captainpygmy

[captainpygmy]

Traugott the newbie Medic meets Pasha, the Heavy of the team.

[captainpygmy]

Valentines week day 2: Gifts! 

An idea I wanted to do for Christmas, but Valentines works! They both have a special love for hand-made gifts, but it’s especially touching for snipes. 

[captainpygmy]

stranger things behind the scenes

[captainpygmy]

silly lil comic.. i wanna make a children’s book

[captainpygmy]

this is exactly how this scene went, i know cuz i remember

steddie/steveddie comic (wip)

MWAUH! anyways, heres a smooch in motion😮

[tender, emotional music playing]

[captainpygmy]

you can’t argue with the facts

[captainpygmy]

[captainpygmy]

opened clip studio for the first time in like a month and he was there.. i dont remember drawing this but hes cute

[captainpygmy]

A Pair of Trouble

A/N: I'm back! Season 4 has me missing Billy so here we are. Also can you tell I love writing brother! Billy? Will probably continue on with this specific reader in future.

Characters: Sibling!Reader x Sibling! Billy (Twins)

Warnings: Mentions of Domestic Abuse (Neil), underaged drinking, mentions of date rape (nothing specific), Billy gets in a fight, blood, etc. Vomit. Y/n is pretty similar to Billy with her actions, but also notably tamer. Some wholesome sibling content. (Most warnings are for the end of the story!)

word count: 6.3

Out of all places you thought you’d end up living, Hawkin’s Indiana was the last on your list. It was quite literally, the middle of fucking nowhere. Compared to the sunny California you’d grown up in your entire life. You hadn’t even seen the house you’d be moving into across the country. Only your father Neil and new step-mother Susan had. You were going in blind and it terrified you. 

The last minutes of your school day were quickly approaching, the last moments of normalcy creeping up on you like some kind of monster in the night. As soon as the bell rang, you’d climb into your twin's car and leave your entire life behind, leaving straight from the school. Both yours and Billy’s belongings were either already in the uhaul Neil, Susan, and Maxine were driving or tucked away in the back of the camaro. Your friends had been giving you teary-eyed goodbyes all day. All the plans you’d discussed regarding your senior year, halloween plans, and graduation had been thrown away when your father dropped the bomb about the move last week. Based on the fight that had occurred between you and Billy versus him, he’d been waiting until the last minute to give the two of you zero room to argue and change his mind.

A shrill sound rang out, signaling the end of the school day. You gave one last hug to your lifelong friends, and headed to your locker. Billy was already making his way to the car and you saw numerous guys pat him on the back and girls throwing themselves at his feet, telling him how much they’d miss him making him promise to stay in touch. You scoffed, knowing he’d be doing none of that. Shoving the rest of your books and miscellaneous items from your locker into your backpack. You slammed your locker angrily and hot tears began to stream steadily down your face as you grit your teeth together, your jaw set in the expression that deemed you a bitch from most people.

It was bullshit, everything was bullshit. You wanted to punch something, anything to release the anger coursing through your veins. There was no denying that you and Billy both had extreme issues when it came to controlling your anger, you could thank your father and his methods of ‘parenting’ for that. 

You made your way to Billy’s camaro, Neil had sold your car without you knowing the day the bomb about Hawkins was dropped. Probably knowing you’d be the less explosive between the two of you. You had screamed at him, that was for sure and it wasn’t until Neil had stood up abruptly you made eye contact with Billy, no doubt him telling you to pick your battles. This was not one you’d be winning. Your brother was currently leaning up against the driver's side door, a cigarette placed between his lips which you took the minute you noticed it. 

“Give me that.” You muttered, placing it between your own lips as he protested behind you. Ignoring him, you found yourself in the passenger seat, arms crossed as you took a puff from it, blowing the smoke out of the side of your mouth. Billy had already lit another one by this point and was now getting in the car, placing the key in the ignition and listening to the engine turn over with a rumble. 

He said nothing as he pulled out of his parking spot and onto the main road, music blaring through the speakers. The windows were rolled down, and you took the time to take in your surroundings of the place you grew up in one last time. You snuffed out the cigarette in the ashtray occupying the middle of  the front seat. Eventually, when you made it to the highway leading away from California, Billy rolled up the windows and turned down the music. 

“You okay?” He asked cautiously. 17 years of arguments and tears from that exact question in the back of his mind. The two of you being twins meant that sometimes you knew the other better than they knew themselves. Both of you were practically attached at the hip, and it was always just the two of you against the world. God forbid anyone got in your way. You’d go to war for each other, and there’d been numerous fights broken up by each other to prove that. It was school-wide news that the pair of you were trouble and not to be fucked with.

“No.” You said shortly, puffing out your chest and he laughed quietly as you stated the obvious. 

“Neither am I.” He admitted, turning the radio up once more. 

_____

You arrived in Hawkins, approximately 48 hours later. After hours of switching between who was driving, and even pulling into a rest stop to sleep in the camaro, you in the backseat,  Billy in the front, (who admittedly hadn’t slept well, waiting after you had gone to bed to make sure no one approached the car until eventually he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore) your new house was in front of you. It was a shit shack. An actual shit shack. 

“Fucking hell.” Billy grumbled, parking on the street and turning off the car. Silence encased both of you as the radio turned off with it. 

“Fucking hell is right.” You muttered, opening the car door and stretching your legs for the first time in hours, getting the first official glance at your new house. 

The front porch was encased by screens to keep bugs out, and the house itself was white. Mildew stained the sides of it green and your fathers car was already parked out front, taking up the entirety of the driveway that could easily fit two. Guess the Camaro would permanently be parked on the street. 

You and Billy walked to the front door, your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. Max was sitting outside on the porch, taping her skateboard. 

“Welcome home.” She grumbled, her attention never leaving the skateboard. 

“Thanks.” You said back pushing the door open, Billy following suit. Boxes were stacked everywhere, some already unpacked, more waiting for the two of you. It was Sunday night, you’d have school in the morning but your father surely wouldn’t let either of you sleep until the entire house was unpacked. You had flashbacks about the conversation regarding “respect and responsibility” that ended up with you having a bruised wrist from how hard he’d gripped it, and a hole in the inside of your cheek from biting it so hard to avoid snapping back. 

The house had four bedrooms, they were extremely tiny, but at least you’d have your own space and wouldn’t have to share with Max. Probably better for everyone involved. The bathroom would be shared between the three of you but you could work with that, fully prepared to fight Billy for your time to get ready in the morning. 

“About damn time the two of you showed up.” Your father spoke, coming from what you could only assume was the kitchen area. “What took so long?”

“We had to sleep sometime, dad.” You mumbled taking in the space that would now be your room. Whether he heard you or not wasn’t discussed as Billy came into your room, holding your backpack out towards you. 

“Thanks.” 

“The two of you need to get your rooms unpacked before you go to bed tonight. Try not to slack, you still have school in the morning. No excuses.” Neil said, looking between the two of you as if waiting for some sort of objection. Neither of you had the energy to fight him on this and it already felt like you were walking on eggshells around your fathers temper the minute you entered the house. “Susan and I are going out, so I expect you both to keep an eye on Maxine.” 

“Yes sir.” Billy said hoping the conversation would end and Neil would leave them both alone. 

Finally, Neil left the room. The twins let out a sigh of relief when he was out of ear shot. It was 5 o'clock now, and the amount of boxes that crowded the hallway was already overwhelming enough, let alone the fact that you had school in the morning and had been in a car for the past two days. You heard the door shut and the engine of your fathers car come to life and pull out of the driveway. They’d be gone for hours, you could almost guarantee it. 

Every bit of your entire being wanted to lay down and sleep, but unfortunately your mattress hadn’t even been placed on the bed frame. Instead it was leaning against the wall in the hallway, right next to Billy’s. 

“Alright Billy, better put your workouts to use.” You said, grabbing his attention from where he was putting your knick-knacks on shelves. Oddly enough it was one of his favorite things back in California. He’d rearrange them to make them fight, or put them in lewd positions waiting for you to notice and bitch at him for moving them.

“I’m busy.” He all but whined, placing seashells in the shape of a penis. Still he followed you to the hallway and helped you maneuver the mattress through the door.

“Jesus Billy, are we in middle school?” You asked, shaking your head. He only giggled and told you to move and allow him to put the mattress on the bed frame. 

Eventually your rooms began to resemble just that. Like there were people living there rather than blank walls and bare shelves. It was approximately 11 o’clock when the two of you finished unpacking. Boxes were broken down and put in a recycling bin on the curb. 

Max was already in her room with the lights off, probably sleeping while you and Billy shared a cigarette on the front porch. Probably the last moments of peace you’d have for a while.

Your new house was smaller than the last, and tensions were bound to be high. The fall air was cold, you had a crew neck from your old highschool on. It was strange, referring to it as your old school. Didn’t feel normal at all. Nothing about this was normal. 

You snuffed the cigarette out on the railing, throwing the bud somewhere in the bushes hoping Neil wouldn’t find them. 

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” You asked your brother who was taking the final drag of his own cigarette. Blowing the smoke up into the brisk night air and watching it disappear. 

