#and i don’t mean like. offensive. i mean like

[sodamnradd]

“Don’t look,” murmured Theo, twirling a lock of Hermione’s hair around his finger. “But I think he’s jealous.”

“Who?” she whispered, desperately wanting to peek.

“Draco,” he said, caressing her cheek to keep her from checking. “He hasn’t stopped staring at you.”

“In sheer disgust? Draco despises me.”

At work yesterday, he’d insulted her penmanship. Again. Visiting her office for the third day in a row with her memo torn up in scraps, claiming her ‘barbaric handwriting’ was illegible.

“I don’t think so,” he said, leaning in close to make it seem like he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She plastered on a dreamy smile and looked up at him through mascara-coated lashes. “It’s a ruse, you know. Him and Astoria. They’re planning a public break up in a week or two. She’s secretly dating a Quidditch player—a half-blood.”

“The horror,” she replied with a feigned gasp. “Is that all you Slytherins do? Scheme and show off?”

“And fall in love with the wrong people,” he replied with a faraway look in his eyes, straightening when a shadow loomed over them. “Alright, mate?”

Malfoy stood at their table, tall and cross. “May I have a word, Granger?”

Theo nudged her ankle under the table and gave her a knowing grin. She shook her head, refusing to buy into his nonsense. Malfoy was probably here to insult her hair or tell her that pink made her look frumpy.

Before she could tell Malfoy to leave them alone, Theo kissed her cheek and told her not to take too long.

She was left with no choice but to follow Malfoy into the rose garden, away from the gossiping crowd. “What is it?” she demanded, prepared for his regular bullshit.

“I saw something earlier that you should know about.” The grave look on his face sparked her interest. “Look. I know I give you a hard time at work now and again—but I’ve come to… to care…” He paused and tried again. “I mean… I think you deserve… not that I…”

“Malfoy,” she said sharply.

He expelled a long breath, then blurted out, “Theo and Potter are fooling around behind your back. I saw them inside earlier.”

She was floored. And then she felt an odd rush of affection for the stormy man standing before her. It had obviously taken a lot to suck up his pride and tell her that. What had he said? Something about caring?

“I’m sorry, Granger.” He hugged her, smushing her face against his warm chest. “Don’t cry. He was probably afraid he’d get caught by his father and used you as a cover up. People do lousy things when they’re desperate. Take it from someone who knows.”

“I’m not crying,” she mumbled, nudging him back. Her heart was racing. “I know about him and Harry. We were faking it so Theo’s father would ease off him. Apparently, dating a Muggle-born witch is slightly less offensive than being gay."

He opened his mouth, then shut it. His cheeks were turning red. It was oddly sweet how he had nothing to say.

“I hear you and Astoria are pulling a similar stunt,” she said in an attempt to make him feel better.

He shrugged; voice strangled. “Family dynamics are fucked out here.”

“Theo says it’s because you all fall in love with the wrong people.” She looked meaningfully into his eyes.

He stared back. “I wouldn’t say ‘wrong’, just...” His gaze was so intense, she felt trapped in it. “…inconvenient.”

“Is that what I am?” she breathed, wondering if Theo was right. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t looking for ways to get under her skin just to be a prick. Maybe he was looking for excuses to get closer to her. “An inconvenience?”

He didn’t verbally respond, but she felt his gaze all over her. The heat emanating off him made her sweat.

She swallowed, overwhelmed. “How long until you and Astoria call it off?”

He tilted his head. “We’re waiting until the Ministry Gala.”

“Maybe Theo and I will split around that time, too,” she suggested, mentally counting down the days and hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation.

His eyelids grew heavy. He licked his lips.

She felt a little drunk with the way he was looking at her.

“Maybe,” she said, stepping closer to fix his tie. He shivered beneath her touch. “You can send me an office memo. Since my handwriting is so offensive.” She tipped her head back, whispering into his ear, “Thank you for telling me about what you saw.”

Hermione left him there speechless, smiling softly to herself as she walked away.

-

Twelve days later, an office memo nose-dived on her desk. She recognized Malfoy’s pristine handwriting, and considered if maybe hers was a bit messy in comparison.

Dinner tonight in Diagon Alley?

The pink memo bloomed into a rose. She lifted it to her nose, enchanted that it smelled like a real one. But more touched that he wanted to take her out publicly.

Pick me up at 7, she wrote, and let the office memo fly.

(847 words, prompt: fake dating for dramione month)

[steveseddie]

laced

steddie | rating: e | wc: 8,6k | cw: none | tags: steve pov, getting together via lingerie, eddie in panties, blow jobs, anal fingering, thigh fucking, first kiss, yes in that order

for week 3 of @steddiesmuttyseptember using the prompt “lingerie” 

click here to read on ao3

Steve watches as Eddie struggles to squeeze ketchup on his food. He’s squeezing the bottle with both hands, cursing under his breath when nothing comes out despite the cap being open. 

“Fucking stupid useless piece of shit bottle!” 

Steve snorts from across the Munson’s kitchen table. “Y’know, Eds? Maybe it’s not the bottle. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of saying you shouldn’t put ketchup on your eggs.” 

Eddie narrows his eyes at him over the bottle. “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, eh Steve?”

He huffs. “I tried it, remember? You force-fed me eggs with ketchup two weeks ago,” Steve says in a bitchy tone and Eddie lets out a small tee-hee giggle at the reminder. “And it was fucking gross.”

With a shrug, Eddie says, “Maybe your palate isn’t sophisticated enough to appreciate such delicacies.”

“Not sophisticated-” Steve cuts himself off with a snort. “Dude, I ate caviar for the first time when I was six,” he snarks, kicking Eddie’s foot under the table. 

The snobby comment makes Eddie let out a loud and full-bellied laugh but Steve doesn’t get a chance to bask in the warm feeling that spreads through him whenever he makes Eddie laugh like that because, in that moment, ketchup squirts from the bottle that Eddie’s hands are still wrapped around and it lands directly on Steve’s chest, leaving a big red sauce stain on his pristine yellow polo. 

“Goddammit,” Steve curses, grabbing a handful of napkins and rubbing at the stain, but it’s pointless. 

He looks up and finds Eddie staring at him like a deer caught in headlights— wide-eyed and mouth open, the offending bottle still in his hands. 

“Um,” he clears his throat, smiling innocently, “whoops?” 

Steve groans, balls up the napkins and throws them at Eddie’s face.

It hits him square on the forehead, leaving a tiny red sauce stain in the space between his eyebrows. “Hey! It wasn’t my fault!” Eddie protests. Steve stares pointedly at the bottle he’s holding. “Okay, I didn’t mean to!”

“That’s not gonna make this stain disappear, Eds,” Steve says, “or change the fact that I have to be at work in twenty minutes!”

“Hey, maybe no one will notice?” Steve raises an eyebrow at him—really? Eddie visibly winces. “Yeah, okay, you can borrow something from me and I’ll throw that in the washer later.”

Steve throws his head back with a groan, pushing himself up from the table. “Great.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my clothes?” Eddie asks, affronted, but Steve has already started walking towards his room so his question goes unanswered.

Truth is there’s nothing wrong with Eddie’s clothes. Steve loves them. He loves how Eddie looks in them and he loves borrowing them— he loves seeing himself in Eddie’s clothes almost as much as he loves watching Eddie wear his. He just doesn’t love wearing them for work, his trademark skulls and devils always make the old ladies that visit Family Video clutch their pearls and give him nasty looks when he greets them.

But Steve can’t go a whole shift with a giant ketchup stain on his chest, so with a sigh, he heads to Eddie’s dresser where he knows he keeps his shirts and sets off to find the least offensive one for him to borrow. 

He’s rummaging through band tees and Hellfire shirts when his fingers brush against something soft and lacey.

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, his fist closing around the piece of clothing and pulling it out from the drawer to inspect it. He’s never seen Eddie wear anything this soft or delicate, he’s all cotton and denim and leather—

And red lace panties apparently.

Steve’s eyes nearly bulge out from his head when he stares down at his hand and the piece of lingerie he just pulled from Eddie’s dresser. 

Heat starts to build up in his cheeks the longer he holds them because here’s the thing: Steve knows Eddie is gay and he’s made it clear that he’s never been with a girl so these—the panties Steve is holding—can’t belong to anyone but him. 

Which, holy shit. 

Before he can stop himself, his brain conjures up the image of Eddie wearing these and Steve goes dizzy with how fast the blood that crept up to his cheeks rushes south, something hot and heavy settling on his lower stomach. 

Then the bedroom door swings open abruptly and Steve jumps, nearly dropping the panties in surprise.

Eddie saunters in. “Did His Majesty find a shirt worthy of his- oh.” 

He cuts himself off when he recognizes what Steve is holding in his hand, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly before he schools his features into something neutral. 

