#I feel like as kids while they may have been interested in games like that they kind of turned their noses at them bc they didn't the point

[levisrations]

Dad'Levi in the Morden au?

Dad Levi in a modern au is against ipads. Refuses to let your child use one. The occasional miss rachel on tv but that’s it.

Am i completely pushing it by saying Levi would love to be a stay at home dad? He would love his routines with his baby. But he will feel relief when you get back to take over once you’ve showered and changed.

This is me projecting by I love the thought of after dinner, everything is clean, all three of you spend time together in the living room while you play a video game and the baby rests on your chest. Baby is comforted by the two of you just talking about your day and you play your video games.

Levis the hot dad at baby swimming classes. Everyone swoons at him and are shocked by how hands on he is.

Constantly has to take away remotes and phones out your babys hands/mouth. Finds it amusing when the kid dramatically falls and starts crying over having something taken away. He just sits there and stares until the kid calms down, offers options so they can forget what they were even crying about.

Shopping with your kid is actually fun. A well behaved baby. Sits in the cart(which levi disinfected like crazy) and babbles and points at things. Baby loves to smile and wave at strangers which forces levi to interact with strangers (not a fan of that but his kid is happy)

Levi would most definitely be looking into prestigious pre schools as soon as he learned you we’re expecting. You would go tour the schools and he would have a million questions. Particularly how do they keep clean with a bunch of 3 to 4 year olds.

Very into your kid’s interests. Whatever they may be he would look it up so he can talk to your kid about it, buy him things about kid’s interests, take them places like museums or pop ups of whatever it is they’re interested in. He would love it because it’s bonding time.

And lastly Levis phone would be all pictures of your kid. It was pictures of you and your cats but it’s been overtaken by your child. Videos of your child being silly that he watches on a bad day, shares them with you while you’re at work or shows them to you before bed and you both laugh at them.

Levi absolutely loves being a dad, loves raising a child with you. He was absolutely nervous in the beginning i mean who wouldn’t be but he got the hang of it really quick and now can’t even think of a time when he didn’t have your child in his life.

Perhaps not what you asked for anon but appreciate the request nonetheless! 🫶🏽

#levi ackerman #levi #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot #levi aot #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #dadvi

[ostrichchariot]

"That's dumb," says Karna. "I think that's dumb. Why can the knight just jump over shit? What's so special about him, huh?"

"Just, uh. Just good at moving, I guess," says Colin, taking the black rook and placing it on his side of the table. It sits there, solid, beside the haphazard array of pawns and a single bishop.

Karna pouts a little. In front of her, on the table, there sit three white pawns, all stood perfectly in line. "'Good at moving.' Urgh. So am I. He's not special." She frowns, and moves a pawn two spaces forward. Colin winces involuntarily, and she glares at him. "What? What did I do?"

"So... I may have forgotten to mention this one. I, uh. I didn't really think it would come up for, uh. Longer than this. To be honest." He gives her a slightly wary look. "You... you ever heard of 'en passant'?"

"'In passing' in Fructeran," she says brusquely. "Now explain."

"Now- ok, I promise I'm not making this one up-" He moves a white pawn to just behind hers, which he smoothly plucks from the board and sets down amongst the cluster of other pieces in front of him.

There is a short silence.

"Are you kidding me," says Karna, voice flatter than the void of space, empty and silent and oh, so deep, and-

"To be fair, that- that's probably one of the stupidest rules I know. If that helps?" says Colin.

"Fine. Fine!" she says. "Sure."

"You know," says Colin delicately, "I could still-"

"No," snaps Karna. "You will not play without a queen." She glares at him with even more ferocity than usual, and lowers her voice to a dangerous drawl. "When I win. If I suspect even for a second that you went easy on me?" Her lip curls into a smirk. "Oh, that would be that last thing you ever did."

"Sure," says Colin. "I mean, sure. I just think it would make the game a bit more fun for you while you're learning. You know?"

Karna rolls her eye. "I want to lose."

"...What?" There is suddenly a deep, unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I want to lose," she says. "Because it doesn't matter." She grasps his forearms and stares into his eyes, as though willing him to understand. "I want so badly to know what it feels like for losing not to matter. I want to know the loss that is an annoyance, not an ache, not a scar, not a slit throat or a knife in the gut and bleeding out on the pavement."

The hands holding him start to weaken. Rot starts to creep up her neck.

Her pupils are dark voids filled with spinning blades.

"It was too much," she says. "I was so tired. You saw." Her gaze is level, and he remembers running away, and running away, and running away, and looking back. "I was holding on to the edge for so long."

Colin wants to say something. He doesn't know what to say.

"But you can't hold on forever."

And she lets go.

---

He wakes up, and it is still dark, and he is alone.

He never knew her that well, but- she would have been good at chess, he thinks, if she had ever had a chance to learn. Not straight away, of course, but- in time.

No point in dwelling on it. He doesn't want to risk turning into Raphaniel, and- ok, that's another whole thing he's really not interested in delving into right now.

But- she held on for so long.

It seems like the least he can do, to make sure no one else ever has to stare into the void and cling to life so desperately that the muscle of their fingers rots down to bone.

#dimension 20 #the ravening war #colin provolone #karna solara #my writing #the ravening war spoilers

[yaksha-lover]

I've been thinking about the twst guys + mainly wondering who'd be most likely to get baby fever,,,

Malleus is definitely high on the list imo, as is Kalim... I think also Deuce and Rook?

Leona might not. He's already tired of dealing with Che'ka, he's probably not interested in the idea of raising a kid himself lol.

This is aged-up/set in the future where all of them are at least mid to late twenties and thinking about having children!

Most to Least Likely to Get Baby Fever:

Most Likely

Kalim had so many younger siblings growing up that he loved. That, combined with his friendly and social nature, makes me think he would love to have kids and a lot of them too. He’d be so excited to have his own family so he’d definitely get baby fever once he had a partner.

Malleus doesn’t have a lot of experience with children, but I think having a family of his own is something he would like because of his desire for closeness and a sense of domesticity, especially once he has a partner that he loves. You can’t stop this man from sweet talking you into having the next royal heir (and many more, after that).

Rook, despite what his proclivities might suggest, is very loving and dedicated to his family. He’s surprisingly domestic with his ability to cook and clean, and he loves children. He’s the most likely to have baby fever and randomly come home one day with a bunch of orphans for you to adopt.

Lilia already has Silver, of course, and I think he’d be very nostalgic for Silver’s childhood when he was still just a young baby. I imagine he’d love to relive that eventually, especially if he has a partner by his side to help him give Silver some siblings.

Jack’s wolf beastman thing about having only one partner his entire life makes me think that he’s much more domestic than he lets on. He wants the whole mate for life and have a family fantasy, and he’d definitely start to feel the baby fever once he had a partner he’s settled down with.

Deuce also has a domestic fantasy of sorts, I think he’d want to have children, but he’d also be shy about it. When he sees you playing with the neighbourhood kids, he can’t help but think about having kids together. His mom also bugs him about grandkids, so he’s encouraged by that too.

Trey is absolute househusband material, so he definitely gets baby fever once he’s settled down. I think he’d love to have kids and is pretty confident he’d be a great father, so he doesn’t feel the need to repress his desire to have a family once him and his partner have settled into their lives.

Cater wants children, probably gets baby fever from all the family vlog content he sees. You really have to sit him down and ask him if he knows all the responsibility that no one talks about. He’ll need some time to learn, but once he does he’s game on again and wanting to be a dad.

Ruggie is ambivalent because while he’s used to taking care of the kids in his town (and it comes naturally to him), he knows how insanely expensive kids can be. Once he gets a good enough job to only have to work one, I think he wouldn’t want to go back to working multiple all to have a kid. Thus, has baby fever occasionally but the cold hands of capitalism drag him back to reality.

Vil is someone I think would like to have a couple kids someday, but he’s in no rush considering his career. As he gets older and starts to see everyone else his age have a family, he would start to romanticize it more and more in his mind until he’s coming to you and asking to have a baby with his blond hair and your beautiful eyes.

Silver is relatively levelheaded, so he may get mild baby fever once he has a partner that he’s settled down with, but it’s never a huge priority in his mind. May daydream about it occasionally, but it’s a ‘see as we go’ type thing, not a decided plan.

