A Work in Progress

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 1

Steve and Eddie have been hooking up and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

———

“For the record, I still think this is dumb.” Lucas said over the wind.

“Yeah, well, you’re dumb.” Mike said, sharp witted as always.

“Got you there.” Will grinned, sidling up beside him on his bike. Mike shot him a look, vaguely betrayed. Will shrugged innocently and kept peddling.

“Alright, alright, let the court record reflect you’re both morons.” Dustin sighed, peddling between the bickerer’s bikes and cutting ahead.

by hitlikehammers

“Not that I’m not enjoying the hell out of this,” Eddie gasps between Steve Harrington’s lips, the fuck even is his life right now; “but this is,” and Steve breaks away and Eddie kind of hates that, but he made his bed: time to lie in it.

“What is this? Just, like, end of the world horniness, right?”

And Eddie forces his gaze to Steve’s face, where his eyes are blown and his color’s off, but his gaze is still so tender, like whatever hurt comes for what he’s about to do is acceptable, so long as it doesn’t touch Eddie. Like he’s…shielding Eddie from something worse than everything that’s already come, somehow, and that’s fucking terrifying in and of itself but—

But Steve—who he barely knows but feels like he knows somewhere deep in his chest—Steve protecting Eddie, and hurting all the more for taking the hit?

It’s unacceptable. It’s sour in Eddie’s veins.

“If I fuck it up again, it won’t matter, I guess,” Steve speaks almost to himself, like he’s reasoning with the universe.

That tips the sour feeling straight into full on sick.

-

Or: how many times does Steve have to endure a time loop of Eddie’s death before something…shifts?

Words: 5487, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

so much world building, so little usable writing

me when I unironically read hitlers mein kampf for our history seminar on how fascism attracts

ain’t no party like a Gatsby party because a Gatsby party don’t stop until at least two people are dead and everyone is disillusioned with the jazz age as a whole

oh hey happy 100k notes to this post. one time i saw someone in my college dining hall wearing it on a tank top