Meanwhile, Steve looks like he just got caught red-handed. Which, he literally just did. “I wasn’t, um- I was just looking for a shirt that won’t make Mrs. Donovan accuse me of being a satanist again.”

“What would she think if she knew you’re wearing that?” Eddie jokes and it’s only because Steve knows him so well that he notices the way his voice wavers slightly and his laugh comes out a little shaky. 

“I wouldn’t-” He holds his hands up, the panties still clutched between his fingers. He hands them over to Eddie like they’re burning him. “Uh, here.” 

Eddie takes them, raising an eyebrow at Steve’s jittery behavior. “Dude, relax, don’t act like you haven’t seen your fair share of panties, King Steve.”

And he has just not—

“Not in my male friend’s drawers.” 

Eddie visibly flinches, his mouth twisting like he tasted something sour. “Right,” he says, his voice clipped. 

Well, shit. 

Steve instantly tries to backtrack. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean- it’s just weird- fuck, not weird, that’s not- guys can own panties too- fuck conformity and all that shit, right? I mean, if they’re yours, um, are they? Yours?” 

Eddie narrows his eyes at him warily. “If I say yes, you promise not to be weird about it?” 

“Of course, man!” Steve says, his voice an octave higher than usual. Damn it.

“Very convincing, Steve,” Eddie says with a snort but he must believe him at least a little because he tugs some of his hair in front of his face and quietly admits, “Uh, yeah, they’re- They’re mine.”

He’s being uncharacteristically shy about this, unlike the time Steve asked about the handkerchief that hangs from his jeans or the handcuffs that he keeps on his headboard, then again they were high when that happened and Steve wasn’t being so painfully awkward. 

And okay, it’s not because he’s uncomfortable or anything- or well, not in the way Eddie thinks. More in the ‘his jeans feel suddenly tighter and he can’t wait until he can go home and jerk off’ way but he can’t tell Eddie that. 

So he tries to prove to Eddie he’s not weirded out some other way. 

“Well, they’re- they’re nice,” he says, hoping that his smile doesn’t look too strained. “I like the color.”

Eddie leers at him. “Oh-ho-ho, is Steve Harrington a red panties kind of guy?” 

And he’s not, not really. He doesn’t have a preference but given how the thought of Eddie in red panties is clearly doing it for him, maybe he is. Or maybe it’s just because it’s Eddie. 

He swallows a few times, his throat suddenly feeling dry. “Nah, not like you are,” he says, his voice coming out a little shaky around the joke, but at least it makes Eddie laugh and it diffuses the tension between them a little bit. 

“Fair enough.”

“So, um, where did you get them?”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Why? Looking for ideas for my birthday present?” He asks teasingly. Now that he knows Steve isn’t really weirded out, he seems intent on making him squirm as much as he can. “Women’s department at a shop in Indy. Told the woman at the register they were for my girlfriend,” he snorts, “you should’ve seen her, Stevie, she was scandalized.”

Steve chuckles at the thought of Eddie walking to the register and slapping the panties in front of some middle-aged woman, earning him the stink eye.

“Don’t know if she actually believed I have a girlfriend,” Eddie goes on, “she probably did. I think she would’ve sent me on my merry way if she knew they were for me. Maybe next time I’ll tell her they are just to ruffle her feathers.”

“Or to get banned from the store,” Steve replies with a chuckle. Then he asks, “Did you only go that one time?” 

Eddie nods. “Haven’t been to Indy in a while and I guess I could find some here but- it’s different. In the city no one knows who I am and no one cares, but here? They all know who the Freak is and that he doesn’t have a girlfriend so if they saw me buying panties? It’ll surely get the gossip mill going,” he says, tone slightly bitter. “That’s also why I don’t wear them often, y’know? First of all, they’re a bitch to wash, Stevie, I’m telling you, but also I try to be careful, it only takes one asshole jock deciding to pant me for everyone in Hawkins to find out Eddie Munson likes to wear women’s underwear.”

Steve nods in understanding. Meanwhile, his lizard brain wonders if Eddie’s ever worn them while hanging out with him. He forces his mind out of the gutter so he can reassure Eddie. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he says, “I won’t say anything.”

Eddie gives him a soft amused look. “I know that, sweetheart.” 

Steve, who nearly had his blush under control by now, can feel his cheeks pinking up again at the pet name. “Good, okay, um. Anyway, I should probably change and head out if I want to get to work on time.”

He blindly reaches into Eddie’s dresser, grabbing the first shirt he finds.  “Yup, that’ll do,” he says without even looking at it. “I’m just gonna- yeah.”

He starts walking backward towards the bathroom. Eddie waves goodbye at him, the panties still clutched in his fingers. Steve’s eyes zero in on them and stay there for a little too long, resulting in him being so unaware of his surroundings that he bumps against the wall on his way out of the room. 

Eddie watches all of this with curious eyes and Steve worries that he’ll see right through Steve’s blush and his nervous behavior. He holds Eddie’s borrowed shirt in front of his jeans as he exits the room just in case. 

In the bathroom, he changes into said shirt. The whole time, he can’t stop thinking about the damn panties, his face burning. 

He splashes water on it, trying to cool down. 

“Get it together, Harrington,” he tells his flushed reflection in the mirror. His eyes dart down and he can’t help but groan at the shirt he blindly grabbed from Eddie’s dresser. 

Not a skull and not a devil, but a metalhead from some band, raising both of his middle fingers and sticking his tongue out the way Eddie does when he throws up those damn devil horns of his. 

“Fucking great.”

He hopes fucking Mrs. Donovan doesn’t come into Family Video looking for a movie to rent today.

***

“Earth to Steve?” Robin waves her hands in front of Steve’s face. “Hello?”

When that doesn’t snap Steve out of his thoughts, Robin flicks his forehead. “Ow! What the hell, dude?” He slaps her hand away, straightening up from where he was leaning on the counter, pretending to sort out tapes while actually staring into space, thoughts of Eddie swirling around in his head. 

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for like ten minutes!”

“Oh,” he hangs a hand from his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, Robs.” 

She sighs then narrows her eyes at him. “Are you okay? You’re distracted today.” 

“I’m not!” 

“No? You just put Halloween in the romance pile, dingus,” she says, picking up the horror tape from said romance pile. 

“Uh, well, some might consider Mike Myers being obsessed with this Laurie chic romantic?” Steve jokes. 

Robin snorts but keeps staring at him with curious eyes. It reminds Steve of Eddie this morning and that reminds him of the panties which immediately has a blush creeping up on his face. Robin’s eyes narrow further until she’s basically squinting. It’s a good thing they can’t actually read each other’s thoughts the way they always joke about. That doesn’t mean Robin isn’t trying to do it with how hard she’s staring at him. 

“I’m fine, Robs,” Steve says, squirming under her stare. 

But just because she can’t read his mind doesn’t mean she can’t tell he’s lying. “Well, that’s convincing,” she snorts, “seriously, what’s happening in that big hairy head of yours?” 

Well, Robin, turns out that our friend Eddie, who I have a raging gay crush on, happens to own a pair of red lace panties and now I can’t stop thinking about him wearing them! 

Steve scrunches up his nose. “You don’t wanna know, Robs.” 

His words don’t stop her from pushing. “Does it have anything to do with that awful thing you’re wearing? Seriously, Steve, the woman that was just here crossed herself and walked out as soon as she saw you.” 

Steve looks down at the shirt, lips pursed. “I had to borrow this from Eddie-”

“Obviously.” 

“-because he fucking squirted me with ketchup this morning.” 

Robin scrunches up her nose. “Gross, dude, don’t say it like that, ew!” 

Steve sniggers, bonking her head with one of the tapes. He really should go back to sorting them out and actually doing his job. “It’s not my fault he doesn’t own anything remotely normal.” 

Robin snorts. “Yeah, love the guy but his taste in clothes is bad with a capital B.”

At least his taste in panties is good, Steve thinks, then bites his tongue so hard he visibly winces. 

Robin notices but luckily misinterprets it as Steve being offended on Eddie’s behalf. “You know I’m right! Just because you have a crush on him and drool over his chains and ripped jeans and cropped shirts on a daily basis doesn’t mean I’m not!”

“Hey!” Steve protests weakly. “I don’t drool.”

“Hm, yes you do and it’s embarrassing,” she says, ignoring Steve’s string of offended noises, “Speaking of Eddie! When are you going to tell him?” 

“Tell him what?” 

“That you want to boink him.” 

“Boink?” Steve echoes, pulling a face. “No one fucking calls it that!” 

Robin shrugs. “Whatever, so when?”

“I was thinking- never,” he says and Robin dramatically collapses on the counter, a few tapes toppling to the floor when she knocks them over with her bony elbows. He knows what comes next— they’ve been having this discussion since Steve confessed that he liked boys and that he liked Eddie a few weeks ago. She’ll insist that Steve should tell him, Steve will say no, she’ll ask why and it will spiral into her trying to convince Steve of all the reasons why he should. He doesn’t want to get into that right now, not after this morning. There’s only so much he can take so he doesn’t give her the chance to kickstart the argument, throwing her own question back at her, “When are you gonna tell Vickie?” 

