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cheriepits · 1 year

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Your roommate vash au is so cute!! He would be the sweetest boy to live with, I’m imagining him constantly offering you his clothes now he realises how it makes you feel after the sweater fiasco…

Oh, absolutely.

ao3. [part 1.] part 2. coming home to you is a pilgrimage. [part 3a, 3b.]

Roommate!Vash who gives you his favorite pullover during movie night while you huddle up next to Meryl on the couch, the boys taking up the floor—all long limbs and soft bickering.

“Your foot stinks,” Wolfwood deadpans.

“That’s your breath,” Vash quips, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Shh!” comes from both you and Meryl. Sorry, Vash mouths, twisting behind him to rest his hand on your calf, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. You bite into the plush fabric of his pullover when he turns away, taking his hand with him.

Roommate!Vash whose fingers skim over your hips when he helps you out of the shirt you borrowed, an extra large tee over your outfit that says “Someone from España Loves Me”—a “failed” gag gift (because he really does love me, Vash delivers earnestly) from Nicholas when he walked the Camino de Santiago last spring.

Specks of semolina fall off the front as he lifts the shirt above your head and slides it down your arms. He stops at your hands, surprising you with how he tugs off the tacky dough from your fingers and creases the red Love Me letters in the process.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, his amusement coming through, “I’m used to messy kids.”

You can feel the thundering of your pulse point as he concentrates on his task, the few seconds of his ministrations feeling both too long and too quick for what it was. You may have let out something high-pitched and unintelligible, but not even a small quirk of his lips shows that he’s heard it.

“There,” his tone is smug. “You’re pasta-free.”

He smiles so easily at you every time.

When roommate!Vash finds out that the straps of your apron broke, he goes back to his room to fetch an old volunteering shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“You can get anything on them. Acrylic, oil...the blood of your enemies,” he says slyly. You roll your eyes as you take the clothes from his grasp, and without thinking twice, you lean up to brush your lips against his cheek.

“Thank you, Vash,” you say softly, touch light against his jaw.

Roommate!Vash catches you painting one day after coming home early for once. A thick, grey cloud had hovered over him, plagued by the comments his attending had been making all day, the patient interview that he felt he failed, and the general feeling of incompetence he’s been having during this rotation. Not to mention the weight of today in general…

He recognizes the first few notes of the song you’re playing, anticipating the lyrics in his head when—

The setting sun casts an orange glow on your meadow, the red field of flowers livened by its warmth. You have your leg propped on the stool, neck craned towards the canvas and holding a fine tip to the surface. He feels his brain rewire watching your profile, the relaxed lines of your body against the seafront view, next to Arno, his child—

Then he sees it. Lighthanded brush strokes, like smoke, like river. Ink lines that curve high along your thigh and disappear beneath the the bunched hem of his shirt and—

“Fuck, are those doughnuts?” he exhales in disbelief.

“Yes?” you respond cautiously, struck by the slackening of his jaw and his wide-eyed gaze. “I got us some.”

Then you’re walking over wearing only his shirt with a half-dozen box in hand, fingers sickly-sweet from strawberry jam. Vash looks at the box, then the sugar on your hand, then your legs, and back.

“Where are your pants?” he asks dumbly.

“Your sweats were too big so I put them on your bed,” you shrug. “This shirt is very comfy, though,” you say, shifting on your feet. “Hey, are you alright?”

Vash had buried face in his hands, the frames of his glasses digging uncomfortably into his sockets. My roommate’s an angel, he groans.

A literal being sent from heavenohgodI’mnotgonnasurviveI’mnogonnasurvive.

When you finally pry apart his hands and look up at him with that soft gaze yours, asking, Did you have a bad day? Vash relaxes into your grip and thinks, you undo me so easily every time.

[ Bonus:

Nai glares at the corner of his entryway. His clothes haven’t arrived, as he’d asked. Then, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting the door behind him, he stalks towards the living room and sets down his pizza box on the coffee table. It’s not his usual choice, but he was in their old neighborhood for once. The pizza place was Vash’s favorite, and today of all days, he especially misses his brother.

He presses the play button on his speakers before he enters the shower, letting the water wash away some of the tensions of the day. Nai leisurely rolls his neck, moaning softly under his breath, and goes through the rest of his bath with some needed mindfulness.

Ludions was one of the earliest pieces Rem taught them, elementary to both him and Vash, really, but oh, how they delighted with the last poem about the obese cat Potasson.

“Mom, I’d like one, too,” Vash asked as a child, fingers resting against the keys. Eyes alight with laughter, their mother had responded, “Alright, but perhaps not the big kind.”

