#tommy on the other hand really is Just Some Guy other than being maybe a bit insufferable

[snippyschnapps]

to the people who occasionally leave kudos and bookmarks on of ratty shirts and beasts (and such and so forth) on ao3 in the year 2022: i love you, you make my day. also i am very sorry for not updating it the characters have just changed a lot since then and even though it’s always been an au of an original work i’ve still kind of gotten out of the swing of writing them.

i’ve considered that maybe one day I’ll either rewrite it with the new characterisations but idk. OR potentially i might just change the canon of the thing its based on (weirdward/yesternight stuff involving my character sam) to fit a new version of ratty shirts cause i mean… honestly who was i kidding the “eldritch monster is employee at local co-op in small town or some shit” was always gonna be a more engaging plot than any other possible thing i could do with sam, my god. i love to see this bitch getting into Situations (and apparently you guys do as well)

[joelsmochi]

Dirty Lies

SUMMARY: Joel realized how much you matured since he last saw you 4 years ago and can’t resist you. WARNINGS: age gap [reader is 22, joel is 35], smut minors dni, no descriptions of reader aside from having shoulder length hair & having a girly sense of fashion, pervy!joel, shy-ish!joel, needy!joel, reader seduces joel. 18+ WARNINGS: infidelity if you squint (technicalities people), brief objectification, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, reader was a lying little shit in high school but it paid off WC: 7.3k [please read author's note]

A/N: this was originally going to be a 15k word long smut as part of my LDR series, but........ I figured the more parts I can make out of it the more content I can produce, so here is part one of Us Against The World. Enjoy :) Edit: I’m rereading this and noticing a few typos, I apologize about those! Grammarly isn’t so helpful sometimes…

There you were in your blue tank top and yoga pants laying with your father’s dog in the middle of the front yard. You had just returned from New York a few days earlier from college, which your father amicably told Joel about over a few beers the week before.

Joel was expecting to see your 18-year-old self: long hair, sparkly eyeshadow, dressed in your late mother’s hand-me-downs from the 80s. But that was no longer you.

You dressed more modern and age-appropriate. Your hair was shorter, looked curlier, and you had highlights. Your eyebrows were thinner and your face was free from the loud makeup your teenage self was accustomed to. Joel would make jokes from time to time about how he believed you were just born with glitter all over your eyes.

Joel felt a little silly thinking you wouldn’t have changed. Who doesn’t make a drastic change when they leave high school? He hadn’t found the time to stop by and say hello but he wasn’t necessarily rushing it.

He’d met your father when you guys moved in next door in 1993 and he remembered you introduced yourself the second you saw him and Sarah playing outside despite your father’s protests.

You told Joel about how your dad was only being grumpy because he’d just turned thirty-six. Something about getting old. You didn’t bother to retain that information.

But here you were: all grown up. It reminded Joel of the day he overheard you and your best friend talking about how handsome you thought he was. He wondered if you still felt that way.

You sat up, feeling the sense that someone was watching you; your eyes scanned around until instinct made you look to the same window Joel was standing in.

For some reason, he didn’t feel embarrassed about being caught staring. He offered you an energetic smile and you took in his appearance.

He hadn’t changed much — his hair was a little longer and he had a few more fine lines across his face, but he was still the handsome man you remembered and admired.

You stand up and walk over to the window prompting him to open it.

“Hey, creep,” you teased with a big grin, “how ya been?”

Even your voice sounded different with its blend of Texas and New York. It was sultry with a hint of confidence. He tried not to let his weaknesses show.

“I’m doing all right… Sorry for starin’. Could hardly tell that was you,” he responded.

You just barely saw his eyes glance down to your chest, and it made you smirk.

Had this been any other man you’d have your fist meeting their jaw, but it wasn’t any other man. It was Joel. You hadn’t forgotten that he was attractive, but you did forget just how attractive. Or maybe his sexiness came with his age.

Not like it mattered anyways. It wasn’t like you could make a move.

“I been gettin’ that a lot… Dad tells me you’re a contractor now with Tommy.”

Joel nodded and said, “Yep, hated workin’ for other people, so…”

You were unsure if you were being awkward or if it was just… Awkward.

“Cool. Yeah, no, I get that. How is Tommy, by the way? Is he still really cute?” You giggled.

This made Joel roll his eyes. “Not cuter than me,” he answered begrudgingly. You watched how his eyes faltered again, trailing from your lips to your belly ring. “Your dad let you get that?”

You scoffed and waved your hand lazily as if you were swatting his condescending tone away. “One, Dad can’t tell me what to do with my body. And two, Tommy was always the cuter one.”

“S’that so?” Joel grunted as if he were tempted to laugh.

You gave him a cunning look and nodded. “Yeah. But you were always more handsome.”

Joel found himself blushing at the compliment, trying to wipe the redness away with his calloused palm to no avail.

You let out a quiet teetering laugh and looked back to make sure your dog was okay for a moment. “He get that dog after I left?”

Joel focused on you again and confirmed it once he noticed the dog again. “Yeah. I think your dad likes having something to take care of.”

You looked back into Joel’s eyes and bathed in them for a moment. He seemed more like himself, more certain of who he was. It made you a little sad to know how much time has passed, but maybe it was better this way.

“He was always like that. I think it started after… Well, you know.” You took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “How’s Sarah? She still my little rockstar?”

“She’s more of a pop star, now,” he said. “She still wears that bracelet you let her have, the… The silver one.”

Your chest swelled with joy and you couldn’t contain your excitement. “Really?! Aw, man, that’s so cool. I remember I would throw a fit if I didn’t have that damn thing on.” The dog barking grabbed your attention once again. He was just barking at the mailman but settled once the worker started petting him. “Sorry!” You shouted before returning your focus to Joel. “Well, Joel it was nice seeing you. We should… Catch up. I could use some… Life advice.”

“I’m free tomorrow night if that works?” He tried to contain his excitement.

You slowly backed away, giving him one more nod and smile. “Perfect. Just come over whenever like old times.”

Joel decided to be respectful enough to not ogle over your ass as you walked away. He turned away from the window wondering how the hell he was going to get over this… Crush?

Is that what this was? A crush?

He decided to not torture himself with his intrusive thoughts.

“Hey, kid,” Joel greeted. You rolled your eyes at the nickname but greeted him back. He entered the backyard slowly trying to get a feel for the mood. He sat next to you in the extra papasan chair and snatched your beer out of your hands. You glared at him, unable to hold it for long when he shot you that infamous smile. “Everything all right?”

He tasted your strawberry chapstick around the rim of the glass and let the taste linger on his tongue. His eyes fell to your lips as he thought about how the chapstick would taste coming straight from you. Raw and unfiltered.

You held your breath, wishing you had enough courage to ask your father these questions. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your father, you just wanted an opinion from an outside perspective. You were hoping Joel wasn’t as inclined to protect or embarrass you as much as your dad.

“There’s this guy I’ve been dating for a few months now… I…” You sigh frustratedly with the tension surrounding the question meanwhile Joel grew tense and jealous? He asked himself why that was the way he felt about you having a boyfriend.

You apprehensively said, “We had sex a few times before I left and it wasn’t…good.”

“Okay?” Joel asked as a way to tell you to keep going.

“How should I go about telling a guy that?”

He cleared his throat uncertain of how to answer your question. He didn’t want his newly discovered feelings to cloud his judgment as the chances of you two becoming a thing were slim to none. He wouldn’t want to sabotage you or your relationships. Especially when you trusted him enough to ask such a burdening question.

Joel accepted the awkwardness of the topic and put it aside. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed. “Well, have you tried suggesting things that he can do to make you—it feel good?” He asked.

“Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s me,” you admitted.

“Does he do the things you ask him to?”

“Kinda?” Your cheeks flushed and your eyebrows furrowed tightly.

He gave you a look that said come on now.

“He like… Does half of it?” You could just die of embarrassment right now.

“Wh—? How does he do half of it?”

You groaned obnoxiously and chugged some more beer. “I don’t know?! He does what I ask for like five minutes and then just does what he’s used to I guess.” He watched you poke your bottom lip out to pout as you stared into the glass bottle. “I really like him, Joel.”

“Does he like you?”

“Well, yeah,” you said as if it were obvious. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He inhaled sharply through his teeth and stole your beer bottle again. “All I will say is that a man that truly likes you would try harder, especially during sex, and especially if you’ve told him how he could make you feel good.”

“So… What do I do?”

“Do you think he likes you?” He asked again. “Think about it for a second. What does he do for you?”

“Well, he…” Your voice trailed off into silence as your mind went blank. Surely this guy did something for you to make you like him, right? But anything that did happen to come to mind was the bare minimum. You didn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction, so you said, “I think it could work.”

“Who’re trying to convince? Me or yourself?” He saw the frustration on your face and propped a finger below your chin to make you look at him. “If a guy really likes you, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have to ask more than once,” was all he said after he took a sip of your beer.

“What do you mean?”

Joel’s sigh almost sounded irritated. “I mean… A guy that truly likes you and deserves you won’t make you suffer through sex. A real man’ll take care a’you.”

“A real man, huh?” You bantered.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Like you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Do you like me?”

Why the fuck did I ask him that?! You thought as soon as the words left your mouth.

Joel didn’t couldn’t answer right away. His voice just stumbled over his tongue and out of his mouth.

“I think you’re a sweet girl,” he finally said, “and you’re smart enough to know who’s worthy of your time and attention. Doesn’t sound like it’s him.”

You couldn’t defeat the growing smirk on your face as he fought the urge to look over your body. He wasn’t so good at hiding it.

You turned your body in the chair slightly and dauntingly lifted your leg to touch your bare toes against his calf. You watched his breath get caught in his throat and your mouth fell open in awe at how easy it was to get him riled up.

He looked at the ground, not moving a single inch of his body. He was overwhelmed by your confidence.

The amount of attention Joel’s given you in the last ten minutes already seemed to surpass the attention your “boyfriend” (can you even call him that?) had given you.

Your foot trailed up Joel’s leg before you rested it upon his knee; Joel’s eyes screwed shut as if he were praying to not get caught like this, but your voice brought his gaze back to you.

“You didn’t answer my question, Joel,” you whispered seductively. Your foot left his leg and you got on your knees in the chair, then you leaned forward, hands around the rim of his own seat, and leaned in devilishly close to his face. “Do you like me?”

He swallowed hard, his fingertips turning white as they pressed into the bottle.

His lack of an answer caused an impatience to grow inside you. You leaned in even closer and strengthened your eye contact with him. Your fingers absentmindedly trailed over his knee to the midpoint of his clad thigh.

His spine shivered and his arms grew goosebumps. “Why don’t you have this attitude with your boyfriend?” He asked lowly in a poor attempt to further evade answering you.

You snickered and looked over his beer-covered lips, craving to taste them. “If I’m being honest he’s technically not my boyfriend… You’re tellin’ me things about men and how they should act. It’s making me feel like… He just can’t handle me.”

He smirked at you, fighting the way his body pleaded to touch yours. “If that’s the case then, sweetheart, I don’t think he’s the one for you.”

“Oh?” You got even closer, your nose touched his and you heard him choke on his breath. “Do you think you could handle me?”

He chuckled rashly and straightened his posture, now sensing you tense up. “I could,” he confidently confessed. “But this ain’t right, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you scoff, “you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

“If you keep actin’ like a spoiled brat you won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you retorted, a cocky essence in your eyes.

“That so?”

“Maybe you can show me how a real man should be taking care of me.”

Joel had to stop himself from speaking as it would have potentially led to consequences. His flustered cheeks and wide lustful eyes created a hunger you’d never felt before.

However, you wanted Joel to earn it. Push him to the point of begging for just a taste of you. You needed to know if he craved you. Something you longed for from other men that just could not deliver.

You hovered your agape lips over his so dangerously it tickled his nerves. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek then sat back in your original position.

Joel was both relieved and disappointed with the kiss. Relieved it didn’t end up with his head buried between your thighs, and at the same time disappointed that it didn’t.

For the next few days, you settled into your room as best as you could and got everything how you wanted it to be. Well, almost. You wanted a shelf to go over your closet so that you could display your most prized possessions.

When the idea sparked in your head you remembered that your dad said he was going to be gone for most of the day. You figured you could hold off for one more day. That was until you heard some power tools and heavy grunting from beyond your window.

Joel.

Joel had followed your lead as best as he could and you had to admit that the lack of physical contact was making it harder to resist him.

You felt a bit strange, however. After all, this is Joel. Sweet, caring, next-door neighbor Joel. You and your friends had a crush on him and his brother, Tommy, sure, but this wasn’t that. And you surely weren’t a child anymore. But still, you couldn’t help but think of how strange the dynamic is.

It wasn’t enough to stop you from taking your sweatpants off and changing out of your t-shirt into a stretchy tank top. You poked your head out of your window and shouted Joel’s name a few times until you successfully got his attention.

“Hey!” You said with a proud smile.

“Hey, kid!” He shouted back.

“Can you build a shelf for me? I wanted to get my room done today, but my old man’s gone!”

“Right now?” He tried to seem indifferent.

You just smiled harder and motioned for him to come over. “Please?!”

He huffed and looked at his half-done project, ultimately deciding to help you instead. The sooner he helps you the sooner he could create distance, he figured. Though deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

You patter downstairs to unlock the door for him. He could see from the corners of his eyes that you were half naked, only in white panties and your top.

“Couldn’t a’put pants on?” He asked grumpily as he walked past you, not giving you the satisfaction of staring. You shut and lock the door before guiding him upstairs.

“Yeah, but I figured since you were doing the job for free I could at least give you something to look at,” you flirted. He didn’t even bother trying to stop you.

“What d’ya need done exactly?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I want those shelves to hang over my closet right… Here. I have a power drill here already, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it.”

He was doing a decent job at keeping his eyes anywhere but on your body, but in his mind he had already taken your clothes off and fucked you against the wall.

“S’alright, I can get it for ya,” he said while giving you an earnest look.

“What?” You asked after a moment of silence.

“Nothing,” he answered with a shrug and a smirk. You lightly smack his arm and plop down on your bed.

You lay on your stomach and flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally smelling some of the perfume samples. You snuck glances at Joel’s broad back as he made sure everything could be lined up, smiling to yourself at how efficiently he worked.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Joel randomly asked after about ten minutes. You looked at him through your eyelashes as he peaked over his shoulder. 

You stifled your laugh and began looking at the magazine again before answering him. “He actually ended things with me two days ago. But like I said, he technically wasn’t my boyfriend. He never asked.”

“Oh… You doing okay? Seemed like you really liked him.”

“I like someone else more,” was all you said. Joel took a second, then just nodded even though you weren’t looking at him anymore.

“This someone have a name?” He asked after a few more moments of silence.

Joel’s internal conflict was teetering between giving in and giving up. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to you, but that’s what fueled his filthy thoughts even more.

“Yep, he sure does.”

Your tone was the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You felt hot and desperate, but you (almost) fooled him by sounding bored. He didn’t want to give into your childish game of beating around the bush, so he kept his mouth shut and began hammering a nail into the wall.

Suddenly you had an idea. An awfully sinister one.

You tossed the magazine on your nightstand and sat up in the bed, leaning into a few pillows and angling yourself so that Joel could get the perfect view if he dared to look.

Your hands traced uneven lines and patterns over your clad breasts and you gasped softly at your nipples perking up quickly. He couldn’t hear you over his hammering.

You rid yourself of your wet panties, kicking them to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs and began working big and slow circles over your sensitive clit. You used your free hand to pinch your nipple over your shirt, the combination of stimuli making you give a more audible moan.

Joel didn’t think much of it at first — he figured you were moving around on the bed to get more comfortable. So when the next moan came and he stopped his work to look at you he was taken aback, to say the least.

He said your name, but you shook your head in protest. “Is this okay?” You asked, innocence spreading across your face.

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe.

“Joel?” You snapped him out of his daze. “S’this okay?”

He nodded and watched your trembling hands dip down into your glistening slit, collecting your wetness and coating it over your clit. Your body was stiff with anticipation, watching him watch you.

He took in all of your beauty like the way your eyes fluttered halfway shut and how you bit your plump lip to quiet your mewls. One hand cupped your breast so gently and the other rubbing steady, taunting circles over your sensitive bud. He watched the way you pleased yourself and let this picture of you engrave itself into his memory.