She jerks her head upright to glare at him. Steve just shrugs. 

“Speaking of Vickie,” she says and Steve snorts at the way she blatantly ignores his question. “Her birthday is coming up and I want to get her something nice so I need you to take me to Indy this weekend.”

“And why would I do that?” Steve asks in a bitchy tone that they both know is only for show. 

“Because you’re my best friend and my platonic soulmate and we’re bonded for life and you love me,” she says, batting her eyelashes at him, her hands held together in front of her in a pleading gesture. 

Steve snorts. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I’ll take you.”

She throws her arms up in celebration, a few more tapes toppling to the floor. Her nose scrunches up and she disappears behind the counter to pick them up. 

When she pops back up, she waggles her eyebrows at Steve. “Maybe you can find something for Eddie too,” she says teasingly. 

Eddie’s words from earlier, when Steve asked where he got the lingerie, ring in Steve’s ears— Why? Looking for ideas for my birthday present?

It makes the back of his neck feel like it’s one fire, and before Robin can ask what that’s about, he leans down to pick the tapes that fell on his side of the counter. “Hm, yeah, uh- maybe.” 

Luckily Robin districts herself listing some of the things that Vickie might like and she doesn’t notice how strangled Steve’s voice comes out at the thought of getting Eddie some new panties. 

Not that Steve will do it. He won’t obviously. 

Who fucking does that? 

***

Turns out Steve fucking does that. 

He slips away while Robin is roaming around a bookstore in Indy— looking for some fantasy novel that she heard Vickie talk about. She barely listens to him when he says he’s going to find the bathroom, waving him off as she rattles whatever detail she can remember about the book to the frazzled teen working at the bookstore with the hope that she’ll know exactly what book Robin is talking about. 

Steve does go looking for the bathroom but on his way back he walks past a window displaying lingerie. He pauses in front of it and his mouth goes dry as he pictures Eddie wearing the different sets of panties on display.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s walking into the store and picking the ones that caught his attention the most— a pair of black lace panties with a cute little pink bow. 

The lady at the register raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him when he hands those over but luckily she doesn’t say anything. Most likely she thinks Steve is getting something for his girlfriend, but even if there’s no way for her to know that he’s actually buying them for his metalhead friend who Steve has a raging crush on, he still feels a blush creeping up his neck when she asks if he wants her to put it in a gift bag.

Steve says yes only to realize he will have to run to the car to drop it off before meeting up with Robin again, lest she sees it and starts questioning Steve about it, but at least when he gives it to Eddie it will look pretty. 

Much like Eddie will in those panties. 

The thought makes his blush spread to his ears and with a mumbled “thank you” he grabs the bag and runs out of there. 

***

It’s not until a week later that Steve finally decides to give Eddie his gift. Mostly because he knows he can’t keep the bag hidden under his bed forever, it’s only a matter of time before Robin, one of the kids, or Eddie himself finds it and that’s something he doesn’t want to have to explain.

Not that he knows how he’ll explain to Eddie that he got him a pair of panties but whatever.

He’s still trying to figure that one out when he parks the Beemer in front of Eddie’s trailer. Wayne’s truck isn’t there, having already left for work, which Steve was counting on. There’s no way he’s doing this in front of Eddie’s uncle, he would die of embarrassment before Eddie even sees the gift. But even knowing that Wayne isn’t there does little to appease Steve’s nerves and he needs to take a few deep breaths before he exits the car, pink gift bag in hand. 

“It’s just a gift,” Steve mutters to himself as he walks up the steps. “A friendly gift, you got Eddie something he likes, he’s not going to read into it.”

With a shaky hand, he knocks on the door.

“He doesn’t know you haven’t stopped thinking about the panties for a whole fucking week,” he goes on, running his free hand through his hair as he hears footsteps approaching through the thin walls of the trailer.  “Or that you jerked off to the thought of him wearing them or that you wish you could see him in the ones you got for him!” He shakes his head with a nervous chuckle. “There’s no fucking need to make this weird, okay? Okay.”

The door swings open and Steve’s jaw snaps shut as Eddie’s head pops into view. “Stevie!” He says, his face breaking into a beaming smile that makes Steve’s heart stutter. “Hey!” 

“H-hi, Eds,” he says, wiggling his fingers. He keeps his other hand behind his back, holding the bag out of view.

Eddie leans against the door frame, cocking his head. “What brings you here, buddy?” 

“Um, well. I got you something.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. “A gift?” He gasps, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. He pokes his chest. “For moi?” 

When Steve nods, Eddie makes grabby hands at him. “Gimme!” 

“Um, can I come in first?” 

“Well, duh!” Eddie says, stepping aside and sweeping his arm over the entrance with a flourish. 

Steve steps in, and despite knowing Wayne is gone for the night, he starts walking towards Eddie’s room. It feels weird to give this gift to Eddie in the living room, considering what it is. 

Because giving your friend a new set of panties because you haven’t stopped thinking about the ones he already owns is any less weird if you do it in the bedroom, Steve’s brain supplies. 

Fuck, is he really doing this? 

“Soooo,” Eddie says, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder, trying to peek at the bag in his hands. “Whatcha got for me, Stevie?”

Yeah, he is. There’s no turning back now. 

“Here,” Steve says, handing over the pink bag with shaky hands. Eddie snatches it greedily, momentarily distracted by the pink bow decorating it before he sticks his hand inside.

Steve holds his breath but resists the urge to shut his eyes, not wanting to miss Eddie’s reaction. That way he’ll be ready if Eddie looks like he wants to punch Steve or kick him out. 

But when Eddie’s fingers brush the soft material and his expression changes, Steve doesn’t know what to brace himself for. 

Eddie’s eyes are wide as he drags his hand out, black lace panties clutched in his fingers, and he gasps audibly when he sees them, letting the bag fall at his feet. 

“S-Steve?” He asks, only slightly above a whisper. He’s not looking at Steve but staring down at the panties instead— a blush rapidly creeping on his cheeks. 

Steve doesn’t know whether that’s good or bad and it makes him nervous. “I- I went shopping in Indy and I saw those and I thought- I thought I’d get them for you.”

Eddie’s big eyes blink up at him. “You thought you’d get me lingerie-”

His voice doesn’t betray anything except shock and Steve fidgets, hanging a hand from his neck. “Uh yeah? I’m sorry if that’s like, weird- fuck it’s weird, isn’t it? It’s just that I haven’t really stopped thinking about last week-”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. 

Panicking, Steve starts rambling, hands on his hips as he paces back and forth. “You know, thinking about how you said you didn’t get the chance to- to buy these things here so I thought I’d get you those. They’re uh pretty, I thought you’d look-” Eddie’s eyes go impossibly wider at that. “Shit, not that I’ve thought about you wearing lingerie! Just- they’re nice! You’d look good in black, they’ll match your tattoos and they’ll look good with your skin and- and- fuck, okay, shit, maybe I thought about it- About you wearing those and- and the other ones. It’s- shit, it’s actually all I can think about,” he admits with a breathy chuckle. Eddie makes some sort of strangled noise. “Fuck, I’m gonna shut up now.” 

Steve stares anxiously at Eddie, but he doesn’t say anything, just stares at him, wide-eyed and slacked-jawed. 

Steve can’t help but squirm. “Can you- can you say something, Eddie, please?”

“You-” Eddie starts but has to stop to clear his throat when his voice comes out an octave higher. “You thought about me wearing panties?” 

Steve hangs his head between his shoulders with a sigh. “Y-yeah,” he admits, “a lot.”

Eddie’s sharp inhale is followed by a muttered string of curses. “Shit, shit, shit. Holy shit.”

“Eddie, I’m sorry-”

“Did you-” Eddie pauses to lick his lips. “Did you do something about it?” He asks, gesturing vaguely but Steve knows what he means. 

He whines, covering his face with his hands. “Yeah, I did. Fuck, Eddie, I’m so sorry.” 

“Jesus H. Christ, Steve-”

“I know, I’m a terrible friend-”

“What? Dude, I’m not mad.”

Steve peeks at him through his fingers. “You’re- not?”

A laugh rushes from Eddie’s lips— hilarity mixed with disbelief. “Fuck no, sweetheart,” he says and Steve’s heart stutters in his chest at the pet name. “I thought you were weirded out last week! And then you show up here with lingerie for me and I thought that’s exactly what Steve Harrington would do to prove he’s not weirded out by his friend owning panties, y’know? But this? You- thinking about me like that? Fuck, Steve, I don’t think I’m reading this wrong but if I am don’t punch me for this but- do you want to see?” 

“See what?” Steve asks dumbly.

