#also even if he doesn't like it

[aka-efirg]

sooo i wrote the thing i was talking about in this post and wow did it take more time to write than i planned. honestly i blame enzo, he talks too much and has too many opinions

so context for the fic, damon has been having lots of flashbacks from the previous timeline and nightmares these days so he has more and more trouble to appear fine and sometimes everything is too much for him

it's also happening after season 3 with main differences:

-alaric didn't die and get turn into an enhanced original vampire because damon kept an eye on him and made sure he didn't die more than he already did before coming back so ester couldn't corrupt his mind

-elena still gets turned into a vampire but still no idea how it happened since there was no super evil alaric to kill

-mason didn't die as well (or maybe he did, haven't decided yet) (but if he doesn't die, he will totally bitch with damon about katherine and how she manipulated them and made them fall in love with her. it's how they bonded)

-no idea what happened with ester and how they got rid of her

and during season 4 where they are trying to find the cure (jeremy is one of the five)

also damon has marks that look like burn scars on his arms and his back (hellfire) and a symbol on his chest (emily's mark to send him to the past and to protect him because him being in the past could count as being a disruption to natural balance)

Seeing Damon, seated cross-legged on his bed with fingers tightly pressed against his temples, is sadly unsurprising but nonetheless worrying. He knew it was bound to happen with how Damon spent the whole day zoning out, eyes looking at things that weren’t there, brows slightly burrowed as if he was fighting a headache. Enzo knows he is the only one who noticed—or maybe not, if the occasional glances the witch kept sending the older vampire’s way were any indication, and Enzo absently wonders what she sees, because he knows she can’t perceive what he does—

(the hurt, the despair and the guilt, the blood, the death and the fire)

so he wasn’t surprised when he witnessed Damon leaving the living room, so silently the only reason he noticed was because he didn't take his eyes off the older vampire. It took almost twenty minutes for the others to notice the oldest Salvatore was no longer with them and for Stefan to worry about where he was. At their questioning glances, Enzo simply stated that Damon was in his room before leaving as well.

(Sometimes Enzo wants to shake the younger Salvatore so hard, wants to crack his head open while screaming at him to just look at his brother, to see how much he’s hurting, all the things he hides behind sarcasm and apathy and monstrosity. He wants to gouge his eyes out just so he would have a reason to not see. And other times he wants to tear him apart because he can’t help but reminisce about hope and faith slowly shriveling as days and months and years accumulated, as blood kept pouring and screams became better than silence—because if he screams it means he is still alive it means you haven’t lost the most important thing you have left in this instant)

After closing the door as silently as possible, Enzo takes in the heavy air in the room, feeling like ozone and something electric, magic but not before focusing on his friend, his tense form on the bed, his breathing deliberately slow, sharp contrast to his heartbeat, too fast for a vampire. Slowly, Enzo walks closer to the bed, making sure to make some noise. Even if he’s sure the other vampire heard him, he doesn’t want to risk having a cornered, distressed Damon near his throat. When he notices Damon isn’t reacting save from a little tightening of his shoulders, he sits down on the mattress and waits.

“I’m fine.”

Enzo takes the time to look at his friend’s face, thin lips, burrowed brows and tightly closed eyes. In sum, in pain.

In sum, perfectly, absolutely fine.

Not even bothering to answer—did Damon really think he would believe him—, he edges closer and only then is he able to see the light, barely perceptible tremors that run through Damon’s arms, more noticeable around his hands where they’re pressed hard against the skin.

“Damon.”

The other vampire doesn’t answer, just curls a bit on himself, bringing his knees higher and his elbows closer to his body. Removing his shoes (because Damon will absolutely chew him out if his mud-covered boots so much as touch the silk covers, well… he will when he doesn’t look like a particularly sad puppy, as blood-sucking as he is, one scream away from collapsing into itself and—great now he just wants to hug this metaphorical puppy), he makes himself comfortable on the bed face to face with the older vampire waiting for him to acknowledge him.

When Damon realizes that he is not leaving and that he will not win at the waiting game (Enzo has plenty of experience in waiting and Damon is not particularly known for his patience, quite the contrary), he finally opens his eyes to glance at the younger and Enzo nearly wishes the other stayed how he was. He knows the look Damon is sending him is supposed to be a glare, to convey his annoyance at his presence but all Enzo can see is the shine. Gleaming blue eyes looking at him and… fuck he didn’t think it was that bad.

Damon must read something on his face because his eyes harden, a sneer appearing on his lips.

“I’m fine. Go away.”

Enzo has to act quick if he doesn’t want Damon to completely close himself off.

Suddenly Enzo wants nothing more than take every single person who made Damon so cautious and insecure about his hurts and vulnerabilities the simple thought of having them feels like a weakness, of showing them a burden, and tear them to shreds, piece by piece so they can feel every hurt, every tear they forced Damon to keep for himself. He wants to watch them burn, helpless and begging for mercy. And okay, maybe this is a bit extreme, but he spent seventy years being tortured, cut open, reduced to nothing but a mass of bones and blood. He long lost faith in mercy, leaving him only with a rage so intense and unending he wants to put the world on fire, scorching it into nothingness, just to sit on its ashes (or maybe dance, Damon has always loved dancing) and revel in the resulting absolute and beautiful desolation.

(When Enzo is left with nothing but fierce everlasting rage, he needs to unleash it because he knows, otherwise, it will simply consume him and everything around him. But—

—his torturers are all dead. Enzo remembers the ravages Damon left when he came back and rescued him, the complete destruction of everything Augustine represents, in pieces, covered in red and burning so hot he could almost feel the flames licking at his body, but this time, a promise of freedom instead of a promise of pain and blood.

