#PB HAS NO FUCKING EARS
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TOGETHER, THEN
#THEY MAKE ME SO CRAZY#bubbline#marceline the vampire queen#princess bubblegum#bonnibel bubblegum#fionna and cake#fionna and cake spoilers#PB HAS NO FUCKING EARS#THEY ARE SO INSANE AND STUPID AND IN LOVE AND REPRESSED AND IN DENIAL#this is the funniest version of them to ever exist#floating-arties
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6.5: baby 》 series m.list
note: oh my gawd ,, my friends !!! i’m so sorry for the wait! i was in my finals szn & tryna figure things out w my courses for my next sem … meanwhile ,, this entire ch has been brewing and consuming my mind like crazy! hope u guys enj ,, pls pls pls lmk what u guys think !!! i’m so glad i can finally push this ch out so lets fcking tawk abt it 😫
warnings: making out, mini fingering moment, raw sex, grinding, thigh humping ? ass slapping, pussy eating, 69, doggy style, cum shots & filming / sex tape vibes……… dirty talk / name calling <3 lol !!!
taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!
🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main
fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @ellesalazar @bloopkook
//
Jungkook was afraid of this.
From the moment he first made you laugh—oh, he knew he was fucked. Something inside him twisted and turned until his mind found ease from your very touch. Then, suddenly and all at once, every fiber in his body surrendered. Though he didn’t do the best job, he still tried. He tried his best to resist you and the feelings his heart felt. As his heart found rest with yours—it was then he realized that it was no use.
He was addicted to you.
It’s like he’s a child all over again, tasting his favourite chocolate bar for the first time. It’s like he’s a timid high schooler trying weed and getting so high, that he’s already making plans to do this again tomorrow. Or, it’s like he’s a man falling in love for the first time.
For real.
No bullshit, just the plain and boring truth. No, he wasn’t only addicted to you… Jungkook is falling in love with—
“Cute room.” You step into his room and shut the door behind you. The room is dim, only lit with his warm lamp light and a few candles placed around. It looked romantic and for some reason, it did not scare you. If anything, it entices you.
He was so thoughtful.
Before you can look around any further, you feel Jungkook’s body embrace yours. He wraps himself around you, holding you tight by your waist and digging his face into the crook of your neck. He kisses you behind your ear, causing you to giggle from the ticklish feeling. At this moment, you take in the scent of his freshly washed hair.
Is it odd to say this has to be one of your favourite scents? You’ve grown to like it. If anything, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed when you see him and his hair isn’t a little damp. Something about him being freshly showered makes your heart race. His damp hair is a symbol of his priorities… And that priority is you. Not to mention, wet hair has got to be the most romantic look any boy could have… You’ve always told yourself that as a child. Now, here you are: standing in a room with a damp-haired boy clinging to you.
Nothing makes you happier than this.
“I think Yuna saw me—mmfphh,” your words are interrupted by Jungkook’s lips. He greets you with a peck before continuing to kiss you like it’s his last dying wish.
His hands find their way to your hair, cupping your jaw as you kiss him back. Your lips sync together as if it’s been a lifetime since you two last did this.
Only it wasn’t—it hasn’t been.
It feels like it though.
“Miss me much?” you ask, breaking away from the intense kiss. He leans his forehead against yours, wasting no time and letting his hands travel inside your shirt. You feel his fingers trace over your bra, quickly finding the clasp and undoing it with his one hand.
Impressive, you must admit.
Should you be mad at that?
Jungkook smirks, “fuck around and find out.”
A small laugh escapes your lips as you raise your arms. He lifts your shirt over your head, leaving your top exposed. Your bra is barely hanging on and Jungkook can’t keep his eyes off your breasts.
“How about a hi first?”
“Hi ___,” he obliges. Then, he taps his fingers together, bringing them close to his lips. Like a menace, he grins. “Well, well, well… What do we have here?”
Playfully, you roll your eyes at him and respond by taking the bra off yourself. You fling it at his face, just enough for it to land perfectly on top of his hair. One cup covers his face and he takes a breath in.
“Smells like you.”
“Smells like my boob sweat, you pervert.”
He takes the bra off from his face and licks his lips at the sight of your bare chest. “I can keep it in my pants… You on the other hand… A few nights ago? Drunk? You were coming on to me. Hard.”
You huff. “I was drunk.”
“You also said you’d hold my hand… Without arguing with me.”
“What? That doesn’t count. I was drunk.” Your words come out fast. It almost sounds defensive and harsh. “Jungkook, I was drunk.”
“Oh, I know.” He shrugs, taking the high road. “No need to be so uptight about it. It’s okay to hold hands, you know? The same way it’s okay to be obsessed with me, baby… This is a safe space.”
The audacity! More than that, you wince at the pet name. “Who the fuck is baby?”
Jungkook ignores your question and takes a step closer to you. As he does so, he takes his shirt off. He then tosses his shirt to the side of his room where his laundry hamper is. As you turn your attention back to him, your eyes fall on his pelvis area as he begins to undo his pants. Then, he pauses when he notices your gaze.
“Do it for me.”
You raise a brow.
“Pardon?”
“Take my pants off,” he points at the floor. “Get on your knees and take my pants off.”
For a split second, you hesitate. Earlier tonight, as you made your way over, you thought about what kind of mood he must’ve been in. You’ve seen Jungkook happy, irritated, tired, and even hangry… But horny in a needy and demanding way? Boarder-line desperate? Never. His doe eyes and goofy attitude can’t fool you… You’ve wondered about this.
You’ve waited for this side of him.
Perhaps it was your curiosity that answered for you because, without breaking eye contact, you fell to your knees. Jungkook’s gaze lowers as you bring your hands to his crotch. You palm him, feeling his cock and gulping at how hard it already was. Faintly, you hear him snicker at your submissiveness.
He likes this.
Slowly, you undo his pants and tug them down. In his Calvins, his raging boner greets you. Just as you slip your thumbs in between the fabric to pull them down, Jungkook grabs your wrists and pulls you to stand up. You follow his lead, confused.
“I thought I was going to—”
Jungkook undoes your cargo pants buttons and tugs them down. He gives you no warning as he licks his thumb and slips his hand inside your panties. You feel his wet thumb rubbing your clit. Your breath hitches as he draws circles and then adds another finger into the mix. He deepens his rubbing, slowly but surely dragging his fingers around your folds. Jungkook then shifts his hand placement, quickly inserting a finger inside of you. The shock sends shivers down your spine and completely takes your focus. He adds another finger and it earns a lewd moan from you.
“Ooh my god—”
Then, he stops.
He takes his fingers out and examines the wetness. Your eyebrows furrow together, completely unsure of the pace he’s going at. How long would this last? Why couldn’t he just continue?
“Sorry, were you enjoying that?” Jungkook asks innocently.
It’s official: you hate him.
Dumbfounded, you shoot him a glare. “Maybe I was. Who knows? I wasn’t finished.”
Jungkook exchanges with laughter. “Finished? Five minutes in? Pookie, you give me way too much credit.”
You stick your tongue out at him, annoyed at how cocky he is. Truth be told, this suited him. The nasty comments and the edging… It feels like this should’ve happened before. It’s hard to explain but he just looks so comfortable with control. In a more unexplainable way—you can’t help but feel comfortable with it.
“Come on,” he nods towards the bed. “If you wanna finish, you should do it sitting on my face.”
His words make your tummy flip. Was he serious? The texts he sent prior to this.. You were so sure it was all talk. The most you expected was a quickie and a few nasty exchanges… But this? You don’t know what to think.
Jungkook lays on his bed first, gesturing you to follow.
“Are you serious?”
With a flat tone, he answers: “Why would I joke about this?”
To be completely honest, he was a little offended you weren’t taking him seriously. Of course, he’s serious about eating you out. This was no joke to him.
Crossing your arms, you look at him in disbelief. “You want to do everything you texted me? Jungkook, there are people downstairs. Our friends are downstairs and—”
“I know,” he groans. “That’s why you need to shut the fuck up and sit on my face already. The longer we take, the more they will wonder where you are. Didn’t you say Yuna saw you come up here?”
“Y-yeah,” you recall. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”
He hits his bed with his fist like a child. “Why do you always deprive me?”
You gasp at his dramatic question. “Deprive you? It’s just my body, Jungkook. Do you crave pussy this bad?”
Tilting his head, he looks at you softly. “You,” he breathes. “I crave you.”
A silence falls between you two, followed by a heavy sigh.
“Look, I’m never going to make you do things with me if you don’t want to. I’m only demanding tonight because I just—I really need you right now. If you want to go downstairs and find Yuna, go ahead. We can do this another time… I just thought you missed me just as much as I missed you.”
“Gaslighter.”
He chuckles, attempting to hide the smile on his face as you get on the bed. Moving closer to him, he watches your hands roam from his abdomen to his jaw. Placing chante kisses on him, he stutters his words. “I’m s-serious. It’s fine. It’s just pussy.”
“But it’s my pussy.”
“True,” Jungkook agrees, leaning back and watching you place yourself on his thigh. “So fucking true, pookie.”
You lean in to kiss him. His lips chase yours when you pull away, only to grind your hips. He feels your wet pussy on his thigh and he feels like he could choke on air. It’s torture watching you throw your head back at the sensation. You can’t help but embrace the feeling of relief.
“You’re not finishing on my thigh,” he mutters, placing his hands on your waist. He lifts you just enough for you to get off. Laughing, he squiggles down the bed so you have more space. Before you know it, you’re making yourself comfortable on his face. As you straddle yourself on, you make a confession.
“W-wait, I’m scared! I don’t want to suffocate you—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Jungkook snaps, unable to watch his tone. “This is literally all I’ve ever wanted so you need to shut the fuck up and let me have this.”
“Okay, okay,” you snicker lightly, as you sink into his face. “But seriously! I don’t want to crush—“
You don’t even finish your sentence. You’re cut off by the feeling of Jungkook’s hot breath against your pussy. Then, you feel his nose against your clit and the texture of his tongue brush against your folds. The feeling shocks you, causing you to lift yourself out of reflex. Just as quickly, Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you to stay.
“J-Jungkook, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. You can and you will, got it?” he hisses. “Hold the fucking headboard if you need to. You aren’t going anywhere until your cum is on my tongue.”
You do as he says.
You lean forward, grabbing a hold of his headboard for support.
Just as those thoughts immerse your mind, you feel him dragging his tongue across your folds. It begins slow and soft. It feels like kitten licks and if the word cute was a feeling… This was it. Then, he flicks his tongue and it’s everything but cute from here on out. You want to jolt, but you keep what Jungkook said to you in mind. Besides, there is no place in the world you would rather be at than here. Jungkook eats you out like he’s a starved man. He doesn’t miss an inch of your pussy and tightens his grip around your thighs each time your body twitches.
Biting your bottom lip, you hold in your moan.
He feels so good. His tongue against your wet pussy feels so fucking good—it’s almost comical how you were so hesitant to do this. Soon enough, you let go of the headboard and search for his hands. Like second nature, you and Jungkook intertwine your fingers together and finally, you close your eyes and give in.
You can have this.
You can have him.
“Y-you feel so good,” you confess shyly. “You make me feel so good.”
Jungkook smiles against your pussy as you begin to roll your hips against his face. He knew it would take some time, but you’d eventually come around. No pun intended.
“C-close,” you utter in between heavy exhales. “Jungkook—I’m close! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”
You hold his hand tighter and push your weight on him harder. You feel him quicken the pace as he licks you and—holy shit.
Are those stars?
You cum.
Messy, wet, and hard.
Jungkook moans against your pussy, taking a moment to bite your inner thigh. Your legs practically shake, causing you to completely rest your weight on his face. After a few moments, you gather whatever energy you have left and shift your position. You turn your body around and line yourself with his cock. Jungkook stretches his neck out to figure out what you’re doing. Before he can comment, your lips are already placing kisses on his dick. Your fingers dig into his Calvins and pull them off.
“W-what are you doing?” He asks, voice shaking from anticipation. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what you were doing—he just couldn’t believe it. He’s so fucking lucky.
“34 plus 35! Do the math,” you tease. “Keep it up, okay?”