“See me in these,” Eddie says, holding the panties up as he moves closer. He pitches his voice lower when he asks, “Do you wanna see me in these panties you got for me, sweetheart?” 

“Eddie-” Steve whines. Only in his wildest dreams did he expect Eddie to offer to show him. “Fuck yeah, I do.” 

Eddie’s mouth curls into a devilish grin. “Sit down, baby, I’ll be right back.” 

Steve falls back on the bed like a puppet whose strings were cut and watches Eddie skip to the bathroom, looking at Steve over his shoulder like he can’t believe this is really happening. 

Steve can’t believe it himself.

He sits there, waiting for Eddie, hands shaking with anticipation, warmth pooling at his stomach knowing what he’s about to see. 

He takes a few deep, calming breaths and it’s in the middle of one of those that Eddie walks back into the room and all of Steve’s air leaves him in a whoosh. 

All Steve can do is whisper out a strangled, “Fuck.” 

Eddie leans on the doorway, playing with the hem of his Black Sabbath shirt, which ends just before his waist, giving Steve a perfect view of the lace black panties stretching over Eddie’s dick, the elastic digging into his hips.

“What do you think, Stevie?” Eddie asks coyly, lifting his shirt a little further up, allowing Steve’s gaze to travel over Eddie’s happy trail right to where it disappears enticingly under that little pink bow. 

“Eddie, fuck, you look beautiful,” Steve says, breathlessly. 

“Yeah?” Eddie bites his lip, walking towards the bed, the dark lace shifting over his dick. Steve can’t take his eyes off of it, especially when he ends up at eye level with it as Eddie moves closer. “You like them?”

He gulps audibly. “Fuck yeah, I do,” he says, squirming on the bed as his dick starts to fill up, pushing uncomfortably against his zipper. He grips the bed sheets that he’s sitting on, fighting the urge to reach out and touch. 

“I like them too,” Eddie admits, his finger tracing the delicate lace pattern. Steve’s fingers itch to do the same. “They feel nice.”

“Can I-” Steve starts before he realizes what he’s saying and shuts up. 

Eddie’s eyes twinkle. “Can you what, sweetheart?”

“Touch,” Steve says, “can I touch you, Eddie?”

Eddie nods eagerly, letting his hands fall to his sides and out of the way so Steve can touch him wherever he wants. 

First, Steve puts his hands on Eddie’s hips, his thumbs toying with the waistband of his panties. “You’re right,” Steve pants, “they feel nice.”

“Mhm, you- uh, you can touch more, if you want. I like feeling your hands on me.”

“God, Eddie-” He moves his hands, stroking Eddie’s sides, under his shirt. “Can you take this off?” 

Eddie’s response is to pull his shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but the panties. Steve can’t stop himself from moving his hands over Eddie’s chest— tracing his tattoos and his scars, playing with his guitar pick necklace, following the trail of hair until he reaches the waistband of the panties and then dipping his fingers past the elastic just enough to tease him.

All the while Eddie is squirming under his touch, small breathless noises slipping past his lips with every brush of Steve’s fingers. 

Under the panties, his cock is fully hard now, the lace stretching obscenely over his length. Slowly, so Eddie can stop him if he wants to, Steve moves his hand lower. Eddie holds his breath, watching with rapt attention as Steve’s fingers ghost over his dick, barely touching. 

He whines, hips bucking forward. “Steve-”

The sound goes straight to Steve’s dick, fully hard now and still trapped in his jeans, but like hell if he’s going to stop paying attention to Eddie to relieve the pressure building inside him. It can wait— for now, he cups Eddie’s dick over his panties and squeezes. 

Eddie makes a broken, surprised noise, his hands flying to his own hair and pulling at it just to have something to hold on to as Steve works his hand over his length repeatedly, stroking him. “Fuck, Steve, baby-” Eddie sobs, bucking his hips towards the insistent movement of Steve’s hand.

Steve glances up at him, hand still moving, and meets Eddie’s eyes. They’re nearly black and his lips are parted and red from Eddie biting them and there’s a flush spreading from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. “God, Eddie, you’re gorgeous, did you know that?” He says, awed. Eddie makes a weak noise in the back of his throat. “So fucking pretty for me.” 

The praise makes Eddie’s dick twitch, the tip leaking and leaving a damp spot on the panties. 

Steve’s mouth waters. “Eddie-” He wants to lean in and taste him, but he doesn’t know how to ask for it. 

Luckily he doesn’t have to, Eddie sees right through him. “Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie says, one of his hands moving to brush some of Steve’s hair away from his face. “Whatever you want.” 

Once he’s given permission, Steve licks his lips and then he leans in, licking Eddie’s dick from base to tip, leaving a trail of spit over the black lace. 

Eddie moans out, obscenely loud. Steve needs to hear that noise again, so he repeats what he did over and over. 

“Holy shit, oh my god-” Eddie’s words trail off into a whine when Steve licks directly at the tip of his cock where it’s peeking out from the panties. Tasting Eddie for the first time has Steve shoving a hand between his own legs and squeezing his dick, desperate for some friction. 

He gives a few more tentative kitten licks to the tip before fully wrapping his lips around the head and sucking. 

“Motherfu- ah! Steve!” Eddie cries out, his knees buckling and Steve has to grab his hips to keep him on his feet. 

“You okay?” Steve asks, letting Eddie’s dick fall from his lips, going back to the kitten licks and soft kisses to the tip. 

“I feel like I’m dying,” Eddie says, breath stuttering from Steve’s mouth on him. “Or maybe- ah, maybe I already died and I’m in heaven.”

Steve snorts, but he blushes at the praise. 

Eddie runs his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “You’d make a pretty angel, Stevie, though what you’re doing to me right now is downright sinful.”

“Hm, do you want me to stop?” Steve asks, eyelashes fluttering. 

“Fuck, no.” 

“Good, because I don’t want to. I want to make you come,” he admits, looking at Eddie with hungry eyes. 

“I- yeah, that’s not going to be a hard goal to achieve, Steve,” Eddie exhales on a chuckle. 

“Come here,” Steve says, grabbing two handfuls of Eddie’s lace-covered ass and bringing him forward so he can get his mouth back on him. It might not be a proper blowjob but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He clearly enjoys the way Steve sucks at the tip, presses his tongue against the slit, mouthes at the rest of his dick over the panties. His hands eventually find Steve’s hair and he runs his fingers through the messy strands, encouragingly.

After a while, Eddie’s legs start to shake and Steve knows he won’t be able to hold himself up much longer, so with a final sloppy kiss to the head of his dick, he pushes Eddie back and stands up, disentangling Eddie’s fingers from his hair. 

Eddie whines, hips stuttering and chasing after Steve’s mouth, but Steve doesn’t let him despair for long. 

“Get on the bed,” he says, “I want you spread out on the bed for me.” 

“Fuck, okay.” 

He quickly does as he’s told, lying on his back on the bed. Steve’s hand darts between his legs again, cupping himself at the sight in front of him.

Eddie’s eyes follow his hand. “Think you should lose those jeans, big boy. The shirt too,” he suggests, “it’s only fair, considering I only have these panties on.” 

And that’s some solid logic right there who is Steve to argue?

With one swift movement, he shrugs off his shirt, feeling Eddie’s eyes on him. Then he makes quick work of his button and zipper, letting his jeans pool at his ankles before stepping out of them. 

“Oh,” Eddie gasps, and when Steve looks up, he finds him staring a hole into Steve’s boxers.

“What?”

“Nothing, just- you’re actually into this,” he says, gesturing at Steve’s crotch, the outline of his hard dick painstakingly obvious.  “Into me.”

Steve snorts. “And you’re realizing that just now?”

“Dude, I told myself so many times there was no way-”

“Please don’t call me dude while I can still taste your dick in my mouth, Eddie,” Steve says, scrunching up his nose.

But Eddie ignores him and goes on, “-no way this could ever happen, it’s kinda hard to believe it.”

“Well, it is and I’ll prove it to you,” Steve says, climbing onto the bed and settling between Eddie’s legs. Now that he knows he’s allowed, he wastes no time going for what he wants, which is mouthing sloppily at Eddie’s dick, coating his panties with spit. 

It makes Eddie squirm violently on the bed, gripping the bedsheets and letting out so many moans and curses. 

When he pulls back to breathe, Steve can’t help but groan when he sees that the lace panties are basically see-through now from Steve’s spit and Eddie’s precum. “I think we might ruin your panties.”

Eddie snorts weakly. “I quite literally do not give a shit,” he says, waving a dismissive hand at Steve. “But you can take them off if you wanna.”

“No,” Steve says right away. He traces the lacey pattern with a featherlight touch. “I don’t, I like you in these.” 

Eddie lets out a low groan. “Oh, fuck me.”

Steve’s finger freezes as he considers Eddie’s words. “Can I?”

