#truth or eat

[vanteguccir]

Truth or Eat | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N participates in the TRUTH OR EAT video from behind the camera.

Warning: None.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"What's the most romantic thing you've ever done?" Matt asked, taking his eyes off the open black notebook in front of him and focusing them on Chris, his hands playing with the green highlighter.

Chris let out a breathy laugh, looking beyond the camera, his blue eyes meeting Y/N's, who smiled, raising her eyebrows, awaiting her boyfriend's response.

"I think there are two most romantic things I've ever done, both obviously with Y/N, since she's the only girlfriend I've ever had. I know you only asked for one, but I can think of two with different spheres." Chris began, looking at Matt momentarily, who nodded.

"Hurry up Chris." Nick ordered with a smile on his face as he took Matt's notebook, already anticipating his brother's response. Being Y/N's best friend, he had inside information.

"The first was last year, when Y/N and I completed three years of dating and I gifted her a trip for both of us to Italy." Chris smiled big, his eyes shining as he counted while Nick and Matt looked at him with matching smiles, happy for their brother's happiness. "She always dreamed of visiting Italy, it being her favorite place in the world, and when the three years together came I thought this was the ideal way to celebrate. I really wanted to see her happy and achieving her dream."

"I remember that, it was the longest the three of us were apart from each other because you were there for seven days." Matt commented, nodding his head.

"Yes, I remember Chris planning the entire trip. We went to that travel agency with him and helped him choose the perfect package with the best hotel and best tours. It was like a honeymoon without a wedding." Nick continued Matt's reasoning.

"I was so nervous when I went to give her the envelope with the plane tickets, I don't know why, but I thought everything was going to go wrong." Chris said, rolling his eyes when Nick and Matt started laughing, commenting that they remembered all the times he asked if it was good enough or if they thought Y/N would like it.

The girl smiled big behind the camera, her eyes lit up with happiness as memories of the trip flashed through her mind.

"So I think that's one of the most romantic things I've done for her, and the other one I didn't even realize was that romantic until Y/N pointed it out to me." Chris began, gesturing with his hands, organizing the mess of tacos in front of him. "She has a horrible habit of tying only one bow on her sneaker, which makes the shoelaces come untied more easily. Whenever we're walking together, I'm the one who notices the untied sneaker first, so I always stop her, kneel down in just one knee, take her foot with the untied sneaker and place it on top of my other knee, and tie the shoelace for her-"

Chris stopped in his speech when he saw Nick and Matt making exaggerated expressions of surprise and "dying in love", laughing together, making him roll his eyes and look at his girlfriend in disbelief, who laughed quietly, sending him a wink, causing a blush to grow on his cheeks.

"May I continue?" The middle brother asked loudly, looking at Nick and Matt with a bored expression.

"Sorry." The two said in unison, wiping their eyes from the tears from their exaggerated laughter.

"And also when Y/N wears high heels on certain occasions, whenever we go out of the house together I don't let her buckle her heels, I kneel down on one knee and buckle them for her. This is kind of an act of service but that she finds super romantic, and I realized that it really is when I saw that no couple around us do it. There are many more romantic things that I have done for her, but if I were to say everything the video would last more than an hour. " Chris finished, smiling broadly and holding up a tumb to the camera, blowing an air kiss to his girlfriend, who pretended to take it with one hand and put it in her pocket.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Okay, next question, how long have you gone without showering?" Nick asked, glancing briefly at the question in the notebook before closing it with the highlighter in the middle, focusing his attention on Chris.

"Since almost four years ago I've been showering every day, Y/N rules!" Chris began, raising his arms in surrender. Nick let out a laugh as he looked at Y/N and saw her nodding quickly with her arms crossed.

Matt quickly looked at the girl when he saw Nick looking at her, laughing at her expression.

"Before I met my beautiful, perfect girlfriend, it was a weekend." Chris said, laughing as he mentioned his girlfriend in a joking tone.

"No, it was more than that. I know how long it was, let me answer." Matt jumped in, taking a sip of his soda when Nick told him to shut up, the sound of a low chuckle echoing faintly through the kitchen as Y/N tried to stop herself from laughing, watching the brothers bickering.