Jungkook laughs, pinching your ass in response. “Keep up with me then.”
“Is that a challenge?”
He rubs the spot he pinched your ass and shakes his head. “I already have one point… Doubt you’re gonna catch up.”
“You could nut twice,” you suggest. Then you turn your head and shake your ass in his face. “For me? So we’re even.”
Jungkook bites his lips. “Then it wouldn’t be a completion.”
“I hate losing.”
“So do I.” Jungkook then wastes no time. He digs himself in you again, flicking his tongue at all the right times and places.
You groan, hating how much you love this. You try to focus. After pumping him a few times, you stuff his cock in your mouth. Moaning from how thick he is, you suck him off. Your cheeks begin to feel a little sore after a few minutes, but by then his dick is up. He’s as hard as can be and you can even feel his veins come out more and more. Every time you pull his cock out, you make sure to be as loud as you can. The pop sound makes Jungkook’s blood rush to his dick and the way you suck him so sloppy and hard only reminds him of the time you did this in his car. That night, Jungkook had never felt more attracted to you.
Your jealousy had consumed his every thought for days after.
Just like that, Jungkook’s stomach twitches. He feels a rush and it goes straight from his dick and out.
Like a loser, Jungkook cums and whimpers loudly.
“F-fuck yes. Holy shit, ___.. Just like that… Mhmm,” his breath hitches. “Fuck!”
Lips pressed against his dick, you let his cum spill on your face. Mostly, it hits your nose bridge and your upper lip. You shift off of Jungkook and kneel in front of him. He gulps, watching you with longing eyes. You stick your tongue out, bring your fingers to where his cum landed and taste it. You lick your lips and swallow with a cute moan.
“Yummy.”
He hisses, and immediately takes you by the waist. You giggle, unable to stop it from becoming a laugh. “Did that turn you on, pookie?”
Jungkook glares at you, swiping a bit of his cum with his thumb. Without warning, he then shoves his thumb into your mouth. As you suck, he cups the rest of his hand around your jaw and ravishes at your beauty.
A layer of sweat makes you shine, and the strands of your hair on your forehead never made you look so beautiful to him before. Your lips are perfect—puffy and tainted with his cum. Your eyes—god, your eyes… They’re smiling at him and he swears he has never felt his heart flutter like this ever.
As you sit on top of his dick, you roll your hips against it. When you do this, both of you watch it happen. You lean back, planting your hands on each side of his legs. Jungkook watches as your folds drag and split open against his cock. You can’t help but let out hitched breathes as you take in the feeling of his member. How his veins feel against you. How his soft skin feels as you soak it with your wetness.. All of it.
All of him.
“You like that, hmm? You like grinding on my cock with your pussy all wet?” He pries, turning up his dirty talk. “Come on, baby… You know how I like it, right? Why don’t you be a good girl and put it in? Sink into it like the little cockslut you are… For me?”
You moan, hissing his name. “Jungkook, shut the fuck up. Just enjoy this.”
As punishment, you rub yourself on him harder. Each roll of your hips has more pressure and his dick feels like it’s going to explore. He watches, hating you more and more as his head turns red. You hump his cock, moaning at the sensation.
“Holy shit,” Jungkook whines. “I’m not gonna last even if you ride me.”
“Loser.”
He chuckles, too lazy to put up a fight. “Let’s go doggy, please.”
You think about it. “Beg for it.”
“Very funny.” Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He tosses you over and gets on his knees. You arch your back and get taken aback when Jungkook swiftly places a pillow under your stomach. You turn back to give him a confused look.
“You might cramp.”
Huffing, you bite back. “I won’t cramp. You’re gonna nut before I cramp.”
He rolls his eyes at you and tells you to shut up. You bite your bottom lip, even more excited and eager to feel him. Doggy style isn’t your favourite… But for some reason, it feels hot. Doing this with Jungkook makes your mind spin and you aren’t sure if your playful remarks are masking how nervous you are. Underneath your teasing, you have no idea how you’re doing or saying any of these things. How are you even doing this with him right now? It’s fucking wild.
“Gonna put it in now,” Jungkook’s voice sounds a little parched at this point. “If you cream my dick, can I film it?”
His question catches you by surprise.
“Your face wouldn’t be in it… And y-you don’t even have to say yes. I just… I miss you sometimes and I think about fucking you a lot so a video would be—”
“I trust you,” you say, flipping to face him. “Honestly? I’ll film a bit of it. Bet it’ll get you off in the future.” Then, you reach over his nightstand and swipe on his phone to the camera icon. You hold it and press record. Jungkook smirks and you zoom into his face.
“Cute,” you laugh.
Again, Jungkook rolls his eyes but loves every moment of this. You go back on all fours and hold the camera out. It captures half of your face, a bit of your boobs, and your ass. Jungkook places himself at your rear. You watch from the screen as Jungkook spits on his dick before he pushes himself inside you. He thrusts a few times before you let out a moan.
You bite your lip for the camera and let a giggle escape in between Jungkook’s thrusts. His breathing gets heavy as he picks up the pace and fucks you harder.
“J-Jungkook,” you whimper.
“Louder,” he commands as he fucks you. You close your eyes, taking in how good he feels inside you. He’s throbbing. He’s so fucking big.
“Oh my god, Jungkook! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder! Please, please, please!”
“Say my name,” Jungkook growls. “Say it louder.”
“Fuck me,” you ignore his request. “You’re so big. I’m so fucking lucky. I love it. I love your cock so much!”
He slaps your ass.
“Say my fucking name.” Jungkook pushes himself deeper into you, taking his time doing so. You hate how slow it feels now. “Whose making you feel this way? You’re so wet taking my cock in. Don’t be a bad girl… Are you a bad girl?”
“N-no,” you cry, feeling each thrust intensify.
“What are you then? My little slut? My fucking cock hungry slut? You won’t even say my name… You’re just a dirty bad girl. Fucking disrespectful at this point.”
“No, I’m not!” you feel tears begin to jerk in. “I love your cock too much to disrespect it—I,” you catch your breath, “I’m not a dirty bad girl!”
“What are you then? Because if you were a good girl, you’d say my fucking name… Say it. Be a good girl and say whose fucking cock you’re going to cream.”
“J-Jungkook!”
“Louder.” He pauses, leaving his cock to twitch inside you.
“Please… Fuck me so good I cream your cock…”
“No. My name. Say my fucking name—”
“Oh my god, Jungkook!”
He smirks.
Jungkook loves this so much. It does more than feed his ego—it ignites it.
He loves the way you say his name. He loves the way you call for him and how soft your tone gets when the sentence gets to his name. He absolutely fucking loves it.
“Yes, yes, yes!” you sob as he continues to fuck you. He fucks you rough, sloppy, and messy. You feel his dick slip in and out so easily that the friction is pure pleasure.
“Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook,” you chant. “I’m not a good girl—I’m just…”
“You’re what?”
“I’m your girl,” you exhale. “R-right?”
Jungkook loses it.
He fucking loses his mind.
Hastly, he leans over and grabs your tits. He fucks himself into you more and more, while biting your ear and kissing your neck. You moan and whimper, watching how hot it all looks on camera. Jungkook then rides his orgasm, not leaving you behind. He takes his phone from your hands and begins to film himself fucking you. The camera captures his dick going in and out of your pussy. How your ass bounces each time it hits his pelvis. It captures his breathy moans and his hushed, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“J-Jungkook—I’m gonna cum! Oh my god, oh my god.”
And you do.
You cream his dick. As he pulls in and out of you, the camera catches your creamy release on his dick.
It doesn’t take much after that. He isn’t sure if it’s just the heat of the moment or the fact that your brain is all fucked out by now—it doesn’t matter. The words that escaped your lips were enough. Jungkook cums hard and loud. He groans, hissing as he spills himself. You gasp when you feel his cock pull out of you harshly. Jungkook slips his one hand under you and flips you on your back. As you lay there, you watch as he pumps himself. He then aims his squirts of cum at your tits, and films as they land over your nipples. His breath is shakey from the relief and tiresome act and yours is the same. Except, you can’t help but let out a lewd giggle.
Holy fuck, this was such a workout.
Like earlier, you take your finger and swipe some of his cum off your breast. Bringing it to your lips, you lick it and smile sweetly at him. He chuckles as he films it and you laugh. Really, you laugh for real. Then he laughs and offers you high-5.
You laugh even harder, especially as you recall this being your reward. Even though it’s childish, you accept his gesture and feel special. Slamming your hand onto his, you lock them together and tug him towards you. He ends the recording just before he collapses on you.
After all that, finally, you two share a kiss.
A deep, soft, and much-needed kiss.
The addiction to you was no different than an adrenaline junkie getting ready to jump off a cliff. No, there was no turning back.
Your lips were addictive. The sweetness of everything your body would give him—it was like a fucking reward. Every saliva exchange, every drip from your pussy, to every tear shed while he digs himself deeper and deeper into you… He wants them all.
As sick as it sounds, he’d lick it all up just to have you in him even more. Just to be close to you. Just to be closer.
Every inch of you, he wants to devour.
Like a starved man, he’d fall to his knees and beg for an ounce of kindness. A chance to satisfy you—a simple kiss, deepened by the second. Hands intertwined as you spread your legs for him as he places himself in between.
As he leans his forehead against yours, he sneaks in a few pecks. “I can’t believe we have a sex tape.”
You roll your eyes. “Perv.”
“You consented,” he sings happily. “Do you want me to delete it?”
You shake your head as he makes himself comfortable. “No… Send it to me later though. I miss you sometimes too.”
A hearty chuckle escapes his lips as he snuggles into your embrace. You wrap your arms around him. Jungkook digs his face into his favourite spot—aside from your pussy—the cook of your neck.
Sometimes.
You miss him sometimes?
That’s a funny way of saying always.
The muffled sound of music blasting downstairs and people chatting becomes evident. Yet, you two stay silent. Laying together, fingers and legs intertwined. Naked.
When was it ever this easy? Why did this feel so right? Being with Jungkook has never been difficult—but when was it like this? When did things change? The sudden realization of the words you said while you two were intimate hit you. Were you really his girl? Did you want to be? Would he accept you if you asked?
Not only that but—when did you… When has it…
When did this begin?
These feelings.
There’s a tightness in your chest you can’t explain. Something that has been around for a while now. Long enough that you don’t remember when it first occurred and began to glow whenever he was around. What the fuck is up with that?
As he fucked you tonight, that’s all you felt. Your heart was glowing. The closeness with him—regardless of how nasty—it was so special. It felt so good and like nothing you’ve ever felt. As you trace random things on his back with your nails, you hear him murmur, “mhmm… Yup. I love it when you do this, ___.”
It startles you.
When did you begin doing this? Being so intimate with him? Scratching his back, drawing hearts with your fingernails… When did this all happen? He says it like this isn’t the first time you’ve done it. Then, it gets hot. Suddenly, you notice how sweaty you two are and how it’s way too comfortable in his bed with him. You sit yourself up, causing him to follow.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Pun intended?”
Jungkook pinches your cheeks and presses a kiss on your nose. “Whatever you want.”
You shove him away and get up from his bed. At least, you attempt to.
Your legs feel shaky. He quickly holds you by the waist and catches your stumble. Looking up at him, you huff. “Look at what you did!”
“What?” he panics.
“Jungkook, I can’t fucking walk!” You begin to freak out. “How am I supposed to go downstairs and act normal? Yuna is gonna ask so many questions and—”
“Relax,” Jungkook sets you down on his bed. “I got you.”
You sit and pout as he heads to his bathroom. When he returns, he has a black shirt and pants on. He holds a damp towel and collects your clothes off the floor. Jungkook kneels in front of you and begins to pat wipe your sweaty skin. First, your forehead, neck, and then he uses a face towel to wipe his cum off your breast. Then, he continues to pat dry your arms and in between your legs.
Without exchanging words, he helps dress you. The entire time, he was careful and used a soft tone whenever he did speak. For the most part, he just looked at you lovingly. That look in his eyes… You know in your heart you will never forget.
When you’re all dressed, a good enough time has passed for you to recover. Not fully, but just enough. Jungkook helps you get up and you hiss at the initial soreness.
