#he's a bully i hate him

[willowser]

"hey,"

you don't know how long katsuki's been standing over you saying it, but the minute you come to, you realize that's the sound that had been echoing over and over in your dreams.

"hmm?" you blink him into clarity before stretching out over your pillow, extending one arm far above your head. there's a crack in your back and your ankles that relaxes you to a dangerous amount. "what?"

katsuki's home; it's one thing that makes your heart lift, as you bury half your face in the comforter. he's fresh from a shower, the sharp smell of his body-wash trickling into the stale air that's been trapped in your room, scrubbing it clean.

there's a frown on his face, deeper and softer than usual. "the hell are y'doin'? you been in bed all day?"

all day; you force yourself to sit up a little straighter, wincing from the over-tired headache that awakens in your skull at the movement. sure enough, it's light outside, albeit gray and dull. still rainy, urging you to stay in and all cuddled up.

you ignore his question, furrowing your brows as you put two-and-two together. "i thought you were working through the night?"

the sigh he lets out is long and heavy, sounding like it's been trapped in his chest for a while, and he slumps with it down onto the bed. sitting beside your sprawled out form, eying you carefully as his hand goes to rest on your hip over the blanket. he ignores your question, too.

"i called you twice and you didn't answer."

"did you?" you roll, feeling suddenly like a slob then, as you pat around the sheets and under the pillows until you find your phone. katsuki called you three times, and texted you twice; once to tell you he loved you, and another to tell you to pick the hell up. "i'm sorry, my sound must have been off."

the shift written on the fridge calendar read until early, early tomorrow morning; you're sure of it. there's no way you've slept that long, and the afternoon outside speaks to that, too. and if you weren't answering when he called, and now he's here, then —

tears sting deep in your eyes and you rub them so he won't know. "ugh, god, i'm so sorry." when you sniff, his hand tightens on your hip. "please don't tell me you came home 'cause of me."

but he doesn't say anything, and if you move your hands away, he'll see. it's no secret that katsuki's an early riser, and any amount of time he loses to sleep is a waste, he thinks, especially on his off days, or if he is able to spend the morning with you before going in late. sleeping in longer has always made you feel a little embarrassed; here is this pro-hero whose hours are twice as long as yours and yet he still finds time to workout and clean and cook and function like an adult human being.

katsuki doesn't say anything and when his weight disappears from the bed, you peek out to watch him toe off the boots he's still wearing and shrug out of his sweatshirt. even though your angled half-way on his side of the bed, he doesn't seem to mind, crawling in behind you to pull your body flush against his.

the familiar heaviness of his arm over your waist is comforting, but your desire to nestle down for another nap is a shame you struggle to fight off.

his nose strokes back and forth across your shoulder, like he's thinking until he finally mumbles, "'s'wrong with you?"

you don't know. you've just been feeling — down lately. a want for some isolation and too weary to keep up conversation. now guilty, that you've made him skip out on work because you couldn't get the hell out of bed.

you're going to cry again and so you turn into him, pressing your frown and hot tears into the fabric of his tank top. "i don't know," you choke, "i'm sorry i made you—"

"god, stop," he grunts, resting his forehead in your hair, his lips near your temple where your headache is throbbing. "don't apologize to me." you're frowning too deep to speak, so you just nod. the flex of muscle in his arm is obvious against your back, hands probably fists now, as he tightens his hold on you. pulling you so close that your cheeks squish. "what—" he cuts himself off with another sigh, tucking his head down so he's almost completely encapsulating you.

trying, you think, to be what you need even if he doesn't know what that is.

katsuki thinks in solution, what he needs to do next to prevent something from happening again. whether it's work related or something tumultuous rocking your relationship, he's always been so progressive, so now what?

but you don't know what you need, either.

"i don't know," you sigh, wiggling until he pulls back so that you can look at each other. "i just don't feel like myself, i guess."

he uses the pad of one thumb to wipe at your wet face, a little roughly, and when you sniff, his nose crinkles meanly. "snot-nose."

"hey," you whine, reaching between you to jab at his ribs until he squirms, ticklish even if he won't admit it. a fat kiss is planted on your forehead and you give him a small, sincere smile, even if your head still aches.

"come eat with me," he commands lightly, rubbing a hand across your stomach, resting on your ribs when you stretch and your shirt shifts up your body.

"and then we can take a bath?" you grin at him, poking at his cheeks as they warm just a bit, though he's quick to bite you, trapping your finger gently between his teeth until you can tug it away.