“Not worried about it whatsoever if that’s what you’re asking.” He scoffed putting his cigarette out on the same rail you did. “Won’t take long for us to climb the ranks, I’m sure everyone’s dying for someone new to roll in.” 

_________

Morning came and Billy’s words from the night before seemed to be proven correct. All eyes were on the camaro as it peeled into the parking lot, blaring Rock you like a hurricane by the Scorpions. Max was in the backseat, eyeing the middle school with disgust. Billy stepped out first, his dirty blonde mullet styled to perfection. Every single person in the lot eyed the denim clad boy who shut the car door behind him taking a cigarette out from in between his lips as he looked back towards you letting Max out of the car, putting the passenger seat back in position. Max skated off towards the middle school, and Billy offered you a drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the side with a flick of his fingers. 

You blew the smoke towards the sky with a laugh shaking your curls back behind the base of your skull, pulling your leather jacket on tighter. Your jeans hugged your waist and the cream colored sweater you had on kept you warm in the brisk October air. 

“Who are they?” You heard a feminine voice ask from across the parking lot. You smirked looking at your brother and the two of you walked in the building as if you already owned the place. Then again, it wouldn’t take long until you did. 

By the time the bell rang, the two of you were still in the office getting schedules and locker combinations. Luckily, they were practically the same. Apparently the majority of Hawkin’s students had the same one. In a town this small, they could be. Eventually the secretary let you go to find your first class of the day which happened to be chemistry. Internally, you groaned. It should be a crime to take chemistry at 7:30 in the morning but here you were. 

Billy was behind you as you opened the door, interrupting the man teaching who you presumed was Mr. Blake. Once more, all eyes were on you. 

“Ah, you two must be our new students. Everyone, this is Y/N and William Hargrove.” 

“Billy.” You and your brother spoke in sync. Immediately correcting him. 

“My apologies, Y/n and Billy. There’s a couple of spots in the back for you.” Unfortunately the only spots left were at different tables, luckily they were tables adjacent to each other. You sat next to a boy who was practically drooling as he took you in. His black hair was to his shoulders and he held out his hand for you to take. 

“I’m-” He started but he never got the chance to finish his sentence.

“Piss off.” You grit through teeth and you feel Billy glare at the guy next to you before slinking back into his seat. If there was one thing Billy was good at, it was getting creeps to back off if you couldn’t. 

Mr. Blakes lecture droned on and you tuned it out completely, tapping your pencil on the desk mindlessly as the guy next to you blatantly stared at your curls. Eventually after learning about ionic bonds or something along those lines, the shrill sound of a bell ringing pierced your ears. Immediately you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you grabbed your backpack. 

A girl was handing out bright orange flyers in the doorway. Both you and Billy took one graciously. A badly drawn ghost and bottle of booze accompanied the words “Tina’s Halloween Bash” and it was telling everyone to “Come and Get Sheet Faced.”

“Hey.” She said with a wink towards Billy. “Be there.” 

 “Guess we have plans for tomorrow.” You grinned. It wouldn’t compare to any party you’d gone to in California, but free booze was free booze. Along with that, it was the perfect opportunity to get out of your house for the night. 

By lunch, the Hargrove siblings were the talk of the entire school. Spots at the table with the so-called popular kids were already reserved for them and Billy let you take your seat first. Turning the chair next to you around and straddling it. He leaned his chin on his fist as the people already sitting began to introduce themselves. 

There was Tina, the one throwing the party tonight. Tommy, was the one of two guys at the table and was obviously looking for a new leader, saying something about how the now King of Hawkins was whipped or whatever. Carol was his girlfriend, a girl with bright red hair not to be confused with Vicki who was currently eyeing Billy hungrily. There was also a man named “big Mike” who was staring straight at your chest.Your brother rolled an apple in your direction and you took a bite out of it, breaking Mike out of his trance and listening to the gossip of your new school. 

“Will you two be at Tina’s party tomorrow? It’s gonna be all the rage.” Carol asked, Tommy’s arm slung over her shoulder. 

“We might make an appearance.” You weren’t one to promise things, especially knowing that there was a chance one or both of you would be required to babysit Max, who probably already had plans to trick or treat anyways. You saw the Michael Myers mask and fake knife sitting on her bed yesterday as you moved things in and shut the door so Billy wouldn’t find it. Your brother knew you had a fear of horror movies and would most likely use it to his advantage at some point to scare the living hell out of you for a quick laugh.

“How are you liking Hawkins so far?” Tommy asked, puffing his chest out, like they were in some sort of competition. Like he could be superior to Billy. There was a sense of pride in the boy's voice, probably because he was the top dog around the place, then again there was no competition before either of you came around.

“It’s shit.” Billy said, twirling a cigarette lazily between his fingers. He wasn’t dumb enough to light it with teachers staring him down like a hawk at the edge of the cafeteria. 

“Oh yeah, it definitely is.” Tommy’s smile was wiped off of his face within a split second of Billy’s response. That gave you all the information that you needed to know about Tommy, he was a pushover and willing to bend over for anyone he deemed superior, if you weren’t he was a bully. 

“What’s it like in California?” Vicki asked, resting her head on her hands and batting her eyelashes towards Billy. Just like that, your position at the top of Hawkins High was claimed. 

_______

After school the next day, Billy was leaning against the Camaro, obviously annoyed that he was waiting for not only you, but Max. He was smoking a cigarette, watching as you conversed with the girls from the lunch table earlier. Obviously in no rush, he was growing irritated with you as more time went on. Max skated up to the car from the Middle School, and you looked at your brother watching you angrily. Obviously in a hurry to leave. 

“I’ll see you ladies tonight.” You said tossing your bag over your shoulder and approaching the Camaro. 

“You're late again and you’re skating home, you hear me?” Billy was telling Max as you got to the passenger side door. 

“Oh piss off Billy.” You said ruffling his mullet, knowing that would push his buttons even further. “She’s got a farther walk.” 

“Yeah and she still made it before you.” He mumbled, flicking his cigarette to the side. 

“She still made it before you.” You mocked in a high pitched voice getting in the front seat of the Camaro. “I was getting our plans for the night dipshit. Stop being a grouch.” 

He simply ignored you starting the engine and blaring Wango Tango through the speakers. Obviously annoyed. He sped off, going much faster than the speed limit on the backroads to your new house. You noticed he always took the back roads, probably because that meant you'd be home later and that was less time to deal with your father. 

“God this place is such a shithole.” You laughed pathetically looking out the windows at dead trees that had fallen to the ground. 

“It’s not that bad.” Max piped up from the backseat.

“No?” Billy asked, rolling down the windows of the speeding Camaro, and plugging his nostrils for dramatics. “MMMM. You smell that Max? That’s actually shit.”

“Cow shit.” You laughed, your curls blowing in the wind around your face.

“I don’t see any cows.” Max said, reaching in between the two of you to roll the windows up. 

“Clearly you haven’t met the highschool girls,” Billy said. 

“Please, you’re still gonna bang your way through the school.” You said smacking your brother on the shoulder. You knew him better than he knew himself. 

“So, what do you like it here now?” He asked the redheaded girl who was angrily staring out of the window.

“No.” She said defensively.

“Then why are you defending it?” You asked whipping around to look at the girl. She shrugged silently and looked once more out the window before replying. 

“I’m not.” She mumbled. 

“Sure sounds like it.” Billy spoke. It was unfair, the way you both seemed to gang up on her. The relationship you had with Max was a rocky one. When you were all introduced she was the definite outsider. Both you and Billy were entirely content that it would be just you and him against the world for the rest of your life, there was no room for someone to join that pact. Thus, Max sometimes fell victim to the way you and Billy seemed to bounce off of each other. 

“It’s just that we’re stuck here so,” She told you both. 

“You’re right, we’re stuck here. And whose fault is that?” Billy asked and there was not a doubt in your mind that this was about to be a famous Billy explosion. Especially after you heard Max mumble something that you couldn’t quite pick up. “What’d you say?” 

His attention was quickly going back and forth between the road and Max in the rear-view mirror. 

“Jesus Christ Billy, just focus on the damn road.” You interjected before he could start yelling. “Deflate your ego for just a damn second.” 

“Shut up Y/n.” He snapped and your eyes widened turning towards him angrily. “Don’t be a bitch.” 

“What did you just say?” You asked bewildered, your jaw set in a scowl.

“I told you to shut up.” He said. 

“No, uh-uh. What the fuck did you call me William.” You asked angrily. “Because I swear to fucking god if it starts with a B and rhymes with itch I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first.” He said snarkily, changing gears on the camaro and beginning to speed even faster down the street. The sudden change of force made you hit the back of your seat and cross your arms. You both knew you didn’t mean it but when your temper got this high there were no apologies coming any time soon, just rage filled screaming matches. 

“Oh yeah, here we go Mr. Fucking tough guy.” You said throwing your arms in the air with a laugh, you turned the music up louder. He hit his hand on the steering wheel to the beat and you noticed a group of kids on bikes and he only sped up faster. “Jesus Billy are you on a fucking warpath?” 

“Billy slow down.” Max warned from the back. 

“Oh are these your new hick friends?” 

“No I don’t know them!” 

“Guess you won’t care if I hit them then huh?” He spoke, turning around to look at the fear on her face and you laughed. “I get bonus points if I get them all in one go?” 