With a towel slung low on his hips, Nai palms at his face with both hands. There’s something that Vash gave him shoved in the depths of his drawer. He knew he should have burned it when he had the chance, but he couldn’t make himself do so. It was his baby brother’s gift after all.

Steeling himself, Nai snatches the white tee underneath his pile of socks and dons it along with a pair of joggers. His surly expression reflects back at him and his eyes inevitably rove over the words generously streched across his chest:

small tits, big heart.

He snorts once before snapping a picture, sending it to Vash. Hope you’re doing okay today. Call me when you get the chance.

On the top of his screen is the perpetual notification of the day.

Tesla. ]

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overseer-picard · 2 years

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Okay, we are going to talk about uniforms here for a second because I have some questions and concerns.

"First Contact" introduced the snazzy blue-ish-gray and black uniforms that were then implemented on the later seasons of DS9. They look fantastic and utilize things like zippers and general functionality (things the old TNG uniforms did not).

Side note regarding TNG's main uniforms:

We know that Gene Roddenberry had a seething hatred for zippers (and understanding dramatic storytelling) and they tried to hide the zippers by putting extra fabric over them and placing them down the back so, in the universe of Star Trek, where these secret zippers technically don't exist, are we to assume that these uniforms are... are... PULLOVERS? Let that thought haunt and vex you.

Okay, back to the matter at hand,

So we have the basic look of the jacket that everyone wears.

Look at those beautiful zippers down the front where they are supposed to be. Love the banded cuffs that match the field colors.

Then we have this cute little number, the "captain's variant", much like Picard's strange velvet jackets in later seasons of TNG. I actually love this more than the basic jacket and wish all the crew could wear it.

Then we have our base layer, the zippidy turtlely neck in the various red, teal, and gold field colors.

And then we have the suns out guns out blue undershirt (nice 😏).

(Look at Data back there lookin like a lil patchwork quilt)

So, here's my question: the basic jacket and the captain's variant vest are seemingly two separate outfits, right? So why does Captain Benjamin Prophet Sisko wear EVERYTHING AT THE SAME TIME? Jacket, variant vest, turtlely neck, undershirt.

Is he cold?? Is it a practicality thing where he peels off layers as various space station juices get on him throughout the day? Does he like looking extra large for extortion activities? Does he think the vest is like a waistcoat that goes with a three piece suit? Does he want extra layers to hide snacks in or maybe deflect wayward blades? I don't know. But he still looks great so that's all that matters.

#star trek #ds9 #first contact #uniform discussion #benjamin sisko #captain picard

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supertanya-mohair-sweaters · 2 years

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Excited to share the latest addition to my #etsy shop: SuperTanya blue ribbed wool sweater thick warm handmade ski pullover - ready to ship - L - XL (LARGE - EXTRA Large) size #blue #xl #yes #handknitsweater #handknittedsweater #sweatersupertany https://etsy.me/3z3hRNM https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj_EiYHssjj/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#etsy #blue #xl #yes #handknitsweater #handknittedsweater #sweatersupertany

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translations-by-aiimee · 1 year

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Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 14

Original Title: 论救错反派��下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is the product of my limited knowledge of Chinese characters as I attempt to learn the language. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Buy me a Ko-fi ☕

Chapter 14 - Hand-held Comb

With the sound of cicadas, the weather was getting hotter, and before they knew it, it was already summer.

The wolf-hair pen fell on the white rice paper, and the delicate handwriting was writing out medical records, without any scribbles. From the earliest wound treatment to drug detoxification to dredging the meridians three months ago, and reviving the qi region, each treatment step and each medication plan were written in detail and bound into a book for future medical records to refer to.

Yue Wuhuan's psychological state, however, Song Qingshi didn't know how to write. He hesitated for a while and finally just wrote a few strokes to outline the medical case. Comparing before and after, it seemed that there was a trend of improvement.

Yue Wuhuan's schedule had become regular and busy.

He found an unused sword in the treasury, got up before dawn and practiced for two hours. Then, he waited for Song Qingshi to freshen up and read books with him for a couple hours to learn medical knowledge and in the afternoon, study anatomy or try to formulate medicine and alchemy together. In the evening, after dealing with the internal affairs of Medicine King's Valley, he meditated and practiced cultivation for two hours.

A cultivator's physique does not require much sleep, so he was reluctant to waste time and only slept for one or two hours a day. If not for Song Qingshi's insistence on eating together, he would even want to replace his food with a grain-substituting pill.

Song Qingshi never imagined that in this life, he would still have to persuade others to study at a leisurely pace.