“Huh?”

“Can I fuck you? Can I use my fingers?”

Eddie gapes at him. “You want to?” When Steve nods eagerly, he lets out a whoosh of air. “Holy shit, yeah, of course you can. There’s, uh, lube in the nightstand.”

That’s all Steve needs to scramble to the bedside table and grab the bottle of lube. He wastes no time coating his fingers, eager to get them inside Eddie but not wanting to rush and risk hurting him. 

He considers taking the panties off for better access but there’s no need because Eddie drags his legs up until his knees are bent, his feet flat against the mattress, and then he snakes a hand between his legs, grabs hold of the panties and moves them to one side, exposing his hole. 

“Oh my God,” Steve gasps, going dizzy with arousal. 

“Steve,” Eddie whines when he doesn’t move. It snaps Steve out of it and he rubs his fingers together, warming up the lube, before he brings one finger to Eddie’s entrance so he can rub at the puckered skin before pushing it in. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Steve-”

Eddie takes Steve’s first finger greedily and asks for a second one after Steve fucks him with it only a handful of times. Steve happily gives him a second finger and when he asks for a third, Steve gives him that too. He curls his fingers in a way that has Eddie jolting from pleasure and letting out the neediest of whines. Aiming for that spot, Steve fucks him with those three fingers until Eddie’s back is arching from the bed, an incessant string of praises and curses falling from his lips.

“God, Steve, so good, sweetheart, fucking me so good, fuck, I’m close-”

Steve drinks in every word, feels them go straight to his own dick, his lower belly simmering with arousal. His brain is foggy, but he does his best to pay attention to every detail of how Eddie moves and sounds, committing them to memory for when he’s alone. 

There’s one thing he wants to see more than anything— Eddie coming for him. So he speeds up his pace, feeling the elastic of the panties dig into his wrist on every thrust. And because he can’t help himself, he also lowers his face so it’s lined up with Eddie’s dick, putting his mouth on him again, sucking enthusiastically at the head. 

“Jesus, fuck! Stevie, oh God,” Eddie pants, nearly jumping off the bed when Steve adds his mouth back to the mix. He thrashes around on the bed as Steve finds a ruthless rhythm between his fingers and his mouth. 

He keeps his eyes open and on Eddie, sensing how close he is and not wanting to miss any of it. 

When Steve purposefully times a particular hard suck with his fingers hitting that spot inside him, it finally happens. 

With a loud, strangled moan, Eddie comes. Hard. Steve has to pull off so he doesn’t choke and he only manages to swallow some of his cum, the last few spurts mixed with his spit dripping from his mouth and all over Eddie’s spent dick and the panties stretching over it. It’s fucking filthy and Steve has to sit back on his heels and squeeze his dick so he doesn’t come untouched.

His other hand is still inside Eddie, three fingers deep, and he can’t resist rubbing the pad of his thumb over Eddie’s hole where it’s stretched around Steve. The touch makes Eddie squirm and mewl, his dick giving a pathetic twitch.

Slowly, Steve withdraws his fingers and the elastic of the panties snaps back into place. Eddie lets out a soft whine at that.

Steve takes a moment to admire Eddie. 

He’s a fucking mess— his hair fanned out against the bed, a flush spreading down to his chest, cum and spit and lube coating his panties. Steve feels the urge to mess him up even more. He wants to jerk himself off and come all over Eddie. At this point, it’ll take two or three strokes at best. 

“Hey, uh,” Steve clears his throat, his voice rough from sucking Eddie off. “I’ve got some bad news.”

“Hm?” Even if Eddie acknowledges Steve he still seems out of it, it takes a few seconds for his cloudy eyes to find and focus on him. “What’s that?”

“Your panties are definitely ruined,” Steve announces regretfully. 

Eddie snorts weakly. “So am I,” he says, a sort of disbelieving laugh tumbling from his lips. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve.”

Steve lets out a pleased chuckle, warmth spreading through him at Eddie’s awed tone.

“Gimme a moment and I’ll return the favor, m’kay, sweetheart?” He tells Steve, smiling lazily.

It’s silly but Steve feels himself blush at the endearment. “Oh, you- uh, you don’t have to-”

Eddie scoffs. “You don’t have to, he says. Steve, I want to.”

A small needy noise slips past Steve’s lips. “What do you want?”

“Nu-uh, Stevie, it’s your turn. This is about what you want."

Steve gulps as he goes over every thought he’s had about Eddie since he realized he was into him, especially in the last week. “I- fuck, honestly? I really want to fuck you,” he says, watching Eddie’s eyes visibly darken at his words. “But I don’t think I’ll last long enough to make it good,” he admits sheepishly. 

Eddie whispers a breathy, “Fuck.” He shakes his head in disbelief like he still can’t wrap his head around Steve being so turned on without either of them even touching his dick. “I- we can save that for next time.” 

Steve’s breath catches— next time? Holy shit.

Eddie’s head lolls to the side. He looks at Steve with hazy eyes. “You could- uh, you could fuck my thighs,” he suggests almost shyly. “Y’know, if you want.”

Boy does he ever. “Eds,” Steve says, voice thick with lust. “Hell yeah, I want.”

Eddie flashes him a pleased grin, and then with renewed energy, he rolls over, settling on his hands and knees on the bed. Steve groans at the sight of Eddie’s ass framed by black lace. 

“Like what you see?” Eddie asks, smirking at Steve over his shoulder and fucking- shaking his ass. 

“You have no idea,” Steve breathes out. 

“I have some idea,” Eddie says cheekily, staring pointedly at Steve’s crotch where his dick is tenting his boxers obscenely. “C’mon, let me see you, big boy.” 

Feeling Eddie’s eyes on him, Steve grabs the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down, his dick slapping against his stomach, hard as a rock.

Eddie noticeably swallows, cursing under his breath. “Shit, yeah, big boy is right.”

Steve smirks, wrapping his hand around his dick and giving it a few slow strokes. Eddie whines, fingers digging roughly on the bedsheets. Steve wonders if he’s thinking about replacing Steve’s hand with his or if he’d rather use his mouth. Next time— the words ring in Steve’s ears but he forces himself to focus on what he’s supposed to be doing now. 

“Can I-” He trails off, gesturing at Eddie’s ass. Eddie nods eagerly. 

Steve situates himself behind him, skin buzzing with arousal and anticipation. The back of Eddie’s thighs glisten with lube from Steve messily fingering him earlier, as well as the skin between his cheeks. Eyes glued to Eddie’s ass, Steve blindly reaches for the lube and spreads a fair amount over his dick before he grabs Eddie’s hips and lines it up with the space between his thighs. 

“Ready?”

“Yeah, fuck my thighs, baby,” Eddie pants, hanging his head between his arms. 

And Steve can’t hold himself back anymore, almost shaking with the need to come, so he finally slips his dick between Eddie’s thighs, moaning at how soft and warm and good it feels. 

Steve whispers out a strangled, “Shit.”

He pauses for a moment, his hips flush against Eddie’s ass and the back of his thighs. He’s worried he’ll come too soon, just from how hot this is, so he takes deep slow breaths to calm himself down— in and out while his fingers trace the lacey outline of the panties, marvelling at the stark contrast between the dark fabric and Eddie’s pale skin, the way it matches the dragon tattoo on Eddie’s lower back. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” Steve mutters before gripping Eddie’s hips with both hands again, keeping him in place as he pulls his own hips back until just the head of his dick is peeking between Eddie’s legs and then pushes forward again.

He sets a slow but steady rhythm after that, rocking his hips back and forth. It’s so good and Steve feels his dick steadily leaking precum, which along with the lube he coated himself with earlier, is making his cock slide more smoothly against the inside of Eddie’s thighs. 

“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so good,” he groans, his fingers gripping Eddie’s hips harder and pulling him back to him so he meets Steve’s thrusts. 

Eddie catches on, pushing back on his own at the same time he squeezes his thighs together. 

“Oh, fuck,” Steve moans brokenly, his hips stuttering. “Keep doing that, Eddie, please.” 

“As your Majesty commands,” Eddie says dorkily even if it comes out slightly strangled. 

Steve doesn’t get to call him out on it because then he’s pressing his legs tightly around Steve’s cock, making it impossible to string words together, only high-pitched whines and needy whimpers leaving Steve’s lips. 

“I swear to God,” Eddie pants, “I’m gonna come again just from those fucking- sounds you keep making.” 

Steve groans loudly and hears Eddie let out a string of curses before he leans his weight on one hand so the other one can reach between his legs. Curious, Steve moves to bend over Eddie’s back, his arms wrapping around him, his chin pressing against the back of Eddie’s neck.

“H-hey,” Eddie says shakily, turning his head so he can smile at Steve far too sweet for what they’re doing right now. 

“Hey,” Steve says back, kissing Eddie’s shoulder and laughing at the way Eddie yelps and jumps when Steve’s hand snakes under him to find that he’s hard again. “Let me.”