One day, Joel thought, I’d be able to make her feel as good as she makes herself feel.

He ignored the hardening of his cock pressing against his jeans, not caring enough to touch himself if it meant he didn’t get to feel you. He found the situation quite sexy and the lack of physical contact made him feel good.

You were showing him that he didn’t need to touch you or talk to you. He didn’t need to do a damn thing. All he needed to do was stand there and let you look at him.

Your moans were quiet and soft, barely heard by him. You squeezed your nipple harshly and jolted at the shock of electricity it sent throughout your body, your eyes screwing shut and your legs curling up into an almost fetal position at the feeling.

He saw you swallow the lump in your throat as you looked into his eyes again, soon scanning over his body and imagining how he would feel on top of you. The imagination was more than enough to get you going.

You imagined he felt strong and heavy above you, trapping you with his burly arms and using his lean thighs to keep your legs open for him as he rolled his hips to meet yours.

You absentmindedly curled your middle and ring finger into your creamy pussy, chasing after the feeling of being stretched out by Joel. Your pussy effortlessly squelched as your discharge poured out of you like a waterfall, coating your plump ass cheeks in your juices.

You got a bit louder but remained mindful of the open windows just a few feet away. You watched the movement in his jeans from his cock that twitched, longing for just some fucking relief. But he didn’t move, he didn’t even adjust his pants. He wanted you to know that you were the one in charge and that he was willing to suffer just for you.

“Joel,” you breathed out in between helpless murmurs.

He almost caved at how sweetly you said his name like you were asking for help. You reached even further into your sex, pressing into your sweet spot carefully. You pretended it was him.

Allowing your eyes to shut and your mouth to open, your mind dove deeper into the fantasies of Joel. You imagined him fucking you slowly, steady enough to not make your bed squeak too loud. Your fingers followed your mind, bumping against your g-spot the same way you wanted him to: carefully, yet forceful.

Joel felt awkward just standing there watching you, but you looked so beautiful. Sprawled out just for him with your fingers dipping into your sopping cunt as if you were made just for him. He saw your shoulders twitch and a hiss escaped your lips.

A ripple of ecstasy shocked your nerves, your walls tighten around your fingers, and your clit tensed up with a tickling sensation.

Your face twisted from the overwhelming feeling that began to encapsulate you from your core to your mind. Your moans became shallow and louder. Your clit throbbing beneath your palm motivated your to work your fingers faster. You fucked yourself with more desire than you had before, still twisting your perky nipple between your other fingers.

You were a lot more gentle with yourself than Joel would have expected. You took your time, didn’t overwhelm yourself.

He knew he loved it when the ever-growing pressure inside of you burst into a million flames throughout your trembling body. He saw that the slower you were with yourself the more intense the orgasm was.

He accidentally groaned at the sight of you: clinging to your bedsheet with the very hand that toyed with your breast, eyes refusing to open from the immense pleasure soaring through your veins, curling up into a ball because your body couldn’t comprehend just how good you were feeling.

He noticed how your cum gushed around and below your fingers creating a wet spot on your blanket. He carefully watched as you opened your eyes, still slowly fingering yourself. You continued to feel your orgasm, exploring how much of it you could endure.

You moved your free hand to your clit and rubbed tiny and fast circles around it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you refused to moan anything but his name.

You shoved your fingers deep inside of you to press against your g-spot relentlessly. Your toes curled at the mix of pleasure.

You knew your orgasm was coming back more powerful than before already, and you braced yourself when your walls flexed against your fingers basically forcing them out; you chewed hard on your lip and laid your stiff fingers flat against your clit to rub from side to side at the arrival of your squirt. You squealed behind your swollen lip and let your squirt splash everywhere.

Joel palmed his rock-hard cock for some relief as he watched in awe at how you came for him. You looked so fucking delicious soaking yourself in your juices. His heart punched against his chest and his mind nearly blank, only filled with you.

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you eased up on your clit. You let out sweet hums of bliss and you opened your eyes again, carefully analyzing his body language.

He practically reeked of inferiority. He was your marionette, your toy, whatever you wanted him to be. He didn’t recognize you in the best way possible. You were an unwrapped present that he couldn’t wait to open and play with. Your confidence grew at his puppy eyes that were low and dark, filled with a need to serve you.

Your fingers collected some of the creamy nectar between your folds before you brought it to your mouth and darted your wet tongue out to taste it.

You never broke eye contact once, observing how his body shuddered at the filthy action. His breath was heavy, his chest heaved in anticipation. You stuck your fingers inside of your mouth moaning at the salty goodness coating every single taste bud.

It wasn’t until your fingers dropped back down to your side and you gave him a shit-eating grin that he finally looked away, sighing loudly.

He felt ashamed of himself.

He’d known you since you were a child.

How could he ever look you in the eye again?

How could he ever look your father in the eye again?

You slipped your panties on again while he wasn’t looking and just grabbed your magazine, flipping through the pages again like nothing ever happened though the wet spot on your bed clearly said otherwise.

When Joel saw you had returned to your previous activities he did the same. Drilling and hammering your shelves onto the wall like nothing fucking happened.

“Here you go sir, you have a lovely day,” you chirped at the customer as you handed him his food waiting until he left. You turned around to straighten up the counter behind you when the bell on the door jingled. “Hello, give me just one moment and I’ll be with you!”

You gave the counter a lazy wipe with the wet washcloth before tossing it into the sink nearby and turning around, being met with a smirking Joel.

“My, my, you working at a burger joint? Never thought I’d see the day,” he teased.

You made a face and told him to shut up. You tried not to notice the sheer layer of sweat that coated his partially exposed chest. “What can I get you, sir?”

His face contorted with arrogance and he placed a hand over his chest. “Sir? You callin’ me sir now? Oh, you are just too cute.”

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed out a stream of air, waiting for him to stop fucking with you.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, dropping the act. “Can I get a burger and some fries?”

“You don’t want a drink?” You asked before writing his order down quickly and sliding it through the kitchen window.

“Are you tryin’a make me tip you more?”

You shrugged. “Nah, it’s just that the cola here is really good.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as if he didn’t believe you.

“If you want a cola I’ll make it extra cold for you,” you whispered as if you were telling him a dirty secret.

“Mhm, okay. Fine, I’ll take your word for it. Gon’ and get it f’me then.”

“You can ask that a little nicer,” you scoffed. You walked off, breathing in a gust of smoke on your way to the soda machine. “F’here or to-go?!” You shouted.

“Mm, I was gonna get it to go, but I think I’ll stay and keep you company.”

You could just hear the smile in his voice.

“Awe, how thoughtful of you,” you bantered before rinsing out a clean cup and filling it with ice. The cook called out the order was ready and you thanked him before finishing up with Joel’s drink. You grabbed the tray and walked over to the end of the counter where the stools sat, setting the food in front of Joel with a weak smile.

He watched you closely as you leaned onto your elbows waiting for him to try his food.

“What r’ya doing workin’ in a restaurant? Didn’t you graduate for like… Fashion or some shit?” Joel asked, unable to keep his smile down at how pretty you looked in your uniform: a teal skirt and a mustard yellow shirt, but so, so tacky. You hated the fucking outfit, it was everything you would never wear, but Joel thought you made it look good.

“I did,” you confirmed, “but I wanted a humbling job before I truly entered the world of fashion.”

Joel’s thick and somewhat dirty fingers unraveled his greasy burger after he dumped the fries out chaotically. He took an unnecessarily big bite, not seeing how your eyes watched the trail of juice trickle down the corner of his mouth to his chin before he swept it set with his thumb.

“Humbling, hmm?” He questioned before swallowing his barely chewed bite. “You’re a wise girl, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” you smugly replied. You stole a fry off of his tray and smiled at his frowning face while eating it before washing it down with his fizzling soda. “Best drink that ‘fore it goes flat.”

You walked away momentarily to help a customer that just walked in; she only wanted a dollar milkshake so you told her not to worry about paying. You took a dollar and some change from your tip pocket and put it in the register before grabbing a styrofoam cup and packing her cup.

Joel noticed halfway through you making the shake that whenever you tapped the bottom of the cup against the counter your breast jiggled against your arm. He felt the lady nearby staring at him so he turned his head just enough to see the mix of disgust and concern on her face.

If only she knew how filthy you were for him just last week…

He didn’t care enough to stop though, he just went back to looking at how your clothes hugged your body.

You finished up her shake and popped a lid on it before grabbing a straw and walking back to give it to her.

Joel heard the lady ask if you were okay, and he promptly rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and tried his best to not laugh. You were confused by her question, simply nodding your head and saying, “Yeah?”

She looked at Joel once more, choosing not to say another word before leaving.

“Fuck was that about?” You asked, watching her walk away.

“She saw me starin’ at your tits,” he said between obnoxious bites. “If only she saw—“

Your eyes widened. “Do not finish that sentence.”

“Whatever you say, doll,” he teased before taking another bite.

You pretended to be grossed out by seeing the chewed-up food in his mouth as he spoke, swatting his hand gently. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me,” he quipped with a simper. He took a sip of his drink, humming at how refreshing it felt. “This is good,” he told you.

“Told ya.”

“What time are you out?”

You looked at the door when your manager came in, apologizing for taking longer than she expected.

“You’re fine, it’s a slow day,” you told her as she walked to her office. You looked at Joel and slammed your book and pen on the counter near the register. “I’m out now. Why?”

“Your dad asked me to pick you up.”

You felt a rush of worry. “Why? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, honey, everything’s fine. He forgot about pickin’ you up today and got drunk with his buddies and called me—well, he called Tommy. Said he wouldn’t be back home ‘til tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of his brother’s name. “Oh? Well, why isn’t Tommy here?” You strutted around the counter and stood next to Joel as he inhaled the last of his food.

“Think you know why,” he grunted.

Anxiety pang inside of your chest, but you convinced yourself it was excitement. You were hoping that he wanted to get you alone somewhere and fuck you into the next week.

But you didn’t want to seem desperate. You kept a straight face, waiting for your boss to come back out before getting your things and punching out.

You followed Joel to his Chevy and thanked him when he opened the door for you. He huffed when by the time he got inside the car himself you were already flipping through his book of CDs.

“I got a good one in already—“

“Is it The Writing’s On the Wall by Destiny’s Child?” You interrupted after you found said CD.

“No, b—“

“Then it’s not what I want to listen to.”

Joel endured your (arguably bad) singing for the ten-minute ride back to your house. He thought about a few things in that ten minutes:

-Sarah wasn’t home, so he didn’t need to worry about food (or getting caught), so this time was optimal to make a move on you.

-If he were to make a move on you, then you two wouldn’t get caught.

-If he were to make a move on you, how exactly would he do it?

Once he arrived in his driveway, you both stepped out of the car and he walked over to your side.

“You not working tonight?” You asked.

“No, we finished early.”

You looked at him with lush eyes and bit the inside of your mouth, a flirty smile coaxing your lips. He looked hopeful for something, anything.

“I was just gonna watch TV all night,” you started, “and maybe make some dinner. I know you just ate, but you and Sarah are welcome to come over.”

“Sarah’s at a friend’s tonight, doing some studying,” he answered. His voice trailed off as if he weren’t finished speaking his thought aloud, but you picked up where he reluctantly left off.

“Do you want to come over, then? Just you?”

He looked around the quiet neighborhood as if he had to think about what he wanted. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

You lead him to your house, kicking your shoes off at the door and he followed. He felt unsure of his decision. He wondered if this night would play out platonically and just be filled with conversation and dinner, or if this was truly the beginning of a secret he’d have to keep forever.

“Spaghetti okay?” You asked him once you both entered the kitchen, decorated with oranges and reds, and yellows, reminiscent of your late mother. You tossed your half apron on the island before making your way to the refrigerator.

You heard his feet patter on the linoleum quickly but before you could turn around on your own Joel did it, pinning your back against the refrigerator and knocking down some of the bottles inside of it.

You gasped when his fingers peacock over the outsides of your thighs, gripping at the hem as a means to pace himself.

His eyes were bright yet lustful as his proximity alone sucked the air out of your lungs. Your chests heaving against each other’s created the only other physical contact you had with him.

He then dropped to his knees before you got the chance to speak; his calloused hands rose beneath your skirt, hiking it up enough for him to pull your wet panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them for him and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder before meeting his mouth to your clit tongue first.

You moaned at how he just dove into it, not bothering with kissing or easing you into it. Your digits laced through his messy curls while his tongue coated itself in your juices.

His tongue did crazy laps around your clit and he smacked a couple of firm kisses in between his licks. You tried to watch his work but your stupid fucking skirt was in the way. You settled, however when his eyes opened, the only visible part of him from your view.

You tasted so good to him, he tasted your day of work mixed in with your salty precum and he couldn’t get enough of it. He moaned when you tugged at his hair, burying his face as deep as he could and closing his eyes.

You let out a stream of obscenities while using your calf to push into his back, afraid that if you didn’t hold on tight enough he’d vanish.

He wrote out his full name over your clit like he was casting a spell that anything you or someone else touched you there you would only think about him.

You were amazed at how good he was eating you out — you didn’t think he’d be bad. You just didn’t know it could feel this good. It was like you felt him touching and kissing and licking all over your body, swimming in an endless pool of dissolution.

His touch was decadent through remembering how careful you were with yourself. He wanted to cater to you and to make you feel as good as you made yourself. And on top of that, he just really wanted to eat your pussy.

Savor it.

Taste it.

Drink you until you fucking ran dry and begged him to stop.

Nothing could have torn his lips away from your pussy. Hell, someone could have walked in and he’d still keep going.

“Joel,” you gasped, throwing your head back and grinding on his face.

He loudly moaned, tightening his grip around your thighs and wagging his head furiously from side to side to provide more stimulation.

Your hips bucked into his face roughly and you screeched, pulling even tighter on his hair.

“Joel, oh—fu-fuck!”

He smirked and pulled at the skirt to unveil his eyes again. His dick angered in his jeans, but he ignored it. He’d much rather focus on the way you writhed from his touch. Your panting growing heavier fueled his already intense movements. He began to suck while still shaking his head earning another screech from you.

You never felt out of control with how loud you were before. Every motion sent a million shockwaves throughout your body. You always did a good job at keeping quiet enough so that the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but fucking hell was Joel the one to break that evergreen streak.

You felt his hot breath collide with the fluids coating your sex and his nails leave indents on your flesh.

His tongue darted out to collect a stream of your cum, but his nose butted against your clit as he continued shaking his head making your hips buck once more. Then he realized… He got to stimulate your sensitive bud and lick between your folds.

He loved it.

Your moans became more distressed and uneven; he felt you chasing that high. He wanted you to cum so fucking badly. To let all of your pent-up cum pour over him.

You held the back of his head gently and he angled it just right enough for you to ride his face.

“Use my fucking face,” he moaned loud enough between your legs for you to hear. “Use my fucking face to cum.”

Your body gave in finally at his hoarse voice; your hops sped up, still using his nose and lips to overstimulate yourself. The orgasm was forceful, your moans strident.

Joel felt a pool of your cum leak out and drip down his chin onto his neck. He watched you crumble and curl into him and he was attentive enough to hold you steady while your balance dissipated.

Your head was dizzy and your vision blurred. You slowly halted your movements and just stood there being held by him while he placed light, but loving kisses along your dripping cunt.

He finally pulled his face out from underneath your skirt and carefully put your leg down before standing. He tucked some loose hairs back or behind your ears, then caressed your cheek and gave you a peck.

You wiped some of your cum off of his wet chin with your thumb and held it up to his mouth which he gladly sucked on. He grinned at you afterward and fixed your skirt for you.

The silence was soothing because frankly, neither of you knew what to say. It left you speechless, but that could just be the aftereffect of your climax.

The night was beginning to close in sooner than either of you wanted it to. You two just talked, truly catching up on the past four years. He was a lot funnier than you remembered, your cheeks were aching from how much he was making you laugh.

"You are a real gentleman, Joel Miller. What can I say? Dinner and an orgasm?!"

He lifted you up from your spot on the couch and pulled you into his lap so that you were straddling him. "I don't have to be," he murmured against your lips. His fingers flexed into your feverish skin, holding you upright and close by. He chased you with his lips until you finally let him kiss you. "Be honest with me... Did you really think I was handsome in high school?"