“Round two?”
You hit his chest and roll your eyes. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”
“Insanely hot?”
“Whatever you want.”
He isn’t sure what to do.
You laugh it off, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t know how. As you two look into each other's eyes, he feels his heart race.
He should just say it, right? It’s easy.
Spit it out.
___, do you want to go out with me?
Or should he do a whole confession?
___, we’ve been doing this for a while now… And I think I’ve grown an unhealthy attachment to you. I miss you when I’m not with you. When I’m with you, I never want the moment to end. Being close to you has to be my favourite part of living.
But when he opens his mouth to speak—
“Should we go downstairs? I need water.”
He blinks.
“Y-yeah,” Jungkook reaches for the door. Then, as he turns the door knob, he stops himself. “One more kiss, please.”
Without a fight, you tiptoe and kiss him. Smiling into the kiss, he leans more into it and gropes your ass. You hit his chest playfully, signaling him to pull away. With great sadness, he does so.
“I’ll go out first.”
Your words cut him deeper than a knife.
Right.
You two aren’t dating.
You two are just fucking—in secret, at that.
“Why can’t we leave together?” he asks, sounding a little desperate. “You said it yourself. You don’t really care if people know or not… I doubt anyone will even care.”
Shrugging, you nod. “Sure,” you answer him. “I’m not trying to hide us or anything… I just don’t really want to be questioned… But, considering I can’t really walk right now…”
He laughs, feeling like he saved himself from sadness.
“Can we hold hands?”
You give him a face. “Don’t push it.”
“But you said—”
“I was drunk!”
Jungkook laughs, as he opens the door. Stepping out together, he locks his bedroom door as you continue bantering. Pushing past everyone in the hall, he can’t help but feel a sense of relief.
It was a small thing. Leaving the room together and even suggesting to hold hands—it was a long shot but here he was.
With you.
Lingering fingertips and all.
As you two head down the stairs, you’re immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies. Jungkook leans into your ear and whispers, “ahh… See? We’re blending right in.”
He’s talking about smelling like sweaty sex.
You bring your hands to your face, covering yourself and the shyness that rushes to your cheeks. He laughs and you hit his chest for the nth time tonight.
“Why are you covering your face? It’s like I didn’t just see you naked. Like I didn’t fuck you—”
“Oh my god!” you cover his mouth and look around to see if anyone heard what he said so bluntly. “I know I said I don’t care if people knew but can you relax? Don’t be so proud you fucked me.”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” Jungkook says sincerely. “Do you have any idea how admired you are?”
“So I’m a prize?” you laugh. “What a joke.”
Jungkook gawks at you.
“Do you have any idea how hard I’d try to win you if this was the fucking hunger games? I’d die for you.”
You snort. “Did you even read the series—”
“No,” he snickers. “But you get what I mean, right?”
“Not really…” you trail, turning your head in an attempt to avoid eye contact. You aren’t too sure where this conversation was heading and perhaps you aren’t ready for whatever he has to say next. “Can we—”
“I won’t get all gushy and all because you’re going to get all self-conscious and then retort by saying I have post-sex feelings—but just know you’re it. The standard. A prize. Endgame.. All of it. You’re it.”
Too stunned to speak, your lips curve into a small smile. “Jungkook—”
“___!”
You and Jungkook turn your heads and see Yuna approaching with Taehyung. She smiles brightly, practically throwing herself at you. You catch her, hug her, and tilt your head in confusion as Taehyung whispers something in Jungkook’s ear.
Jungkook lowers his gaze at you, gulping as Taehyung finishes his exchange and steps away. Then, Taehyung offers you a short lived smile.
“Hey, ___. How are you?” Taehyung’s voice is calm and sweet… It’s so opposite from how suspicious he’s acting.
“Good…” you say with your eyebrow raised. “What’s going on?”
Yuna tugs on your arm. “Nothing!” She sneers at Taehyung and gives him a warning look. “Way to be discrete.”
“You said to follow your lead! You aren’t doing much so I—”
“You’re the worst partner in crime ever!” Yuna scolds him.
You shake your head at the two, feeling at home with their bickering. Taehyung and Yuna act like such a married couple most of the time they’re together—you were used to it at this point. In between their bickering, you glance at Jungkook who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.
For some reason, you can’t make out what the look on his face is. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t look sad either. He wasn’t angry… He looked… Eager? Worried? In agony?
“You okay?” you ask, moving away from Yuna and to Jungkook’s side. He slides his arms around your waist. You let him.
Pulling you close, his lips shape into a pout. You cup his cheeks and squish them together. “Jungkook?”
“Wanna go back upstairs?” he suggests, resting his face on the palm of your hands. “Wanna get out of here? I’m suddenly not in the mood.”
“To what? Party?”
“To be anywhere without you.”
“But I’m here.” You reason.
He shakes his head, insisting something else. “But not you’re here with me… You know?”
You do know.
“S-sure,” you agree even though a part of you feels hesitant. Not that you don’t want too.. More like you’re nervous and afraid of what it’ll lead to. More feelings? More sex? You don’t think you can go another round. “Where should we—”
“___ baby!”
Your head turns to your name being called by a familiar voice.
From the corner of your eyes, you see Taehyung and Yuna exchange disappointed looks. Just as you’re about to ask what’s going on, Seokjin and Eunwoo approach you.
“Eunwoo,” you greet warmly. You step away from Jungkook and hug him.
“You haven’t been answering my texts… Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” he whines like a child. You laugh lightly and tiptoe to ruffle his hair. Though it’s only been a few months, he hasn’t changed. He still acts like a lost puppy. “Jungkook, what’s up?”
Jungkook dabs Eunwoo up with low effort. You give him a confused look, wondering why he was acting all sulky all of the sudden. From what you recall, these two are friends. As Eunwoo greets Yuna and Taehyung, Seokjin greets you rather drunkenly. Then, he excuses himself to piss. Everyone rolls their eyes at his behaviour but let him do what he needs to.
“Can we talk?” Eunwoo asks bluntly. His question breaks the ice, but wins a wide-eyes from you all.
You tilt your head. “What about?”
“Us.”
Instantly, Jungkook feels like he’s being punched in the face. No, he wishes he was being punched in the face. Being punched in the face would be more enjoyable than standing here in between you and Eunwoo.
He has only tried a handful of times to ask and understand what happened between you and Eunwoo, but he never pressed it. Right now, he wishes he had. If he had, maybe he wouldn’t feel so threatened right now. But he didn’t and he does. Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying his best to mask his feelings.
Was there still something between you and Eunwoo? Were you still texting him? Is Eunwoo who you’re with when you’re not with him?
All these thoughts and self-doubt flood Jungkook’s mind.
It sinks and his insecurities make a home as you nod politely and follow Eunwoo away from the crowd. Away from him.
Not even a goodbye?
As you slip away, Jungkook sighs. How did you do that? He feels disappointed and hurt—offended even. How dare you pick someone else over him? Though no feelings between you two were expressed or exchanged in a way where commitment and exclusivity would be the trade-off—still, this wasn’t fair.
How could you walk away? Like it was easy? Like you weren’t just with him seconds ago?
It aches.
It hurts so bad that it even his anger is weak.
No matter how much he wants to—he can’t blame you.
He never asked you out.
“I like the way you look at her,” Yuna comforts Jungkook by patting his back.
“Huh?” Jungkook snaps out of his thoughts. “What do you mean? Look at who?”
Yuna nudges him and gives him a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me,’ look. Then, she explains herself. “I always knew you were nice. Taehyung talks about the shit you put up with and the things you do to please people… Like how you joined the team again after they begged you to even though you felt burnt out… How you always limit your drinking so you’re sober enough to walk ___ home. How you come over and take care of her when she’s piss drunk and probably gave you a hard time—”
Jungkook’s eyes get shifty. “How do you know about that—”
“Doesn’t matter. She didn’t tell me shit, though. She doesn’t know I know and we’re going to keep it that way.” Yuna pokes Jungkook’s chest.
He furrows his brows. “Why does everything have to be a secret when it comes to ___?”
Yuna doesn’t have an answer for him. Instead, she continues her little speech.
“You’re a nice guy… But to ___, you’re kind. It’s in your gaze. It’s in the way you always offer yourself to her. It’s in the way you’re her friend above all else—I’m so thankful you’re who you are when you’re with her. You look at her like she’s your entire world… I don’t know if you even know that—but that’s how you look at her. You look at her and it’s… It’s like she’s the only person in the world.”
Jungkook hates the words Yuna speaks. Partly because they’re all true and partly because he doesn’t know what to do after. Yuna squeezes his shoulders and he feels like he could cry.
“Can you tell her I’ll be in my room? Waiting for her?” Jungkook pleas.
Yuna nods and excuses herself to find you in the crowd. You’re throwing your head back, laughing at whatever Eunwoo whispered in your ear. When Yuna approaches you and passes the message, you find Jungkook’s eyes from across the room.
You smile at him and wave.
He stands still, not knowing what to do. Before you know it, you watch him pick up his feet and head back upstairs. He doesn’t look back.
Yuna did tell you he’d be in his room… So that’s probably where he’s headed. In your mind, you make a mental note to go upstairs and figure things out with Jungkook in ten minutes.
You’ll give Eunwoo ten more minutes... The rest of the night can be for Jungkook.
Upstairs, Jungkook sits on the edge of his messy bed. Knees to his chest, he thinks about how fucked up everything got in a matter of moments. Did it really just take one conversation with your ex to lose you as quickly as he got you? Is this the reality of being a fuckbuddy?
He hates it.
Jungkook clenches his fits, recalling the words Taehyung said to him.
“Eunwoo’s tryna get back together with ___… I don’t know why it’s so important to Yuna but she said she tried to talk him out of it. Yuna said to get ___ out of here? Again, I don’t know why… I thought Eunwoo was Yuna’s favourite for ___ but I’m guessing not anymore…”
It was comforting to know that Yuna was on Jungkook’s side… But did it matter if you weren’t? You’re downstairs, talking and probably making plans to get back together with your ex.
Meanwhile, Jungkook sits in his room and waits until his eyes betray him. They flutter shut, falling asleep to the faint sound of your laugh downstairs and to the hope of you fulfilling a promise you never made.
In the morning, Jungkook wakes up and cries. He cries out of frustration and hurt. His heart feels heavy, like it could collapse and be broken. He has never felt so betrayed before.
And it’s pathetic because even then—especially then—he still waits for you.
#bts fic#bts smut#jungkook smut#jk x yn#jk smut#jk angst#jk uni au#bts uni au#bts x yn#bts scenario#jungkook scenario
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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.
#gay bar au#steddie#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson#steve harrington#robin buckley#featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman#i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables#'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat#i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it#we stay billy bashing 💪#in this au the byers didn't move to california#jonathan still goes to school there tho#why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question#i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other#that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3
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Steddie Time Travel Fixit: Pt. 6
Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7
Steve wears the Hellfire shirt.
He wears it half tucked in to a pair of tight distressed jeans with black lace-up shitkicker boots, both of which Eddie knows Steve has never worn to school before because he would have fucking remembered.
His hair is just as stupidly teased as usual, but paired with the rest of him it looks a whole lot less preppy and a whole lot more like he should have a cigarette tucked behind his ear and a leather jacket over his shoulder.
And Eddie knows that he should be focused on whatever the hell is happening with the kids and Hopper and the fact that Steve apparently has war flashbacks involving D&D characters but all that mystery falls to the wayside when the former reigning jock king is walking around the hallways like a living breathing wet dream in a shirt Eddie created.
Eddie is but a man.
Distractible.
Fallible.
Horny.
Steve catches him staring from down the hall and gives him a lazy two finger salute, grinning with the kind of ease that comes from being attractive and knowing it.
It should be infuriating.
It is not.
“Is this a dream?” Gareth says, drawing even with Eddie. “This has to be a dream, right? No way is Steve fucking Harrington wearing a Hellfire shirt.”
“I don’t know about you,” Eddie says faintly, “but if this was my dream he wouldn’t be wearing anything at all.”
“Oh, gross.”