“No Billy, stop! It’s not funny.” Her panicked voice made you laugh loudly as Billy didn’t appease her at all, and only continued banging the steering wheel to the beat of the song as he looked back at her. “Billy slow down! Come on! Stop it! It’s not funny, stop it!”

As you came closer to the group of kids Max quickly launched herself at the steering wheel and swerved around them. Billy laughed maniacally as she did it matching your own. 

“Woo!” He yelled shrillely. “That was a close one huh Max?” Your adrenaline was pumping as you looked back at the kids who had peeled off into the grass seeking refuge from the speeding Camaro. Your brother’s laughter was louder than your own as he still continued to drum on the steering wheel the entire time it took to finally pull up to your house. 

As soon as you let her out, Max was the first one inside of the house and slammed the front door shut behind her. Luckily, your father’s vehicle wasn’t already parked in the front to complain about the noise that surely you or Billy would get blamed for. You only had a couple hours to get ready for the party tonight so you looked over your shoulder who was walking behind you. 

“I call shower!” You yelled and raced in the house before he could object, grabbing a towel from the linen closet and slamming the bathroom door shut before he even made it inside the house. 

______ Tina’s house was large, and sweaty teenage bodies filled every square inch of the interior and exterior. You had a drink that was most definitely vodka, fruit punch and more vodka. Already you were beginning to feel the effects of the drink in your body, everything seemed a lot funnier and Billy had pointed out fairly quickly that the whiskers drawn on with eyeliner were already smudged, to which you flipped him off and took another large gulp of your drink. 

Billy, as always was shirtless underneath his leather jacket leaving little to the imagination of the girls who were oogling him without remorse. Currently he was upside down in a keg-stand, chugging as much beer as he possibly could, the sound of Mötley Crue no doubt motivating him even further. 

“Fourty! Fourty-one! Fourty-two!” The crowd was cheering him on as he came down, spitting in the air and raining down beer on anyone who surrounded him, including you. 

“Yeah!” He screamed, loudly taking the cigarette you gladly handed to him. Before coming, the two of you had made a promise to stick close to each other, mostly to relieve any type of anxiety Billy would have about worrying about your safety if you weren’t in his line of sight. 

“We’ve got ourselves a new keg king!” Tommy yelled loudly following you and your brother inside the house like a puppy. The crowd surrounding you chanted his name like a mantra and you smiled wickedly knowing that there was no doubt anyone that would over take you both at this point in time. In a matter of 48 hours, the two of you had made Hawkin’s high your bitch.

“That’s how you do it Hawkins!” Billy yelled, taking a drag of his cigarette. “That’s how you do it!”

You passed off your cup to big Mike who was on your left shoulder. “Get me another drink will ya?” 

You danced your way through the living room, arms reaching for Billy’s cigarette as he held it above his head as he weaved through the crowd, pulling Tina’s ‘decorations” which consisted of toilet paper hung from the ceiling, down to wipe his mouth. Finally you snagged it and took a drag, smiling as he looked at you in annoyance. You’d seen that look many times before and only blew the smoke in his face. 

“Haven’t you had enough to drink yet?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Not enough to forget we’re in California!” You said as big Mike came from the kitchen with your drink in hand, you took one sip cringing at the taste. “Besides, this shit still tastes awful. That’s how you know I’m fine.”

“Alright just, slow down a bit okay?” He whispered, letting down his facade for just a second to be the older brother he always was. Even if he was only older by 6 and a half minutes. “Let’s try to be coherent for at least an hour more.”

“Yes sir!” You slurred and he rolled his eyes. 

“I see we’ve already failed that request.” He scoffed, grabbing your wrist and dragging you through the crowd once more. He took the cigarette out of your mouth and placed it between his lips. “Give me back my cigarette.” 

“It’s got my germs on it now.” You warned. 

“We’re twins, we share the same fucking DNA Y/n, we have the same germs.” 

“Oh yeah.” You laughed clutching your stomach tightly as you tried to regain composure. Once more, he dragged you up the stairs stopping in front of a boy in sunglasses. He stood next to a pretty girl, who was obviously annoyed with the interruption. 

“We’ve got ourselves a new keg king Harrington.” Tommy said, appearing over your shoulder to gloat Billy’s accomplishment.

 “Yeah, eat it Harrington!” Mike said from next to you. 

The girl accompanying Harrington rolled her eyes and walked away quickly disappearing into the crowd. 

“Better go follow your bitch.” You whispered, pointing to the girl who walked away. Billy and his posse laughed and Harrington took off his sunglasses to glare at all of you. Big Mike returned to your side, handing both you and Billy a cup full of punch. “Word on the street is that you’re whipped.” 

Without a word back, he followed the girl to where the large bowl of punch sat and you smirked. Your words proved to be right as he watched her make her way into the crowd after slamming her drink. Mimicking her, you did the same dragging Carol and Tina to come dance with you. 

“I love this song!” You screamed laughing hysterically as AC/DC blared on the speakers. Carol was equally as piss drunk as you were and sometime throughout the night her cat ears had gone missing. 

You weren’t sure how long you danced for, but you knew you were in need of another drink and made your way over to the punch bowl, filling your cup to the brim with red liquid. Steve and his girlfriend were in the middle of an argument about her having more to drink. You sipped yours, entertained as the arguing caused the girl to spill the liquid all over herself. 

“Party foul!” You yelled as the rest of the onlookers let out a collective ‘Ohhhh’ and downed your own drink as you saw Billy making his way towards you. You filled it up once more and set it on the counter. 

“Fucking hell, I left to piss for one minute and you disappeared.” He snapped. 

“Billy!” You cheered. “My song came on! I can’t believe you missed it, you shit head.” 

“Sorry kid.” He apologized but it was anything but sincere. “How much of that garbage have you had?”

“I don’t know, probably at least one or two” You slurred and your words hinted that it was anything but one or two. You picked up your cup once more. “I’m just trying to have fun Billy. I’m just trying to catch up to my friends, they said if you walk out with no help you’re doing it wrong and, and, and I agree. You need to catch up.”

“No, you need to chill.” Billy said glaring. You said nothing and only took a sip, there was no taste by this point and some tiny, very tiny, voice in the back of your mind said you should probably stop, another voice, a very loud one said you should annoy your twin at all costs and you smirked. “I know that look, don’t even think about it Y/n.” 

You laughed and instantly chugged the rest of your drink, red stained your face as you brought the cup down. 

“Happy now?” Billy asked. 

“Very.” You told him, beginning to wobble on your legs. He put two hands on your shoulders to steady you and you looked at him strangely. Your legs felt like they were giving out. “Fuck Billy-” 

You reached for your brother with weak arms, collapsing into him the same way you did the first time you got dumped freshman year. Your make up smeared on his chest, leaving black lines from your whiskers as your words only became more and more incoherent. He held you upright, leading you outside quickly. 

“Don’t feel-” You said, short breaths escaping your mouth. 

“I know. Just cooperate with me a little bit Y/n.” He was leading you towards the camaro but it felt miles away. Your vision was blurry and nothing around you felt right. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

“Trying too.” You mumbled as the passenger side door opened and you were placed inside. 

“Don’t puke in my car or I’ll kick your ass.” Billy warned, but it was an empty threat. Most he would do would be to make you clean it up. He eyed you with caution, watching your eyes stay wide with wonder looking at the streetlamp above you. 

“Why the fuck is the moon so close?” You asked, looking at your brother before letting your body fall forward and head drop onto his shoulder

“Because that would be a streetlamp, not the moon.” Billy said, turning the key to the camaro making the engine roar to life. “God you’ve never been this fucked up. Did you drink the same punch as me?”

“Yup.” You slurred, eyelids getting heavy as your body began to grow limp. “Big Mike hand delivered it to us, remember?” 

Billy took his hands off of the wheel immediately, lifting your body off of him by the shoulders. Your eyes were barely open and words were becoming less and less coherent as more time went on. 

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself before gently setting you down and taking the keys out of the ignition. “Fuck, fuck,fuck.” 

“Fuck is right.” You slurred once more. “Dad can’t see me like this Bill, please don’t let him, he can’t- fuck. He’ll kill me.” 

“Just stay here kid.” Billy said, getting out and slamming the door. “Don’t fucking leave this car, got it?” 

Crowds parted as Billy walked back into the party on a mission for blood. He found Big Mike talking to Tommy with a drink in his hand. 

“Hey Billy! Where’s Y/n?” Mike excitedly, reaching out to give the guy a hug. Billy said nothing as he grabbed Mike by the shirt and shoved him against the wall. 

“What the fuck did you do to my sister Mike?” He yelled, grabbing the attention of Tina and Carol who were nearby. 

“What the fuck man?” 

“You have less than a second to answer me or I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you.” He whispered in his ear causing the boy to shake. Already, a crowd was beginning to form around the two boys.  

“Nothing! I swear!” Mike said. “Get off of me man.” 

“Well if you swear, then I guess you’re telling the truth.” Billy said, shrugging and putting him down, beginning to turn away. “Except, did you know you look past me when you lie?” 

His knuckles hit Mike’s face with a crunch, and the boy was on the ground in less than a second. Billy on top punching him once more, he didn’t stop until Mike was pleading. 

