#and its half assed

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I pre-S4 I secret relationship AU I rated M I 3.9 k I angst I S4 fix-it I time skips

This was going to be a fully fleshed out story but I lost the umpf to finish, it just felt unnecessary to commit to an entire fic, so here's the rough draft for anyone interested.

July 10th, 1985

Eddie answered the door to find Steve Harrington standing off the porch, one foot on the bottom step, looking a bit like mangled raccoon roadkill, with somehow still an immaculate head of hair.

“Whoa, man, who'd you piss off this time?”

Steve slow blinked up at him. “I don't wanna talk about it. You open for business?”

He didn't normally take house calls but they weren't in school right now - Steve never would be again, the lucky bastard - and Eddie was saving up for a new amp, so yeah, he was open for business today.

“For you, Moneybags, always.” He held the door open wide.

Steve walked in, mumbling, “Not sure Moneybags is accurate now that I'm unemployed.”

“Well, then your money is even more precious. You could've spent it all on Budweiser but you chose me.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Steve.

“Don't know any other drug dealers,” he pointed out.

Eddie scowled. “C'mon, man, give me the illusion of being special.”

Steve's lips quirked, playful, even though it must've been stretching that cut painfully. “Oh, Munson, only your steller ditch weed can save me!”

Eddie would never admit it but the fact that he played along, albeit sarcastically, made him give Steve an extra pre-roll for free.

***

Aug 16th 1985

“And I said to her, ‘You can't expect me to tell you that. It's against the bro code or something,’ not that we were ever actually bros, it's the principle, right? But then she gives me the fuckin’ wet eyes, like I'm killing her-”

Eddie wasn't really listening, he was more focused on the task at hand, but Steve was a talker and Eddie had made peace with that weeks ago, so he politely hummed and nodded as needed to keep him going.

“Shit.”

“What?” Steve stopped monologuing to ask.

“Nothin’, just didn't have as much in this bag as I thought.” He put the tray aside and got up to grab another sack. There should be enough to round out Steve's usual six joints in his dresser stash.

“Anyway,” Steve continued on, unperturbed by the interruption, “I said to her-” He continued to wax about Nancy fucking Wheeler while Eddie dug through his top drawer. Ridiculous man couldn't wait thirty seconds, no, had to follow Eddie into his room. “Like Byers has the balls to cheat on her, ya know? And what the fuck am I supposed to do about it if he did? Fly to California and… Huh.”

“What?”

He was so wrapped up in looking for the right strain, he didn't turn to look until Steve's continued silence became weird.

He should've just given Steve five joints and charged him less.

“Uhhh. I can explain?”

Steve looked up from the skinmag on Eddie's side table and laughed. Actually laughed. “Oh yeah? I'd love to hear it.”

Why did he look so happy about it? Christ, he was literally bouncing on his toes.

“You're being weirdly chill about this,” he pointed out when Steve continued to grin.

“It's just funny, I guess. I have that same one.”

Time stopped. It started back up of course but not in any way that made sense. Because Steve was giving him that look, that open faced ‘See anything you like?’ look, with the steely eyed determination of a man who knew what he was doing. He'd seen that look before, in clubs, on the street. The problem Eddie was trying to work out wasn't so much ‘Could Steve Harrington really be queer?’, it was ‘Could Steve Harrington really want to fuck around with me?’

“What the fuck does that mean?” He asked, sure he was reading this wrong.

Steve cocked his head. “It means exactly what it sounds like.”

He turned to give Steve his full attention. “You, Steve Harrington, own the August edition of Drummer magazine.”

“Yes.”

“The gay porn mag.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He watched as Steve's face turned a lovely shade of pink. “To look at pictures of naked men and jerk off,” he said calmly, despite the blush. “Also the articles are well written and informative.”

That shocked a laugh out of Eddie. He crossed his arms and leaned up against the dresser. “Uh huh. What was your favorite one?”

“That story about the military rites of passage. Something about being told what to do gets me going.”

It could've just been a good guess, Eddie supposed, but he didn't think so.

“Oh yeah, private?” He said, all bravado. “Drop and give me twenty.”

The bravado died a soldier's death as he watched Steve hit the floor, on his knees, and then begin doing actual pushups. He watched up until twelve or so - the play of muscle under that blue and white polo was really something - before stopping him with a laugh.

“Get up, you fuckin' jock. We get it, you're in great shape.”

Steve did stop but only so he could sit back on his heels, hands placed firmly on his thighs, to look up at Eddie as though awaiting further instructions.