"yeah," he says, pressing his nose against yours, "because you stink,"

"katsuki!" you squeal, swatting him when he laughs into your neck. "you're not supposed to bully me when i'm sad!"

he simply hums, staying curled into you, stroking his thumb across your skin. "don't turn the sound off on your phone when you're home." when you mumble out a apologetic agreement, he pulls back to look at you, face light and teasing. katsuki doesn't always play with you like this, doesn't always have the energy, but he's doing his best now.

trying, to be what you need.

he squishes your cheeks in his hand until your lips are puckered. "and if you don't wanna get outta bed, then i'll drag you everywhere."

"will you stuff me in your clothes so that i can just go wherever you go?"

he snorts, shaking his head like that's the silliest thing he's ever heard — but he sighs and eventually nods. "yeah, deal."

you smile at him, even if he stinks, too. "deal."

[hiphopcherrrypop]

something sowmthing the kageyama brothers + their blue eyed weirdboys

[tinynerdycthulu]

tbh i dunno why so many sj apologists are anti-yqy. because like????? he is your mascot. he was the originator. the head honcho of excusing sj's levels of unmitigated villainy. look into my eyes and tell me that qi ge wouldn't blush and kick his feet if he saw xiao jiu commit murder. actually we don't NEED to imagine bc jiumei did just that and yue qi just grabbed his hand and ran, no thoughts head empty. arson? child abuse?? yue qi doesn't care. whatever makes xiao jiu happy <3

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

[sadboyhrs]

Steve is the best ally-

Steve supports Nancy-

Steve is a great big brother figure-

Steve would always protect the kids-

Steve is a good fighter-

Hopper loves Steve like a son-

[annqer]

Knowledge is the measure of all things. It reveals truth... and falsehood.

[shootingthe-stars]

with every god awful take about james potter on the internet an angel loses its wings.

what do you mean he didn’t care about the dark arts and death eaters until it affected him personally. what. you mean the famously blood traitor potter family? you mean one of the only actual canon things we have about james being that he hated the dark arts? you mean the james that yelled at snape for calling lily a mudblood?? you mean the james that went on the front lines of a war he had the privilege to not fight in????

please anti blood supremacy is literally ingrained in his core beliefs can we just keep this ONE THING about him 😭

[prettiest-boy-around]

i laugh whenever someone says harry was popular/well-liked/respected, cuz really? we talking about the same harry here? the one who was ostracized and mocked by his peers in literally 3/6 of his school years? the guy who everyone treated like either a celebrity crush or a ticking bomb? you say he was RESPECTED? sorry, do we need to go over what respect is again?

[fruit-colored-ninja]

I think it’s so funny how many ninjago show fics (both au and canon compliant) have kai going through an ‘I hate this kid so fukcing much he ruins everything he SUCKS’ phase about lloyd at first and then movie fics are almost always like. Hello I’m Kai this is lloyd I met him five minutes ago and if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in the room and then myself and if you say a SINGLE bad thing about him because of his father I’ll kill you too

[eddiesghxst]

steddie x sensitive!reader where eddie’s ur best friend that you do ‘more than best friend’ things with and steve was the asshole at school that would tease you and always make you cry.

eddie knew about it but he didn’t know your bully was steve so when eddie and steve start working together and you stop by one day eddie doesn’t think much of it when u see steve and ur really jumpy and look like ur ready to bolt out of there because you’re often shy around strangers.

and steve doesn’t even fucking remember you and so when you leave steve is like “is she always that jumpy?? like was i being weird or??” and eddie just shakes his head and is like “nah she just has a hard time w strangers. some asshole used to tease the shit out of her in high school. she never told me who it was but the day i find out i swear i’ll hunt them down and strangle them myself.” and steve is like wow what kind of an asshole would do that to a girl like you??

because steve thinks you’re pretty and sweet and he likes you and he thinks he wants to ask you out but how will he do that when he: 1 - can’t seem to have a conversation with you and not scare you off 2 - is convinced you and eddie are definitely dating even if eddie says it’s not like that and 3 - can’t decide who he’s more jealous of when he sees how close you two are

because is that even normal? is it normal to like two people at the same time? is it normal to feel left out when you and eddie are snuggled together during movie night? is it normal to want to hold both of your hands, kiss both you, touch both of you??? iS iT ?!!?!

