot of reflecting this summer,” Steve admits, the spotlight theatrically closing in on him. “Before this summer, I used to be uptight and a little bitter about everything and the way things were headed. But in the mess of it all, I learned to have a little bit of fun. To let my hair down, literally and metaphorically. And the fact that it all—“

“JUST START THE SONG!” Eddie interrupts from backstage.

Negative feedback rings through the stadium once more as Steve turns his head. I deserved that, he thinks. Without further adieu, Gareth starts them off, clashing his drumsticks together to set the tempo.

“ONE. TWO. ONE.TWO.THREE.FOUR.”

So it was after four.

“YEAAAAAH!” Steve croaks mightily into the microphone. “YEAAAAAAH!”

The band is already off to a good start. Even Eddie is stunned. The guitarist watches in joy – and almost with pride – as Steve pretends to know what he’s doing, ‘strumming’ along with Eddie’s band and banging his head around like an untamed maniac. It almost looks natural when he does it. Almost as if he had rehearsed this over and over.

When he senses the cue, Dustin holds his poster up.

“Get up, get out. Move on, move on there’s no doubt. I’m all wrong. You’re right. It’s all the same to you.”

“Get up, get out. Move on, move on there’s no doubt. I’M ALL WRONG. YOU’RE RIGHT. IT’S ALL THE SAME TO YOU!”

‘Eddie’s stage presence seemingly grabs the attention of the producer from Cardinal Records. Off to the side, Dustin’s friend’s friend’s dad remains leaned against a railing, his sharp eyes fixed on the band with a mix of fascination and calculation.

“I’m too thin. Too fat. You ask why. So why? So why? So why? So why?”

The scout's fingers drum against his thigh, fascinated by the song and the enthusiastic, young audience it catered to. He watches ‘Eddie’ and his provocative thrusts, the band and their one-ness with each other and their respective instruments, and the different groups of respectful mosh pits that have started since the band started performing. It’s a refreshing sight to see. Angst. Challenging the status quo. Young adults coming together to enjoy the music while being unapologetically themselves. Sex appeal.

The 90s have arrived; and Corroded Coffin is just what Cardinal Records needs.

 “On and on and on and on. On and on and on and on! Don’t wanna grow up, I wanna get out. Hey! Take me away.”

Nodding his head to the song now, the man reaches into his pocket to acquire his business Motorola.

“Curtis,” the man says after a few rings. “Clear my schedule for the next week and a half. I’ve got some meetings to set up immediately.”

“I wanna shout out, take me away, away, away, away, away!”

“Round and round here we go again,” Steve sings, causing the crowd to roar and chant Eddie’s name. “Same old start, same old ends.”

“I don’t care if it was set in stone, I need you to clear them immediately,” the scout hisses. His eyes remain fixated on Corroded Coffin,  “I just found our golden ticket.”

“Turn my head, I turn back again. Same old stuff, never ends.”

“Turn my head, I turn back again. Same old SHIT, never ends.”

And the audience ERUPTS once more. Shocked and ecstatic about the lyric change, Dustin bangs his head in excitement, throwing up two rock-and-roll signs while his notecards fall to the ground.

“He said the S word!” Suzie shrieks. “In front of a bunch of kids? He’s insane.”

He’s awesome, Eddie thinks, grateful at the fact that Steve had a change of heart when it came to the lyrics. 

“Take me away, away, away, AWAY!”

And as planned, Eddie’s guitar solo that he had rehearsed for six weeks sounds through the amphitheater of excited, inspired teenagers. 

Steve’s head bangs rhythmically with the beat, his eyes closed in a moment of pure  bliss. His long hair whips around his face, drenched with sweat that sparkles underneath the stage lights. 

I feel so fucking metal, he thinks to himself.

Eddie mirrors Steve from behind the curtain, ravaging his guitar, allowing his heart to pour from his fingers with a fiery, trance-inducing passion. And with a final, triumphant chord, Eddie thrusts his guitar skywards from behind the stage, his tongue poking out of his mouth from excitement, and the crowd erupts in an ear-splitting ovation, hands clapping, feet stomping, and voices roaring in a collective, euphoric frenzy.

Nancy stares in bewilderment at the sight in front of her. Robin takes notice and finds a cover explanation immediately.

“He’s been hanging around Eddie a LOT,” she says.

———

“MOST. METAL. EVER!”