—no matter how much he cursed the man, hated him with a searing, blinding passion, Enzo has long accepted he could never harm Damon. No matter how much he tried—and tried he did—. So many times (too many times part of him cries) he found himself looking down at the other vampire, straddling him, a stake pressed on his chest, tip piercing the skin just above the heart. Just one pressure and the wood would slide right through the bone. Blue eyes looking up at him, blankly, calmly, just waiting to see what he would do. So accepting Enzo wanted to scream at him to defend himself, to stop making himself so vulnerable. To do something because he left him to die, he killed one of the most important people he had and he shouldn’t accept to die. He doesn’t have any right to let Enzo kill the last person he has left. He did scream a few times, eyes burning with tears, until his throat was so sore the only sounds that left his mouth were rasps of rage and despair, and all he could do was throw the stake so hard against the wall it exploded in thousand fragments before collapsing, curses on his lips and apologies and regrets on Damon’s.

So while he doesn’t care whether the world burns and crashes, he will be damned before he lets anything happen to Damon. If he can’t direct his rage to the ones who wronged him—all dead and ashes and unable to harm them anymore—, he has no issue focusing it on the people who hurt his person.)

Distractedly wondering if it would be possible to resurrect one Guiseppe Salvatore, just to have the pleasure of killing him atrociously, Enzo practically jumps on the other vampire, taking his wrists into his hands. The glare Damon sends him is ferocious, and Enzo is sure if he were anyone else, he would have lost a few fingers for his trouble. When he’s certain he actually won’t lose any part of his body, he slowly lets go of the other’s hands and moves until he finds himself behind Damon, against the head of the bed. Even though the older vampire is watching him, he still lets a soft noise of surprise when arms grip his waist to pull him against the other’s body. He fights the hold for a moment until the younger vampire tightens his arms and drops his head against shoulder.

For a moment, everything is still and silent except for their breathings, one calm and deliberate, the other rapid and jerky until it progressively slows down. The shaking doesn’t stop though and when Enzo notices the tight grip Damon has on his own arm, hard and grinding—he is surprised the bone hasn’t given way yet—, he places his own hand on the other’s to make him relax his grip.

He turns his head, his lips barely touching the other vampire’s skin, but he still feels Damon react, how he inhales abruptly and presses himself more against him.

“It’s okay.” And he drops a faint kiss where the shoulder and the neck meet and Damon simply… stops. Falls further into Enzo like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut. A whimper escapes his mouth, something like a sob. Enzo kisses him a second time, this time on the neck, right on the pulse point. “I’ve got you.”

The next kiss lasts longer and, after removing Damon’s hand from his arm, he starts rubbing his thumb on the already healing bruises, feeling the sharp and still-getting-used-to contrast between cold and warm.

(This is something new. Where now sit marks—burn scar-like—, Damon’s skin is an interesting and unnatural mix of cold and warm skin. Vampires and undead cold. Humans and living warm. The first time he noticed it, he wasn’t able to contain his curiosity. But, when he questioned it, Damon shut down. Frozen and staring into space, watching things only he could see. He stayed like that for almost one hour, not even realizing how long he was in this state nor remembering what the question was. It was enough for Enzo to know not to ask about it again.)

His arm still around Damon’s waist now sits under his T-shirt, gently stroking his ribs, enjoying the light shiver that follows his hand. His lips stretched slightly, and he knows Damon felt it because he hears the beginning of a growl that ends up in a strange and entertaining mix between a groan and a moan when he starts dragging his nails instead. Enzo lifts his head, laying his cheek on the other’s shoulder, when he feels Damon turning his head. Placed like this, their noses bump before they can look at each other. When their eyes meet, Enzo smiles at the glint of amusement in Damon’s eyes. Because he much prefers this to the empty stare the blue-eyed vampire has been displaying all day, he slightly moves his head, rubbing their noses together once again. He is rewarded with a small chuckle, barely a sound but here in the way Damon’s lips stretched up a little and his eyes lighted up for a second. Feeling a bit lighter than when he entered the room, he can’t resist pressing his lips against the other’s and revels in the soft moan of surprise he gets in response. Damon doesn’t reciprocate, but he feels him relaxing, heartbeat finally calming down to a vampire-normal one.

When they separate, and since they’re already all feeling and soft, he murmurs a faint “I love you” and—wow the look he gets is so precious, so fragile it is heartbreaking.

(Seriously, tomorrow the second-class scooby gang (Yes, Enzo thinks pettily, they don’t deserve Capital Letters.) better be on their best behavior, or heads will be rolling.)

“I love you.” He repeats, making sure to look the other in the eyes, and kisses him one last time before repositioning himself behind Damon, bringing him closer. The other vampire leans against him, grabbing the hand next to his arm and starts playing with it. With the way he seems too focused on their linked hands, Damon must be thinking about something. Used to him sometimes needing time to organize his thoughts before speaking, Enzo simply waits for him to be ready to speak. Absently he goes back to stroking the other’s ribs, head resting against the headboard and his eyes closed.

Somewhere between his thoughts about the probability of making Stefan disappear without Damon noticing (zero percent) and if cheese chips and chocolate ice cream would make a good combination (the idea has some merit), Damon stopped fiddling with his hand, dragging his forefinger the long of his fingers instead. Enzo gets distracted by the change and almost misses Damon speaking.

“I love you too.”

Well, speaking might be the wrong word. The words are said, barely a whisper. And without his super-hearing, he would have missed them. Before he can respond, he feels Damon tensing a bit before he moves, so that they are facing each other, more or less with Damon still seated between his legs and his own arm around the other’s chest.

His eyes meet blue eyes, intense, filled with determination.

(God, Enzo loves these eyes. Haunting unforgettable breathtaking eyes.)

“I love you too. I know I don’t say it often. But I do.”

(Be still, vampire-heart. No need to beat like a normal human one.)

“I know you do. You made it pretty clear from the moment you came back to rescue me.”

That seems to take Damon by surprise who can’t help but blurt a stunned “What?”, eyes wide open.