"I've already gone without showering from a Friday night until a Monday morning." Chris concluded, Nick muttering that he had already done the same. "Like, four days." He added.

"That example is less than four days, Chris." Nick commented while laughing, Matt following him.

"I'm a changed man, I don't do those things anymore." Chris said, crossing his arms and lifting his chin with a snobbish expression, increasing Nick and Matt's laughter.

"You men are so disgusting." Y/N whispered only for the three to hear, rolling her eyes.

Matt looked at her with an offended expression.

"Yeah guys, if I go a day without showering I'll sleep on the couch." Chris said looking at the camera as he opened the package of the next taco, putting an end to that discussion.

Nick passed the notebook back to Matt, starting the timer again so that Chris could go back to eating while Matt searched for the perfect question.

"The time is over!" The redhead announced, looking briefly at his phone screen while Matt closed the notebook, already with his question in mind.

"Okay, give me the inside scoop of the perfect Chris Sturniolo date night looks like?"

"What is this, Y/N who created my questions?" Chris asked after finishing chewing, letting out a laugh through his nose, his blue eyes looking briefly at his girlfriend only to see her with her arms raised in surrender as if she didn't know anything.

"Just answer the question Chris." Nick pressed, turning to face him.

"Can I give an example of a date I had with Y/N ​​and we always do it again because it was really good for us?" Chris asked, arranging the napkin on the table as he glanced briefly at his brothers, who nodded. "Okay, I guess first I have to establish here that for me, when it's a date, it's literally a whole date day. On my first date with Y/N, I picked her up with an Uber in the morning with a bouquet of flowers since I don't know how to drive and I didn't want to bother Matt, and we had brunch at a cafe attached to a bookstore, because when we were getting to know each other she said that she really liked reading books and drinking coffee. Boys, understand one fundamental thing, listen to everything your girl likes and has to say, it will help you a lot and contribute to your relationship." The boy said, pointing to the camera as he said the last part.

Y/N felt her body heat up with shyness and love as she remembered that day, holding herself back from going to Chris to hug him tightly and shower his face with kisses.

"Afterwards we went for a walk around the city while we talked and I took her to a place where they only have those teddy bear catching machines, you know?" He looked at his brothers receiving nods. "And we stayed there for a while, where I got her a teddy bear, she still sleeps with it to this day."

Chris informed the last part in a whisper as if it was a secret, ignoring his girlfriend who rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.

"Afterwards, as we were still satisfied from brunch, I took her to an amusement park close to where we were and we stayed there for hours, we even had dinner there at one of the hot dog stands, I remember I bought her some cotton candy later and I will never forget her happiness because of it." He counted with shining eyes, rolling his eyes at his brothers who made gestures of vomiting. "And finally, I took her to a park that had a lake with ducklings and we walked around there and fed them for a few hours, that's where we also had our first kiss." Nick and Matt made air-kissing gestures, making fun of Chris, who pushed their faces with his hands. "That was my perfect date."

The boy finished, smiling big and taking the taco in his hand, ready to finish eating and start to ask Nick questions.

"You two are so disgusting." Matt said in a joking tone, passing the notebook to Nick, knowing that Chris would sit there.

Y/N smiled behind the camera, her cheeks already hurting from how much she was doing it, her heart warming up while hearing Chris talk about them with so much love, feeling like she could fall in love with him all over again.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Extra - comments:

"omg Chris seems like a really great boyfriend!!"

"they are so pretty together."

"one day I want to have a partner who cares about me as much as Chris cares about Y/N."

"the fact that he took her TO ITALY just because he wanted to see her happy 😭"

"Chris, the last romantic man on earth."

"the way he talks about her 😫"

"get married already."

"petition for Y/N and Chris to make a video talking about all his romantic acts ✏️📄"

[pocket-cowbae]

my YouTube decided to buffer at a great moment...

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which one?”

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

“How do you even know about that?”

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

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

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

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

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

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

“You were Prom King.”

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

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

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

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

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

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

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

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

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

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

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

“Are you drunk?”

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

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

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

“We miss you too, Steve.”

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

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

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

“Munson?”

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

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

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

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t he die?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

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

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

“That was him?”

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

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

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

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

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

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

“Dude.”