Steve, Eddie, Dustin, and the rest of Corroded Coffin congregate in a circle, over the moon by the fact that the plan had actually worked out. Like a colony of black rabbits in a carrot field, the group hops around in a state of impermeable bliss, soaking in all the emotions that came with the idea of the beginning of their dreams coming true.

“Most metal, indeed.”

An unfamiliar voice cuts through their celebration, causing them to pause. Steve feels a nudge at his ribcage, placed excitedly there by Eddie. A turn in that direction and everyone grows quiet, unsure whether or not to speak or bow to the mogul in front of them. 

“So this is Corroded Coffin, huh? I’m Gary Feldman, a talent scout for Cardinal Records.”

Eddie shoves Steve forward.

“Th-that’s us!” Steve stammers. “It’s great to meet you, sir. I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson. These are my buddies… Gareth on drums, Jeff on bass, Grant on guitar and keyboard. And these are my other best friends, Dustin, and Steve.”

“Cardinal Records?” Eddie – as Steve – asks, feigning innocence with a hint of mischief. “What’s Cardinal Records?”

Steve catches on quickly, then channels his inner Eddie. 

“Only the most METAL record label in the history of record labels! They’ve produced everyone who’s anyone—probably your favorite artist and your favorite artist’s favorite artist!”

Eddie smiles at Steve’s ability to be such an accurate historian, whether or not it was done on a whim. Meanwhile, Feldman chuckles, clearly flattered at the fact that Steve, or ‘Eddie’, was practically kissing his feet, saying all the right things to get him on his good side.

“The media training is strong with this one.”

Just then, Steve’s confidence wavers. Scared that he ruined their shot, he gulps.

“I wasn’t thinking that, I swear.”

But Feldman laughs heartily, easing the tension.

“I’m just messing with ya, kid,” the talent scout grins. “I like your band, I really do. You guys have a sound I haven’t heard before. And the energy you bring to the crowd is something I haven’t seen in a long time.” 

“Y-you’re serious?!” Eddie can’t help but exclaim. “You… really think my friends are that talented?”

“I don’t just think, I know,” Feldman insists, looking back at ‘Steve’. “I believe you guys have the IT factor we’ve been looking for but have been unable to find. I would like to have Corroded Coffin on board, if you are willing.”

Eddie beams in awe as he watches the interaction take place. Never did he think he would get his foot through the door thanks to Steve Harrington’s rockstar skills. And it seems like all the other guys shared that very sentiment. 

“Here is my card, perhaps we can set up a meeting.”

The card is sleek when Steve takes it in his hand. It’s a glossy jet black color, heavy, and feels very, VERY important. Struggling to find the correct words, the boys nod profusely, smiling ear to ear while taking turns shaking Gary Feldman’s star-and-jewelry-studded hand. And when the recruiter disappears from sight, Eddie is quick to snatch the card out of Steve’s grip.

“Holy shit, we got our foot in the door!” he cheers, high-fiving all of the boys in celebration.

Steve peers over at Eddie with a proud smile. 

“Congratulations, man. I knew that this would be possible.”

Eddie offers him a grateful smile in return. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Harrington.”

Eddie and Steve share a hug. Dustin stares as they do so, palms clasped together like a relieved parent witnessing a rare bonding moment between her children. Although it was a messy process, the mission of his fortune cookie worked. Steve and Eddie finally get along.

Suddenly, Eddie feels the grasp of two gruff palms below his hips.

“Uh, Steve,” Eddie clears his throat. “Can you please get your hand off my butt?”

But Harrington only laughs. “You mean my butt?”

———

“This is so not cool, man,” Argyle grumbles. “SO NOT COOL!”

Wading through a sea of glass beakers and soggy clothes, the gang proceeds to help Dustin clean out his side of the cabin… one last time before saying goodbye to Knowhere forever.

“I agree, why did you have to pack so much?!” Will questions. “You were only gone for six weeks.”

“Hey, I didn’t know what I would need for my last year,” Dustin defends himself. “Also, with my mom gone on her spicy book retreat, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back and get anything.”

“Spicy book retreat?” it piques Argyle’s interest. “Explain.”

“If it’s anything like my mom reads, then you don’t wanna know,” Mike makes a face.

“Says you, sore Paladin. We REAL MEN have a thirst for this type of knowledge. Gotta know how to cater to the ladies, you know what I mean?”

The room fills with disgusted groans. This may be a science camp, but no one had the stomachs to discuss human anatomy at the moment.

Just then, the ground beneath the party rumbles again.

“EARTHQUAKE!” Argyle shrieks, his tone reminiscent of that of a little girl. “FOR REAL THIS TIME!”