Yue Wuhuan said that he had wasted too much time and was only making the best use of his time.

Because of his previous core-building experience and improved aptitude, he quickly returned to the sixth level of qi training, and a new cultivation level was just around the corner.

Song Qingshi looked at the improving physical condition in the medical records and let him go.

. . .

With the arrival of summer, Song Qingshi discovered the benefits of cool silk. He loved to wear silk pajamas in the original world, and he liked to fall asleep in the soft and natural touch of silk, a little luxury in his humble life. The immortal world's cool silk was several grades better than the mortal silk. When it was stuck to his body, it was as light as nothing, slightly cool and moist, sweeping away all the heat.

He asked the medicine servant to purchase several sheets of plain cool silk to make into modern two-piece pyjamas. Wearing a wide, large pullover, a long-sleeved T-shirt with a large neckline and loose pants with laces every day, he slept very comfortably.

He tried to give Yue Wuhuan the modified pyjamas.

Yue Wuhuan looked at the pyjamas on him for a long while, refused, and then went for an extra hour of sword practice.

Song Qingshi still wanted to cut his hair off. He was not used to men with such long hair. He stayed at home every day and didn't want to waste time combing his hair. He took the scissors and gestured at the mirror for a long time wanting to do it. Yue Wuhuan came in to see. He immediately snatched his scissors and lost his temper for the first time: "What is Master trying to do?!"

After learning the reason, he gave Song Qingshi a good lesson.

"Your body and hair are precious. In the eyes of the world, there are only three situations in which a man will cut off his hair." Yue Wuhuan could hardly control his anger, and his voice was very stern, "One is a monk, the other is a sinner, and the third is an arrogant person. Which one does Master want to be?"

Song Qingshi shook his head wildly: "I don't want to be any of them, but I think my hair is too brittle and it's troublesome to comb it."

"Let me try," Yue Wuhuan heaved a sigh of relief after learning the reason. He took the fragrant wood comb on the mirror stand, poured some orchid ointment into the palm of his hand, and carefully tidied his fine hair. He fixed it into a long thin braid, then all pulled up into a bun, and then put on a hair crown made of white jade, and finally, fondly let go of his hand, "Is this good?"

"Very good, your hands are really skillful," Song Qingshi looked at the hair that was combed many times neater than his own, and asked after complimenting, "Wuhuan, should I find a maid who combs my hair? "

Yue Wuhuan's hand holding the comb paused. He controlled the faint evil thoughts bubbling up, and asked softly: "Master. . . you don't like me doing your hair? Do you want someone else to do it?"

Song Qingshi immediately denied it: "I'm afraid that you're too overqualified for a job like this."

Yue Wuhuan turned around and smiled: "Wuhuan has received great kindness from Master. There is nothing to repay you, and it's difficult to sleep at night. If I can do some small things for Master, it'll make me feel much more peaceful. . ."

When Song Qingshi heard that doing this would make him feel better, he agreed decisively: "If you don't find it troublesome, I will leave my hair to you."

Yue Wuhuan gently combed his sideburn hair for him and responded with a smile.

When he was young, he once saw his elder brother brushing the crown princess's hair, with only tenderness and care.

At that time, he admired his elder brother, who was the number one general in the army, and he didn't understand why he did such boring things, but his elder brother told him cheerfully, "I've been carrying a hand-comb for a long time, but I haven't touched my own hair since my previous relationship. Little Wuhuan, when you grow up and meet someone you like, you will understand the fun of it."

At that time, he didn't understand.

Now, he understands the taste of letting the threads of love slip through his fingers and tantalize his heartstrings.

He placed the fragrant wood comb on his lips and kissed lightly.

If I can hold your hair for the rest of my life, can I avoid ever having to reincarnate?

. . .

Song Qingshi had solved all their troubles and they were very happy.

He suddenly remembered something, and asked Yue Wuhuan: "In two days, do you want to accompany me to Le City? I ordered a batch of experimental equipment from Tianji Pavilion. The items are expensive and complex. Tianji Pavilion is afraid there's a mistake so I have to go personally to explain the situation. And. . . I heard that Le City is rich in food and wine, and the dance music in the Immortal Dance House is also excellent. Do you want to see it together?"

He was put into the book by the system administration for some time now. He was busy treating illnesses every day, and he didn't take a serious look at the appearance of the immortal world. Although the memory of the original body is constantly fused with him, he always felt that many things were confusing with many shortcomings.

Recently, he had also belatedly realized that he already had a healthy body and a long life span, so he didn’t need to worry about running out of time like in the old world, and race against time to study, lest he be paralyzed on the bed at some point and won’t be able to get up again or save himself.