“Look at him,” Eddie insists. Ever since that time at Jeff’s last year when the band was all high and Eddie got a little too honest, they’ve all sort of ignored the fact that Eddie is gay. They don’t ask him about girls and he doesn’t talk to them about guys. But this is…a special circumstance.
And it’s fine. Because Eddie is not the only person looking. Everyone is looking—some with sneers or confusion but most with envy or probably equal amounts of the lust that Eddie is currently trying to subdue. Even the straightest guy in the world has to admit that Steve is—
“Yeah,” Gareth says. “I mean no, still gross because it’s Harrington, but yeah I can see how—no. Never mind. I’m going to class.” Gareth pauses. “Wait. Do you think he’s going to sit with us at lunch?”
He sits with them at lunch.
Eddie more or less sleepwalks through his morning classes and leaves History before the bell so he can get to the lunchroom first and he does not save Steve a seat. He has no expectations when he enters the cafeteria. No hopes related to the company he’ll keep while consuming his soggy PB&J. He just has a jacket that ends up on the seat next to him and when Jeff tries to move it he maybe glares at him a little.
When Steve moves the jacket so he can sit down, Eddie does not glare.
“Fucking figures,” Jeff mutters.
Eddie is never going to live this down and he doesn’t even care.
“Nice shirt, big boy,” he says, because apparently Eddie’s mouth is just saying things.
Steve stills. For a moment, Eddie is reminded of the night before–of terror and gasped breathing. But then, just as quickly, he’s grinning at Eddie like some sort of sunshine creature, like joy incarnate, plucking at the tight fabric straining across his chest.
“I dunno, I don’t think I’m particularly big, it’s not my fault you gave me such a small size.”
“Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” Eddie retorts.“Everyone who signed up at the beginning of the year got one custom made,” he gestures to the guys as proof before drumming his fingers against Steve’s shoulder. “This’s one of mine and the most exercise I get is hauling amps and running from cops.”
Steve reaches over to wrap his hand around Eddie’s bicep and it’s Eddie’s turn to go still under the heat of his palm and the weight of his attention. Steve meets his eyes for a fleeting second before they flick down to his own fingers. Steve squeezes.
“You seem plenty fit to me.”
“Amps,” Eddie repeats. It’s a little breathless. It’s fine.
“Jesus christ,” Jeff mutters.
Steve’s hand is still on his arm when nearly half the basketball team approaches, detouring to stop on their way to their standard table.
He wouldn’t say that a hush falls over the cafeteria but there are certainly a lot of eyes suddenly on their table. And not much talking.
“What the fuck, Harrington,” one of them––Eddie doesn’t know, nor does he care to know, his name––says. “You ditched us for the freaks?” He looks genuinely baffled, which Eddie has to admit is fair. “Is this some kind of joke? Does Munson have something on you?”
Steve leans away from the table, hand moving from Eddie’s arm to the back of his chair, he hitches his opposite elbow on the back of his own chair. He kicks one foot up to brace on the table leg. It’s the stereotypical jock position: chest wide, staking a possessive claim, except Eddie isn’t a cheerleader.
“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Steve says.
“Dude, whatever it is,” the guy’s eyes linger on Eddie in a way that Eddie really does not like, “we can take care of it.”
Steve sighs.
It’s long and loud and purposeful.
“Listen, I feel like maybe Hagan hasn’t held up his end of our bargain, so let me make this as clear as I can and we can all be mature about it. Ah––” he interrupts himself, raising his voice a little, “No, hey. Look at me. All of you.” His tone is calm and level and patronizing in a way that Eddie knows would be infuriating if it was directed at him.
“I need you to understand,” he says slowly, making eye contact with each of them in turn, “That I’m not joking. I’m not posturing. If you touch Eddie, if you touch anyone at this table, you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than passing your driving test or making the starting lineup. There are people in the world with real problems and if you fuck with any of my new friends, you’re going join them.”
A couple scoff. Tommy, near the back, is distinctly silent. And without their usual ringleader, no one else volunteers to step forward as the aggressor.
“What happened to you, man?” One of the guys says instead.
Steve sighs again. It feels more genuine this time. “I grew up,” he says. “I recommend it.”
And then he just…waves them off, like he’s tired.
And they leave.
The group retreats to their own table in a wake of low murmurs, and everyone lets out a collective exhale.
Except for Steve, who is leaning into Eddie’s space again.
“You were weirdly quiet through that,” Steve murmurs, pushing Eddie’s hair over his shoulder so he can whisper in his ear. It’s an entitled gesture. The heat of his breath, fanned against Eddie’s neck, sends goosebumps down his arms.
“If I’m mouthy, it tends to just piss people off,” Eddie mutters back. “And I’m trying not to cause trouble for you seeing as you seem to create plenty for yourself.”
“Do what you want,” Steve says easily. “I know how to fight.”
Eddie tells his dick to calm the fuck down.
Now is not the time.
“Besides,” Steve whispers, even quieter, lips practically against Eddie’s ear, “I think I prefer you mouthy.”
Fuck.
This is flirting, right? It has to be flirting.
He makes frantic eye contact with Jeff and––yeah, judging by the expression on Jeff’s face Eddie is not making shit up. Steve Harrington is hitting on him. In the school cafeteria.
“Oh hey,” Steve says abruptly, turning to pull a Tupperware container out of his stuffed full backpack. “I made cookies last night if you guys want some.”
“Cookies?” Gareth says faintly.
“Yeah, peanut butter chocolate chip. The kids I babysit wanted some so I made a double batch to share. They’re good, I promise. And I substituted applesauce for some of the sugar and oil so they’re not as unhealthy as they could be––but don’t tell the kids that.”
He peels off the lid and Eddie is hit with the second-most heavenly smell he’s ever encountered. The first may or may not be Steve Harrington himself, who is now handing him one of the cookies. Eddie takes it wordlessly, watching as Steve stands to carry the container around to everyone else.
Gareth leans across the table so only Eddie can hear him. “How confused is your boner right now?” Gareth whispers.
Eddie suppresses a slightly hysterical whine. “Oh, are we talking about this? We don’t need to talk about this.”
“I think we’re going to have to if he keeps this shit up.”
“No,” Eddie says. “No, no. I’ll be fine. I just need to…get my head straight.”
“Good luck with that.” Gareth takes a bite of his cookie, “Oh, damn, these are good.”
Eddie eats his own cookie and tries not to moan about it.
He’s fine. Everything is fine.
••••
Steve Harrington is good at D&D.
Eddie had been worried, at first, that Steve might not take things seriously. That he’d laugh at their silly voices or make fun of the guys who wear costumes or just…make it clear that he thought they were ridiculous. Childish.
Instead, he maybe takes things too seriously––asking detailed questions about terrain and weather patterns and doing so many perception checks that Jeff is about ready to strangle him an hour in, but his overly cautious approach uncovers more than one trap Eddie had set. Steve is excellent at strategy and disconcertingly good at organizing the party when there’s something to fight. Even more disconcerting, most of his strategies appear to involve martyrdom and it’s only through Eddie fudging his combat rolls a little that Steve’s character survives the night.
He’s not perfect, of course. Steve’s math skills are abysmal and he constantly has to be reminded what his modifiers are, which Eddie does gently and without complaint, because he’d copied down Steve’s stats the night before and he doesn’t want Steve to be embarrassed. The guys will definitely never, ever, let him live it down, but he figures he’s already lost so much credibility with them at this point a little more won’t be the end of the world.
And Steve keeps smiling at him, so.
Worth it.
When Steve’s watch alarm goes off, a minute before 7pm, he makes a hasty exit for the bathroom, bag in hand, and the other guys decide he must have some sort of medication he has to take and he didn’t want to do it in front of them. Eddie doesn’t correct them, doesn’t know how he would even try to correct the assumption because he doesn’t actually understand what Steve is doing. But it does remind him that there is a Mystery afoot and Eddie really should be trying to figure out what the hell is going on instead of just…mooning over Harrington’s pretty face.
Then again, nothing is stopping him from doing both.
The guys warm to Steve by the end of the session, patting his back and calling goodbye as they exit the doors under the external halogen lights.
The night is quiet and cool and when Steve offers to drive Eddie home, Eddie can only say yes. Eddie slides into the passenger seat, tossing his backpack into the back, and decides to take the opportunity to snoop. He opens the glove compartment and pulls out the handful of cassettes inside.
“Oh,” Steve says, “wait, that’s not––”
There’s Dio and Metallica, Iron Maiden and Motorhead, and then the artists Eddie suspected all along: Madonna, A-ha, Donna Summer, ABBA, Journey, The Eagles and—oh.
Fleetwood Mac. With Landslide on the B side.
It’s shiny and new. No scuffs on the case.
“Shit,” Steve mutters under his breath.
“When did you even have time to get this?” Eddie asks, baffled. And maybe he shouldn’t assume, maybe he’s completely off-base, but Steve looks like he’s been caught doing something illegal so he thinks the assumption is apt. “You left our place at like 10pm last night and you’ve been in school all day.”
“I have a free period before lunch. The record store is a five minute drive from campus.”
“But…why?”
“I don’t know,” Steve says, with the soft resignation of someone lying. It sounds more like, “I can’t tell you,” which makes Eddie want to shake him.
Eddie considers Steve’s shadowed face: his downturned mouth and his stupidly long eyelashes. He looks tired.
Eddie exhales. “Well, we’re listening to it.”
Steve doesn’t argue.
He doesn’t say anything else at all until they get to the trailer and he’s hurrying around to open Eddie’s door for him and get his bag from the backseat like Eddie is some girl he’s dropping off after a date.
“Oh wait,” he says, ducking back to grab his own bag. “I have—hold on, it’s—there we go.”
He emerges with another tupperware container in his hands, this one smaller than the one he passed around at lunch.
“I thought Wayne might want some,” he says shyly, eyes on the cookies in his hands. “As a thank you. For yesterday.”
Eddie is going to scream.
“That’s really nice. I’m sure he’ll love them, and if he doesn’t I’ll eat them because apparently you’ve been possessed by Betty Crocker’s ghost. Or—actually I don’t know if she’s dead or not. Or if she was a real person. Anyway, the point is that—“
Steve is smiling at him. Softly. Like he’d be happy to listen to Eddie ramble as long as he wants.
Eddie clears his throat. “Wayne should be home if you want to give them to him.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll, uh, walk you in.”
So much screaming.
Steve does walk him in, hands over the cookies to a baffled-looking Wayne, and then touches Eddie’s hand—hardly a touch at all really, his first two fingers resting, briefly, on Eddie’s wrist, his thumb tucked just under the meat of Eddie’s palm, almost like he’s checking Eddie’s pulse.
“Goodnight,” he says.
Eddie doesn’t even know if he responds.
He’s still looking down at his wrist when Steve’s car engine starts and the headlights fan over the windows before everything goes dark and still outside.
“So,” Wayne says. “Is he…”
“What?” Eddie asks blankly.
“...your sweetheart?”
That’s enough to break Eddie out of whatever trance he’d been in. “My–? Jesus. No. You know who you’re talking about, right?”
“I know what I’m seeing,” Wayne mutters. “Not sure I’m happy about it.”
Eddie’s stomach immediately goes sour. They’ve never actually discussed Eddie’s romantic preferences. Wayne knew. He had to know, considering the circumstances in which Wayne became Eddie’s guardian. But they’ve never said anything out loud to each other and Eddie was hoping to continue that tradition potentially for forever.
“Wait,” Wayne says, moving forward to squeeze his shoulder, “I didn’t mean––fuck, you know I’m no good at this shit. Come sit down.”
They move to the couch.
They sit.
Wayne digs the heels of his palms into his eyes.
“I don’t care who you’re sweet on or who you bring home, you hear me? As long as they treat you right and they don’t get you into trouble. But that Harrington boy… I get the feeling he’s trouble. And with his folks being who they are, I just want you to be careful. That boy has a history and I don’t know what it is, but I’d wager it isn’t pretty.”
“I don’t know what it is either,” Eddie murmurs. “He’s not––I don’t think he’s bad trouble, though. He’s trying to protect me. Us. At school. Even though it’s put a giant target on his back. He’s quit basketball and joined Hellfire and he’s. I don’t know. I like him.” It feels like a confession.