“Jesus Chr—” Steve yelps, taking cover underneath a table.

“Here we go again,” Eddie mutters through his gritted teeth.

Everyone takes a form of shelter while the cabin rocks around, Suzie’s influence heavily evident on Dustin as he prays repeatedly for this shit to be over. 

“HOLY SHIT!” Max screams, holding onto some chair legs to stabilize her body.

“WHAT DO WE DO, WHAT DO WE DO, WHAT DO WE DO?!” Lucas cries.

“EVERYBODY, COVER YOUR HEADS!” Dad Eddie yells. “BRACE FOR IMPACT!”

The earthquake makes itself known for a little longer, before fading into complete nothingness. Everyone looks around to see if that was the last of the shaking.  When the coast is finally clear, Argyle is the first to stand up.

“Now that,” he huffs. “Is what you call a California quake. That had to have been a five-point-something.”

When Eddie looks up from his bracing position, he pans his gaze over to Steve. And he’s absolutely elated when the face staring back at him is exactly who it is… Steve.

“Oh my god…” Eddie’s breath hitches. “Harrington.”

“Holy,” Harrington breathes. “Eddie?”

“Did they change back?” Robin mumbles, hands still atop her head as a form of self-regulation.

Everybody’s eyes trail over to Steve and Eddie as they reemerge, watching them palm at each other’s chests in confirmation, laughing delusionally in one another’s faces as they hop around in celebration.

“I don’t…” Steve stammers. “But you… how did we…”

“When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back,” Eddie recalls in his story-telling voice.

The notion really was the key to empathy, it seems: you never know what someone goes through until you live life in their shoes. A bit too literal for both of their likings, but Steve and Eddie evidently got the picture. It just felt great, being back in their own bodies again.

“I’m really sorry for everything I said about you,” Eddie fesses up immediately. “You really are a pretty amazing guy, Harrington. The kids are lucky to have you.”

“And I’m sorry for always refusing to see your side,” Steve says. “My jealousy, bias? and bitterness wouldn’t allow me to do so. Until I lived through it.”

“Hopefully it’s not too late for us to actually be friends.”

“For sure, man,” Eddie grins. I’ll call ya after that record deal meeting.”

The rocker reaches into his pocket to acquire a gift for Steve. His guitar pick that he used during Show and Tell. Upon it being delicately placed in his palms, Steve looks down at it in admiration, encapsulating it with his fingers to ensure its safety.

“Something to remember me for when Coffin makes it big,” Eddie explains.

The two share a smile once again, ecstatic that this fiasco is all over – but also excited to be burying the hatchet they have been harboring for years. It felt like an end of an era, a catalyst for a new beginning.

“Hey!” Argyle exclaims, his mouth just inches away from the fortune cookie in his hand. “Jonathan and I finally got the same fortune.”

Suddenly, concerned energy fills the room.

“NOOO!” everyone yelps running towards Argyle to knock the pastry out from his hand.

———

“Steeeeve Haaaarrington?”

The bright smile on the young woman’s face catches Steve off guard as he turns around. A flutter of nerves wash over him, but he remains fixed, determined to keep his composure as he feeds into the flirtiness.

“It’s Camp Counselor Steve Harrington, actually,”  the former jock winks. 

“Heard you’re the absolute best.”

“I’m alright, I suppose.”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey, Nance.”

It’s been years since Steve and Nancy had a decent conversation. Let alone one where tears weren’t involved. But despite the passage of time, taking in Nancy and all of her beauty still feels brand new to Steve, the mere idea of her making him giddy and bashful, just like the very first time.

“Did you have a good summer?”

“I did,” Steve nods. “And it just got a whole lot better.”

He catches himself immediately.

“Because now Dustin is free, of course,” he babbles.

“Right, right, of course,” Nancy nods along, trying not to blush.

“And we get to hang out again, and he gets to hang out with your brother again…”

“Fun! So fun!” Nancy insists.

“.. and he gets to hang out with Eddie and his band before they go on tour and make it big…”

The two take a moment to sit with the fact. A Hawkins local going to Indy with his band. A retired delinquent, mind you. Yet still the most badass.

“You know…” Nancy speaks again. “I am still kinda curious as to why you’ve been walking around with Eddie Munson’s guitar all night.”

Steve hands her the guitar pick. Confused but intrigued, Nancy takes it from his hand, grazing it with her delicate fingers as Steve closes up the space between them. 

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. Emily Dickinson.”