Some say that such a life is boring. . .

Now, he can spare a little free time and use it to feel the interesting life of a normal person.

He could eat the food that the doctors didn't allow before, do exercise that the doctors forbade, and even taste wine and study why so many people are fascinated with it.

Although he didn't know if he would like these things, he had to try them to know the answer.

Song Qingshi thought about his new life that lay ahead of him, a little excited and looking forward to it.

Le City's invitation is the beginning. On the one hand, he wants Yue Wuhuan to go out to relax, and not to stay with him so thoroughly and become a hermit. On the other hand, he was also worried that he would have communication struggles with strangers. The pavilion couldn't understand medical terminology and he couldn't understand the production requirements. It would be much more convenient for Yue Wuhuan to help him communicate.

Yue Wuhuan thought for a moment and agreed.

On the day of departure, Yue Wuhuan put on a headscarf and covered his appearance with a long black veil.

Song Qingshi was puzzled: "Are you afraid of getting sunburned?"

Yue Wuhuan laughed and said, "Master will understand later."

Song Qingshi thought about it and understood that Wuhuan must be so beautiful because he was afraid of lechers. Song Qingshi immediately took all the magic weapons and poisons with him and asked him to follow him closely when he went out. He also made a simple anti-poisoning potion and gave it to Yue Wuhuan, telling him that the spray would make the perverts blind for at least half a month. Yue Wuhuan happily accepted it and put it together with other medicinal powders he had prepared.

The two of them travelled to Le City by immortal beast.

Le City was the nearest big city to Medicine King's Valley, built around the river, with convenient transportation, so the market was bustling with everything that one expects to find, and there were countless cultivators coming and going.

Song Qingshi felt like a newcomer who had just entered the city, and his eyes were not good enough. What were the golden fruit dew and the light blue drink that the immortal woman was selling in the teahouse? He had to try them! What was the strange fruit on the fruit stand? He had to buy and study it! The singing paper men made by the peddler were really interesting. The beauties in the flower house dressed as the flying dancers in the murals, attracting guests from the air, and throwing winks at him. He watched for a long time and couldn't help but to reach over and explore. . .

Is such a vulgar woman worth caring about?

Yue Wuhuan waited and waited until he couldn't bear it anymore, and finally snapped his head back and asked, "Are they good-looking?"

Song Qingshi withdrew his divine thoughts, and quietly replied: "This girl has a yellow spot in her eyes, maybe there is something wrong with her gallbladder."

Yue Wuhuan: "???"

What kind of obsession does Master have with eyes?

The author has something to say: If Wuhuan hadn't stopped him, Top Student Song would probably be the first protagonist in the history of Jinjiang to cut his hair short and wear a t-shirt.

#mistakenly saving the villain translation #mistakenly saving the villain #bl novel #chinese novel #english translation #chinese bl #danmei #danmei novel #yaoi #yaoi novel #song qingshi #yue wuhuan

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starkraivennemad · 7 months

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The Smartest Man

I walk into the restaurant and nod to the owner, who always greets me when he knows I will be there. I nod in greeting and look around as I remove my coat.

“Mister Lestrade arrived five minutes ago. He is at your usual table, sir.” Davek informs me quietly as takes my coat. After learning the hard way that I am allergic to Siamese cats, he knows to bag it and hang it away from everyone else’s. “I have also left your second usual open.”

“Thank you, Davek.” I accept the information and head in.

My usual table was is just off the wall, near the back exit, but has very little foot traffic. It is more out in the open where I can casually view all around me and is easier for my security to get to me, and get me out, if necessary. My second usual table is a semi-private booth against the wall. It added a whopping forty extra seconds if extraction became necessary, but was better suited for private conversations. That Davek, a very observant man in his own right, sat Lestrade there was telling.

Like me, Gregory does not like having his back to the door, so I appreciate that he has left my preferred seat for me and though his back is to me, I easily spot him. His silver hair gleams even in the semi-dimmed lighting for dinner. The burgundy pullover he wears is finely made and fits him well. It’s better than what he usually wears, the ill- fitting, but comfortable suits for work. I know that means he went home early from work and changed clothes, but then I note his body language. Slouched, elbows on table as his hands fiddle with the empty highball glass before him. The water glass is untouched and he has only been here five minutes? Something has happened.

That is why Davek left the booth available.

“Good evening, Gregory.” I tap him lightly on the shoulder and gesture to the booth. “I see by your face we would be better off sitting there. Leave the glass, they will bring a fresh one.”

“Good evening, Mycroft.” Gregory echoes as he rises, his face grateful as he sees the booth. “Thank you.”