“I mean I didn’t let myself believe at the beginning because… well obvious reasons,” and Enzo is pleased to see the other is not looking away for once, despite the flicker of shame and guilt that still flashes in the blue eyes. “But trust me, thinking back about it now, it’s really evident. You came back. For me.” Enzo takes the way Damon opens his mouth, probably ready to refute what he is saying, and glares at him. What he wants to say is hard enough. After a few seconds of hesitation, he takes a breath. “We talked about it. Several times. You know what I think and you know I forgave you. The thing, Damon, is yes I was angry and hurt and I felt betrayed. But there were days I was… not happy but relieved you could say. Because you got out. Because, deep down, I knew if you hadn’t left me, you would have got captured again and it would have meant the year prior would have been for nothing. That whole year, starving like I never did, always feeling on the verge of desiccation, would have been in vain. Plus, who knows what they would have done to you after you killed every attendee at the party. They were vicious afterwards.”

(And they were. The year that followed the massacre at the New Year party was atrocious. The scientists who survived or who weren’t there felt vindictive—like they had any right—and they took it out on him. He was an easy target for their revenge. The experiments became harsher, unforgiving and downward crueler—something he didn’t think was possible after fifteen years in their clutches. And if the physical torture wasn’t enough, he was feeling hurt and betrayed in the worst way possible. And so angry. There were days he was so furious the pain of the experiments barely registered. He would spend these days on the operating table planning how to take revenge on Damon in the most brutal and devastating way possible.

He knew everything about him, it would have been so easy to ruin him irreparably. Because Damon, for all he appears callous and impervious, cares. So much it is ludicrously frighteningly simple to hurt him.)

“But this is not what I was getting at. I mean, we can talk about it again. If you want. But another day. When at least one of us is emotionally able to lead this kind of conversation. What I wanted to say originally is… you came back. And no matter how angry, hurt or relieved I was that you weren’t there with me anymore, I still hold that hope that you would. Come back I mean.” For some reason, Damon looks particularly stricken at that, something heavier than guilt shining brightly in his eyes and Enzo almost wants to ask about it. Doesn’t because he knows Damon will not answer. “Of course, the hope I had that you would rescue me flickered a lot. Some days I felt ridiculous thinking you’d save me because I saw you turn your humanity off and you probably thought I was dead. But some days I was thinking to myself that maybe today would be the day you wake up and realize I didn’t die that day and that you’d come.” Unable to look at Damon for his next words, Enzo lowers his head, staring at their linked hands instead. “These days were the worst.” At the sharp inhale from his ex-cellmate, he stares down more intensely. “Because at the end of the day, I was still in this cell and I felt so stupid. But as stupid as hoping was, it… helped me. In some kind of cruel way. Because, if I had hope, I had something to hold onto. I couldn’t keep relying on anger to survive. I would have gone crazy. Lost myself in ways everything they did to me would never have. But, these last years, it was getting harder and harder to hold on to something positive. The fatigue, the pain, it made it easy for all the negative emotions to break through. Even then, I was losing my grip on them. And all of a sudden, after fifty years, you are here. You are standing in front of my cell, covered in blood. Then, you open the door and I’m out of the cell. I’m walking through the lab and there is blood and bodies everywhere. Until you shoved that guard at me so that I could drink, I was still persuaded it was a hallucination. A very elaborated one my brain conjured to… torture me more I guess. Damn, I don’t even remember where I was getting, but the bottom line is you came back when I thought you wouldn’t.”

When he finally looks up, he swallows. Damon looks devastating, he can practically see his heart breaking in his eyes. Enzo hesitates. He didn’t mean to make Damon feel worse. Maybe he should have waited for him to be emotionally more stable. Releasing the other’s hand—and pretending not to hear the wounded sound at the action—, he puts his two hands on Damon’s cheeks, making sure he is looking at him.

“You came back and got me out when you could have left me there,” Enzo can’t help but feel a bit relieved when he sees the other frown, protective anger in the lines of his face. “And then you didn’t leave me alone, you stayed, and you took care of me.” Dark eyes stare straight into wide blue ones. “At first, I thought it was out of guilt, and maybe it was, partially. But I know you. Guilt alone wouldn’t make you stay or help. Or keep still while someone is pointing a stake at your heart.” The last part is said with a bit of reproach despite Enzo knowing it is useless. Damon has something akin to a martyr complex but instead of the whole thing about sacrificing himself for people’s sake, he is willing to die if he feels he deserves it. In a fucked-up way, despite how it angered him at the time—still does to be honest—, Damon not trying to defend himself and looking ready to accept whatever punishment Enzo had for him, even death, was what convinced him Damon was earnest, made him realize how important he was to him.

(He swears, people who say Damon is unable to feel any sort of remorse have never seen him actually deal with guilt. Probably because it presents itself as recklessness and stupid impulsive decisions. Ordinary Damon things. But the thing with guilt is that Damon takes all of his worst traits and makes them worse.)

Because Damon has a thing about deals and debts. He particularly noticed it these last months, seeing him interact with people who are not himself nor doctors and their assistants. How he would carefully formulate his sentences, always letting himself some ground to defend himself if something goes wrong. How he would retaliate if he thought someone wronged him, or someone he cares about, one way or another. And okay maybe what he considers as wrongdoings is very subjective, but meet them and you find yourself confronted with a particularly violent and vindictive vampire. Enzo would have thought the others would have noticed it at this point, particularly the wording thing. But since he has arrived, they were still as careless as ever with their words and as clueless about Damon’s.

He is pretty sure the only person who caught on is Elijah, but it is probably because the Original vampire is as careful as Damon with his phrasing. Hell, the two practically made a game out of it, see who will be able to outword the other first without anyone noticing it—except Enzo who usually watches the two going at it with amusement. And keeps score. At the moment, they’re tied. Damon won the last point after the questioning and suspicious look Klaus sent his brother. (The victorious subtle but not really smirk Damon sent to Elijah made Klaus glance pointedly at the younger vampire. All it did was make Damon smirk more obnoxiously, this time mockingly at the hybrid. Enzo was already planning how to steal Klaus’s blood to cure the idiot from werewolf venom.)