“If you ever even think about my sister again, you’re dead.” He whispered into his ear. “Got it little man?” 

“I’m sorry!” Mike was crying on the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” 

Billy said nothing as he turned on his heel and left the party, finding you barely conscious in his car. He couldn’t go home, he knew that. If Neil found you in this condition you’d be dead, skipping curfew would have consequences but not as dire as coming home reeking of alcohol. He was afraid. You barely looked alive in the passenger seat of the Camaro as your eyes were half opened and you laid limp. He wasn’t sure what to do, waiting it out seemed like the best option so he decided to stop at a gas station, purchasing a couple waters and something solid in hopes of getting you to eat and filter everything out of your system. He found the bathroom on the side of the building, an idea sparking in his blond head. 

“You’re gonna hate me for this, but you’ll owe me big time Y/n.” He said, opening the door and leading you towards the bathroom. He placed you in front of the toilet and gently opened your mouth.

“I’m sorry” He muttered before sticking his fingers down your throat, forcing you to puke all of the contents of your stomach into the bowl before you. Green bile coated the toilet and you groaned falling back into your brother's chest. 

“Fuck, Billy why?” You asked, hiccuping as you regained your breath. 

“Just, trust me on that one.” He said handing you a water bottle. “Feel better?”

“Kind of. You’re not going to hold this against me will you?” He only laughed and shook his head.

“I think we need to forget this night ever happened.” Billy said, helping you lean over the toilet once more as you gagged. “And Y/n? Let me know if Big Mike gives you trouble.” 

“Noted.” You muttered. “You kicked his ass didn’t you.”

“Something like that.” Billy shrugged and held your hair back away from your face. “Let’s just say he won’t be coming around you anytime soon.” 

“If I ever see that slimy fucker-” 

“Don’t even worry about it, I took care of it.”

You liked this side of your brother. The one that was caring, even if the two of you fought like no other, you still loved each other endlessly. It was the two of you against the world and sometimes it felt like you only had each other. 

“Thank you Billy.” You said, finally sitting up on your own.

“It’s kinda my job, I am your older brother.” He said teasingly as the two of you walked back to the camaro. Your legs felt wobbly as he opened the door and you all but fell into your seat. 

“By like 30 seconds, hop off your high horse.” Billy laughed loudly and got into the driver's seat next to you.

“So, we’re already in trouble because it’s way past curfew.” He said. “Figured we just don’t go home.”

“Can we get food?” You asked, clutching on your stomach that still felt like there were waves inside of it. 

“Yeah, we can get food.”

[captainpygmy]

maybe tasm!peter parker hurt comfort fluff sort of thing for being anxious and quiet around him as a newly started couple and him just being superrrr reassuring and comforting about the matter :))) <3

tysm for ur request <3

“You’re quiet tonight,” Peter says.

You turn to him and realise how close he is, your shoulders pressed together where you’re sitting on his sofa.

He frowns at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” you say, the lie familiar on your lips.

His hand comes up to cup your face. His thumb pushes over your cheek and presses into the soft spot under your jaw. “Your pulse is racing.”

“Cheater,” you mutter.

He raises his hand and pushes light semi-circles into your skin with the pad of his thumb. “Sorry, bub.”

“It’s silly,” you admit eventually, caving under his worried gaze.

"It's not," he says, voice scratchy in the quietude of the room.

You shouldn't be worried. Peter, your shiny new boyfriend, had asked you over for movies and dinner. A completely normal and unassuming night in. But something about Peter always made you worry you were doing something wrong – not his fault, for sure, but still. He was so pretty and kind, and you didn't want to fuck anything up. Everything felt high stakes with him.

"I really like you," you start.

"I'd hope so," he says, dropping his hand to rest on your shoulder. "This might be awkward otherwise."

You smile at his attempt to lighten your mood. "I don't want to fuck up."

"Fuck up what?" he asks.

You stare at his shoulder. "Us. This."

"And how would you do that?" he asks. He sits up to block you in. You find it comforting rather than claustrophobic as his side turns, like he's protecting you from an invisible force.

"I don't know. Sorry, I'm being stupid."

"You're not. You're not being stupid. You can't… help how you feel."

He slides the hand from on top of your shoulder to behind your neck and pulls you in gently. You know he's offering a hug if you want it, and you do, though it's difficult at this angle. Peter encourages your leg on top of his so you're half in his lap and brings you in close, rubbing his arm up and down your side roughly. The pressure is nice, grounding.

"I'll tell you a secret."

You look up into his face, find him looking down with a softness in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I worry I'm gonna mess us up too."

"You do?"

"All the time." He looks like he's holding in a laugh. "But, you know, I forget about it sometimes."

"How do you forget?" you ask, and you exhale in a rush as you confess. "It's so loud. Sometimes I see you and I just- panic."

He sighs, purposefully blowing the exhale towards you to ruffle your hair.

"When you smile. Or when you laugh. When I say something that lights you up. I forget to be scared, because I can see you're happy. And I make you happy. You make me really, really happy, you know that?" His fingers clasp your hip and pull you in just a little closer. "I see you and it's like all my worry melts away."

"Peter, I'm sorry," you murmur.

"I didn't mean that you shouldn't worry when you see me," he corrects swiftly, "let's face it, I'm a worrying guy."

You nod in agreement. "You're always getting into trouble."

"And you're always here to patch me up. And I'll return the favour whenever you like, bub. You don't have to worry about us, I promise. And you don't have to be scared. I'm right here."

He kisses the crown of your head, tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger.

"Can we stay like this for a bit?" you ask quietly.

"Sure, bub. Whatever you want."

[captainpygmy]

hiii <3 if you're still taking requests what do you think of tasm!peter with a touch starved reader who's maybe been feeling a lil extra lonely <3

thanks for requesting :D

"You will never guess what I got at the store," Peter says, having let himself into your apartment, arms laden with grocery bags.

"What did you get?" you ask. You pat yourself on the back for that one. You aren’t sure how you'd even managed to open your mouth, let alone answer coherently. A numbness pervades your whole body.

"I got…" he sets the bags down on the kitchen counter and pulls out his esteemed purchase. "Toilet paper with puppies!"

Sure enough, the paper is embossed with little puppies. You stare at the roll in his hands for a moment before your eyes move to his hands, his long fingers. You trace the length of them, their knuckles, his fingernails. You want to hold his hand so badly the thought startles you, like a static shock.

Your cheap bar stool creaks underneath you. Peter notices your movement and squints at you, putting the puppy paper down gently on your countertop. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shake it off and jump down from the stool to peer into his bag of tricks. “Nothing. Watcha making?”

He hesitates before answering. “It’s just frozen pizzas. And cherry coke.”

“And puppy toilet paper,” you say, giving him your most award-winning smile. “Thanks, Peter.”

“Yeah, you're welcome, bub.” He sounds confused at your quizzical behaviour. You don’t blame him; you’re being very temperamental.

He messes with your old stove until it works — he’s always been better at masterminding its inner working than you have — and you both decide to play it safe and sit for the 12 minutes it takes to cook on the rickety bar stools bordering the opposite counter. You swivel on your chair, catching flashes of the kitchen, Peter, the living room, the kitchen, Peter, so on and so forth.

He reaches out to catch the lip of your spinning chair and your whole body yanks. When he steadies you, hand on the curve of your hip, you balk. He notices your expression and moves his hand up, in line with your navel. There’s a layer of fabric between his hand and your skin, and yet you swear you can feel the lines of his skin on your skin, brushing over. It’s a very raw feeling.

“What, do you have a bruise?” he asks, pulling his hand away.

“No, I’m fine.”

“You looked like I just hurt you.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry?” he asks probingly.

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“You winced.”

You look down at your thighs pressed together and frown. He’s so perceptive, more perceptive than you give him credit for, and it’s been a week since you last saw him, and nobody else ever touches you. It’s only him, only Peter that ever wants to hug you and hold your hand and throw his legs over yours. When he’s busy, you miss him, your body misses his touch.

“Do you ever want something so badly it kind of hurts you?” you ask him.

He sucks on his bottom lip, a sad frown taking up residence on his pretty face. It’s almost like he’s concentrating, working out one of his equations.

“You want a hug?” he asks eventually.

You stare resolutely at your knees, embarrassed at being read for filth so quickly.

“Hey, come here,” he says, tugging at your wrist. “Come on, first ones free.”

You reluctantly climb down from your chair to stand in front of him. He takes your hands into his lap and looks you over. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since the last time I saw you,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of your hands. They burn under his touch.

“That’s okay,” you say, everything sounding like it’s underwater.

“But you’re lonely,” he says plainly. No soft touch but no cruel spin. He says the truth as it is.

“Sometimes,” you admit, voice taking on a pitiful wobbly quality that has you cringing. His hands move to your wrists, pressing into your pulse.

“Alright, dolly, bring it in. My arms yearn for you,” he says dramatically, and there’s the Peter you’re more familiar with.

He works his hands under your arms, touch slow and gently as he folds you into his embrace, pulling you between his open thighs. Your head and arms fit over his shoulders, crossing at the wrists so your hands fit in the space between his broad shoulders.