I order drinks and appetizers with the server as Gregory follows me to the table.

I idly note as my security acknowledges the change among themselves, then forget them as I focus on what is important – Gregory and what ever has happened to have him looking as he does.

It hurts me to see the dejection that sours his whole being. I live for his smile, especially when I imagine it is directed at me, but know better. I want nothing more than to pull him into my arms, hold him and tell him whatever it is, I will make it right for him. Alas, I am in love with a married man and keep those feelings to myself. I treasure the friendship that we have forged from our former animosities in the decade of knowing each other. I do not have anyone else outside of my brother, I can call such, I will not risk losing it and have nothing with him.

He accepts his new drink as I receive my Macallan when they arrive. I then know why he looks as he does. He lifts the bourbon with his left hand. A left hand with a tan line that tells of the ring that was there a week ago when I saw him last.

He sees my eyes stray to his hand and gives a mocking salute with it. “You’re the smartest person I know. Tell me.”

His not soon enough to be ex-wife Amelia was a serial philanderess, at least in the last three of their six-year marriage. Greg only knows of three affairs, but my brother and I deduced a total of five lovers. Over the holidays, Sherlock in his usual unthinking manner, tactlessly informed Gregory of the current lover, the PE teacher, an ongoing affair of four months.

“The PE teacher was the straw. The camel has filed for divorce at last.” I say sardonically as I also raise my glass and take a sip. I must to give me a moment to hide the smile that wants to break forth.

“Like I said smartest man I know.” Greg takes a large sip then pushes his glass away as he looks at me. The sadness in his eyes is unbearable. “So perhaps you can tell me, why am I so hard to love and be faithful to?”

“Oh Gregory! Don’t you dare take what that woman has done as a failure of yourself. ” I unthinkingly grab the hand that starts to reach for the drink again and hold it. “You gave her far more chances than she ever deserved. You loved her and married her with the full and correct expectation of receiving what you gave her - faithfulness and loyalty.” I realize I am holding his hand and I interlock our fingers when I feel him start to pull away, holding him in place as I continue. “She thought she had what it took to be married to a cop and did not. That is not her fault – it is not an easy thing. However, instead of being up front with it and neatly breaking away, she did…what she did…multiple times.”

Greg snorts derisively at that. I am secretly ecstatic when uses his other hand to take his glass and drink. I feel his fingers grasp mine in search of the comfort, he does not know how to - or if he can - ask me for, I give it to him.

“I promise you this: someday you and I will be at dinner and we will look back on this day and laugh. We will laugh because by then you will be in love with and be loved by someone who will cherish you and understand the joys, the long hours and the perils what you do, but will never hold it against you.”

Greg smiles for the first time that evening. It is a watery, but honest one. I squeeze the hand I hold once and let it go when he slowly – is it my imagination that it is reluctantly? – pulls it away knowing it is not something the Iceman would normally do. I can tell he appreciates it, and that makes me happy. “You can promise that?”

I know I am a cold man. I have curated this untouchable Iceman image with care. It protects me from everything, but my own heart which is unknowingly in the keeping of the man whose hand I just held. The man who has somehow broken through the many ice walls I surround myself with.

“You are a man who can be loved. Who deserves to be loved, Gregory.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” I look at his left hand again and curiosity gets the best of me. “Forgive me, but what did you do with your ring?”

Greg reaches for his water goblet and takes several large gulps as his face turns to crimson. This is a bit not good.

“Dear lord man, what did you do?”

Greg shakes his head in denial, but he is also holding his stomach trying not to laugh.

“You did not!” I gasp at the unexpectedness of it as the answer comes to me.

“Yes, I did.” Gregory outright laughs. “It was a shite marriage; it seemed a fitting burial of it. Or rather it will be - eventually.”

He is laughing, that also makes me quietly happy that I can give this to him.

I bring a serviette to my lips at the most ungracious snort that escapes and try to stifle my own urge to laugh. He makes me, ME, laugh – out loud. It is what he gives to me and one of the many reasons I love him.

As much hope as I now have, I fully understand this is not the right time to profess my love for him. He needs time. That I can give him and mentally send a wish out to Universe that when he is ready, I am the one he chooses next.

“How did you know I…?” Gregory lets a cheeky giggle escape.

I wink smiling, “I am the smartest person you know.”

