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#i've been so homesick it's insane

poppy-metal · 2 years

Text

Punch Drunk Love!

Summary: You came back to hawkins for one thing and one thing only (or so you think), Eddie munson. Ex boyfriend, the love you left behind and never got over. You want him back. Obstacles? Damn them all.

Pairing: Eddie x reader. Steve x reader. Steddie x reader. Slight Steve x Eddie.

Word count: 18k

Cw: Toxic!reader, kinda codependent relationship dynamics, CHEATING, SMUT 18+. Poly dynamics, mean dom!eddie, soft!dom eddie, handcuffs, switch!steve. Brat!reader, facefucking, creampies, mutual masturbatiom.

A/n: s/o to @snowflakeicicles for basically cowriting this with me <3

Steve groans as their manager sets another box of movies on the counter, telling them they needed to be stocked by the end of the night or they’d be in trouble; he reflects duly on how he and Robin need to get new jobs.

He sighs as he turns towards Robin, already in the process of using a box cutter to tear the thing open.

“What if we just quit? Like totally up and left? Still think that’s an option?” He knows he’s not gonna get the answer he wants when he sees the look she’s giving him and nods, turning again before stopping in his tracks.

“Aye — wait, look,” He beckons her over, voice a whisper yell as he points outside the window, “Is that who I think it is or am I going insane?”

"Quit being a drama queen, your hair will start graying and then what would all the girls of hawkins do? Breathe a sigh of relief, probably, now that i think about it."

robins jest has no bite to it. She just loves to pick at him. The guy really did never stop complaining, you'd think he was a teenage diva and not a twenty something man.

She peeks over her magazine at his words, glancing out the doors. Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.

"That can't be them. It's a mirage."

Inside the car outside you check your pouty red lips in your compact mirror before clapping it shut, pocketing the item and looping your arm through your friends.

Your grin is big and toothy, shiny lips spreading. "I hope we see someone we know — This town hasn't changed a wink, hun, they needed us to spice it up." You bounce on your toes as you enter the store. "Lets get top gun. I miss-"

You pause when you see robin, who you just barely know and Steve harrington. So he really peaked in high-school then? You drop your friend's arm in favor of approaching your former friend and leaning your hip against the counter next to him, already smirking.

"Well, well. I see being prom king didn't do you any favors, harrington. Miss me?"

Steve has to keep himself from sputtering when he sees you, swallowing thickly. Had you gotten even prettier? That was so fucked up.

He rolls his eyes as you saunter towards him, offering a quick wave to your friend before he’s focusing his attention on the girl about to antagonize him.

“Ah, how couldn’t I? You know, my heart ached to let you go, really, I’ve been so lonely without the barrage of insults from my favorite girl.”

He says it dramatically, almost as if he was wounded, clutching his heart — before he’s raising an eyebrow, leaning forward over the counter, “What brings you back, anyway?”

You giggled at steve's dramatics, rolling your eyes and poking his chest.

"You like my insults, stevie. They always kept you humble." You dug in your purse to pull out a juicy fruit, popping one in your mouth as you held another one out to him. This had been your thing in high-school — you offering Steve your gum, or whatever treat you'd had on you.

"Here. I'm here for summer break! I was feeling homesick, ya know? Plus I've seen everything there is to see over there. What's new around here anyway?"

Steve chuckles, watching you pop the gum into your mouth and cursing himself for how his heart races.

You had always been — enchanting would probably be the right word, irritatingly beautiful a better phrase. You're easy to be infatuated with and Steve knows it, but he’d told himself a long time ago he wouldn’t be involved lest you break his heart too.

He nods as he grabs a piece, shrugging while he pops it between his lips, “Homesick for Hawkins? Seems like college is rough on you, then—“

“Oh, not much. Everyone’s still hanging out, you know, the usual — we haven’t been seeing much of Munson, though—“ He pauses before saying his next words, wary to set you off but going ahead anyway, “Fucker got a girlfriend, can you believe it? We never see him anymore.”

You pause mid chew and mid checking out steve's newly defined muscles. Where'd those come from, anyway? your gaze snaps back up to meet his, straightening up.

"Girlfriend. Eddie has a girlfriend? You know what? Don't answer that. I'll find out myself."

Images of eddies skin on yours fill your mind, late nights spent in his trailer, him teaching you how to shot gun, ditching class to kiss in the woods, his reverent brown eyes looking up at you, 'you're it for me, baby.' his words flow through you.

It wasn't your place to be enraged right now. You'd left eddie as soon as you'd gotten accepted into the college of your dreams, refusing to settle in this town, and breaking eddies heart in the process. But they had been soulmates. Sure you'd fucked around since then, but an actual relationship? Going steady? Never.

You were going to kill her. Kill whoever that bitch was and then strangle eddie munson for ever thinking he could replace you when you had always planned to come back for him. Impatient fuck. Over your dead body would be move on.

You turned sharply.

"Stevie, we'll have to talk some time, really. I just need to see something real quick."

Steve blinks, watching your entire demeanor change and realizing that maybe, just maybe, telling you that was the worst idea he’s ever had.

He knew about your and Eddie’s history — hell, everyone did, you were one of the oddest power couples their school had ever had. But when you broke up with him, Eddie was heartbroken, and Steve thought you had completely left the guy in the dust.

Which is why him getting over you seemed like a good thing. At the time.

Steve watches the two girls leave, anger nearly radiating off one of them, and he turns to Robin with his mouth slightly agape, “We should be concerned, shouldn’t we?”

She blinks.

"About what?"

The bells above the door jingle as you walk in, your sweet perfume wafting through the air as you scan the crowd. Your eyes immediately find him. You stand there for a moment just staring.

He looks so different and yet so the same. Dark clothes, dark hair, but his jaw is sharper, he stands with more confidence in his posture. He's at the bar, clearly just done with performing a set, his hair a wild mess, strands sticking to his forehead, grin wild.

your lips part and you start toward him, pausing when some blonde cretin flies in front of you and throws herself onto Eddie. Your Eddie. She squeals and you feel your eye twitch as Eddie's smile goes warm and his arms wrap around the hussy.

The girlfriend. Right. You tap your nails on the bar, loudly enough so they'll both hear and stop being disgusting.

"I see you've finally acquired rockstar groupie status, eds." your eyes flit to the girl when you say groupie. "Congratulations."

Eddie feels like he’s on top of the world. His band has finally started playing more gigs, and he’s finally starting to get noticed. Getting older has given him confidence, and his heart feels like it’s finally on the mend.

Sure, maybe he wasn’t the happiest with his girlfriend — You would always be on the back of his mind, poking at his brain like a thought he just couldn’t shake.

But you had made it clear you didn’t want him anymore, so who was he to deny you? He’d gone through a really rough patch, and so that’s why seeing you feels like he got punched in the gut.

The sight of you makes the whole world fall apart, and suddenly he’s realizing maybe he didn’t do a great job of getting over you.

He coughs, though, offering you a warm smile and a chuckle, even as his girlfriend’s grip gets tighter around him, “Ah, no, this is actually my girlfriend — Stella, Y/n, Y/n, Stella. When did you, uh — when did you get back in town?”

"So I heard."

You barely stop your eyes from rolling, waving down the bartender for a drink. With a strawberry around the rim. When he slides one to you, you turn back to the pair- gag- and pop the berry into your mouth, biting into half of it.

"I got back a few days ago. Stevie told me you got yourself a new girl. Sandra was it?" You knew it was stella. Remembered the girl from high-school as the twat who was always ogling Eddie but running the other direction whenever you'd caught her staring. So she'd made your move, huh? Bitch.

Stella sneered at you as she snuggled closer to Eddie with her leech arms and you hopped onto a barstool, crossing your legs.

"Is this what you've been doing while I was away? I wasn't here for the full set but you look really good, eddie. I remember when it was just those 5 drunks and me at your shows. Good job, babe."

Eddie’s eyes widen as he takes you in, the hand wrapped around Stella’s waist loosening ever-so-slightly the more you lean into him.

Why was he even talking to you? He should go, take Stella and go home and try to not think about the fact that he’s never truly gotten over the girl in front of him. But that’s the coward’s way out.

Stevie. God, he was going to kick Harrington’s ass next time he saw him, “Did he? I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of relationships too, babe.“

Stella glares at you from her place on Eddie’s side, and Eddie wishes he was more oblivious to it than he actually was. Stella had always asked what would happen if you came back — looks like they were going to find out.

He chuckles, a big ringed hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck, “Well, gee, thanks — really, I'm grateful for how we’ve come up the past few months, all of us — what about you, though? Why're you back all of a sudden?”

"Are you the Hawkins border patrol? Maybe I missed the scenery. Or the people."

You say the last part with feeling, meeting eddies dark eyes head on. You move your hair to one side of your neck so the tattoo Eddie had given you your junior year together shows. It's an image of two hearts, connected together by the stem of a rose, the thorns making the hearts bleed. It was supposed to represent how intense you made each other feel. How even though you made each other bleed with want and how you couldn't be apart. No matter what.

"Do you still play D&D? I've actually gotten really good at it. I could probably play a game with you and not even cheat! I'm still chaotic evil, though."

You smile at him, your feet kicking, talking to him like no time has passed and like Stella isn't even there. To you, she isn't.

"You proud?"

“You, missing anything about this place? Sorry, but that’s the biggest bullshit i’ve ever heard."

His heart skips a beat and his words trail off when he sees the tattoo on your neck, bottom lip being pulled between his teeth. He remembers giving you that, remembers telling you it was a symbol that would stay forever, just like he would.

And he did think that. Part of him is angry, wants you to recognize that the fact that they’re not together right now isn’t his fault. But he tries to keep it together stupidly, even as the girl next to him decides to speak up.

“Oh, you play that nerd game, too? He keeps trying to get me to play it and it really doesn’t seem all that fun. He’s so cute when he’s into it, though, huh?”

Eddie’s desperately trying to steer the conversation away from this, because suddenly he’s remembering how truly chaotic evil you are and he knows that you can be a real fucking menace if you want to be.

“And, haha — yeah, ‘course i’m proud, though I doubt you don’t cheat.”

You wince at his tone, hearing the bitterness in it. Your last meeting....hadn't been sunshine and rainbows. You'd left him heartbroken and standing in the rain after a screaming match where you confessed to feeling suffocated by this town. So yeah, you guessed it was stupid to believe he'd fall for your missing this place. You'd missed him, though.

Your eyes glide to stellas with disdain. God, her voice was grating. Like chalk on a chalkboard. Screetchy. "He is, isn't he? Just the cutest."

You take a long sip from your drink, red lips wrapped around your straw more provocative than needed. You hum around the straw and kick your foot out playfully to knock against his shin. You keep your foot there, though, against his ankle. Cry about it, stella.

"Cheating isn't so bad, Eddie, I keep telling you. The sooner you come to the dark side, the better, hm? S'fun over here."

It seems that your last words are enough for Stella and she's letting out a huff, hitting Eddie’s arm with her bag before she stomps away.

“Wait, babe —“ Eddie tries to call after her, sighing as he sees her walk out the door of the bar.

He turns to you with a disappointed look on his face, doe eyes more defeated than angry. He seems like he deflates, rubbing at his temples with one hand. Why do you have to keep doing this to him?

He turns to the bartender, sighing, “Put whatever she gets on my tab. Don’t let her go overboard.”

Then he’s turning to you again, shaking his head and pointing to the door, “I’m — im going to fix — that — and then you’re going to come over later and get all the shit you left at my place, okay?”

His voice nearly cracks but he takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm, “You can’t do that shit, — god.” And then he’s running out of the bar, probably to console the crying girlfriend that had just ran out.

Your baby blue chunky boots clunked up the steps to eddie's trailer. You blew your bubblegum into a bubble as you knocked on his door, popping it as soon as it swung open to reveal the man.

You chewed the juicy fruit and smiled at him sweetly, the guilt you felt for being a cunt earlier all gone. You had a game plan now. You'd make him forgive you. "Hey, eds. M'here to 'get my shit', i think is how you put it?"

You don't wait for his reply, stepping up, knowing your proximity would make him back up, and slip inside the trailer, knowing the way to his room by heart. He still had the same posters, same guitar strung up, same bed frame. And- You smirked, walking forward and holding up his prized handcuffs with one finger.

"You still have these? So sentimental. I missed these things, you know. Who knew people in the city could be so vanilla? Tragic, honestly." You shook the cuffs at him, teasing. You were getting a kick out of frustrating him. It would make it so much better when you made him snap.

He grimaces when he opens the door to his trailer, eyes trailing over you with a tight frown pulling at his lips.

You looked perfect, of course you did — you always fucking did, and he swears it was gonna get the best of him one day. He just hoped it wouldn’t be now.

“Yes, of course, come in, make yourself at home—“ He gestures to the inside of his trailer dramatically, heaving a big sigh as he does.

He follows you throughout the place and rolls his eyes at your comments, arms crossed as his eyes trail over you, “Yeah, Stella likes em too—“ Part of him knows he shouldn’t be saying that, but he swears only you can bring out this vengeful side of him.

“Why're you doing this, huh? Why now?”

You feel your eye twitch like an insane person at the mention of eddie using these with stella, dropping the cuffs like they'd caught on fire with a disdainful look. So he wasn't going to play nice? Neither were you then.

"Isn't it obvious, eddie bear? I want you back." You say it lightly, like it's no big deal. You mean it though, wholly and truly. You move around him again to perch on his bed and cross your legs. "I missed you."

You flick your eyes around the room, almost like you're bored but really because you hate being vulnerable, even now. You wanted him back because you loved him and never stopped but there was a small part of you that feared maybe this wouldn't work. Maybe he'd break your heart this time around.

"Where's all my stuff anyway? Do you have it all in some lockbox you look back to on dark nights when you're all alone and feeling lonely. And horny."

Eddie nods, trying not to let his surprise show. Of course he knew that was the case, but he didn’t expect you to admit it so quickly.

“So what’s your game plan here, then, hm?" His voice is shaky, trying not to think back on how broken he’d felt when you left. How he truly felt like he’d never get you back, “You get to fuck up my heart, leave and come back to me when you’ve had your fill of the city? That it?”

He sees right through you, something that he knows you must realize. That’s why when he walks over to his closet, grabbing a lockbox from the top shelf and setting it in front of you on his desk, he knows the frown on your face is genuine.

“Yeah, actually, I did. Looked at it every night for the past year and cried, barely stopped — you know you can be vulnerable, you know. I see through the joking act.”

You don't like how he's acting. Sure you didn't expect a warm welcome or for him to open his arms for you immediately, but your Eddie had never been mean. Not to you. Not ever. When he sets the lockbox down you frown, scowling really. At him and at yourself. You feel the pinpricks of self hatred that you'd made him cry over you.

But you aren't giving up. "Of course you do. You always knew me so well, eddie. Better than anyone ever could. Better than anyone ever will, probably." Maybe a sentimental and honest approach will work to open him up to you. You can give a little.

Reaching towards the lockbox, you pop open the lid and peer inside, biting your lip as memories wash over you. There's your old pink camera, polaroids you'd taken of them together, some of your jewelry and other knick knacks. your favorite bandanna and one of your pale pink bras with strawberries on them.

You pick up a polaroid you'd taken a while ago of them together at the premiere for a nightmare on elm street. You turn it to him.

"I remember that night. It's when we first started dating. You took my virginity after, remember? In the back of your truck at the drive in. It was the best night of my life."

You frown. "Did you really use the handcuffs on stella, or were you saying that to hurt me?"

He simply stands there for a second, leveling you with a loaded look: eyebrows scrunched together, pouty lips set into a line and doe eyes full of all the hurt he’d buried over the past year.

But he knows that he doesn’t hate you, knows that he never could — and he also knows that it’s killing him to act like he does.

He sighs, slumping down into the chair in the corner of his room and running his hands down his face, “Yes, I remember — I thought you were actually scared of the movie but you wanted to get into my pants; I couldn’t blame you.”

He shakes his head, angry at himself for admitting this to you, “No, shes — not into that stuff. Not like you were.”

She's a lot different than you were, he thinks, visibly distraught. She's worse.

"I was scared! Its not my fault you were all hot and protective."

You almost grin when he admits the truth about stella, but hide it. You know you've got him hooked, the reminder of the past softening him. He won't take your back tonight, not that easily, not that soon, but that's not the objective anyway. Tonight, you just want to remind him of what he's missing, of what he'll continue to miss and never have with stella.

You get up until your in front of him in his chair, leaning forward until your hands grip either side of the armrests, bringing your face close to his.

"I bet she's so plain huh, your stella. I got a good look at her. Seems like the type to scrunch her nose at giving head, clutch her pearls at the thought of all the depraved shit you're into. But not me, right? No, you showed me all the wonderful things you're into, and made me love it. Tell me-"

You walk your fingers up his clothed knee. "-Does she love your body with hers the way i did?"

He knows he should be a strong man and push you off. He should tell you to get your shit and leave, to never come back into his life because all you've done for the past year has hurt him and his heart can’t take it anymore.

That is what he’d do, if he were a strong man. But the first thing Eddie Munson will tell you about himself is that he is one weak willed motherfucker, especially when it comes to the pretty girl standing in front of him.