The oven heaves. Your washing machine in the bathroom whirs quietly, its vibrations rivering out through the floor. There’s a rustling sound as the breeze from the open window kicks aside the parched leaves of your potted plant. None of this seems as loud or as distracting as the sound of Peter’s hands running over your shirt, the soft shushing of cotton under his touch. You readjust your arms to press your face into his neck, breathing in his smell and his sounds, all the small things about him that you miss when he’s not around. Already, your body is relaxing, decompressing, like the loneliness is being eased out of you with each inhale, each passing motion of his big, warm hands.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me to offer?” he asks. “If you want to touch me, you can.”

“It feels like my skin goes numb,” you confess. Your words are muffled in his neck, your cheek pressed into his shirt's neckline.

He brings a hand up to the back of your head, almost cradling. It makes you want to cry. “We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? You need touch. You need contact. I’m more than happy to be your dealer, bub.”

He pulls your head back, encouraging you to look him in the eyes. You’re so close you can see flecks of dark, dark brown that decorate his irises. “Don’t let it get this bad.”

“I won’t,” you say.

“You do, though.”

He slides his hand from the back of your head to the front, thumb pressing into your soft cheek, fingers hooked behind your ears.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing things. Especially needing things from me. Understand?”

You nod, a little dazed by his proximity, by his attention and by his voice, warm and smooth and sweet like a spoonful of honey dissolving into a hot cup of tea. It soothes much the same.

He rubs semi circles into your cheek and you lean into his touch indulgently. When he finally pulls away, the hand on the small of your back leaves a brand that you feel all night.

[captainpygmy]

Can we get a part 2 of a slashers with an s/o who gets flustered when they kiss? Pleaase and thnak you

Of course you can sweet anon. I loved writing that and I love these men. I still get so stupid when reading these fics and seeing my fictional boyfriends. I love this idea and I'll gladly write more of it for you :) Side note I kept thinking about chop top talking about stretch being red faced and I just can’t handle that. 

Includes: Brahms Heelshire, Billy Lenz, Billy Loomis and Lester Sinclair 

Warnings: Strong language but nothing else

Brahms Heelshire

When you first kiss his mask lips he’ll wonder why you get so red in the face and giggly. “Do you like me that much Y/N?” 

It’s good he knows you get this way because you like him so much and not because you’re making fun of him. 

When you have a real kiss you’ll finally see that Brahms is kinda laughing at how giggly and flustered you get. He is really flattered that you get this stupid over a simple little kiss. 

Billy Lenz

He won’t get why your blushing or laughing but he’ll go along with it. He’ll giggle too and act as stupid as you. You’ll have to explain to him that you’re acting this way because you find him really hot. He’ll go into a deep thought for a good five minutes processing this. 

He’ll tease you a little about it, he might like poke at your stomach in a playful little way. “Pretty piggy really likes Billy! Pretty piggy loves Billy!” 

He might forget that you get all giggly and blushy after you kiss so he’ll ask you about why you get like that then remember why. 

Billy Loomis

Oh he’s gonna tease you so hard about it. He won’t let you hear the end of it and if that makes you get even more giggly and blushy he’ll start to laugh too. 

He loves showing you off to everyone and being a possesive little shit so if he gets the vibe someone else is trying to get with you he’ll let them know to back off by giving you a kiss. 

If you pretend to be mad at him and he can see through your bull shit he’ll give you a little kiss if you let him and smile as he watches that act drop and he sees you go back to being super flustered and stupid. 

Lester Sinclair 

He low key gets the same way the first couple of times you two kiss. He’s never had a partner before so you’ll probably be his first kiss. But he’ll understand your reaction and you two can sit there laughing softly and going red in the face. 

He’ll avoid kissing you in front of his brothers for your own sake. Mostly so they don’t make comments about it also so you don’t embarass yourself. 

He’ll be a little surprised you still get this way about him later into the relationship but he won’t mind, it just means you still love him a lot. 

[captainpygmy]

I Know That Voice

PAIRING: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

CONTENT: some douchebag and a spider, comedy and major fluff

NOTES: while I was trying to think of ideas I thought, what if peter’s best friend just wasn’t a total idiot and actually recognized his voice when they met spider-man? what would that be like? so this is what came out of it. I thought it was really funny, hope you enjoy! last fic of 2021 :)

“who knows maybe he’s like, a really ugly dude with a receding hairline or something-”

peter bursts out laughing, shaking so hard he clutches his hand to his chest.

“you seriously believe that’s what spider-man looks like?” he wheezes.

“no- no! I didn’t say that’s what I think he looks like, I just said that could be a possibility!” you laugh. 

an hour ago when you came over to peter’s house to study, you had every intention to get straight down to business and start the project you two have together that’s due in a week from now. which was also assigned a week ago. doing projects with your best friend are always difficult, but you guys always manage to get a good grade in the end, since you are the two smartest in the grade, maybe aside from your other friend gwen. but when you mentioned to peter that you were 99% sure spider-man waved at you yesterday, it’s been a whole discussion on what you think he looks like. 

“who knows! he could also have no hair, or really bleached hair! or maybe he dresses like a frat boy everyday- or he is a frat boy! just because he’s a hero doesn’t mean he automatically has great fashion sense-” you ramble. 

Keep reading

[captainpygmy]

hiya Anthony! if it's okay, could i ask for jolyne cujoh x plus size female (or gender neutral i don't mind) Reader? i'm curious how she would be like in a relationship with someone who's different from her when it comes to size :>

Jolyne Cujoh with a Plus Size! Gender-neutral! S/o

Of course! But a quick reminder that I don't write fem readers! Only Male/Masc and Gender Neutral readers ! <33

- Jolyne loves you so much, she isn't one to judge looks!

- When she first saw you she couldn't stop staring she thought you were so cute dhdjsksn

- For a while you avoided her and her gaze, her reputation for being a violent prisoner gets around a lot

- She'd have to have Ermes play wingwomen to get you both talking 💀

- That or you overheard F.F. and Jolyne talking and Foo looked over, pointed in your direction and said "Ooh! So that's Y/n! You're right, they are kind of cute."

- Onc you both start dating, she loves having you with her

- Always holding your hand and stealing kisses from you whenever the guards aren't looking

- She's always going to be lounging on you, whether she's using your softer arms as pillows or using your thighs as a pillow

- She has no filter, she'll regularly compliment you and will say anything on her mind

- She once told you that she'd let you crush her with your thighs once and immediately died of embarrassment afterwards

- Like yea she has no filter, but even she didn't pay any mind to it as she said it, only catching her words after it left her mouth

- That's how you know her attraction is genuine lmao

- You tease her immensely and she'll literally just hide in your chest so you won't see her blush

- Did I mention she loves your chest?

- Regardless of identity or chest size, she's in love dvdjdbdj

- Prison hard and cold,,,Chubby cutie tits warm and soft

- Lord help anyone who talks shit about you and your appearance

- Jolyne doesn't take that kind of slander lightly and will

- Like at most she'll mess with the person a bit, using Stone Free to make them trip and look like an utter buffoon until they apologize to you

- Ik I don't like to focus too much on an insecure reader, but literally just imagining Jolyne being the type of person to kiss the areas you say you're insecure about to prove to you how much she loves all of you

- Like?? Oh my god

- Don't like your tummy? Kith. Feeling down about your face or double chin? Kisses you multiple times until you get flustered and giggly

- She loves her fat s/o so much, she's feels so lucky to have you <33

[captainpygmy]

I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN' YOU. eddie munson.

summary: the four times eddie knew he was a goner and the one time he told you.

warnings: no spoilers! don’t worry, you’re safe here. profanities. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed <3

word count: 5.1k

i. the first time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he found out that you love mötley crüe. 

eddie knows his presence is hard to miss. aside from his wild hair and clothing choices, which apparently do not fit the social standards, he makes it exceptionally difficult for people to ignore him. 

and yet, on a particular, normal, chilly friday in the school field, you effortlessly grab his attention. you didn’t need crazy hair or seeking clothes or loud eccentric speeches on top of a cafeteria table. you’re just… sitting there with a frown on your face and eddie thinks…

eddie can’t think. his mind draws blank as he continues to stare at you.

so like dominoes, his abrupt stop results in the rest of the hellfire club bumping into him, which causes a streak of groans and complaints, but eddie pays them no mind because as if his legs have a mind of their own, they bring him right to you. “carry on without me, my little sheep, destiny awaits!”

you groan in annoyance, slamming your hand onto your malfunctioning walkman. “stupid, stupid, little shi-”

“y’know, i don’t think mauling the poor thing will make it work.” 

you look up at the voice with a glare, your face softens just a bit after seeing it was eddie, but the glare prevails nevertheless, still frustrated with your walkman.

“i mean, sure, i guess that could make it work, too,” eddie shrugs, hopping on top of the picnic table instead of sitting on the benches like a normal person.

“it will work,” you grit your teeth, hitting the side of the device as it did nothing to fix the distorted voice of vince neil. “it just needs a bit of tough love.”

after watching you for a few more minutes with an amused smile, eddie snatches it out of your hands, convinced that you would break it if it doesn’t revive the next second. he ignores your objections as he opens his black metal lunchbox.