#fictober23 #bbc sherlock #mystrade

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thestrangest-doll-inthe-valley · 2 years

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Soft!Steve Stories

For @multidimensional-wavelength

Chapter 1: Eddie’s Sweater and Steve’s ‘small talk’

Eddie wanted to be mad. He really did. He wanted to be able to go at the issue with the same feral rage that he went after the popular kids with. It was a repeat issue and he was tired of it, but you’d never know that since, as stated, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad. What was he so mad about? It was his favorite Metallica hoodie. It was a 2X/extra extra large and it was from the first and only Metallica concert he ever managed to go to and meant a lot to him because his Uncle Wayne paid for everything and went with him even though he claimed he was getting too old for that kind of thing. It was the special edition “Ride the Lightning” pullover blue and purple tie dye which made it even more special because they made a limited amount. This was the sweater that constantly went missing every time he wasn’t wearing it. The first couple of times that he ‘lost’ it, he genuinely hadn’t known what happened. It wasn’t until it became a repeat issue and he started really paying attention that he realized what was happening.

Tonight was a perfect example of the problem. He was at Steve’s house and they had just cleaned up after some incredible climaxing (or cry-maxing in Steve’s case- god, he was so damn precious) when Eddie saw it happen. Steve tossed him his underwear and tee, the usual sleep attire, and then put on his own underwear. That wasn’t the problem. It was the fact that Steve then snatched the hoodie as quickly as he could while still seeming casual and nonchalant and pulled it on. It was the sight of his supposedly tough and preppy fiancé being absolutely drowned in a hoodie that astronomically larger than himself- it was practically a sleeping bag for the former jock if he tucked his knees to his chest- and making sweater paws with the sleeves that he then raised to his face to take a deep inhale. And like clockwork, Eddie laid back in the bed and Steve crawled up the bed to flop on top of him with a soft trill escaping as he settled.

How the hell was Eddie supposed to lecture the boy when he was being so damn cute?!

“Hmmm,” Eddie hummed.

“What’s it, Eds?” Steve murmured, sounding quite young and fragile. It’s what Eddie referred to as his boyfriend’s ‘small talk’ which reminded him of the girls he used to date that did the pouty, childish baby voice (personally, he thought it made them sound dumb) to soften him up- it worked but not as well as Steve’s (the moment the brunette talked like that, it was all over).

“Just thinkin’,” Eddie vaguely answered, voice still a bit husky from their previous adulterated activities.

“‘Bout wha’?” Steve wondered, satisfying his oral fixation by lightly nibbling on the cuff of the sleeve covering his hand.

“How you need to stop chewing on my hoodie’s sleeves before I forcefully switch it to sucking on something more satisfying for one. In case it isn’t obvious, you’re laying on that something,” Eddie evenly but sternly responded as he gently thrust his pelvis up a couple times to illustrate his meaning. “But also the fact that I now know where my hoodie keeps disappearing to.”

“Eds! I jus’ gots it!” Steve whined, thinking his fiancé was going to take it back already.

“Yeah, this time,” Eddie qualified, running his fingers through the tousled, silky soft chocolate locks. “But I’ve noticed that every time we’re together it ends up going wherever you’re going… And that’s a bit of a problem, Sweetheart.”

“How?!” Steve demanded, realizing the pout and force in his tone was undermined by his sub space as Eddie fought against a grin and a coo.

“Because that’s my favorite hoodie and it can’t be replaced if something happens,” Eddie spelled out for his poor, hazy partner as he caressed the boy’s freckled cheek. “I like wearing it a lot, but it seems you do too.”

“Need it, Ebby,” Steve sadly murmured around the sleeve cuff in his mouth.

“Oh? Is that so, Kitten?” Eddie softly challenged as Steve’s other hand started stimming by methodically and repeatedly resituating the parts of the shirt over the metalhead’s stomach. That was how Steve got the nickname of Kitten- the stimming gesture reminded Eddie of a nursing kitten. “Why do you need it?”

“Smelly, Ebby,” Steve answered in a tone that stated how dumb he thought the question was.

“If it smells so bad, then give it back so I can wash it,” The musician playfully challenged despite knowing what Steve actually meant.

“Noooo!” The former jock cried, even producing tears at the very thought that his favorite smell and thing to wear was going to be taken away. He felt his face heat up as he realized he was crying over a hoodie because he felt vulnerable and needy.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Babygirl,” Eddie soothed, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears while he held his partner’s face. “Alpha was only teasing, Honey. It’s okay. Alpha loves it when you wear his hoodie. He just would like to wear it too. What if I give you a different hoodie, fresh out of the closet?”

“No! Please, ‘m be good, promise!” Steve begged, his nose starting to get stuffy as he hiccuped through the cascading tears. “‘M sorry, Ebby!”