“I wonder how his Daddy feels about all that,” Wayne murmurs. “You ever seen him come to school hurt?”
Eddie considers. “I don’t know. Why?”
Wayne just looks at him.
“You think his parents––?”
“I think I know the kind of boy his father was. I can imagine the sort of man he turned into.”
Eddie feels chilled all the sudden. He gets up from the couch to close the open window above the sink. It doesn’t help. He rests his hands, fingers splayed, on the countertop. He taps his nails on the fornica.
Abuse wouldn’t explain the kids or the panic attack or why he suddenly seems obsessed with Eddie. But it would explain some things.
“I’m not going to start avoiding him,” Eddie says.
Wayne sighs. “I didn’t expect you would. Considering.”
Eddie doesn’t ask him to elaborate.
He holds up the container of cookies Wayne had abandoned on the counter, then carries them over to the couch when he nods.
Wayne selects the largest one from the top. “Did he actually play your dragons game?”
Eddie nearly chokes on a laugh, helping himself to a cookie as well. “He did. Wasn’t half bad, either.”
Wayne takes a bite. His eyebrows go up. “Shit, did he make these?”
“He did,” Eddie says.
“Well. I suppose we can keep him around.”
Pt. 7
#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington/eddie munson#steve/eddie#eddie/steve#myfic#time travel fix it#stranger things fic
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Because of You
Steve’s not great at taking care of himself.
Everyone else, sure; he’ll bug them to hell and back about eating, about drinking water, about getting outside to see the sun. He’ll force vegetables down his kids’ throats if he has to.
But himself? He knows he’s not worth it. He knows he doesn’t need to take up that much space, that many resources. He gets by, eats when he needs to, drinks water if he remembers.
But he takes care of his people. And lately, his people has included one Eddie Munson.
“Hey, Eds,” he says, staring blankly at the wall as he cradles the phone to his ear.
“Hi, Steve. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine. Just wanted to check in, y’know? Make sure you’re doing alright.”
“Yeah, m’fine. How’re the kids?”
Steve chuckles. “The little shits are great. Driving me crazy, like always. Dustin claims he hates you because of whatever you pulled last Friday during the game.”
“Campaign, Steve.” He chuckles too. “Yeah, I was a little bit evil. It was a lot of fun. Henderson’s full of shit.”
“I know,” Steve answers. “We all do. He does. I think he gets his dramatics from you.”
Eddie gasps. Dramatically. “How dare,” he says, then immediately starts laughing when Steve does. “Hey, Steve?”
“Yeah, Eddie?”
He’s quiet now, serious. “How are you?”
Steve lets a quiet little chuckle slip out. “M’alright.”
“Just alright?”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m fine, Munson, c’mon, quit worrying.”
“You’re always taking care of everyone,” Eddie says, bold like he knows Steve won’t stop him. He’s right, but still. “But who takes care of you?”
“You’re right,” Steve deflects. “I do take care of everyone. Speaking of which, have you eaten today?”
Eddie doesn’t laugh. “Have you?”
“Eddie.”
“Steve.”
“No.” Hesitant, quiet.
“Will you?”
“I don’t know.”
“For me?” Parroting Steve’s tone. Hesitant, quiet.
“For you? I- Yeah. I might… need help.”
“That’s okay. Want me to come over?”
“I don’t- no. Just… over the phone?”
Eddie hums. “I can do that. What’re you in the mood for?”
Steve huffs a humorless laugh. “Nothing.”
“Not really gonna cut it here, babe.” They both ignore the slip. “Want choices?”
Steve sighs. “Dunno. Sure.”
“Do you have the energy for anything involving more than five steps?”
“I- guess? If I have to?”
“So that’s a no,” Eddie says, mostly to himself. “PB and J?”
Steve makes a face. “What am I, Dustin?”
“You’re about as stubborn as him right now, yeah, and he gets that from you.”
“Fuck you too.”
“Maybe later. PB and J? Yes or no?”
Steve sighs again. “Fine.”
“Okay, good. Which phone are you using?”
“The one in the kitchen.”
“Okay, good, so you can narrate to me what you’re doing.”
Steve sighs. “We really don’t have to do this-”
“Y’know, I kinda think we do. Up and attem, Stevie-boy, first things first is bread.”
Steve groans, but goes and gets the bread, narrating the rest of it without prompting. “And you?” He asks after his sandwich is made. “Have you eaten?”
“Uh… no.”
“Goddamn hypocrite.”
“I forgot! It’s not an energy thing, I literally just… forgot. That I need to eat.”
“Right, because that makes perfect sense.”
He imagines Eddie rolling his eyes. “It does in my head,” Eddie argues. “I’ll eat, I swear. I’ll do it right now if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees quietly.
“Okay,” Eddie says, just as quietly. “Give me one second, I’m in my room, let me switch over to the one in the kitchen.”
“M’kay.”
A few seconds later Eddie’s back, panting slightly as he opens the fridge. “Okay. Shit, we need to go shopping. There’s not much to have in here. Uh… cheese? And tortillas? I could do a quesadilla?”
Steve snickers. “Who’re you, Mike?”
“Hey, fuck you, Harrington.”
“Maybe later,” Steve parrots.
He imagines Eddie rolling his eyes again. “Anyways. I’m just gonna think out loud while I cook, if you don’t mind, ‘cause there’s this one part of a song that I can’t quite nail down, right? I’ve got the melody and I’ve got most of the lyrics, and that’s what’s really giving me issues-”
Twenty minutes later he’s tossing the burnt quesadilla into the trash and hanging up to dial a pizza place. Steve laughs at him long after the line’s gone dead.
It keeps happening, is the thing. Steve asks if Eddie’s eaten, Eddie asks if Steve has, and they’ll eat over the phone together. One time, Steve changes the script. Says yes when Eddie asks if Steve wants him to come over. “Okay,” Eddie says. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
He arrives promptly when he said he would and proceeds to make himself at home in Steve’s kitchen, going through his fridge without a qualm. “Ooh, you’ve got rich people food, can I use it?” He holds up various vegetables as an example.
Steve snorts. “Sure.”
“M’kay. I’m gonna make stir fry, ‘cause I saw this recipe and have been dying to try it. Anything you don’t want?”
Steve shrugs. “‘M not really picky.”
Eddie cooks, and they eat, and Eddie makes Steve laugh five more times, even though he feels like shit, and Steve makes Eddie laugh too, and it feels more like an accomplishment than it should.
They keep flirting, too. They both know, and it’s not that they’re scared to say it, they just know it’s not time yet. Neither of them know when it will be time, but they both know they will know.
It confuses Steve if he thinks about it for longer than five seconds.
Then, one day, it comes to a head. Steve arrives at Eddie’s trailer, unannounced, eyes shining with something that has Eddie treading carefully. “Steve?”
“Eddie.” He swallows, looks around. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Nah, you’re always welcome here. C’mon, let’s go sit on the couch, you look like you have something you want to say.”
Steve swallows again. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” Eddie sits, watches as Steve does the same. “What’s up?”
“I like you,” Steve blurts out. “I know you know I do, and I know you like me, and we both know that we both like each other, but I realized it’s… it’s something else, Eds, because I- I ate. And it was hard but I did it by pretending your voice was in my ear, telling me I could do it, reminding me of the next step, and it was just a sandwich but-” he looks away, swipes at his eyes. “I did it,” he whispers. “I did it for you. Because of you. And I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing, man, why we’re dancing around each other, but I don’t want to anymore.” He shakes his head, looks directly in Eddie’s eyes. “I wanted to say it, to lay it out, and let you do what you will. Because I trust you. I feel safe with you. I believe you’ll take care of me, because you’ve already proven you will.”
Eddie swallows, eyes glassy. “I forgot to eat,” he whispers, and Steve laughs.
“That’s okay. I’ll remind you.”
“And on the days neither of us have the energy?”
“We rock-paper-scissors for who calls the pizza place.”
Eddie laughs, then. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, Stevie.”
“Okay,” Steve agrees, and moves to lean into Eddie’s side.
They don’t kiss, not yet. They don’t need to. They both know. They get up a few minutes later, and Eddie finds something to eat, and Steve sits on the counter and teases Eddie with something akin to pure happiness shining in his eyes.
#steddie#steddie fic#stranger things#stranger things fic#st fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#they’re both awful at taking care of themselves#in different ways#Eddie is 9 million percent ADHD#and forgets food is a thing he himself needs as a person#Steve doesn’t bother half the time#the other half he doesn’t have the energy#Eddie does#Eddie has too much energy#it’s just enough for Steve#starambles
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I don’t speak to whores
Pairing: Bonten x AroAce!GN!Reader
Genre: Crack, SMAU
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, whore behaviour, NO ROMANCE, just reader bullying Bonten
pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
Was feeding him a PB&J sandwich necessary?
Probably not.
It was fun though.
Just as you were picking up your papers to go to the meeting you had scheduled. Mikey stormed into your office as if God himself was whipping him, slamming his hands on the table with all of his tiny, yet powerful fury.
Now thinking about it, he definitely seemed like the type to be into that shit.
You merely stared at his piercing, void-like eyes, trying to figure out where, when, and most importantly, if you fucked up.
Maybe he figured out you were the one to feed that PB&J sandwich to a severely allergic Ran.
“Is it true you made Ran throw his own flowers in the dumpster?!” Through his breathless, heavy gasps, the sentence came out more as a single word.
You cocked your head.
“Yes? Is that a problem?”
The loud slam of one of his credit card on your desk made you jump.
Who knew something so tiny could move so fast?
Especially something that looked as if it were poorly taxidermied.
“This is your bonus, you are golden, I love you.”
You blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“The card has 10 million yen on it. Do you want more? I can get you more. Actually, now that you mentioned it, you should get more. Let me just-“
Without even giving you a chance to speak, or finishing his own sentence, the small menace rushed put of your office, his mumbles of ‘Needing to go to an ATM’ still audible from down the corridor.
You blinked at the card.
You could swear it blinked back.
“Well, aren’t you truly beautiful.” A voice you can best describe as nails on a particularly moldy chalkboard pierced your ears, unfortunately drawing your attention to a particularly gruesome creature.
He looked like a fucking jellyfish hybrid born out of human hubris and misery, the awful mop of what he probably called ‘hair’ sitting on his head unpleasantly.
Do people consider this attractive?
“Hello.” Stoically, you greeted, disinterested and already tired of everything regarding this damn job.
Mikey made all these men seem like the Boogie Man, a terrifying yet constant presence, inevitable and permanent in their goal to make everyone around them fail.
Mikey was truly giving them more credit than they’re due, because all these bitches were is exhausting.
The fore-mentioned creature flashed a smile, softly taking your hand into his palm and kissing the top of it, his well-manicured nails digging into the sides of your palm.
Is this considered cute?
You’ve seen cockroaches cuter than this.
Suppressing a gag all while smiling a tight, uncomfortable smile, you wrestled your hand out of his ungodly grasp and plopped on one of the free chairs, next to a slim, decently aesthetically pleasing pink-haired man with scars, hoping he will leave you be.
Wrong.
Again.
You should start a Bingo card.
“Hello!” Energetically, he spun towards your direction, the chair producing an ear-piercing squeak as he got way too close to your face, “I’m Sanzu!”
Oh.
The spawn of Satan.
Great.
“Hello to you too.”
“Baby, you’re hot, I just may fall in love.” Beaming a smile your way, he tilted his head, his hand sneaking to rest around your shoulders, making your skin crawl the same way worms will through his rotting flesh if he puts his filthy hands anywhere close to your goddamn body again.
Thank God for rule number three.
Physical violence is encouraged.
And that is just what you did.
As minutes ticked by, incredibly slow if you may add, more people trickled in, all faces unfamiliar but two, one belonging to the slutty little bitch man from a few days ago, and the other to Kakucho, who you have decided to label ‘depression incarnate’, purely off the permanently sour expression on his otherwise pleasant face.
And finally, Mikey.
Just as he opened his mouth to shush his little rodents, you made a mental note to tell him his hair is an abomination.
The meeting was a fucking disaster.
If you had paper-thin patience before, the blond catboy has successfully managed to shave it down to an electron-thin slice of pure rage.