“it’s not a lunchbox,” he absentmindedly retorts to your murmur as he goes through his things, silently muttering a quiet no, not this, nope, what the hell is this? and finally, aha!

he raises a mini screwdriver before you as if it will magically take your problems away. “this, my lady, will magically take your problems away.”

huh. 

you hesitantly watch as eddie pops open your walkman, taking out the mixtape to find the tape itself burst out of its case. he tinkers and meddles with it carefully, doing wonders as he manually rewinds it. 

you use his current distraction to take a good look at him. you’ve seen him around the school; in class, in the hallways, at the cafeteria, but you’ve never crossed the borders of his personal bubble or actually spoken to him until now.

he isn’t a bad sight to see. 

his hair, although gone rogue, looks so soft that you physically have to restrain yourself from touching it. he has tattoos inked on his skin, slightly covered by his hellfire shirt as if teasing you and leaving you wanting to see more. beautiful silver rings graced his fingers making you want to study each intricate detail that embellished the jewelry.

his tongue is poking out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before. he has dimples piercing his cheeks and the lightest of freckles sprinkled over his face, only noticeable if kissed under the sun.

all things considered, eddie munson is a sight for sore eyes.

“are you done staring, sweetheart?” eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “if you’d like, i can pose for you on this table.”

you were too deep in your reveries that you didn’t notice he was done. you blink up at him and scoff. “shut up, i wasn’t staring.”

“it’s fine, y’know, it’s normal to stare at pretty things.” he encourages you, satirically playing with his hair. “especially if you’re one of those connoisseurs of art.”

“wow, someone learned a new word today.” you praise him sarcastically.

“now, now, y/n, is that a way to treat someone who just fixed your lil walkman?” eddie chastises, grabbing your headphones from your neck and putting it on his ears. “what were you listening to anyway?”

he gives it a few seconds before the familiar music comes in. he whips his head towards you with a slack jaw. he winces, his hand coming in contact with his neck, massaging the pain from snapping his head towards you too fast.

… i've been a poet always tongue in cheek,

i've seen some scenes man you'd never believe,

and like a supercharged rocket ride,

you know they'd have gasoline if they had the time.

“you- you listen to mötley crüe!” eddie blurts out, standing on the picnic table and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “you’re one of us!”

“shut up!” you pull him back down with a yank. you can still hear angela blasting through your headphones. you look at him with a sigh before muttering. “i love mötley crüe.”

eddie lets out a choked laugh, jumping off the table and squishing your cheeks with his hands. “you’re a cute little metal freak!”

“shut up, munson! you better get your hands off my face or so help me god.”

it came out as gibberish but the point came across. 

“you say ‘shut up’ too much, is that your favorite word?” eddie calls into question, leaning closer to you with a roguish grin. his gaze flickers down to your pouting lips before staring straight into your eyes. “i can teach you more ways to shut me up, y’know?”

“scout’s honor that it’s even more efficacious than the words itself.” he winks at you before grabbing his lunchbox, leaving you bewildered and baffled beyond belief. mötley crüe did not do anything to blur the forming thoughts in your head.

that was strike one for eddie munson.

ii. the second time eddie knew he was a goner was when… you knocked someone out cold with a box of frozen waffles.

you shouldn’t have been out at an ungodly hour, quite frankly, but you really, really, wanted some eggos. so clad in sweats and an oversized shirt, you walk out of bradley’s big buy with three boxes of mini waffles in hand.

and as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with only one interaction, you hear eddie munson’s voice. “hey, come on, man. you’ve been my client for over a year now and you’re only doubting me now?”

“we talked about fifteen grams, munson, so i’m expecting fifteen grams.” 

eddie sighs, rubbing his tired face with his hand. they’ve been going back and forth and he was starting to get annoyed. he wasn’t even supposed to be dealing right now, but when money calls, you answer it. 

“look, man. it’s fifteen. if you don’t believe me, give me the money, go find a weighing scale, and weigh your shit. it’s fifteen grams.” he says, grabbing his lunchbox, but just as he wrapped his fingers on the handle, he gets shoved to the ground, his things crashing with him, skin scratched from catching himself on the rough pavement.

motherfucker.

“hey!” you didn’t want to. you really didn’t want to, but before you can think twice, you get in between eddie and the ridiculously tall buff guy.

you should really start thinking twice.

said guy, although high as a kite, looks at the box of eggos on the floor and back at you. you had thrown a box of waffles at his head.

“take your fifteen grams and leave,” you order calmly, ignoring the whispers of objections of eddie, who immediately stands up at lightspeed, startled by your sudden presence.

“i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and your little druggy friend, a’ight?” he sneers, pushing you aside to grab eddie by his shirt. “besides, the fuck do you know about packing shit right?”

“i know how to pack a punch, for starters.”

you didn’t give him or eddie to process your words before, CRACK! your fist comes in contact with his nose — a sickening crunch and a cry had them both freezing, well, except for the junkie clutching his nose.

“you bitch!” 

with the throbbing pain of your knuckles, you could only whack him across his face with the box of waffles in your hand as he leaped to get you. 

eddie, still frozen in his spot, can only watch in both horror and amazement as the guy gets knocked out cold, face kissing the sidewalk. 

“holy shit…”

“how much did he owe you?” you huff, clutching your victimized hand as you stand over the guy. 

“twenty.” he blinks.

you shrug, digging a hand in the jean pocket of the junkie and placing the crumpled bills in eddie’s hand. “twenty-five for being a shithead.”

eddie took you out for some ice cream treat after that.

“remind me to never get on your nerves, you scare me,” he said, but there was no real fear behind his words, just a twinge of wonder in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.

you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to, so you just grinned at him before taking a scoop out of his ice cream.

and at that moment, under the moonlight with frozen waffles aiding your knuckles and discarded ice cream cups on top of his van, eddie just knew that you would stick around. 

and the rest was history.

that was strike two for eddie munson.

iii. the third time eddie knew he was a goner was when… traces of you were slowly starting to bleed into his life, and he didn’t mind.

“is this… MADONNA?”

eddie snaps his head towards the curly-headed boy in his passenger seat, eyes widening at the sight of the manifold of mixtapes that sits on dustin’s lap.

he splutters incoherent excuses as he chucks them back into his glovebox, a hand still on the wheel as he tries to keep the van steady. 

dustin watches in amusement as eddie fumbles with the mixtape that fell from his grasp. he snatches it out of his mentor’s hand and snickers, “wow, abba, too? didn’t know you were such a pioneer of music, eddie.”

eddie thwacks him with the d&d gazette before turning his eyes back on the road. “those aren’t mine.”

it was his. you left it for him.

dustin squints his eyes at his friend as if staring at him like that will force him to tell the truth, and it almost did, but thankfully, he chooses to go through the mixtape-filled glovebox again instead.

you brought half of your mixtapes with you when eddie had asked you to accompany him on a spontaneous road trip out of town one day. he always looks back to that moment.

you were passionately talking about the songs that graced your diverse music taste, hands animatedly moving around as words spew out of your mouth every millisecond. he understood every single thing you said, though.

just because you love mötley crüe doesn’t mean you don’t love starship. you love kiss but you also love the beatles. you love metallica but you also love bee gees, and maybe he was starting to like it, too. 

if you ask eddie, he’ll choose cyndi lauper’s time after time as his slow dance song. absolutely irrelevant yet very relevant.

“why the hell are you smiling like a crazy man?” dustin pokes his cheeks, effectively snapping him out of his daydream.

eddie slaps his hands away from his face.

aside from mixtapes in his glovebox, eddie also has a special drawer with the clothes you often leave at his house, and with the best detergent he has – a discounted brand from a dollar store – he voluntarily washes it for you to wear next time.

 “did… did you wash my clothes?” he remembers you asking the first time.

he turns away from his notebook to look at you. “uh, yeah. you left some of your stuff here and i decided to include it with mine last wash day.”

“oh,” you beam, pulling the material to your nose and breathing it in. “thanks, babe.”

eddie ignores the warmth of his cheeks and goes back to doodling in his notebook. “‘course, would you like me to wear a maid outfit while i’m at it next time?”

you laugh. “i’d like that very much.”

you bring the soft fabric back to your nose, it smells just like him.

you start leaving more clothes in his room after that.

that was strike three for eddie munson.

iv. the fourth time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he wanted to be the best version of himself whenever you’re around.

“okay, so i have a bag of those honeycomb cereal you like, some pringles, juice boxes, pints of ice cream…”

as you continue to list off the snacks you brought for the d&d campaign with the boys, eddie leans forward to buckle your seatbelt, letting you catch a whiff of his cologne. he tugs it twice to make sure it’s fastened properly. “safety first.”

you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”

“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”

“what, common road safety?” you snort. “do tell, kind sir, what would the great eddie munson be known for?”

“you don’t know?” he scoffs in mock disbelief. “i’m an evil self-proclaimed attention whore – i’m known for a lot of things, sweetheart.”

“speaking of being an attention whore,” you gravitate towards him to sniff him again. “are you wearing a new perfume, munson?”

“sit back down, dumbass! and it’s cologne, not perfume.”

“same shit. are you trying to impress someone?” you tease, settling down back in your seat before letting out an overdramatic gasp. “is it dustin? is it because he’s been hanging out with steve the past week?”