“Oh, Sweetie,” Eddie softly sighed, pulling Steve closer to tuck the brunette’s head under his chin. “You’re good, Sweetheart. You’re very, very good. It’s not a punishment. I just really love that hoodie because it’s from the only concert I ever went to and my uncle paid for that hoodie so it’s extra special and I get worried and a little sad when I don’t wear it very often…”

Instead of responding, Steve pulled away to sit on his heels between Eddie’s legs and pulled the hoodie off before grabbing his oversized baby pink crew neck sweater on. He handed the Metallica hoodie back with the same amount of care that one might move a porcelain doll with loose joints. Once that was done, he shifted to sit on his butt and hug his knees to his chest. It was colder and lonelier in his own sweater. It didn’t smell like his fiancé and it didn’t have the same warmth but he wasn’t going to risk ruining something so special to his future husband nor would he intentionally withhold such a precious, memory laden item.

At the same time, his pink crew neck didn’t have a hood that would keep his neck warm or give him somewhere to hide when he was feeling shy. The sweater also wasn’t nearly as big on him as the hoodie even though it was still more than one size too big for Steve. On top of all that, there was the point he admitted to Eddie- the stupid pink sweater didn’t smell like the Dungeon Master. There wasn’t a nose tickling, heavy scent of weed, there was no cheap musty forest scented cologne, no smell of motor oil or windshield wiper fluid, or even the strong surf scented deodorant that somewhat discolored the inside of the hoodie’s armpits. His sweater just smelled like overpriced alcohol based men’s Chanel, clean cotton laundry soap and lavender dryer sheets. He could smell all of that just by existing in his own house and wearing his own clothes. But he couldn’t benefit from the way his partner’s scent soothed his anxiety, kept him warm and cozy, made him feel loved and safe, nor could he get the comforting knowledge that there was no way Eddie wouldn’t come back. Eddie had to come back even if it was just for the sentimental hoodie. Without that hoodie, Steve felt like there was no guarantee that Eddie would ever come back. The rings didn’t hold any weight- Eddie worked in a pawn shop on the side and told Steve just how many jilted lovers and divorcées would pawn the rings for cash and either skip town or treat themselves. That knowledge left Steve feeling just as insecure and anxiously attached as when they first started dating. The rings meant very little compared to that hoodie.

“Come here, Baby,” Eddie patiently and lovingly repeated for the tenth time, knowing Steve had receded into his own head and needed plenty of patience and gentleness. When Steve still didn’t even look at him, Eddie scooched down the bed to sit cross-legged in front of His fiance. Without a word, Eddie gently tugged Steve’s crew neck up and continued to do so even as Steve slowly shifted and looked at him in confusion.

“Arms up, Babygirl,” Eddie softly instructed. It took a couple extra minutes, but the brunette slowly acquiesced. It wasn’t until his sweater was fully off and Eddie was trying to get a comfortable hold on the hoodie to slide it over his petite yet fit boyfriend’s form that Steve backed away with an anxious whine escaping. “None of that now, Baby Bunny. Let Alpha take care of you.”

Steve shook his head as the tears came back and his mouth contorted into a heartbroken frown. He didn’t want it. If this was Eddie’s way of saying the end was near, he didn’t want to get comfortable only to be single, cold, and lonely. He gently but forcefully shoved Eddie’s attempt to make him wear the hoodie away over and over and over again until Eddie finally understood. He set the hoodie aside and pulled Steve into his lap, allowing the brunette to resume his fetal position and cry it out.

“In the biblical sense and sensibility, Let me know you. I'll kiss that smile off your face just say when, Just say when,” Eddie softly sang (Scared to Death by HIM) in his gruff bass, pausing to press a couple forceful kisses to Steve’s temples and cheeks. “I'm not afraid to say "I love you" Any more than I used to be babe I am scared to death, To fall in love (with you). All these pick-up lines from hell, Icebreakers infernal, From a heart so black and blue- Only for you. Just say when again.”

Steve peered back up at his boyfriend, tears slowing as he took in the song he’d really connected to when Eddie started looking into music that they would both enjoy, something that met in the middle of their preferred genres.