“You don’t make a habit of showing your caring unless you actually do care, and even then you have to know what to look for. And you haven’t stopped since then. You think I haven’t noticed how you always seem to have blood bags close at hand. How you always make sure to be between me and the biggest threat in the room—which, I see how you keep flicking your eyes between me and Stefan, as if you don’t know whom to stay close to. Sometimes you look like you’re one blink away from kidnapping us out of the situation. Or one of us so that you can completely focus on the other. It’s cute in a way. Pretty sure Stefan thinks it’s unsettling the way you stare at him, but at least I get to laugh at his growing paranoia.”

A small laugh escapes Damon’s mouth. This little feud between Enzo and Stefan never stops amusing him.

“I love you. And I know you do too.” Right, this is what it was about originally. “You show it to me every day. I don’t need you to say it all the time.”

Damon simply stares at him in response, a small frown appearing between his brows. “It doesn’t mean I couldn’t say it more often.”

“And it is nice hearing it. But it doesn't mean I need to hear it, you already show it to me every time, every day.” When he sees Damon's brows furrow deeper, lips thinning in displeasure, he adds. “Stop being a stubborn dolt and just accept it.”

Now at the risk of incurring Damon’s wrath, Enzo's lips turn up in a small smile at the face the other vampire is making—which is not a pout because big bad vampires do not pout. (And it's not big bad wolfy who will disagree. His expression when he was told by his brother that his idea of turning Mystic Falls inhabitants into vampires so the littlest Gilbert could complete the map better stayed an idea was not a pout. Enzo sometimes looks at Damon and Klaus and can't help but laugh because no wonder these two can't get along, they're just too similar in the worst possible way.)

“I’m not saying all this to make you feel better. I am telling you. I have never doubted it. Believe me, when you’re being all you,” at the confused tilt of head he gets, he simply smiles, “it’s not hard to tell. I mean, even your brother knows you love him and you are a lot meaner with him. And… and I have no idea what we were talking about but I love you, you love me, we love each other, it’s nice.”

Damon raises an eyebrow, all judgment and wow, Enzo can see the resemblance between both Salvatore with this expression. “It’s nice? Really?”

“Shut it! I didn’t really plan on being all emotional today.”

The light amusement on Damon’s face straight away dies out and Enzo kind of wants to hit himself for it.

“Sorry. Today just felt… too much.”

Enzo smiles sadly and cups Damon’s face with his left hand, making sure to look him in the eyes. “Want to talk about it?”

The answer is obvious on Damon’s face, but after sighing, he still answers. “I thought I was doing okay, but they started talking about the most efficient way to kill as many supernatural creatures as possible. And it was too much because they are basically talking about mass murder and, I mean, I don't particularly care but… I don’t know, today I didn’t feel like listening anymore.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, there was no progress on this front after you left. Doubt there has been any since I left.”

“Give them a few hours, they’ll come up with something. They can be particularly ruthless when it comes to their interests.” With a slight frown, he adds. “I better find a good place to hide the stake.” At Enzo’s questioning glance, he says. “I don’t trust them with something like that.”

Something in the way Damon said this sounds strange to Enzo. But aware the raven-haired vampire will not answer him, he doesn’t push. “What about your human buddy? Can’t he dissuade them from doing anything stupid?”

“You really think they’ll listen to Ric? I mean, Jeremy might but that’s all. And even then, the others can easily talk him into whatever shitty plan they think up. Believe me, it’s easier than it seems to convince little siblings to do what you want.”

Seeing how just thinking about what the Scooby Gang could come up with seems to suck out all of Damon’s energy, Enzo brings his other hand to the other’s face before kissing him. Damon instantly relaxes at the contact and leans forward to deepen the kiss. Thanks to their dampened need to breathe, the kiss lasts a few minutes during which Enzo lets himself think of nothing. Simply Damon seated between his legs, solid and real. His hands holding the dead-cold skin. One of Damon’s hands resting on his hip and the other gripping his knee. Enzo lets a moan escape when he feels Damon’s hand slides under his T-shirt, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. Feeling the other’s lips stretching into a smile, Enzo retaliates by biting them, fangs out, savoring the taste of blood on his tongue and the grunt accompanying it.

Finally breaking the kiss, Enzo’s attention zeroes in on the already healing bite and resists the urge to reopen it. A temptation starting to be too strong when Damon almost makes a show of licking his lips to get rid of the blood. So instead, Enzo focuses on the blue eyes already looking right at him. He lets himself a few seconds to lose himself in being Damon’s sole focus, gently stroking his cheeks, watching how the raven is leaning in at the movement, not breaking eye contact. He smiles, a tiny little thing, when Damon turns his head, taking his thumb in his mouth to nibble at it, not even piercing the skin. Sometimes Damon has the cutest little habits.

“Feel like doing anything?”

Damon lets his thumb go and stops to think, observing the younger vampire closely—probably (certainly) to determine what Enzo wants—so Enzo makes sure to keep his expression open, letting him know that the choice is entirely his, that he is okay with whatever he decides. After several seconds of scrutinizing, Damon seems to come to a decision. Still fixated on the other vampire, he slowly shakes his head.

“Not really. Not today. Can we just…” He seems to hesitate—shy as Damon Salvatore should never be—before gesticulating his hand between them and the bed.

Enzo doesn’t wait to agree, having immediately understood what Damon meant.

(Someone needs to remind Damon that it is alright to simply want to cuddle without sex involved. That if he wants someone to hold him, he just has to ask.)