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

“Well, Harrington?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

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

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

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

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

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“The what?”

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

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

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

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

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

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

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

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

“Steve!”

“You do!”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

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

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

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

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Robin has been similarly affected.

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

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

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

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

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

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve stares. 

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

“I mean, not really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thought I was fucking you.”

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

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

[agentc0rn]

Love it when there's cool™ folks with extensive historical knowledge of lore and ancient lineages who have gone through losses and sought questionable ways of achieving their goals + having indirect connection to their respective beings of worship

[nando161mando]

The real truth

[egophiliac]

Did. Did you see Ortho's Broomquet preview? The fact that his broomquet is mostly white like Kalim's, Rook's and Silver's and that we know by now that Idia's ideal dreamworld involved OG!Ortho being still alive and a student at Royal Sword Academy is killing me. Twst is throwing hints left and right that OG!Ortho was meant to be a light magic user heroic character just to tug further at our heartstrings with his death and IT'S WORKING. I'M IN SHAMBLES.

as much as I am rolling around on the ground waiting for more of Silver and Sebek's Excellent Adventure, I am also SO desperate to see the resolution of Idia's dreamworld and, fingers crossed, more of dream!OG!Ortho. and I don't know how it would be physically possible, but I would LOVE the Orthos to actually meet somehow! bonus points if there's some kind of very confusing confrontation!

but I do really like the three-way contrast between OG!Ortho, what Idia thinks OG!Ortho would have been like, and humanoid!Ortho. especially since Ortho's post-episode 6 arc is all about becoming independent and his own person! I want to see more of it! and I can't really put it into words very well, but, like, I would LOVE this to be the resolution where Idia finally manages to come to terms with OG!Ortho's death -- man heard "niichan" once and immediately ran down a billion flights of stairs to throw himself into Metaphorical Hell, he needs something big like this.

(if the September schedule comes out and there's still no more main story, I am going to be DESPONDENT) (I mean I will be understanding because production takes time, no one should be subjected to crunch to meet arbitrary deadlines, a good product that takes longer >>> a rushed product that is out sooner) (but I shall also be despondent)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Izutsumi character study

[hecksupremechips]

Akihiko becoming a cop is something that simply doesn’t happen in the coma route cuz Shinji would see that shit and be like Aki what the actual hell is wrong with you

[chiquilines]

Its been ages,,, i missed them

[dovewingkinnie]

haha yea those backrooms videos are scary but did you ever think about how cute the hazmat suit guys ar- 💥

[thursdaygirlmp3]

so when do i get the 2024 version of this

[saetoshi]

you don’t see chigiri when you step into your apartment.

it’s weird because he’s always there to greet you. it’s even weirder because the only thing that does let you know he’s in your apartment is the loud clang that comes from the kitchen.

there are a million possible scenarios running through your head as you rush to the kitchen. and somehow, seeing chigiri sitting on the floor, covered in flour, with a bowl covering his head wasn’t one of them.

you step closer to him, gently lifting the bowl off his head, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you notice he’s fine. chigiri’s eyes snap to yours.

“hyo,” you breathe out, “what’s up with all the flour?”

he avers his gaze to the ground, fidgeting with the little frills of his apron. a small, teasing smile tugs at your lips when you realize he’s wearing the frilly apron you gave him as a gag gift.

he mutters something unintelligible.

“what’d you say, hyo?” you hum curiously, holding your hand out to help him up.

he shyly grabs your hand and stands up, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. he points at the open book on the counter, “i said i was baking.”

he looks back at the flour on the floor, his hands nervously wringing the apron. he turns back to you when you start dusting him off.

“how’d you end up on the floor, anyway?” you gingerly dust his face.

he stares at you, embarrassment swimming in his eyes. “i tripped.”

you try—you really, really try to hold back the laughter bubbling in your chest. your lips press into a fine line. (it doesn’t do a very good job of hiding the way the corners of your lips unwillingly quirk up.)

“don’t laugh!” he cries, “i only ever tried baking because of you!”

you dramatically gasp, “what?”