“Wait- fuck, it’s your- your turn-” But Eddie’s protest dies on his lips when Steve replaces his hand on his dick.

“My turn to pick what I want, yeah. And I want you to come again, Eds, with me this time. I’m close, babe,” Steve whispers against his ear as he starts rolling his hips again, fucking into Eddie’s thighs and stroking him at the same time. 

Eddie lets out a strangled, “Fuck, sweetheart,” which Steve choruses with his own breathless curse, lips pressed against the nape of Eddie’s neck. 

“God, Eddie, you feel amazing,” Steve moans, moving faster, both his hips and his hand on Eddie’s dick, his thumb smearing precum around the sensitive head. 

“Gonna- fuck, Steve- gonna feel so much better when you fuck me,” Eddie says, panting heavily. 

“God, shut up-” Steve whimpers when Eddie’s words send shocks of pleasure through his body in an almost painful way.

“Gonna ruin me even more then, sweetheart,” Eddie says, decidedly ignoring Steve and not shutting up. “Mark me up inside too, it’d be so easy to just, fuck- just move the panties to the side and slide in- ah, Steve-” 

The rest of Eddie’s words die in his throat as pleasure builds up almost unbearably for the two of them. The only sounds that can be heard after that are the slapping of skin against skin as Steve continues to fuck Eddie’s thighs and the string of whines and choked-up noises spilling from both of their lips. 

Eddie’s words echo in Steve’s mind— next time and when you fuck me and move the panties to the side and mark me up inside. It’s the last one that tips him over the edge or rather knowing that when he comes he’s going to mess Eddie up even more, ruin him. 

With a cry of Eddie’s name, Steve comes, his eyes slipping shut as he pushes his cock between his legs one more time and spills between them. 

A small whimpery, “fuck,” falls from Eddie’s lips as Steve’s cum drips down the inside of his thighs. It takes Steve jerking him once, twice for Eddie to start shaking as his own orgasm washes over him, coming all over the sheets.

Their arms and legs can’t possibly hold them up after that and they both flop gracelessly onto the very dirty mattress, their bodies sticking together with sweat and cum. It’s gross and disgusting— and also kind of perfect. 

“God,” Eddie says with a laugh, his face smushed against the bed. 

“Yup,” Steve agrees, draped over Eddie’s spine.

“No, like- I think I saw God. I died and I saw God and she said ‘it’s not your time yet, my child, you still need to be fucked by Steve Harrington’ and sent me back.”

Steve snorts at Eddie’s nonsense. “Well, we can’t afford to disappoint God,” he plays along.

“Hm, nope, but she’ll understand that I need some time to recover,” Eddie says, pulling a face, “And a shower, I’m sticky.”

“We both are.”

“Hm, wanna shower together?” Eddie asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve chuckles softly even if the idea sounds enticing. “I thought you said you needed time to recover.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t blow you in the shower,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Christ,” Steve mutters. “As much as I want that, Eds, I don’t think I have another round in me.”

With a little royal twist of his hand, he says, “As His Majesty wishes.”

“Dork,” Steve says fondly. “Um, I do want something though.”

“Hm, what’s that? I told you, Stevie, anything you want.”

Steve keeps his voice only slightly above a whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

As soon as the words are out, Eddie cranes his neck trying to look at Steve and when that doesn’t work, he wiggles under his weight until he can roll over and Steve is lying on top of him. It’s even more gross this way, their fronts pressed together and Eddie’s ass resting on top of the wet spot on the bed, but Steve doesn’t care about any of that. He just wants to know what Eddie’s answer will be. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a bewildered smile. “Of course you can.”

With a smile of his own, Steve props himself up on his arms so his face is hovering over Eddie’s and he can take it in for a minute— the blush high in his cheeks, the way his eyes sparkle with excitement, the way he licks his lips in anticipation. 

And then he can’t wait any longer, he swoops down and presses their lips together. 

After everything they did today Steve can’t believe that this— his lips sliding against Eddie’s, the slightest hint of tongue, the way they’re both smiling into the kiss— is what has his insides melting into a puddle of goo. Then again, everything else could be excused as a ‘heat of the moment’ kind of thing, but not this. 

“Hm, if I knew guys in panties did it for you, Stevie, I would’ve left mine lying around somewhere for you to find much sooner,” Eddie says once the kiss slows down naturally and they’re just resting their foreheads together and breathing each other’s air. 

Steve chuckles. “It’s not just about the panties though, it’s, uh, it’s about you. I’d still be into you if I’d found Weird Al boxers in your dresser instead.”

Eddie cackles, his arms wrapping around Steve and trapping him against his chest. They really should clean up before they’re stuck together permanently. “I can’t say I own those but for you, Stevie, I’ll find some.”

“I think I’d prefer if you bought more panties,” Steve teases, his finger playing with the little pink bow just below Eddie’s navel.

“Whatever you want,” Eddie says once again. “I mean it.”

“What if I want you to be my boyfriend?” Steve asks a little shyly. 

Eddie plants a sloppy kiss on Steve’s forehead. “Done.”

***

Next time Steve buys panties for Eddie— to make up for the ones he ruined— he brings him along and lets him pick. 

“Whatever you want, Eds,” Steve tells him, echoing his words.

Steve knows he’ll like seeing Eddie in anything he picks— 

And he’ll like it even more when he can take it off of him. 

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

You know, just like Alexia and Irene are seen as the "moms" of the Barca and Spanish teams, I see you as our mother figure here on WOSO Tumblr.

Always offering wise, thoughtful perspectives on everything, staying calm and composed even when others are heated.

You don’t let the haters get under your skin, and when necessary, you respond with the perfect balance of grace and firmness, putting them in their place without breaking a sweat.

You’re probably the oldest one here—NO OFFENSE!!!! But with that comes more experience and wisdom, so it’s definitely a compliment!

haha, no offense taken, and thank you for your very kind words, anon! sometimes i do feel a maternal instinct, especially around new fans 🫶

but also i recognise that i am one of the older ones in this fandom, which just means i am not afraid to call a spade a spade and will be willing to call out bad behaviour and shed light on what is problematic.

like i said before your favourite players are not perfect humans. they will make mistakes and they will screw up. this does not necessarily mean that they are bad human beings! but we all have unconscious biases and ignorant behaviours that need to be dismantled and/or unlearnt.

and with age comes understanding what are the types of errors you should call out. and rather than twisting yourself into a pretzel to try and defend them, how about using this as a learning opportunity so you don't fall into the same mistakes?!

[ghostie-in-wonderland]

The Grocery Store

Fluff; gn! reader

Kento Nanami is a family man. More importantly he loves domesticity. He craves it. So, one of his favorite things to do is grocery shop. The task that for most is a mundane chore, is something he genuinely loves. However, he only loves it on one condition: that he goes grocery shopping with (Name). Obviously if it’s a quick little thing that (Name) or he needs from the store, he’ll go alone or (Name) could go alone, but if it’s for the next couple days. He wants to go with (Name). In going with (Name), that also means that the kids come. 

How does (Name) and Kento wrangle four children under the age of ten and occasionally Yuji? The answer is simple. The twins are put on leashes. Emi is put into one of those baby carriers that strap onto your front, Kento usually chooses to carry her. Rin is to hold onto either a hand of one of her parents or the cart, usually she is bribed with a book. In terms of Yuji, he would be the ones holding the leashes. If Yuji isn't there, Kento and (Name) each take one twin. Kento is the type to make a list of what is needed at the store. He goes through the aisles very methodically. (Name) on the other hand, doesn’t carry a list with them and they are definitely not the type to be methodical with shopping. The one time (Name) had a “list” the shopping only took thirty minutes, but they forget four items and lapped around the store about six times before finally ready to check out. The twins loved it, Yuji thought it made sense, and Emi giggled the entire time. Rin was just happy she was getting two books that day. Kento vowed to never let (Name) lead the shopping. No offense to them, but it was not relaxing. 

Grocery Shopping in the Nanami household goes something like this:

“(Name), are you ready?” Kento asked. (Name) nodded their head. 

“Yup!” Kento nodded, grabbing the list and the leashes. Emi was already strapped to his chest. (Name) stood there for a moment, grinning at the sight. 

“(Name), Rin’s asking how many books she can get?” Yuji asked, dragging Rin with him. 

“Only one, you know the rule Rin.” (Name) said, smiling down at their daughter. Rin nodded. Kento pulled the leash backpacks onto Kyoka and Natsu. Yuji happily taking the twins leashes. “Kyoka, Natsu, remember to be good. We can’t have a repeat of last time.” (Name) commented. Kyoka groaning. 

“You trip someone one time.” She mumbled. 

“Don’t worry I won’t let it happen again!” Yuji said, smiling at (Name).  