Your face grew warm and you hid behind your hands in embarrassment. "Oh, my God."

"Why are you actin' all shy now?"

"Because you weren’t supposed to know about that."

"Know about what exactly?"

You crossed your arms, deciding to let him win this time. "You want details?"

He smirked and leaned back to get more comfortable.

"Well... I used to lie and tell my friends that we fucked," you admitted.

"Really?" Despite his surprise the smirk never left his face. If anything it grew wider.

You sheepishly nodded. "I used to tell them how good you were. Everything you would do to me."

"What would I do to you?" His cock was already throbbing against his jeans, and just like every other time, he ignored it.

"You would fuck me up against the wall," you explained. "Sometimes, you would bend me over the edge of the bed and spank me for being naughty. Or just 'cause you felt like it. I'd even tell them about how you played with my ass so gently because you didn't want to hurt me."

Every word went straight to his dick, making it jerk and prod your thigh.

"Maybe I do need to bend you over and spank you for all that lyin' you were doin'. Your friends probably think I'm some creep now," he said; his tone wasn’t scolding or cold. He sounded thirsty for more of you. Like his throat had already run dry despite how much of you he drank earlier.

"I'd tell them the truth, but if I were to do that now then I'd be lying again," you whispered against his lips.

"We certainly cannot have you spreadin' no more dirty lies, now. Can we?"

-

Read Part 2 here.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ tommy gets jealous | oneshot

♡ fandom; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003/2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; mentions of kidnapping and violence, don’t date people who want to slash you irl not a good foundation for a relationship

♡notes; I put on my big boy panties and wrote something other than a bulleted list!!

I just love a good “i trust you but i sure as fuck don’t trust anybody else” type jealously trope. Also some Tommy doing ASL!! We love a (selectively?) mute king.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

You were an oblivious person. Most of the time, anyways. You’d been totally shocked when Luda Mae didn’t let you leave the night you arrived at the Hewitt house, totally shocked when Charlie told you Thomas was obsessed with you, and more surprised still that Charlie had been right.

You weren’t stupid— you put two and two together that these folks were cannibals as soon as you saw the basement. You nearly talked Monty into letting you go, and you slipped your restraints a couple times before you were settled in. You’d done well in school and still could read a book in one sitting.

Maybe… socially inept was a better word, harsh as it sounded. It was only people that you had a such a hard time with. You trusted them, but you could almost never wrap your head around what they were thinking.

Like the customers that stayed too long . It happened a lot. Bikers and tourists and all sorts of folks would stop in when you were working in the convenience store, and usually more than once a day a man would stay leaned on the counter, chatting away until his buddies were about to leave him. Sometimes they’d be alone, and Luda would give you a break early and they’d go off looking all huffy.

It very rarely occurred to you that the men were trying to flirt. You didn’t think of yourself as someone that happened to- and treated all customers the same. Why would they think you wanted to bang em when all you did was smile? Being nice was part of your job.

Luda Mae payed no mind to the men or your conversations. If there’d been any cause for concern, she’d be able to quash it very easily. But she found it endearing, especially your confusion and apathy when they did get balls enough to be blunt . In her mind you were so devoted to Thomas that other men were just nuisances.

That’s why no one had mentioned it to Thomas. He rarely came up to help now that you were there to help Luda Mae, but today there was extra stock, and her joints had been aching from the weather. You were on register, Luda Mae relaxed in a rocker on the porch, and Tommy stalked the aisles and put out trinkets and canned food and all the other junk you sold. You were trying not to go distract him and stood leaned over the counter, doodling on some scrap paper between customers.

“Well hello darlin,” A man drawled, hands on his belt buckle. He was trying too hard to be a real Texan, but he wasn’t from up North like you. “You got any cigarettes back there?”

“Sure do! Let’s see… got Camels, Lucky Strike- I really like these ones, the Salems, they’re menthol-“

“You look too sweet to smoke. I’ll take the Camels,”

“Well, only do it on special occasions,” you shrugged, not paying much attention as Thomas stalked towards the front “Anything else?”

“Well. That depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re free or not tonight.”

You blinked, then furrowed your brow “You tryna ask me out?”

“Well I- oho shit!” The man laughed uncomfortably as he noticed Thomas right behind him “You scared me there big guy-“

He huffed and slunk behind the counter as the man nervously tried to get back on topic “Anyways… ahem…so about that date-?”

You huffed and out a hand on your hip “Well, depends?”

He perked up a bit “On what?”

“If you can beat my boyfriend in a fight.” On cue Thomas wrapped his arms around you from behind, growling as he hooked his chin on your head.

The man quickly turned tail and mumbled something about being out of practice, forgetting the cigarettes completely. You could feel Tommy relax and turned to let him pick you up and set you on the counter. Even then you weren’t eye to eye with the giant of a man…but it was closer, and you liked feeling tiny anyway.

“…hi baby.” You cooed and loosely wrapped your arms around his neck. He huffed and nuzzled you, as he often did as a form of reassurance. You giggled and pecked his mask “Annoying, right?”

He nodded and scowled, keeping his grip tight on your hips

“…what’s wrong?”

He hesitated but pulled back to sign ‘Mine. All mine. Right?’

You giggled again “Of course! All yours- always.”

He smiled softly- the sort of expression only you could coax out of him ‘Always’

[tommykinard6]

Should I be eating and resting? Yes. Am I? No, so come join me for a dissertation on Tommy Kinard being lonely.

Edit to add a note since I saw a reblog about it: Tommy has no canonical age right now and Lou is 39, 40 later this year, so that is my basis for saying he’s 39.

Now when I say lonely, I don’t mean that he has no one whatsoever. I can picture him going for drinks with his team or having some Muay Thai buddies that he could call up if he really was inclined. Maybe an old army buddy or two.

But there’s something about Tommy that’s just achingly lonely, both when he was at the 118 and now at Harbor.

Tommy had a broken home, or some other kind of unstable childhood. Maybe his parents split, maybe he was mistreated, maybe he was in the system or was passed around family members. Maybe he was isolated as a child because he was a little overweight (I think Lou said something along those lines) and was bullied. I think Tommy didn’t really have any friends until high school, when puberty hit and maybe he started working out and probably joined the football team. I don’t know if anyone remembers what teenage boys are like, but I can imagine they were the same as they are today back in the 90s/early 00’s. Because around this time, Tommy might’ve started to realize that something was very different about him.

Now this isn’t a meta about how I think Tommy dealt with his sexuality (maybe I’ll do one of those later) but I think he never would’ve risked his football friends knowing even if he himself could acknowledge it, which I doubt. So he messed around, got in trouble with these guys, hung out with the bros, and pretended to be interested in girl talk.

Of course, eventually, his buddies all got girlfriends and he was always the odd one out again.

He didn’t do college. The army was his next step. And I feel like this might have been the first time in his life he wasn’t lonely. He’d learned to blend in by this point and he worked with some great people. But as he started making real friends for the first time, he also started losing them as the war tore them away.

Tommy left the army and joined the fire department. There was an aching hole where the camaraderie of the army had filled previously and with no education beyond a high school diploma, Tommy thought the fire department would replicate that. Not the police though. He’d had enough of guns.

(And ohhhh now so many ideas on his thoughts during the sniper)

But he ended up at the 118 and quickly realized that his team had maybe more of a DADT stance than the army. He realized that he had to put on an elaborate act to fool his fellow firefighters, who had more time on their hands and more prejudice they were willing to wield to pick apart his life. Tommy, who maybe had only just started to acknowledge he felt differently about guys with less panic than before, had no choice but to backslide. He acted and acted and crafted a person he wasn’t until the day that maybe he was. Sal was his closest buddy at the 118 and Tommy had no doubt that Sal would be one of the first to make his life hell. Gerrard seemed to look at Tommy as some sort of mentee. Boxed in by two notorious bigots, Tommy had never felt more claustrophobically alone.

Chim was the first one to reach out a hand of friendship, or at least the first one that didn’t come with caution tape, but he was also an “other” and Tommy, who was confused and afraid and had just had his captain call his bluff on his fake girlfriend, lashed out. Then he allowed Chim in and Chim wasn’t interested in being besties but he was a great drinking buddy and movie buddy and Tommy felt safest around him.

Then Hen came and Tommy watched her get the same treatment he was afraid of. Not that he had to worry about the racism, and he was aware of the privilege, but Hen didn’t exactly hide herself and he watched them bully his lesbian coworker. He let himself get pulled into it all and hated himself for it, but was too cowardly to break away from it. He wasn’t sure why Hen had forgiven him, but she became the only other person on shift he felt even a little safe around other than Howie. But then Chimney and Hen became best friends and Tommy fell to the wayside. They still included him, sure, but they were always a pair and there was something there that Tommy didn’t know but longed for. A closeness he’d never felt.

A best friend. A juvenile idea to him, but one he’d never truly had.

Then Gerrard was gone and Sal got transferred and the 118 moved forward under Captain Nash, but Tommy felt left behind, even in what was the most united A shift team yet. Because he was over 30 and was starting to be unable to ignore everything that he’d had to hide under Gerrard, as he no longer had a distraction from it.

He’d been a pilot in the army, so he transferred to Harbor. And Harbor was great. He wasn’t best buds with anyone (he was starting to think that was never in the cards for him) but his team didn’t carry the same baggage that the 118 had.

So Tommy started to come to terms with himself. He started to date for the first time and came out to his team. And he had several boyfriends, but most couldn’t handle the job or his baggage or the desperate need he had to be wanted. His most long term partner cheated and the one he fell hardest for couldn’t deal when Tommy was injured on the job. Even within his own relationships, he felt like he was destined to stand alone.

Tommy was 39 years old and alone, as always, when Chimney walked back into his life, dragging an adorable and also extremely hot blonde and a stoic brunette that radiated ex military in a way only ex military could know. And then Hen was there and they were trying to rescue their captain and his wife and they clearly loved each other fiercely and like family.

And as Tommy listened, flying through the remnants of a cat 5 hurricane, he thought to himself that he should’ve never left. Simply just never found himself if only that meant being part of the family the 118 was now. However, he knew deep down that he still would’ve been alone and on the outside.

And they rescued the survivors and Tommy thought that was it but then Eddie wanted to hang out. And they liked the same things and had similar experiences and Tommy couldn’t help the hope. Because the loneliness had grown stifling and now he could breathe a little. And then Evan, the cute blonde, wanted a tour of the hanger and he thought that maybe he was being hit on.

And then at the end of it all, Tommy was left realizing that he’d wedged himself between two best friends and that was what happened when he allowed himself to hope. So he went to Evan to apologize. He would get Evan and Eddie to talk to each other and then would fade into the background.

But then Evan was sweet and apologetic and told him that he was part of the 118 family simply by helping them. Tommy couldn’t help it. Here he was, at 39, with a little boy still waiting inside of him to be soothed. And Evan was hot and sweet and Tommy couldn’t help himself.

And he really liked Evan. Evan was adorable. But their first date didn’t go as planned and Tommy knew he was already whipped. So he removed himself before someone could get hurt. Evan deserved better and so did he, even if the loneliness was stifling again.

But then Evan texted him and looked at him with sparkling blue eyes over too sweet coffee and wanted him. Him. He wanted Tommy and to have something with Tommy and he wanted him to come to his sister’s wedding with him.

And Tommy looked at him and saw someone who could finally fill the ache he’d felt his whole life. He saw a man who he knew he wanted to take a chance with. All he had to do was jump.

And he did.

And it wasn’t solved, not immediately and never fully. Too many wounds were left gaping for too long to ever heal. But for the first time in his life, at 39, with the 118 surrounding him and Buck as the sunshine at his side, Tommy finally felt at peace.

[pizzaqueen]

Another first kiss for day six of @steddie-week for the prompts ‘true’ and ‘misunderstandings’

726 words of these ridiculous boys being ridiculous / rated T

Eddie has been staring at Steve, eyes narrowed, head tilted, for at least five minutes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve asks. The way Eddie looks at him sometimes sits weirdly. Makes Steve wonder if Eddie can tell. Can see Steve’s crush—more than crush—on him.

“Your face.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

“It’s just so pretty.” Eddie grins and leans in to pinch Steve’s cheeks.

Steve shoulders him away—“Fuck off”—and rubs his face.

There’s a sharp cackle and then Eddie flops back onto the bed. He folds his hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. There’s silence for a little while until Eddie says, softly, “You’re more than pretty, you know.”

“What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Steve’s pulse stutters and his stomach swoops. “Eddie, don’t—” He can’t take Eddie joking about this.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” Eddie looks at Steve and Steve can’t read his face, but, oh shit, it doesn’t look like he’s joking.

“I don’t know,” Steve says, amazed he can choke any words out around his heart in his throat, “why’d you say it?”

“Because I meant it.” Four simple words and they totally shatter Steve’s world. What is happening? Eddie shrugs and adds, “But you already knew that.”

“I—” Steve blinks. “What?”

Eddie pushes himself up, so he’s sitting cross-legged, catty-corner from Steve. “You know, this is what we do. I pine and you pretend not to notice.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“No, you definitely know,” Eddie says, but he’s sounding less certain by the second.

“I don’t fucking know.” Steve’s heart beats hard and he’s pretty sure his palms are sweating. “Are you saying you…”

Eddie gives a small nod.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I thought you knew.” Eddie fists a hand in his hair. “Oh, fuck.”

“How would I know? You’re no different with me than anyone else, except when you say shit like you did earlier. But then you do something like pinch my face and it always sounds like you’re joking.”

“I’m not. I just—”

“And, I mean, I don’t know any other guys who like guys, so maybe they flirt differently, and I’m realizing as I say that it makes no sense, does it?”

“Maybe, but, hey, now you know a guy who likes guys, right?” Eddie waves his hands. A beat and then: “Wait, other guys? Other to who?”

“To me. I think.” Steve swallows. “I mean, I don’t really know.” He runs a hand over his face. “Carol dared me and Tommy H to make out once and it was just wet and awkward but that was Tommy, and you’re not Tommy and I think it would be better with you and…” He shrugs.

“Wait. You’re saying you…”

Steve nods.

Eddie’s brows raise. He points to himself. “Me?”

“Okay, one of us has to say a full sentence at some point but, yeah, you.”

“Oh.” A smile slowly forms, a different kind of smile that Steve doesn’t think he’s seen from Eddie before—it’s small and true and breathtaking.

And then Steve is flat on his back with the full weight of Eddie on top of him. Eddie’s hair is a curtain around their faces, strands tickling Steve’s nose; Steve reaches up, pushing Eddie’s hair aside as best as he can. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to kiss,” Eddie says, “and it’s going to be so much better than when you kissed Hagan,” and then he kisses Steve.

Any doubt that Steve wanted this melts away the moment Eddie’s lips touch his—of course he wants this. And it is so much better, Eddie was right, and Steve loses himself in it. He cups the back of Eddie’s neck, fists his other hand at Eddie’s waist, relishing the feeling of Eddie’s thighs either side of his and the slide of their tongues and just Eddie.

When they part, Eddie’s lips and eyes are shining and he says, “You really are beautiful,” breathless and awed.

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that because he’s not sure anyone’s called him beautiful before so he just says, “So are you,” and kisses Eddie again. There’s nothing else to talk about, anyway, not now.

Steve knows he wants this and he knows Eddie wants this and that’s enough for now. The other words can wait; he’s got a ridiculous, beautiful boy to kiss.

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART II

ALRIGHT, SECOND PART IS OUT. NOT WAITING. hope u like :)

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader || enemies to lovers trope.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

This isn't your first time meeting Steve Harrington.

You know him. And he knows you. Well, maybe. Who knows. You both run in completely different circles in high school.

While there's some very obvious tension amongst the love triangle (Nancy-Steve-Jonathan) you take a second to look over at the group of kids behind King Steve. There's a curly-haired kid wearing a cap, another kid sporting a bandana, and a redheaded girl. They give you sort of awkward waves, which you return with a tight-lipped grin.

"Sorry," Jonathan's suddenly saying. "Uh, you guys, this is umm -"

"Bauman," you interject. "Just...call me Bauman."

Steve is now looking at you, realizing. Recognizing. "Hey," he says. "Wait, aren't you in Click's class?"