He gulped.

***

Sept 28th 1985

Eddie had his hand down Steve's pants, sucking a sizable hickey on his neck, when Steve blurted out, “Teen Wolf is playing at the Drive-In in Shelbyville.”

He backed away slowly, swimming through a haze of horny confusion to mumble, “The fuck?”

“Um. Just sayin'.”

“‘Just sayin'?’ Why are you ‘just sayin'’ right now?” He articulated this with a heavy squeeze to Steve's dick.

“Ha!” Steve arched toward him while also wincing in embarrassment. “I just wanted to ask before I forgot.”

A drop of cold lead sank Eddie's stomach. “Ask…what?”

He blinked at Eddie in the dark. “Do you wanna go? To the movies? With me?”

Heat washed out the cold feeling and replaced it with mounting anger; Eddie slowly pulled his hand from Steve's pants. He watched Eddie back away with wide-eyed confusion, going to ask what was wrong probably, but Eddie beat him to it, unwilling to hear the concern in his voice.

“I thought you understood what this was, Harrington. We don't do dates,” he spit the word like a curse. “That's something you do with the nice girls from your daddy's country club. We get each other off in the back of my van, where no one can see it rocking. Right? That's what this is.”

Steve's whole face shut down, giving nothing away. He gave Eddie a small nod, doing his pants back up. That was probably for the best, he was too rattled to get off now anyway.

“Yeah, I think we're done for today. Come see me when you remember what it is I'm good for.”

Steve didn't respond, just kicked open Eddie's back doors and hopped out. The beemer started a second later, not peeling out angrily, not kicking up gravel and dust in its wake, just drifted off into the night.

Eddie's hand shook as he tried to light a cigarette, flame winking in and out as his fingers slipped, another thing Steve had ruined. What an asshole, he thought, still furious. What the fuck was he thinking, asking Eddie out? That they'd just go to the movies together? Like a couple of regular people? Didn't he know that's not how things worked? If you're lucky, which Eddie was, you find a mentor to teach you the rules of staying safe. If you're not lucky, you learn the hard way.

Going steady with rich, popular boys was not on the list of approved activities.

Eddie snapped his cigarette in half and chucked it out the back door. The black of the lake beyond the trees, near invisible under a waxing moon, left him feeling sick to his stomach and lonely. The nights were getting too chilly to sit with the doors open anyway. He swung them shut and shrugged his flannel back on. The memory of Steve running his warm hands over Eddie's shoulders, slipping it off as he ran them down his back, struck Eddie like a slap to the face.

He shouldn't have freaked out. He could've handled it better. It wasn't Steve's fault he didn't know the rules. He didn't have someone like Gil to warn him about how dangerous it was out there. Oh well, it was too late to take it back now. He'd apologize when Steve came around again.

***

Oct 10th 1985

“I just don't get why he won't talk to me. I tried to see him at Family Video and he ran into the back office and locked the door. Buckley just stared at me until I was sure my hair would catch fire. Like I ever did anything to her,” he grumbled.

“Ed,” Gil sighed over the phone like Eddie was being particularly stupid, “he wanted to take you out and you yelled at him.”

When he said it like that it sounded reasonable. “Yeah, except we don't do that! You taught me that! That's not safe!”

“Oh, no. Oh, Eddie,” he sighed again. It was really starting to piss him off. “I didn't mean for you to take that to heart. You can't shut out everyone who might love you-”

“Love me?!” He screeched. “Are you insane? He didn't love me!”

“I'm not saying he did, I just mean you can't expect everyone you sleep with is going to agree no strings attached forever. Eventually you're going to fall for someone, and then all the bullshit running around in secret, that shit becomes worth it. I wasn't trying to stop you from falling in love, I was just trying to teach you how to get around safely.”

Eddie sputtered. He was so confused. Where was the burly, son of a bitch, leather vest wearing, biker bear who once told Eddie where to find the best glory holes in a new town? What the fuck was the shit about falling in love? That wasn't supposed to be in the cards for him. And certainly not with Steve Harrington. That was never going to be a thing. Not in the cards, not in the casino, not in Las Vegas itself! But all of a sudden he was allowed to date if he was sure the other person was worthy? Since when?!

Gil, instead of taking pity on him, doubled down. “I think it's probably too late with this Steve fella, but Eddie, don't push away the next one who takes an interest in you. Okay? It's still rough out there, it's still dangerous, but, god, what is any of this for if we aren't allowed to be in love?”