Which is why he doesn’t push you off, only steels his jaw and turns his head so he isn’t looking directly at you, because maybe if he can act like he was fighting it at first then he won’t feel so guilty later.

“I think you know the answer to that” His voice is strained, like he’s using all of his strength just to stay still in this chair, “She doesn’t — she doesn’t like that type of stuff. And i’m not — I wouldn’t force her into it. She's …she's not like you were. Unfortunately.” aaaand, there he goes, being weak again.

You reach up and turn his jaw so he's looking at you. You don't kiss him, but it's a near thing. Fuck, You want to. You sit on his lap instead. Better.

"My poor baby." You coo with real sympathy. Okay, it's a little mean, because you're still jealous as hell he'd been with stella in ANY way. Kinky or not. "You must be itching to restrain someone to your bed and eat them out till' they cry. Know that always made you cum the hardest. When i couldn't move away from your mouth or your cock."

You stroke a hand down his chest and smile when you feel him harden under you, no doubt thinking about all the times he'd had you naked and cuffed to his bed post.

"I thought about that alot. Those city boys don't know how to fuck like you, you know? Never felt as good as it did with you."

His eyes flick down to your tits and he groans, deep from his throat — why did you insist on testing him like this?

Your mean tone has him looking at you with an unamused glare, halfway torn between angry and horny.

Still, though, his hands settle on your hips, his cock rapidly hardening as he thinks back on all the times he’d tied you up, made you take anything he gave you until you begged for a break. He remembers how pretty you looked with tears running down your face.

God, he’s so supremely fucked.

“Yeah?” His voice is shaky, fingers rubbing smooth circles into your hips, itching to grip onto the skin tyoure like he used to, “Bet they’re all vanilla as fuck, huh? Can’t make you cum like you need.”

You shiver when his fingers start to rub against your hips, your shirt riding up enough he's touching bare skin.

You try to keep your voice steady and cool. "Was so bored I nearly fell asleep everytime." You realize how equally dangerous this situation is for you, underestimating your ability to handle him touching you again. How long before his good conscience came rushing back to him and he tried in vain to refuse this again? You needed to take all you could for the moment.

"Only you can make me cum that hard, baby. Needed to come back for you so I could have it again. Don't you need it too? Need me?"

You knew he did. Felt it in the way he gripped you so hard you'd have marks there tomorrow from his rings. Just how you liked it.

"This doesn't have to be messy."

His hands keep trailing up and down your legs, getting a little closer inside each time. He’s teasing you, the cool metal of his rings probably stinging against your skin. But he knows You like it.

He’s tired of being nice, tired of being good — he could never be mean to you, no, but he could have his fair share of fun torturing you like you seemed to do with him. Again, no one brought out this side of him like you did. And he intends to make the most of it before his better mind came back.

He lets his face fall to bury in your neck, inhaling your scent in one deep breath. Fuck, how had he gone so long without it?

“But you know how much I like it messy.” His voice is almost a growl, tongue coming out from between his lips to lick a stripe up your neck to your earlobe, catching it between his teeth for a moment.

"Eddie..."

You couldn't help but grind down against him, eyes nearly rolling into your skull at how the zipper in his jeans caught against your clit through your pants. His mouth on your neck-

"Jesus, you know what that does to me- you- ah! Not playing fair."

You knew that was a stupid thing to say, like your whole reapperance in hawkins wasn't playing fair. But really, he knew what his tongue on your throat did to you. And when he took your lobe in his mouth and tugged you let out a whimper, sinking into his lap. You knew. You knew how messy he liked it, and you dug your nails into his shoulders as you rocked on his lap.

"Get messy with me then, eds. Fuck me right here, I'll make you forget all about that dumb girlfriend of yours."

He can’t help but smirk against your skin, knowing that licking you always worked like a charm. It was one of the things he loved most about you, how sensitive you were.

“Yeah? Gonna let me make a mess of you right here, angel? How fucking dirty.”

He says it condescendingly, voice honey-sweet, hips thrusting up to grind against your cunt through your pretty panties. His hand slips down to rub at your clit, the other gripping your hair to bare your neck for him.

“You want my cock so bad? Get it yourself, princess. I’m havin’ fun here.” He snarls it against your neck, biting down right into the skin of your stick and poke.

You bite your lip as he taunts you, melting into him. God, You wanted him. You wanted him to fuck your right here on his bed, the bed he'd probably taken stella to, since you'd been gone. You wanted to erase any trace of that bitch from eddies person.

You felt the toxic possessiveness and jealousy overcome you, overriding your sentimental heart and the need to just be with eddie in the moment. You felt vengeful even though you didn't have a right to be, the thought that eddie had tried to forget you, had kissed and touched someone else was driving you insane.

Pushing off his lap, you sunk to your knees, quickly unbuckling his belt and yanking it from its loops, tugging him out and giving that fat fucking cock you'd missed one long stroke. You stared up at him as you let your tongue flick over his weeping slit.

"This is mine." You kiss his pink tipped head, knowing that'd make him lost in the sensation. When he was distracted, You moved your other hand until you found your camera. You gripped the chunky item and sneakily snapped a picture of you ,unmistakable, with eddies cock splitting your lips.

He was too lost in your mouth to notice you putting the camera away, slipping the polaroid under the sheets in his mattress. Stella was the insecure type. She'd search his room at every opportunity for evidence of him with someone else. And she'd have a nice surprise when she came over later.

You moaned lewdly around eddies cock, drooling over it as you pulled off, spit connecting from your lips to his cockhead.

"Want you to cum down my throat so bad. You'll give me that, yeah? For old times sake."

He swears the entire world melts around him the second you've got your hand on his cock. He’d missed it so much, missed your slender fingers pumping him until he spilled all over your face. Or your tits. Or your cunt — wherever he felt like that day, really.

His head rolls back in a groan when you kiss his head — that’d always been a sensitive area for him, one that sent shivers down his spine. You were evil to use it, but fuck did it feel good.

“God, you look so pretty with a cock shutting you up — my cock, jesus—“ Hes moaning, hips thrusting shallowly into your mouth. He’d throat trained you for a reason.

“You gonna make me?” He says it like a challenge, the grip on your hair tight. “Make me think you deserve it.”

your cunt throbbed at his words. Eddie always had a filthy mouth, and it never failed to make you leak down your thighs. Him being rarely mean with his words was a treat too. You wondered what his reaction would be when he found out you'd just ruined his relationship. your masochistic pussy just got wetter at the thought.

"You know i can make you do anything." You preened, licking the underside of his cock like hard candy, sucking your lips lovingly down the veins on his shaft. One of your hands came up to card your fingers through the hair at his pelvis. "C'mon, eddie. Give me what i want, shoot that load you've been savin' up just for me down my throat and make me choke on it."

You also knew your filthy mouth got him as wound up as his did to you. You sealed your lips around him and eagerly sunk your mouth all the way down, until your nose was touching his bush.

As much as he hates it, your words go straight to his cock — he always liked that you had a bit of bite to you, that you never backed down when he was mean — because you knew he never meant it.

The second you take him all the way in he’s letting out a choked off moan, his eyes nearly rolling back. One big hand comes down to tangle in your hair, pressing against the back of your head to keep you there.

“Breathe, angel, yeah, through your nose like I taught you — fuck, don’t even know how much I m-missed this,” Hes rambling, the sensation of you swallowing around his cock making his brain melt.

“Think of this all the time — think of this perfect fuckin’ mouth, just made to be filled with my cock. Shit.” He cursed at the fact that he was already getting close, the tension from the night building up.

your eyes teared up as your throat spasmed around his fat cock stuffing your throat. His words made your toes curl in your boots and you started to breathe through your nose like he taught you.

your gag reflex protested but you fought through it, cheeks now stained with your tears, eyes watery and wet and eyeliner dripping all over as you peered up at him.

You used your other free hand to tug on his heavy balls, gurgling around the girth in your flexing throat as you massaged the soft flesh in your palm lovingly.

You needed his cum, would not move from this spot until you got it. Your tender throat screamed for release but that just made you widen your jaw even harder, more determined to take his hot cum straight down the closer you got to truly choking. Spit was spilling from your split lips around him, and you felt his sack tighten in your hand as his orgasm came over him.

You could have tap danced with happiness.

The sight of you peering up at him through wet, makeup drenched lashes is what sends him over the edge, hissing as he feels his balls tighten up.

His load is thick, bigger than usual — he was ashamed to admit that Stella never made him cum hard, not the way you could. Wouldn’t tell you that the reason they didn’t have sex much was because he wasn’t into her and was always thinking of you.

He grins when it spills a bit around your lips, his grip on your hair loosening even as he’s still babbling, “Shit, fuck — so fucking good, god. Fucking perfect, needed you so bad, missed you so bad. God.”

You swallow around him easily, like you were born to do it, pulling back to place a kiss on his softening head. You lick your lips of the remnants of him and smile up at him from your place on your knees.

"You needed that bad, didn't you baby?" You can see your time running out. As his labored breathing steadies, the lust in his eyes turning wide with guilt already.

You run your palms up his slack legs, your smile sad now, for a lot of reasons. Eddie thought he had a relationship to go back to after this, but he'd soon realize he didn't. Working through his reaction to that particular betrayal would be another hurtle you had to jump over, but it was necessary. He'd see it all soon, when they were together again. He always loved how insane you were.

"Feeling like a shitty boyfriend at the moment, i take it?"

As he comes down from his high, chest heaving and the adrenaline leaving his body, he feels a massive pit in his stomach when he looks down at the girl between his legs.

He can’t push you away — feels like it would be ungentlemanly to tell you to get off and out of his life after you’d just sucked the soul out of him. But he couldn’t keep doing this; he knew it.

“Sweetheart, I…” He sighs, running a hand through now slick with sweat bangs, “We never should’ve done that. I — I shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have let you.”

“I’m — i’m sorry,” He has no fucking clue why he’s apologizing, just knows it’s forcing it’s way out of him, “But I can’t keep doing …this with you. It’s not fair to her. I think.. you shouldn't come back here for awhile. Not until i think things through."

You just smile serenely and nod. There wouldn't be time. You were working on your schedule, not his.

He'd find out soon.

Steve had otherwise forgotten about your…less than happy reaction to Eddie’s newfound romance, which is why the sound of someone pounding at his door has him jumping in his seat and furrowing his brows.

He swears he’s gonna cuss the kids out if they came to bother him on the one day he told them not to—oh. It isn’t them.

He’s greeted with the sight of a smiling you, already making your way inside, a bag of McDonald’s in your hand as you do.

“Um — hello? Can I ask why you’re infiltrating my house, now?” He pretends to be bothered, but the lilt in his tone betrays him.

You sigh dramatically, breezing by him and dropping your McDonald's on his kitchen counter. The thing about having rich parents was that they were rarely home.

"You can ask but I won't answer. Listen- woah. When did you learn how to dress?" You lower your blue tinted sunglasses to get a good look at him. "I mean, you are looking really, really good right now. Are you sure you're single? Still looking?"

You grin and pop a fry into your mouth, offering him one as you lounge on his plush couch and kick your feet.

"Stevie, I've done something bad, i fear. I need to clear my conscience so I can go back to being hot and uncaring."

He squints at you, perching himself on the arm of the couch as he does. You’d always come in here like you owned the place, and it’s not like his parents were ever home to care, so it became kind of routine.

He gives you a look as he grabs the fry from you, chewing it slowly. He’s looking at you like you're suspicious, which you are, and he raises a brow.

“What did you do now? Did you slit someone’s tires again? You know I can’t bail you out of that twice, right?”

He probably could, but you didn’t have to know that.

"That was one time, Steve, and they deserved it. Fuck Debra to this day."

You jab a fry at him before eating it. You wiggle your toes in your flats as you sigh, getting serious. You did feel slightly bad, not for stella, fuck her, but for the pain your actions were about to cause eddie.

"I went to see eddie. Met his new girlfriend. Stella, really? You let that happen? Anyway, he asked me to come pick up my stuff and yada yada i gave him head. The BAD part is that i may have, unbeknownst to him, taken a picture of said act and left it for dear old stella to find."

When you say it out loud it sounds really bad. You know it does. Ugh. "But it's all for the greater good! Eddie doesn't even like stella. You get it right? I mean you see why i had to?"

He holds his hands up, shaking his head.

“Fuck did you want me to do? He seemed real fuckin’ determined to get over you, so I just let him do whatever the fuck he wanted! You made it sound like you were never coming back!”

He’s content to sit there and listen, fry halfway to his mouth when you drop the bomb on him and he coughs on it, looking at you like you’ve gone insane.

“Jesus christ, you really are a psycho —“ He doesn’t want to unpack why he thinks that’s kind of (very) hot, instead sighing.

“So like, what’s the game plan now? You know he’s gonna be, like, mega pissed, right?”

"Well you shouldn't have let him! Of course i was coming back. I just needed a breather from this wacko town, full offense."

You huff and pout at his admonishment knowing he's right but always hating being scolded. He called you a brat. You called it 'dont call me out and we'll all be fine'.

"I know he'll be mad. I just really needed to get him and stella apart, the rest will just....happen, you know. Like fate."

You peer up at him with your puppy dog eyes, knowing their effect on him. He used to have a thing for you, You wonder if he still does. And if you can use it.

"Don't look at me like that, stevie. He's mine. I don't share or play fair, you know that. You've become so moral all the sudden, s'kinda hot. A little annoying, but hot."

“God, you’re such a brat, you know that? Couldn’t even let the fucker figure it out for himself?” He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes when he sees your puppy dog eyes, so round and big and — shit.

He knew how Eddie felt, he really did — Steve had always had kind of a thing for you, was really confused and pretty annoyed when you got with Eddie, but he pushed it away because you both were happy.

But he remembers the summer when you left, him and Eddie both heartbroken. They’d bonded over it and one thing led to another and — it doesn’t matter now, they never talked about it again, but for a good month or so, they used each other to forget. But it was always focused on thinking of you.

“You’re so lucky I like you, yanno that?” He groans, grabbing another fry. “You play dirty.”

Him calling you a brat made you shiver a little. Maybe you always liked it when Steve lectured you, he did get all hot when he was stern, anyway. Before eddie, you'd spent more than a few nights with your hand between your legs, thinking about him. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

"And you're lucky not to be on my bad side, harrington." You prop your feet up on the table in front of his couch, your long legs extending. "The things I'd do to you if you ever crossed me would make you shake in your loafers."

You trusted him though. He'd always been a constant in your life, even at your worst. You appreciate him even though you were terrible at showing it.

"Why do you like me, anyway? As far as besties go, robin has me beat i think."

He rolls his eyes, faking a shiver, “Oh, i’m sooo scared, the little girl’s gonna hurt me, oh nooooo.”

He can’t help but chuckle at the glare you send his way, though your question has him shrugging while he pops a nugget in his mouth.

“Eh, you and Robin are different — she's more of like, a bro, you know? We talk about girls and everything under the sun. You’re…”

He pauses, trying to figure out where he’s going with this before he keeps talking, trying not to stammer.

“We’ve been friends forever — no matter how much I want you dead sometimes, you’re always there for me. And — I mean, okay, you’re pretty easy on the eyes, can you blame me?”

You don't know why hearing that makes you so happy. Okay, yes you do. You were a possessive person and you liked knowing you had a special place in his heart just for you. It made you all fuzzy inside.

"Is this you admitting you have a crush on me, stevie?" You lean up so you're crowding in his space, grinning at him with your candy apple lipgloss shining. You like teasing him. The king of hawkins high could never handle you being this close to him.

He always pulled back. Blushed and rolled his eyes or said something snarky when you went too far and you two settled back into their routine. Even when you'd been dating eddie and were fully committed and faithful you couldn't resist pushing his buttons sometimes. He just made it so easy.

"If i wasn't so focused on eddie, I'd probably kiss you. But I don't want your pretty head on a stake, he doesn't show it outwardly, but he's the jealous type too."

You say this unaware of the current relationship between the two men. After all, the last time you'd been in hawkins they barely tolerated each other. Eddie hated how preppy your friend was and Steve hated that you were taken by the town outcast.

Steve rolls his eyes, the trademark blush spreading across his cheeks as he looks to you, but this time, he decides maybe he won’t push you off.

“And what if I said I did, hm? What then,?” He doesn’t know what had come over him, but you didn’t know how much he’d changed over the past year and a half. And he intends to let you find out.

He leans forward, eyebrow raised, the tone he speaks in almost a challenge, “Why don’t you then, hm? Can’t pretend you don’t want it.”

At the mention of Eddie he just scoffs, unable to stop the smirk that curves his lips, entirely reminiscent of the old him. The cocky one, “Wanna know a secret? I don’t think he’d care at all — in fact, I think he’d like it.”

You blink, instinctively pulling back when he pushes forward. Your eyes go doe eyed when he actually rises to your challenge. Huh, so maybe there was something to his game after all. Who'd have thought.

"I will. You're cocky now because i'm not but the second i do, you'll be lecturing me again. Don't dare me."

your eyebrows pull together at his last comment, pausing where you'd been in the process of leaning back in. He was definitely implying something with that, especially with that look on his face. Like he knew something you didn't.

"What does that mean? I mean, i know eddies bisexual but he like, detested you in high-school. Would definitely wring your neck if he knew about that super mega ultra crush you had on me."