You press your lips into a thin line, trying not to be totally off-put by him. And in truth, you weren't really. Steve had seemed less... douchey, since he started dating Nancy. You were grateful for that. No matter how doomed their relationship was, it seemed to help him get rid of his trash friends. God, Tommy H. and Carol and that Nicole girl were just toxic.

"Yeah," you said, reaching out a hand. "Nice to officially meet you."

Steve shook your hand, a bit sheepish. And still distracted with the fact that his girlfriend had shown up with Byers. Why was she with Byers? You felt yourself internally cringing, seeing how oblivious yet aware he was. It actually made you feel bad.

"I'm Dustin!"

You suddenly looked in the direction of a toothy-grinned kid smiling at you, and you couldn't help but grin back. "Hey, Dustin."

Lucas and Max introduced themselves, too. But then, you all heard sound coming from off in the distance. The lab.

So yeah, things took a pretty sharp turn from there. It's all kind of a blur, if you're being honest. Everyone began talking over each other, eventually gathering info as to exactly who you are and why you were here (at least the general just of it). They learned about Murray Bauman, and Steve's face just became more perplexed, the more that Nancy and Jonathan revealed what they had learned...together.

...yikes.

But the kids were also asking you a million questions, very curious about you. Max found you funny, finding you to have more cool-girl energy than Nancy, who just seemed too polished for her to know how to communicate with her.

Eventually, Nancy noticed the power back on at the lab and you all took off in that direction. Steve was arguing a lot with the kid named Dustin. Very brotherly. Low-key motherly. The toll gate wouldn't open, then suddenly it did open, and then next thing you know a car is racing towards you from the lab and it's got Jim Hopper at the steering wheel? He's throwing the door open, demanding all of you to get in.

As you all drive, you end up near the front of the car, squished between Steve and Dustin.

"Bauman."

You look over at Jim, surprised. But he's looking at you in the rearview with all-knowing eyes. "You're Murray's niece."

You nod. "Yeah. Jim Hopper, right?"

Jim reaches back to pat your knee, eyes on the road and still shaken up from whatever the hell they just escaped. "M'sorry, kid. Your uncle's been getting shit from me. I know he sent you. M'really sorry. I'll make it right with him after all this, alright? Promise."

You just nod, knowing there's really no time for any of that right now. Since you got in the car, you haven't even had time to notice how there is a woman (clearly Joyce Byers) in pure distress, along with another kid in tow and the limp body of another child that she's holding. Jonathan is reaching for him, riddled with worry. Is that Will?

Once you all make it back to the Byers residence, it's tense. Really fucking tense. Jonathan is knelt in front of the couch, voicing his regrets out loud as he stares at his brother's limp form. Nancy stands behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. You're on the opposite side of the room, leaned against the wall.

Which is why you notice that behind Hopper, who's yelling into the wall phone, Steve. He looks...devastated. Hurt. Heartbroken.

...fuck, he looks heartbroken.

He walks past you, pinching his nose and sniffing once. He looks like he's really fighting off some emotion, escaping to another room. It makes you think about everything that went down at your uncle's bunker, and how maybe it was funny there...but it isn't here. Not now, seeing that this guy actually has some intense feeling for Nancy Wheeler. Intense love for her. Real love.

...but Nancy doesn't feel that same intense love for him.

...oh god, that's messy.

But all hell is breaking loose before you can linger on that for much longer. Suddenly, you're all devising a plan. It has something to do with dungeons and dragons, and Will being possessed, and getting him in a room that whatever monster is inside of him won't recognize. The you're all deciphering Morse Code, and it's a whirlwind from there.

And then you're all holding weapons, bracing fore an attack...when some young girl walks in. Who you come to learn is the infamous Eleven. Her hair grew back, and she looks ready to join a punk band.

Pretty bitchin' look, you gotta admit.

The kids introduce her to you, and she gives you a shy smile. Then you're all splitting up into groups, and you catch a brief exchange between Nancy and Steve. He's saying something to her about going with Jonathan, and it makes you tense for Nancy. You can't even imagine how she must feel, knowing that he sees it.

And honestly, the way that Steve talks is...so not King Steve. It's uncharacteristically mature. Secure, and assuring. Not that of the teen heartthrob and bad boy you've been going to school with. And when Nancy does go off with Jonathan, you see Harrington's heart shatter into a million pieces with just the look in his eyes.

You feel bad. You suddenly feel really bad.

But also, he had to have seen this coming. Right? Jonathan Byers was a good, decent guy, who'd been there for Nancy all throughout the hell of last year. Steve had come around, finally. But by then, the trauma bond between Byers and Wheeler was irreversible. There's no changing that.

But damn, unrequited love sucks.

You knew was rejection felt like, and you wouldn't wish it on anyone. Not even your worst enemy.

Out of guilt, you make some conversation with Steve. Given it's just the two of you with the kids left at the house, needing to wait things out, you both easily make conversation. It's a bit awkward at first, but oddly it finds flow pretty easily. Steve's still got his charm, although it's a little more grounded than before. It isn't forced, or laced with popular-kid attitude. That's refreshing.

As you both end up listening to the kids like the only two parental figures around, then end up having to fight off that psycho new kid at school named Billy Hargrove (who's actually Max's stepbrother?!) and patch up Steve's very beaten and battered face which somehow still looks pretty, annnnd wind up in a tunnel full of creatures (demo dogs? is that what Dustin called them?), then somehow survive all of that shit... you and Steve become pretty bonded, pretty quickly.

And when the worst of it is seemingly over, you end up helping Eleven get ready for the Snowball -- dropping her off with Hopper. He's grateful for your help, and after making amends with your uncle you two have gotten to know each other well, too. He likes you, appreciating your mature sense of self.

Joyce adores you already, being the kind-natured and loving mama-bear that she is.

And El? Well, she loves you. You're like a cool older sister figure of sorts.

You and Steve run into each other when dropping off the kiddos at the Snowball, making conversation about how crazy everything was. You talk about other things, too. Just mundane things, bouncing off each other well. But when Steve notices Nancy inside, he gets that sad puppy-dog look in his eyes again. Then, Jonathan's coming out of the dance with a camera. He clearly was the designated photographer for the night.

And he clearly has captured Nancy Wheeler's heart.

One night, after Jonathan and Nancy have started going steady and you're all on summer break, you're all over at the Henderson's house watching the kids. The adults are there, too, since Mrs. Henderson is out working overnight. Murray is pouring up drinks for the adults and teens, much to Joyce's disapproval. But he just goes about his business, clinking glasses. Hopper honestly looks like he could really use a fucking drink. Or 5.

You, Steve, Nancy and Jonathan all toast, happily. Chatting. Laughing. Making light of things.

...but that ends up being pretty short-lived.

Before you know it, you're in the kitchen helping clean up while Joyce gets the kids in bed and Hopper is on the couch slurring with your uncle. Steve had offered to help you, but Dustin insisted that he come see something in his room before they all went to bed. Nancy has left with Mike and Max, while Lucas is staying the night.

Welp. Jonathan walks in, drunk, telling you thank you.

It's sloppy, and it would be funny except for the fact that he is talking so fucking loud. He's just thanking you, and then Murray, over and over -- "...for meddling with'm love life because now, I'm dating th'most beautifurrrl girl in Hawkins. N'if'it weren't for y'two...I'd still'b pining o'r h-her."

...annnnd then he’s blabbering on about how you let him and Nancy take the bed. “Well’lmost… ha, w-we ended urp…takin’th…couch. Whischhh…you tol’us you’w’d…toHaLLy tAkE’stead.” Then he’s snickering, drunkenly. “Cuz’you toooootally wanted us to doooo itttt. Schhhhhhayin that — m’not the safe one. That’m — I’m the one’th Nannnncy l-loves. Not…S-Steve…”

You just chuckle nervously, giving him a pat on the shoulder. And you just keep washing the dishes when he gives you a tight hug from behind, stumbling a bit and making you almost drop and break one of Mrs. Henderson's very cute plates.

Right on cue, Steve rounds the corner, having heard it.

All of it.

And now that Steve has gotten wind of the fact you played a huge role — along with Murray — on why Nancy left him, he is totally pissed.

In fact, he’s livid. 

"Steve," you try, but he just holds up a hand, staring daggers at you.

"Save it, Bauman," he grits. "Save. It."

It causes him to have the utmost disdain towards you, border lining hate. It just festers over time, getting worse.

Something about that makes your stomach flip inside out with a horrible, upset feeling. Your guts feel knotted up, and if the reality of things weren't so bleak, you would laugh at the fact that losing Steve Harrington's friendship (let alone trust) would upset you one day, let alone even happen. You feel bad. You really do. But God, as time goes on... his entire attitude about it is insufferable. He isn't letting up any time soon. Not when you both meet up with the kids (because regardless of the strain between you two, you're both the parents now). It feels like two divorced parents, meeting up to share custody of the chitlins.

The only relationship to which Steve is committed, is the one that he shares with Miss Hatred. And you're her bitch.

...guess there's still some King Steve in him after all.

You knew King Steve. He was an ass. So you know what? Suck it, Harrington. Karma’s a bitch.

As time passes, you begin firing back at him - tired of trying to explain yourself, apologize or play nice. Steve wants to fucking play? Alright then. Game on, Harrington.

There's a whole upside down universe threatening to take over still? All good. Let's still brawl, Harrington.

The kids keep bringing you both around each other, and you're also working at a place inside of the same damn mall as Steve is for the summer? AWESOME.

LET'S GET READY TO FUCKIN RUMBLE.

So yeah, you’re totally involved in the whole mall ordeal with the Russians, bonding you to Steve and Robin, along with Dustin and Erica.

But despite that, Steve still resents you. So there is still rivalry between the two of you.  Hot and bothered. 

That said, despite his pure disdain towards you...it doesn't change the fact that you actually do begin to see him for the much better human that he is becoming. King Steve has fallen. No doubt. You see that. The way that he loves and cares the kids, especially Dustin. And the way that Steve reacts whenever Robin comes out to you both? He's an angel. Hell, he even fought the soldiers off of you whenever they decided to make you their torture-chamber play-thing. He definitely got mad at them for that one, but he also got mad at you for not going with Dustin and Erica before all of that went down. You both nearly strangled each other when attempting to hold the door shut, yelling at each other to run. Robin had finally joined you both, but still - neither of you budged.

Steve was a good guy. A nice guy, even. Just not to you, unless the moment called for him to be. Which was fine.

…but he’s still annoying. And apparently, he can hold a fucking grudge like no other. He’s a world class champ at that, come to find out. Gold star.

You're onboarded to help Hopper, Murray and Joyce with shutting the gate. It's a no-brainer. Steve looks a little miffed, seeing how the adults trust you like one of them rather than him. Even the way that Jonathan is so cool around you, and Nancy seems shy around you, it just...irks him.

When you manage to help Joyce close the gate, you witness the death of Hopper. And it kills you, along with your uncle. You ache for Joyce, unable to fathom how you'll have to bring it up to El.

But hey, you all manage to destroy the Mind Flayer. And when Billy is killed in the process, you tend to Max like a true older sister. She and Eleven have both come to look up to you as such, and Steve won't deny the fact that you're a saint with these kids. A real fucking saint. And if he's being honest...he's relieved to have a co-parenting partner.

But that is the extent of his gratitude towards you, which is strictly circumstantial. You make things convenient sometimes.

Hopper dying hits all of you hard. And you do everything that you can to help your uncle not drink himself to death. It's the only reason that you don't regularly visit the Wheelers in California. Your uncle is a wreck. Hopper was the only man who truly felt like a friend to your very lonely (by choice) Uncle Murray.

Steve does single you out to ask how you're doing, knowing that witnessing Hopper's death was tragic. But you just tell him that the real concern is your uncle and Joyce, insisting that you will get by. Steve seems hesitant at first, knowing that you're not fine. He might hate you, but he still cares about a party member who got put through hell.

"I'm alive, Steve. So I need to carry on. For everyone's sakes. I'll be alright."

As time goes on...

You and Steve give Robin very conflicting love advice, when it comes to her crush on Vikki.

"VIKKI LIKES BOOBIES."

"Christ, Steve," you're groaning in the backseat. "Stop being such a damn teenage boy."

"I'm almost 20, Bauman," he scowls at you in the rearview mirror.

You make a face, exaggerating feigned apology. "'Scuuuuuse me."

Man, he could not hate you more. Steve is sure of that. You are the worst. Why are you here. You are just the worst. Every time he looks at you, all he sees is Murray Bauman but as a much hotter 19-year-old girl with way more better comebacks and select timing.

AND NO, THAT IS NOT A COMPLIMENT.

!!!!!!!!

Next thing you know, Chrissy Cunningham has been found dead in a trailer that belongs to Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. Who, according to Dustin, is not only still in high school — he’s also friends with them? Yikes. But Dustin swears that he’s not a murderer.

You choose to believe Dustin. Much to Steve’s chagrin. In his mind, any chance that you get to disagree with him, you will gladly fucking take it. He is really committed to you being his enemy.

And you know what? Fine. You can play. You've been playing.

Eventually, Nancy comes back into the picture.

And honestly? Watching her be all into Steve again? As if she isn't in a relationship with Jonathan still? That pisses you off.

Not because you’re jealous. No, no. Not that.

…yeah no, it’s not that.

Nah, it’s the way this girl just cannot for the life of her figure out what she is feeling. Dear lord, woman. Pick.

Eventually, you comment on this. But not until Eddie Munson is suddenly roped into y’all’s crew and you both strangely hit it off. You share the same taste in music. You both compare concert history, listing off you're favorites and randomly bursting into song. Very scream-o, metal music. Eddie thinks you're the shit, and you make him laugh a lot. He also makes you laugh a lot.

Steve hates that.  He really, really hates that.

But not because he is jealous. No, no. It’s not that.

…yeah, it’s definitely not that.

Nah, it’s the way you make friends with someone he isn't a fan of just to spite him. You know he doesn’t like Eddie. You know he feels replaced by Dustin for him. You’re doing this shit on purpose. He knows it. He just knows it.

Regardless, you both stand by each other throughout the whole Vecna ordeal. And Max?  She loves you. Trusts you. A lot. You also tell her not to give Steve so much shit. So he’ll give you that.

But that’s all he’s gonna give you. And even that has its limits.

Whenever you all find out that Max is cursed, the first person that Steve finds himself looking at is you. Because you're the co-parent. You've gotta help him know what to do. You feel the exact same way.

You both witness her possession in he graveyard. You both help calm the kids down, and each other. Whenever Max writes letters to each of you, she looks at both you and Steve for a long time. A really long time. It's very uncomfortable.

...then she's finally handing you both a letter, and the look she shoots you both afterwards in really unsettling. Like she knows something.

But what the hell is there to know? That you both can't stand each other? NEWSFLASH: EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT. So joke's on them.

...not Max though. She's in trouble. So she's allowed to know whatever the hell...that she...knows...?

You and Steve both profusely disagree with everyone about the idea of Max becoming the bait. In fact, it's the first time that you both are defending each other to everyone else. Whenever Max argues Steve, you tell her to listen.

"Steve has every right to be worried right now. We all do, Max."

She sighs, knowing that you're right.

And whenever Dustin tries to get quippy with you about stuff, Steve shuts him down real fast.

"Hey. Not cool. Bauman's in the right, check yourself."

Dustin also sighs, knowing that he's right.

Because you both know these kids better than anyone. You helped Mike ease up on Hopper, becoming that one older-sister figure he can actually go to and be normal around. Hell, he even hugs you. Mike never hugs anyone, except El. And Lucas? You and Steve are at every single one of his games, like proud parents. Will calls you whenever he wants to paint, knowing that you enjoy art. You've spent many nights painting with him, and even Steve will join with the other kids. They mostly just finger paint and bicker, but it's still lovely in its own sort of way. And then there's Dustin. The golden child, who both of you wanna hug and strangle at the same time. He is forever putting the two of you in close proximity, secretly loving the tension between the two of you. He figures that it's just because you both wanna be the favorite parent, and Dustin is too fixated on why Steve hasn't started dating Robin to even remotely suspect that you two could be an item.