(Realizing that the love of your life you spent a century and half trying to save from a fate worse than death lied to you and only used you for sex had certainly led to some serious self-love issues. Enzo would really like to have more words with Katherine Pierce. In retrospect, maybe he should have burned her the first time he met her. Because she damaged Damon so deeply Enzo has a visceral need to hurt her. And Enzo could appreciate the irony)

“Yeah, we can.” Letting the other go, Enzo takes his place back against the headboard and puts his arms around Damon’s waist when the older vampire pushes himself against him. Damon immediately grabs one of his hands in his before he starts playing with it. When Enzo doesn’t feel the other vampire relax after a few minutes, he puts his free hand on Damon’s tight, stroking the covered skin. At the light tensing of the man in his arms, Enzo begins to delicately put kisses on the exposed skin in front of him. He keeps doing so, butterfly kisses on the neck, nothing more, and his hand rubbing lazy circles on the other’s tight, not moving higher or lower, until he feels Damon slowly relaxing in his embrace once he is certain Enzo has no intention of going further.

The air around them feels lighter and lighter every second Damon unwinds a bit more until Enzo doesn’t feel like he’s about to be struck by lightning anymore. Instead, all he feels is warm contentment, and he lets himself be lulled into a soft feeling of security he doesn’t think he has ever been able to feel until Damon. Because there is something about the older vampire that makes him feel safe, that tells him he can let his guard down because he knows the other won’t let anything happen to him.

“How about we stop existing for a few hours?” Damon simply hums in response. “No original vampires, no magical map, no cure, and more importantly, no teenager drama. Just you and I between four walls, against the outside world.”

“At least there is no cement wall between us.”

“At least there is nothing to prevent us from cuddling.” He lets a short laugh escape at Damon’s groan.

“Please don’t call it that.”

“I’m calling it how I see it.” To emphasize his point, he tightens his hold and shoves his face in the junction between Damon’s neck and his shoulder. “I’m cuddling you.”

“You’re strangling me. You planning on letting me breathe at some point?” His only answer is the tightening of the grip around him, efficiently constricting his lungs. “Very funny.”

The dry tone only causes Enzo to drop a kiss on his neck followed by a nip right on his pulse point. “You don’t need to breathe.”

Damon huffs before slapping one of Enzo’s legs. “I do. And I’ll need to, eventually.”

“Admit we’re cuddling and maybe I’ll let you.”

“Maybe?” The clutch Damon’s in tightens a bit more.

“I’m very comfortable in this position.”

“You’re trying to crush my rib cage.”

“Cuddling.”

“Cuddling does not involve broken bones. Nor asphyxia.”

“That’s what you think. You just haven’t cuddled anyone in a long time.”

“We— You’re the one who spent decades as a rat lab, what do you know?” He simply gets a hum in response. “Plus, I’m the one who was stuck with a clingy angel-faced little sibling.”

“It was like two centuries ago. Doesn’t count.”

“It was never-happened ago for you. I win.”

“Okay little spoon, whatever you say.”

“How do you even know about that?”

“I’m catching up on modern slang.”

“Please, never say that word again. It sounds wrong coming from you.” Enzo decides to not answer and instead bites the skin on Damon’s neck before sucking. The other vampire inhales sharply. “If you’re hungry, there is blood downstairs.”

Enzo lifts his head to place it on Damon’s shoulder. “And risk bumping into the gaggle of murderous babies. No, thank you.” He sweeps the room with his eyes. “You should have blood in your room. Why don’t you have blood in your room?”

Damon doesn’t answer, preferring instead to settle more cozily against the younger vampire with a faint sigh of content. Enzo adjusts his grip until they’re both comfortable. Damon takes his hand once again, fiddling with his fingers and his ring. With Damon’s fixation with his hands, Enzo is half worried Damon is going to steal them. Or his ring. Damon looks like the kind of person to steal jewelry because he likes it.

After a few minutes of silence, Enzo leans his head toward Damon, chin hooked on the other's shoulder, a small smirk on his lips. He can feel Damon shift at his movement. “So,” from the way Damon freezes, he probably already knows he won't like what he'll hear. It simply makes his smile widen. “What about snuggling?”

Without missing a beat, Damon answers. “I'm disowning you. Starting now and ending never.” But, despite his words, he doesn't move. On the contrary, he leans further backwards and Enzo can't resist. 

“Looks like to me you do want more snuggles.”

With a grunt of disgust, Damon makes a move to extract himself from the other's embrace cuddle but Enzo tightens his grip. “Okay, okay, no cuddling and no snuggling. Just you and I against the outside world.” Despite his words, he makes sure to snuggle the other vampire as close as he can. “So, what do you say? We pretend the outside world doesn’t exist and we stay here where nothing can reach us?”

“I like the idea.”

Enzo smiles and starts stroking Damon’s arms with the tips of his fingers until the other is completely relaxed and nearly asleep. He drops a small kiss on Damon’s lower jaw and shifts a bit so they are both comfortably settled. He waits until he’s sure Damon is asleep before picking his phone to write a quick message to Alaric to tell him to not bother them until at least midday the day after. Message sent and not waiting for the confirmation the hunter saw it, he puts the phone down, adjusts his grip and lets his head fall against the headboard, listening to Damon’s breathing gradually lull him into sleep.

They have tons of problems to deal with, but for now, he’s content enough to ignore them. They’ll have all the time to worry about them tomorrow. And the day after. And every day that follows. His last thought before succumbing to sleep is wondering if he'd be able to convince Damon to ditch Mystic Falls and its seemingly never-ending troubles.