You had one job, one *fucking* job, present your shit, tell them they’re idiots - a Mikey approved method - and be the fuck out of there.
But no.
The capitalistic catboy had to interrupt you constantly, an irritating crescendo of “Sorry, may I just add really quickly-“, “Sorry sweetheart, let me-“, “Sorry, but this chart-“ almost making your ears bleed.
You could feel your blood pressure rising by the milisecond.
Hands crossed, foot tapping with impatience, you tried to finish your report in a polite manner.
“So to conclude your schedules-“
Of course the human embodiment of a Persian cat couldn’t even let you do that.
“Sorry to interrupt, but may I-“
That was it, your patience left you, dead and departed to chase wild buffalo in prairies of some better worlds.
Your face twisted into a sardonic, wrathful smile.
“I am almost done, let me just get this done, and then I’ll leave the podium all up to you.”
He tilted his head, his dead, irisless eyes staring deep into your soul.
Mikey said this was the romantic one?
Mikey clearly has no fucking idea what the hell is he talking about.
To be fair, neither did you, but you knew the definition of the word, and it did not include whatever the fuck this dude was snorting.
“Kokonoi-san, I am almost done.”
“But-“
The electron got split into a fucking particle, and with a perfectly sweet, professional voice, you picked your words carefully.
“Kokonoi-san” You placed your hands on the table, leaning towards him, with a sickly sweet smile, “This is your last warning. When you’ll have to deal with 8 idiots, then you may speak.”
The fucker leaned right back, an even sweeter smile on his stupid, horrifying face.
“You think I am scared of you?”
“Actually, yes, as all of you combined have the time management of a dead gerbil, without someone managing your time as if I were your goddamn mommy, you’d all be swamped and get nothing done in this godforsaken gang. I recommend you shut you mouth, let me talk, and listen. I can see your fucking browser history, you know?”
The flash of horror on his face gave you an incredible amount of satisfaction.
Straightening your back out, your cold gaze passed all of them.
“Any more complaints?”
Silence.
“I asked a question.”
You were met with a unison of muttered no’s.
“Excellent, so to circle back to Rindou’s schedule-“
Two days passed in relative silence.
Only two fucking days.
But you can’t have shit in this goddamn workplace, now can you?
You’ve seen feral hogs better behaved than these motherfuckers.
“Hey, y/n, I brought you these reports.” Blondie barged into your office, without even knocking, naturally, and with a cocky sway in his walk, he laid the papers on your desk, straightening them out meticulously.
You don’t know what it was about him, but you had a bone-deep desire to break his fucking jawbone.
You refused even look up at him, merely nodding instead, as it was your break and you were too busy complaining to your best friend about how annoying your coworkers were to pay the resident catboy cosplayer any mind.
What a fucking joke.
Kokonoi, for whatever godforsaken reason, stood by the damn desk, not moving a muscle, barely even breathing, still waiting on you to pay him a crumb of attention.
Not happening until that damn clock hits noon.
Minutes ticked by.
Your best friend sent their condolences just as the clock at the top of your screen spelled out the end of your break, and with a heavy sigh, and finally giving up, you laid your phone on the desk, glancing in the general direction of Mr. Krabs.
And there was a Burkin bag right on your desk, for whatever reason.
You stared at the bag.
It stared back.
You finally looked up at the man.
“We kinda got off on the wrong foot,” He sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I want to give you this. As a peace offering. It’d fit your aesthetic well.” Shrugging, his previous humility was replaced by a smug smile.
Your face didn’t move a muscle.
On one hand, Mikey said to never accept gifts.
On the other…
This was fucking expensive.
And would sell great on e-Bay.
“That is very kind of you. Apology accepted.” Leaning your elbows on the desk as your fingers interlaced, you offered a polite smile, nodding your head.
His smugness only grew.
“I’m glad. I hope we can work together for a long* time.”
“I hope the same, Koko.”
“So would you like to go out to dinner sometime? As coworkers, of course, I’d like to meet you a little better.“
Raising an eyebrow, you looked him up and down, repeating it numerous times over.
“Well I don’t really think that’d be quite professional…”
“Oh come on, my treat, I’m sure we’ll get along great.” He laughed, playfully sticking his tongue out.
Leaning back into the comfort of your chair, you started filing your nails.
“I’m allergic to food.”
“What?” Kokonoi blinked, all of his previous mischief stopping to a halt.
You nodded, looking away, a look of deep sorrow marring your face.
“Yes, it is in fact a very serious condition.”
“Wait, so, how do you stay alive? Like, how aren’t you dead?”
“Photosynthesis.”
🔖Taglist (closed):
@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @m0rrax @levistiddies @bxnten @spookygeto @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @bontenacious @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @aurel1ia @nahoyas-nymph @one-green-frog @justrandomlypassing @kio-kookie @haikyuu-simps-assemble @arlecchino-n-scara-k @ayhashi @mOrl @tiredlattes @jeagerslutx @hayamirinrin @crown5 @medusalovessnakes @bblyerim @ohnoyouareasimp @sakinotfound @syddisheep @barcelona-sergei @solliver05 @ricecake23 @ayamvirus @vanillaashakee (second tag list in comments. in bold are those who tumblr won’t let me tag. my apologies!)
suggested by: @nahoyas-nymph
#tokyorev#tokyo revengers#bonten#kakucho hitto#ran haitani#manjiro sano#rindou haitani#sanzu akashi#bonten x reader#kokonoi hajime
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congrats on the 500 followers!
For the fic prompts, could I please request Rex and #14? 😏💙
Thanks so much and I am looking forward to reading all these!
➼ ɴᴏᴜʀ'ꜱ 500 ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
⋆ ★ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ! ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀᴛʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʀᴇx ᴏɴᴇ, ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ, ʟᴏʟ 😍
➼ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ☆ “ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ɪ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ”
➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ʀᴇx x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴛʀɪᴘᴛᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɪᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ 😭, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ, ʟᴇᴀᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ɢʀɪɴᴅɪɴɢ
➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 515
➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ
Rex only has you for tonight.
He knows this damn well when you’re at 79’s together, watching the time with a vigilant eye. At the point it felt it was becoming too late, that he wouldn’t have the time he needed with you before he had to leave the morning tomorrow, he softly tucked his hair behind your ear and leaned in your ear.
“Let’s go home, cyare.”
Now, he has you on the bed already; you’re desperately stripping off your jacket while he unbuttons the shirt of his uniform, but your lips stay latched onto each other. There’s barely any space to breathe in the space he’s created, and the mere feeling of his bare skin against yours is heavenly once he’s got most of his clothes off.
He meets you on the bed, mouthing against your jaw,
“What do you want me to do, baby?”
You whine, hands crawling up to his back. You dig your nails into his shoulders, grounding yourself as you lift your hips to roll them against his boxers and prominent bulge. He groans softly but remains focused on getting an answer from you.
“How do you want me?”
Moving your head to press your foreheads together, a look of ravished desperation curses your features into a permanent state of helpless lust for your beautiful boyfriend.
“Make sure I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” You say in a firm voice, more steady than anticipated. Rex’s eyes widen, then he lets out a breathless chuckle. For a moment you notice a wrinkle of a smile, but it’s gone before you can surely get a proper look.
“Yeah?” He maunders, voice becoming more desperate with the more time spent just talking. You hum, bring him down for another kiss, and moan into his mouth when you feel how hard he is for you. The soft skin of your thigh acts as his stabilizer, and he grips you tight to him. “Is that what you want, mesh’la?”
You nod again and smile softly.
“Make sure I don’t forget how good you feel,” You tell him. A laugh leaves you, washed in your breathy moan when the hand on your high decides to explore further. Rex flashes you a look of mischief, one you don’t get to see often, as he urges you to open your legs for him and let him run his hands over the fabric of your panties. You’re just able to giggle once more, running the pad of your thumb over his bottom lip. “Not like I would in the first place…”
That’s when Rex laughs with you, a flush of color over his face while he looks at you. He’s so pretty like this, you decide promptly, so exposed all for you and no other, filled with so much need it’s hard for him to simply stand above you without wishing to strip you down and fuck your brains out. It’s something that can be so intimate, so personal and doting even when wrapped in lace of filth and want. Even in this haze, he’s still yours.
tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @meshlaxbunny @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @star-burned @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @aconstructofamind @xflashcat @dreamie411 @padawancat97
#nour writes stuff#nour’s 500 follower celebration#star wars#the clone wars#the bad batch#star wars fanfiction#the clone wars fanfiction#the bad batch fanfiction#captain rex#captain rex tcw#tcw rex#captain rex x reader#captain rex x you#rex x reader#tcw rex x reader#captain rex x y/n#clone captain rex#clone troopers#clone trooper rex#rex star wars#star wars captain rex#commander rex#captain rex headcanons#reader insert
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a lesson in romantics; lesson six
summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀
a/n: i never really intended on this being a slowburn LMAO but i guess that's what it is now! also i am finding it increasingly difficult to not include 'y/n' or 'y/l/n' anywhere in this give me strength pls 😭
characters: steve harrington, robin buckley, only mentions of the reader
word count: 0.9k
warnings: none really, steve gets a little flustered, cursing
taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose
series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot
SERIES MASTERLIST
HAWKINS HIGH, DECEMBER 1992
Steve was the cool teacher.
The self-proclaimed chill teacher who spoke to his students like normal people, the teacher who shared everything with his kids.
But there was one subject that was secretly off limits, a silent rule within the classroom of Mr. Harrington. And that was Steve’s love life.
It was a Thursday afternoon and Steve was in the middle of his sophomore history class, the students quietly reading a chapter from the textbook when one of the girls near the back piped up with an interesting question.
“Do you like the new art teacher, Mr. H?”
Steve’s ears pricked up at the insinuating nature of the question, lowering his glasses so they perched on the bridge of his nose.
“She has a name, Olivia,” Steve replied, eyes scanning the room as other students started listening in on the conversation, “but sure I like her, she’s a good teacher.” Steve shrugged.
Steve hoped that would be the end of this truly awkward conversation, exhaling through his nose as he noticed Olivia leaning towards the girl who was sitting next to her, whispering something in her ear causing them to giggle.
“Girls,” Steve warned, never one for hard discipline but surely worried about where exactly this conversation was going if it carried on any longer.
The rumblings died down but not for long before Olivia popped up with another question for Steve.
“Do you have a crush on her, Mr. H?” Olivia asked, a totally innocent facade painted onto her face. The glass erupted into giggles and hushed conversation between the students as Steve pinched his eyebrows together with finger and thumb, groaning as he stood from his desk chair.
“That’s enough now, guys, come on,” hands on hips in his signature pose, that combined with his tone of voice had the kids simmering down in an instant, smirks still evident on their faces as they went back to reading.
Steve sighed, dragging his palm over his face as he sat back down when it dawned on Steve. The realisation went off like a clock tower striking at midnight as all the colour drained from his face. Olivia and her gaggle of friends were the very same group of girls that were early to your class the same morning Steve brought you coffee. The same morning that Steve’s attempt at flirting with you got cut short.
The bell soon rang signalling the end of the lesson and the end of the school day. The kids soon rushed out of the classroom, waving and saying goodbye to their teacher all whilst Steve reminded them of the homework that was due on Monday.
“Fuck,” Steve sighed, collecting his things in his arms as he made his way out, locking the door behind him. Was it really that obvious? Sure, Steve liked you, he had made peace with that now but was he so bold that even the kids had noticed how he acted a little different around you?
Barging into the teacher’s lounge as inconspicuous as he could, he made a beeline for Robin. Politely smiling at the other teachers Robin was sitting with and excusing himself for his abruptness, he placed his large palm on his best friend’s shoulder, “Can I talk to you? Like, now?”
Taking her hand in his, he pulled her out into the hallway, making sure the coast was clear before he spoke. “I’m in deep shit Robin!” Steve exclaimed, yet his tone still hushed, his hands wailing in the air.
“Wait,” Robin spoke, eyes scanning quickly across Steve’s face, trying to figure out whatever is the matter with him, “calm down, Steve, Jesus! What’s going on?”