“You asshole,” he sniffed, “where was all this lovely advice two years ago?”

“You were a kid, dumb ass. If I'd told you to run off with the first guy who gave you butterflies, you'd be dead already. I was trying to keep you safe first, cut me some slack!”

“Fine! But I still blame you for fucking me on the Harrington thing. You have no idea what you cost me. Literally and figuratively. The wallet and the ass on that man.” He wasn't going to admit to missing the man attached to the wallet and the ass. It was too fresh of a realization.

“I'm sorry, kid. Seems like you really liked him.”

“What? No I didn't.”

“That why you called me and ranted about him for a half hour straight? Because you don't like him?”

Eddie scowled at the sink. “Shut up.”

Gil sighed at him again.

***

March 29th, 1986

A car had pulled up.

His blood was rushing in his ears, nothing but the sound of the ocean in a giant seashell, like the one his mom had kept on her dresser, so he didn't hear the voice at first. It wormed its way into his understanding slowly, a male voice, low, calling his name.

He grasped the bottle tighter, waited until the voice got closer, and then sprang out from under the tarp. His senses grew sharp, focusing on the dark shape in front of him. They came together hard, fell into the wall with a jarring crash. All thoughts went into stopping the body against him from hurting him first.

Hands grasped his wrist to keep the bottle from finding its mark. Strong hands, with wide knuckles, ones that Eddie hadn't seen in six months but still, unbidden, saw in his dreams.

He finally looked up and found Steve Harrington at the end of his makeshift knife.

“It's me, Eds, it's me” he was panting. “You're safe. I promise. It's okay.” He kept repeating it until Eddie finally let go of the bottle. Let go and then buried his face into Steve's neck and wept. He couldn't stop it, it just came out of him, everything, all the terror and confusion and guilt.

“I didn't do it, I didn't hurt her, it wasn't me,” he kept repeating.

“I know. I know, Eds, I know you didn't,” Steve answered, hand still running over the back of his head. Like the last six months were just a terrible dream.

He didn't even notice Steve wasn't alone, not until Henderson clasped him around the shoulder and told him there were things living under Hawkins, things that would make a horde of Beholders turn tail and run.

And they'd been dealing with it all since ‘83?

Which meant Steve was already a hardened veteran when he was goofing off in Eddie's trailer, making tusks out of pretzel rods and calling Ewoks by the wrong name.

“Jesus Christ.” He put his head between his knees and did his best to ignore Steve's hand rubbing up and down his back. He didn't want the comfort but he took it anyway.

***

March 31st 1986

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve pulled up next to him, skipping over the slimy Devil Roots with ease, “I just wanted to say thanks for savin’ my ass back there.”

Eddie chuckled lowly, not ready to say, ‘You know what you did, you macho asshole.’ “Pretty sure Wheeler saved your ass but you're welcome.”

“You definitely helped. I mean, you didn't have to swim through a portal to hell after me but you did.”

The shame of Steve giving him even an ounce of credit crept up his throat and started to choke him. Steve had been getting drug to hell by some unknown force and still Eddie had hesitated. He was a coward.

“Man, I just didn't want to be the asshole who stayed behind.”

The silence felt damning, like he should've just kept his mouth shut.

Steve jammed his hands into his ratty sweatpants. “Right.”

Now he thought Eddie didn't care at all.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he whispered, “You know that's not the whole truth, right? I know things are weird between us but I don't want you dead.”

He had to keep his eyes on the ground as they walked but out of his periphery he could see Steve nod.

“Yeah. I get it.”

He didn't but Eddie didn't know what else to say. He hadn't let himself think about what they were to each other now. Not friends, not ex’s, not strangers. He’d tried not to think about Steve at all - except what he couldn't avoid, like Henderson’s obsession with him and things his brain forced him to remember at night - since whatever they were doing ended. Since Steve left and never came back.

He opened his mouth to soften the moment, tell Steve how Henderson would've killed him in a more creative way than Vecna if he'd let Steve die, but Steve cut him off.

“I should thank you for that too.”

Eddie chanced looking over.

“For what?”

“For ending things when you did.”

The squirm in his gut worsened. They hadn't talked about it. He didn't want to talk about it. “Oh?” He choked out.