Suddenly, Nancy appears to realize. Steve’s charm not only transcended time, but now also bodies, it seems. And Nancy knew she recognized those eyes from somewhere.

“Something’s telling me that it wasn’t Eddie that I was talking to in the library…” she speculates.

Steve can only chuckle. “Crazy, right?”

“It’s Hawkins,” Nancy giggles. “Nothing’s crazy to me anymore.”

“Not even me?”

“No, you’re not crazy,” she blushes, biting delicately on her bottom lip. “You’re just an idiot…Steve Harrington.”

“And you’re beautiful, Nancy Wheeler.”

“Uh, gross,” Eddie remarks from a distance.

Eddie nudges Dustin as they watch the two walk off into the sunset. They’ve been eavesdropping and spying this whole time, but Steve and Nancy were too smitten to notice.

“Is it too late to grab a coffee?”

“With you? No never. I heard Newby’s Coffee Roasters is pretty good.” 

“Let’s go.”

The two spies proceed to watch as Nancy and Steve walk away, arm in arm, setting towards Steve’s car to enjoy the rest of their night. 

“How come YOU never take me out for coffee and pastries?” Eddie jokes.

Dustin shrugs, reaching into his pocket to give Eddie an offering. “Here, you want a fortune cookie?”

Having learned his lesson now, Eddie is quick to shut it down.

“Absolutely not.”

EPILOGUE

“I, Sir Eddie Munson, dub THEE,” Eddie announces. “Dustin Randall Henderson, KING of Camp Knowhere.”

The boys chant adorn praises while Steve and Eddie wrap a linen mantle around Dustin’s shoulders. They then issue him a trash grabber to serve as his scepter, along with a dented paper crown from Crispy King to top off the look. Dustin bows at them gracefully.

“Thank you, thank you, my loyal subjects. First order as King — is D&D — with no curfew!”

“D&D, I thought we were watching Alvin and the Chipmunks,” Steve interrupts with a pout.

“Those fruity rodents can wait, Big Boy,” Eddie refuses. “Rise of Kas is tonight. I’ll teach you how to play if you’re game.” 

Steve is about to say something before he stops himself. Hey, why not? After all this time pretending to be Eddie, he never mastered playing a fantasy game.

“I’m in,” Steve humbly shrugs. “Let’s go!”

Everyone cheers before descending towards Mike’s basement, a proud King Dustin watching at the top of the stairs. All his friends are friends. Thanks to his invention. 

“Well don’t you look just ADORABLE?!” Karen Wheeler beams as she makes her way into the living room. “What are you supposed to be?” 

“Dustin Henderson,” he grins proudly, bowing once again. He politely takes Karen’s hand in his and plants playful kisses upon her knuckle. “King of Knowhere, to you, Lady Wheeler.”

“Why am I not surprised?” a cacophonous voice interrupts the beautiful moment.

Off in the corner sits a salty Ted Wheeler, reclined in his stupid LayZ Boy while playing Sudoku like he was last time. And the last time. And the last time. 

Dustin shakes his head. In Ted’s defense, Dustin would hate his life too if every day was the same as the one before. It was just sad. The complete killjoy should have been the last to speak about what Dustin does for fun.

“King of a place called Nowhere,” Ted remarks. “That’s exactly where you’re headed if you don’t start acting your age soon.”

“Oh, you wish you had my child-like whimsy,” Dustin hisses. “Someone’s just upset that they never had a childhood.”

But Mike’s dad fires back. “Someone’s just upset that they can no longer act like a child.”

Curly never understood what Ted Wheeler’s deal was. He’s got a nice house. A smoking hot wife. And three kids who Dustin is blessed enough to call his friends. What more could he possibly ask for? 

“You know what — Theodore?” Dustin demands. “I was going to banish you to my dungeon to embark on a journey towards eternal misery, but it seems like you’re already there, so I shall not issue you better. A true king does not internalize the opinions of common court jesters anyways.”

He chucks Ted a cookie. Hopefully it’ll rid him of his attitude. And replace it with empathy.

“Lucky for you, I don’t discriminate either.” He turns back to Karen and blows her a kiss. “Same time tomorrow?”

Karen rolls her eyes as Dustin starts towards the basement. And just before he joins his loyal subjects for Dungeons and Dragons, the little king stops to read his fortune.

"You are about to embark on a curiosity voyage."

Dustin chuckles to himself.

"...in bed," he adds.