There's a plan in motion now. It's in full swing, all groups peeling off. There's a new species added to the fucked up realm (the newly coined named for them is demo-bats) and you've somehow saved Steve's ass for the 3rd time. This guy seriously cannot catch a break.

But now, Eddie’s suddenly encouraging Steve to go after Nancy again. And damn, that bugs you.  It really motherfuckin’ gets under your skin. Because Eddie doesn’t know the full story about what went down between them. Not even close.

You can't help yourself. You tell Steve this, once Eddie walks up ahead. But of course, Steve is rebuking everything that you are saying.

And then he's telling you that Nancy is different, and -- “actually, things are better.” 

But you scoff at that, incredulously. And you're telling him to "wake up and realize that 1) she’s still with lover-boy Byers, and 2) you shouldn’t pine after someone who chose someone else over you."

You mean to say it kindly. Honestly, you try to.

But Steve doesn’t think so.  And he’s faster. He’s also cruel.

“Maybe that’s why you broke us up, huh?" Steve is firing back at you with all that he's got now. "Because you’re used to that. Being the second choice. Weren’t you Clark’s best friend? Didn’t he drag you along until he ended up picking Becky? Yeah. Thought I didn’t know that, right? Or how you hung out with some of the basketball guys and never once got asked out by any of them? God, it’s so obvious. Also, it’s pathetic. You clearly hate seeing anyone happy. So hey, guess what? You got your wish: successfully ruining someone else’s happiness. Bingo! Congratulations, you won.”

It hurts. It really does. It fucking hurts.

Still, you do try to reason with him. It’s a little harsh, you’ll admit it. You’re not exactly speaking to him sweetly. But you try.

“All my personal love life issues aside —" you start, bringing your voice down and speaking as level as possible. "...which honestly, I’ve never even had something worth labeling as love — Steve, YOU still deserve to —”

“To suffer,” he cuts you off. “Yeah. I know. And the fact you’ve not had love? That just further proves my point. You admit it and yet you’re still out to get me. Because you’re fucking miserable.”

Alright, you’ve had it.

“I’m miserable?” you ask, ready to fire back. “Steve. You’re the one letting your ex-girlfriend — who didn’t even properly dump you — toy with your brain again into actually thinking she’s gonna pick you this time. She doesn’t deserve that. And you certainly don’t deserve —”

“You deserve nothing.” Steve is seething. Then hissing at you, “You’re bullshit, Bauman. You and your whack job Uncle. You’re both bullshit.”

So you stop. You let it go.

You let Steve Harrington hate you and suffer his own misfortunes. And you pretend that what he said didn’t just shatter your soul into a million tiny pieces.  You nod at him, swallowing hard.

“My uncle is twice the man you’ll ever be. King Steve.”  

It’s a pathetic last attempt. And your voice feels small, tight. But standing up for your uncle is better than yourself at this point. You walk off, away from him.

And Steve doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t tell you not to walk away. He lets you.

So he doesn’t see you cry alone inside of the upside down version of the Wheelers’ bathroom.  He doesn’t see your heart break in two, and he doesn’t see you bite back the sobs sinking your teeth into your palms.

[creedslove]

BABE JOELLL PLEASEEEE JOEEEELLL. If you can maybe post-outbreak!Joel (?). Like he’s been with reader on the road with Ellie before they came to Jackson and they had like a thing going on. Once they settled down they decided that they would’ve been better off as just friends and Joel finds another woman (like closer to his age ecct) but Joel and reader were still close to each other and Joel’s new woman is jealous and asks him to chose between her and the reader

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: love this anon, this idea is genius!

• life on the road trying to survive wasn't easy for anybody, not since the world ended and the ones who hadn't died had to fight unimaginable horrors to survive so it was common for people to get cozy with each other, looking for some comfort, warmth and maybe a little pleasure

• and that was exactly what happened between you and Joel while the two of you plus Ellie crossed the country in order to find Tommy and settle in Jackson

• Joel wasn't the warmest guy nor the most friendly you'd met, but he was loyal, protective and he was a fine damn lover for someone who'd been striving with the basics for twenty years into the apocalypse, however, getting to know this side of Joel took time, as he didn't want to open up to you or let you get closer, but once it happened, he felt he needed you on a daily basis

• you didn't actually label your relationship with him, of course you slept together, you kissed and cuddled and you would die and kill for each other without a second thought but you wouldn't dare calling Joel your boyfriend and he would rather have someone holding him at gunpoint than to acknowledge exactly what nature of feelings he felt for you, let out word them out

• but it worked through all the excruciating crusade you shared until you reached your final destination, there wasn't a day Joel hadn't had his arms wrapped around you, keeping your warm when fires weren't a safe option out in the open, or when your body gave him the release he craved, intoxicated in your embraced, giving Joel what he needed but refused to admit

• when you three got to Jackson, a couple of days went by while Joel was getting acquainted with his brother again and you and Ellie were catching up on much needed sleep and skipped meals after all that time on the road

• so when Joel finally saw you again without being in a rush, his heart skipped a beat: you were so beautiful, too beautiful, the kind of beautiful that made his chest tighten

• of course he knew you were beautiful, he was attracted to you after all, but seeing you looking so carefree, happy, well-fed, cleaned up and wearing fresh new clothes made him realize how way out of his league you really were; not only that, he could also see how other men looked at you and he felt so guilty

• guilty because you were way too pretty and young for him, guilty because you were full of life and you deserved to have a chance of living a happy life now you found a place where life could be almost normal, guilty because he felt it would be a matter of time until one of those young men would sweep you off your feet because they could offer you something Joel couldn't: stability and a possibility of having a family

• so he made up his mind and when you tried sneaking into his bed at night, to finally manage to spend time with him in a comfortable mattress, where you didn't need to hump each other in your jeans in fear of having to escape, he stopped you and took your hand

• those sad cow eyes of his being honest as he told you you would be better off as friends, assuring you he would always care for you, protect you and keep you in his heart forever and it shattered his heart when he saw how bad you were holding back your tears not to cry in front of him, but eventually you agreed, there was nothing you could do, you couldn't force Joel to stay in a relationship with you, it was madness so you thanked him for your time together and promised you wouldn't push him away

• as you moved into your own place, you missed Joel so much, Ellie was still hoovering over you all the time, which was great, you were so thankful for that, and even Joel who tried making some kind of distance would stop by regularly to check on you, have a cup of coffee and grab a meal together

• until you found out Joel was seeing another woman; at first you chuckled to yourself, it sounded crazy to you, but when Ellie arrived at your place complaining about the "annoying cunt" - her words, not yours - Joel started to see, your heart sank in your chest

• you swallowed hard and felt yourself so lost at that moment, it was so difficult to keep pretending you didn't have deeper feelings for Joel, but as long as he was still visiting and you shared that same tension, you still had hopes, but learning he was seeing someone else, was like an ice bucket poured over you, it meant it was over because if he liked her, it meant he didn't like you

• so you decided to look for more information on her and you found out her name was Heather, she had been part of the community since the beginning and she was closer in age to Joel, which made you upset, as you were convinced he didn't want you anymore

• Joel, on the other hand, didn't actually want to meet nor date anyone but Tommy insisted he should go out and meet someone and preferably get laid. He also didn't understand why his brother had decided to break up with you,but since it was done, he knew Heather would be a good fit for Joel

• Heather was... Alright. They were almost the same age which was nice to be able to talk to someone who actually lived a life before the outbreak, remembered the same things and used to watch the same movies and shows, he was also good looking and gentle, but she wasn't you

• she wasn't as beautiful as you were, she wasn't as patient and funny, she didn't have the same corky sense of humor you did or how you could simply overlook all the bad things Joel had done, truth to be told, he wasn't in love with her as he was in love with you

• and as much as he tried to bury deep those feelings, it seemed more and more difficult, and he caught himself unable to simply stay away from you, he couldn't, he was just around you all the time

• it was uncommon to see you walking alongside the streets, Joel often walked you to your job, or picked you up even if it was perfectly safe and he didn't actually need to do this, not to mention the evenings he would either go to your porch and play some guitar just to enjoy your company or invite you to his so you would watch Ellie having her guitar lessons

• and as much as Heather tried being understanding about it, she simply couldn't. She could tell her boyfriend wasn't that her, but then him being in love with another woman was a whole other level

• so she waited for Ellie to go to bed and for you to leave his porch and knocked on his door

"Joel, you and I aren't kids anymore, what are we really doing? Because I started dating you thinking that maybe we would hit off, but this is clearly not working, you gotta make up your mind, Joel!"

"what do you mean?!"

"you know exactly what I mean, Joel! It's either her or me, you gotta decide, because I'm not gonna be here watching you going back to her every time"

• Heather finally says and Joel lowers his head, he looks around then back at her, he couldn't lie anymore, not to her, not to you and mostly not to himself

"I'm sorry Heather, it's her, it's always been her, there's no way I could choose anyone else but her"

• he said and left, he wanted to see you as soon as possible hoping he could still make things right with the woman he truly loved, you 💞

____

[ladykailitha]

Exit Eddie Pursued By a Steve Part 2

As @a-little-unsteddie pointed out, I can't really call it one-shot Saturdays if it has more than one part (the tag made me laugh). But I'm not sure what to call it. It's essentially whatever story I have finished that isn't one of my big three (Well Met By Moonlight, Royal Pain, and Grief (A Friend Indeed)). Which would include one-shots, short stories (like this one) or long fics (like Find My Shade By the Moonlight, my Halloween one).

Part 1

****

“Holy fuck,” Jeff said. “He laughed at an Eddie-ism and not mockingly either.”

“His varsity ring,” Gareth replied numbly. “He gave Eddie his varsity ring.”

“That possessive draping his arms over Eddie’s shoulders...” Brian muttered.

Eddie just chewed happily on his pretzels as he watched his friends repeat all the things that Steve and he had done that morning.

“So...no broken hearts this fine Friday morning, is there?” he said into a brief lull in their retelling.

All three heads snapped his direction.

“How the hell did you manage to convince Steve Harrington to be your boyfriend?” Jeff asked.

“I really don’t think you want the play by play,” Eddie teased.

They all made gagging sounds.

Suddenly there were shadows standing above them.

Eddie looked up to see Tommy H, Carol, and about half the basketball team glaring at him.

“And how I can I help you gentlemen and lady today?” he asked, grinning around chewing on a pretzel.

“What did you do to Steve?” Tommy asked. “What spell did you use, man?”

Gareth snorted.

“This is serious!” Carol shrieked. “You tell your friend to undo whatever it was that he used to curse Steve.”

“Hon,” Jeff said with a raised eyebrow, “if Eddie could do magic don’t you think he would have magicked his way through school and not had to do a second time at being a senior?”

They all kind of looked at each other a moment before the muttering started.

Eddie just shook his head. “Maybe what swayed Steve was just good ‘ole fashioned being taken care of instead of having to take care of everyone else.”

He turned his head and could see Nancy and Jonathan close by listening to him.

“Because,” he continued a little louder, “if you lot had given as much of damn about him as he did about you, maybe I wouldn’t have had to adopt him like have all my other little sheep. So fuck off. And maybe ask Steve why he abandoned you lot.”

He waved them off and went back to eating his lunch.

*

Steve was showering after gym and could feel the eyes on him. He looked up to see that half of the boys showering were looking at him and the other half was avoiding his eye.

“Did theater turn you gay?” one of the guys asked.

Steve had give it to the kid for actually having the balls to say something. He sighed and turned off the water. “I like dicks and hard chests. I also like soft breasts and wet cunts. It’s not always an either or thing.”

Some of the guys started covering their junks and he laughed.

“Oh god, I don’t care about your dicks, for fuck’s sake,” he said rolling his eyes. He turned the water back on. “I’ve never looked at any of your scaly dicks. I can see how quickly you shower. I don’t need to look at your dick to know you didn’t wash it.”

Some of them ducked their heads as they knew he was talking about them.

“And don’t think for a second that I’m the only queer in this shower room either,” he continued. “You lot aren’t as slick as you think you are. Plus, what would I want with any of your dicks? Have you seen Munson’s? Take it from someone who has, it’s far superior to you lot.”

Steve finished up rinsing his hair and got dressed. The second he was out the door, the locker room erupted in a cacophony of gossip. He just shook his head.

*

Steve walked out to the parking lot where Eddie was waiting for him. He strolled right up to where his boyfriend was lounging against the driver’s side door of his van.

“Hey, honey,” Eddie greeted with a big smile. “Miss me?”

“Always.” Steve kissed him soundly.

Eddie pulled him closer to deepen the kiss, hands buried into Steve’s gorgeous locks.

When they finally broke apart, Eddie licked his lips. “Damn, Stevie, if you kiss like that all the time it’s no wonder all the girls are after you all the time.”

Steve draped his arms around Eddie’s neck. “Only you, sunshine.”

Eddie tucked his hands into Steve’s back pockets. “You got the play again tonight?”

Steve hummed. “And tomorrow, too.”

Eddie chewed his bottom lip. “I want you to meet my Uncle Wayne. Is it too soon?”

Steve shook his head. “I’d love to meet your uncle, baby. You just don’t want to meet my parents.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “You won’t get into trouble by dating me openly, will you?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t honestly know. But it wouldn’t matter if I did. I’d pick you over those jackasses that haven’t been around much since I turned sixteen.”

Eddie hummed. “Okay, baby. I just want you safe.”

Steve kissed him. “Thanks for that. But I’ll be fine.”

“So I’m coming to the play tonight,” Eddie said, “all proper, with a ticket and everything.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You hoping for a repeat performance after last night, Eds?”

“And if I was?” he growled in Steve’s ear.

Steve giggled. “I have an outfit that I’m actually wearing at the end of the play that I think you’ll enjoy a little more than the ballgown, baby.”

Eddie’s nostrils flared in want. “Yeah, honey, we can do that.”

Steve kissed him deeply. “Can’t wait.”

“What time do you have to be here tomorrow for the play?”

“I have to be here at three, why?” Steve asked, rubbing his nose along Eddie’s.

“My uncle has work at two,” Eddie explained, “so why don’t you come over tomorrow for lunch and meet him.”

Steve kissed him fiercely. “Okay, sunshine. I’ll bring pizza, is noon okay?”

Eddie nodded. “I’ll see you then, princess.”

They finally broke apart and Steve walked back the school.

Jeff shook his head and clacked his tongue. “Dude that was the most disgusting display of affection I’ve ever seen. And you’ve met my parents.”

Eddie cackled. “Just wait boys, I have feeling we’re about to get so much worse.”

*

Eddie sat in the back of the school auditorium and grinned when Steve came out in a yellow robe over just a corset and pantaloons with stockings and kitten-heeled shoes for the scene with Cinderella trying on the glass slipper.

Eddie ran his tongue over his lips slowly. Steve had been right. The ballgown had been a treat, but this? This was the fucking main course.

He waited until all the other guys had filed out of the drama room to enter. He nearly growled when he saw Steve draped against the sofa dressed as he was in the play minus the silk robe. Which was fair. That was a lot harder to keep out of the way.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” Steve murmured. He rand his hands down the corset and Eddie growled. And then pounced.

Sex that time was different. Now that they both knew that they were on the same page, it was both more tender and a lot raunchier.

When they were getting dressed, Steve hummed.

“You know,” he said. “you really are good at making sure there isn’t anything on the clothes.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “That’s because if you’re sneaking around and don’t want people to know, you learn real quick the art of not letting it show on the outside.”

Steve stopped what he was doing and walked over to him. He lifted his chin and gave him a deep kiss. “You’ll never have to worry about that unless you want to. Like tonight and last night. This is just a bit of fun, but...” he held up Eddie’s right hand that held Steve’s varsity ring, “this is a full on declaration, okay? I won’t ever hide that I’m yours.”

Eddie nodded. “You’ve got it, sweetheart.”

“Good,” Steve murmured. “I’m starving and Benny’s has pancakes on special on Fridays.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, baby, it’ll be my treat.”

****

Part 3

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1

[glorious-spoon]

your way or nothing at all [9-1-1 | Eddie Diaz | 1/1]

1500 words character study | mild angst | weddings | background buck/tommy, eddie/marisol | pre-relationship buddie | not quite a feelings realization for eddie but he's getting there

-

In the quieting dark, Eddie lingers by the tables, the empty chairs pushed together in a cluster for a conversation long since abandoned. It's late enough that people are starting to filter out into the night, and pretty much everybody left is crowded at the open bar or swaying on the dance floor. At the high table, Maddie has Buck's suit jacket draped over her shoulders and her cheek tipped against Chim's shoulder, and he's looking down at her with a dopily besotted expression that Eddie can clock even from here.