He nearly folds at the sight of your doe eyes, knowing he’s caught you off guard — the old Steve might have been cocky, but he wouldn’t mess with someone’s girl.

But now he knew that someone was actually quite enthusiastic about the proposition.

Steve only laughs, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back against the arm of the couch, “What makes you think he doesn’t already know? That we haven’t…worked out our differences? Hm?”

He's being vague on purpose, waiting for you to take the bait and wanting to keep you on the hook. It was almost addicting to do, see the way your face changed and got so adorably confused.

"Worked out your...."

Your eyes go saucer wide, realization dawning. You feel many things at once. Shock. Jealousy. Anger. Possessiveness. Mostly You're just intrigued.

"You and eddie? Together? When? How?" You leaned forward even more eagerly, gripping onto the lapels of his jean jacket so he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. "Tell me everything right now harrington or i swear to god, ill- ill do something crazy. You know i will."

You wanted every single detail too. Felt yourself get warm between the legs at the mere thought of your soulmate and your best friend...being intimate like that.

He laughs again when you grip onto his lapels, shaking his head and gripping your hands, lightly taking them off to place on your lap.

“Be a good girl for once and keep them there and maybe i’ll tell you everything, hm? Thank you.”

He rolls his eyes dramatically, sitting back against the couch and tapping his fingers against the arm, “What do you want me to tell you? We both missed you and got high, one thing led to another and — well, his rings feel really good when he’s jerking me off. What’s so wrong about that?”

Alright, when did steve get good at seduction? You weren't stupid. He'd been popular for a reason, You just. You'd never had it turned on you like this. It was making you feel funny.

You frowned as you realized you were actually doing as he instructed, keeping your hands on your lap as you looked at him eagerly.

Your lips parted as the image he painted went through your head. Both of the most important men in your life, high and missing you, turning to each other. Eddies hands on Steve's....

"Eddie's seen your cock?" You didn't know who you were jealous of. Eddie for touching Steve, or Steve for being touched by eddie. You squirmed in place glancing at his crotch. "No fair. Of course there's something wrong about it. I wasn't there! I can't believe you-" you blurted then paused. "You missed me? Really? Enough to....do that?"

Did they do more? Did they jerk off to pictures of you? Did they blow each other thinking about your mouth? You were going insane here. "Steve, i hate you. Im gonna kill you. Boyfriend stealer. Hussy. Let me see your dick now, its only fair."

Steve can’t stop the grin eating at his lips even as he tries to stay serious, the sight of you actually being good sending him on a power trip. It’s slightly worrying.

“Yeah, he’s seen it — done a lot with it, actually, but I feel like he should tell you that.” Steve smirks at you from his place on the couch, trying not to think about the fact that his cock is absolutely hardening through his jeans.

“Yeah. Let him fuck my mouth whenever he missed yours, let him talk about how much he loved you — honestly, super unhealthy, but it was really hot,” He’s not even rambling, specifically picking certain instances to tell you, ones he knew would rule your up.

“I’m a boyfriend stealer?! You’re the one who left! I missed you too, you know,” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Then he’s intrigued again, smirking as he spreads his legs and gestures to his crotch, “Take it out, then, princess. Work for it.”

The thought of eddie using steve's mouth when he missed yours is almost too much. Like a wire snaps in your brain and you're wrenching forward to unbuckle steves belt, snapping open his buttons and jerking your hand through the opening slit in his boxers, not bothering to pull him fully out, closing your eyes and letting the feel of his full and heavy cock fill your hand.

Eddie had felt this weight, had stroked and licked and jerked this cock off. You felt a little mad, glaring at steve because fuck him for one upping you and pulling the rug out from under you like that with that reveal.

"Oh, you missed me, huh." You gripped the hard length in your hand tight, almost punishingly. "It was about me, huh? Sure you didn't just like how pretty my boyfriend looked, stevie? Kinda starting to wonder why i even bothered to come back."

You stroked up once and paused, squeezing again. "Do you even really like me or are you just a slut for any pretty face with big big eyes? Be honest."

He’ll admit he doesn’t expect you to just — go for it and pull his cock out, a long groan falling past his lips while his hips buck up to meet your touch.

Fuck. You really didn’t hold back; he breathes deeply, through his nose in a way that makes him calm, while he tries not to bust in your hand immediately.

This is what he and Eddie had talked about for countless nights, and Steve thought he’d never get to actually feel it, and now it was actually happening — fuck.

“Yes, it was about you, you fucking — god, you brat,” He groans, a hand combing through his hair as he thrusts his hips tentatively, “M’not a — fuck, not a slut. S’not my fault he’s stupidly fucking pretty. And horny.”

"M'not a brat. And you are a slut. Both of you are- I'll take care of eddie later but you-"

You stroke your hand back down to his thick base, feeling the veins in his cock literally pulse in your hand. Eddie was thick and fat, but Steve was long and girthy. You felt your hand settle against the mess of hair at his pelvis as you gripped him, barely fitting your hand around him.

"-Need to deal with you being naughty first. Didn't know you had it in you to be such a harlot, harrington. Letting my eddie use your mouth like it was my pussy. Did you talk about that, too? Did eddie tell you about how tight and wet i am?"

Steve was so pretty really. In a soft kind of way, the baby fat around his face had never really gone away and it made his expression soft and sweet as he blushed. His styled hair was a mess from his hand running through it, and you shoved your free hand up his shirt to drag it up his stomach, salivating at his bare skin, his hairy chest.

"Such slutty boys. What am i gonna do with you, huh? Am i supposed to let you cum after you went behind my back like that? Tell me what im supposed to do. Hm?"

Steve groans again, this time at how pretty your manicured fingers look barely being able to wrap around his dick. He wishes your words didn’t go straight to his twitching cock.

He let’s out a choked moan, pre-cum beading on his tip now, “I’m — fuck, we didn’t go behind your back! We just — we both missed you so much, and I wanted to know what you felt like, even if it was — shit, through him.”

He groans again, eyes focused down on you. He feels dizzy, and he thinks back to when Eddie would tell him you were insane in bed — in a hot way. He sees it now.

“I — I think you should let me cum. I’ve — fuck, i’ve been wishing for it for so long, only feels — hah — fair.”

"Hmm."

You pretend to contemplate his pleas as you lazily work his cock. your other hand idly runs through the hair on his chest, flicking over one of his dusty nipples just to feel him jerk in your fist. "I can feel you leaking all over my hand, you know? Messy and slutty. Are you sure you haven't cum already? No? Well I've gotten kind of bored so....."

You release his dick with a smile, even though inside you mourn the loss of him in your hand. You want him. Bad. In your mouth. In your cunt. But you're still pissed. You won't admit it's mostly at yourself, though. You wanted to be there, between them. Instead you'd been states away.

You lean back against his couch, bringing one of your legs up and pressing your foot into his chest. "Stay there."

You slide a hand down your skirt, scrunching it up until your lace blue panties are in view.

"You don't mind, do you? You can't put those kinds of thoughts in my head. I have to make myself cum now, all over your couch. You can watch, but don't touch. Slutty boys don't get to touch me."

He doesn’t know why he’s not just using his strength to take what he wants — he knows he could, could easily overpower you and you’d probably like it.

But this is — fun, oddly, something he didn’t realize he’d like. With all the other girls he’d been with he had to play the overly dominant, masculine role, which he didn’t mind, all things considered.

But with you it’s different, something about letting you think you have control getting him hot under the collar. You know him, his tendencies, his true self. It makes him more comfortable.

He swears he’s salivating when he sees your panties, swallowing thickly.

“You’re — fuck, baby, you’re kidding, right? Let me — fuck, let me touch myself too, please? Need it real bad.”

You tugs the lace to the side, running your finger up your wet slit until you circle your tight little bud.

Your foot presses harder into Steve's chest. He's solid muscle there and it annoys the fuck out of you. He's so buff he could literally toss your thighs apart like a ragdoll and shove his cock between your legs before you could even blink. But he won't.

"I don't know....my feelings are hurt, stevie. My two favorite men in the world, having each other while I had no one. S'kinda mean, don't you think? How would you make it up to me?"

You pant as you sink a finger into your hole, your walls milking around your digit eagerly. He looks so hot, panting over there like a dog in heat at the sight of you playing with your pussy. You feel slick drip down your thighs, definitely gonna leave a wet spot on his couch, you think.

"Touch yourself. Stroke that big cock and tell me how you'd make it up to her-" You plunge your finger deeper, the sticky squelch filling the room. "-My cunt. Tell me how you'd make her forgive you."

He lets out a huff, settling back against the couch and wondering why in the hell he’s letting you do this.

“How would I — you w-werent even here! You chose to leave, we were just —“ He lets out a deep breath, “Honoring your memory. Yknow?”

His cock is hot and hard when he finally grabs it, mouth agape while he watches you fuck yourself. He wishes it was him.

“Wanna—“ He’s trying not to stammer, even though suddenly his mouth feels much drier than normal. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, soft moans slipping past his lips as he strokes his cock, “Wanna rub the head over your pretty clit, wanna fuck you so deep you cry, wanna — shit — wanna paint your insides white, cum on you and smear it i-in.”

You shake your head, refusing to talk more about it. It would only end up making you actually upset. And you couldn't admit to Steve you were only so angry because you missed them both so much and felt so guilty for leaving it hurt that they had each other without you. Even if it was also kinda hot.

"Whatever. Shut up and jerk off."

Your cunt clenches around your fingers at his stream of dirty talk, your eyes hazy as you watch his hand move over his cock. Lips parted and clit throbbing as you humped down onto your hand, whining loudly, unable to help yourself.

"Of course you wanna make me cry. Always bullyin you', bet you wanna- wanna take it out on my cunt. I-i'd let you, maybe. You're so easy to push around i don't know if you can- can take what you want."

God, this is getting you so hot. You're soaking your hand, struggling to keep your eyes open so You can see when steve paints his chest with cum. You feel your hole clench and gasp as you cum, shaking through it, pussy convulsing around your thrusting fingers, slippery with the rush of slick.

"Oh god- S-steve, fuck. Feels so good. Wanna see you cum. Do it, do it now."

Didnt have to tell him twice. He’s groaning as he fucks into his hand, bringing it up to spit into the palm before he’s fucking his cock into his fist again, the sounds wet and lewd.

“Y-yeah? Shouldn’t test me, you know — just ‘cause I like bein’ pushed around sometimes doesn’t mean I won’t — fuck, doesn’t mean I won’t tear that little cunt apart.”

Hes embarrassed by how quickly he’s going to cum, but you're so fucking hot and getting him so hot that he can’t help it. He reaches another hand down to fondle his balls and that’s what pushes him over the edge.

The loud groan that comes from his throat is choked, eyes trained on your pretty cunt and how you look so hot when you cum. He gets an idea suddenly and points his cock down and, instead of at his chest, his cum sprays against your pussy. He moans at how each spurt coats your folds white.

“F-fuck, knew You’d look so pretty covered in cum. God.”

You giggle dazedly as you smear the sticky white fluid into your cunt. The rush overtaking you, as you sag against his cushions. You blink up at the ceiling, biting your lip suddenly.

What does this mean for you and eddie?

He’s angry. No, he’s so beyond fucking angry — what the fuck was your deal?

Eddie swore to god he’d had his entire room torn apart by the time he woke up, an angry Stella screaming at him while she'd stood in one of his shirts.

Itd taken him a second to actually wake up to see what she was yelling about, and by the time he’d woken up enough to figure it out she was already gone, telling him to go fuck himself and that they were over.

He grimaced, eyes flicking to the object of all this anger and tilting his head when it finally came into view, eyes narrowing.

That sneaky little minx.

He quickly got up and grabbed a few things from his room, stuffing them in his bag and shaking his head as he stormed to his van, slamming every door that was in his way.

It's like he gets there in a flash, peeling into your driveway and using the old key he’d locked away to get into your house. Your parents weren’t home, they never were, which makes it easy for him to stomp up to your room, boots heavy and loud on your stairs.

He slams your door open, eyes narrowing as he shoves the picture you’d hidden in your face, his chest heaving with all of his anger, “Are you fucking insane? What the fuck is this? Quickly.”

You'd been in your room laying on your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet as you flipped through a magazine. The slam of your house door and the subsequent thundering footsteps had you rising to your knees in surprise, eyes wide when your door flung open to reveal eddie.

You thought you'd seen him angry before. You'd been wrong. You actually felt fear for a split second as he stormed to you, before he was thrusting the picture in your face and you realized why he was here. You relaxed a little.

"Oh, that." You pretended to look at it like you didn't already know what was exactly on it, getting up and walking to your large vanity to check your hair. You were actually nervous, but you were attempting to hide it with sarcasm. "You were there, eddie, i think you know what it is."

You turned to face him with your hip rested against your vanity, tube of watermelon lip gloss in hand. "Or is it the concept of a blowjob you're confused about?" You calmly applied a layer of gloss against your lips, capping the tube with a loud 'snick' in the deadly silence of the room.

"Funny considering you'd been getting quite a few of those from Steve, i hear. What's one more from me?"

Eddie blinks, chest still heaving as he considers you. You were trying to get under his skin, clearly, and if he was stronger, he wouldn’t let it affect him.

It's been established that Eddie Munson is not a strong man, though, and his cheeks flare as a renewed sense of irritation flows through him. Harrington told you; of fucking course.

“Whatever I do with Steve — or anyone, quite frankly, is none of your fucking business, sweetheart, because as I understand it, you. left. me.” He punctuates his words with steps towards you, relishing in the fact that you're caged against your vanity now.

He peers down at you, making it so you have to crane your neck to see him. He feels powerful. It’s almost addicting.

“What’s your game plan now, huh? Stella's gone, wants nothing to do with me. So what’s your big plan? Or did you not fucking think beyond fucking me over?”

Your mouth twists, not liking him bringing up the fact that he doesn't belong to you. He would soon.

"Wrong. Everything you do is my business. Always has been, always will be."

You falter just slightly as he corners you, your back digging into your vanity. You feel trapped in a way you're not used to feeling. And you can sense how unhinged he's feeling now.

"My game plan....Stella was just collateral damage, eddie. My game plan has always been to come back to you. I was never gonna be gone forever."

You soften your voice and your eyes, leaning up to wrap your arms around your neck. "We can be together now. Just like old times, yeah?"

You hadn't planned on having this confrontation now. You would have planned better if you knew. Most importantly, you'd have made sure the cum soaked, ruined panties you'd left with at steves weren't hanging on the chair of your vanity. It wasn't like you even planned to do that with steve. It was just the heat of the moment. But for some reason you hadn't wanted to wash them immediately, so you left them there as a dirty reminder for awhile.

You register the moment eddie sees them and feel all your confidence slip away. Oh no.

He’s seething, he swears he is. Every breath he takes is labored, like he’s holding himself back from doing something — what, he doesn’t know.

But it’s evident it’s not going away anytime soon when his eyes flick to the chair next to them and he sees cum ruined panties —male, cum ruined panties, not something you could do on your own. And he has an inkling of whose cum it could be.

He grips your arms and unhooks them from his neck, sets them at your side and gives you a scathing look, like he dares you to try again. You don't.

He reaches out to hook the wet piece of fabric around his finger, bringing it over to hold in front of your face and raises his eyebrows.

“Fuck is this, then, hm?” His tone is clipped, short, reminiscent of the calm before an intense storm, “I do encourage you to be honest with me, so let me rephrase — whose cum is this? If everything i do is your business, everything you do is mine.”

It's strange to feel powerless. You'd felt in control every step of the way since your return to hawkins. In control in eddies trailer, in control at steves house. But now, with your own actions being thrown in your face with no way to back out you balk.

Hello consequences, nice to meet you. You're faced with the very real possibility that depending on how you respond, you could lose not only eddie. But Steve as well.

"Steve's." Your voice is honest and soft. Because he's right. It is his business. That's how they worked. "He told me what happened between you two after i left and- one thing led to another-"

your bottom lip trembles a little, but you won't cry. You can be a big girl and face the music. The very scary, hot music.

"I got turned on. And jealous. And sad. I don't know how it happened, I just wanted him to tell me everything. And then he started talking about how you used eachother to remember me....please dont hate me."

You really would do anything for his forgiveness. You just hoped You hadn't pushed too far this time.

He nods, letting go of a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. He calms down, if only slightly, because at least you're being honest.

He nods along with your words, big hands and long fingers tapping along your hips as he does. It’s not for your pleasure, but more for his amusement.

“Fucking Harrington — whatever, i’ll deal with him later,” And that’ll also probably end in sex, he thinks, because Steve is nothing if not a fucking minx.

“But right now, i’m dealing with you,” He looks down his nose at you, pointing. “What to do with you, hm? You betrayed me, baby, you really did, but I could never hate you. It’s my own fault. But I can torture you. In my own way.”

He pauses, letting you anticipate things for a moment before he’s gripping your hips and tossing you on your bed, fishing in the bag he’d thrown on the floor. Bingo.

He grabs his handcuffs, already starting the process of cuffing you to your headboard, “Tell me if it’s too tight.” He was mad, but he wasn’t trying to hurt you.

"Don't deal with him without m-" You zipped your lips on second thought, thinking you'd dug your grave enough tonight.