Sebek is pretty traditional because of his upbringing, thus he does want kids with his partner eventually. At the same time, Sebek and kids don’t exactly mesh. He’d be a lot more mature at this point which would help, but his interactions with children do lessen his baby fever occasionally.

Jade is pretty relaxed about it, while he might want to have children, it’s more planned than anything. He’s aware of the responsibilities and fine with them, he just wants to wait for the right time. Also, he doesn’t care too much for other people’s children, so it will be more the situation with his partner that makes him eager to have his own family.

Floyd does get struck with moments of baby fever, but his mood swings mean it’s often just a passing thought that will dispel as soon as he remembers that kids aren’t just fun and rainbows 24/7. He finds kids fun, but can’t handle the responsibility of a lifetime commitment. Every time he starts to hint that he might want kids with you again, you just have to show him a picture of a diaper and he’ll be like ‘oh wait nvm.’

Epel is kind of in between, he doesn’t hate children but he doesn’t particularly love them either. He would want a family eventually, but doesn’t get struck with the urge to have babies particularly often, only when he’s feeling nostalgic for his own family.

Riddle is pretty self-aware about his trauma, and it scares him away from having children. He does want his own child, but he’s too afraid to become his mother. If you reassure him enough, he’ll let the domestic fantasy overtake his fear, and start to get excited about having a child in the future.

Azul is too busy working to really think about having a family. He wouldn’t mind having one or two eventually, but he doesn’t really dream about having kids when you and his work keep him busy enough.

Ace doesn’t have the patience for kids or the desire to have them. He’s happy to be the fun uncle to his brother’s kids and give them back once they need actual parenting. He might want to have one kid eventually, but he’d much rather it just be him and his partner for now.

Idia knows he can barely take care of himself, how can anyone expect him to take care of a kid? He’s happy with his little family of you and Ortho, no baby fever for Idia.

Jamil’s already had a child to take care of his whole life (Kalim) so he’s disillusioned with the fantasy of domestic bliss and having kids since he knows all its pitfalls. He won’t be getting baby fever anytime soon.

Leona explicitly doesn’t like kids, so I think his placement here is pretty self-explanatory. He’s aware just how difficult it is to raise a child and he honestly has no interest in it for now. When he’s feeling a bit sappy, I think he might fantasize about having a family from time to time, but he knows he only would enjoy the ‘good’ parts and not any of the work, so he wouldn’t want to go through with it.

Least Likely

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #kalim al asim x reader #rook hunt x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #jack howl x reader #deuce spade x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twst silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #epel felmier x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #idia shroud x reader #ace trapolla x reader #jamil viper x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #twst #twisted wonderland

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

#steddie #stranger things #pre steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fillet #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #things get better for Steve i promise #hes just having his angsty time right now #robins part is next tho so stay tuned for that #disposable heroes

[metorea]

Receiving Oral w/ HP Boys

smut below the cut!!! all characters aged up

Harry

♡ More than anything, Harry is nervous. Nervous to mess up, nervous to do poorly- just nervous. 

♡ But this doesn't stop him from trying. Quite contrary, actually, he tries very hard. 

♡ He has never gone down on anyone before, but he has …. done his research. 

♡ He's gentle and cautious at first, but the sounds you're making spur him on like nothing else 

♡ “So good, so so good. You can give me another right?” 

♡ He finds himself quickly drunk with lust, addicted to the reactions he's pulling from you 

♡ You will have to pull him off, because he's not stopping until his jaw locks up. 

Ron 

♡ Weasley's man, I'm telling you. 

♡ This is probably one of the first sexual things you guys do together, period. Just going down on each other. No risk, high reward- what could be better?

♡ He's ever done it before you, but unlike Harry, he is not nervous in the slightest. In fact he is glaringly confident 

♡ For good reason, too. 

♡ Ron is, in a word, ravenous. 

♡ He may be oblivious most of the time, but in this arena, he is not. Quite contrary, he is incredibly in tune with you. Every move you make, every sound that leaves your pretty lips, he's listening and adjusting accordingly 

♡ “Fucking hell,” Is all you'd get from him, once or twice. His mouth is too full for him to say much else. Not that you're complaining. 

Cedric 

♡ Cedric is not a huge fan of oral. He prefers to get to the main event, where you're both feeling good. But seeing how interested you are in it, he's willing to try it. 

♡ And God, is he glad that he did. 

♡ He has you lay down on your back for him while he explores slowly, moving at an agonizing pace

♡ The first time you cum, he's shocked. He'd hardly done anything at all and here you were, a mess. 

♡ It opens up a whole new world of possibilities. 

♡ He watches and enjoys as feather light touches elicit the most extreme reactions from you, taking unbelievable pleasure in the way you're so desperate for him

♡ Yeah, oral becomes a staple of your foreplay from therein. 

George 

♡ He wants this. He wants it an incredible amount. 

♡ You never have to ask. He is ready to go, constantly. 

♡ Under the desk. In a closet. On his bed. On your bed. On Fred's bed. Everywhere. 

♡ George Weasley is absolutely nothing in this world if not a munch. 

♡ And God, is he good at it. Entirely too good at it. It's almost too much, the way he devours you without inhibition. 

♡ You have to push him off when you've finally cum too much for you to handle, and simply can't keep going. Even then he'll try to persuade you to just let him help you clean up, resulting in an eventual round 10. 

♡ “Come on baby, you're okay. Hush pretty girl/boy, one more.” 

Fred

♡ Fred isn't a munch per se. He is, however, a freak. 

♡ He's always looking to try something new, something experimental. 

♡ One day, an idea occurs to him. What if he combined his two favorite things? You on top, and him making you feel good. 

♡ This lands you here, on his face 

♡ Fred LOVES it. He loves the way that he's drowning in you while you rut against him, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he pulls you down against him. 

♡ He's looking up at you with greedy eyes while you use his mouth to get off, and he could not be more thrilled.

♡ “Y/N, I told you to sit, not hover. So fucking sit.” 

Draco 

♡ 69 sorry not sorry. 

♡ Draco is a very greedy man. He takes and gives nothing back, as has always been the case. 

♡ Luckily for you, this does not apply to sex … most of the time 

♡ He loves to have you sat on his face while you go down on him so he can feel you struggling to focus, choking on him while you shake against him. 

♡ He makes a game of it, trying to get you to finish before he does. More often than not, he wins 

♡ “Merlin, Y/N. Already? Tsk.” 

Blaise 

♡ He does it to think. I'm not kidding. 

♡ He's stressed out? You're crushing his head between your thighs. He's confused about something? You're sat on his face. 

♡ He uses you as a reassurance, taking pride in the way he can make you feel so, so good. 

♡ If he can control nothing in this world he can control how hard you're cumming on his tongue, amen.

♡ “Lay back.” He'd say, bursting into the room from what you can only assume was a long night, loosening his tie just enough for it to hang on his neck. “You know what I want prince(ss). Help me out, won't you?” 

Tom Riddle 

♡ Like most things with him, it is a ploy. A plot, to make you weak, make you pliable. 

♡ To Tom, there is no position more powerful for him than between your legs, staring up at you while you struggle to create any thoughts whatsoever. And that's exactly how he likes you; totally brainless. 

♡ Unlike the others, though, this is not about your pleasure. He is mean about it, always. More often than not, he goes down on you as a punishment, not a reward 

♡ He withholds orgasms for so long you're crying, shaking against him 

♡ And when he does let you cum, he refuses to let you stop- overstimulating you into a puddle

♡ He's a powerful wizard, he can go all night. And he does. 

♡ “What, it's too much?” Tom asks, raising an eyebrow with a sneer. “That's too bad. You aren't moving until I'm done with you.”

-

Requested by: @irissfoot

#cedric diggory #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter smut #ron weasley #smut imagines #tom riddle #x reader smut

[spoiledblog]

This is the development blog for the interactive fiction called "The Second Sight", which you can find on itch.io at the link above!

This is my first IF project, although I've been writing original stories and fanfiction for years.

I've included the story description and character profiles from the itch page below the cut.

This blog will be a combination of development info, images and music that I associate with the story, and other musings.

Fair warning, there might be spoilers from the latest chapters here, so I recommend catching up before reading too far.

Asks and submissions are always open.

You’re an urban legend in a county full of them.  When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.

Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.  You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons.  You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.