It makes him feel like—something, some kind of nostalgia for the wedding he never got to have with Shannon. That whole day felt like being hustled through a play that he never learned his lines to. Shannon was three months pregnant and deep in the throes of vicious morning sickness that was not improved by the catering or the stress of the day, so he spent their wedding night holding back her hair in the honeymoon suite his parents paid for and trying desperately to feel like he had a single fucking clue what he was doing. Trying to feel like a man and a husband and a father-to-be and mostly feeling like a complete fraud.

They deserved better. Both of them. Now, in this moment, after this day, it soothes more than it stings to watch Maddie and Chim hold onto each other so easily.

The song changes, and he watches a swirl of motion on the bar side of the dance floor, the particular energy that's easily identifiable as Buck even before he emerges from the crowd. Normally, maybe Eddie would gravitate in, but Buck's got a hand linked together with Tommy's, and they're laughing, and so he stays where he is. Just watches.

It's sweet, a little fumbling as Buck very obviously tries to figure out the logistics of slow-dancing with another guy. Tommy says something in a low voice and settles a palm on his hip, and Buck ducks his head, laughing, and leans into him.

It's sweet. It is. Eddie's throat fucking aches.

He doesn't know why, not really. Maybe it's the smile on Buck's face, wide and giddy and almost embarrassingly bright. He never smiled at Natalia like that, or Taylor. Maybe Ali, but the truth is that back then Eddie wasn't looking for it. Back then, he was so caught up in everything with Shannon, and he and Buck were barely more than friendly coworkers, as strange as that idea seems now.

He probably smiled at Abby like that. Eddie wasn't around for that relationship, only the aftermath, but he can imagine it. You don't hurt that badly when someone leaves you unless you really fucking loved them.

"You would not believe the line for the bathroom," Marisol says from behind him, and Eddie jolts like he just grabbed a high-voltage wire. He tries to spin it into something graceful as he turns to face her, but he's pretty sure it doesn't work, and also pretty sure that he shouldn't be feeling quite so jumpscared at the sight of his girlfriend. His heart is pounding. He rubs his knuckles against his sternum, and Marisol asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "Sorry. You startled me."

"No, it's fine." She smiles at him, and it's pretty. She looks pretty, in a blue dress that looks black in this light, little metallic threads picked through and glittering. It hugs the curves of her body in a way that Eddie feels obligated to notice, and so he does, and when he looks her in the eye again she's smiling wider, and that's pretty too and Eddie—

Eddie still feels like a fucking fraud.

"I got you a beer," Marisol says. She's got a glass of wine in her other hand. White wine, lipstick marks on the rim.

Eddie smiles back and takes the bottle she hands him. "Thanks."

"I wasn't sure what you'd want." She grins at him, flirty. "You'll have to tell me if I made a bad guess."

He sips the beer. It's a lager, hoppy and astringent in a way that leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He takes another drink and smiles around the grimace his mouth wants to make. "It's perfect. Thank you."

The pleased relief in her smile doesn't make the lie feel any better. He takes another sip and sets the bottle down, and Marisol settles her hip against his chair, close enough that he can feel the warmth of her body. Close enough that he could wrap an arm around her thighs and pull her into his lap, if he wanted to do that. He shifts forward instead, leaning his elbows against the table, and she lets out a quiet sound and sets her glass down to sit in the chair next to him. The music switches over from Christina Perri to what Eddie is pretty sure is Savage Garden, and on the dance floor Tommy says something that makes Buck laugh and pull him closer.

"They're cute together," Marisol observes. "Buck and, um… Tommy?"

Eddie's fingers twitch on his beer bottle. "Yeah."

"I didn't know that he was, you know…" she trails off. Eddie looks over at her, and she adds, "Not that there's anything wrong with it! I just, I thought he had a girlfriend."

"They broke up. He dates guys too," Eddie says, more emphatically than is really necessary. Like this is a truth that he's always known instead of something Buck told him two weeks ago in the loft, quiet and careful like he was afraid of how Eddie would react. Like he was afraid of Eddie.

It was a date, we were on a date.

So it's new for Buck, too. Not just him. But still.

It feels like something he should have known.

"Okay," Marisol says. The corners of her mouth tighten, and she takes a pointed sip of her wine. "I didn't know that, is all."

I didn't know either, Eddie imagines saying, but the words strangle themselves in his throat just the same as, Actually, I don't like lagers, and, I don't really want company tonight, did. He wonders how the hell Buck does it—just opens his mouth and lets the truth spill out. Eddie can only manage that when it's for other people. Never for himself.

"Sorry," he says out loud. "It's been… a day."

Marisol's face softens a little, and he feels like shit about that, too. It has been a day, is the thing. He woke up in a bathtub, more hungover than he's been in at least a decade, and after that was a wild goose-chase through the desert to retrieve Chim in time for the wedding, and all that is plenty of reason for him to be off his game now. It's just that somehow it also feels like a fucking lie.

On the dance floor, Buck has his cheek pressed to Tommy's. He says something, and Tommy's shoulders shake with laughter, and then they both turn, moving easily together into a kiss. It's quick and tender, and Eddie abruptly feels like the worst kind of voyeur for watching it happen. He turns his head away and finds Marisol looking at him.

The music changes again. TLC, he's pretty sure, because Chim is deep down a very basic Gen X music kind of guy. Or maybe it was Maddie's pick, who knows. Anyway. It's a little more upbeat, but still slow enough to dance to.

"You, uh." He clears his throat, and finds a smile that feels almost right. "Come on, you wanna dance before they close it all down? They're playing our song."

"This is our song?" Marisol asks, but she's laughing. "I don't even think I was born yet when it came out."

Eddie shrugs and holds out a hand. "It could be our song. Maybe for tonight it's just a good song to dance to."

That must have been the right thing to say. She smiles, sets her wine down, and slips her hand into his, letting him tug her to her feet. They wind their way through the chairs to the dance floor, and under the string lights she settles easily into his arms. 

I know you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all, rasps the singer in a sweetly smoky voice, as Eddie closes his eyes, and sways, and breathes, but I think you're moving too fast.

I think you're moving too fast.

He breathes in, and out, and opens his eyes. Marisol smiles up at him, and he smiles back, then cuts his eyes away. There are still a handful of people left on the dance floor with them: Athena and Bobby, swaying together like they're in their own little world, a couple of Buckley cousins with their dates. Buck and Tommy are gone, though, and Eddie almost cranes his head through the crowd to see where they got to before he catches himself.

"To tell you the truth," Marisol says. "I really don't think this is our song."

"Alright, well, we can find another one," Eddie says, and she laughs and sways into him, and he holds onto her, and when he closes his eyes, it's fine; it all feels fine.

[emilybahu]

Alright you guys, hear me out for a second, I know Lou said at some point that the doesn’t like like idea of onscreen make-out/sex scenes because they don’t really further the story. However, I just feel like if it’s done right it can be so beautiful and show the growth of Buck’s confidence in this relationship and in his identity as a bisexual man.

Scenes like these don’t have to be all hot and steamy, they can be tender and slow and show the characters exploring each other physically and emotionally. So much can be said through a kiss or even just a touch, we see it at the end of 7x04, with The Kiss, we all know how much meaning it had, it wasn’t just a kiss, it was a realization! Then at the end of 7x05 when Buck and Tommy kinda hold hands at the coffee shop. It’s a small gesture, but it shows so much growth in Buck’s confidence in his identity.

Anyway, here’s a little scene that I wrote, just a way that I think they could go about doing a make-out/kiss scene while keeping things from getting too… you know 😳:

What if we got this montage of Buck and Tommy on a date, spending the day together, and they’re having so much fun, smiling, laughing, maybe even holding hands 😊. (This would be like a couple months into them being together)

Then we see them at the end of the date at Buck’s place just hanging out for a few minutes, and they’re talking about what a nice time they had, and trying to plan another date with their crazy hours.

Buck and Tommy are standing close to begin with, but Tommy takes a step closer putting a hand on the counter next to Buck’s and the other on his face. He’s going to give Buck a kiss goodbye for the night, which isn’t new anymore, but they still both get some butterflies anyway.

Tommy kisses Buck sweetly and gently, and Buck slides his hands up Tommy’s chest until his arms are around his neck, pulling him ever so slightly closer. Buck was enjoying this a lot, even though he’s kissed Tommy plenty at this point he still feels like he can’t get enough.

Of course as that thought goes through Buck’s head Tommy begins to pull away. Buck lets his disappointment at Tommy’s pulling away be known with a quiet hum. He quietly snickers at this as Buck tries to chase his lips with his own. Tommy then leans down again laying small kisses down Buck’s jaw and moving his hand from the counter to Buck’s waist, gently rubbing his thumb over his ribs.

At that moment, Buck sighed softly. Then Tommy stopped to look at him to make sure he wasn’t going too far, (Buck was still new to dating men after all). As it turned out though Tommy didn’t have to be worried about that tonight because as soon as he pulled away from his jaw Buck was redirecting his face so their lips could meet again.

The kiss stayed soft and slow, as it was before, but still Tommy gives a surprised hum, not expecting Buck to be so forward. He’s not complaining though as Buck moves a hand down his back, slowly pulling them together until their bodies are fully against each other. At this Tommy gripped Buck’s waist a little tighter, causing him to hum into the kiss as well.

As they slowly parted, they pecked each other’s lips and leaned their foreheads together as they smiled at each other.

Tommy was so proud of Buck, he’s been enjoying watching his confidence grow on every date, and tonight… well that had to have been the best kiss yet. Confidence looks and feels good rolling off of Buck and Tommy is excited to see what even more confidence does for him.

For now though, even though they want nothing more than to be wrapped around each other, Tommy steps away slightly“that was quite the good night kiss there Evan” he said breathlessly, his hand still resting on Buck’s waist.

Buck responded with a dazed “y-yeah it sure was” still seemingly lost in his own little world leaning his head into Tommy’s hand.

“Hey Evan,” Tommy said gently, taking his other hand off Buck’s waist and running it through his hair “you still with me.”

This seemed to pull Buck out of his trance a little bit “hmmm yeah…” he said with a sweet smile turning his head slightly to kiss his palm “definitely still with you Tommy”.

Tommy smiled at this and said “good, you’re adorable Evan,” he lightly chuckled, “I had a great day with you today!”

At this Buck blushed and ducked his head, then looked back up and said “I had a great day with you too Tommy, you really know how to show a guy a good time!”

“Mmmm… I do, don’t I?” Tommy asked as Buck kissed his jaw lightly.

Buck responded with a slightly muffled “mmmhhhmmm” as he pulled Tommy closer into a hug and nuzzled his face into his neck. And that’s how they stood for a few more minutes, basking in each other’s warmth, enjoying being held.

Eventually Tommy ducked his head down and kissed Buck’s temple then whispered “god, I wish I didn’t have a shift tomorrow…. I really should be going…” giving Buck an extra tight squeeze before pulling away enough to give Buck another quick peck on the lips.

“Ok then, I’ll see you soon, drive safe, text me when you get home, yeah?” Buck said quietly before loosening his grip on Tommy and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes, definitely,” Tommy said “for take out and a movie” he pauses to give Buck a short, sweet, passionate kiss, “and definitely more of this.” Then Tommy winked and shot him a seductive grin.

At that Buck felt like he might just melt into the floor “oh-ok you’d better get out of here before I never let you leave.” He said, lightly pushing Tommy’s chest away.

“Ok, ok” Tommy said, smiling as he stepped back, letting his hands slip from where they were lying on Buck’s waist, before bringing them up to hold his hands. Tommy turned and started toward the door, basically dragging Buck with him.

“What? You planning on taking me with you?” Buck giggled.

“Mmmm that sounds like a good idea, not tonight though,” Tommy chuckles as they reach the door.“I will text you when I get home, and we’ll plan our next date soon” he says quietly as he lands one last peck on Buck’s lips. He begins to open the door as he pulls away “goodbye Evan, see you soon” Tommy says, grinning, as he’s walking backwards down the hall he winks and adds an “I miss you already” as if he’s trying to make Buck even more flustered than he already is.

Buck blushes and slightly stutters “g-goodbye Tommy, s-see you soon” he stands in his open doorway watching until he can no longer see Tommy in the hallway. As soon as Buck closes the door he’s got his back against it and is sliding down to the floor.

“Wow” Buck whispers to himself as he cards his hands through his hair, smiles softly and leans his head against the door. Buck lets himself sit there for a while, taking in the silence, thinking about how wonderful his day with Tommy had been. He hadn’t realized how long he was sitting there until his phone buzzed in his pocket, it was Tommy:

‘Home safe, sleep well Evan 😘’

Buck quickly responded:

‘Good, you sleep well too Tommy 😘’

With that Buck finally pulled himself from the floor and stretched a little bit before locking his door. He then walked upstairs and got ready for bed, smiling to himself the whole time. Buck gets settled in bed, and he drifts off to sleep still smiling, thoughts of their day and evening still running through his head.

The End

[koshkamartell]

Bad Neighbours

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summary & warnings - set in AU with no outbreak, Joel is in his 50s and reader is much younger, noncon, degradation, use of words like whore and slut, violence.

___________________________________________________

Joel didn't like you.

He didn't like the way you let your front garden overgrow, or how your friends came and went all hours of the night, the sound of their car engines stirring him awake from precious sleep after a hard day's work. He didn't know what you did for work, if you even had a job.

Joel didn't like how chatty you were with the other neighbours. You hadn't really interacted with him besides the occasional wave when you happened to be outside your house at the same time he was. But he often saw you talking with some of the other residents on the street, smiling and tossing your hair off your shoulders. Like you were flirting. You were too friendly.

Did you flirt with everyone or something?

It's not like Joel avoided you. You always seemed busy with something anyway. Going out in your car and returning sometime later with music pulsing through your stereo, paper shopping bags clutched in one hand, some frappe drink in your other. Those oversized sunglasses sitting on your face and your pouty lips glossed.

He didn't keep tabs on you or anything. But there were times he would catch a glimpse of you across the street through his living room window, and he would peek out the blinds to see just what the hell you were up to.

Last weekend you had washed your car in your driveway, the hose in your hands blasting a river of soapy water down the concrete and into the street gutter. Like you didn't give a shit about wasting water or anything. He watched as you leaned over the hood to scrub with a large yellow sponge. Did you even know what the fuck you were doing? Probably scratching the paintwork or something. Your shirt had gotten soaking wet and was sticking to your skin. You stopped to wipe your cheek with the back of your hand and had unknowingly swiped some foam on your face. Joel didn't think it was endearing or sort of cute.

You pissed him off.

Especially with the clothes you wore. Sundresses that emphasised your waist and breasts, skirts that showed your pretty legs, oversized shirts with short shorts. Some mornings you even fetched the mail dressed in nothing but a tank top and pyjama shorts.

Whose attention were you trying to catch?

When Tommy and his buddies came over for poker night they sometimes saw you coming or going. Their polite smiles vanished once they walked inside Joel's house. Then came the inevitable ribbing and dirty talk from them, jokes about what they would do to you, how they would find all sorts of excuses to knock on your door under the guise of being a friendly neighbour. Joel would just grumble and tell them to knock it off.

"Hot little thing," Tommy grinned one time. "Tread on her back tyres look a little worn. Maybe I should go over and let her know, give her a hand changing 'em?"

"Yeah, bet she'd be so grateful that she'd suck your dick," one of the others laughed.

"Jus' leave it," Joel snapped.

"Why's that? She got a man?" Tommy asked.

"How the fuck would I know?" Joel scowled, annoyed.

He didn't know if you had a boyfriend or not. He'd seen a guy park his car outside your place a few times before, but that was months ago. If you did, it would probably be someone your own age. Someone less cranky and alot younger than Joel. Joel wondered if you sucked the guy's cock. You probably loved to suck cock.