You squeak like a mouse when he picks you up and tosses you onto your bed, bouncing on it as you stare up at him in anticipation and fear and trust all combined. Those stupid cuffs make your thighs clench immediately, cunt remembering what they meant.

"N-no they're fine." Your voice is meek. Docile. You haven't used it in almost two years because it had only ever been reserved for eddie. Only he saw this side of you, steve had seen a small glimpse, but this was your submitting wholly.

You tugged on the cuffs to test their strength and found them strong. You were officially at his mercy. You squirmed on the bed and gave him your best doe eyes.

"What're you going to do to me...." You paused and then added. "....Sir."

You were genuinely curious and a little worried. Torture could mean anything from making your cum so hard you wished you could stop, or him not letting your cum until you cried. Or even worse. Making your talk about feelings.

He smirks down at you, the show of submissiveness making his cock twitch in his jeans. He may be mad, but he was always able to appreciate how hot you were when you let yourself be a good girl.

“I don’t know yet, angel…” He shrugs, shaking his head as he paces in front of your bed, intending to make you as nervous as possible.

“What do you think, hm? Think you’ve been a good enough girl that you deserve for me to make you feel good?” His tone is condescending, almost mocking, but honey sweet.

“Actually—“ He laughs, clapping his hands together like he’d just figured out what he’s going to do, “I know just the thing.”

He’s descending on the bed then, grinning to himself as he hovers over you, “I’m going to do whatever I want to this little cunt until you’re crying —“ He pats your pussy through your jeans, “And youre going to tell me why you decided to cause so much trouble. If you stop, I stop. Capiche?”

Your eyes nearly roll back into your skull. He was so hot when he got a little mean. Something about him actually meaning it this time was gonna drive you insane. You didn't know how you'd live through this physically without opening a third eye or reaching a higher state of being or something.

The whimper you let out when he patted your cunt through the fabric of your jeans was obscene. Even as panic laced through your at this other words, fuck. You were hoping he'd skip over the whole admitting to deep feelings part and just fuck your stupid.

Consequences. Right.

"O-okay." You peered up at him through your lashes as he leaned over you, his dark hair framing his face making him look like some fallen angel. "I understand, sir."

You try to start explaining from the start but don't know how. You're sweaty and horny and nervous all at once, twisting helplessly in the cuffs as he looks down at you.

"I-i just. W-wanted you back. That's the truth, i promise! Just hated this town n wanted a breather. Wanted to find myself....d-didnt mean to hurt you so bad. Missed you so much..."

He nods along with your words, practically ripping your jeans off as he does. He’s desperate, more than you realized.

Suddenly he’s cursing the fact that he always has to wear so much fucking stuff, groaning as he unbuttons his pants and discards them somewhere on your floor. It takes too fucking long if you ask him.

“Duly noted,” He comments, quickly removing his rings and setting them on his desk before he’s pressing two fingers to your mouth, ordering you to “suck”.

Once he’s satisfied he’s putting them both inside you at once, scissoring them in and out and narrowing his eyes when he realizes you're not talking anymore.

His fingers stop, and he lifts his head to meet your eye, “Okay? I didn’t tell you to stop talking — go on or you get less prep, too.”

Your body jerks down the bed as he yanks your jeans down, the cuffs biting into your wrists. The motion sends the chain necklace hidden under your top flying out against your chest, the glinting promise ring he'd given your years ago flashing.

You gasp wetly when he coldly sets his rings aside before your lips are wrapping eagerly around his digits, whining when he pulls them out, your legs widening on instinct for him as he plunges them inside you. You're embarrassed at how wet and slick you are, the sting of being stretched so suddenly only making your moan.

Thighs trembling when he stops. You try desperately to collect your thoughts enough to speak, wanting to be good for him so he forgives you. You'd take his cock now anyway, with barely any prep just to feel the burn of him filling you again, but you want to give him what he wants. Even if its hard for you.

"M-missed you every day i was away. I-I wanted to leave with us still together, wanted t-to become something and then come back for you....but i w-was stubborn and couldn't talk to you like a grown up, couldn't tell you i wanted to get married one day and have babies and be gross- uhhh- so i made you hate me instead, m'sorry."

You hump your hips down on his hand, trying to make him move, tears already collecting on your lashline because you just want him inside you already. You missed him. Missed his cock. It was yours, he was yours.

"Please- didn't mean to hurt you. Please, i just love you, love you so much."

He hates how quickly he folds for you — he’s starting to accept the fact that, where you were involved, he would never be a strong man. And maybe that’s okay.

He sighs to himself, already leaning forward so he can pump his fingers in again, pace almost punishing as he adds a third one — he had to get you prepped, he was thick.

“So you were always gonna come back?” His voice is low, almost awestruck — had he really gone through all that to get over you when you never intended to get over him in the first place?

He gives you a soft smile, then, trying to reassure you that he wasn’t as mad anymore — sure, he’d have to tell you to never be that psychotic again, but he also knows that’s why he loved you so much. It was a give and take.

“God — I love you too, angel, I love you so so much — breathe, okay? S’gonna hurt at first, know those assholes in college probably had small cocks—“ He’s saying it to make himself feel better, even though he’s probably right, slipping his fingers out to lick your juices off before he starts to line his cock up.

You nod eagerly, splaying your thighs so wide for eddie they hurt but you don't care in the slightest.

"Uh huh. Always gonna come back for you. Can't live without you-"

His smile makes your eyes wet all over again and You lean up, straining against your cuffs to give him a kiss, knowing you had him. You were probably still in trouble for the Steve thing, but for now, it was about them, and he loved you.

"N-no one was as good as you- no one. Missed your cock. Thought about it stuffin' me every night- love it, love it as much as you eddie, i need it-"

You hiccup on your words as you feel the blunt head of him at your hole, biting your lip raw as he pushes in. He's so thick. You start shaking immediately, tears slipping because it feels like he's tearing you open but you love it. You missed it.

"Eddie, please. D-dont torture me anymore, i learned my lesson- love me please."

“God, I love when you’re such a fuckin’ sap, you know that?”

He signs against you, leaning down so he can press a kiss against your pillow soft lips, bottoming out in one go.

He knew it would hurt but he also knew you’d like it, you always had — he thought you were crazy, and maybe you were, but he never really cared.

He moves his lips against yours as he stays there, itching to move but wanting to make sure you're okay first, “Shh, baby, I love you so much, okay? You got me, m’yours, never gonna leave you—“

He has to take another breath, almost choked, “God, this pussy is so good, fuck — can I move? Please? Needa fuck you, feel like i’ve been missing it forever.”

Your eyes crossed in that way they did when he hit that gooey spot at your center, his cock filling you to the brim. Brain completely shutting off all function as you whined so loudly.

"Move, move. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me for all the time i made you miss this cunt- please. Need to feel it-"

You pulled your own knees up, your pink sneakers and socks still on, your toes curling in your rainbow colored socks, golden anklet dangling around your foot as you propped them on either side of his shoulders.

The position widened your cunt and you moaned like a whore at how wide and exposed you felt. You could only imagine how you looked down there, wet and folds straining around his thick cock splitting your open as wide as you'd go. When he started moving, your feet swaying in the air next to his head, you started babbling even more.

"G-god. Love you, love you, love you. M'gonna die i love being fucked by you so much, please, please."

He almost forgot how good you looked when you were opening yourself up for him, letting yourself go mind numb and slutty.

He doesn’t have to be told twice, hands traveling from the sides of your head to the notches in your knees, big hands gripping them to spread your fartyour.

He works up to punishing thrusts but he knows it’s what you like, let’s himself pound into you until his pelvis is grinding down into your clit and the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass echo throughout the room.

“God, love you so much, love this pretty fucking pussy—“ Hes groaning, babbling, just as fucked dumb as you is at this point.

He grins when he hears the wet squelch of your cunt around him, just encouraging him to give it to you harder, “You hear yourself, baby? You missed me, just as much as I missed you, fuck, could fuck you like this forever—“

You might be embarrassed if you weren't so turned on.

"Pl- missed you so much- my pussy missed you so much-"

Your fists clench in your restraints, feeling overwhelmed about the fact that you have to lay there and take it.

"Make me take my pounding- oh, oh, never gonna leave again, just keep me here forever-"

Just the thought of it, of eddie keeping your tied up and using your cunt whenever he wanted has you dripping around his cock fucking into you again and again. It's a fantasy but its a hot one, especially after the circumstances. Eddie making sure you could never go anywhere again, chained up and splayed open to take his cock like you were meant to.

You open your mouth. "S-spit. Spit in my mouth, ah! Please."

His bangs are sticking to his head, sweat slicking his skin and the groan you pull out of him feels like it’s fucking unholy.

The thought is a fantasy, of course, some depraved thing he’d never actually do, but fuck if he didn’t like the thought of you always ready and open for him, just waiting to take his cock whenever he wanted.

His eyes flit down to yours and he nods, immediately pursing his lips and leaning down so he can drip his spit into your mouth, leaning down to lick across your lips.

“S’that good, baby? How’s my spit taste, huh?”

His words are dirty, accentuated by the filthy sounds of fucking that fill the air.

“Cum on my cock, baby, cmon, show me how much you missed me, okay? Soak my cock, angel, s-shit —“ He needed you to. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last.

"Tastes so good sir, mm"

your lashes flutter and its like your cunt can't help but follow his orders, clenching around him as you cum. It feels so good, you missed this so bad. The cuffs rattle against the headboard as you tremble and shake your feet crossing behind Eddie's neck.

"Cum, cum in me, please. Wanna be full of you-"

You wanted to feel it splash inside you and fill you up, wanted to keep it inside you, filling you up and keeping you warm. Your skin was flushed and your chest was heaving and you lay limp and let your body he used like a fleshlight for him to dump his cum into.

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He folds himself over your when he feels himself about to cum, hips pumping into that little cunt like he’s trying to break it.

He wants his cock to get as deep as possible, wants his cum to go into your womb — the evil part of him thinks that maybe he could baby trap you, but he pushes that down immediately. He’s not that evil.

But he’s ashamed to say the thought is what makes him deliver his last thrust, cum spurting and painting your walls white.

He's panting above you, the hot cum thick and he doesn’t even want to pull out cause he wants to keep it there. But he does, fingers coming down to push it back in, ignoring your hiss of sensitivity.

“Fuck. You looks so fucking pretty all wet and puffy, you’re lucky i’m exhausted or id make you go another round.”

He drops down next to you on the bed, fingers still stuffed inside you to keep his cum there. He kisses your sweaty forehead as you curl against him. You're obviously too out of it to talk, but he knows you'll have to. Know it'll be messy and painful, but. He thinks you'll both come out okay.

He's not letting you go. Never again.

You knock on Steve's door, tapping your big chunky black boots against his steps, fishnets pulling against your thighs. You snuggled more into eddies flannel around you as you waited.

You just hoped you could clear the air, perhaps ask your good ol' friend a favor and ask him not to bring up what happened between them to eddie. Sure, he already knew about it. But you didn't want any awkward tension between them, especially since you and eddie were back together. It should be fine right? Steve had fucked loads of girls and had it mean nothing. And they hadn't even fucked, really! So it should be greattttt.

When he opened the door you smiled tentatively at him.

"Hey best friend in the whole wide world, you look great today by the way, did you do something with your hair? It looks really nice. Anyway! Can i come in?"

The second he opens the door he’s giving you a once over, no longer feeling it necessary to hide how blatantly he checks you out.

You look hot, and he swears he’s almost choking on air when he sees your fishnets.

His mouth opens, then closes again when he hears your words, brows furrowing as he moves out of the way to let you in.

“What did you do? You never ask to come in, you always just come in — and you’re complimenting me. Why are you complimenting me?”

your eyes come together in a squint as you pout. It's not something you can just come out and say, is it? You need to work up to it. Him checking you out isn't helping matters at all, making your skin flush.

"Have you no faith in me? Why must I have done something to compliment my friend? Do you only like to be degraded? "

You push past him now and nervously perch on the armrest of his couch. You can't sit on the cushions where they'd touched themselves in front of each other, even though he's probably washed them by now.

"I, uh. Have an update on the Eddie and me situation, is all."

“Because you’re never nice to me? Because even when we were like, five, you’d come up to me and then call me ugly and steal my snacks? I think I know my best friend by now.”

He squints at you, walking closely behind you and settling on the recliner next to the couch. Those cushions felt too — intimate, now.

It wasn’t like their relationship had changed — had it? He doesn’t even know if he would be ready for that, he didn’t expect any of yesterday to happen and—

Oh. “Oh, uh—“ His throat feels thick, “What is it?”

You kick your feet and hum, thinking the casual route is the best option. Cool as a cucumber. Cum. Steve's cum on your panties. Okay-

"We're back together. Basically. Uh, i won't get into the details of how that happened. But, yay!" You waggle your fingers in the air but then drop them and frown, glancing at Steve guilty.

"I guess....I was just hoping. We could keep what happened, you know. Between us?"

Eddie already knew about it, but you didn't want steve being weird about it. You pushed down the part of yourself that let it happen in the first place, the part of you that gotten lost in the moment. You didn't want any more problems between you and eddie. Any more drama. You'd promised to be good.

He frowns, blinking at you for a few seconds. Was he just supposed to forget everything now?

“Okay, pause—“ He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he’s leaning over his knees, elbows on top, “So. You’re back together, yeah, cool, whatever, but—“

He pauses, then. Why was he upset? And why was he jealous? Of Eddie or of you he didn’t know, and he absolutely was not in the right state of mind to accept that it was definitely both.

“It’s — okay, yeah, whatever. Yeah, fine, forget it. It didn’t even mean anything.”

Hes bluffing, of course he is, but he’s hurt, and one thing Steve Harrington hates is vulnerability.

You frowned. This is what you wanted but his wording didn't sit right with you. It niggled at your brain and even though you knew you should leave it, you couldn't.

"It might have meant nothing to me, but it definitely meant something to you. I know you've had a thing for me for years, steve."

You smoothed your hands down your shorts. Honestly, who did he think he was fooling. Just because you DEFINITELY didn't feel the same (You couldn't right? You had eddie again) didn't mean you were oblivious to his pining.

"Not that that matters, anyway. I know this hurts you, is my point. But thanks for being so cool about it. You're the best steve."

You smiled at him extra sweetly.

He can't stop his jaw from dropping slightly, eyebrows knitting together in a scowl, both confused and mildly angry.

“Im — excuse me? You do know that you also let me cum all over you, right? Like, that definitely wasn’t just a me thing.“

He's seething. He definitely feels it, fire flowing through his veins. You were compensating, he knew that, but fuck if it didn’t piss him off.

“Yeah,it fucking hurts to be thrown to the side like that, but I think you should also probably evaluate why the fuck you even wanted to in the first place. You’re throwing stones from a glass house.”

You flush angrily and pop up, hating being called out. God, why did everyone wanna make you own up to things?

"I'll throw stones at you! What does that even mean? I got horny, so what? You were talking about eddie, the boy i love. Of course i was gonna be into it."

You can't think about his cock, or how it felt to have him talk about wanting you. You're not allowed to be that greedy when you just got eddie back. You can't allow Steve to think you liked him at all, or he'd intervene.

"Look. Just. We both agree to keep it between us? I'm sorry it hurt you but what do you want from me? You know I can't like you back. I'm with eddie. You can't ruin that for me just because you have a crush."

Maybe if you were mean enough he'd stop having feelings for you and then they could go back to being friends and you and eddie could be in love and everything would be fine.

“You know what? Whatever, deny whatever the fuck you want, it’s not my grave to dig.“

He shakes his head, leaning back in his recliner again and averting his gaze from your. He was tired, and he knew you could tell.

Part of him knew he had little right to be angry — You didn’t like him back, whatever. But it felt like he’d put his heart out there and you’d simply thrown it to the side.

“Sure, whatever. But know that this—“ He gestures between the two of them, “Is not the same now. Don’t come over late at night when you’re bored and want to watch movies, don’t come bug me at the store, don’t offer to help babysit the others with me. I’m done.”

He lets it hang in the air, knowing you won’t go down without a fight but needing to get his peace out.

You felt your heart clench in your chest. He looked so disappointed in you and you didn't know how to fix it. Why couldn't things just go back to how they were?

You stomped your foot. "Why are you making this such a big deal? It never was before...."

He looked seconds away from tossing you out of his house and you wanted to scream. You didn't wanna think about why you felt so upset by him not wanting anything to do with you anymore.

"You hook up with loads of girls and it means nothing, just let it be like that. You can't be done with me, you can't just make that choice."

“Those loads of girls aren’t—“

He stops himself. How would he finish that? ‘Aren’t you?’ ‘Aren’t the girl i’ve had a crush on for years?’ ‘Aren’t the girl I jacked off to pictures of with your ex boyfriend?’

“They aren’t my best friend. And I can make that choice, actually. I’m quite literally making it right now.”

He takes a deep breath before standing, already moving to sweep open the door.

“I’ll see you around, yeah? Have fun with Munson for me.”

You're snuggled against Eddie like a little kitten, happy but still feeling guilty about your conversation with Steve earlier. You hadn't told Eddie about any of it. Mostly because he said he wanted to deal with steve, whatever that meant, and your going over there and breaking his heart probably wasn't something he'd be okay with. You wondered what eddie's reaction would be to all the hidden drama between you and the other man. If he knew that you had strung along not only him, but Steve too? You didn't think he'd be happy.