The little king hums happily to himself after popping the cookie into his mouth. There was no way in hell he’s letting Mike’s dad ruin his night. Not anymore.

“Man, I make one mean cookie.”

Meanwhile, ‘Common Court Jester’ Ted Wheeler gives in and goes to eat his fortune cookie as well. A sweet treat every now and then wouldn’t hurt anyways. Oh, the small joys of adult life.

“You know,” Karen speaks up, attempting to lighten the mood. “One of these days you’re going to miss them being this young. Or that you were 17 again, at least.”

“Well it sure isn’t today, I can tell you that much, honey.”

Karen scoffs, evidently accustomed to her husband’s dry humor by now. She then holds up some jell-o that she had made not too long ago.

“Care for some dessert?”

Ted shakes his head, holding up the fortune that came with Dustin’s cookie.

“No, thank you sweetheart, I think I’m set for tonight.”

Ted wipes his mouth as he chews. And, because curiosity got the best of him, he flips the strip of paper over to read his fortune. 

“You are about to embark on a curiosity voyage.”

Ted Wheeler shakes his head and tosses it to the side.

“I’ll say… If there’s one thing I CAN praise Dustin Henderson for, it’s that he makes a great fortune cookie!”

The End 👀🕰️

---

author's note (again): thank you my loves for tuning in and for all your support. want a cookie? 😇🥠

divider credits: @saradika-graphics @silkholland @dreamlandcreations

[webslingingslasher]

i havent been active because im literally trouble with the situationship im in rn.

related to that, since he’s made the dumbest photo of me his lock screen, what kinda pic of trouble does peter like the most 😭

— 🥡

i think something similar. i feel like peter doesn’t take pics when she’s at her best a whole lot but when she’s mid bite or has a stain or is hungover and sloppy, it’s his favorite time to snap a picture because yeah, he loves her all the time, but especially when she’s relaxed around him.

like, when drake said “sweatpants, hair tied, chilling with no makeup on, that’s when you’re the prettiest, i hope that you don’t take it wrong.” he wasn’t lying and i think that sums up how peter feels.

that being said -

a picture of her in bed, sitting up and cocooned in his blankets with messy hair and puffy eyes from just waking up. her hand is sticking out, trying to stop him from snapping a picture of her, and it’s just the tiniest bit blurry, but it’s a weak attempt and the smile she’s wearing tells him so.

[createacamillahect]

YAAAOWWWW TAKEOUT ANON HERE SO GLAD YOU QUIT YOUR JOB! LETS PARTY!

What do you feel about drooling while having sex because that shit drives me crazy. Like. The inherent loss of control ?!?!?! Relates to your last post about Palamedes' stamina btw 😭😭 you and Prev Anon both are geniuses ....

Like. Palamedes getting strapped HARD and scratching his fingers on the sheets because it feels so full and good. Biting the pillow, muffled moaning and whimpering, toe curling, mouth open, drooling all over the pillowcase... (Cam doesn't wash it after, just lets it dry up to be used to muffle her nose with his scent whenever she's masturbating like the freaks they are)

Palamedes thrusting on top of Camilla and his jaw is dropping open as her tight heat engulfs him, eyes rolled back, and there's drool spilling out his lower lip and into her sternum because he keeps panting and grunting like a dog in heat as he thrusts and slaps against her hips....

Palamedes getting blow/handjobbed and his jaw falling open, a string of drool dripping from his lips and him getting so careful not to drip it on Cam's hair while also trying not to buck his hips onto Cam's wet, hot mouth too hard to hurt her, or maybe if it's a handjob then Cam is laughing at his sight and kissing the wetness off his lips and pulling away from his lovestruck face saying "it cannot be that good, Warden," (it is that good).

- Sincerely, your most devoted fan,🥡

Fuuuuck

Devoted fan??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I love you too takeout anon!!! My last day is May 30!!! TOMORROW??? New job June 3 start 😎 I will be working outside with trees so stay tuned for my uphill battle against poison ivy/oak

Last ask here!

She loves his ass, too. Pulling and needing the soft flesh fat reserves there, dragging her hands along and feeling the slight bumps of acne. How there's less fat in his ass than hers, another the starch contrast between their two bodies.

She's mesmerized by the soft bounce in his flesh as she thrusts into him, taking note of his health as she does. He makes little keening noises into the pillow. His perfect teeth bite into the pillow below as he gets closer, and when she keeps going after he's come, his mouth hangs open with it gagged between his lips as he soaks it.