“Yeah, I was, uh, making a bigger thing out of what we, what we were doing, than I should've. I blame Robin for enabling me, she's the one who said to just ask you out like a normal person. Sorry for making it weird and ruining it. Always trying to give my heart to people who don't want it.” He chuckled morosely. “Anyway, thanks, I guess. You probably saved me from a lot more heartache later down the line.” He slapped Eddie on the back, like they were old chums, and then he skipped up to the girls without a backwards glance.

Eddie stood there, alone, gaping at his retreating back.

***

April 1st, 1986

Eddie had always been good at compartmentalizing. When his mom got sick, he got really into Tolkien, let that be his focal point in a storm of hospital visits and missed days at school. When his dad got picked up and sent to prison, he let Wayne teach him how to play guitar, which he spent most of his waking hours on. When Steve made it clear he was done with Eddie, he packed up the little pocket of time they had, the enjoyment he'd found in Steve's company, and folded it under the recesses of his mind, told himself it was all for the best, to not think of it again, and then he threw himself into Hellfire.

So, now that he’d found himself in another untenable situation, clarity struck Eddie like lightning as he thrashed on the ground - Hey, dumbass, Steve Harrington actually liked you, wanted to date you, would've fallen for you, and you fucking blew it. Not only did you blow it, you broke his fucking heart.

It was an asinine thought to have while he was actively dying but considering the alternative was acknowledging that he was being eaten alive by demon bats, he welcomed thoughts of Steve.

Steve, who Eddie had convinced himself was just scratching an itch with someone who wouldn't tell, but who had actually been telling his best friend the whole time.

Steve, who came over for weed but stayed to hang out, sometimes for hours, well before they were fooling around.

Steve, who wasn't anything like Eddie had assumed he would be, was exactly the kinda guy Eddie would've fallen for. If he was allowed.

But he had been allowed, the whole time apparently, and was too stupid to notice.

Henderson showed up a minute later, just as the bats collapsed around him, thank god. If he'd gotten the asshole killed he was fairly certain Steve would've brought him back somehow just to kill him again.

He wasted a lot of breath apologizing to Dustin, agreeing that he was totally gonna make it. Wasted some more trying to bequeath Hellfire to him. Wasted his last breath to say, “Tell Steve I'm sorry.”

Dustin wouldn't understand what for but maybe Steve would.

Just before he lost consciousness he caught Dustin saying, “Tell him yourself,” and then something that sounded suspiciously like, “Eddie! No.”

But by then he was gone.

***

Date unknown, 1986

He was never sure if what he was experiencing was real or not. Since the pain had stopped everything had a surreal quality, mostly flashes of light, some sound trickled in, shouting and crying and tires squealing; all of it was fleeting and seemed unimportant.

The first thing that felt real was Wayne's voice. Gruff and short and so, so familiar. It brought tears to his eyes. He was pretty sure anyway, hard to tell when he couldn't open them yet.

“Get your boy, Fletch, or I'm gonna break his arm.”

“Now, Wayne, we're just doin’ our job,” Chief Powell said in a softer tone than Wayne's snarl or Callahan's offense.

“Either one of you touch a hair on his head, I'll-”

“Have Steve call his famous lawyer dad,” Robin piped up from somewhere in the room, thankfully stopping Wayne from further incriminating himself.

“He's a divorce attorney,” Steve mumbled. “But he knows people!” He rallied after what Eddie imagined was a look from Robin.

A beat went by, Eddie almost slipped away in the quiet, before Chief Powell spoke up again. “You're all gonna go to bat for this kid?”

Steve responded first. “He's a hero.”

Eddie didn't get to enjoy that for long, a nurse came in to shuffle them all out of the room so they could re-up his pain meds and then it was nighty-night again.

***

Date Unknown, 1986

The next time Eddie woke, it was dark in the room, only a bit of light coming in from under the door and from the parking lot lights outside. His eyes felt gritty, heavy with sleep, but he could make out the shape of Steve in the chair beside his bed.

He was awake, staring down at the side of Eddie's mattress.

No.

Eddie followed his gaze and found Steve staring at his hand where it laid across his own forearm, careful of the tubes they were both hooked to. As soon as he saw it, he became aware of the warmth of it, Steve's huge hand draped over his cold skin.

“Feels nice,” he tried to say but it came out more garbled mess than actual words.

It was enough to get Steve's attention though.

“Eddie!” He said with excitement, relief. “What do you need? I should get the nurse.”

Eddie forced his arm to respond, to turn over and clasp Steve where he was about to remove himself. His grasp wasn't near enough to keep Steve in place but the fact that he tried kept Steve where he was.