You were just glad Steve agreed to keep quiet about it. The guilt would go away, surely. So would the feelings.

Steve mulled it over for hours after you'd left, trying to get rid of the guilt that consumed him for screwing Eddie over and the anger that filled him when he thought of what you had said.

That decides it for him, he thinks, and he's grabbing his jacket on the way out of the house with a scowl on his face. Eddie deserved to know -- and Steve thought he should tell him.

And then he's surprised when he's knocking on Munson's trailer only to see you cuddled up on the couch, already asking him to come back to cuddle -- he breathes deeply, trying to keep his features and voice in check.

"Hey, Munson -- lemme come in real quick? It'll only take a sec, just wanna talk."

Eddie's on top of the world, really -- he's got his girlfriend back, his ex had finally stopped throwing shit at his trailer to fuck with him, and he wasn't being hunted by practically half the town anymore. He thinks he's living the life.

Which is why he's all smiles when he opens the door and greets Steve, already moving out of the way to invite him in.

He registers that Steve looks a little off, but doesn't think much of it because, why would Steve be upset? They'd gotten a lot closer since...last summer, enough that Eddie could say that he's one of his best friends. So nothing bad, right?

"Yeah, dude, come in! What's up?" He grins, looking from Steve to you and painfully missing the tension, "Everything alright?"

You're giving steve 'im going to murder you' eyes over eddies shoulder. Already you know this can't be good for you. Steve looks vindictive and you don't know how to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

You stand up, smiling.

"Oh my god, did you guys have plans? Eddie, you should have told me, silly. I'll just leave you to it! Call me when you're done!" You scurry to grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

The way you see it, You can't stop Steve from spilling, but you can definitely run from the fallout. Maybe regroup. Explain to eddie later when Steve wasn't there, your side of things once you thought of a suitable enough lie.

Steve's immediately stepping back and throwing his arm out to stop you from leaving, blocking the door and crossing his arms as he looks from you to level with Eddie.

"Did you know?" His voice is tight, jaw set. He sees Eddie's confused face and he has to stop the laugh that threatens to come out, only shaking his head.

"About her and I? Did she tell you?" The flash of recognition on Eddie's face has his other words fading off, his brows furrowing. No way you'd told him?

Eddie's in shock for the first few seconds, trying to process what the fuck is happening between his best friend and his girlfriend. Should he be concerned?

But then Steve speaks and, yes, it takes Eddie a second, he isn't the brightest guy in the world, but he quickly catches on and nods, laughing softly.

"Oh -- dude, yeah, she told me yesterday when we -- it doesn't matter. Why do you seem so upset about it? I thought you guys were on cool terms now."

Eddie looks from the other boy to you, eyebrows knit together, "Right, babe?"

You feel something in you shrivel and die. Eddie was about to find out how even more of a cunt you were than he thought.

You bit your lip, glancing at Steve and then at Eddie and then at the ground, kicking your shoes against the floor as you shuffled back to the couch and sat on it, looking at neither of them now. How best could you sugarcoat all this?

"Um." You tucks some hair behind your ear. "Depends on your definition of fine? Like do we have a mutual understanding? Uh uh! Right, steve?"

You plead with him with your eyes to leave it at that. He used to always cave for those. Please don't tell my boyfriend im a manipulative cunt and I played with your feelings, he'll skin me alive! You don't want the girl you're secretly in love with skinned alive, right? You hoped that's all conveyed in your gaze.

He contemplates it, he really does. Contemplates caving in to those pretty eyes and lying to save your ass.

And then he remembers what happened between you two, the things you had said after practically admitting you returned his feelings, and that's all he needs to avert his gaze. You couldn't get him with the eyes if he didn't look.

"Yeah, mutual understanding. Mutual understanding that we're not friends anymore because apparently it meant nothing to you and only something to me, and that I should just get over what happened because you're happy with Eddie again and that's all that matters. Right?"

He's looking at Eddie as he says it, eyes trained on the other's.

Eddie, for his part, tries not to let the shock show on his face but he's never been particularly good at hiding his emotions.

His eyes flick from Steve, to you, to Steve, then back to you again. How much had you left out when you'd told him about your and Steve's talk? He thought it went well.

"Oh," Is all he can say, trying to work through the confusion he's feeling.

"Um -- explain, please baby? The truth this time."

Drats. There was no wyoure to run then. You could only really blame yourself, but still. You wanted to pout. But you knew that would only make it worse.

"Eddie, um." your voice is quiet, tinged with regret. "Steve and i....well. We have, sort of. A past i guess? But i love you. I do. You know i do. I just- i told steve i liked him back, when we- when we hooked up. I don't know why."

The thing was you did know why. You'd denied it for years, because you'd had Eddie, and didn't want to be greedy. But you had feelings for steve. But you couldn't say that now, could you?

"I don't know the truth." Yes you did. The truth was you were in love with two men at the same time but didn't want to say it. "I love you eddie. Im sorry. I didn't wanna tell you because i didn't want you to think i was.....hurting more people."

You shrugged. "I told steve i chose you, basically and he took it bad, is all."

Steve only stands there with his arms crossed, looking at Eddie with raised eyebrows as if to ask if he really believed you.

Eddie meets Steve's gaze and sighs, because he really wants to believe his girlfriend and have this all blow over but he knows he can't. The two people who knew you best were standing in this room and they both knew you were lying.

"I said to be honest.," He runs ringed fingers through his hair, giving you a look laced with disappointment while his big brown eyes plead, "Please? You're hiding something."

He didn't think you didn't love him -- he knew you did, he would never not be secure in that, but you were holding something back, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"I'm not mad, just -- please."

You're ashamed to feel tears burn your eyes. You hate crying. Emotional crying anyway. Especially when you spent two hours on this whole smokey eye look, fuck.

"Fuck you. I spent ages on this makeup." You direct your words at Steve, glaring at him like it's his fault for making you have feelings. You look at eddie and soften, seeing he really doesn't look angry with you. "I love you eddie. That's the biggest truth. I just- don't want to hurt you anymore. I've hurt you enough and i can't be greedy anymore, or I'll truly be the worst person alive. But, but."

You look at Steve again with your watery eyes and hope he feels guilty for making you cry. He's so mean. And he called you the mean one. Haha.

"I love Steve too. I think i have f-for awhile." your lip trembles. "M'sorry eddie. M'the worst girlfriend alive."

Oh shit.

Okay, steve didn't expect that -- not at all, actually, and he has to quickly pick up his jaw from the floor because holy shit, You what? You actually liked -- no, loved him back?

He thinks he's stunned into silence and, for once, needs Eddie to pick up and speak for him. Plus, he really does feel bad for making you cry, and he wants to go over and comfort you, but he swears he feels rooted where he stands. What the fuck?

Eddies eyebrows furrow, body immediately moving to where you are sitting to wrap his arms around you. He hates seeing you cry, even more so when he's part of the reason why.

"I love you too, angel, always, why wouldn't I? Nothing you could ever do could stop me from--"

He swears his whole world gets thrown off its axis. You -- loved Steve? And him? He searches in him for the anger he's probably supposed to be feeling, or jealousy, but it comes up...empty.

He knows it would be there had this been anyone else, but he can't deny the feelings he'd harbored for the other man just a few months prior. If you wanted them both, why would he deny you?

"Guess he is kinda pretty, huh?" He's trying to lighten the mood, swiping away a stray tear with his thumb, "You're not awful, angel, could never be -- I don't mind sharing. I think I even kinda like him too." He turns, eyebrows raised, "So, Harrington. Whaddya say?"

You lean into Eddie's touch immediately, wanting to crawl into his lap, so you do. You can't believe you're lucky enough to have someone like him. He should be throwing you out, and banishing you from his trailer but instead he's saying You can have what you want? That he wants it too?

You turn from where you'd buried your head in his neck to peek at steve. "H-he is pretty." You swallow. "When we....i made him touch himself and tell me about the things you guys did. Was mean to him until he got mean back. I-I really liked it eddie."

You turn to look up at him with your big eyes, jutting out your bottom lip.

"For some reason, i can never be a brat towards you. Wanna be your good girl. That's why i didn't tell you. Didn't wanna disappoint you. A-and i was embarrassed because...didn't want you to know how much of a brat i can be."

You squirm as your eyes turn to Steve again. "And i didn't want you to know how much i liked being dominated....was too embarrassing. It's easier to just be a bitch. But i love you, steve. Come here?"

He's a broken down man, truly, because the second you turn to him with those big eyes and pouty lips he's nodding, walking towards his two friends -- lovers, now? -- with a slight roll of his eyes.

"So I had to do all this for you two to finally realize your love for me? We coulda saved so much time, y'know--" But he's smiling, softly and fondly because he's unable to help himself. How'd he get so lucky?

The mention of their time together has him gulping, heat rushing to his face, "She's a real brat, Munson -- how the hell do you calm her down so quick? Swear it's like I look into those eyes and I'm putty." But then he's smirking, an idea coming into his head, "Wanna show me?"

"You know, Harrington, I don't think you've ever had a better idea--" Eddie's grinning, big and goofy and way more cocky than he should be.

But he has a hot boyfriend and a hot girlfriend, so how could anyone blame him? He's literally living the good life.

He turns to you, planting a kiss on your lips before he's speaking gently, "How 'bout it, angel? Wanna show Stevie how to tame the beast?" He says it teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows, but his voice is low enough to show that he means it, "Bet he'd get a kick out of it. Maybe we'll even let him join."

He locks eyes with Steve before leaning forward to kiss him, too, smirking at the bright blush on the boy's face, "See? He likes it."

You felt yourself heat up at their kiss, nodding eagerly at the idea of Eddie showing Steve how he made you melt. You were a little embarrassed at the thought of Steve seeing your turn so slutty, but mostly excited.

When they pull back You're leaning forward to kiss Steve yourself, moaning loudly into his mouth before pulling back and settling into Eddie's chest.

"W-wanna show him how good i can be." You put on your signature pout and stick one of your feet out, again, pushing it against steve's shoulder. "You're not allowed to make fun me, kay? I'll bite your head off."

You think you'd actually like it if he made fun of you, taunted you a little, but you'd die before you willingly admitted you fantasized about being bullied by him. He could figure that one out himself.

"Eddie, please." You were already starting to get desperate, grinding back against him. "T-touch me now. Wanna be touched."

Steve swallows hard, nodding his head and feeling dazed after the two kisses -- is this how he was gonna feel every time? Hazy and feeling drunk off of just one kiss?

He's watching, eagerly trying to eat up everything he can about the way they interact -- so he can learn, of course.

Your begging is like music to eddies ears, ringed hands running up and down your sides to tease you a bit before he's pushing your shirt up, letting your tits bounce free. You didn't wear bras when he was around.

"Aren't they so pretty, Stevie?" His voice is taunting, more towards you than him, but it looks and feels so good to be in control of both of them right now. Addicting, almost.

"She makes the prettiest sounds when you just..." He trails off, fingers tweaking one of your nipples and grinning at the needy whine he receives.

"Wanna see her get really worked up, though?" At Steve's eager nod he quickly unbuttons your shorts and shimmies them off along with your panties, letting them fall to the floor. He brings his hands down to rip along the seam of your fishnets, creating the perfect opening for his fingers to descend upon your clit, moving in slow circles.

You tremble and want to kick your feet, but steve is wrapping a hand around your ankle and squeezing it, his brown eyes fixed where eddie is playing with your little bud. He looks ravenous.

He meets your eyes and smiles, wolfish.

"You have a lot of groveling to do with that little pussy, I think."

"Mm, she does." Eddie agrees from behind you, "to both of us. Better strap in sweetheart."

Welcome fucking back to hawkins.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steddie x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fandom #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #eddie spaghetti #stevie #steve x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #steve harrington

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m1ssunderstanding · 1 month

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 4.3

Oof! Got him!

“She loves you and he loves him and they love each other”. You know when you've got something to say but you don't want it to look like you really wanted to say it specifically so you throw it in between two other things? No? Just me and John?

I'm obsessed with John just heaping praise on Paul in this interview. Every song the interviewer brings up it's “best” “my favorite” “all Paul” “good piece of work” “somewhere I have the tape of him doing it” “damn good” “one of his masterpieces” See also: Paul’s a good lyricist, he just doesn't try because he's insecure. And: one of the most innovative bass players of all time.

John mixing up In My Life and If I Fell “although I don't know why I'm confusing them, they're nothing alike but they have the same–” The same what? Same target? Same muse? Hmm? “It's really about–it's not about Cyn.” He's barely hanging on to not saying it here, like, by a gossamer thread.

John confessing that the consistent character flaw of Paul's which hurt him ((hurt. Not annoyed. Not angered. Hurt.)) was insensitivity. Not bossiness or lameness or sneakiness. Insensitivity. What John couldn't handle in the end about Paul was that he wasn't aware enough of John's tender feelings.

He's also so cruel in this interview. And what you've got to pay attention to is the theme connecting the songs he's cruel about: Let It Be (let John go) and The Long and Winding Road (the long and pointless fight).

The Japanese Monk comparison doesn't quite land for me because it implies that John purposely broke up the Beatles because he knew they were at a peak and he wanted them to stay gold. And I think that's what John would like the story to be. It makes him feel better inside. It makes him look incredibly wise and courageous. But it's clear – John even stated it himself more than once on record – that the breakup was not purposeful or calculated. It was a terrible accident that nobody wanted, least of all John.

More quotes to live by when examining John's post breakup “ow!”

I find it fascinating that John thought of Paul's and Dylan's lyrics as very similar and says so twice in this documentary. But nobody else ever draws that comparison. In mainstream thought, Bob Dylan is one of the greatest lyricists of all time if not the greatest (it's me. I'm mainstream. Subterranean Homesick Blues my absolute beloved.) and Paul is the worst lyricist to ever get successful. And you know what? I think Paul gets punished for being physically pretty and financially savvy, and I think in the exact same way his music gets punished for being melodically pretty and commercially successful.

John about Paul's inscrutable messages in his songs: if one knows the person, one knows what's coming down. John in I Know (I Know): and I know. What's coming down.

I will always love how he says in the same breath . . . “I've compared it to a marriage a million times" and "Paul and I were together.”

You really do gotta be like “Johns say the darndest things sometimes.” I mean that's what Paul did, right? Because genuinely most of the time he's a fucking sweetheart. After he's sat there defending Paul's insane mourning bus movie, the interviewer asks him to compare himself and Paul. And after saying there's never been a question about commerciality, he says this.

Nobody think about Paul writing “One of These Days” just before John's death then “This One” a decade later. Don't do it. I do recommend.

Free as a Bird is such a beautiful song. It's a gorgeous melody, and it's got such complex emotions. He's still mourning something that was lost, but he's hopeful. He's on his way home.

You all know that long distance interview Paul did right before John died where they bring up some of the awful things John said recently about him (ignoring the millions of loving and admiring things). When Paul's voice cracks and he looks up at the ceiling and struggles for a minute and the lights go out, I have a theory that it's one of their kids being protective. She was messing with the lights before to be silly and then when the bad question comes she turns them off again as a sort of protective sabotage.

What If though? What If that's true?

Quote of all time!!! “The person I actually picked as my partner, who I recognized has talent and who I could get on with, was Paul.” He doesn't say ‘as my sidekick’ or ‘running mate’ or ‘captain’s mate’ or ‘second string’ or any of those things that traditional Beatles fans tend to push on them. Partner.

Serious question, because I swing all over the place as to what I think actually happened between John and Paul physically and emotionally. If we agree that Real Love is about Paul (a baby and another on the way lalalalalala farm . . . Just call him on the phone) Then what about this lyric? “Was I just dreaming (a word of theirs and something they thought they shared) or was it only Yesterday (Paul's biggest song) I used to hold you in my arms? Is that to be taken literally? John used to hold Paul in his arms? i.e. frequent hugging and cuddling?

The heart monitor cuts so harshly into John singing “Grow Old With Me.” As we see beautiful images of John and all the people he's leaving behind. I'm dry heaving. This documentary is so much more painful this time around than the first.

Anyway I'm glad we got coverage of all the “for Paul” songs. Which. Btw fuck you Sean and Peter. You proved absolutely nothing.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #understanding lennon mccartney #ulm

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jamisonwritestf2trash · 8 months

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How good are the ft2 mercs at baking and cooking respectively

TF2 Mercs Cooking And Baking Skills!

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Oh boy, you've asked a guy who loves to cook a bake, prepare for a ramble.

Moot appreciation: Thank you for your asks! I've had fun with the prompts you've sent it. Also, I love your blog!

Also, oops, a little Spy angst fell in, who would have guessed.

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Demo- I'm gonna go out on a limb and say most people think he can't cook. Wrong! He can cook. Just uh, unique dishes. This man has made haggis for the other mercs, Scout whole heartedly thought Demo was trying to kill them. (Little off topic but, did you guys know deep-fried Mars bars are a Scottish thing)? But in general he can cook, and cook well, it just depends on if what he's cooking is something your willing to try.