Joel hadn't gotten a blowjob in a long time. He hadn't been laid in over a year. He didn't have the time or patience to really date a woman and he didn't have the energy to go out to a bar and find a quick fuck. Work consumed most of his time and it was stressful. He was always frustrated and grumpy. And his daily routine was always the same - work all day, come home exhausted and aching, throw back some whiskey and then try to sleep.

Except tonight he couldn't sleep. Because your friends had been over all evening and all he could hear were loud voices and pumping music coming from your house. Joel tossed and turned in his bed. He checked the digital clock by his bed and saw it read 11pm. He pressed a pillow over his head and groaned.

It was 11.45pm when the party ended and the noise had died down. Car doors slammed and engines cranked to life. Five minutes later the street was calm and quiet again.

But Joel was still awake. He couldn't get to sleep. He was angry. By midnight he was stalking over the street toward your house, his jaw clenching and his fists balled. This was your fucking fault. You were so damn inconsiderate.

Someone needed to tell you just how fucking annoying you were.

Joel pounded on your door. He stood on your doorstep waiting for you to answer, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. He waited ten seconds before he raised his fist to knock once again, then the door opened wide. A stream of light poured out from inside.

Joel's resolve waned for a brief moment when he saw you standing in front of him wearing a baby pink camisole and matching sleep shorts. Your hair was down and a little dishevelled. His dark eyes flickered down your body and then back up to your face. He tried hard to ignore the swell of your breasts peaking over the lace trim. He cleared his throat.

You looked surprised to see him, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, hi. Is everything okay?" You asked, voice gentle and concerned. You took a step towards him so that only a small space separated you. He could smell your strawberry body lotion.

Joel put his hands on his hips and glared down at you.

"Some of us have been workin' all day and need to sleep," he grizzled. "But you and your little friends make it really fuckin' hard to do that when you're up all hours of the night partying."

Your eyes widened and you blinked rapidly, taken aback.

"Oh. I'm sorry," you replied with sincerity.

"I'm up early every day, breakin' my back runnin' my business." He huffed. "And I can't even get some damn sleep with y'all bein' loud and not givin' a damn about anyone else."

You bit your lower lip sheepishly and shuffled a little on the spot.

"I really am sorry, Mr. Miller."

Fuck. Your words made his cock twitch in his sweatpants. He nostrils flared as he stared down at you. You were being so polite. So innocent. Joel figured it was all an act, your sorrys and wide pretty eyes; a way for you to wriggle out of responsibility. You probably you used your looks to get your way all the time. The thought just made him madder.

"But it's a Friday night," you said hesitantly. "And the party finished before midnight."

Joel's brows creased into a disbelieving frown.

"Now you're back chattin' me?" He growled.

"No, not at all, Mr Miller, I just--"

"What makes you think you can just disrespect everybody and do whatever the fuck you want?" Joel snarled.

You were shocked by his outburst. Panic and fear flooded your features.

"No, no, not at all, it's just that it's the weekend and--" you rambled but Joel wasn't listening. Seeing you look so frightened and delicate and pretty in your pink pyjamas flipped a switch inside him, activating the primal side of his brain. In a split second his subconscious decided what he needed to do next.

Before you could finish explaining Joel wrapped a hand firmly around your upper arm and roughly shoved you back into your house. You yelped and stumbled backwards. Joel followed and slammed the door shut behind him, making sure to lock it.

"W-what are you doing?" You stammered.

"You got no respect," Joel muttered. "No goddamn manners. You're inconsiderate as hell. Think you're better than everybody else, is that it? "

"What? No, not at all," you said in a shaky, teary voice. "I said I was sorry, Mister Miller, please--"

Suddenly Joel slapped your face. The force knocked you against the living room wall and you cried out.

"Shut the fuck up," he spat.

The anger and adrenaline was surging through his chest and licked at the nape of his neck. His brown eyes were now blown out and black with malice.

You held your palm against your cheek and stared at him in disbelief, tears now streaming down your face. It made his cock hard in his sweatpants to see you cry.

"Now you're gonna listen to me, you little bitch," Joel spoke calmly. He towered over you like a predatory animal, his hands flexing by his sides. "Someone needs to teach you a lesson on how to behave. Bet your daddy never taught you shit, the way you walk around dressed like a slut."

You let out a helpless sob. It was now clear what Joel wanted to do. You slowly backed away from him while shaking your head.

"Please don't," you hiccuped. "Don't hurt me."

With alarming swiftness Joel lunged to you and wrapped his large hand around your throat. He squeezed just enough to silence you without cutting off your oxygen supply. He hauled you further into the living room, your feet dragging over the carpet.

His other hand grabbed onto your shorts and tore them down your legs, exposing your bare ass and pussy. You kicked your legs and thrashed around but it was hopeless. Joel was so much stronger. He held you effortlessly infront of him.

"Quit squirmin'."

You somehow managed to reach up to slap his cheek as hard as you could. His eyes narrowed at you and his chest expanded as he inhaled a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. You stopped moving as soon as you realised your mistake.

Joel released you and quickly threw you down to the floor on your knees. Before you could scramble away he dropped down behind you and used his weight to push you onto your belly. Your arms were outstretched infront of you in a futile bid to crawl away. His cock pressed inbetween the cheeks of your ass.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He barked at you. "Think you're a big bad girl, hittin' me like that?"

You couldn't move at all underneath him, like a rabbit caught in a snare. Joel grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back painfully.

"Wanna be big and bad, huh? Alright, let's see how tough you are with my cock splittin' you in half."

"No!" You cried hoarsely.

Joel held your head still with his tight hold on your hair. He sat up on his knees behind you and knocked your thighs open and wedged himself inbetween your legs.

Joel looked down at your naked lower half and groaned at the sight of your ass. You were perfect, even better than he imagined. He wished he could take his time with you and not rush, to savour every second of breaking you down. But now you were half naked below him and he couldn't possibly wait any longer. His calloused fingers reached down and ran over the lips of your puffy pussy and down to your slick entrance.

"I'm gonna ruin this whore pussy," Joel's voice was rough and menacing. "Show you what happens to disrespectful sluts who talk back."

All you could do was cry as he hurriedly pushed his sweatpants down his thighs to free his fat aching cock. He spat in his hand and gave it a couple jerks to lubricate himself.

"Please," you whispered through tears. "Please don't do this."

Joel ignored you and notched the head of his dick at your hole. Your body stiffened and you were about to scream when Joel plunged himself inside your pussy; the intrusion of his girth stretched you full and so painfully that all the breath in your lungs left your body.

Joel pressed his pelvis into your ass and let out a loud guttural moan. Holy fuck, you felt so fucking good. The sensation of your wet heat around his cock was heavenly. He felt your pussy clench around him.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmured breathlessly.

Joel lowered himself on-top of your body, caging you with his broad chest. He moved his hips to pull his cock out almost all the way before slamming back into you. You let out a choked shriek.

He clamped his hand over your mouth and repeated the action again and again, his cock spearing into your pussy and his heavy balls clapping against your ass. You screamed into his palm as Joel's hips hammered into yours with hard, deep thrusts.

"What's wrong baby?" Joel mocked. "Does it hurt? Am I tearin' that little pussy up?"

Joel could feel your hot tears spilling down your face. It gave him a smug satisfaction to know it was because of him. He continued fucking you with a savage desperation that he had never felt before in his whole life. He wanted to utterly wreck you, make you bleed.

His thick cock was pounding into your pussy so brutally that he could be making you bleed already.

Your sobs and screams were muffled by his large hand, his fingers digging painfully into your cheek.

"Don't you dare disrespect me ever again, you fuckin' whore," Joel growled.

You couldn't respond. You were close to passing out from the intensity of his body violating yours. Joel wrenched your hair back and spat a glob of saliva onto your face so that it ran down your eyebrow and over the bridge of your nose.

"You hear me, little girl?" He moved his hand from your mouth and gave your face three sharp smacks.

You whined pitifully.

"Fuckin' answer me," Joel snapped, still fucking you raw.

"Yes," you mumbled in a small, broken voice.

"Yes what?" He slapped your face again. "Yes WHAT?"

"Y-y-yes sir."

"That's right, baby, thats all you needed," he murmured, his voice slurred with lust. "Just needed an older man to fuck some sense into you, teach you some respect."

Joel's hand rubbed over your face, mixing his saliva and your tears and snot all over you. The act of humiliation excited him and he felt his orgasm approaching. There was no way he could control himself now. His cock throbbed and his thrusts became sloppy.

"Gonna fill this slutty pussy," Joel groaned, "fuck my cum into it til you're burstin' full'a me."

"No!" You squealed weakly.

Joel slapped his hand back over your mouth, this time covering your nose as well. Your muscles contracted around his shaft as you struggled to breath. Joel pumped into your pussy for a few moments longer before his climax hit. He stilled with his cock buried to the hilt, his balls tightened against your pussy. He moaned and panted as he shot thick ropes of hot cum deep inside your torn, abused hole, his cock pulsing inside your walls.

"Goddamn," Joel mumbled between ragged breaths. "God-fuckin'-damn."

He released his hand from your face and you gasped as the air filled your lungs. He allowed you a few seconds to catch your breath before he whispered in your ear.

"You ain't gonna tell no one a word about this," his voice was ominous as his hand let go of your hair to stroke your head gently. "Or else I'll come back and fuck your mouth so hard I'll break your fuckin' jaw, you understand me?"

"Yes sir," you whispered back quickly, defeated and broken.

Joel withdrew from your pussy and sat back on his haunches. He slapped your ass and squeezed it hard, parting one of your cheeks to look at your asshole and your swollen pussy.

"Perfect fuckin' hole," Joel murmured.

You stayed laying on the carpet on your stomach with his cum slowly seeping out of you. Joel stood up onto his feet, his knees cracking as he straightened. He stepped back and watched you motionless as he yanked his pants back up and tucked himself away.

You looked even more pretty like this, he thought with a pride.

"Good girl," he muttered lowly.

Joel left and slammed the door shut behind him. That night he slept better than he had in a very long time. And when we woke up in the morning he could still smell your strawberry body lotion under his fingernails.

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Prompt: Napping [Part One] [Part Two]

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve says, the words falling out of his mouth, tumbling off the thickness of his tongue. Jaw slack, bottom lip hanging open, and there’s a slight furrow to his brow. Looking at him through droopy eyes, long lashes — fluttering as he blinks up at Tommy.

His gut twists, a curl of nausea wrapping around his middle. How far have they fallen, that Steve didn’t expect Tommy to actually listen to his message. To come visit when he said he was in the hospital. Did he really think Tommy was that much of an asshole? To the people at Hawkins sure, but never Steve. Never Carol. Never the people that actually mattered to him. The rest of Hawkins could get fucked.

People hung out with Steve at school — the guys from the swim team, cheerleaders, all those types — but he didn’t really seem to be friends with them. Just friendly. Surface level, school shit. Have you started that essay, have you heard Nicole’s throwing a party, what’s for lunch? Never anything real. Not like anything he had with Tommy. Carol as well, when she joined the scene.

Except Wheeler. Tommy absently wonders why she isn’t here. Why Steve didn’t ring her. She’s his girlfriend, she should be here with a card and flowers. Sit at his bedside. Except she isn’t here. Tommy is.

“Of course I did.” Tommy says, shrugging his shoulders. Sliding his hands into his pockets, trying so hard to look calm. Normal. This doesn’t have to mean anything, if Steve doesn’t want it to. He’s just his ex best friend, visiting him in hospital to be nice. It’s fine. Except it’s not fine. Tommy’s heart is thundering in his chest so hard it’s a miracle Steve can’t hear it from all the way on the other side of the room.

This feels like the start of something. Tommy hopes it is. Reconnection. Getting his best friend back.

Steve’s gaze softens, his eyes practically melting, settling into something gooey and warm. Like fucking caramel, or honey or some shit. A part of Tommy didn’t think Steve would ever look at him like that again. Not like the pained glances and glares he got in the halls of Hawkins High. On the basketball court.

There was no mask here. Steve doesn’t have the energy for it, to put the mask back on, the façade that everything’s normal. Everything’s fine and it’s better this way.

“Oh,” Steve says, mouth forming a perfect circle. He starts picking at his blanket, tugging at the seam, trying not to wobble as he sits up. Blinking, Steve looks down at his hands and then back at Tommy.  It’s almost bashful. Shy. Steve never used to be shy with him. They could tell each other everything. They knew all about each others first kisses, first times. The foods they like, the ones they hate. What they want from like and the fears that simmer under the surface. Tommy knows all about Mr Harrington’s cheating, and the way it fucked Steve up. And in return Steve knows all about how Tommy’s parents pretend he doesn’t exist and the anger that builds. There was no pressure, no worry, about saying anything to the other. But maybe they’re starting from scratch. And maybe that’s okay. “Thank you.”

“Can I sit?” Tommy asks, pointing at the ugly chair with a thumb. He raises an eyebrow, and tries to will his pulse to stop racing. It’s not just about the chair. It’s about Tommy staying, being allowed in Steve’s presence again. What if he says no? What if he doesn’t actually want to see Tommy again? What if the phone call was Steve just getting it all off his chest?

“Yeah. Sure.” Steve replies, still looking and sounding a little shocked. At the fact that Tommy showed up, or the fact Steve said yes, he’s not sure. He nods, heading over to the ugly chair, and tilts it more towards the bed as he sits down. So he can look at Steve. Fucking engage with him or some shit. Tommy’s here now, and he really doesn’t want to break it. Doesn’t know if he could handle it, honestly. Losing Steve hurt. More than a breakup with Carol ever could, he thinks.

“So what are you in for, anyway?” Tommy asks. To break the ice sure, but also because he’s genuinely curious. Steve didn’t say, just that his brain felt like mud and the nurses didn’t want him wandering. And with the way he’s looking, Tommy doesn’t blame them, Jesus Christ.

“This isn’t prison,” Steve jokes, wincing as he laughs. The motion of it pulling at his wounds, his bruises. His fucking battered body. Sighing, sounding a little strained, Steve relaxes back into his pillows. Turns his head so he’s still looking at Tommy.

“You sure?” He jokes, mouth curling up at the corner. Half a smile, half a sneer, but he tries to make it look genuine. Nicer. Tommy’s fucking trying, alright?

Steve wheezes as he laughs, more an exhale of air than anything. Calming, soothing his lungs, his aching body, Steve takes a slow, deep breath. Blinks as he looks at Tommy. Eyes flicking over his face, roaming over his features.

“Concussion. Bad one. Really bad one.” He says eventually. After a pause. Carefully choosing his words. “Lots of cuts and shit.”

“Fuck, dude,” Tommy starts, almost recoiling. Almost says are you alright on instinct. He catches himself, the words dying on his tongue. Like fucking no, obviously. He looks like he got hit by a truck. Probably feels like it too. It hurts to look at. Way worse than when Steve fought Jon in that alley. Steve was winning that fight too. Tommy fucking stands by that. Jon only had him at the end because the cops showed up and Steve stopped fighting back. And you know who got slapped in cuffs because of it? Fucking Jonathan. Tommy takes a deep breath, takes his hands out of his pockets and tries to look calm. He’s fine. Steve’s hurt and someone hurt him and Tommy’s fine. Flexes out the muscles in his palms, his fingers, and grips the arms of the chair.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, a soft, sleepy smile on his face. “Can’t really be alone right now. But it’s not so bad. I’ve mostly been napping and getting woken up by nurses every hour.”

You’ve got me now, Tommy wants to say. But that doesn’t come out of his mouth. He takes a shuddering breath, gestures to the door he just came through with a trembling hand. “I can go, if you need to nap?”

“No.” Steve says quickly, automatically, hand reaching out towards Tommy. Bites his lip, gaze dipping down to his hand, over to Tommy, head bobbing heavily with the weight of it. He looks shy again. There’s a worry in his eyes, wrinkling at the corners. “Don’t go. Please?”

And oh fuck that hurts. He looks a lot like the scared kid who used to come over to Tommy’s house because his parents left for the weekend and he didn’t want to be alone. Wanting the company but also being ashamed to ask for it. His father’s influence, Tommy knows.

“Okay,” he says, trying not to sound so relieved himself. “I’ll stay.”

[Part Four] [Part Five]

[dadvans]

tidbit tuesday

thanks for tagging @tiltingheartand! more from the trivia series i've been working on from last week:

Sometimes others join them for trivia night. A colleague or two of Tommy’s has come by for a beer with them after a bad shift, but some of the 118 crew is more common. Hen gets the first invite after a surprisingly brutal Anatomy round one week.