His voice refused to cooperate, felt like coughing up glass, but he tried to communicate that Steve should stay.

“Okay, okay, I'm here. Not going anywhere. Do you need anything? Water? Pain meds?”

Eddie could definitely use both of those things but the most pressing thing, the only thing he could really think of was…

Lifting his hand to point as steadily as he could at Steve's chest.

He chuckled. “Why do you keep trying to take my shirt?”

The question made little sense. For one thing, this was the first he remembered being coherent enough to demand anything, and second, Steve wasn't wearing a shirt, he was in a hospital gown, same as Eddie.

He shook his head as best he could, a frustrated frown and a grunt to indicate that wasn't what he meant at all.

Steve leaned closer. “What is it? I don't know what you need, Eddie.”

Now that he was closer, Eddie reached out as best he could and pressed his palm to the left side of Steve's chest.

They stared at each other. Eddie could feel the tears slipping down his face but he didn't dare move his hand to wipe them away.

Slowly, like he was scared, Steve's hand came up to press Eddie's hand closer. Big and warm and missed to the point of aching, though Eddie had been loath to admit it to himself.

“You’re serious?” Steve whispered. “You want...this?”

Eddie nodded frantically.

“If you mean my tit I'm going to be so pissed at you.”

Eddie choked on a laugh. He did his very best to mouth, “That too.”

That got him a laugh, a soft one. "Some things don't change." He looked away, shy. Or not shy exactly, cautious. "I hope you remember you said all this when you wake up again. You're pretty doped up."

That was an easy fix. The drugs probably made it easier to admit but he was tired of pretending it wasn't true.

He pulled Steve's hand until it settled over his own chest, stitches and all, and forced himself to croak, "I already tried to forget, sweetheart. It didn't work."

Steve's answering smile rivaled the dawn.

[dimeadozencows]

You know it's over for you when you can draw a whole page of only one character

Shamelessly plugging (pun intended) my Ramb essay on my most popular post of him lol. (Check it out if you want, I think it turned out neat!!)

[cozylittleartblog]

i thought naming myself this would be really funny. and it Is. every time i get into a match i think about gabriel playing Miku Rhythm Game

[bi-writes]

hi! i was thinking if you could write an older!boyfriend simon x reader BUT reader is john price's daughter so is kinda of a forbidden and secret relationship !!!! they've been dating for a long time now until john finds out !!!!!

18+

"how is she?"

"doing well, john. but you don't have to worry about her anymore, you know that right? she's not yours to worry about."

"she is mine. i know she's not..." john huffs. "she may not be blood, but she's mine, yeah? so when i ask 'ow she is, you tell me, kate. can we agree on that?"

"sure, john. she's in georgia. her russian got very good. if you want to know my honest opinion, i think she'll be one of my best."

"well...i wouldn't stand for anythin' less."

"john?"

that voice is music to him. he turns, taking his hat off, and he laughs, genuinely, when he sees you. his whole face lights up, and you make your way to him. it's been months since you've seen him in person--even though he makes you send him constant updates about what you're doing and where you are, you find yourself missing this man and the warmth he gives off whenever you are in his proximity.

he's always looked at you so kindly. he's always taken care of you. whenever you pick up the phone, he's always answered.

"'ello, bug."

he crushes you in a warm hug. he puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds you to his chest, and the tension in his shoulders deflates now that he has you with him.

"hi, john. miss me?"

"well...you were the only one with sense in my house."

"you live alone, john."

"aye."

he pours you a hot cup of tea before he makes you tell him all about your new posting. most of it is classified, and you tell him that, but his face lights up when you talk about the new skills you're learning and all the opportunities that kate is giving you. his face scrunches a little when you talk about the more dangerous ops, but john never has the same regard for his own life.

the mess hall gets busy once dinner time rolls around. his men were not expecting you, and that much is clear when they see their captain even enjoying a meal in public and not secluded in his office. you smile at his sergeants, but when your gaze lingers a little longer on the doors, johnny just nudges you with his elbow.

"miss the big guy?"

"what? no."

"he had a long night last night," he wiggles his eyebrows at gaz, who just laughs a little. "i might need to try the whole brooding, scary look LT has got on. attracts the most bonnie things, fuckin' christ."

your plate flies when you stab at your food too hard. the cutlery clatters as it hits the floor, and you jump a little, swallowing.

"are you alright, bug?"