“yeah!” he pouts, pointing at the baking cookbook on the counter, “if you hadn’t given me that this never would’ve happened.”

a huff of laughter slips past your lips. your shoulders start shaking with laughter when you recall his initial reaction to your other gag gift. ‘if the whole football thing never works out’, you’d joked while giving him the cookbook and the apron.

(you never thought he’d actually use them, but here he is, covered in flour and glaring at the book.)

“it’s not funny!” he whines, “the bowl hit my head really hard.”

you laugh harder, wiping tears off your eyes.

“stop laughing!” a smile blooms on his lips, “i could be seriously injured right now!”

“oh, please, you’ll be fine,” you grin, “the only thing that’s injured is your dignity.”

he huffs, puffing his cheeks out, “whatever.”

you brush away some leftover flour from his cheek before placing a quick peck against it. “i’m surprised you actually gave baking a try.”

“i wanted to bake some cookies for you,” he pouts. the tips of his ears turn red in embarrassment when you coo at him.

“chigiri hyoma,” you squish his cheeks, “you are adorable.”

he gently removes your hands from his face, lacing his fingers through yours. “this is like the fourth time i messed up the cookies.”

your brows raise in surprise. “how long have you been baking for?”

he scrunches up his nose, “i don’t know.”

your jaw drops, “what happened to the first three batches?”

“i burnt the first one,” he rubs the back of his neck, “the second one was pretty much raw.”

his face flushes, “and i added salt instead of sugar to the third one.”

you stare at him. he stares back.

“you need a break.” you look him up and down, “and a shower.”

“what i need is to get better,” he grumbles when you turn him around to untie his apron.

“you can get better after you clean yourself up,” you push him towards your bathroom.

“but the flour–”

“i’ll clean it up,” you usher him down the hall.

he turns his head to look at you, frowning, “the cookies–”

“hyoma.” you cut him off, “we can make more cookies after you get this flour off of you.”

he pouts, “promise?”

“i promise,” you smile, “besides, you’ll need to get better at baking if you want to have a backup plan in case the whole football thing fails.”

he laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “wouldn’t that be nice?”

“we could even open up a bakery,” you grin, gently pushing him into the bathroom. “but, seriously, just take a shower. i hate seeing your hair covered in flour.”

“fine.” he rolls his eyes, “just don’t expect me to come out soon. i need to make sure i remove all the flour from my hair.”

true to his word, he takes at least an hour to come back out, his skin glowy.

“i’m ready to start working on the backup plan now.” he hums. “we’re gonna bake the tastiest cookies.”

(they’re not.)

(you really, truly, desperately hope the football thing never fails.)

[cosmoweirdkid]

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: Two panels from Dungeon Meshi. The first scows Senshi clutching his face as tears start to spill out of his eyes, saying, "I've always... always wanted to have this soup one more time." He's not wearing his helmet in this panel, so his face is unusually visible, detailed and vulnerable. The second panel shows himself as a youngster, surrounded by his old mining team, all smiling at each other, one of them rubbing Senshi's head. Modern-day Senshi continues, "Thank you. All of you. Thank you." End ID.]

Holy shit. I anticipated some tragic backstory from the "I must feed the young ones" panels, but what I'd guessed was that Senshi might have become so devoted to cooking and eating literally whatever because he'd previously survived a famine and had seen children starve to death. I did not expect him to have been the child who was the sole survivor of a doomed travel party, one of whom was determined to feed Senshi first because he was the youngest, and that Senshi has lived with the fear of having inadvertently committed cannibalism by eating stew that he'd never quite known the contents of. I'm happy for him that Laios deduced and confirmed for him that it was griffin meat, that he was able to taste the meal that saved his life once more and remember the friends he lost. Seriously, I'm crying, and also earnestly relieved that while his backstory is pretty dark, it's not the type of fucked up I'd been preparing myself mentally for.

[zannolin]

no 'cause tony and ziva both going to somalia on separate suicide missions but finding each other instead. surviving instead. reuniting and continuing to live afterwards. like what the hell. the look on ziva's face when tony said he thought she was dead and it completely recontextualized "couldn't live without you, i guess." after everything, everything, they still have each other's backs. he was ready to die avenging her and she was ready to die trying to save him and actually i'm screaming crying throwing up what the hell is wrong with this show why would it do this to me.

[puppyeared]

Doodles from stream