END

so this ends up being longer than i planned, sorry for that but i hope you liked it i had fun writing it

i'll probably edit and post it on ao3 at some point, there are stuff i haven't been able to fit here so we'll see

also damon might seem a bit out of character but you should remember that the guy came back from a future where he saw everyone he loved die and he was having a bad week

#vampire diaries #damon salvatore #enzo st. john #denzo #my writing #i'm sorry this is very soft #well softer than what i planned to begin with #for not being here stefan is mentioned A LOT #what can i say #also even if he doesn't like it #enzo knows stefan is very important to damon #it's a whole “i can't change it but i still don't like it” #enzo is fiercely protective of damon #don't worry #damon feels the same about enzo

[inkskinned]

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

#this shifts gender so much bc it actually affects everyone #yes it's a gendered phenomenon. i have written a LOT about how different genders experience it. that's for a different post. #writeblr #ps my comments about seeing someone cry -- this is not to shame any person #and on this blog we support workers. #at the same time it's a really hard experience to see someone that looks like you. clearly in agony. and have them forced to keep going. #when you're young it doesn't necessarily look like acting. it looks scary. and that's what this is about - the fact that teens #have likely already been exposed to that definition of things. because the internet exists #and without the context of healthy education. THAT is the image burned into their minds about what it looks like. #it's also just one of those personal nuanced biases - #at 19 i thought it was normal to be in pain. to cry. to not-like-it. that it should be perfunctory. #it was what i had seen. #and it didn't help that my religious upbringing was like . 'yeah that's what you get for premarital. but also for the reference #we do think you should never actually enjoy it lol' #so like the point im making is that ppl get exposed to that stuff without the context of something more tender #and assume .... 'oh. so it's fine i am not enjoying myself'. and i know they do because I DID. #he was my first boyfriend. how was i supposed to know any different #i didn't even have the mental wherewithal to realize im a lesbian . like THAT used to suffering.

[yourangle-yuordevil]

what if we flirted at the gentlemen club 😳 (and we were both flirting) 😞❤️😞Discreet Gentlemen's Club

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #Headcanon time: All the dancers at the Gentlemen Club fell in love with Mr. Fell at one point because he is such a cutie <3 #and Aziraphale calls Crowley to investigate because he doesn't realize that he's too cute for this world #and instead thinks that his fellow dancers are being tempted!!!!???? #And Crowley just snort laugh for ages while he watches Aziraphale flirt with all the gentlemens without even realizing that he's flirting #the day that Crowley and Aziraphale leaves Portland together #they go to say goodbye at the Gentlemen's club #and all the Gentlemen; after saying goodbye to Aziraphale #shakes Crowley's hand with a knowing look of “Respect to you sir; you managed to charm Mr. Fell. Good for you” #and Crowley looks back at them behind his glasses like ???????????? #good omens comic #historical husbands #discreet gentlemen's club #ALSO: #fumetto che deve MORIRE 🤗 #perchè ha osato esplodere mentre salvavo 🤗 #mandando a puttane tutto il lineart 🤗 #aspetta come si dice???? BRUCIAAAAAAA 🤗 #🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥

[egophiliac]

this is basically what happened, right?

(these guys are very lucky that everyone at NRC 1) has the combined intelligence of a sack of bricks, and 2) is easily distracted by shiny things.)

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #stage in playful land #stage in playfulland #these two are SO sleazy and i am utterly delighted by them #can't wait to find out their tragic backstory in approximately 3-4 weeks! #fortunately i have like a month to figure out how the heck to draw their hair (spoiler: i will never figure it out) #also. god. i love it whenever leona accidentally reveals his Mom Side. #he doesn't care about any of this but he WILL be tagging along to make sure no one else gets into trouble #once again he has to be the Responsible Adult and he hates it. the whimsical hat weighs heavy upon his head. #anyway this is me so excuse me while i now talk about diasomnia for three hours #but lilia being all 'kids gotta have some adventure in their lives!' is hilarious #specifically because you know silver would NEVER. #100% silver not only never snuck out but he always went to bed on time AND brushed his teeth AND flossed even when nobody made him. #lilia: aww but you should be enjoying your youth! >:c #silver: i am. i enjoy being respectful and disciplined and honoring you as my father. #lilia: #lilia: maybe i'm TOO good at raising kids #you know i was going to say none of his kids would be involved in this but i actually think malleus definitely would #he would not see it as a moral quandry though. he would just be excited to be invited along. #(the only reason he isn't there is because he was busy admiring a termite-infested beam somewhere and yuu didn't get a chance to ask him) #i mean MAYBE if lilia as his single authority figure told him no then he would have some reservations #but lilia's the one who's screaming HELL YEAH LET'S SNEAK OUT AND DEFY AUTHORITY while dabbing so moot point there #sebek would never and he would rat on everyone else. unless malleus is going in which case he's already there. #and i guess if everyone else is going silver probably would too #but he'd. y'know. feel conflicted about it.

[1941-crowley-slut]

I hope everyone realizes that aside from Crowley not being in heaven, Aziraphale will also not have anything else he likes.

There are no books in heaven. There's no tea or hot chocolate, no music, no crêpes or sushi. So not only does he lose the love of his life and has to operate without him, but he also isn't allowed any of his comfort things, all while I'm sure the angels are hostile against him (even if they pretend otherwise).

Aziraphale has nothing.

#bro is not gonna last #he went to jail for crepes guys he's gonna snap very soon #and did you see the annoyance on his face when gabriel knocked on his door and interrupted his music #he loves earthly stuff too much and he doesn't even realize it yet #also i'm sure when he comes back there'll be a soft heartfelt moment between him and crowley #where crowley's like “You came back” and aziraphale smiles softly and says “Missed the sushi” as they make heart eyes #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #gomens2 #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens 2

[starwarjotta]

Day 3 - cloak thankfully Obi-Wan's robe cloak is big enough to wrap around a certain Commander who might've been tossed into the freezing river during a mission oh and when there's a chance to make something even more Codywan? ofc I'll do it, here's a bonus

it was a long mission, okay

#codywan #CODYWAN #ofc codywan #star wars #starwarstober23 #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #any chance to have Cody wrapped up in Obi-Wan's oversized robe is taken in this blog #it warm and soft and big okay #very comfy #also Cody is so done #stupid missions with stupid rivers #Cody is soaked and he's not happy about it #Obi-Wan thinks he's kinda cute all drenched like that especially since he's grumpy about it #but also doesn't want him to catch a cold so ofc he'll give Cody his cloak robe thing #which makes Cody even CUTER in his opinion #idiots in love #btw did I mention CODYWAN

[jedi-starbird]

Palpatine: My boy, Master Kenobi is lying to you!