“That makes me more worried.” Kento stated. Yuji looking at him slightly offended, (Name) giggling. 

“I believe in you, Yuji.” They said, Yuji grinning at that. 

“See! They believe me!” Yuji said to Kento, pointing at (Name). The group finally leaving after getting ready for thirty minutes. The family making their way to the grocery store. Kento keeping an eye on the twins and Yuji, while (Name) checked on Rin, holding onto Rin’s hand as they walked. The family reached the store, casually walking around the market, Kento leading them through the aisles. The twins occasionally trying to sneak different items in. (Name) putting them back where they were on the shelves. “(parent title) can we go grab the eggs?” Kyoka asked (Name). (Name) looked to Kento, before nodding, seeing if they needed eggs. 

“You only grab eggs. You still have snacks you haven’t finished at home.” The twins nodding, leaving with Yuji to grab eggs. Kento continued leading (Name) around the store. The twins and Yuji eventually coming back with only eggs. The group finally started checking out thirty minutes after entering the store, heading back home. Kyoka mumbling about how bored she was with the lack of entertaining incidents this shopping trip. Well… that was until Yuji tripped on the leashes and fell over.

"That's the second time you've tripped over my leash Yuji, are you sure you know how to walk?" Kyoka sassed. She would not let him forget it for the rest of the day, or week.

[shokosmokes]

﹒◌﹒hockey au﹒✧﹒

part 4!

im glad u guys are enjoying this as much as i am (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

this chapter is a short one lining up the next chapter - this one’s bit more angsty

m.list

———————————————————————

yuji x reader x megumi

tags:

a bit of angst, fluff, love triangle

The crowd is roaring, but all you can hear is the steady thump of your heart against your ribs. You haven’t seen them together since that last match. The memory still clings to you, the way the air felt so thick between all three of you. Now, standing in the packed stadium, nerves bundled tightly in your stomach, you try to focus on the game.

The whistle blows, and the match begins. Yuji is all energy, his athleticism on full display as he darts across the ice. Megumi, more composed but no less skilled, skates with calculated precision. You can’t help but follow both of them, your eyes torn between their movements. It’s thrilling, but in the back of your mind, all you can think about is what will happen afterward.

When the final buzzer sounds, signaling their win, the crowd erupts. Your nerves spike again. You should be excited, but all you feel is the tension building in your chest. You make your way down toward the locker room, telling yourself to stay cool. No need to make things more awkward than they already are.

As soon as you see them—Yuji’s bright smile as he spots you, Megumi’s gaze flicking between the two of you—you know something has shifted. The three of you stand there, and despite their victory, there’s an odd weight hanging between you.

"Congrats!" you manage, your voice a little too chipper as you force a smile. “You guys were amazing out there.”

Yuji grins wider, his energy contagious. “Thanks! Did you see that shot I made? I’ve been practicing that for days.” He’s glowing with excitement, the happiness radiating off of him.

You laugh, the tension easing as you fall into your usual banter. “Oh, that shot? You mean the one you almost missed if Megumi hadn’t bailed you out?”

Yuji gasps in mock offense, slapping a hand to his chest. “Okay, rude! I had it perfectly under control!”

"Sure you did," you tease, feeling the familiar ease settle in. It feels good to talk to Yuji like this, his goofy charm always so easy to fall into.

But as the conversation flows naturally between you and Yuji, you catch glimpses of Megumi from the corner of your eye. He’s watching you both, his expression quiet, almost distant. And with every passing moment, he seems to grow more withdrawn, his usual calm presence replaced by something more guarded. It’s not like him to fade into the background like this.

Yuji, as oblivious as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. “Hey, we should all hang out this weekend. Celebrate the win, you know?”

"Yeah, maybe," you say, your voice trailing off as you glance back at Megumi. He hasn’t said a word since the conversation started, his gaze now lowered to the ground, avoiding yours.

“I gotta head out,” Megumi mutters, his voice low as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’ll catch you guys later.” Before you can say anything, he turns and walks off, leaving you standing there with Yuji.

You blink, confused. “Did I… did I say something?”

Yuji just shrugs, though a frown tugs at his lips. “That’s just Megumi being Megumi. Don’t sweat it.”

But it doesn’t feel right. As you watch him leave, that gnawing feeling returns, settling heavily in your chest. Something is off, and you can’t shake the sense that whatever it is, it isn’t going away.

---

In the days that follow, Megumi grows even more distant. It’s not just in passing conversation—it’s like he’s actively avoiding you. No more random texts, no more inside jokes, nothing. Every time you try to talk to him, he finds a way to brush you off or disappear altogether.

The hollow ache that started small in your chest grows each time he pulls away, until it feels like all you can think about is the space between you. The moments where he would usually be are filled with silence now, and you can’t stop wondering why.

It hurts. More than you want to admit.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzes. You grab it off your bed, half-expecting it to be Megumi, hoping it will be, but it’s not. It’s Yuji.

*Hey! You wanna hang out? Been too long.*

You stare at the message, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For a second, you consider saying no, making some excuse about being too busy. But then you think about Megumi, about how much the distance between you is eating at you, and decide that maybe you need a distraction. Something to get your mind off of it.

*Sure, when and where?* you reply.

Maybe spending time with Yuji will help. Maybe it will make the ache in your chest a little less unbearable.

———————————————————————

already in the midst of writing the next part so expect an update fairly soon hehe

thanks 4 the read !!

[bright-and-burning]

keep forgetting my experiences aren’t universal… at my core i am just a grimy zoomer who spent college in essentially a co-ed frat. and that is Not the norm 😔

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of my earlier jobs in life was at a little pizza place. I worked there when it was first starting up. It’s the only job I’ve ever been fired from and it was because a new manager came in and cleaned house. Because my state requires a reason to be fired he said I used too much pepperoni. So now on job applications I get to write that I was fired for “excessive use of pepperoni.” Never fails to get a laugh.

Anyway! For this story to make sense I’ve first got to set the stage. This pizza place started out as the Wild West of management but one of the original investors was super committed to work programs through the prison. We hired a ton of ex convicts and they were all, to a one, super hyped on Christianity. Like born again for the sole purpose of lauding Christ with their every breath.

I hadn’t been working there long but I’d definitely noticed the Jesus bug had gone around, and as I’ve never been religious at all I tried to steer clear of the topic for my own safety.

The day our story takes place, I was folding boxes. Anyone whose ever worked pizza can attest, there’s so much box folding. It’s something that happens at every lull, the pizza machine demands box folding on a grand and epic scale.

On my right folding his stack of boxes was a guy wider than he was tall, made of pure muscle, Corey. He was newer on staff, and due to a stutter he didn’t talk much. All I knew about him was that he got hired through the rehabilitation program and had done time.

On my left folding was a tall middle-aged woman who loved to yell at me, Cindy. She and I rubbed each other the wrong way and had nothing in common, leading to a tense working relationship.

We folded boxes in silence. This was really my best case scenario as a quiet Cindy was a Cindy not riding my ass, and Corey intimidated me.

But the weight of the silence grew too much for Cindy, who finally said, “I really want to go to bible school.”

I folded a box. I had less than no idea what bible school even was and I didn’t want to get sucked into a religious topic.

On my right Corey said, “W-why, Cindy?”

“Well, cause I believe what’s in the Bible, but I just don’t know it all.”

He nodded sagely to this.

Cindy continued, “And every time I sit down to read the Bible I get real sleepy. And I know it’s the devil.”

It’s so hard to convey her tone in written format. It was delivered with the emphasis and exasperation of an inevitable inconvenience. Like, I just know it’s the squirrels eating the bird seed.

I froze in place at this pronouncement. My only exposure to Lucifer was Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics and I was trying to mentally twist into a frame of mind where The Morningstar cared enough about this one middle aged lady expanding her knowledge of the Bible that he followed her around cursing her with sleepiness when she picked it up.

I think I expected Corey to say, “Well that’s silly,” or something to acknowledge what a bizarre thing Cindy had just said.

Instead he said, “Yeah!” In a tone of complete agreement.

I didn’t look up. I tried to keep my face neutral at this development.

But something must have shown. Corey said, “You don’t believe in God?”

I shrugged casually and said, “If I did I wouldn’t talk about it at work.”

“C-cause it’s t-true. If y-you t-ry to r-read the B-bible on unsanctif-fied gr-round the d-devil m-makes you s-sleepy!”

I made a noncommittal sound and fled into the back room.

Over the next week it drove me crazy though. The logic of it wouldn’t leave me alone so finally one day when it was just Corey and I in front, and the restaurant was empty, I said, “Hey man, I have a question.”

He shrugged and listened.

“I really don’t mean this with any disrespect, I just genuinely want to know about the logistics-“

“J-ust ask.”

“Okay, so if Cindy gets tired when she reads any book, is it only the devil making her tired when it’s the Bible?”