However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

✤✤✤

The Second Sight is an urban fantasy story, where you step into the role of a psychic whose strange powers have always separated them from others. Those same powers will drag you down the rabbit hole and into a world that is both the familiar and foreign to everything you know. A world filled with magic, witches, fae, demons, and the unknown.

You can immerse yourself in the story by customizing your protagonist's general appearance, choosing how they interact with others, and whether you lean on logic or intuition to problem solve. There are three love interests planned (more may be added depending on player reception and feedback), the genders of which will be selected by the player upon meeting them.

Characters

Jacob Carter

Age: Late forties

Race: Human. Definitely.

Gender: Male

Temperament: Carter radiates grizzled, old bastard energy and despite being the least paternal person in the world, he is your adoptive father. While harsh and aloof on the surface, he is also fiercely protective of you and has bent over backwards to give a decent life to a kid that isn't even his. He doesn't talk about his life before coming to Herman County and you haven't asked him, though that might change soon enough...

✤✤✤

Zander/Zora

Age: Late twenties.

Race: Human.

Appearance: Umber brown skin, black locs, grey eyes

Temperament: Gentle and resolute, Z isn't what you imagine when you think of an agent of the mysterious Magic and Anomalies Bureau. Kind, soft-spoken, and exceedingly polite, Z is Carter's former apprentice and something about them puts the old man on edge.

✤✤✤ Renard/Rowan

Age: Appears to be in their late twenties or early thirties

Race: Human. Maybe.

Appearance: Tall and slender, white-blonde hair, and gold eyes.

Temperament: Playful and flirtatious, talking to R always feels like a game of cat and mouse and you can never be sure which role is yours. Part sad clown, part trickster, and always maddening to work with, the only things you can be certain of with R is that they probably know what they're doing. Everything else is up in the air.

✤✤✤

Unknown aka "The Kestrel"

Age: ???

Race: Definitely not human.

Appearance: Tall, beautiful, elegant, with black hair and black eyes.

Temperament: The Kestrel is a complete unknown. It's impossible to say whether they are a lethal ally or deadly enemy, but either way they are a powerful dreamwalker. You don't know how long they've been watching you, but you're willing to bet that it's been longer than you're comfortable with.

#pinned post #blog intro #interactive fiction #the second sight

[oh-stars]

Topps

Love is secretly studying up on the nerd shit he’s into.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 2249 words | CW: N/A | Rating: T

--

It’s not often that they all make their way to Indianapolis. It’s no Chicago and getting everyone together to make a big trip of it is getting harder and harder every month. But Will’s birthday falls in line with the grand opening of a new collectibles store that promises shiny new dice and rare items among their comics and board game memorabilia. How could anyone deny his pleading eyes to make it a part of his birthday celebration: to go see the store and find a place to eat, a day trip that’s on the simpler side. 

Eddie’s just as excited as the boys are, but he’s more surprised to find Steve is practically vibrating out of his skin with how eager he is to get to the store. He’s just not showing it in the same way the others are. It’s all vibrant eyes and small smiles, bouncing knees and one too many questions. 

Eddie’s still trying to figure out what he’s excited about. 

Over the last year, Eddie’s learned how to read Steve Harrington. The man may think he keeps an even, cool composure about everything, but Eddie’s an expert in the minor details to figure out how Steve really feels. When he talks to Hopper about some sports thing, his hands will have a small tremor and he stumbles over his words sometimes, always playing it off as some headache or not getting enough sleep if you point it out. Eddie knows better, he knows Steve gets so excited that he can’t contain it and is embarrassed at how eager he is to share it, about his interests all together. 

The kids don’t help, he knows. Outside of Lucas, the others just tease him for being a meathead jock or some other bullshit insult – pulling the same shit they get bullied with, the same shit Eddie encouraged. He’s trying to get them to see how fucked up it is, but it’s a work in progress. 

They’re driving separately so Eddie doesn’t get to watch Steve’s excitement build other than the glimpses he gets in his rearview mirror of Steve, Robin, and the girls singing along to whatever mundane Top 40 shit they’re blasting. He’d listen to the shitty music with Steve over Dustin and Mike arguing over D&D editions any day, though. At least he can control the volume of the music… 

“I’m this close,” Eddie holds up his pinched fingers, “to leaving you on the side of the road,” he tells them. 

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Steve wouldn’t let you.” 

“I think I can convince him,” Eddie says with a smirk. Only Robin knows about their relationship, even now after it’s been a year, but that doesn’t mean the kids don’t know they’re close. They know they’re inseparable and good friends. Just not… naked in bed, touchy-feely ‘friends,’ ya know?  “We’re nearly at the store. Can you at least pause the screaming match until you have the editions in front of you for proper comparison?” 

That buys Eddie a few minutes of just his music as the boys have a more reasonable discussion to figure out how to split their small funds to maximize their haul. They may be turning sixteen this year, but they’re not exactly loaded. It’s the same shit he and the guys used to pull, and sometimes… still do. It’s nice seeing them like actual kids for a little while longer. 

But he’s still happy to climb out of his van and meet back up with Steve and the gang. 

He slings an arm over Steve’s shoulders, feels how keyed up he is and how his muscles are tense despite the relaxed looking posture. “Are you mortals ready to blow your minds?” Eddie asks, voice rumbly as he leans in to stare at the girls. 

Max rolls her eyes as Erica levels him with a stare of her own. 

“Let’s go already!” Dustin calls back as the guys are already booking it toward the store. 

Nancy and Jonathan have only just pulled up as the group passes. Robin, Jane, and Max wait for them, happy to hang back from this particular stop on their day. Or maybe they’re scheming about Will’s surprise that the rest of them have been left in the dark about. 

Either way, Eddie doesn’t drop his arm from Steve’s shoulders until they reach the door. 

The store’s packed with nerds of all ages, shuffling here and there as they browse the small space. It’s like nerd paradise, with walls of collectibles and big crates of comics and books, and big displays of art and promotions everywhere. It even has that musty book smell he loves so much! 

Eddie squeezes Steve’s shoulder before he completely drops his arm. “Permission to go feral?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but shoves Eddie lightly. “Go. Have fun,” he says. 

“You could always follow me, you know. Don’t want you getting lost,” Eddie says, getting back into Steve’s space even as his eyes flickered around the space. 

“I’ll come find you, okay?” Steve says, then he walks away with his hands in his pockets like he’s just strolling through the store. But Eddie can see the sharp way his eyes are searching the space, hunting for something. It’s enough to have Eddie trailing behind him, eager to figure out this mystery. 

Okay so Eddie gets briefly distracted by a wall of dragon figurines, but he manages to pull himself away when he sees the price tags are dangerously close to having commas. He stumbles his way around, only getting swept into conversation with Will once about the variety of figures they have and able to dodge Dustin’s badgering about the new Justice League comic. 

He finds Steve hunched over a glass case that’s near the cash register, at the far end where people aren’t huddled around looking at trading cards or the pricer collectibles. Eddie tucks himself partially behind a bookshelf so he can see Steve from the side. He watches as Steve’s eyes squint and he squats lower to look at the case from a new perspective. It takes a lot of effort to not let his own eyes wander to how his ass puts his Levi’s to the test, but Eddie’s stronger than that (sort of).

And because of that strength, Eddie gets the rare experience of seeing Steve’s eyes light up as his jaw drops. He looks… in awe of whatever he’s found, like someone just showed him the Holy Grail. 

Eddie can’t help himself as he walks over. Steve’s so entranced, he doesn’t even notice. For a split second, Eddie feels that familiar panic creep up his throat before he hears a soft “holy shit,” from Steve. 

On this side of the case are… sports cards. Trading cards of different sports people in various conditions, some are in little wrappers, some in packs, and others loose in the glass display case. Huh. Go figure. 

He’s kind of surprised, if Eddie’s honest with himself, he never would have taken Steve for a collector of any kind, much less trading cards. But here he is, so amazed at whatever he’s found that he still hasn’t noticed Eddie’s presence. 

Eddie squats down beside him, knees popping with the movement, and rests his forehead on the glass. “Which one is it?” 

Steve curses under his breath as he jumps, snapping out of it. “Jesus, Eds,” he says, standing up. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says with a grin. “Seriously, though. Which is it?” 

His face is red and he looks almost ashamed to be caught staring at the cards. “Find anything cool yet?” Steve asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Eddie frowns. “Steve…” 

Steve just shakes his head and turns his back on the glass. “Looks like Lucas found something,” he says with a forced laugh as he points to where Lucas is struggling to carry a few different boxes of figurines as he searches for the others in the busy store. 