"huh? yeah, oh...yeah, just...fucking clumsy. i...i'm gonna...find the toilet."

the blood is rushing in your ears as you make your way out. you're vibrating, hot inside, and you feel him before you see him, even in your anger.

when he pulls you into the shadow of a nearby supply closet, you swipe the blade out of your boot and hold it up against his throat. even through the mask, the blade bites, and he hisses as you hold him up against the wall there.

"don't fucking touch me," you snarl, and ghost's eyes are bright and alive as he holds his hands up defensively.

"wot--"

"and don't what me," you snap. "actually, don't fucking talk at all, you cheating, manipulative, british piece of shit--"

"look so pretty," he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. "did you do y'r hair, baby?"

"i will kill you."

"'s olright. last thing i see'll be you."

"i'm not fucking kidding, simon!"

he bends a little, tilting his head, and you breathe out through your nose as he leans his forehead against yours.

"reckon ya spoke t'johnny."

you scoff. "told me all about your winnings last night, lieutenant."

"was no winnings, love, don't be so fuckin' naïve." simon swipes at the handle of the blade, curling his gloved fingers around your wrist and forcing it away from him. "y'r just mad cause y'r cunt missed me."

"don't flatter yourself, asshole."

"so if i pull your knickers down right now, y'won't be drippin', swee'eart?"

"that's irrelevant."

"'s not. turn around and bend over."

simon's sorry, so he eats your pussy from behind. he gets down on his knees, and the crack of them satisfies you immensely, up until you feel his mouth between your cheeks, tongue slicking up your folds. you brace yourself against the wall, palms flat against the concrete as he puts two gloved hands against your ass and spreads you wide to fit himself nicely there. he hums, groans, makes you whine as he slurps obscenely into your cunt, laving at the drip of you until the taste of you floods his mouth.

"simon..." you whimper. "tell me i-it's not true."

he presses a wet kiss to your ass, biting it firm.

"'s not true, love. promise."

"fuck your promises," you sniffle. "you're a professional liar."

"tha' 'ow it's gonna be, innit? not gonna trust me? believe me?"

you rest your forehead against the cool wall, and the shadow of him envelopes you when he stands. he grunts a little as he gets to his feet. his big hands squeeze at the curve of your waist, and you close your eyes when you feel his breath against your neck.

"i'm sorry, simon."

"for wot?"

"i just...i like you so much. so much."

"come 'ere," he murmurs in your ear. he pulls your hips back, pressing your ass against his pelvis, and you dig your nails into the wall when you hear his belt buckle and zipper. "my pretty girl. my pretty, pretty girl."

"i missed you s-so much, simon."

"i know, love. quiet now. someone'll hear."

it's not the worst place you've fucked. you've snuck quickies in the rec room. behind the mess hall. met up in filthy gas station toilets, fallen into the backseat of a car in the parking lot of numerous military bases. even once, you deigned to suck his dick in his office, and you had to hide behind his couch when john came in to ask about an op.

john had a rule. his men were off-limits. he should've thought about that before he hired a man straight out of your wet dreams for his stupid fucking task force.

you're weak. and simon is a man.

inevitable.

you're a mile into pound-town when someone interrupts. simon is cock-deep inside of you, pelvis up against your ass, one hand braced around your throat and the other squeezing your ass. your eyes are rolled back into your head, and there's drooling coming out of your mouth. it's hot, disgusting, filthy to let him have you like this, but it's been weeks since you've seen him, and the phone calls aren't enough.

you love talking to him. you love when he talks to you. he'll never be annoying to you, you'll never get tired of him, but the distances hurts. you want simon to be all around you--inside of you, against you, his voice in your ear and his mouth against yours and his warmth your only sheet, but you can't bring yourself to do more than this.

you're too afraid of disappointing people. you're too scared of simon's rejection. if your relationship is nothing but fun, nothing but sex, you can pretend it isn't real, but you're just lying to yourself now.

you babble, and it sounds like love, but then the hallway light blinds you, and familiar blue eyes nearly kill you.

"jesus christ!"

simon puts his body in front of yours to cover you, using a harsh boot to kick the door closed. you squeak, covering your face with your hands, and you groan audibly as simon pants against your back.

"fuck--" you gasp. "oh...fuck, fuck, fuck!"

simon buries his face into the crook of your neck, laughing a little.

"bloody hell," he breathes. "reckon we're fucked, huh, love?"

"it's not funny, simon! we're in so much trouble!"

"well..." he squeezes your throat gently, tilting your head back. "could still finish. no sense in pretendin' now."