I don't think this man can bake, but that won't stop him from trying! He tries to learn, but always gets frustrated when things don't work. Like the cupcakes have been in the oven for well over two hours and are still not cooked? This man is pissed. But what he lacks in an ability to bake, he makes up for by being amazing at decorating cakes and cupcakes somehow? Like he can't bake a cupcake to save his life, but you bet your ass he can turn it into one of the prettiest things with a bag of frosting and sprinkles.

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Engie- This man is so good at cooking its not even funny. Like the he cooks for everyone one night and everyone begs him to cook at least once a month. Sure, is it the healthiest food? Not really. But it is good food! And for the mercs that's all they really care about some days.

I'm gonna be honest, he'd be a really good baker, but has never had any desire to. Never felt the need to. He'd rather just buy whatever he wants or needs. He can, however be convinced to bake, but even then he's indifferent to it. He thinks it's a fine enough hobby but would never find enthralled with it. Is always very proud of his work in either cooking or baking though!

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Heavy- He can cook! And really likes to do it too. He loves making traditional Russian food. Loves being able to share his culture through something so simple. Likes making anything really. Finds cooking to be relaxing. As long as he can be left alone while doing so.

He can bake too, he just choses not to. It's very precise, one wrong measurement and it's all going to hell. He'd love to bake, but at the end of the day I think it would stress him out more than it would calm him down, or more than it would be worth it for the final product.

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Medic- This is such a toss up for me. I want to say he can cook, and cook well. But the other part of me thinks that he'd be way too giddy to use cooking the team dinner to run a test or two. (What am I talking about he put fertility hormones in someone's rations, he'd take any chance to do it (lovingly)! To the other mercs). I guess I'll say he can cook, but be weary of what he's feeding you at any given time. Also I think if he's not in a testing mood he gets all happy at the idea of cooking traditional food as well.

Due to the fact that, may or may not be up to no good when cooking! The mercs are not super keen on letting him into the kitchen. But if Medic manages to convince (threaten) them into trusting him enough to bake, he's insanely good at it! Baking is a science, and he's incredibly good at getting measurements to be perfect. Plus even if he's not using baking or cooking as an excuse to run some tests on his teammates, it's still an experiment in it's own right. So he genuinely enjoys baking and cooking.

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Scout- You really think his mom would let him leave the house without knowing to cook? Sure, he's probably his mom's favorite, and the youngest child, so you'd think he'd be spoiled, but nope! His mom taught him from a young age the importance of having cooking as a skill, and now he loves it. He cooks when he's homesick, it reminds him of his mom, he looks at it as a connection with one another.

Same thing with baking, but I think he likes baking a bit more than cooking due to the presence of a shit ton of sugar. You'd also think this man would be chill in the kitchen. Absolutely not. He hates having other people in the kitchen when he's busy. He finds them to be distracting. Also, he's super cautious when people ask to try what he's baking specifically. He doesn't want someone to get E. Coli, because of the raw flour in the raw cookie dough. All in all, though, when he's alone (or with Pyro if they decide to join Scout). Then he's genuinely enjoying both baking and cooking.

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Sniper- Mr. Runs off instant ramen and fairy bread. Has the basic skills. He could make rice, grilled cheese, and fried eggs if need be. But for the most part, he can't cook. He has a stove in his van, and it has never been used other than to boil water. He could learn how to cook if he was really persuaded by a certain team member, but it would take a lot, and it would take a long time to learn how to cook a decent meal.

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Spy- Can cook, he has before. It was a life skill just like any other. I got pretty good at it. He can still make decently elaborate dishes, but he's not a fan of it. He doesn't really like cooking. He never had anyone to share his food with. He always wanted someone to share food with, someone to cook with. Was always too scared for said person to actually stick around, said person couldn't stick around.

He's never tried to bake, and I don't think he'd enjoy it. He'd complain about how messy it is. He'd be fine with the having to be careful and precise part. Hell He'd even be good at decorating and just baking in general. But he just wouldn't like doing it.

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Soldier- This man can't so much as cook as he can grill. It's super weird, he'll make the most normal american food and it's like really good? Like he'll make steaks, hamburgers, and hot dogs for a 4th of July party and it's the best shit you've ever had. Ask this man to fry an egg and all hell breaks loose. He is only allowed to man the grill from now on.

Do not ask this man to bake, please, please don't. He cooks with cartoon logic. The recipe calls for three eggs? He drops in three fully-shelled eggs. A stick of butter? The wrapper is still on. And the scariest part is whatever he's baking always comes out looking, edible? Cartoonish? Like straight up looks like someone drew it into existence. For the sake of everyone's mental health, they don't let Soldier bake anymore.

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Pyro- Teach them how to flambé and they're going to have the best time of their lives. They aren't horrible at cooking but aren't a master chef either. They have tried to use their flamethrower to cook on multiple occasions, but they have been banned from being in the kitchen alone due to "inciting panic." Whatever that means. They mainly will cook with Engie, as he's the most patient when it comes to Pyro's "help." (Standing menacingly until they can be trusted to do something. They do it with love, though)!

Speaking of flambé! They love to try and convince the other mercs to let them make bananas Foster, and when they eventually wear the other mercs down and are allowed to try it, they do well! It was a one-time thing, they all got too scared to let them do it again. Now they spend a lot of time helping Scout while he bakes. Overall, they can cook and bake, but should only be allowed to under supervision.

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I hope you like this! Sorry it took me so long to write I've been exhausted all week. But it was fun to write :)

New fic tomorrow, someone asked about the mercs at Barbie, which is going to be so fun!

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress headcanons #tf2 headcanons #tf2 hcs #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro

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cowgurrrl · 3 months

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Lavender Girl

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: A field trip [4.7k]

Warnings: financial stress, school fight, June once again introduces an ex, having a muse is creepy and weird, flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, June putting her art history knowledge to work

Most days, you're a good teacher. A teacher that students want to eat lunch with or inadvertently include in their silly TikToks. Most days, you're patient and kind and only have to raise your voice a handful of times, if only to be heard over the blanket volume level of teenage conversation. Today is not one of those days. "Guys!" You yell, pausing the music on your computer and turning to look at your class, obviously annoyed. "We're supposed to be talking about Picasso. I don't know why I'm hearing so much conversation about lunch." It's a lie. There was a fight between two students at lunch. It'd also been the topic of conversation in the teacher's lounge, but still.

"Miss, we already talked about Picasso!" One of your kids bemoans, and you raise your eyebrows at them.

"So, if I asked you right now, you could tell me what historical event his painting Guernica is supposed to depict?" You ask. The entire class goes silent as you wait for a response that never comes, and you sigh. "Please, do your work."

The day started with getting yet another email from another gallery, this time from down south, telling you they loved your work but not enough to showcase or buy it. Then, a text from your manager letting you know that paychecks will be late because of technical issues with the system, even though you're already beyond broke. Then, a sad text from Andie about how she's feeling homesick and misses you and wishes you could get on a plane to come see her. Then, to top it all off, an email from your ex, Henry, popped up the second you pulled into the school.

Hey, long time, no talk! I hope you're doing well. I wanted to reach out and let you know I've got an exhibition going up later next week and wanted to invite you to the opening. It's about-

You didn't read any further, anger and a wave of past emotions drowning you before you could. You and Henry were together all throughout college. You met during a freshman art class and were inseparable after that. He was tall, sensitive, and had a penchant for listening to country music when he worked, leading to many delirious nights spent crooning to Emmy-Lou Harris together. He surprised you with new paint and spontaneous trips to scenic parts of Texas to fuel your inspiration. You were happy for a long time. You even thought you'd marry him at one point. He wanted to be the next young, groundbreaking artist, making you his muse, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were also an artist. Your work would go up in galleries and exhibitions, and everyone in your small program would gossip about the two of you. "He's so talented. It's insane," you heard one of your classmates say once. "And she's so beautiful."

The compliment dug under your skin and stayed there as your relationship failed. You didn't want to be a muse anymore. You stopped letting him paint you in various states of undress and started asking for more alone time to work on your own stuff. You went from being the perfect, polished doll he could position however he wanted and started living in your paint-stained jeans and old, ratty shirt. You started arguing more and more, first about little things like why he left his paint water cups everywhere, and then about big things like your decision to pursue teaching and the "inspiration" he found in an impressionable freshman. He suddenly moved out after graduation without a word, leaving you to nurse your wounds in a half-empty apartment for the rest of your lease, and you hadn't heard from him until this morning.

There's something more than the sting of hearing from him all these years later that bothers you. You're a high school art teacher struggling to make ends meet, and he's doing exactly what he set out to do. He's getting his work in front of his eyes and receiving praise for it. "Why do you wanna be a teacher when you can just be an artist?" He asked you one morning as you studied for your certification exams. "Or, at least, an artist's wife."

"And what if I'm not good at that?" You asked. "Then what? I'm just supposed to be your muse for the rest of my life? Have kids to fuel someone else's inspiration and have no time for my own work? Wither away while you go on to make art and give talks and become a cynic? Fuck that."

You stand by what you said, even all these years later, but there is an irony in that, even as a teacher, you don't have time to do your own work. Still, fuck that. The bell rings and signals the end of another class, and you quickly stand as students start packing up their stuff. "Okay, guys. Remember, your art history essay is due in two weeks! I'm excited to read all about everything you've learned since we started this unit. I love you, and please make good choices." You announce, hoping that at least some of them are listening to you, as they spill out of the classroom and the next students stream in. Ellie's sweet face is a welcome reprieve when she walks in.

"Hey Bellie! How's your day going, kiddo?" You ask, and she smiles. You'll swear up and down all day that you don't have favorite students, but if you did, Ellie would be one of them.

"Good. I have my signed permission slip for the art club field trip." She says. After your experience with Joel outside the bar, you couldn't sleep and knocked out all the field trip paperwork before falling asleep on your couch. But you weren't safe from his lips and broad shoulders, even in your subconscious.

"Oh, my hero! I've been meaning to remind everyone about those. Thanks for getting that in so quickly." You say as she hands the paper to you, Joel's scribbly signature at the bottom. Somehow, you're not surprised that the box indicating he wants to be a chaperone is ticked. "Perfect. Your dad knows when the field trip is?"

"Yeah. He wrote it down on his calendar and everything." She says, rolling her eyes fondly, and you laugh.

"Well, good, because I'm gonna need all the help I can get when I'm dealing with you guys."

"Hey!" She feigns offense as the bell rings, signaling the end of the passing period, and the last of your students comes running in. Ellie takes her seat near the front, and you grab your silly, colorful pointer to talk about Guernica, which is still proudly displayed on the board. After a quick art history lesson, you release them to work on the projects they've been working on for a week now. They still have a few more days before it's due, so more than half of them are slacking off quietly, which you're fine with. As long as you get a finished assignment at the end, they can do whatever they want.

You play quiet music as they work to help them focus and answer some emails. One email that catches your attention is from the parent of one of your students, Dalton, who's an amazing football player but is less than passionate about art, to say the least. You emailed his dad to let him know he was missing some assignments and could still turn them in late for only a slight penalty, but if he turns in nothing at all, you'll have no choice but to fail him. You also CC'd the football coach so he'd know the academic standing of one of his star players. Needless to say, you've been subject to a few not-so-nice emails from all parties involved.

Once you're done firing off another round of emails, you decide to step away from your computer so you don't have to see the next reply until absolutely necessary. Walking around the room to answer questions, give opinions, or just hear what's happening in students' lives always makes you feel better. In one period, you helped a handful of students put the finishing touches on their projects, heard the latest gossip, and talked one of your girls out of sending a nasty text to the boy who just broke her heart. And they say teachers aren't important.

The second you get a little bit of peace during your planning period, your phone buzzes with a notification. Given all the notifications and messages you've received today, you're hesitant to even pull it out of your pocket. But curiosity wins, and you open your phone to find a text from an unsaved number.

Is there anything I should bring to the field trip? Snacks, gum, alcohol?

You laugh to yourself and start typing a message back.

Alcohol won't be necessary, but it might be good to bring some lunch and a few snacks. I think we're gonna try to have a picnic or something at the museum.

Yes, ma'am.

You still feeling up to chaperone? Teenagers are no joke.

Do I need to remind you that I've raised two? I think I can handle a few more.

Oh, I can't wait to see this.

It can't be that hard, right?

On the day of the field trip, it turns out to be that hard. The only adults accompanying twenty teenagers to the museum are you and Joel. They're excited to be out of school and doing something new, but you can feel your migraine starting before you even get on the bus. Thankfully, the ride to the museum (and the traffic) calms them down, and they're more manageable by the time you arrive. A curator meets you outside the front doors and begins by walking your group through the outdoor sculptures, giving a little bit of history of the museum and the pieces themselves. The kids ask insightful questions and take turns snapping photos or even sketching a rough outline of the piece before moving on to the next. You stay at the front of the group while Joel manages the middle and back, silencing kids with a stern look. You fight a smile when you catch him and Ellie lingering at a sculpture, whispering to each other before he urges her forward and takes a sweet picture of her smiling in front of it.

After the initial walk of the grounds, you stop to have lunch in a sunny garden and listen to the kids gush about their favorite part so far and what paintings they're most excited to see inside.

"Miss, what's your favorite thing here?" Kayla asks.

"I like Dream Village by Chagall. If you find it before me, you'll have to let me know." You say. "Do you have a favorite?"

"Not yet. Maybe I'll find it today." Kayla says.

"I like that attitude!"

"Kissass." Jacob coughs, and you both give him a look. You can feel Joel's eyes burning a hole in the back of your head as you stare at Jacob.

"What's my policy?"

"Are you really gonna make me say it?"

"Yep." You say, and he sighs.

"You can be anything you want to be, but you're not allowed to be a dick." He mumbles.

"Exactly. So, please, be nice," you say as you fish around in your lunch box for something. "Here, have a cookie. It might help make you feel a little better." He mutters a little thanks and unwraps it, already in a better mood after one bite, and you smile.

"You just carry around cookies, waiting for a kid to be in a bad mood?" Joel asks, and you turn to look at him. He's wearing a plain blue t-shirt and jeans with sunglasses sitting atop his head, but you think it might be your favorite thing he's worn in your presence. You like it when he wears color.

"It was my cookie, but he needs it more than I do," you shrug. "Besides, things like that are a great morale booster. It's hard to be grumpy when you've got something sweet."

"I'm inclined to agree with you." He quips a little too smoothly, his eyes flicking across your face and down to your lips, and you feel your cheeks getting hot. Thankfully, all the kids have returned to their own conversations and couldn't care less about what the Adults are talking about.

"You're relentless." You whisper.

"Do you want me to stop?" He whispers back, and you sigh. If you were a stronger or better person, you might be able to think fast enough to come up with a response, but you're not. So, you just look at him and rack your brain for something to say but come up empty. "That's what I thought." He smiles and offers you his sweating Dr. Pepper can as a peace offering. You roll your eyes at his smug look but take a sip anyway.

Once everyone is done eating, you all stand and make your way into the museum lobby, the kids already chattering about what they want to see.

"Okay, you guys are free to roam but please, please, please remember that you're representing not only the school but also me. Be respectful and kind, and please don't act like you've never been in public before, okay? Go, be free." You say before the kids split off into their little groups with their obligatory activity in hand. Ellie stays near Joel, only a little shy, until Kayla turns around suddenly and waves her on.

"Ellie, c'mon!" She says. Ellie takes a few steps in her direction before turning to look back at Joel.

"Go. I'll be okay." He says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now go. Have fun." She doesn't need any more encouragement after that and skitters off with the rest of the kids, leaving you and Joel alone in the atrium.

"She's doing really well." You tell him even though he can clearly see for himself.

"Thanks to you."

"All I did was give her a push."

"Take the credit. You deserve it." He says, his lips pulling into that award-winning smile.

You fall into silence as you walk through the different galleries, Joel never too far behind you. Sometimes, he'll start at the opposite end of the room and work his way down until you meet in the middle, making a deliberate effort to bump your shoulder or hand as he passes. Other times, he'll stay right next to you, and, for some reason, it doesn't bother you. You like being so close to him and feeling his eyes work over the piece like it's a puzzle he doesn't quite know how to work. When he can't stand the quiet anymore, he'll whisper a question to you about the artist or the history, his breathing fanning out across your neck and making the hair there stand on end.

After moving through a big part of the museum together, you and Joel end up at the same painting as the dull hum of voices fills the space between you. You smile to yourself, practically hearing him trying to find something to say as he stands there and observes how the lines of bright colors follow each other. Some are stark and almost resemble lightning in how they move around the canvas, but others are muted, blended together with careful precision and patience. It's hard to imagine what West Texas could've been like in 1953, but this makes it a little easier.

"What's this one supposed to mean?" Joel mumbles, leaning ever so conspicuously into you.

"I can't tell you." You mumble back, and he finally turns to look at you head-on. You meet his eyes with an amused smile, and he shakes his head at you.

"You're really not gonna tell me?"

"I can't tell you what art is supposed to mean to you. I can't tell anyone that."

"But, you're a teacher."

"If you're asking me for an art history lesson, I'd be happy to help, but that's about all I can do for you."

"'S cruel and unusual punishment."

"If art and culture are cruel and unusual punishment, why'd you sign up to chaperone?"

"Maybe I wanted to see my friend," he says, bumping you with his shoulder, and you laugh a little too hard. "What? We can't be friends? Is there a school policy against that, too?"