“And so did you,” Eddie says softly as he stands beside him, shoulders touching. “Trading cards, huh?” 

He just shrugs. 

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Eddie says. “I don’t know anything about them but,” he glances back at the rows and rows of cards, some with tiny words and charts, “those stats have to mean something. And you know how I am about stats, Stevie.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “They’re player stats, Eddie. It’s from their games and shit.” He sighs. “You don’t… don’t have to pretend it’s cool, man. Just sports shit, right?” 

“Hey,” Eddie says, a little more forceful, “I don’t mind sports shit, remember? We had fun watching that basketball game the other day.” 

“You were just being nice,” Steve says. 

“No,” Eddie counters, “I was a little confused on the language and how it works, but I love seeing you get passionate about something you love, Steve. Even if it means seeing how angry you get at whatever the refs are saying.” 

Steve’s face darkens as he grumbles out, “It was a shit call.” He hasn’t been able to let it go since they watched it. 

“C’mon,” Eddie says, turning back to the case, “will you just show me which one you like?” 

“It’s not necessarily about liking them,” Steve starts, turning as well, “but the players themselves.” 

Eddie hums. “So which player did you find?” 

“Nolan Ryan,” Steve breathes out, pointing at the card, “he’s a pitcher for the Astros and that,” he lets out a whistle, “is a rare 1985 Tiffany.” 

“What makes it rare?” Eddie asks. 

Steve waves him off. “Don’t worry about that–”

“No,” Eddie insists. “I told you, in detail, about my Lord of the Rings theories and you listened to every word. Let me hear about your Tiffany card.” 

“It’s not mine,” Steve reminds him. 

Eddie nudges his shoulder. “Steve.” 

Steve lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, so the cards are printed here, right? Like it’s one of their things? But the Tiffany cards aren’t, they’re printed in Ireland. And you see how that one is a little brighter than the one next to it?” He doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response. “They printed the Tiffany sets on white cardboard instead of gray. And they only made a limited run of the sets, right? So to just… find one,” he says, voice soft and light, “and Nolan Ryan’s card at that?” He whistles. “Kind of a big deal.” 

“So you’re getting it, right?” 

Steve shrugs again. “Maybe I’ll drive up later for it. I don’t want to deal with the kids–” 

“We’ll put it in my bag. I haven’t even really started to look, but you know I’m emptying my wallet in here, right?” Eddie says, smiling. 

“Why haven’t you looked?” Steve asks, brow furrowing. “We’ve been here for twenty minutes, Eds, what have you been doing?” 

Eddie feels his face soften as he tilts his head and plays with a strand of his hair. “There’s this guy I’ve got a thing for,” he whispers, “and he was really excited to come to some nerd store, but wouldn’t tell me why. So I had to figure it out myself.” 

Steve’s blushing again as he looks away. “C’mon,” he says, grabbing Eddie by the elbow, “show me what you want to look at.” 

He allows Steve to change the subject and does look for himself, but he doesn’t forget the wistful look in Steve’s eyes when they end up by the case again for check-out. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, mostly to Nancy and Robin who have joined them in line, “should we send some of us down to the restaurant?” 

Nancy looks at her watch, then at the line. “Yes, that’s not a bad idea.” 

Steve nods and hands Eddie some cash. “Just in case the kids need help. Nance, Rob and I’ll go check in at the restaurant. See you there?” 

Eddie lets the three of them walk out the door before he steps out of the line. Sure, he’ll lose his place, but it’s worth it. 

“Excuse me,” Eddie says to an employee behind the counter, “I need to get this card.”

The guy knows his shit, so while the line dwindles, Eddie takes the opportunity to ask some questions. He even gets a few more card packs from the newest run, card holders and sleeves to put them in, and a booklet that explains the set. There’s even a book on the history of the game that the cashier suggests; Eddie doesn’t hesitate to buy it all. Sure, he had to put away a few figures and the new dice set he found, but it’s worth it. 

He hides all of his new goods in with his other nerdy shit and carefully puts his bag in the glove box so it doesn’t get mixed up with the kids’ bags. “You guys ready?” Eddie asks, arms draped over Mike and Will’s shoulders. 

As they walk to the restaurant for the next stop in their plans, Eddie listens to the kids share about their hauls and what they want to come back for. It all goes in one ear and out the other, too busy mulling over the information he learned from the cashier. He’s kind of surprised by how excited he is to read the materials he bought, but he really can’t wait to give Steve the card. 

Now if he can just get Steve to admit he’s a nerd, too, it’d be icing on the cake.  

--

Thanks to @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #whatislovedailyprompts #ohstars posting challenge

[beenoeila]

A list of underrated fics I adore.

▪️this don’t feel anything like sinking by

@dontcallmebree

A little over six weeks and his knee heals only for his breathing to act up. It may have been a handful of decades—coming up on a century, even—but he never did forget how it felt to wheeze through the night.

Steve sees it coming when Dr. Youssef tells him his lungs are taking a turn.

The year 2032 brings about the Summer Olympics, the coldest winter of the decade, and an end to Project Rebirth.

🔹 Learning to want by @luna-rainbow

Bucky is still trying to piece together his memories, but at least he now had Steve with him.

When Steve asks him if he wanted to meet with his sister, Becca, his response was, "I don't know about wants...I'll start with the shoulds."

Steve and Bucky goes for lunch with Becca. Steve and Bucky dealing with memory loss. Steve and Bucky being mutually pining idiots.

▪️better to speak or die by emilywithoutY (@between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place)

Summers in C. are as endless and hazy as when they were kids. All James wants is to play his part well enough that his mother stops looking at him with that twist of regret in her smile.

The only thing to break the sun-soaked monotony is the arrival of the new summer intern. While the rest of the household—and half the village—fawn over Steve Roger’s movie star looks and understated charm, James finds him aloof and his polite interest near unbearable.

But as they collide in vulnerable moments, the sparks of frustration ignite something neither has the power to stop.

Do you think Jonathan understood what happened that day David first stepped into his father’s court?

🔹The weapon remembers by pushdragon

The Winter Soldier finds old fantasies of Steve in his memory, and takes them for reality.

He's got two days to sort out all his mixed-up history, before he puts himself back in cryo freeze. Harder still, he's got to convince Steve to let him do it.

▪️Preberseeschießen by Ginny_Potter (@hipsterdiva)

Bucky takes his time, ignoring his comrades’ cheering and Gaiswinkler and Mariandl’s teasing. From his position, Steve only has an oblique view of Bucky’s face, which is mostly in the dark anyway – the strong line of his jaw, a smudge of grease on his cheekbone, a sweaty lock of hair curling on his forehead, his mouth pouting in concentration. Steve itches to draw him, to take out his battered sketchbook and reproduce that instant of perfect imperfection. Steve itches to touch him, push back his unruly curls, wipe away the smudge on his cheekbone, cup his face in his hands and…

Bucky breathes out and shoots. The bullet hits water… and there it is, the zapping sound of paper tearing.

The light turns on and off three times. Third circle. Just a lick out of bullseye.

The Howlies explode in cheers.

Or, the Howling Commandos play a shooting game with the Austrian Resistance and Steve has lots of unresolved feelings about himself, his new body, and his changing relationship with Bucky. In other words, comrades are comrades, angst looms, and Steve feels.

🔹Till there were no more wolves in the West

by @dharmasharks

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, Steve,” Bucky says softly.

“But this thing sticking in my heart—the part of me that’s yours? It is the best part of me. Maybe the only good part.” His rueful smile wavers. He makes a pained expression.

“What if it’s the only good part?” he asks.

Two Brooklyn boys find themselves aboard an orphan train headed west in 1854. Across farmland, war, and the lawless frontier, a childhood promise helps them find each other again.

(A Western SteveBucky retelling.)

▪️Hiraeth by ixalit

Hiraeth

noun /ˈhɪraɨ̯θ/

[Welsh] A homesickness or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that never was.

🔹Undone by justanotherStonyfan

You’d think, given everything, that if one of them were going to regress, that if one of them were going to break down, it would be Bucky.

(Set mostly after Endgame - canon deaths remain but Steve doesn't leave)

▪️But You Can Hold Me (Only 'Cause It's a Cold Night in Brooklyn) by Voylitscope_speed (@voylitscope)

This should just be two friends getting off after the burlesque show. This should just be two pals both thinking about the girl. That would probably be okay, Bucky thinks.