Anakin: ?...yeah? He does that? Lying is Obi-Wan's favourite sport. Bant told me that he was dropped on his head by Master Qui-Gon when he was a child and Master Qui-Gon was really tall, so the fall shook loose some things in his brain and now Obi-Wan is allergic to giving straight answers. It took me 3 years to figure out his favourite colour. and his birthday. 5 to figure out that he's allergic to shellfish. I once told a restaurant that Obi-Wan can't have shrimp and he told me to "stop giving information to the enemy". I've made a game of it really.

Palpatine: *muttering under his breath* ok try using shrimp next time

Anakin: what?

Palpatine: Nothing!

#look it'd be so funny if palpatine slandering obi wan doesn't work because anakin has accepted that obi wan is just the weirdest person ever #rako hardeen arc where instead of unstable angst anakins like oh hope obi wans having fun he's had a fake death vision board for ages #anakin saying all this as if he is not also the weirdest person ever to non-jedi and even most other jedi mr my dad is a cosmic energy #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #anakin and obi wan #star wars

[starry-bi-sky]

danyal al ghul memes because i don't think i've done those yet for this au.

(the jason one is in reference to the fanon headcanon/au that Jason and Damian potentially knew each other and interacted while jason was in the league. I've thought about it before in context of this au, but haven't thought about it enough to feel inspired or motivated to make a post exploring the idea)

(diablito means, as you can guess, 'little devil'. while i'm neutral to latino jason, i think the nickname is cute as fuck and was danny's main nickname from Jason. i don't wanna touch that timeline so im not gonna decide how old they were when Jason was there.)

Skulker: i am the ghost zone's greatest hunter! i capture and hunt creatures both rare and dangerous. Danyal: a poacher?? you're a poacher?? you poach animals??Skulker:...i sense i've made a mistake of some kind.

anyways that was the day that Skulker cemented himself as Danny's no.1 opp, and still remains there to this day even if he and Vlad are both viciously fighting for second. Out of everyone in the the AP rogues gallery, Skulker will be the first to be thrown under the bus in terms of 'o shit here comes phantom fucking RUN'.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul au #dpxdc memes #danyal al ghul #dpdc #truly the epitome of “i dont faster than the bear i just need to be faster than YOU” #regardless of when Jason was with the league he *does* know that Danny loved Damian. don't ask me about the timeline because it'll be #*messsyyyy* and i've seen plenty of aus where jason was there while Damian as an infant so i can totally believe this could happen i just #need to do the mental gymnastics for it. not even. baby im faceplanting right into the mat and not getting up #the last meme is a tiktok sound that i found and thought was hilarious. and would also ABSOLUTELY be a story danyal would tell the #family after reuniting and developing a bond with them. damian has no recollection of this but is embarrassed nonetheless #danny spat that story out when he over heard damian claiming he doesn't have any embarrassing stories from the league. danny beat jason #to the punch and in the most deadpan voice said 'i remember you walking into my room. as a toddler. in nothing but a diaper. and picking #a marble up off the floor and holding it out. like the skull of yorick. before putting it as far down your throat as possible. i had to #stick my entire arm down your esophagus to pull it out. and save your life' before walking away #i got the ages wrong in the last image so just assume that danny recently turned seven and damian is like #18 months old #about a year and a half.

[beansnpeets]

Thinking about human behaviour compared to animal behaviour again.

It's funny to hear people (the older gens) complaining that "kids these days are lazy, they don't wanna work, etc." What do we get for busting our asses? There is no reward. Many will never own homes. Many are unemployed, trying to find work, and nobody will hire them because they don't have a million years experience and a masters degree OR they want people to work for minimum wage??? People are giving up because there is no reward. Why would we do all this for nothing?

Same as a dog that won't recall when you haven't reinforced it with a reward. Your dog isn't going to do what you tell it to if there is no incentive. No, your dog SHOULDN'T listen just because you're boss and it should respect you. That isn't how it works. They don't think that way. And honestly neither do people.

When we went hiking Sprocket wasn't always taking treats gently from me when I recalled her or she checked in and I rewarded and my one friend told me to stop giving her treats. I told him I won't work for free so why should she. And he said "I do things for free all the time because I want to do them," and I didn't say it then, but I wish I had, but if you like doing it, that's the incentive. It's a self-rewarding behaviour. Just like anything else a dog does, like chasing a squirrel or sniffing things or getting into the trash. Heeling instead of going off to sniff stuff or recalling off of something they want to chase is something you have to reinforce. You have to give them something better so they make the choice you want them to make. They won't make it just because they *respect* you. They won't willingly recall off of exciting prey out of RESPECT. You need to give them a tangible reward for that. You cannot possibly expect your dog to listen just because and then punish them for disobeying you.

Yeah, Sprocket bit my fingers a couple times. The one time pretty hard. But she was excited. She knows how to take gently and I reminded her and she tried very hard to be gentle most of the time. I wasn't going to stop rewarding her for checking in with me and recalling while we were off leash hiking in the woods. I want her to know that coming back to me is good and in the event of an emergency I would like her to not blow me off.