"you are not going to come when he's probably waiting for us outside."

"i'm balls deep in my favorite girl," simon mutters. "could come just fine. just say the word."

"you're disgusting."

"mmm..." simon squeezes your hips. "keep talkin'. i like when y'talk t'me like tha'."

"fucking asshole."

"yeah...yeah."

"you stupid, immature, unhinged pain in my ass--"

"fuck."

well.

you're definitely never leaving this room.

[bunnieswithknives]

The animatic is done!! 💕

[yellow-yarrow]

Dolores Dei web weaving / art history connections

[thebestsetter]

"When a boy likes a girl, he's mean to her. He pulls her pigtails, stucks his tongue out at her, screams at her--"

Wrong. Because Blue Lock boys would never.

When Isagi first discovered he liked you, his first instinct was to become your personal "maid", while also following you around like a shadow. Everytime you needed help, he'd be the first to do so. Everytime you passed by each other on the halls, he tried to make your shoulders touch. Everytime you forgot your lunch, he gave you his, even if he spent the rest of the day hungry as hell. Everytime someone bad mouthed you, you can bet Yoichi was right there, ready to beat someone up. He's the perfect gentleman, through and throughout.

When Reo realized he was in love with you, he showered you with gifts. You couldn't spend a single day without recieving tons of your favorite things, even after you told him he didn't need to get you anything: favorite food, merch of your favorite show, etc etc. And you can bet no one can hurt you, his beloved. He doesn't even have to "get his hands dirty". He's going to use his influence to make the person's life a living hell without as much as lifting a finger. It's all for you, after all!

Hiori managed to ditch some practices just to spend more time with you. It was NOT and easy feat: it looked like his parents knew where he was at all times (do they have a tracker on his phone or something? Oh wait. They probably do), and he had a perfectly made schedule he needed to follow strictly. Even so, he managed to fool his parents (with the help of Karasu, who lied to them telling him he was at practice, bless him for it) and take a break from football for a while. And when you both are laying in the grass and looking at the sky while you caress his hair gently, he can't help but close his eyes and wonder if this is the closest he'll ever get to freedom. When he opens his eyes again and sees you, he also can't help but notice that, if you're the closest thing he has to happiness, he doesn't want nor need anything else.

So yeah, that affirmation is just ridiculous. When a man is really in love with a woman, he does everything in his powers to be close to her. And here's the proof.

[kettle-bird]

Commission for @modmad of RGB from The Property of Hate! Which you should totally go read immediately it is absolutely top notch

[ca-3]

twitter is distracting cause i keep saving tweets to draw... anyway, this is MakoHaru to me 🤭

(Bonus: big sis is here to help....?)

[bryverros]

my special little guy

[fuctacles]

prev

The drinks Steve had make them stop at a gas station midway back. Wayne doesn't intervene when he sees Steve stroll inside, but when he leaves and detours to the left, he raises his eyebrows and stubs out his cigarette to follow him.

He finds Steve with a payphone pressed into his ear. Letting the curiosity get the better of him, he leans against the wall nearby, and when he gets spotted, Steve smiles wide and wiggles his fingers at him. Wayne wiggles back, realizing Steve may be more drunk than he thought, so he comes closer.

"Who are you calling?" he asks in a whisper. 

"Eddie," Steve answers, leaning heavily against the flimsy piece of plastic shielding the phone from the elements. Before Wayne can react, someone picks up. "Hi Eddie," Steve croons into the speaker. "No, we're alright, I just wanted to talk to you--We're having fun." His eyes meet Wayne's while Eddie is talking into his ear. "Why can't I sleep with your uncle?"

Wayne presses his lips together. He hopes it doesn't end up in a bigger argument, because no matter what his dick may think, his relationship with his nephew comes first, always. 

Steve motions him to come closer. He hesitates for a moment, but steps into the cover of the phone booth.

"You can do what you want, really," he hears Eddie's voice on the other end. Even through the line, he sounds pissed. "I just don't want shit to be weird after. How are we supposed to hang out if I know you fucked Wayne?"

With a slight delay, Steve nods against the receiver. 

"But I'm--" He licks his lips, conflicted, glancing at Wayne again. "Eddie," he sighs, whines almost, like he's asking for something.

Wayne frowns, now wondering if there's something more than horny hormones fighting for attention in Steve's brain. 

"What?" Eddie bristles. "You're what?"

Steve huffs in frustration.

"I trust Wayne," he says eventually, eyes darting to the man in question and cheeks going pink. 