But then he ruins it all when he says,

"Come here," and puts a hand out to tug on Steve's shoulder.

(Or: Sometimes, Bucky and Steve lend each other a hand, literally. Bucky tries not to be weird about it, but he's always been bad at controlling his thoughts about Steve.)

🔹Midlife Crisis by profoundalpacakitten

Steve isn’t expecting much of anything from life, he’s content to coast by, letting life flow past. Get up, get dressed, get to work, get home, get to sleep, rinse and repeat.

▪️ The Magic Touch by @broodybuck

The soldier is finally free but he has one big problem, he can't finish. Until he meets a man called Steve who apparently has the magic touch.

#stucky #stevebucky #fic recs #stucky fic

[last-flight-of-fancy]

hi hello i hope you don't mind but Special Interest Infodump Mode has been activated please keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times-

this explanation comes to us courtesy of Dark Road! You know, that cutesy little mobile game where literally the whole cast except the two protagonists dies. This is on brand bc the explanation has it's own fridge horror levels to it if i think too hard about it tbh.

So, worlds have hearts. We've known this since KH1, seen what happens to a world that loses its heart, and how they can be affected. It's rarely been expounded on beyond that however, aside vague allusions to the titular Kingdom Hearts being/harboring the Heart of All Worlds.

(which has. other implications now that i think about it but that's stepping into theorising territory. im sorry im trying really hard to stay on track honest)

fast forward to Dark Road, where we have a bunch of kids venturing out into the worlds for the first time, and as such have to have things explained to them (and thus the audience). NOW i will note here that KH looooooves unreliable narrators and characters imparting incorrect information without knowing it, so there is always the possibility that this could later turn out to be wrong, but currently I see no reason this would be the case and thus for now i feel safe in taking their words at face value unless otherwise contradicted.

Why are there no people? Because each world is alive, and after the Keyblade War sundering THE World into MANY Worlds, each needed to recover and restore what was lost; life, time, movement.

This bit here is important, bc as a result

All of this is the direct result of the Keyblade War of old. Even after so much time, the bits of worlds are *still* recovering, and I do think there's something to be said about how like... the repition between worlds and their apparent stagnation often *stops* after Sora visits them. I don't think it's because Sora's special(tm), but rather just because of who he is; the Dark Road kids are told never to interfere, and as a result the worlds they visit that Sora also visits later are exactly the same to Sora as they were 80+ years before.

But when Sora visits the same world only a short time after his first visit, things CHANGE. Hercules' story moves forward, Simba is having a crisis about being king, Jack Skellington has learned his lesson about Christmas and is on to new shenanigans. And that's only in kh2! in kh3 we see Twilight Town fill with people, barren Olympus expands into a full town (and there's more there too with BBS and how the Wayfinder Trio may have been Olympus' start towards restoring itself completely, and Sora's later arrival more speeding things along)

my point here is *connections*, which is a consistant and overarching theme of the series. Empty worlds are baby worlds, still healing and restoring from being broken away from the rest, and what helps along that healing? Being connected to others.

Which is to say that the keyblade weilder's doctrine of 'do not interfere' while most certainly well-intentioned (as Dark Road also points out, one persons darkness is anothers light, and morality is not a solid truth across worlds, so interfering is risky at best and dangerous at worst), the flip side to this is that without being connected, without that ''interferance'', the world's restoration stagnates and struggles. It will still get there eventually (the Tangled world seems to be doing alright for example), but chances are it might've been a little easier/faster if someone had done a little interfering.

tldr keyblade war broke the worlds and reset them all to zero. As the worlds heal time stops until it's People finally pop back into existance and their stories can resume. And that's how the invisible crowds in early kh games are canon.

#I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE INFODUMP MODE IS NOT ALWAYS GOOD AT BEING CLEAR #and also i kept slipping into speculation mode #im sorry i cant help it kh does this to me #its just so juicy #stop talking to yourself flight #kingdom hearts #meta

[tyrantisterror]

A couple months ago, one of the kids at the daycare brought in a D&D starter set and asked me to DM a game for him and some of the other kids in my class. Now, I had considered doing this in the past, but written it off for a variety of reasons, mainly asusming it'd be a couple days of chaos before the kids get sick of all the math involved and lose interest. But if a kid broaches an idea and others seem on board, I feel it's kind of my duty to at least try it.

So far my assumptions have been... mostly correct? Like, 70% of my predictions have come true, it is chaos, ten-years olds are the most murder-happy murder hobo PCs you could possibly imagine, and they've really been pushing my improv skills to their absolute limits with the choices they've made (and the constrictions I have on me as a daycare teacher). But they haven't gotten bored with the math, and they absolutely love playing the game still, which is nice. I like it when my students are passionate about something.

Anyway, I bring this up because seeing how children play with D&D canon has made me realize one critical fact:

D&D needs a Mons Game spinoff.

Kids love monsters. This is not my bias, it is something that has been categorically proven to me in my four years of working at a daycare. Every kid loves the idea of weird, impossible creatures, and they love the idea of befriending a whole horde of those creatures even more so. One of my kids in the daycare D&D campaign is making it his goal to find and tame every monster he can find in the kid-friendly monster manuals I bought for the class. He wants a Tarasque and a Bullete and an Owlbear and on and on and on, and keeps proposing tactics for capturing them based on his time playing Ark: Survival Evolved, a game where you can tame dinosaurs and mythic beasts while trying to survive a wild world full of danger and obstacles.

And it turns out that, while the mechanics of D&D don't support this, the philosophy of how its settings are structured according to those mechanics does. D&D is filled with hundreds of wild and imaginative monsters, all with distinct appearances, habits, adaptations, and environmental needs. The need to make the "dungeons" part of D&D interesting has required it to build really interesting monster ecosystems, and, much like mons games, the need to keep players buying new content has resulted in them building a vast library of creatures, because selling $50 books containing a slew of new monsters is a pretty guaranteed way to get money. D&D may not be a mons game, but it's accidentally made its setting perfectly suited to be one.

And what a money-maker that would be! Skew it more towards a child audience in tone, use simpler mechanics so kids can hop into it without spending, say, three solid weeks of afterschool daycare time crafting character sheets more or less one on one, and you'd have a game that would easily hook a younger audience while planting seeds of interest into the bigger game.

Of course, there are already indie TTRPG mons games, and I imagine some of them are actually good, but unfortunately they're not exactly easily obtainable on a daycare teacher's budget. And, you know, they wouldn't let you make a team of a bulette, an otyugh, a gray render, and an owlbear.

But then again, Wizards of the Coast continues to be absolute bastards, so maybe this idea is too good for them. Which makes it a good thing they're never going to read this blog post.

[moumouton4]

Clothes Stay On || Tomura Shigaraki x reader

A/n : Prompt 14 of the Smutember 2023

A/n 2 : Here you can find Shikamaru's version from the 29 / 10 / 2023

The list of promps is HERE

Smutember 2023 Masterlist ⚜

Warnings : no mention of gender for reader, dry humping, grinding, slight possessiveness, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 769

He always was a pain in the ass when you talked about touching him, as a skin to skin contact. His quirk made it insanely difficult to enjoy such a closeness with the most important person of his life. Your love for him made you want to face any difficulties to be closer than ever to him. But on the contrary, his love for you made him totally terrified at the atrocious idea of reducing you to ashes. Though it was undeniable, you needed him and he needed you. Quite a lot actually. You two were just so horny and fucking everyone could see through your games.

All that pent up desire made an idea grow in your horny mind. Slowly you made your way to your boyfriend who was deep in thoughts, sitting at his desk. You slided on his lap as if nothing while he just looked at you with an inquiring look.

“Shhh let me just-” you started but he cut you off.

“What do you think you’re doing ?” he asked as he felt you slowly rocking your hips against his.

“Making up for lost times” your hands gripped his shoulders for support as you slowly picked up your pace.

“I’ve already told you we couldn’t. No yet-” his gloved hands found purchase at your hips

“Don’t worry I’ve got an idea”

“Like what ?” he continued, it would have been a lie to say he wasn't interested in what you were going to do.

“We are going to do it. But clothes stay on, so that your quirk can’t be a problem anymore” you cheer with a smile. You hope that this time he isn’t going to tell you it’s still too risky, like that one time you told him he could still fuck you with his 3 fingered gloves on.