“what? no!” he wavers for a moment before sniffing himself. “why? does it smell bad?”

you laugh. “no, no. i actually like it better than your old one.”

“good, i bought it especially for you.” he winks, turning the volume of the music up before you can even reply.

“i can’t believe erica rolled a d20!” eddie exclaims, packing up the boards.

“and twice,” you agree. 

as usual, you and eddie stayed back after the campaign, ushering the kids — and gareth and the group — out of the room as soon as you heard the distant rumble of the sky. you knew they’d be biking home, so you asked them to leave early, much to your best friend’s displeasure.

you pick up the empty chip bags and discarded juice boxes, prolonging the chat you’re having with eddie.

mid-conversation, you lean against his throne, garbage bag in your hands. he was talking animatedly and you’re not quite sure what he’s even talking about anymore.

the lights of the room give him a glow that makes your heart beam. the perfect combination of green, orange, and blue; it makes him look like a fallen angel. a devil in disguise. the right fusion of both.

his eyes are soft, it’s kind. his smile is, too. everything about him is. he doesn’t show anyone, but you always get the opportunity to see a part of him that makes you fall in love with him even more.

“…and then just as i was about to dream of rubbing their loss in their puny little faces — she slaps me with a crit hit! that’s twice!”

“yeah,” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips. you push yourself off the chair and start helping him around the room. “maybe it’s a sign that you’re getting a bit rusty, buzz.”

“drop it with the nickname! it’s been years and i was only forced to have it shaved after stupid anthony chopped my hair nasty in history.”

you double down in laughter. “and wayne has been so gracious enough to show me the pictures.”

eddie glares at you before running towards you. you only advance two steps away from him before he catches you from behind and pulls you against him.

“salvage yourself, you insolent little minx.”

“no! i shan’t yield!”

giggles escape both of your lips, sounds slowly getting muffled by the drops of rain starting to patter one by one, making you and eddie stop in your tracks.

you exchange wide-eyed glances before hurrying with the packing.

you run out of the building, shoes splashing over the formed puddles, you didn’t even notice eddie shrug his jacket off to shield both of you from the rain. 

a few meters from his van, you pull away from him and let the water hit you, dampening your clothes all within a second. 

“what the hell are you doing?” eddie shouts over the loud pour.

“come on!” you pull him towards you, cold hands grasping his warm ones, you dance in the rain.

eddie watches you in disbelief, though there’s a smile on his face. “fuck it,” he mutters. “wait here.”

he runs to his van, almost slipping on the wet ground. “i’m okay!”

“idiot.” you snort.

eddie opens the door to the passenger seat and opens the glovebox. he grabs a random mixtape and fumbles to put it in the player, only then realizing that he didn’t even start the van. 

a minute or two later of waiting, you hear a bees gees song blast from eddie’s van. 

“come on, baby,” he whoops, grabbing your hands as he starts shimmying. “let’s dance!”

you let out a blissful laugh as he twirls you around. you jump around in the puddles, soaked clothes slightly weighing you down from being drenched. you attempt to twirl eddie around, too, which was a struggle due to his height.

he sings along to the song and you gasp in surprise. “you know this song?”

“do i- do i know this song?” he repeats in incredulity. “of course, i do! i’m in-”

adrenaline getting to his head, eddie realizes what he was about to say so he rectifies it. “you only sing it every second of the day. that damn song is engraved in my head!”

he pulls you back against him with a grin, a hand intertwined with yours and another supporting your back. he dips you, and you yelp in surprise.

the both of you are panting from all the dancing, but the smiles never left your face. you stare at his face, he stares at yours. you tuck a wet strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his jaw. he has a light stubble.

his eyes flicker to your lips, you do the same.

should i kiss him? should i not kiss him?

the loud boom of the thunder makes the decision for the two of you. the sound startles both of you, resulting in jumping away from each other faster than the next flash of lightning.

“we should head home if we still want to have this movie marathon,”

“yeah.”

eddie goes over his thoughts for a moment as you adjust the heater of the van. he recollects the resolution he made earlier, pondering over the idea of being the best version of himself though he already feels like he became it the first time he met you. how can one become the best-est best version of themselves?

that was strike four for eddie munson. 

but for you… you lost count of how many it’s been because every day with eddie adds a tally to your strikes.

v. the time eddie tells you how he’s a goner for you.

“harrington? fucking harrington?”

“it’s a friendly date, buzz,” you point out, hand steady as you do your eyeliner in his bedroom mirror.

“with harrington?” he stresses, his own hands tugging at his brown locks.

“yes, eddie.” you sigh, it’s been a repetitive back and forth. “it’s not a date date. it’s friendly, as i said. robin will be there.”

he sits up against the wall, lips moving before his brain can process his words. “well, if buckley’s gonna be there then what else does he want with you?”

you pause, dropping your hand to look at him. “okay, ouch.”

“no, i-” he groans dramatically into his hands. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i don’t understand why you have to spend a perfectly great night with harrington-”

“and robin.”

“-and robin, when you can just spend it with me.” eddie pouts. he sounds pathetic, he knows, but he’s jealous. what if you decide to leave him for steve? – and although he understands; it’s steve harrington, for god’s sake. he would, too, if he can – life would have no other purpose for him if you do.

“aww,” you mimic his pout, walking over to him to pat his cheeks. “don’t worry, hotshot, you’re still my favorite boy.”

“whatever,” he swats your hands away, though the grin tugging at the corner of his lips persists. he takes his time admiring you properly. you looked gorgeous, as always.

“c’mon, you big baby,” you protested. “robin will be there! plus, you can always come wi-”

“well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaims, leaping towards the door clad in his hellfire shirt and boxers. “let’s go! we better get goi-”

you throw his jeans at him. “for your modesty.”

eddie was glad he came along. he looks at you with clear fondness, watching as your eyes light up like a child on christmas day. you jump in excitement, dragging him into the fair. 

“hey, you made it!” steve jogs towards you, but then his eyes flicker to your company. “…and munson.”

“harrington,” eddie grins, a hint of mischief in the glint of his smile as he bows to him.

you roll your eyes at them. “where’s robin?”

“right here, lovebug,” she smiles, offering you a pink cotton candy as she takes a bite off the blue one. steve’s mouth slowly falls slack in bewilderment.

“aww, my favorite,” you pout your lips as you clink your sweets like glasses of wine. 

“that’s mine!”

“buy your own cotton candy, dingus,”

“you paid for those with my money.”

eddie pays them no mind as they continue to bicker. he snatches a piece of cotton candy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “i see a kissing booth we can go to… the marriage booth, too, maybe?”

“stop,” you smack his arm. “let’s start with the basketball — eddie, they’ve got those big teddy bears!”

“well, the night is young, sweetheart,”

the night is young, indeed. you go around the fair with the group, steve has the giant teddy bear propped on his shoulders as if it was his child — “he is!” he argued. “his name is harry harrington.”

“harry harrington?” you had asked in incredulity. “that’s a shit name, steve!”

he gasped in mock offense, bringing the bear down to cover its ears. “don’t listen to her, harry, she’s just jealous you aren’t hers.”

eddie’s jealous he isn’t yours, too, but he wasn’t going to say that. 

you felt as if you’ve managed to go through every single booth but according to the map robin had somehow snatched, there were more than half of it you have yet to explore.

“c’mon, there’s a ball toss over there,” eddie says, grabbing your arm to drag you away from steve. “gonna win you that giant fucking elephant.”

although as soon as you stop by before it, eddie does a double-take. “six dollars?”

“six dollars.” the merchant confirms.

he looks at you and whispers in disbelief. “six dollars?”

you shrug at him, letting out a chuckle at his expression. “capitalism, baby,”

eddie sighs. he’s glad he brought his wallet with him. he’s willing to spend all of his income if it meant getting you that elephant — and he will.

“we don’t have to, you know,” you reassure him, eyeing him as he reaches out for the dollars. “there’s still a lot of booths we can go to.”

“nah, i’m getting you that elephant.” he slams the money on the counter. the merchant smirks. three balls.

eddie grabs one and exhales. “wish me luck.”

he throws the ball, and again, and then again. and then he slams more money onto the counter, and then again, and again. 

his aim’s good, but not enough to knock all the cans down. steve and robin managed to do a round before returning to the both of you with corndogs in hand.

with his promise of a last round, he sighs at the sight of what’s left of the standing cans. he gives you the last ball.

“are you sure?” you hesitate.

“do the honors, my lady,” eddie smiles, eyes so soft that subtle crinkles show at the corners. 

and with a swift throw, you somehow manage to knock down all of the cans. you and eddie whoop in excitement, jumping up and down as the merchant sighs exasperatedly, grabbing your oversized prize.

“oh my god,” you whisper, hugging the elephant to your chest. “it’s so fluffy!”

eddie looks at you with a dopey lovesick smile. maybe it was the sparkling fairy lights overhead, or the distant music playing, or maybe it was because you’re practically bouncing off the balls of your feet, a giddy smile adorning your lips… or maybe it was because eddie cannot take it any longer so he says, “i’m in love with you.”

you falter for a bit, uncertain if you heard him correctly. “what?”

and steve, who had initially asked you on a date — although as friendly as he claims — leans against the wooden pillar, face contorting in realization, lips forming into an unmistakable o as he grasps what is happening.

robin grins, a quiet finally! unleashing from her lips. to give you two some privacy, well, as private as a conversation in a public place can be, she drags steve to a very friendly competition of high strikers. steve lets her, sending eddie an encouraging thumbs up. 