There's silence from all three of them.

"He's a good man," Eddie agrees with a sigh. "Just... Whatever you do, I don't want to know about it."

Steve frowns. 

"I won't do anything that would upset you." In his periphery, Wayne nods in agreement, though he doesn't seem to want to let his presence be known.

"Dude, I'm already upset!"

He winces. 

"Okay, fair. " He wets his lips, thinking how to appease his friend. "We should hang out, just the two of us. No Wayne, no Robin, no kids."

"Sure. That would be fun." He doesn't sound appeased at all.

The phone beeps in his ear, letting him know his time is up.

"Okay, uh, see you soon."

He hears Eddie make an affirmative noise before the line cuts off. Wayne eases the receiver out of his hand to put it back on the cradles. 

"He'll get over it. Come on, let's get you home."

Steve doesn't seem thrilled at the idea, but follows Wayne to his truck anyway. 

Once on the road with no safe way to jump out of the car, the older man clears his throat. 

"You said you trust me, on the phone."

"Mhm," Steve doesn't look up, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket. 

"What's that about?" he prods. 

It takes a while for him to answer.

"It's about men. Obviously," he scoffs tiredly. "I make a move on the wrong one and get my teeth kicked out."

"So I'm a convenient queer, huh?"

"What?! No!" Steve turns towards him, but lets out a relieved huff seeing his small, teasing smile. "You're cool and nice, and a good looking guy. Are you fishing for compliments?" he quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Well, if you're offering them..." The man grins. "You're not so bad on the eyes yourself."

Steve snorts, looking away to hide his blush.

"Thanks."

"Can't wait to tell everyone the cool kid thinks I'm cool, too."

"Don't be such a dad," Steve laughs, and the atmosphere finally lifts. 

"Hey."

"Hm?" 

"It's been a while for me, but I know some bars we could go to," Wayne offers as they approach the Welcome to Hawkins sign. "You could find someone else to trust.  And I could make sure you're safe."

Steve's been dozing off, but suddenly feels wide awake. 

"You'd be my chaperone at a gay bar?" he asks incredulously. 

"More or less," Wayne nods slowly. 

"Why?" Steve frowns. "What do you get out of it?"

"Peace of mind? Knowledge that one more queer kid is being safe?" He half-shrugs. "I may not be an active part of the gay crowd, but we should still look out for each other. And I feel partially responsible, as the first man you made a move on."

"Gosh," Steve grins sheepishly, feeling warm inside from Wayne's words. And outside, around his cheeks specifically. "You're such a dad."

"Shush, kid."

"This is not helping my crush, for the record."

"Oh, it's a crush now?" Wayne smirks.

"Shush, dad."

"I'll remember to mention it at your engagement party in a few years."

.

.

.

.

.

Five years later

"Oh no." Steve watches Wayne stand up from the table, hesitating with the spoon he's holding against the glass before deciding to go with the good old fashioned whistle to attract everyone's attention. A sudden memory flashes through his mind, but maybe...

"Now, don't worry..." Wayne sounds like the two drinks he's had already hit him. Steve told him he doesn't need the extra shots in them, but he didn't listen. "I'm not about to spring another mushy gushy love story on ya." He grins and someone, probably Max, murmurs a thanks to god. "But I want you all to know that this started because Steve was trying to hit on me five years ago."

"Oh god," Eddie groans next to him, sliding down in his seat. 

"And my boy got so jealous he barely spoke to me for a month. Tragically, it took him another month to figure out he's into men."

Someone snorts and Wayne grins. Only the top of Eddie's head is visible over the table now. 

"Exactly! But we got here all because of this," Wayne points a thumb at himself, "hot old man." 

And he winks, terrifyingly, at someone on Steve's side of the gathering. He doesn't catch who, though, but maybe that's for the best. There's a fiancé he has to fish from under the table anyway.

tags: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94 @divinelyjude @marklee-blackmore  @ajeff855 @holyangelstudentuniverse @dauntlessdiva

[ohposhers]

i wish i remembered the context of this shitposts creation but i really dont im sorry everybody

[kelocitta]

Day 5: Looks to the Moon (Region) Straight up I skipped this region by accident my playthrough

[arinmoss]

Mr. Elliott Stardew Valley once again U_U

[fatedroses]

He has, in fact, not had his coffee yet.

[minionsuncle]

Nothing I could get my rocks off to

Anyway kind of ironic that it’s called downtime when it’s always the most stressful part of the season