For a brief moment he looked like he was entranced by the idea, after all he was growing pretty hard under you, but then “This is completely stupid, besides I was working”

Something in the back of your head told you he was going to react like this, and it was fine for him to be worried but you had enough fooling around and you knew him too “I’m sure Dabi wouldn’t have minded” you stated, knowing you were pushing his buttons.

And you had the expected reaction.

In a split second, his fingers tightened their grip around you, forcing you back against his hard clothed member "Are you fucking kidding me ?!?" he almost growled "You're mine. Don't ever forget that"

His arms took up the previous movement of your hips as he brought you back and pushed you along his erection. Gosh, he could feel the heat coming off it with every stroke. He loved the way you moaned against his chest as he nibbled on the shell of your ear "I'll find a way" he breathed heavily "Trust me I will. And I'll make you mine in every way possible"

He may have been inexperienced, but just the fairness of rubbing yourself on him like that made the knot in your stomach tighten. Besides you were so needy, the task was going to be easier. But just as you thought it was going to end like that, he carried you in his arms, your legs still around him, as your centers remained in contact despite the barrier of clothes. He lowered you onto the bed behind him and laid you on it, before pinning you against the mattress.

His hips worked as if they'd always known this rhythm. His speed accelerated, he knew he'd end up cumming in his briefs, but gosh, he didn't care at the time. His body convulsed as he reached the point of no return. He felt his balls tighten before releasing and cumming in his pants, with a guttural moan.

His face found its way in the crook of your neck as he tried to catch his breath. Fingers mindlessly traced patterns on his back as his body relaxed against yours. Now he was going to rest, then change and quickly go see Kurogiri to come up with a plan that would allow him to do this again but in a way that wasn't threatening to you. Fuck, if it was that good, he can't even imagine what it would be like to be deep inside you, feeling you tighten around him as you juices coat his cock.

Just the thought of it is making him hard again. And... he's rutting against you again. Well maybe talking to Kurogiri can wait a little bit more.

#my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia smut #mha #mha smut #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagine #boku no hero academia smut #bnha #bnha smut #tomura shigaraki #tomura shigaraki imagine #tomura shigarki x reader #tomura shigaraki smut #tomura x reader #tenko shimura #tenko shimura x reader #tenko shimura smut #smutember 2023 #smut #miri-writes

[finn-writes-stuff]

May I ask for headcanons for Grog, Scanlan, Percy and Vax with gn shy s/o pretty please?

Shrinking Violet

Quiet and shy, you've caught the eyes of the men of Vox Machina.

Grog, Scanlan, Percy & Vax x Reader

Fandom: The Legends of Vox Machina/Critical Role

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: N/A

Gender-Neutral Reader

Masterlist

Whoever sends me a proper Percy request next is going to have my hand in marriage. -Finn

Grog

Grog has never been shy in his life. It often just doesn't occur to him to be nervous about talking to people. He has things he wants to say and do, so why would he not?

It creates an interesting contrast with you. His booming exuberance compared to your quiet restraint. There's a joke in the party that between the two of you, it averages out to the perfect usual amount of speech.

Grog wants you to feel comfortable around him! He understands on some level that people are often quiet around him because they're scared or intimidated, and he really doesn't want you to be.

You're definitely able to notice that Grog is gentler with you, trying to pull you out of your shell without scaring you off.

The extra obvious tell is Pike trying to very nonchalantly tell you about how Grog is totally chill and you can just talk with him! She isn't the most subtle of wingmen.

Scanlan

He has little restraint and even less shame. He will say anything that pops into his head, no matter how awful it is. Speaking to him will inevitably leave your ears burning.

Scanlan thinks it's kind of cute that you're so shy and makes a game out of getting you to laugh at his jokes and talk without seeming so nervous.

Seeing you when you're happy enough to forget how nerve-wracking social interaction is, melts him. The first time that he made you properly laugh, like a full, loud, straight from the chest laugh, he was left a little dazed.

The innuendos actually get worse. You don't brush them off with snark the same way most of the party does, and he absolutely capitalizes on it to double down on flirting with you.

Percy

Percy has a hack for social interaction and it boils down to being rich. He leans into the 'I am important and smart and well-spoken' part of his personality and it gets him what he wants. So even when social interaction is overwhelming, he can just default to that.

So, naturally, he teaches you the finer points of it to help you talk when you need to. He lets you practice with him and only laughs when you start making fun of him.

He is a big fan of leaving crowded situations to go work in his own space, and he will offer you the chance to come with him whenever he does. You just have to hold tools for him while he works.

If you're in a situation where you're stuck talking with strangers, he develops a habit of sweeping in with a convenient reason for you to leave the conversation. It satisfies something deep in his chest when he gets to play your knight in shining armor.

Vax

Vax'ildan, king of charming his way behind closed doors. He is pretty solidly at ease in conversations, and when he isn't, he can certainly fake it.

He'll tease you about how shy you are, he finds it adorable and he likes pushing to see how far it goes.

That doesn't mean that he allows other people to tease you or push is though. He will make them fuck off the moment you look uncomfortable.

As a kid, he was shy and nervous, but it has been a long time since he had to watch everything he said. He doesn't want you to feel that talking is going to get you in trouble. As much as he can be an ass, he genuinely wants you to be comfortable with him and the rest of the party.

#finnwrites #legend of vox machina x reader #legend of vox machina #the legend of vox machina #the legend of vox machina x reader #tlovm x reader #tlovm #critical role x reader #grog strongjaw x reader #grog x reader #grog strongjaw #vaxildan #vaxildan x reader #vax'ildan x reader #vax x reader #vax'ildan vessar #scanlan x reader #scanlan shorthalt x reader #scanlan shorthalt #percy de rolo x reader #percival de rolo x reader #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #percy de rolo #percival de rolo #headcanons

[alessiathepirate]

Until Dawn

A SMALL JOY: Josh Washington x fem!reader

Summary: Taking Dr Hill's advice, Josh and his lover go up to the lodge and look through all the things his sisters had left behind - after an interesting find she does her best to take his mind off the sadness he's experiencing.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

To be honest, Until Dawn is still one of my favourite horror games. Thanks to the game I found my favourite YouTube channel, my English improved a lot because I wanted to understand every word, and I have a huge crush on Rami Malek to this very day. Me and my friends were obsessed with him the time the game came out, and soon started to watch more of his work together.

Josh Washington was one of my first fictional crushes, I could defend him for years without getting tired and I drew him so many times I actually learned how to draw portraits correctly.

There's a gameplay I like to rewatch every year, because of the great memories I have connected to it. I always fall in love with Josh Washington once again - and thanks to that tradition, I started to write for him as well.

Warnings: a bit of swearing, mentioned depression and loss, mentioning the Washington sisters' disappearance and/or death

•••

° "(...) We would come up in the summer and we would have the best time. The whole family was there - mom, dad, my sisters. It was some serious competition out there on the big lawn... I don't know. Can't go back. New reality." °

She listens carefully, noticing every little pitch or drop in Josh's voice as he speaks - and as he puts down the baseball bat all she can think about is grabbing him and pulling him into a hug, a tight one, the kind that is both loving and comforting. She watches him, she examines his every little move and her heart aches every single time she finds a new sign of sadness.

She hates it.

She hates that look on his face. She hates that change in his voice. She hates that he feels alone. She hates that the whole case is making him go crazy. She hates that nothing is certain and he can't even grieve.

She hates that he had to change so much; that he had to become this depressed because of some stupid, messed up prank their friends had decided to pull on his sister.

He didn't deserve any of it. He doesn't deserve any of it. None of the Washington kids do.

Coming up here was already hard - back to the mountain where Hannah and Beth disappeared, where they played around like stupid teenagers do. Dr Hill said it's for the best - Josh needs some closure, some proof that he needs to slowly start to move on. She thinks it's bullshit - Josh thinks so too. It won't be easy to put yourself through something like this.

But regardless, they came. They are here now, looking through the rooms, the basement...

The memories are hurting her - and if she as a friend is hurting this badly than Josh must suffer a lot.

"Teach me." the words suddenly burst out before she can stop them, wanting to make Josh concentrate on something else - not wanting him to get lost in his own mind.

"What?" the question is loud in the basement.

"Teach me how to play." she continues on, feeling unsure like she tries to cross a very thin and sensitive line. "I've never played baseball before."