Sometimes afterwards she will shove the pillow between her legs beneath her vibrator and let out soft moans at the idea that it's his face and saliva she's grinding down on.

He's always so caring, sometimes she just has to instruct him to fuck her until he comes, holding a vibrator to herself until he's thrusting his hips into her needily, her clenching and thrusting against him hard as her whole body shakes in orgasm. She loves to be used for him.

Some of his saliva drips on her bare skin. It's heavier than the beads of his sweat. His eyes are scrunched shut, mauve kiss swollen lips hanging open as he concentrates on not orgasming until during hers.

Camilla enjoys blowing Palamedes. His fingers flutter nervously near her hair and he's always so needy like this. His lips are shiny and flushed from how often he licks his bottom lip to keep the drool from falling into her hair. He succeeds 1/3 of the time. She loves in particular when his saliva drips heavy on her face: cheekbones and nose.

She doesn't understand that the calluses on her hand drive him wild with just the slightest bit of roughness. He has calluses too, but theyre in different places and never feel as good as hers. His are from writing, on the inside of his thumb and the last knuckle of his ring finger. Most of hers are along the insides of her hands from her knives.

He buries his head in her neck, his hot breath on her neck as he mouthes her neck, mouth gaping open long enough to drip drool into the hollow of her shoulder, which slowly slides down her collarbone.

She feels something primal in her burn when she sees his precum dribble on her hand, so she pauses every so often to pull away and dip her fingers in herself, leaving as much of him inside her as she can before returning her wet fingers to his cock.

She kisses him and he chases her face as she laughes, biting and pulling her lip into his mouth, the hot slick of his mouth making her moan. She nips his tongue and questions, "Cat's got your tongue, Warden?" to which he breathlessly laughs, eyes screwed closed, and gives an affirmative grunt. She asks him if it's that good, or if he's just being dramatic ("It cannot be that good, Warden") and he drags the length of his nose along the wetness of her neck. He gathers enough breath to stop by her ear and whisper huskily, lips brushing against her ear with each syllable, "It really fucking is, Camilla." Which leads her to impatiently throwing a leg over his hips and riding him.

Dripping with his saliva and several orgasms later, they lay in bed kissing and he tells her again how good it was. She kisses him.

[officeobject]

(Also: https://www.tumblr.com/officeobject/766433903060877312/yes-i-am-going-to-address-the-ask-that-is-an?source=share ).

WHAT'S UP, GAMERS?! It's THE Manifique Gerald creation day, but this was all a disaster, except my ghost is here, so I'm less stressed, as at this point I'm done barking at any teenager who nears me within 2346738 killometer proximity, and just accept that my ghost is trying to platonically "rizz" me up, and that it's working, or whatver I do when it comes to teenagers.

Also I made THIS post, in case someone is interested: https://www.tumblr.com/officeobject/766428179884916736/i-ended-up-writing-out-this-vent-i-literally?source=share .

NOW I, FINALLY got a poll idea!

(But also look at Palestine GoFundMe stuff AT LEAST).

Also, PEOPLE KEEP VOTING ON "JASON" IN MY XANDERVERSE IRL POLL -

Take this as not a threat, but a warning, Jason ...

(Anyways, reblog and/or donate to Palestine)!

[missys-mansion-of-mistakes]

[Photos: Some flowers on my daily walk, my completed todolist.]

July 19th, 2024. Friday.

--------------------------

✏️ A very successful day, task-wise. I managed to complete almost all of my daily tasks (writing 1500 words, reading for an hour, writing a daily Slowly letter, etc). I managed to take a significant chunk out of the one-off tasks too. Reorganized my google calendar, picked up a package, and something that leads to my next point:

🥡 I realized that I have to stop attempting to count calories and losing weight. It's not that it doesn't work-- it does!-- but it always, eventually bounces back because of my eating disorder. So I have to treat the eating disorder before I can just push myself to lose weight. I researched eating disorder support groups and I will be attending as many of them as fit in my schedule. And I think that's an important first step for me. My low salary at this new job means I can't afford therapy, so this will have to supplement.

👔 I start this new job on Wednesday. Will probably go home to visit parents either today or tomorrow. Get my car looked at, make sure it's alright, and then keep pressing onwards.

❓ All of my current big projects are ending, so I need to figure out what's next.

New job: found

Research: semi-stalled for the timebeing

Getting fitter: explicitly not a thing anymore

🏅 I think it might be applying for scholarships again. The last round I did it, I only won 2 out of around 200 applications, but I think it was worth it.

What next project is on the horizon for you?