“A group of kids in my last class started asking stupid questions,” he started, his brain almost working too fast for his mouth, “and then Olivia Johnson asked if I have a crush on–”
“Steve,” Robin sighed, cutting him off before he could finish, already knowing who he was going to say before he could say himself.
“--and now I’m just worrying, I guess, like– am I being too obvious about it? Am I doing too much? Fuck, Robin, I just don’t want this spreading round the whole school and–”
“Steve!” Robin spoke louder this time, doing her most to get Steve to stop rambling, “Just be quiet for a second, please?”
Steve sighed but nodded nonetheless, agreeing to let Robin unload her advice on him, whether he wanted it or not.
“You like her, right? I mean, I know you do, we all know you do,” she exaggerated with her hands as she spoke, referring to their friend group, “and deep down I know you wanna ask her out so I think you should just bite the bullet and do it.” Robin ended the last sentence with a shrug, seeing the solution to all of Steve’s problems so clearly. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, she says no and you move on.”
Robin made it sound so easy. Sure, he could suck it up and ask you out, but what if you did say no? Steve feared it wouldn’t be as easy as moving on like Robin suggested. Steve’s crush on you was becoming no laughing matter, more meaningful as the days went by. He wasn’t sure he would be able to recover from the heartache of your rejection, as dramatic as that sounded.
“Maybe,” Steve murmured, hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze fixated on his shoes. He moved back and forth with the idea.
She rolled her eyes at him in response, shaking her head at his stubbornness, “You are so smart in so many ways, Steve,” Robin chuckled, “but you need to get out of your head sometimes.”
Maybe just this once he would take Robin’s advice.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington oneshot#stranger things fanfiction#teacher!steve#alir#k.fic
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It really does feel like the writers just kind of dont care about the world. When i first saw it, i was really interested in just how wild it was, a whole world based of hieronymous bosch? Cool.
But then they just contradict themselves, dont do anything with it or it just doesnt make sense? for example:
-In the first season the world is presented as this brutal, hostile place, where walking down the street can get you killed. Characters dont know what hugging or shaking hands is. The schools are brutal, teachers being downright vile at points. In season 2 they have a whole school dedicated to darwinian logic. But... later the teachers are suddenly nice, the world feels less hostile and they have therapists? what? in a place where you get thrown in prison for writing fanfiction?
-Some jokes are made that are 'haha get it cuz not human' but they make no sense. They have bard magic, walking guitars and bands, but when they have to look after luz, they suddenly think nightmare noises are a banger? Or how willow makes a '40s cartoon' joke, gus has a pb&j samwich, etc.
-Potion magic makes no sense. How is it a coven when you can do it WITHOUT magic. what happens when you get branded? do you just lose all magic? is it a pity coven for bad witches?
I feel on its own these things are nitpicky, but when they pile up it just feels like they were only thinking about making the place LOOK cool while having zero substance.
So you're correct that a lot of these are either nitpicks or just really lazy jokes on the part of the writers. In fact, the lazy, fish out of water jokes came back in S3 and make Amity just look like falling in love literally drained her brain out of her ears. However, that doesn't make them invalid, especially in a show with little worldbuilding. They pile up into making the whole thing feel like a construct.
Luckily, you don't have to go to nitpicks to point out that the writers didn't give a shit. Dana herself is one of the worst writers as far the worldbuilding goes. After all, she wrote Reaching Out.
She was the one who treated being a Wild Witch like choosing not to go to college.
She also co-wrote The First Day where, you know, they don't even acknowledge that multi-tracking is explicitly illegal in this society so why would an EC funded school EVER allow that?
There's SO MANY of these sorts of things peppered throughout the series that makes the ONE part of the world building we ever get, that is anything close to making this world actually unique besides implications, a straight up lie. It'd be like if Avatar made being able to multi-bend something you chose seven episodes in and suddenly slaughtered the entire point of the Avatar being special. It doesn't though because WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!?
And there's no way to call this a nitpick. It's the hard basis for one of the main cast, even though Eda's status as a criminal is ALL OVER THE PLACE in S1, especially for people giving a shit about it. It's effectively the core of the villain's plot and the society they created. Any crack in the coven system becomes a crack in your main plot... And when it was first introduced, rather than nine, their were hundred, a fact that persisted into S2 when a character VOICED BY DANA talked about joining the Cute Cat Coven. You know, a coven theoretically not affected by the draining spell.
It's even important thematically. It is the oppression that Luz is supposed to fighting against. The way that self expression and being true to you is repressed is through the coven system and the laws surrounding it. Those need to actually function for those themes to feel like they have weight or they fall apart. It's part of why TOH struggles with thematic consistency because self expression doesn't feel like a core part of it when no one gives a fuck what you do. When there is no actual pressure to conform and hide yourself. At least, not for a story like this.
It's probably the biggest reason why when I hear people exclaim that TOH has great worldbuilding I just have to look at them funny. After all, none of this is even new or actually unique *gestures at Dystopian Fiction in general and D&D wizards school of magic* and it's told like shit. And for a story like this, your fantasy epic about sticking it to the man by showing how special you are, it NEEDED to be told better. It needed to have point.
But it never did and it just makes the writers look either like they didn't care or are just incompetent, let alone when the show director themselves is shooting their core concepts in the head.
======+++++=======
I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!
I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past.
I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead.
If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.
A Twitter you can follow too
And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.
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Ok, after learning about Adrien getting shafted in the finale for Bug Noire to exist I thought of an alternative way that fight could go to fit both Adrien and Bug Noire in, and with some tweaks I think that it could partially work for how things go in PB au:
So my idea is that the finale fight goes pretty much like Chat Blanc. Ladynoir confront Monarch in the Agreste manor, the 2 v 1 eventually makes it to the evil lair, Adrichat sees Emilie and gets overwhelmed by his emotions.
Monarch sends an Akuma at him, this time without punting his own kid halfway across the city, but before Chat Blanc 2: Electric Boogaloo can get started, Adrien manages to rip off the Black Cat Miraculous and yeet it at Ladybug. The Akuma still gets to him, entering his jacket or phone or something, and Bug Noire unifies.
Bug Noire keeps Monarch too preoccupied to fully Akumatize Adrien, so the fight stays 1 v 1 for a bit, until Monarch is able to use Adrien fully as a hostage to get both the Black Cat and Ladybug Miraculous from Bug Noire
Gabriel makes his Wish, and it's made clear in the epilogue that the whole world has been rewritten so everyone, Marinette included, genuinely think he's the hero who finally stopped Monarch, but it ends on Adrienette feeling like something isn't quite right...
Now, to tweak this for PB, I had the idea of Marinette getting between the Akuma and Chat to prevent Chat Blanc, and her giving him the Ladybug Earrings so we get Monarch vs ...Mister Noir I guess?
Instead of using Marinette as a hostage, Monarch is the one to knock part of the ceiling onto Emilie's coffin (why the fuck did they have Maribug do that in cannon???) to distract Mister Noir.
Monarch tries to take the Miraculous while Mister Noir is keeping Emilie from being crushed, but Adrien is able to summon Gimmi before he can to wish for it to be impossible for Gabriel to ever use another Miraculous, which has the Equivalent Exchange side affects of making Adrien, Marinette, and their allies unable to any Miraculous ever again as well.
((Something which could also help Marinette realize Chloe's had character development bc she can't use any Miraculous either, so the cosmic energy of the universe or whatever felt Chloe was still her ally despite everything that happened with the both of them))
Idk if this helps or works, but it's the only ideas I've got
Fair idea!
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The Quarry had such potential to be amazing, they had some great characters but the plot wasn't great. The ending felt so pathetic. We go into the woods all dramatic like and end up just shooting silas in his bed. And that's it. No group emotional group meet up, no finding out what happens when they all find out who loved and who died, the police interviews in Until Dawn were great. The podcast at the end of the Quarry was so boring!
On the plus side really really want to get railed in a jealous Nick and Jacob sandwich. Even better if they've just been infected and can't control themselves. Both of them tugging and manhandling you around as they rip at your clothes, ignoring your tears but both moaning when you whimper, as they both desperately try to get their cock in you first
(major ending spoilers!! also me being down horrendous LOL)
RIGHT??? like the absolute worst thing you could do for a game like this is to not focus the conclusion on the characters we actually care about. i haven't seen anyone that actually liked the podcast, and why would you categorize the evidence you find as being evidence to give to the police, and then never even give it to them? it's just given to two randos that we never meet or see once! and i agree, the whole silas ending was so weak. and is it just me or was the whole werewolf blood thing totally useless? like maybe I've only seen endings where they haven't gotten a hold of it but it seems like it doesn't even do anything so it makes no difference whether you give it to ryan or laura. plus the fact that the only real difference is that you kill off three of the characters if you spare silas and eliza is STILL pissed off at you no matter what you do, like it would've been so much more psychologically horrifying if she actually praised you for sparing him and made it feel like killing off the characters you've grown to like and have kept alive was the right thing to do. still wouldn't have been a great ending but it would have been better than what we got. alas.
HOWEVER. more importantly. pre-werewolf jacob/nick sandwich......god i wanna eiffel tower them so bad 🥵🥵 especially bc nick is proven to be abominably horny in his pre-transformation stage, while jacob shows how insecure he really is, and both extremes are a recipe for hot, hot, jealousy sex. nick is so possessive and greedy and wants as much of you as he can grab, while jacob is clingy and needy and desperate to be as close to you as he possibly can because he needs to feel you against him. even better if they both had crushes on you beforehand, because now they're truly rivals, and not just for their beloved pb butterpops. both of them just fondling you out in the open and so territorial over you that you can feel the heat from borh sides, your cries totally drowned out by jacob kissing you, loudly, and nick mumbling absolutely foul comments in your ear about your body and how he's gonna fuck you like he's been fantasizing about doing since the first day of camp. and you don't even have a moment to say anything about being out in the open, they don't care about stripping you naked in the middle of the forest, nobody is gonna come near when they smell (and hear) two werewolves descending on some poor little human. all they care about is warming their cocks inside you, whether they can both fit or one of them has to take up residence in your mouth. it's even scarier but also kind of hot when their eyes start turning dark and their nails dig into you when they cum, and when they finally break off of you you know that you just have to run. stumble through the woods like a newborn calf with cum-soaked legs and a bitter taste in your mouth, just hoping that you can make it back to the lodge and your friends and hurry inside--you don't yet know what's happening, but the pained screams followed immediately by howling from behind you certainly can't be a sign of anything good.
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ok this has definitely been said before like a bajillion times but sorry i feel a little bit crazy every time i think about it
the fucking rock shirt/pajama shirt/whatever. like. the fact that it was one of PB's prized possession, probably her *most* prized possession, and it had more sentimental affection imbued in it or whatever than HAMBO????????????? (and the scene with her *sniffing* it like how could anyone possibly interpret that as platonic)
(and somehow there's still people who think bubbline was "forced" or "came out of nowhere" like lol ok were they watching the show with their ears covered and their eyes closed or something???)
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It was easy to give himself over to pleasure when this thing became less of a thing and more of a relationship. He had no choice in the matter, really.
Steve is always there, offering him food, making sure he’s hydrated and comfortable. And Eddie, god, Eddie has found the direct line to his heart through all of the little compliments he provides, all of the soft touches he shares.
In short, Billy was doomed from the start.
“You’re my sweet boy,” Eddie croons. He has Billy’s face cupped in both hands, smudging kisses anywhere he can find purchase. “So handsome.”
Maybe he looks like a big dope with the way he’s grinning, at the mercy of his partner’s affection, but he doesn’t care. Sometime ago, he would have bit back on his smile and tried to hide his blush. Tried to argue that no, he’s not handsome. Not worthy of praise. But now he thinks that, if anything, his tail would be wagging if he had one.
Like some lovesick dog that hasn’t seen its owner all day and acts like it’s been years when they finally come through the door.
Because that’s exactly how he feels.
“Thanks,” he chuckles.
“Mm, you’re welcome.”
Eddie hums against his lips. Smooths both thumbs over his cheekbones with his soft, airy touch. A complete contrast to the heavy weight of the kiss. There’s no tongue. The guy’s mouth doesn’t even open, but he presses passionately and spawns a whirlwind of glee in Billy’s chest.