"It's been a while since I did so." Josh starts to explain, his gaze falling on the bat he put down. "You really- want to?"

She steps closer to him slowly, carefully, as if she tries to get close to a very scared and wounded animal. She touches his arm, her fingers hold him as her thumb brushes along his skin in an up and down motion. She leans towards him, her face touching his shoulder as she presses a kiss to the area what isn't covered by his t-shirt.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." she whispers. "I know it's not-" she holds that thought and says something else instead: "I just haven't seen you play yet and I want to join in."

Josh looks at her over his shoulder, he looks at her as she tries to smile even if her eyes stay sad. He watches her like she's the only thing he has left, like she's the only person who matters anymore. He looks at her and feels something break inside, realizing that she really is the only one who he has.

"All right." he says and when he sees her eyes change a tiny bit - showing a bit of happiness - he feels his heart flutter. It makes him feel better, it makes him want to touch her too, putting his hand over hers - over the one which is still clinging onto his arm. "As long as you promise me you won't accidentally hit yourself with the bat."

And there's what he wanted to see - her expression changes, playful offence takes the sadness' place and she gently hits his back.

"Hey! I wouldn't do that."

"You totally wouldn't." his sarcasm earns him another punch and despite the situation and the place, he feels like he got something back.

The last time they bickered like this was half a year ago, the night his sisters had disappeared. They drank and played around until they started to make out in the kitchen, only stopping when Chris stepped inside the room wanting some booze for himself.

As they climb the stairs hand in hand they both feel somewhat relieved. They found a kind of small joy, a bit of happiness - something what they had left here months ago. Josh chuckles when she trips and almost falls, she feels excited as he hands her the baseball bat outside.

"Since there're only the two of us here, I think it's best I teach you how to hit the ball and not yourself."

"I'm not that clumsy Mister!" she tries to sound offended, but it doesn't work.

"I know you too well, girl; and I don't trust you with that at all."

Josh stands behind her, keeping a gentle hold on both of her arms as he explains how to stand and how to hold the bat. She chuckles when he playfully tickles her and this time she doesn't feel guilty about laughing. Before he lets go of her to throw the ball, he gives her a short hug and presses a kiss into the crook of her neck.

She misses the first time...

and the second time; and the third time...

She misses and Josh laughs and she thinks it's the most beautiful sight she's ever seen.

They change positions after a while and no matter how she throws, Josh never misses - not even once. He hits the ball every single time and it flies and lands far away.

She has the feeling that in that very moment, doing that very thing they both feel somewhat complete. She feels like Josh's smiles are honest, his laughs are honest and she forgets about Dr Hill and his stupid advice.

"No shit you like to play it." she says after a while as the both of them are lying in the grass, her head resting on Josh's arm. "It is fun."

"Believe me darling, it is much more fun when you actually hit the ball." his voice has a teasing edge to it and for a moment she thinks about turning towards him and hitting him playfully once again - but she doesn't.

Instead - hoping to get something more, trying to get a kind of good change out of him, she says: "I will, after a bit more training. You'll teach me, I have no doubt about that."

Josh turns towards her, gently touching her face and playing with her hair. She tries to read his face and she realizes that he understands what she's playing at. She wonders if he'll get upset or sad... but she gets an answer pretty quickly.

"I will - of course I will. You'll be the best player in this damn country."

The muscles in her face twitch and she feels like she'll cry. It's been so long, so long since Josh smiled and laughed that now seeing it again feels like a whole new experience. She doesn't want to leave the place or the moment. It's too nice.

"Better than you?"

"Way better." he promises and lets go of the lock of hair he's been playing with. "I love you, you know that, right?"

She feels frozen at the question and starts to wonder where it's coming from. The doubt in his voice, the softness in his eyes... He deserves the world, he deserves everything in it and he deserves to know that he does enough for her - she feels his love and every single emotion and action it causes.

"Of course I do... I know." she promises. "I love you too. And I'm here for you, no matter what."

It's her turn to lean in and she kisses him, making sure the kiss is soft and calm. She wants to make him feel whole and safe. She wants him to be happy.

They lay back down and stay quiet for a bit, enjoying the sunlight and the light summer breeze. She feels like she could melt. Melt into the feeling and moment forever, without ever getting bored.

"You know," Josh starts suddenly, his voice soft and unsure. "it's been a while since I've taken you out on a date."

"It's fine, Josh. These past months weren't exactly the best."

"No... I know." for a few moments he stays silent, not knowing what to say. "All I want to say is I have a few movies here we can watch and we can have a nice time before we-"

"-go back to them." she finishes, understanding what he means.

Them. All the friends, all the family members and pals who show an annoying amount of pity. All of those people who try to comfort Josh when doesn't want to do anything with them. The people who make him feel worse than better.

"I'd love that." she smiles at him as he turns towards him and hugs him. "But no horror."

"No horror." Josh nods.

It wouldn't be good for either of them.

She kisses his shoulder as they get going, stretching their muscles, before climbing the stairs to go and find the movies Josh was talking about.

As they look over his DVDs while hugging, all she can think about is how unfair life is, because Josh doesn't deserve any of the problems life threw at him...

#until dawn #until dawn x reader #josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington x fem!reader #hannah washington #beth washington

[eldritch-spouse]

HI AGAIN. Ever since I found your blog and also sent a totally normal ramble abt cannibalism I've been just. Gently tossing your guys back and forth in my head. You're a wonderful writer and I'm always excited to see you on my dash!!

Gonna throw my hat in as asking an actual question- How would your guys fare if their obsession had a particularly weird or morbid interest? I get the vibes that some of them would most certainly encourage it but I also feel like Vinnel would hit me with a hammer if I panic infodumped about ebola-

[Hellow, glad to see you again! Also, I know you probably just forgot, but "your guys" encompasses way too many characters to talk about at once, so I'll assume you were going for TCE staff.]

Morell especially likes hearing about your cannibalism infodumps. They're actually useful to him, since he's going to be living with you, and he needs to know what he can and can't feed you, as well as a possible child between you. It's actually interesting stuff, he'd like it if you talked about it to his family too, you're a smart piggy. Any other topics are usually met with less enthusiasm (unless kitchen/food related), and he'll ask you to quit it if you start talking too much about mushrooms. Overall, it's nice background noise to work to.

Patches is all about infodumping. In fact, you're subjected to it often too, even if he doesn't always stop to explain basic concepts you'd need to understand his rambling. He'll give you a recorder he has, so he can keep the sound of that boundless enthusiasm in your voice forever. He's much more participative than the others, asking various questions and tossing random scenarios at you that'll prompt you to learn even more. There's a potential he'll get distracted and stop working to just research this with you the whole day.

Gallon loves a weirdo -No offense- Feel free to dump all that morbidity on him, he soaks it up like a sponge (so does Martin, be careful). Although he prefers to let you speak unhindered, only egging you on when it seems you're getting passionately angry about things, there's a chance Gallon may begin his own little tidbit sharing regarding a variety of poisons and toxins. He's selective with what he lets slip, but figures it could interest you.

Santi likes listening to you. Doesn't matter what it's about. There's only one thing he doesn't want you to morbidly talk to him about, anything featuring kids. Other than that, you think a rant about the intricacies of cannibalism's effects will kill his mood? Hah, nice try. He usually doesn't have anything smart to say, but may actually pitch in with some first hand details if you mention something sexual and morbid.

Let's face it, this is going in one of Grimbly's eardrums and out the other. Unless, you can talk like you're in a true crime podcast, then he's all ears. Grimbly typically responds to these interests by bragging to others about how his Mommy's "so smart" and "cultured" and he learns so much with you! You should start a YouTube channel!

Nebul likes to hear what you think is morbid. He'll let you ramble when you've been good enough to earn his attention, or if it allows you to keep obeying him. He has his own morbidities to share with you, as a wraith who has seen the darkest parts of many a mind. Surely, you of all people would be fascinated to know how the brain reacts to very invasive types of trauma only some monsters can inflict...

Vinnel will use this to his advantage during shows. You're placed in dangerous games where the whole goal is for you to explain said morbid concepts to the audience while Vinnel or Jingles try to destabilize you so you'll fall into painful contraptions or get cut/bruised/undressed. Sometimes Vinnel pays attention to your infodumps, other times he openly doesn't, it's a coin toss.