His face went purple with fury and he yelled, “F-fuck you!” at my retreating back as I fled once more into the back room.

It will forever remain a mystery.

[legokingfisher]

Are we gonna talk about the fact that Nokt shoved his flaming hand into Ras’ face or

[crustyfloor]

The way Till looked genuinely pissed off because of Ivan but he’s not mean about it. Just thinking. The fact that he didn’t just say fuck off right then and there when Ivan asked him for a kiss, but he instead worked around it, as if after realizing Ivan was actually serious he said this as an attempt to pacify Ivan. because even though we get the irony here, it does look like Till trying to ‘let him down easy.’

Even his internal dialogue is harsh, but he doesn’t voice it.

And when Ivan starts whining and getting in his space again, Till doesn’t bother pressing it and just lets Ivan sulk, as if he’s simply handling a pouty child. Like he’s used to it and just letting it be, it doesn’t mean he liked it but Till really wasn’t trying to hurt Ivan.

(even more unsurprising how no punches were thrown, again. Till can only be provoked into acting that way, had this been Ivan’s perspective I’m sure this situation would have looked a lot more narrow-minded)

[fritzmonorail]

Why is Two being so mean? Is it just the writer? I don’t remember him being like this.

Like wtf don’t talk to Jamie like that. I don’t even know if I wanna watch this. Feel free to tell me if I’m overreacting. I’ve never heard the doctor hate on the way their companion talks like that.

He doesn’t even sound like he’s joking. He sounds genuinely mad. And poor Jamie’s just taking it like a champ. Who wrote this? Does he have some personal issues with Scottish people that he needs to work through?

In short, my first impression of Six’s era:

People are mean here and I want to go home.

[real-reulbbr-band]

isn’t it so weird that cats- the show where you have to interpret certain aspects to create your understanding of the world, its characters, and relationships

has a fandom subgenre that just loves shitting on “wrong” interpretations because they don’t agree with it or like it.

[whenthegoldrays]

might get canceled for this but I think it’s funny how people are like “ohh North and South 2004 has flaws but I still love it because Richard Armitage 🤩” and I’m like huh. interesting. I love it despite Richard Armitage.

[cowchickenbeefpork]

List of cluster b characters I like

(DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT HAVE ANY CLUSTER B DISORDERS I DO NOT KNOW MORE ABOUT THE DISORDERS THAN DOCTORS OR PEOPLE WITH THEM DO I JUST LIKE LEARNING ABOUT CLUSTER B DISORDERS SINCE I LIKE LEARNING ABOUT MENTAL DISORDERS AND I HAVE FRIENDS WITH CLUSTER B DISORDERS ANYWAYS. DO NOT EXPECT ME TO BE 100% CORRECT I AM NOT THE BEACON OF ALL KNOWLEDGE IF SOMETHING IS OFFENSIVE HERE I WILL APOLOGIZE AND TAKE DOWN THE POST)

[iguessitsjustme]

I know Moo and Kang are kind and forgiving and wonderful human beings. I’m not though. Shone is getting pushed right off thr cliff.

If you answer “not me” congrats on being a good person. You are so much better than I am. But also if you ever need a mean friend to deal with someone for you, congrats, I’m your friend now.

[bonesashesglass]

Jumblr is trending again cuz it’s where zionists like to go to hide (obviously not everyone in the jumblr tag, there are some genuine great posts about Jewish culture and takes and all sorts of stuff, and I wish that was the entire tag, but unfortunately most of what I saw just now was people trying to justify a genocide)

Looking at those posts…the mental gymnastics people go through to convince themselves that Israel is somehow morally correct here and anyone supporting Palestine is evil and anti-Semitic is crazy. I mean those posts are practically unintelligible

[lulu2992]

I’d like to (finally) talk about this interview with Mark Thompson, Narrative Director on Far Cry 4:

I love it when devs talk about their work because it’s always super interesting and informative! This video is no exception.

But what struck me most when I first saw the interview is what he says about Far Cry 3, a title he also worked on as a Level Design Director, which I believe means he was not (or barely) involved in the writing of the script. When he mentions what he thinks the issues with the game were and what had to be “fixed” in Far Cry 4, the thing is that... he often contradicts what Jeffrey Yohalem, Lead Writer on Far Cry 3, explained in various articles.

Under the cut, I highlighted some parts of Mark Thompson’s interview (in red) and compared them to Jeffrey Yohalem’s words (in blue, with the sources) so you can see how different their points of view are.

In this case, when it comes to the story and meaning of Far Cry 3, I’m inclined to give more credence to the Lead Writer’s explanations, but I think this example perfectly illustrates how even people who worked on the same project can have very different (and sometimes equally valid) opinions, understandings, and feelings about it, and why it can therefore be difficult for the audience to determine what the “truth” or the “right” interpretation is…

Open world vs story

MT: We ended up shipping a game where the open world had a lot of cool stuff, but it didn’t have a lot of depth or meaning, and it had almost no connection to what was happening in the story. And in fact, in some ways, the two were kind of opposed and they were kind of conflicting each other. So, on one hand, the story itself had this ticking time bomb of “I have these friends that I need to rescue, but holy sh*t, collecting plants, finding that next animal I need for the next upgrade, getting that next skill point… Oh, look, there’s a radio tower! Wait, wasn’t I heading to that outpost?” And then you’re like, “Oh yeah, sh*t, my friend Keith’s trapped in the basement, I should probably go rescue him… I’m a terrible friend.” That was my main goal: fix this sh*t and make sure that the story and the open world speak to each other, complement each other; strip everything down so that the story and the open world are the same thing and it’s the same game.

JY: People who have looked at the surface of the game think that the story and the game are at war with each other as they are in most games, with the story just plugging potholes and the gameplay is going along its merry way. I think it’s very exaggerated that, “Oh, go save the friends! Go save the friends!” but most people are out on the island doing all this other crazy stuff and experiencing the gameplay. And that’s actually the point of the story. It’s not a game about go save your friends. It’s a game about – doing a lot of picking skins from things, and wait, it’s just a pile of meat – this doesn’t even make sense, yet I’m still doing it instead of saving the friends. (Rock Paper Shotgun - Dec. 19, 2012)

The “white savior” trope

MT: We were definitely aware of some of the tropes that we fell into - unintentionally in some cases, intentionally in some - and (…) almost the first thing that we did was decide how we were gonna address the white savior trope, the outsider who comes in and helps simple people with his outsider’s kind of more advanced understanding of the world. (...) The first thing we said was, “This guy is from Kyrat, no matter what happens. That is the most important thing; he is part of this world, he belongs here.”

JY: “It’s a first-person game, and Jason is a 25-year old white guy from Los Angeles. From Hollywood. So his view of what’s going on on this island is his own view, and you happen to be looking through his eyes, so you’re seeing his view,” Yohalem explained. “It’s set on an island in the South Pacific, so immediately the thing that comes to mind is the white colonial trope, the Avatar trope. I started with that, and it’s like, ‘Here’s what pop culture thinks about traveling to a new place,’ and the funny thing is, that’s an exaggeration of most games, they just don’t expose it. (The Penny Arcade Report - Dec. 17, 2012)

JY: There’s a reason why Jason is a 25 year old white guy from Hollywood – these are all ideas that are in his head. You’re seeing things through his eyes. (...) It’s not that [Citra] needed a white saviour at all. She didn’t need a white guy at all. She was just looking for the ultimate warrior and someone to be her gun. (...) If this was about the white messiah motif, would I be so stupid as to have a main character’s nickname be Snow White? I’m making fun of that! (Rock Paper Shotgun - Dec. 19, 2012)

The player and the protagonist

MT: When we were doing the script review, almost immediately, the first thing we would do would be, “Okay, so how many lines does Ajay have? Okay, cut that by 75%”, and then we would review it and then cut out even more. Whenever possible, we would set up a scenario where we know or we think we know how players would react, and so we would remove the line that the character would actually say and then have the other person react to it. “Oh, you think that, do you?” - in that kind of way, so they’re like, “Oh f*ck, how did he know I was gonna say that?” Whereas, if the protagonist said that line, they’re like, “Oof, I wouldn’t have said that”, and then suddenly you’re kind of broken out of the experience. (…) When you’re in first-person, all you hear is this disconnected voice that might not be agreeing with what you’re doing. So, again, it’s just about stripping away those barriers of immersion so you can imagine yourself in this scenario.

JY: In Far Cry 3, Jason is a character and he’s not the player. The player is another character in the game. Sometimes Jason disagrees with the player, and sometimes Jason agrees with him. And the magic of that is that then it doesn’t matter! Basically, as long as the whole narrative is directed towards what the player is feeling—which for me is how videogames should be—then I get to target Jason as a resource where players can go: “I disagree with Jason.” And the player gets to convince Jason to do something else. So instead of trying to force the two of them together, I’ve decoupled them. (Killscreen - Dec. 12, 2012)