"Nope, no school policy. I just," You pause and revel in how enraptured he looks at every movement, pause, and breath you take. "I already have friends, so..."

"Oh, and you're 'fraid of bein' too popular?"

"Famously." You say, and he chuckles next to you. You go back to staring at the painting quietly with him so close you can feel his body heat. You're the one to break this time, knocking him with your shoulder to get his attention again. You didn't need to. When you glance at him, you see his focus is on you, not the painting. "It's Texas. Canyon, to be more precise. Up by Amarillo where there's nothing but cattle and desert. O'Keeffe taught out there for a few years and wanted to paint something that showed how big the West is. It's supposed to make you feel like you're two feet tall and seeing the sky for the first time. For her, it might've been the first time in a long time she'd gotten to see a sunset that big. So, she painted it so other people could enjoy sunsets like that. It's like a love letter."

"How d'you do that?" He asks once you're finished explaining, and you furrow your eyebrows.

"Do what?"

"Make little things seem so beautiful." He answers easily, like you asked him what color the sky is. You don't know what to say. What are you supposed to say to something like that?

"'S just what art does." You shrug and break away from his gaze to look at the painting, if only to not feel him staring into your soul.

"No, it's what you do to it. 'S why those kids love you so damn much. You make everythin' feel like a masterpiece, even the little things." He's not flirting. He's not trying to persuade you to do one thing over another. He's genuine and heartfelt. You swear you would start crying if you had a little less sleep. You take a deep breath and lean into him for half a second, just enough to feel his body against yours, before standing upright again.

"Thank you."

"It's what friends are for," he says, leaning into you in return. "I should make sure they haven't seized the museum or anythin'."

"Oh, I can do it. You're a guest."

"And you work too hard," he stops you. "Take a break and enjoy what you love. The world won't end if you take some time for yourself." If ever there were awards to be given out for sweet talking, you think Joel Miller would win all of them.

"Okay," you say, and he walks behind you to move on to the next section. "You really wanna be my friend?" You ask before he can fully pass behind you, looking at him over your shoulder. He smiles devastatingly, light sparkling in his eyes, and nods.

"I really wanna be your friend." He says softly, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. He lingers for a second or two before finally making his way to the group of students, leaving you to scrutinize the painting you've been staring at for God knows how long.

The day crawls to an uneventful close, with you forcing all the students to take a picture in front of the museum for the yearbook. Joel takes your phone out of your hand and all but pushes you in the photo, and your students lovingly welcome you into their little group. In exchange, you grab Joel's phone and take cute pictures of him and Ellie for their own memories. They smile almost identically, and Ellie makes a fake annoyed face when Joel kisses her temple. Your fingers brush against each other when you hand it back, and for a second, you can feel the callouses from his job. It feels like unlocking a new piece of him or a new quirk.

Too bad this isn't a date. Too bad nothing can ever come of this. Too bad you had to meet this way. Too bad. Too bad.

The ride home is quiet and full of the clinking of backpacks and new souvenirs. When you get to the school, parents are waiting in the parking lot with fast food dinners and excited ears to hear all about their days. Almost everyone immediately slinks home, tired and happy, before you can even get close to the school doors. Almost everyone. Joel and Ellie help you carry your backpack and some things you bought for teaching purposes at the museum into your classroom. The school is virtually deserted, and you return to your room to find all the lamps flipped off and mostly positive notes from the sub.

"Dad, what are we gonna do for dinner?" Ellie groans as you sit in your chair and open your email quickly before you can pack up the rest of your stuff. Their dinner debate becomes background noise as you find your inbox full of annoyed messages from Dalton's parents, coaches, and even Principal Martinez regarding his grades. Under all that vitriol sits Henry's half-read message about his gallery opening, and you feel the perfect bubble of your day burst around you. Joel and Ellie seem to realize it because they're both quiet when you tune back into their conversation, and you turn in your chair to look at them.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks, and you snap out of it, putting on your best teacher everything-is-fine face.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just some emails. It's not important." You wave her off, but Joel isn't so easily convinced. He thinks for a second before pulling his keys out of his pocket and handing them to Ellie.

"Go get some practice driving." He says, jerking his head toward the door, and Ellie's eyes light up.

"Really?!"

"Just bring the car to the front, and don't hit anything!" He says, but she's already taken off with the keys and her stuff in an excited whirlwind. You laugh at her enthusiasm, and Joel leans against one of the desks near you, crossing his arms in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Your whole face fell when you opened that computer."

"It's nothing."

"If we're gonna be friends, you're gonna have to tell me if somethin's wrong otherwise I can't help you." He says, and you fight a smile.

"I don't know how you're gonna help me with this one." You say. He bumps your foot with his and gives you a pleading look. Big brown eyes on men like him should be illegal, you think.

"Talk to me." He begs quietly, and you take a deep breath.

"When I was in college, I dated this guy. He was an artist, too, and we were like the little power couple of our program. Things ended kinda badly and abruptly, and I hadn't heard from him since graduation until last week when he invited me to his gallery opening. I really don't want to go alone because, honestly, I haven't been able to get anything showcased in years, and I'm embarrassed. Plus, he broke my heart and made me feel like shit for a few years." You can't stop the words from falling from you once the dam is broken, but Joel doesn't flinch.

"Well, you've got friends to go with, right?"

"I do," you say. "But I want to invite you."

"Oh." He says, seemingly unintentionally.

"Oh." You repeat. "You can say no. I just thought... since we're friends and all now."

"I just... I don't..." he struggles before finally giving in to what he wants to say, what you think he's wanted to say all day. "I don't think I'm smart enough to go to somethin' like that. I don't know anythin' about art. I don't even know how to dress for those kinda things."

"Nobody knows anything about art. Not really, at least. Especially not Henry."

"You do."

"Then I'll stick with you all night and feed you lines about composition or some shit," you say. "And you just wear a nice shirt and some slacks. Maybe a suit jacket if you're feeling snazzy. It's really not as big a deal as people make it seem. We'll go, drink wine, say something about the colors, play nice, and then we'll leave. I'll have you home by 9:30. Earlier if you really hate it that much." He rolls his neck like he's rattling something around in his head or thinking about your offer, and all you can do is watch him and the way his Adam's apple pressing against the delicate skin of his throat. You're convinced he's gonna say no.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He finally asks, and you laugh.

"Not a date."

"Sounds like a date. You even promised to have me home to my girl at a reasonable time."

"Fine, it's a friend date."

"A friend date?" He raises his eyebrows at you, and you nod.

"It's perfectly normal to go on friend dates, Miller. You're just behind on the times."

"Seems like I am. Maybe you can bring me up to speed during the gallery opening?" He says, and your shoulders drop in relief. "I'll pick you up if you agree to help me not look like an idiot."

"You won't look like an idiot."

"Not with you there, I won't." He says, and you want to laugh, but you also want to tear up a little at his kindness. It's been a long week.

"Thank you, Joel. Really. I owe you." You say, and he nods.

"'S my pleasure," he says. For a minute, you two just stare at each other in your empty classroom like teenagers with an obvious crush. You think that's what you feel like. You think that's all you'll ever be able to feel for him. "I should go. I've got an impatient teenager waitin' for me."

"Yeah. Go get her some dinner, and I'll text you the details." You say as you stand to walk him out. He stands to his full height, opens his arms, and approaches you. You didn't think you were hugging territory, but as his arms wrapped around you, you couldn't help but hug him back.

"Goodnight." He says into your hair, lingering for another moment before disappearing as fast as he appeared.

"Goodnight," you say. With that, he starts walking to the open door with a smile stuck to his face. "Hey, Joel," you call before he can step over the threshold, and he turns around to look at you. "Art is for everyone, and even if it wasn't, you're more than smart enough to enjoy it."

"Yes, ma'am." He says with a half-salute and a wink before stepping out of your classroom. You let yourself rest against your desk and take a deep breath. Finally, you let yourself pull out your phone and read the rest of Henry's email detailing the time and place of the gallery.

I hope you can come. It would really mean a lot to me. I miss talking to you and even though things ended the way they did, I still love you.

See you soon,

Henry Hall

"Fuck that."

TAGLISR: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

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karmaisakhaleesi · 1 year

Text

Astronomy chap. 1 Neteyam Sully x human!fem!reader

master list-

It's astronomy, we're two worlds apart

1.3k+ word count

warnings- anxiety/panic attacks, death, illness, lmk if i missed any!

comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this!

Neteyam x human!fem!reader

---

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you walk down the steps of the cargo ship. You feel the start of a migraine when the mask tightens around your head. The only barrier between life and death at the hands of asphyxia. You shudder at the thought and take in the base, concrete buildings along with bulldozers, and in the distance, the lush greenery of a forest makes you all the more homesick. But you grin and bear it, your Mother's words echoing through you, "Live your life, I'll be fine. It's not like there's much for me to do here anyway."

The memory was bittersweet, having been right after her diagnosis. You shook your head, shoving it away, you promised you wouldn't cry. Just yet.

A woman interrupted you briefly introducing herself and guided you inside. You quickly followed, the sound of air escaping as the doors closed behind you.

"So Miss, Augustine, how do you feel?"

The blonde woman, whose name you had briefly forgotten asked. You felt a flush creep up my cheeks, "Um, well, it's a lot different than back home. But I should be fine!" I fumbled over my words fiddling with the strap of my backpack.

"Good, well I'll leave you to it, remember, dinners at 1900 hours!" she said leaving briskly, the sound of her shoes echoing against the linoleum floors.

You glance at the small room that greeted you. Nothing but a small grey cot and matching desk cramped into the small room. Your bag hits the bed with a thud, "Whelp, time to regret my life choices for the next ten hours," you sigh.

___

"Are you insane?!? Have you lost it?!? She's nothing but a child!" a male voice shouted from behind the office door.

You flinched, and he sounded pissed. You sucked in a deep breath knocking on the door.

"We have had this discussion several times might I remind you, Doctor Moran. And we will not have it again. You know why she is here, are we clear?"

"You've gone mad!"

You flinched again as the door flew open and a man with a mess of gray hair regarded you with a look of pure disdain. He then stormed past you nearly knocking you down.

"Miss Augustine, it's nice to see you. Please, come in," the general greeted.

She shuffled some papers off her desk and into a drawer. Giving you a tight-lipped smile she gestured for you to take a seat. You tentatively sat down in the brown leather swivel chair, the only thing of color in the small gray room you noted.

Your hands clenched the arms of the chair, bracing yourself for the words about to leave her mouth.

"Now I see here that you have all of the required degrees and specifications for the job I've offered you," she paused to pull a paper off of her desk.

"Graduated Harvard summa cum laude, in undergrad. Top of your class in grad school, and completed your Ph.D. thesis on Pandoran ecology to earn your doctorate degree all at or before the age of fifteen. Quite an impressive resume, if I say so myself."

You frown, eyes finding the floor a much more interesting subject than your many degrees and accomplishments.

General Ardmore gives you another tight-lipped smile before she pulls a pen out and hands it out to you. She then pushes a paper towards you, "Now let's cut to the chase, shall we?"

You sigh and nod your head in affirmation, hand shaking, pen tip hovering on the stark white paper.

"You sign this and your Mother's cured. Well as long as you hold up your end of the deal, Miss Augustine," she gives yet another smile, but you can see that it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

You quickly sign, biting your lip to hold back the tears you can feel burning to be let go.

"Yes, understood ma'am."

"Good! Now that that's been taken care of, let's get you ready to ship out!"

She spins her chair around to stand, her shoes echoing through the hall as you stand to follow.

___

You glance wearily at the helicopter before someone tosses your bag into a seat, you glance over at a woman with sunglasses gives you a curt smile through her mask, and walks to the pilot seat. You carefully sit down next to your bag and strap the seatbelt as tight as you can, also seatbelting your bag. Just so that it won't fall out, you think to yourself as you hear the chopper blades start whirring defeating you.

You feel a tap on your shoulder as the General gives you a thumbs up, a bit of warning in her eyes. You nod soundlessly as you take off, gasping at the feeling.

---

Your feet touch solid ground after what feels like forever and you carefully undo your and your bag's seatbelts. You clutch your bag tightly to your chest, scared you'll lose it. A man greets you and shakes your hand, "Dr. Spellman! It's a pleasure to meet you!"

You return the handshake and nod, too nervous to speak.

You follow him into the facility and the familiar whoosh of air signals the doors closing behind you. You quickly take off your mask and take a deep breath.

"So, how was your, um, trip?" Dr. Spellman asks, wringing his hands as he guides you to your room.

"It was, uneventful," you reply setting your bag down in a similarly grey room, desk, bed, and all.

"Well, that's good," he replies.

You glance up at him, he seems, nervous. Or scared, maybe a mix of both. You knew things had changed since your Aunt Grace left for Pandora, mostly for the worst. You were surprised they had even let you come, well not to the base, but to the old facility. You had figured they would refuse, but with the omission of your role with the military, they reluctantly agreed.

"You seem, nervous," Dr. Spellman sputtered in the middle of his explanation, denying your accusation, but his face flushed a deep red.

"Well, yes, just a bit," he paused eyes widening as he quickly shut a door, whisper shouting at something you couldn't see.

A flurry of hushed voices in a language you somewhat recognized followed. You frowned turning to Spellman opening your mouth before the opened interrupting you mid-sentence.

You gasped as a group of, Na'vi and one human pushed open the door. The human looked to be around your age, long messy blonde hair obscured his face and blue markings covered his body. You flinched as their confused looks turned to hisses of defense, which caused you to stumble back and trip over a small box.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for impact, only to feel a warm hand enclosed around your arm. You blinked slowly and looked on to see a deep blue hand enclosed around yours keeping you from falling face-first onto the floor. Heat crept up your face as the hand dropped your arm as if it were on fire.

"Okay, everybody," Dr. Spellman interrupted, "Please calm down, I will explain in two seconds!"

He sighed exasperatedly, pointing to you, "This is Dr. Augustine, Dr. Grace Augustine's niece."

"And they are Neteyam, Lo'ak, Kiri, Tuktirey, and Miles," he paused looking towards them warily.

They returned the wariness.

"Your my mother's niece?" the older girl interrupted.

You give her a nervous smile, feeling an anxiety attack coming on, "Yes, I'm y/n Augustine. My mom is your mother's sister, Selene Augustine."

You can feel your throat tightening and vision blurring as the girl, Kiri you believe? Questions you excitedly. You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, and that's when the world goes black.

___

i hope you like chapter 1! chapter 2 should be out soon!

if you'd like to be added to the taglist please leave a comment!

and request for avatar and avatar the way of water are open!!! feel free to ask for anything really!

Taglist-

@phantomalex14

#neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x y/n #jake sully #loak sully #neytiri #avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #sully family #neteyam x human!reader

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vintage-lattes · 17 days

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13.04.24 // saturday

hey guys its been a while since ive posted on here so i thought id share some life updates

♡ i got into college! im studying architecture and im almost done w 2/10 semesters (since it's a 5y course here)

♡ i stay in a hostel 6h away from home and ive adjusted quite decently except for the food sometimes

♡ two (ish) weeks ago i git teally homesick and went home for 2 days just to eat biriyani and i have zero regrets

♡ i don't really have a fixed study space anymore because my work is mostly drawing/drafting and there's not really enough space in my room to work because all my sheets are a2 sized. so i do all my work in the common study hall at my hostel

♡ so now i decorate the space above my bed with posters/ movie scenes printed out

idk what else to say, life goes on. the climate here is much hotter than back home so I've been bathing myself in sunscreen before college every morning. ive been obsessed with too sweet by andrew and the entire found heaven album and obviously im going insane about ttpd next week (??!!?)

the past year ive gotten really into cooking pasta (if even a single person tells me to post it, I will spam <3), i got a djungelskog for my birthday in march and i have literally never loved a stuffed toy more than this and i miss my salt lamp so so much

i can't think of anything else but send me asks if you wanna chat!!

love, ree

#studyblr #study in india #students #academicsunite #vintage-lattes #university #college #architecture studyblr

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enthyrea · 7 months

Note

hi storm hope you're well :0 here's your reminder to drink water and eat something if you haven't already!!!

can I ask about your fav macheresin headcanons??

HI CY i love you! i just had lunch <3 hope you are hydrated and well!

i have soooo many headcanons for these two idiots. its actually insane. these are disorganized sorry

my personal fav rn is like. they are so telepathically connected that even pre-relationship, if one of them is getting hit on at a bar, the other just magically appears behind them like "is this guy bothering you, baby?" and they both fall into that fake-fiancee shtick SOOO fast. they do it constantly to the point where some people actually think they are engaged.

they would have a marriage pact like "if we arent married by 30 we have to get engaged" and they're serious about it but in a bro way. then jake turns 30, they get engaged for real because ofc and then feelings start to show? after the GLOC incident jake claims to be javy's husband to get past hospital staff to see him, and the daggers are like "YALL ARE MARRIED??" and then it just devolves from there and they realize oh. yeah we actually do like each other (i have a whole riff about this that i've been thinking of writing lol)

jake's love language as acts of service <3 he memorizes the recipe for javy's favorite gumbo and makes it for his birthday/whenever javy's feeling particularly homesick !!