Belo sincerely discourages you from seeking such dark information in your brain. A lesser's mind is like a canvas, and it shouldn't be furnished with such desolate knowledge... If your morbid interests somehow can shine a glimmer of positivity or utility, the angel will be a little more inclined to letting you keep pursuing these topics. Otherwise, Belo actively attempts to distract you.

Sybastian doesn't understand about 80% of what you're about to tell him, but he has all the time in the world to sit and listen to his favorite person spit words. He's not verbally communicative during these episodes, but he may clap depending on how impressive the information is, and he remembers things you say enough to sometimes present you with paraphernalia vaguely related to the topics of your morbid interests.

Fank-e is a good bet because he can add onto your information in real time, or correct small detail you may get them wrong. He's generally happy to give you links to more information sources and try to match your level of knowledge, uncaring of how dark the subject theme may be.

If there's one thing you can infodump to Krulu about, it would be diseases. Plagues and ailments of several types are his specialty, the chances of him imparting bits of knowledge you absolutely should not possess on this matter are high. Another thing you may infodump to him about is corvids. It gets him in very favorable moods, surprisingly.

#Morell oc #Gallon oc #Belo oc #Patches oc #Nebul oc #Sybastian oc #Vinnel oc #Santi oc #Grimbly oc #Fank-e oc #Krulu oc #hi-im-lugh

[moodymisty]

May I request a scenario where the reader tells a space marine (of your choice) about how it feels to be an average mortal? I think that a space marine would at least somewhat enjoy hearing about the lives of the people he’s supposed to be protecting. And I also want to see a space marine’s reaction to stuff they haven’t really experienced before, like grocery stores, water parks, fashion trends, families that aren’t toxic, e.t.c

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: This is really cute. I chose Space Wolves for it since they’re a bit more of a willing chapter for that sort of thing. And I’m in a wolfy mood for…. Zero particular reason.

Relationships: None, just goofing around with big wolf boys

Warnings: Fem!reader, Space Wolves drinking but nothing else

The hall is alight with booming voices as usual, and your inkwell shakes as the long table rocks. Your quickly grab it, the astartes next to you having slammed his fist into the table while arguing with the one across from him.

“What? I got it, it’s mine. Get up and get your own.”

They’re been arguing about this for a minute or two now, getting closer to longer than it would’ve taken to just get another mug themselves.

The one he's arguing attempts to reach and quickly snatch it, but the marine next to you whacks it away and in your direction. Your much smaller hands manage to grab the handle, saving all but a single drop.

“Ahh, good catch girl.” He slaps a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it, and you resist the urge to yelp in pain. “Almost wasted the entire reason for this stupid argument.”

He glares at the other Space Wolf, who drunkenly rolls his eyes.

“You could Rock Paper Scissors for it,”

You say, hoping to dissolve the tension before your shaken stack of parchment becomes victim to the next mug of tipped mjød. Perhaps bringing your work here wasn't the smartest idea.

Both men look at you confused, like you'd suddenly spoken another language.

“Can do what for it?” The one closer to you says. The one across the table just looks at you like you're stupid, but curious as he leans on his forearms.

Right; They probably have no idea about a simple children’s game, given their upbringing.

You turn a bit on the bench, and the marine beside you takes it as you going to show him. He throws a leg over to the outside, straddling the bench with hands on his thighs. It's a bit intimidating, having him suddenly stare at you so intently.

“It’s a kids game on Terra. You can use it to like, win things. Settle disputes.” You roughly explain the ‘game’ and its rules, before going on a trial run with him.

He throws out rock and you paper, and you slap your hand over his much larger one.

“I win. Simple.” The other marine looks across the table, having listened to this entire thing but now only speaks up once the lesson is concluded.

“I’d rather just cave your face in for it,” He says, completely deadpan. The marine beside you throws out his hand, waving him off.

“Fine just take it. So you’ll shut up.”

He quickly reaches for the mug, and chugs it down as the one you're talking to returns you to his center focus.

“What other games do you all have?” He speaks like mortals are a different species all together; You suppose you can understand why. You think for a moment for something easy to explain to someone like him.

“Plenty others. Heard of arm wrestling?”

That gets both men’s interest, heads peeking up like a dog that’s been whistled at. He circles his hand for you to get speaking like he's suddenly in a hurry.

“You grab your opponents opposite hand, and try to slam it to the table using nothing but your arm.” You pantomime in out to them, and the drunker space wolf across the table leans upright, and cracks his neck.

“Alright, this one I’ll do. Go girl and get us another mug to fight over.”

You take a few massive mugs and fill them up at the keg, some serfs giving you an odd look. They've probably been watching this whole stupid argument and wondering what in Terra's name you've been encouraging their drunken masters to do. You sit the mugs down on the table once you return, seeing both men locking opposite hands.

You count them down to three and they both begin putting their strength into it, and the drunker marine goes from disinterested in the whole ordeal to completely committed, as they wrestle. A few other marines watch on with growing interest about the whole thing.

You should've figured something as simple as a random feat of strength would be the thing to get their interest.

Locked in a stalemate for a considerable while eventually the drunker marine starts losing ground, and eventually gets his hand slammed into the table.

Said slam rocks the entire table, knocking one of the mugs over and spilling mjød all over your parchment, ruining them instantly. The ink starts to run, and the actual parchment is now wet like a swamp.

After cries of victory and defeat the closer marine realizes the mess when he's halfway done guzzling down another mug, and sees the look of shock on your face; He rustles the top of your head and you shake around vigorously because of it.

“My bad lass, but at least I won.”

You pick up your parchment and shake it, and the mortal killing mjød drips from the paper and makes it sag. He then quickly changes gears, wiping the foam off his upper lip with the back of his hand and looking down at you.

"But, you got any other games like that?"

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[yuurei20]

Hey Yuurei :) Question - What's Idia's relationship with his parents like? Has he said anything super concrete? I know he's complained about them, but he also complains about everyone haha

Hello hello! Thank you for this question!

(This blog pretends that Main Story elements not released on EN do not exist because spoilers are the worst, so this will just be EN-friendly information!)

You are very correct! Idia does not seem very thrilled whenever his parents come up in conversation, but he doesn't seem very thrilled about most things unless they are a particular interest of his, so it can be hard to gauge the degree to which he does or does not get along with his family.

He has a line in Book 6 of, "Classic Mom and Dad, always prioritizing efficiency over other people's feelings."

It would be very interesting to hear other examples of this presumably recurring problem: is this truly an issue that his parents struggle with, or is Idia an unreliable narrator?

Vil and Rook, for example, provide a different perspective:

In Book 7 Idia explains that his parents have told him not to come back home for a while ("That's the diplomatic way to say they're off-loading a nuisance") and Rook responds, "I can sense the deep affection your parents must hold for you."

Idia says he isn't so sure, citing how hard they came down on him post-book-6: "I don't think they've yelled at me that bad since I was eight."

Idia says he gets scolded by his parents pretty regularly, and they will take away his power cables to punish him.

Vil points out that his parents were supportive both of Ortho's enrollment at NRC and Idia's internship.

Idia seems intent on arguing that his family situation isn't as pleasant as it may seem, saying that this parents advised him not to go into the service industry because he would be a bad fit, but Vil observes, "And that's advice they gave to you personally, regardless of the current circumstances."

Ortho talks about how he, Idia, their father and mother would all go to parks, forests and rivers together when they were very young, but after Idia withdrew they stopped going out together as a family. Original-Ortho's death may have been something of a catalyst for Idia's strained relationship with his parents.

Idia may also have a complex about not being born into a normal family, saying that he "just wanted to be like everyone else." He may possibly blame his parents for that, as well (in addition to his ancestors, whom he says "screwed over their kids, their grandkids, and everyone," forever).

Idia says that he got a lot of video games, board games and more from his parents every year for his birthday so he could play in the comfort of his room, which made him super happy, so it seems his parents were supportive of his interests!

But he also talks about bringing an old jammer that he made as a child with him to NRC because if he hadn’t someone would have thrown it away, says he once got in trouble for taking apart a game console and again for turning a vacuum cleaner into a drone with a technomantic beam cannon.

As the majority of the issues we have heard about thus far have all been from Idia himself, and he does not seem to be an unbiased source of information, it will be interesting to see if maybe there is actually another side to these stories! 👀 Would love to revisit this topic in the future!

#twstask #twisted wonderland #idia shroud