#barkin up some trees #personal #the way my friends train their dog is not the way I would ever train a dog #in fairness he isnt food or toy motivated #and i dont have issues with ecollars #but they dont actually reward him for anything really #praise but little to nothing else #like yeah of course he is gonna blow you off to jump in the lake #lake is more rewarding than recalling to you when you have nothing to offer him in return #the way they recall him is that he has to come to them and then give a hand boop #and if he doesn't make contact they keep asking him until he does it #and then no reward #other than praise #which he doesnt seem to really care that much about #idk it just doesnt feel right the way they train him and i dont take advice from them on training #they also basically never have him on a leash even tho it is required by law in town #after the hike we went to the lodge restaurant and luckily we had an extra lead in the truck #otherwise they hadnt even brought one along so they were gonna leave him in their car while we ate #idk like i love my friends and they are nice people but jesus christ

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao) #but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

[renecdote]

do you think Bruce ever lies awake at night thinking about all the things he has taught his kids and how it seemed like a good idea at the time but maybe some of those habits are actually more bad than good

#Dick Grayson #Bruce Wayne #Batman #DC #how many times has alfred told bruce to step back from a case? #to sleep? to eat? to take one moment away from an obsession so it doesn't drag him fully down? #and yeah the thing dick can't leave alone here is looking out for bruce #but it's also the case. the cape. the need to Fix things #dick is all but saying 'I love you' here #but I'm sure bruce is just hearing the echoes of his own obsession in the kids he raised into vigilantism #and I bet it haunts him that he has made them even a little bit like himself #having many feelings about them......

[wasyago]

we're at it again🕺

#jrwi riptide #gillion tidestrider #my art #sketch #back on my bullshit woo yeah woo yeah woo yeah #genuinely a lot happier with this design than the previous ones. the lighter metal looks better on him #and this one doesn't have a lot of detail (or any detail tbh) so it looks more solid and fun i think #and you can see im trying to figure out how gill would carry his sword around #technically he should just carry it in his hands and don't have a scabbard because its a longsword and isn't supposed to be sheathed... #but like... its not practical to always carry it in his hands. especially in a day to day life. because he always has the sword on him- #but he doesn't necessarily always hold it? like. he needs hands for stuff #i think i like the back scabbard better (even if i drew the whole turnaround for the hip one) just because it doesn't mess with his tail #plus that way destiny's blade is higher up and gets to look around at stuff and i think its funny #but then like... the cape is a little awkward if it has to go above the sword... #but its not a big deal. if he has a cape and armor on he probably holds the sword in his hands anyway #am i putting too much thought into this unnecessary detail? yes #am i rambling in the tags again instead of making a separate post? also yes

[mirrorhouse]

i wonder how many more people would've vehemently hated gale right off the bat on full release if his introduction conversation had stayed like this or something similar

#i wasn't realy involved in any discussions during ea but i do know a lot of people didn't trust or like gale then #but i always really loved the wind imagery he uses with his phrasing here #and the way he casually walks out of the portal like it's effortless and then stands over you literally talking down to you #in the full release your first impression of him is a guy stuck with no way to free himself without your help #then when you do help him he's very friendly and kind and doesnt come across as threatening at all. and you talk to him on level ground #even his most dismissive remark about the player's magic or lack of it just after meeting him doesn't come across as strong as this one imo #also. i have like no other clips from ea saved other than this one lol #baldur's gate #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #★

[vivitalks]

i'm sure this post has been made before but the "the list of people i trust and things i believe is down to no one and nothing" to "i trust angus mcdonald entirely" journey that taako takes in the span of roughly one in-fiction hour during lunar interlude reunion tour is so important to me. adventuring partners and friends who have saved his bacon more times than he can count? nah fuck em. organization that has protected him and given him a purpose and fresh start? new stone of farspeech who dis. this nerdy ass boy detective? "angus i trust you implicitly and here's the 100% exact truth as we understand it"

#taako is such an enigma. he's sexy he's unknowable he doesn't give a shit he cares more than anyone in the world #his relationship with angus is soooooooooo. to me. #stuff #taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #taako #angus mcdonald #like also i know that taako says that first thing and then continues trusting magnus and merle and even barry kinda #but the fact that his verbal statements on trust just leap from point A to point B #within the span of about an hour maybe less and with like. NOT that much information gained in between statements #taako swift: i don't trust nobody and nobody trust me #taako 5 seconds later: o shit i forgot about boy detective. i trust 1 somebody

[egophiliac]

Have you drawn rollo? And if not I would love to see your take on the silly man especially with his new card out

the problem is the hat. THE HAT. I confess that I have been avoiding drawing him in any detail because of that stupid hat. so have some hatless Rolls:

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #glorious masquerade #normally i like drawing hats but i just. i cannot draw the holy dorito without it looking SO bad. i'm sorry. #neige's hat also sometimes gives me grief but at least if i screw that one up he doesn't look he's been kicked out of a packers game #how does he even keep it on his head. he must have a spine of titanium. #truly he is the posture prince

[radiance1]

Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.

Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.

He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.

Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.

He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.

Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.

---

Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.

They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.

He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.

He hated them.

He hated them so much.

The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.

It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.

It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.

It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.

A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.

It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.

When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.

He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.

And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.

It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.

He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.

So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.

Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.

He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.

But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.

He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.

There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.

His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.

'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.

The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.

He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.

In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.

He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.

A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.

They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.

And that's what he did.

It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.

His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.

It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.

A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.

Alfred Pennyworth.

It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.

He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.

Until Afred said we were going home.

We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.

Home.

Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.

Home.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp dc #dp dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp crossover #Danny has a scythe and isn't afraid to use it on anyone who even breaths wrong in Alfred's presence. #He also doesn't like meeting other people so he just turns invisible #So you probably wouldn't even know what killed you tbh. #Will Danny be brought out of his shell by the combined efforts of the batfamily? #Probably #Alfred saw a child in an alleyway while on vacation and pulled a Bruce Wayne. #Danny wants to be a butler because Alfred is a butler and he wants to be more like Alfred. #honestly I should be sleeping not making this idea #But MEH #Me tired so I slep now byebye gamers