Feels like when his sweet tooth has been satiated. Like that tang at the back of his throat when he’s had his fill of chocolate, the root of the feeling nestled deep in his spine.
He laughs into the kiss because he can’t help it. Eddie pulls back with a smile, still so close that the warmth radiating from his skin is still felt.
“What’re you giggling at, huh?”
Before Billy can even respond, his face is being smothered in more love pecs, and he snorts. Wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrists but doesn’t attempt to pry his hands away.
In a matter of seconds, he’s a mess. Blinking away tears and gasping for breath between laughs, between kisses, like he’s being tickled to death. It gets worse when his back bumps into something. Something warm. And then another pair of arms is wrapping around his waist from behind.
“I didn’t realize it was spoil Billy hour,” Steve lilts. Brushes his lips against the blond’s shoulder, drags them into the crook of his neck. The outline of his smile only serves to make that gleeful feeling in Billy’s chest worsen. “Cute boys get cuddles!”
“Fuck yeah, they do,” Eddie agrees. “Is it PB&J time?”
“No,” Billy wheezes.
“Y’know, I think it is. With raspberry jam?” Steve asks.
“Always.”
Eddie presses closer. Sufficiently pins Billy between him and Steve, his hands leaving his face in favor of grabbing his shoulders. Maybe the blond would squirm more if he wasn’t so pliant right now. So easy.
Never mind the fact that he’s allergic to peanuts; they’re not talking about making a real sandwich anyways.
“I’m gonna kill you both,” he says, voice pitching up when two pairs of lips meet either side of his neck.
It’s almost sickening, how bad it tickles. How no matter how much he squirms, he’s unable to free himself. Unable to escape from the raspberries against his sensitive skin. His partners only stop when he bunches his shoulders up defiantly.
“Aw, c’mon, you like our sandwiches,” Eddie tuts.
“No,” Billy breathes. “I don’t.”
“Then why’re you smiling so big, then?” Steve chuckles.
He hooks his chin over Billy’s shoulder. Interlocks his fingers over his lower abdomen and relaxes his hold. Eddie mimics him and returns his hands to Billy’s cheeks.
The sandwich becomes gentle. Light to the touch.
And so what if he likes the silly shenanigans that they do to him? Their antics are comparable to the little compliments and words of praise that he’s grown so fond of, like coded I love you’s, and he’s weak to it. Weak to the gentle hands that hold him so dearly and the voices that sound like angels in his ears.
“‘Cause I love you idiots. Now get the fuck off me.”
#harringroveson#billy hargrove#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#fluff fic#my boy deserves a little pampering from his silly boyfriends#just so so many kisses and cuddles that he melts from it#my writing
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*slides $500 in Monopoly money over*
Got any sub!Hunter and Dom!femreader smut in the back?
(you can ignore this if your requests are closed, I'm not sure if they're open right now)
⋆ ★ *ꜱʟᴏᴡʟʏ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʟɪᴅᴇꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ* ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜɪᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ? ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ᴍʏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴜꜱᴜᴀʟʟʏ ɪ’ᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴅᴇʟᴇᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴇɴᴛɪᴄɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱᴋ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰɪɴᴇ :)
➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ
Hunter is a keen lover who's always in tune with both his senses and yours, due to his heightened senses but also his natural instinct as a leader.
But when he finds himself in a rather submissive mind space, eagerly ready for you to take the lead, he lets those senses swallow him.
He still has his subconscious checking in to make sure it isn't too much, and if it ever is he'll tell you exactly that, but for the most part, he's letting all the sensations overtake him in the most pleasant way possible.
Speaking of his senses, depriving him of one thrills him in a way he can't explain. Blindfolding or tying him up forces him to solely focus on one sense at a time, amping it up to another level.
Enjoys it when you urge him on to do certain things; "Squeeze my hips. Yeah, just like that. Good." "Look up. Let me look into those gorgeous eyes. There he is." It genuinely makes him crumble in your grasp immediately.
Additionally, he'd never say this out loud (both because he doesn't know how to express it and because he hasn't truly realized it), but he likes soft pampering. Kisses along his jaw, massaging his shoulders as you grind on him, anything that makes him sigh and flutter his lashes. For once, it feels nice to just sit back and be doted on.
That doesn't mean he dislikes it when you fully take control, pin his hands over his head, bounce yourself up and down his cock, and rumble out filthy words into his ear. Tell him to just sit there and take it, be a good boy for you, and his chest is heaving.
You swear you've never seen him choke and stammer so much than when you take his cock in your mouth. He's a mess the moment you slip his blacks off and look up at him with that mischievous grin. You keep his hands away from your hair or body and instead urge him to place them over his head or grip onto the sheets-- "Let me have my fun, Hunter."
Edging is a dangerous game with Hunter. If he isn't in the right mind space or physical capacity, it could lead to a sensory overload and he'll have to tap out. But if it works does it work. You have to urge him to keep his thighs and hips from twitching and bucking up into you when you pepper kitten licks over his length and run the tops of your fingers over his balls. You'll never hear him more depraved than when he gasps out "Mesh'la, I'm so-- fuck, please--"
ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip
#two drabbles in one night? look at me go!#nour writes stuff#star wars#the bad batch#tbb#star wars the bad batch#star wars bad batch#star wars fanfiction#star wars fic#star wars fanfic#star wars headcanons#the bad batch fanfiction#the bad batch fic#tbb fanfiction#tbb fic#clone force 99#sw tbb#bad batch#bad batch hunter#hunter bad batch#hunter tbb#hunter x reader#hunter the bad batch#sergeant hunter#tbb hunter#tbb hunter x reader#the bad batch hunter#sw the bad batch#star wars tbb
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“I just came from r/196” ask game
Saw another post. I think I should invite y'all to one of our longstanding traditions. Answer the questions then tag 10 (or more) people. I'll go first.
Name? Call me whatever, just dont call me late to dinner.
Pronouns and gender? he/him Guy
Sexuality? Hetero
Country? USA
Top 5 fandoms? Im into a lot of different things, but i would say im more a casual viewer in general. Some things i used to follow on reddit were gravity falls, AtLA, Pathfinder2e, stranger things, etc.
What is your Most forbidden snack? Probably erasers. Rubber makes good stim.
Would you pet a bug? Depends on the bug, but sure.
Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class. a weird fact about me would be that i have a slight notch in my left ear. Noone knows where it came from. Mom joked she bit my ear as a child. *shrugs*
What does the color blue taste like? The color blue im thinking of probably has a sweet vanilla taste.
What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? My wife on our wedding day. I cried.
What is the stupidest thing you've ever done? I threw lemons at stop signs when i was a kid?
Probably not the stupidest thing, but the easiest one to think of.
Stupidest thing you've seen/heard someone else do/say? I knew someone who used the phrase "don't take the little things for granite"
Hyperfixation song? Probably Death by Melanie Martinez, but honestly the whole Portals album slaps.
Is there any meaning behind your profile picture and/or username? I just yoinked my pic off the internet cuz i like dnd, but the name is dnd related too. I love necromancers, im mexican, i love churros, i like being silly. So i mooshed it all together.
Dream career as a child? Actor.
Dream career as an adult? Sugar baby. I just want to live comfortably with my family and spend time with them and doing odd hobbies..
Thoughts on cilantro? I could take it or leave it.
Have you ever been banned from a location and if so, why? No, never. Ive definitely banned some places from me though.
What is your cursed food combination? I like cheese on my pb&js? I get weird looks for that one at least.
Trans rights? Fuck yea! Be who you are, beautiful people.
@allurasiren @schermit @dyinggoosenoises @happy-peppermint @aphr0dyke @calicostorms @wolfenchant
Sorry if yall have got hit with this already. :P
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A foul-mouthed teacher's take on Gen Alpha
Can we stop saying that gen alpha is DOOMED?! They just fucking got here!
fucksake, they just hit sixth grade. We are registering the warning signs right now; the lack of respect or empathy, the inability to read , the need for instant gratification OR ELSE, and don't get me started on this Sephora bullshit. Yeah, it's looking pretty bad.
The fact is though, we are their skibidi gyatdamn parents! This is our wakeup call to do better. So here's a list of a few things that might improve the situation.
If you've got a younger child, please do not get them on an i-pad until they are at least 4. Even as an educational tool, they are no replacement for the hands-on and interpersonal learning that their developing brain needs. Talk to them, give them blocks and balls and plenty of things that they can safely place in their mouths. These things help them build a deeper understanding of the world that later social skills and academic stuff can anchor to. At pre-school a little supervised and directed exposure to educational programs can be a good supplement, but do not leave them to use screens feely. As they get into middle school, you should still be aware. There are a lot of dangers on there that tweens don't have the experience yet to recognize and it's a lot wierder than you think.
2. On that note, If you must put them in front of the TV (no shame, it has to happen from time to time in this late-stage capitalist hellscape) for the love of fuck, please pay attention to what they are watching! I cannot begin to tell you, as a teacher, what a difference this can make. Don't trust that everything on Nick jr or Disney is your friend no matter how colorful or silly it looks. Watch a couple episodes either on your own or with them to determine if it has substance or if its values are ones you are ready to expose your children to (I was shocked when I sat down to watch the original Thomas the Tank Engine).
I'll do another post on shows I recommend sometime but as a teacher, PLEASE let most of their TV time be PBS Kids. I shit you not, I can tell the difference between the kids that primarily watched Paw Patrol and the kids that watched Dinosaur Train.
For younger kids, violence is a no, for sure; their brains are still developing and no matter how smart they are, a toddler is not prepared to process whatever nuance you as an adult may have the context for. You don't want to normalize it.
The same goes for adult humor. I have had to send too many kids to the office because of a racial slur or sexist comment that they pulled straight from Southpark or Family Guy. That shit should not be happening!
3. From obscure, seemingly cutesie philosophies that turn out to be cults, to the fucking manosphere and any number of hate-groups that have perfected the art of planting-the-seed with kids, you need to keep them off social media, including Tik-tok and Youtube. There are parenting aps that can block these and limit screen time, but even they cannot be used as a "set it and forget it" solution.
4. Failing all of this, the most important thing you can do for your kids may be to actually converse with them. Sit and watch some shows with them, listen to their interests, let them talk your ear off about their favorite game. Normalize them sharing with you and do this as early as possible. The benefits are numerouse
A. It opens up the lines of communication. You can identify trouble a lot faster and support their goals a lot easier when you have this going for you.
B. It establishes early that you are a safe person to share things with. This is invaluable as they get older, and for keeping them safe at any age.
C. It gives them a chance to utilize RECALL PRACTICE. this is an often overlooked brain booster, but recalling information so they can share it with you, actively helps gear their developing brain for future learning by making it easier for them to call on and access information at will.
D. It builds confidence When you take time to listen to them, you are showing them that their input is valuable; that the things that interest them are worth sharing. There may be times when it is not appropriate, and you can guide them on that, but giving them the respect of listening when you can will help them recognize their worth when future "friends", colleagues, and partners consistently dismiss them or shame them for it.
E. It builds socio/emotional intelligence and models respectful dialogue.
5. Read to them and with them. Even if you aren't a reader, listen to audio-books. Give them a chance to practice their reading skills and comprehension. Normalize the idea that reading is enjoyable.
5. Finally, understand this: you are not being an authoritarian when you set rules and enforce them. They are going to test boundaries, not because they are bad, not because they crave a lack of restriction, but because they need to know that they are there in order to feel secure. There are as many new fads for parenting as there are diets, but whatever parenting style you choose, be firm and consistent with your core rules and principles. your kids, and the people who have to interact with them, will be better off for it.
And cut yourself a bit of slack too. Parenting is tricky, and there are new challenges we are having to learn quickly as we go. It doesn't help that our generation caught so much shit, but we cannot simultaneously be parents AND continue to be victims. Seek out support, and give it whenever you can. We have to recognize our worth and our importance to this generation and take a stand now for their well being.
You are their parent and you play a very needed, active role in their lives.
#parenting#gen alpha#gen z#millenials#teacher#education#school#children#kids#parent#family#angry rant#pbs kids#paw patrol#dinosaur train
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