“i-i’m in love with you,” eddie repeats, voice wavering at your blank expression. he couldn’t read you and it’s making him anxious. “i’m so terribly and undeniably in love with you – i knew i did the moment you said you love mötley crüe.”

you let yourself feel all the emotions bursting in all at once. he likes you. eddie munson likes you, so you ask stupidly, “are you sure?”

eddie scoffs a laugh. “am i- am i sure? are you asking me if i’m sure about my own feelings?”

you shrug.

he looks at you before breaking into a run without another word.

“eddie, where are you going?” you call out frantically. 

eddie eyes the haystacks in the center of the park and clumsily mounts on them and nearly falls. he catches himself before he can tumble down. his eyes flicker to yours as he cups his hands over his mouth. “fair people of hawkins, i have an announcement to make!”

“what is he doing?” steve asks as he and robin appear from beside you. 

“i have no idea.”

some people stop by to watch, some go on with whatever it is they were doing, and you just stand where you’re planted, unsure of what he’s about to do and what you’re supposed to do.

“i, eddie munson, a self-proclaimed attention whore, have something very important to say.” he starts – “well, get on with it now!” a guy exclaims. eddie ignores him – “i am in love with y/n l/n. i’ve been in love with her since i found out she loves metal, i’ve fallen for her since she knocked a guy out cold with frozen waffles–”

“frozen waffles?” robin questions.

“– i fell for her even harder when she introduced me to madonna –  that’s right, i love madonna! but most importantly, i knew i was a goner when i wanted to become the best version of myself for her. i wanted to become the person she deserves because i am in love with you, y/n, always have.”

you soften and the world disappears around you; it was just you and him. there is an ache in your chest, but not because of heartbreak, it’s because it feels as if it will burst out of your chest out of love. 

“we can’t help who we fall for,” eddie breathes out, walking down the stack. “but honestly, i’m glad it’s you because there’s no one else in this world whom i would love to love if it’s not you.”

you shove the elephant in steve’s hold and walk straight to eddie. 

he sends you a small smile, arms extended. when you’re a step closer, he whispers. “i’m sorry, i just had to-”

“shut up,” you command, pulling him in for a heated kiss, fingers getting lost and tangled in his hair, his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, no gap left unfilled.

your lips dance a fast-paced song, it’s all but intense and passionate – a hint of eagerness and the satisfaction of longing. you forget that it wasn’t just the two of you, that there was a crowd watching you both kiss. you can hear the faint coos of the moms by the corner.

“get a room!” a guy barks out. simultaneously, you and eddie flipped him off but the kiss decelerates into soft and sensual, a contrast to the shared feverish one, now easing up to the feeling of content and delicate love.

you pull away a second later, forehead touching his as you don’t dare to open your eyes yet. “i’m in love with you, too, if it’s not obvious yet.”

“well, i should hope so,” eddie laughs. he gives you a quick peck on the lips before fixing you with a teasing grin. “how about that marriage booth now, sweetheart?”

“take me out on a date first, loverboy.” you interlace your hand with his as you walk away from the spotlight.

“how about a kiss on top of the ferris wheel?” he proposes instead.

“sap,” you scrunch your nose up with a smile. “but i’m not opposed to the idea.”

that was strike ??? for you and eddie.

“just to let you all know, i am not going to sit next to steve on the ferris wheel.”

“what do you mean? i’m an amazing ferris wheel companion.”

“would you like to get shoved off the seat once we’re on top?”

“... how about the bumper cars?”

“deal.”

[captainpygmy]

what about reader tispy or high at a party and tellin steve how pretty he is and he doesn't know how to handle it?

steve versus a very drunk and slightly high reader who really likes his face (warnings for implied drinking and r eating a weed brownie <3)

Steve takes in your drunken state with something close to horror, remembering exactly how this scenario had panned out for him the last time. You’re sitting on the arm of somebody’s sofa giggling down at your hands, clearly tipsy, your head lifting up slowly when he calls your name. 

“Stevie,” you say. He can’t gauge any one emotion from your voice. 

“Hey, what happened? I was only gone for ten minutes. The bathroom's an en-suite, by the way.” His bitterness over having to search the upstairs three separate times for a toilet is obvious. "D'you drink a whole fish bowl by yourself?"

You take the bottom of his jacket in your hand and pull him towards you, wrapping your arms around his thighs. He dips his chin to his chest to take you in, looking down at your glassy-eyed expression with some sympathy and more apprehension. 

“Are you okay?” he asks nervously. 

“I’m really stupid, Steve. When we first got here and I went to speak to Donna, like an hour ago? At the snack table? I had one of her brownies.”

Oh! You’re high. Of course you are. The weed must’ve just kicked in while he was gone. And then, “Hey, why were you at the snack table? You told me you weren’t hungry.”

You shove your face into his abdomen and sigh. “I lied, Steve.” Your voice, your tone, makes him want to laugh, suddenly so solemn.

Steve pushes his arms over your shoulders and dips down until the side of his chin brushed your temple. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m actually really hungry.”

His eyes slip closed in exasperation. He pats your back. “Idiot. This is why you shouldn’t lie.” You laugh. “What’s funny, Pinocchio?”

“Pinocchio!” You laugh harder, dizzy giggles that warm his chest before saying, “Steve, are you saying my nose is a foot long? That is so awful.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls away from your grip. “Here, get up. Let’s go raid the pantry.”

The pantry is stocked pretty well with snacks and Steve doesn’t feel even remotely bad for raiding it in the name of his girl.

“Hey, do you like the strawberry Pop-“ he cuts off, having turned and found you sitting on the floor. “Babe.”

“Yuh?” you ask, looking up. 

He sighs deeply and sits down in front of you, offering the box of Pop Tarts tentatively. You take them without looking at them, your gaze roving over his face greedily. He scratches his neck and tries not to show how shy he feels when you're looking at him like that. 

“Take a picture,” he says dryly.

“I don’t have a camera.”

He chuckles to himself and shuffles as close as he can, his crossed legs brushing your knees. You struggle with the Pop Tart packaging, fingers clumsy with the cardboard. You rip open the foil and it splits wide, the Pop Tarts falling out and into your lap, a hail of crumbs over your clothes. 

He takes the tarts into his hand and uses the other to brush you down. 

“Dummy. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I know you didn’t mean to… take anything.”

“You don’t 'take' pot.”

“You didn’t smoke it,” he argues, forgetting the point.

“I ate it,” you say agreeably, taking back your tarts. “I feel great, Steve. Super. You want one of these?”

“No, you’re okay. You have them both, baby.”

You grin and sandwich them together, taking a big bite that sprays another wave of crumbs down your front. He doesn’t bother brushing these ones away, staring at you unabashed. He’s worried you’re going to get upset though he knows it’s unlikely. Even so, his body remembers, and he feels nauseous as you work your way through your sugary snack. 

You get a stripe of pinky-red icing on your face, from the corner of your mouth and over your cheek. 

"Here," he says, waving his hand at your face. You melt towards him and he wipes it away. 

You're looking at him intensely.

"What?" he asks through a laugh, paused with his hand on your cheek. 

"You…"

"What?" 

"You're so pretty. Handsome," you correct hurriedly. 

"Pretty?" he asks. 

You nod heavily. "You're pretty. My…" Steve slides his hand under your ear. "My pretty boy." 

You smile, lashes kissing at the corners, nothing but love on your face as you lean into his hand. "You have the nicest face ever." 

"What's the matter with you?" he asks, rubbing your cheek with his thumb just rough enough for your head to bob backwards. Your eyes close fully in response. Your smile grows. 

"Nothing," you say adamantly. 

Steve pulls you towards him. You're pretty floppy, your side falling into his chest, your face to his collar. "You're full of it." 

"You're soooo pretty," you whisper. 

"Stop it." 

You look up at him, your crown brushing his chin. "You are! Look-" you bring your hands to his face. His eyes widen and his hands tighten where they rest, arms wrapped around you lightly. "Look at your face." 

"I can't look at my own face." 

"Okay. I'll do it." 

He presses his lips together and lets you play with his face, gently squeezing his cheeks, then less so. Your eyes track over his eyes, his nose, his mouth. 

"Steve," you murmur, pouting at him. 

"Y/N." 

Your teeth appear as your smile grows blinding. You get another case of the giggles and they're infectious, the two of you laughing as your hands fall from his face to his neck and you wrap your arms around him, climbing into his lap. Steve accepts you readily, letting a big breath escape him as he tucks you into his arms. 

"Alright," he says, sighing, palm spreading over the breadth of your back. 

You press your face to his neck. "Prettiest boy ever."

"Give it a rest," he says sternly. Only glad you can't see the blush blooming over his skin. 

[captainpygmy]

Uploaded this behind the scenes and more from the Blu-ray on my archive channel if anyone else wants to go insane with me btw. <3