ALSO. i think they're very "practically married but oblivious" like they 'save money' by living together (its totally not because they feel so much more comfortable staying with the other) saving on heating bills by cuddling. platonically. of course. like literally

bob: one time i ran into them while they were at the flower gardens on valentines day. they told me it wasnt a date and they just wanted to take advantage of the free couple's package reuben: oh so they're hopeless

its to the point where their respective families actually think they're together. two of jake's sisters think he's already married to javy. javy's dad is convinced they're just long term pranking him. considering javy brings jake home for thanksgiving every year without fail, his dad is about to strangle him if he doesnt confess and or get married to this white boy TOMORROW

basically i think they're very stupid but i am obsessed with them and their frat boy energy.

(also related but post-getting together: when javy gets drunk he just starts blabbering about jake to anyone who will listen (no one wants to listen) meanwhile drunk jake is just falling over himself tryna kiss javy while javy's like "down boy! no! not in public!" (he is weak and will eventually give up and let jake smother him in kisses))

#not my art #just chatting #macheresin #hangman x coyote #coyote x hangman #top gun maverick #top gun headcanons

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ilovemesomevincentprice · 10 months

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Okay, so the other night I fell down a rabbit hole of sorts. I found some post cards that Vincent had written to his daughter and his (ex) wife Mary. I just think they're so sweet. So I'm sharing them here. These do NOT belong to me. So I do NOT take credit. I just think they're awesome. I'll also do my best to translate in case anyone has any problem reading his writing.

This is a postcard he send to his daughter, Victoria in 1965. Look at the hearts he drew at the top!!!! Whyyyy is this so damn precious?! Moving on... It reads:

Dearest Toria - I love my Easter present - your pictures are beautiful but they make me homesick to see you. It won't be long now and we will have lots of fun when we are together again - I'll make you popovers and meat sticks in the fire and will plant a tree on your birthday and have a big cake! My movie is finally going pretty well but I wish I was doing it at home. Thanks Myrna for the letter. All my love, Daddy

This post card was sent to his ex-wife Mary in the mid 70s. By this time, he was married to Coral Browne, but remained close friends with Mary. According to their daughter, there was an inside joke to this postcard (which I never understood - but maybe it's not for me to understand :) ) it reads:

Of course I never saw it - who has? The trip to Hong Kong was endless and I've been working my tail off doing publicity, etc. But still find Hong Kong fascinating even tho it's twice as big and as crowded as before - I overlook the bay to the peninsula now nestled unhappily in a forest of skyscrapers but I hear still good. All my love, Vincent *SIGH*

This post card was sent to his daughter, Victoria and his ex wife Mary Price in February of 1975. Again, he was married to Coral Browne but remained close friends with his ex wife Mary. His daughter once said, "I was lucky that my parents remained friends after the divorce. They wanted what's best for each other and for me, which wasn't always easy because of my stepmother." Which, I could understand her stepmother's point of view, there. But still, it's insanely sweet that they remained good friends.

It reads: Dearest Tor. This is one of the fun things in the great modern museum here in Buffalo. The tour goes well but the weathers terrible. I was 8 hours late getting here but didn't miss the lecture. Love to you both, Dad.

This letter was sent to his daughter, Victoria in 1976. It reads: Dearest Torsie. On my way to Ohio to rehearse Oliver - had a nice talk with your mama who says you're having a ball - I'd love to hear from you and so am sending a couple of cards to write on- do send them in the next week or so as I'll be here until the 20th - but so will you! All love to you! Dad.

This post card was sent to his ex wife, Mary and his daughter Victoria in 1979. It reads:

Dearest M + V (Mary and Victoria) Well it slipped into town and seems to be doing very well though it's very strange management but quite legitimate - a lovely theater and set and nice people but NY audiences are not as vociferous as Denver, etc. still it's nice to be here and I love living in Gramercy park. I walk to work but taxi home. I've decided to do only a few head one nighters as it's too difficult to check everything and play it too. Still love doing it however - All Love Dad

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winterstaryu · 20 days

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After my mom died, I found a blog she ran from like, 2006-2011.

It was insane to read, honestly. She talked about the neglect like it was just something that happened. We never had enough food, she felt guilty. She still left us alone.

There's one post, talking about how GRATEFUL she was to have such independent kids, that she was able to leave for a week to go to a conference and we were all fine at our grandparents.

I remember that week. I remember not really knowing where she was, but knowing that my Dad was angry about it. I remember being so homesick I couldn't stop crying.

And another one, about how she 'pulled off' leaving us alone for 24hrs while she was at a birth. My oldest brother watched us for most of it, he was 15 and there were 5 of us, the youngest was 2.

I just. I remember the time CPS was called to check on us. I was 14, it was a Wednesday, we were on our way to my grandmother's house, and I told her that I was worried about my siblings too. My brother was almost 9 and still couldn't read.

She pulled over to the side of the freeway, and told me that if that was how I felt, I could get out and walk home. Sitting there, with the cars rushing past us and my siblings sobbing in the back seat, was probably the most scared I've ever been in my life. I apologized, and begged her to keep driving.

She told me she couldn't believe she'd just spent $500 on me. It was for treatment for my scoliosis.

I. There isn't a point here, it's just. All

been on my mind lately

#a clover? a talking clover!?#neglect #parental death #tw abuse #just in case?

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linghxr · 1 year

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What I’m watching (cdrama edition)

I don’t really talk about cdramas on this blog except for this one ask I responded to over 1 1/2 years ago. I’ve been branching out and watching more Chinese-language shows lately, so I thought I’d share what I’ve been watching.

Already watched:

《想见你》 Someday or One Day Unless I’m forgetting something, this was the first Chinese-language show I ever finished (I previously started but abandoned a few others). It’s a love story but also a mystery and kind of a time travel story, so it really has something for everyone. I am not a romance fan, but I ended up crying over the relationship. I was somewhat disappointed by the movie version, which only made me think more highly of the show honestly.

《开端》 Reset I couldn’t watch this show late at night because it really got my adrenaline pumping, and I just couldn’t turn it off! If you want a show that that will have you on the edge of your seat but also has a more human side, then definitely check this out. The characters were very memorable, and the show was the perfect length in my opinion. I think this show deserved all the hype it got.

《流星花园》（2018） Meteor Garden (2018) I decided to check this out because I’ve seen a lot of reference to Meteor Garden over the years. I chose the 2018 version because I could not bring myself to look at 2001 hairstyles. This show starts out as kind of an enemies-to-lovers story but then shifts to just a romance story. My interest waned a bit by the second half—I think they should have kept it under 40 episodes. I also didn’t really care for the subplots involving the secondary characters.

《摇滚狂花》 Rock it, Mom This was a very short drama and a quick watch. It’s about a has-been rock singer reuniting with her estranged daughter. At first, it felt fresh and interesting, but it got old fast. I felt like the characters didn’t have much growth or development. I also found the ending to be unsatisfying.

Currently watching:

《消失的孩子》 The Disappearing Child I've been watching this show gradually with my friends, and we’re almost done! We’re all really enjoying it. As the name suggests, there is a child who disappears, but there’s also two other storylines involved. We were going crazy trying to guess how the three would connect. Now that the plotlines are starting to converge, the payoff is insane. This show will hook you instantly but also keep you on your toes.

《猎罪图鉴》 Under the Skin I am about 1/3 through this show, which I’m watching...with my dad! It follows an artist working as a police sketch artist and a police detective, both of who are haunted by a past murder that connects them. I don’t think this show is very realistic, and it’s also hard to follow at times, but I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes.

《你安全吗？》 Are You Safe? I watched the first few episodes of this show but then stopped because I was watching too many shows at once. I’m determined to at least give it another go. So far it’s about a man who works as a technology consultant/vigilante hacker(?). I’m not sure where it’s going because frankly I don’t remember what has happened so far.

《她和她的她》 Shards of Her I literally just started this show, so I don’t even really know what it’s about or what will happen. But it looked interesting, and I heard it was good.

On my radar/watchlist:

《隐秘的角落》 The Bad Kids

《沉默的真相》 The Long Night

《狂飙》 The Knockout

《摩天大楼》 A Murderous Affair in Horizon Tower (shoutout to @liu-anhuaming)

《回来的女儿》 Homesick

As you may have noticed, I’m mostly interested in short mystery/crime shows. Police lingo is difficult for me to understand, but hopefully I will improve as I watch more shows!

#cdrama #cdramas #my watchlist

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madisonbeersource · 2 months

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hi hi, yesterday was opening night alxkozmdmdpappdpd

o.m.g. this tour is insane. like the setlist is everything. the whole selfish-at ur worst-ryder part? had me sobbing behind my screen. ALSO HOMESICK HELLO. i also loved baby and make you mine (cuntison at her finest). and some people are saying that tyler durden was actually the surprise song, so guess we'll see tonight!

however, i am kind of sad for nmby and dangerous (especially dangerous bc of the orchestra) and i dont really like the merch that much... like the cheetah print is definitely not my vibe, and also it's so expensive?! but asides from that, madison was so happy and the show is still fire.

what're ur thoughts (on everything)?

YES OMG SHE LOOKED SO GOOD AND HAPPY :')

the set list is SO FREAKING GOOD!! we'll dive from baby to spinnin and end up w follow the white rabbit!!! OMG I CANNOT WAIT idk if the setlist's gonna change each time BUT ISTG i cannot wait and to see more of the wardrobe! HOMESICK IS IN THERE SHE HEARD ME :') i'm so happy like to see everything she does makes her so happy and her tour is gonna be so thought over you know and i'm so exited for the Q&A and meet some other fans of mads like we are UGH. OMG YES i thought about this too maybe she'll change i hope so i kinda hope each concert will be unique!

nmby could've been bomb especially when u have heartless in here like i love heartless but i wish it was any other songs tbh and i actually liked the merch like i don't see the cheetah print u talk about? her happiness is GLOWING

honestly it makes me so exited to see it w my own eyes honestly to see her as i've been a fan of hers for over a decade???? like this is crazy so she could literally sing baby shark i wouldn't care I think i'll buy some of her merch cause it's one time in my life better make the most of it, also I can't wait to sing my lungs out and i hope i'll meet super cool people (and even one person that knows about this blog how SICK this would be) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i'm exited for all of it!!

#ask

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hetchdrive · 4 months

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SLEEPOVER SATURDAY YAYYYY I have 2.

1. Because I’m still stuck in fucking Texas, top 3 best US states

2. Top potential AU’s for The Terror

Oh noooooo wishing you a speedy departure tomorrow!

I've lived a lot of places and done a lot of road tripping and without further details on which to define "best" I'm going to go with the three states I feel the most personal connection to and say Wisconsin, Minnesota, Michigan. I love Lake Superior, I grew up in that area and sometimes I am very homesick for it. I've been trying to develop the same feeling of connection to the landscape in New England since transplanting and I'm not going to lie, it is rough going. I keep saying I am going to try to get into hiking and rock identification so I can see the mountains and maybe 2024 is the year I buckle down and do that.

First off: Star Trek AU obviously. I'm really bad at coming up with plots and writing long fics but I am beginning to take notes for a Star Trek AU in case the Terror SciFi Fest happens again this upcoming May.

Secondly: Ghosts/spiritualism/haunted house AU. While I do enjoy a good modern AU from time to time, to me part of the draw of The Terror is the time period it is set. I am fascinated by the Victorian era, the advances in medicine during the time period, the rise in popularity of ghosts and ghost stories, and I think I'd get a lot of enjoyment out of researching to write an AU that takes advantage of this somehow.

Also, I am obsessed with haunted houses as they are used to represent familial trauma, codependence, grief and loneliness, etc etc, and I think it would be fun to take Crozier out of The Horrors only to put him into a different flavor of The Horrors <3

Lastly: Musicians/orchestra AU. Gonna be honest, I do not have any of the requisite knowledge to write this and it does not interest me enough to do this research. I want somebody else to write this so I can read it. However, I saw a post once that was the show writer going through and saying what each character's job would be if they lived in the modern day and what he said about Fitzjames was that he'd be a surgeon or somebody else with very specialized knowledge, someone who is the best at something. And while yeah, a specialist surgeon is this, and specialist surgeons are, in my experience, divas with complexes, for reasons of personal taste (dislike of the medical field irl and preference for show contemporary AUs over modern ones) I think it would be more interesting to just skip over the medical layer and make Fitzjames a diva with a complex.

This man plays the violin and he is the best at it and he and Crozier cannot stand each other because Crozier has been playing longer, does not care about the limelight, and actively scorns Fitzjames for doing so. I just have this idea in my head of Fitzjames saying to someone else that Crozier plays a perfectly serviceable, workmanlike violin, but he obviously doesn't truly care for it, he doesn't play with any passion, and Fitzjames who has been doing this his whole life and made it his whole life, the only thing he's ever been good at that he's had to hang all his hopes on, finds that intolerable. Meanwhile Crozier cares about the violin very deeply but doesn't really show it to anybody and keeps to himself because loving music and loving your coworkers are two different things.

Additional inspiration for this idea is the fact that when Phantom of the Opera shut down on Broadway a couple months ago (last year? What is the passage of time...) I saw a news article about it which said some of the people in the orchestra had been playing the show together since it started running in 1986. The drama within that pit must have been insane and I desperately want to read about it.

#this got away from me #clandestinegardenias #asks

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queenofbaws · 11 months

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Is this a prompt or is this just me blabbing nonsense words as I spew vast amounts of word vomit into your inbox? Who knows! All I know is that I've apparently decided that I needed to share this with someone, and that (un)lucky someone is you lol.

Anyways, for some reason I can't stop thinking about trash trio sleepovers. But not the events that take place during the sleepovers, just that little bit when they've all gotten into bed at the end of a busy night and are actually trying to go to sleep.

Specifically, those all too rare nights when Josh is actually the first to fall asleep, leaving Chris and Ashley as the two still awake. And I just feel like on those nights, they spend a frankly insane amount of hours forcing themselves to stay awake as they just talk. Bundled up under borrowed blankets and thankful for the darkness of whatever bedroom or livingroom they've crashed in for the night hiding tired yet utterly besotted smiles and completely enamored faces as they do their best to stay quiet so they don't wake anyone up, even as they can't stop giggling and laughing every couple of minutes. Just, like, taking about everything and nothing as they both selfishly not allow the other to go to bed, not wanting to put a stop to these oh so rare moments when it's quiet and soft and private. It's just *them*.

So they can't help but stay up way too late, until the point hits where they're both so overtired that their once carefully constructed and guarded filter starts to crumble and one or both of them is like seconds away from blurting out 'so I think I'm maybe in love with you.'

I've also decided that this is probably the closest that either of them get to actually saying anything about it, and yet it happens more often than either would like lmao. Like they probably get out the first couple of words before their brain finally catches up to their mouth and then they're making flustered and mortified excuses/realizations about how it's like 5 in the morning or something so they should definitely absolutely go to bed as they roll over and end whatever conversation they were having abruptly and seemingly out of nowhere lol.

And yet, when they get up grouchy and grumpy in the morning, you know that neither of them regret even a single hour of it 💖

(i am very sorry about this word vomit you are about to wake up to lol. Haven't been able to stop thinking of this for weeks cause I love how warm and gushy it makes me feel fhdkskdhdkshd)

There were a lot of downsides to Josh being a heavy sleeper - and 'a lot' meant a lot, the list running the gamut from the relatively harmless (e.g., having to find a way to wrestle your arm out from under his dead weight if you made the mistake of falling asleep in his general vicinity) to the downright torturous (e.g., the snoring) - but as the prince of horror taketh, so too did he giveth, at least in a sense.

Him being able to sleep through a mass extinction event meant they only had to pretend to whisper.

"It's really not all it's cracked up to be, y'know," Chris said, was saying, had been saying, the conversation about college life having long-since turned into something else by virtue of how many times they'd circled around it, turning it over and over again like a craggled rock thrown into a polisher until it became smooth, "I mean, don't get me wrong...there's a certain kind of beauty to just having to swipe your ID at the dining halls and not having anyone raise an eyebrow when you say, like, 'Why yes I do think I'll be having another burrito for breakfast, my good sir,' but...eh, sometimes I wish I was still here."

In the half-light of the basement, only the ambient glow of entertainment center lights there to cast a bluish cast about the place, he couldn't see Ashley so much as imagine her there, a faint rustle from the couch suggesting she'd rolled over or tugged her blanket up. "Awww," she teased, "sounds like someone's homesick, huh?"

That was one word for it, he guessed, though it wasn't quite the right one; neither was it the wrong one, it just...it was too vague, too open, too, too, too nonspecific, because 'homesick' meant you were missing home, but did it mean the same thing when the home you were missing was a person and not a place?

"Or maybe I just don't know how to function when you're not around to roll your eyes at me, you ever think of that?" he asked, and he smiled when she laughed, Chris did (because that, in a way, was its own sort of home, and another one he'd been sick for, if he was being honest), but he wished he could find courage enough in that darkness to admit aloud to her that he hadn't been joking at all - not even a little bit.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

#love-fireflysong #six sentence weekend #queenie writes supermassive #until dawn #chrashley #askldfjslakdjf oh my GOD please do not apologize for this - now IM going to be thinking about this at all hours aksdjflaksjdf #thE WARM FUZZIES OF IT ALL!!!!!!

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