[imaginmatrix]

“Percy Jackson would be a marine biologist” “no he’d be a fireman” “no he’d drop out of school” “no he’d—“

Everyone be quiet that man got his degree in social work and specializes in advocating for children with learning disabilities and rough home lives while scoping out potential demigods. He’s not gonna let any child, whether they’re mortal and dealing with a Gabe or half-god and dealing with monsters, feel like he did.

[dizzybizz]

I request (1) of dan heng and mc just vibing or chilling. I give free reign to any details and stuff apart from that.

i know in my heart that dan heng fucking sucks at video games of any kind

[baselicoc]

i know that atsv and spiderverse in general is probably not including Gabe for various reasons and therefore when Mig took his alt selfs place he wasnt actually leaving anyone behind. he said something along the lines of “i found a universe where i was happy” which kinda screams that something was fucked up with his home one, i’d like to think more than usual because the other explanation is that he just left like all his family behind. Which is extremely messed up but also on the other hand a little funny

like imagine being gabe here. Imagine your older brother fucks off to another universe because of his depression and comes back with even worse depression ranting some shit about canon events. You have to be told where he went by his AI because god knows your brother has all the communication skills of a rusty spoon. Have to be told he fucking left with no intention of coming back

[ohlookitsthearkhamknight]

I like how there were two (2) good days on twitter and then someone brought a cameo and apparently thats a war crime or something?!?!? Fuck off it’s not your money!?!?!? We love Lou and like listening to his opinions ffs. And if I see one more thing about “Oliver is a b*ddie warrior” or “Oliver doesn’t like Lou/Tommy and wants b*ddie” when Ryan is over here CONFIRMING Eddie is straight/b*ddie is never happening im going to lose it. You lost. Its over. QUIT FUCKING HARASSING PEOPLE IT DOESN’T GET YOU WHAT YOU WANT. Im sorry you didn’t get your ship but there is no need to attack everyone else.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[bylertruther]

people who think will byers hates himself for being gay when will byers is one of the very few characters on the show that has refused to change himself to fit anyone else's idea of what he should be despite the fact that people, including his own father, have been harassing, bullying, and abusing him for it literally his entire fucking life are just...... so weird.

will's entire POINT is that he will survive and brave whatever you throw his way against all odds and come out on the other side of it still clutching on to his sense of self and hope that tomorrow will be a better day. the entire point of his character is that he loves what he loves without apology or shame.

he sings "that weird song he loves" in the middle of hell because it reminds him of his brother and offers him comfort in a place where there is none. he creates art because he loves it and doesn't care if it isn't something boys do, then he gifts it to his friends because he loves them and wants them to know it, too. he loves dnd and writes campaigns and dresses up for them because they bring him joy and he just wants to spend time with his friends even if they think they're "too cool" for it now.

he knows that sometimes it's harder than it should be to be gay in a homophobic society and has been harassed for that literally his entire fucking life it's LITERALLY how they introduce him to us not even twenty minutes into this fucking show and YET !!!!!!! he doesn't back away from that. ever.

he gets picked on for his clothes, but he doesn't change them. he gets called names, but he doesn't make any attempt to conform. his best friend, the boy that he's in love with and his very first friend ever, tells him it isn't his fault that he doesn't like girls and shamefully asks him if he really thought they were going to play games together in his basement for the rest of their lives and never get girlfriends, and what does will do?

he says yeah. i guess i did. i really did.

will faces all of that and goes to a new place where he has the golden opportunity of a clean slate, and what does he do? when assigned to do a presentation on his hero... he picks alan turing of all people. and when his brother later on tells him that he loves him no matter what, essentially giving him the It's Okay To Be Gay I Love You So Much And Always Will talk, still there is no denial on will's part here either.

will has NEVER, EVER denied being gay. he has NEVER tried to change that part of himself. he has ALWAYS stood tall and braved another day even when it was scary and hard. he has ALWAYS remained true to himself even though that has only ever made his life that much harder.

he said that sometimes he feels like a mistake for being so different from other people, but that being loved and accepted makes him feel like he isn't one at all and like he's better for being different and that gives him the courage to fight on.

literally what the fuck are you guys on about when you talk about will being self-hating for being gay. where is the canonical evidence for that? and more than that, why are you so keen on throwing away all of his acts of bravery and the sheer fucking strength of character that he's had since the very beginning? it would've been so much easier for him to conform, to be the "man" that everyone has always pushed him to be, but he doesn't ever do that. he stays true to himself no matter what. so, again, where the hell are these self-hating receipts?!