Tommy raises a glass to welcome her as she sits down with her own drink, but he nods at Evan sitting next to him. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, joining this guy’s team.”

“What do you mean by that?” Evan asks, then turns to Hen, who starts laughing. “What does he mean by that?”

“Sweetheart, we’re here every week beating teams of five or six people,” Tommy says, rubbing his shoulder, letting his fingers trace down the curve of Evan’s arm.

Evan doesn’t look any less confused or mollified by the explanation. “Yeah, well we didn’t last week.”

They do win handily this week. Evan is back in the zone, but Hen still comes in clutch on a category dedicated to Bluey. She thanks them for a good night after they collect the usual winners’ gift certificate and beers, and then leaves them to the rest of their date.

Tommy orders them a third round at the bar and then closes them out. When he gets back to the table with their beers, Evan’s looking entirely too pensive.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks, sliding Evan his beer.

Evan’s nose scrunches, his brow furrows. He sighs and takes a gulp of beer and wipes unthinkingly at his upper lip. The philtrum, he thinks. Evan would correct him if he said out loud. They got that answer wrong last week.

“I know you’re cool with Hen and all,” he says eventually. “You guys are old friends, so you have your own language, but this, I guess— it’s just different than someone coming from Air Ops for a night out. You can joke about me being smart with them, but Hen, she knows me too. She’s in on the joke.”

“Evan. What the fuck are you talking about? What joke?”

“You try to pump my tires a little bit in front of your people, say I’m smart, that we win every week, and it’s sweet. Really. I’m just saying, Hen knows me better than that.” Evan doesn’t even seem like he’s mad. If anything, he sounds embarrassed.

“But you are smart,” Tommy says slowly. “And barring maybe two times, yeah, we usually win over teams twice our size. I’m just saying, even when I get to hold the pen and paper, I’m rarely the one coming up with the answers.”

Evan takes another long gulp of his beer. He sits with it for a second, and then reaches under the table to hold Tommy’s free hand resting on the bench seat.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, but it’s clear that he doesn’t want to fight it because he doesn’t believe it. That’s fine. If Tommy has anything to say about it, someday he will.

[ghosttotheparty]

part 1 // part 3 also on ao3

It seems to happen overnight.

King Steve and the Freak.

The students at school see them in the hallways, standing together and laughing, looking at each other with the stars in their eyes, and it doesn’t make any real sense. Steve with his pressed polos, tucked into his jeans, Eddie with his frizzy, overgrown curls and his metal chains and rings.

They talk. Exchange greetings in the hallways. And nobody knows when or how it happened.

They might be friends, but nobody says it. Like it might be a curse, a jinx. Like saying it out loud will change something that’s gone unspoken.

Steve snaps at Tommy Hagan when he refers to Eddie as a fucking freak. Eddie isn’t even around to hear it, but Steve looks angry in a way no one’s seen before, his cheeks red as he says, “I don’t give a fuck what you think he looks like, don’t fucking talk about him like that.” And it’s jarring, especially as Tommy H and Steve have been known best friends since sixth grade, and maybe because it’s so jarring, it works. Tommy H never talks badly about Eddie again (in front of Steve).

People see them talking in the parking lot before and after school, laughing and bantering before they part ways to go with their separate friend groups, all of whom stare and watch in confusion. None of them question it though, not when they just stare in response to the curious looks. The stares are almost scary, intense and daring. Firm What?s that deter anyone that wants to say something.

People see them at parties, disappearing behind doors to make deals, sitting in the kitchen and serving each other drinks before they go their separate ways.

Word spreads about them skipping detention together. Someone saw them leaning close together and writing on a piece of paper, laughing into their arms to keep quiet until Eddie noticed that the teacher had fallen asleep. Eddie had barely even hesitated before he got up to leave even though there was a little less than an hour left, and then he’d paused in the doorway, turning back to give Steve a look before Steve followed. And then people are concerned, because Eddie Munson is anything but a good influence.

But when Carol Perkins tries to talk to Steve about it, nothing hostile or anything, just a gentle question about if being friends with Munson is a good idea, Steve shuts her down with the same look he’s been giving everyone. But Carol is Carol, and she persists. She only stops when Steve says firmly, “You don’t know him, Carol. Just drop it.”

“I’m just saying, Steve, he is not a good influence—”

“And you guys are?”

And he’s met with a moment of silence as Tommy and Carol stare at him.

“Tommy gets through half his classes by paying other kids off for their homework and you’ve picked like three fights in the past week, Carol, don’t act like you’re some angel. Eddie’s just…” He shrugs, glancing away, across the cafeteria where Eddie is sitting with his legs up on the table even though he’s been scolded for it several times. “Eccentric. He’s harmless.”

“He’s a Satanist,” Tommy insists.

“I don’t think you know what Satanism is, Tommy.”

“I know what Satanism is—”

“Pass your history class by yourself and maybe I’ll give your word more credit, how ‘bout that?”

“Alright, asshole.”

Eddie graduates, and no one seems to see it coming except Steve, who goes to the ceremony. No one really questions it; underclassmen and juniors often go to graduations to support their friends, and Steve knows a few seniors this year. But then Steve is cheering louder than anyone when Edward Munson is called, and Eddie is beaming brighter than anyone’s ever seen, and as he crosses the stage he squints out into the crowd, smiling and smiling and smiling, and he waves. And it’s the most well-behaved he’s ever been, even as he begrudgingly shakes Principal Higgins’s hand and takes the diploma.

People stop talking about Steve and Eddie.

They still talk about Steve, of course, always the King. His parties, his hair. The shallow things. He doesn’t hang out as much with Tommy H and Carol anymore, but no one really knows why. Most people just assume Steve finally realized how shitty they are. And maybe he has.

Eddie doesn’t come up much anymore unless people are talking about where to get the best weed. People go to the mechanic that’s just outside town just to see him, to make deals while he’s on his lunch break or after he gets off work. (Which is funny just by itself: Eddie Munson with a job. Who would have thought?) But his reputation at school fades into someone that used to make shitty, loud jokes and talk shit about the popular crowd.

Until he shows up at Steve’s graduation. No one in Steve’s graduating class notices him until the end of the ceremony, when everyone is outside the theater the ceremony took place in, as everyone is taking pictures and laughing and smiling and celebrating, and Steve is just… waiting. He’s not talking to anyone, or taking pictures with anyone, and he and Tommy H seem to just ignore each other completely, but he doesn’t seem to be sulking or lonely. He’s leaning against the wall, holding his cap in his hands, eyes scanning the parking lot. Until a white van pulls up, a little close to the grass lawn outside the theater, and Eddie Munson steps out, his hair too long and loose and curly. He’s grinning as he looks around at everyone until his eyes catch on Steve, who’s beaming now.

And he’s running at him, and Eddie catches him in his arms, hugging him tightly as he spins him around, Steve’s graduation gown billowing in the air. Now people are looking, watching, seeing, some of the curious, some of them aghast, murmuring amongst themselves.

Is that… Eddie Munson?

Hugging Steve Harrington?

Are they friends?

Neither of them seems to notice everyone looking, laughing as they hug each other tightly, and when they part, Steve is beaming brightly at Eddie as Eddie touches his face, saying something quietly that no one can hear.

Steve nods excitedly, and Eddie takes his cap, bopping him on the head with it before they go to Eddie’s van. Steve strips the gown off, bunching it up in his hands and tossing it into the back as he climbs into the passenger seat. Eddie climbs into the driver’s seat and smacks Steve in the face with the cap, and Steve just laughs, glaring at him, snatching the cap and hitting him back before he tosses it in the back without looking. And they drive off.

Some people laugh because it’s so absurd. King Steve and the Freak. Most others just move on, too focussed on celebrating to care much.

That’s the last time anyone sees them or hears from them.

The Harringtons come back to Hawkins a few weeks later, and soon after, word spreads that Steve just left. Left Hawkins, left his parents, left his childhood home. He didn’t tell them where he went, just that he was safe. Not to worry. That he’ll be fine. He’ll be happy.

And slowly, across town, realization strikes each individual person that witnessed it happen: Steve and Eddie running away together. It explains the van, it explains the hug, the joy, the giddy excitement. And people talk about it.

King Steve and the Freak.

They ran away together.

And then

They skipped town.

They took off.

And then

They escaped.

Then the rumors aren’t as fun anymore. It’s not a fun bit of gossip or something to speculate about, but something to think about, to daydream about. What it would be like to leave Hawkins, to have no obligation to come back. That doesn’t happen in towns like this. People don’t just leave. People go to college. People come back. People get married to their high school sweetheart, and people have two and a half kids, and people get a dog or maybe a cat, and people stay here. That's what happens.

But Steve and Eddie left. That apparently wasn't the life for them. And it makes people wonder if it's the life for any of them. Some of them stay awake at night, looking up at their ceiling in the dark and wondering what's outside of Hawkins. What's in the big cities, what's in the seas. What isn't in the movies. Some of them look at the sky at night. Here in Hawkins, in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, every star glows brightly, like the universe is making up for the city lights they've never seen.

Some people are angry about it. How dare they leave? How dare they act like they’re better than Hawkins? Like this town isn’t enough for them?

Some don’t care. Hawkins is all they know. There’s no point in thinking about anything else, about dreaming about “escaping.”

And of course there are more rumors that spread alongside the runaway rumors. Why did they go together? Why did they hug like that? Why did Eddie touch his face like that? What are they doing?

And even as they all skirt around it, as they avoid certain words, because they would never want to taint the image of the King, they all know it.

They didn’t just run away together. They ran away together.

It angers some people even more. People who can’t think outside the limits of their own front lawn.

The rumors spread throughout town, just escaping the ears of Mr and Mrs Harrington (because nobody wants to anger them), through the high school to the middle school. King Steve and the Freak. They left together. And the rumors shift, mold like clay, altered by every mouth that touches them. They were holding hands. Eddie was touching his leg when they drove off. Steve kissed his cheek.

And the rumors find the ears of a young boy. A boy that sits alone in classes that his friends don’t share with him, fiddling with a pair of dice under his desk, hiding them so they don’t get confiscated, drawing in a notebook. A boy that tilts his head when he hears another boy’s voice say the words.

My brother said they ran away together.

Like… together, together?

I mean, he implied it. He said someone saw them holding hands.

What the fuck?

Followed by stifled laughter, because of course it’s the most absurd thing they’ve ever heard. But this boy, sitting in the back of the classroom, wearing his brother’s handed-down flannel and sketching his best friend’s eyes, looks out the window. At the sky.

The classroom he’s in is on the top floor of the main building, and he can see almost half of town from where he sits by the window. Just past town, there’s a road leading off into the world, and he wonders if that’s the road they took when they left. He wonders if the sun was setting when they left, if they followed it into the sky. He wonders if they held hands as they passed the LEAVING HAWKINS COME AGAIN SOON sign, if they kissed across the center console of the car. He wonders a lot of things.

He wonders if he could do it. Someday.

If he might leave the day he graduates, if he might get away from the children that call him fairy and fag, if he might escape the claustrophobic walls of the town, the square lawns and bullet-riddled tin cans, the brown and beige and grey. If he might get away from their voices. If he might escape too.

He sighs, listening to the boys’ laughter again. The sky is blue in between the grey clouds that are threatening rain over town. He follows the road with his eyes, follows it out of town, out of sight.

And he looks down at his desk, lifting a hand, and rolling the dice.

❧ buy me a coffee // check out my commissions ☙

[neverevan]

I'm kind of ready for Buck to come trough for Tommy now... I know he's just come out for the man in front of his entire family (bio and non bio) and that's huge but I really want to see some weak points in Tommy and Buck handling him as sweetly and maturely as Tommy has been doing with him. The man has literally run to him after god knows how many hours of fighting a fire still in his turnout because he knew it was important to Buck, that's just <3

yes YES please, I think it doesn't even have to be anything huge it could be somethig as simple as someone hitting a nerve.

like, imagine running into Sal Deluca at some LAFD event and I know Oliver said that we don't wanna do the homophobia line (and I agree) but what I would find more interesting is for him to be like... nice and normal about seeing Tommy and Buck together and maybe it's because he has someone in his family who's queer, whatever, but he'd be nothing but nice and friendly and Tommy's face would just turn absolutely sour; jaw tight, lips pursed, fists clenched... just so obviously tense about it.

because how come this dickbag, this foul being, just turned a corner? like it should make him happy, people change and grow and it's a good thing! and he isn't innocent one bit either, but maybe that's what it is, right?

because at the core Captain Gerrard's behaviour and Sal's behaviour kept Tommy in line, kept him choosing to hide himself day after day, because it wasn't safe to be himself, to be anything other than a bigoted masculine white guy would've run the risk of becoming ostracised from the place where he spends over half his life at.

and then Buck could pull him aside and cup his face into his hands gently and whisper to him reassuring little words and ground him in the present, where he is the most confident, coolest, sweetest and sexiest man Buck knows.

yeah, I just think it'd be neat... 🫠

[cherryskyies]

What your favorite slasher says about you

includes: rz michael myers, thomas hewitt. hannibal lecter

coming next: og michael myers, bo & vincent sinclair, jason voorhees, the grabber

Masterlist || Navigation || Ao3 || pt.2

RZ Michael Myers

Not to start off on a sexual note, but you’re heavy into size difference — both the security it brings and the idea of it being so easy for him to pick you up and manhandle you is like, the best thing ever for you guys.

I think a good amount of you rz michael myer fans are plus size, mainly because I myself am so I see the appeal of a man that is strong enough to lift you with ease, when the average man might have a struggle — even if they don’t, it’s hard to let go of the insecurity and fear that they will, whereas michael has flipped a damn car so no worries there.

You like the dominance, the fact that he could kill you with one hand, but he doesn’t. It makes you feel protected, even though he’s the one you should be protected from. 

It’s giving knife play and a choking kink. You’re into the idea of being marked by another, permanent scars left behind as a reminder of them and a hand large enough it covers your entire throat, other hand holding your wrists above your head. 

You prefer forced submission.

Something about being stalked everywhere you go is appealing

Probs an air or fire sign

Thomas Hewitt

Again with the size difference — you guys go crazy for a man that can throw you around like a sack of potatoes. 

Family is important to you, someone who goes to any length to protect and provide is something you never really had, so you find comfort in those who give what you wish you had.

I’m feeling like there is a breeding kink going on here, the idea of someone loving you so tenderly and selflessly sends you into overdrive — maybe you’re insecure yourself with your own looks, so having someone like Tommy makes you feel better — not because he is ugly by any means, but because he himself knows what it is like to think lesser of yourself for not being able to conform to society's norms of what is desirable. 

I feel like your morals clash with the average person. You wouldn’t be too against cannibalism; perhaps you wouldn’t mind trying it if it was consensual or maybe you would try it as a means of survival, much like the Hewitts. Either way, I don’t sense a lot of distaste on the subject of cannibals. 

Probs a water sign

Hannibal Lecter

You enjoy the finer things in life, maybe you’re an artist or musician of sorts – might be a slight alcoholic with a preference of wine or champagne.

Similar to Thomas Hewitt fans, you are not against cannibalism, you see it no differently than killing an animal for its meat, just less accepted by society. You’d probably help Hannibal with the designs he does on the dead bodies he doesn’t eat. 

Domestic life doesn’t seem like a bad thing to you. Having a loving husband who will stop at no means to keep you safe, Sunday dinners you share with friends and coworkers, the occasional ball or fancy dinner — it’s a dream, really.

Kids are hit or miss with you. Maybe you’d rather be the frequent babysitter or adopt, but you almost prefer your life to be child free so you can do your own thing with no other responsibility – maybe you were the child that “ruined” your parent’s love and do not wish the same thing for yourself, because much like you, a child does not deserve such a burden.   

When someone asks you “What is a trait you’d like in a partner?” possessive is a word you use often. You yearn to feel sought after, desired. You want to be worth something to someone, to be held close and whispered sweet nothings to. 

Last thing, but I feel like promises have often fallen through; people promise this or that and never go through with it, so you have some major trust issues on top of the obvious daddy issues and love for dilfs. 

Probs an earth sign