“I'm not afraid to say, "I love you." Any more than I used to be, babe. I am scared to death. I am scared to death to fall in love with you. With you,” Eddie continued, headbutting Steve’s forehead with his own and locking eyes with his timid, sweet partner. “I'm not afraid to say, "I love you." Anymore than I used to be, babe. I am scared to death. I am scared to death to fall in love. I'm not afraid to admit I adore you, Any more than I was before babe I am scared to death, To fall in love with you, With you. With you. I'm scared to death. I'm scared to death. I'm scared to death. And you're sweet like poison…”

Steve let Eddie lean in to press their lips together in a soft, lingering kiss. He wanted so desperately to become a permanent fixture on Eddie’s body, to just curl up in the musician’s chest and meld below his ribcage and into his heart and lungs, to always feel and hear him breathe, his heartbeat, and be right there listening to every word and lyric, every melody and tic, every stutter. He shivered and forced them closer as he curled to duck his head under his lover’s chin. The tears came back as he told himself that just because Eddie sang pretty lyrics and held him after sex, it didn’t mean that he would stay forever. Maybe he wasn’t Eddie’s type or maybe he was too needy or maybe he just wasn’t worth the trouble…

“I love you, Steve Munson,” Eddie murmured with lips brushing Steve’s temple before they planted a proper kiss there as he rubbed his fiancé’s back and held him through the tears. He began to hum and that’s when he knew the song (I wouldn’t mind by He is We) that would make it click for Steve, “Merrily we fall out of line, out of line. I'd fall anywhere with you, I'm by your side. Swinging in the rain, humming melodies, We're not going anywhere until we freeze. I'm not afraid anymore, I'm not afraid. Forever is a long time, But I, I wouldn't mind spending it by your side…”

Steve wanted to be mad because Eddie knew what that song meant to him but here he was singing it with every intent to leave (or so Steve thought). To think, it all started from a stupid hoodie debacle about Steve being too needy and possessive (as far as Steve’s traumatized brain was concerned).

“Carefully we'll place for our destiny. You came and you took this heart and set it free. Every word you write and sing is so warm to me, So warm to me. I'm torn, I'm torn To be right where you are,” Eddie persisted, noting the slight relaxation of his boyfriend’s body. “I'm not afraid anymore, I'm not afraid. Forever is a long time, But I, I wouldn't mind spending it by your side. Tell me everyday I get to wake up to that smile, I wouldn't mind it at all. I wouldn't mind it at all…”

There was silence that made Steve look up at Eddie as he roughly wiped away the tears. Eddie looked at him with those big, honest puppy dogs eyes that watched him with such patience and adoration. It felt like an hour before Steve cracked once Eddie started caressing his face and headbutt him once again.

“You so know me. Pinch me gently. I can hardly breathe,” Steve sang, though he cringed at the sound of his stuffy voice as he sniffled harshly.

Eddie joined back in and encouraged his partner to keep singing with a gentle squeeze and a nuzzle of their noses, “Forever is a long, long time, But I, I wouldn't mind spending it by your side. Tell me everyday I get to wake up to that smile, I wouldn't mind it at all. I wouldn't mind it at all…”

Another pause as Steve searched to see if it was just a pity response to how pathetic the fallen jock was. He knew he was the epitome of “peaked in high school” and he wouldn’t blame Eddie for agreeing with that. Yet, no matter how hard he searched, there was no sign of disdain, mockery, or anything that could be construed as Eddie negatively judging him despite Steve crying in the man’s lap like a child that fell on the pavement for the first time.

“Do you understand now, Sweetheart?” Eddie questioned as he tipped Steve’s chin to force his boyfriend to look towards him. “I’m not going anywhere and the hoodie thing is not about me leaving you or not liking you or things you do or anything like that. It’s just about me wanting to wear it too, but you wanna know the truth?”

Steve trilled softly, a quiet confused sound.

“It looks way better on you,” Eddie confessed with a lopsided grin that made Steve’s heart falter. “Alpha loves seeing his pretty little Omega swimming in his hoodie like a soft little water lily lost at sea. And he really loves that everyone knows who that delicate little flower actually belongs to because it’s Alpha’s hoodie and it smells like him so there’s no confusion.”

“P’omise?” Steve hiccuped, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s palm.

“I promise, Little Flower,” Eddie responded very seriously. “Can Alpha put a scent back in his flower?”

Steve hesitated before nodding and was rewarded with being engulfed in his favorite comfort item. It didn’t stop there though. Eddie tugged off his boxer briefs and then his own and lifted Steve until he could shift around and toss the brunette so he was laying on his back with his head on the pillow. Steve looked both concerned and exhilarated by what likely was to happen next.

“I know Alpha already roughed up his delicate little blossom, but you just look so wilted and in need of some deep pollenation so that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Eddie explained, massaging up and down Steve’s bare thighs. “Are you ready to be my little Pillow Princess?”

Steve’s pupils dilated as he nodded shyly. As much as he wanted be a good partner and take care of Eddie the way he was used to doing with girls, he realized that his soon to be husband had a different set of needs as a sadomasochistic top and that he himself very much was happy to simply lie back and be “bred” by said dominating metalhead. So he laid back like a good Omega and accepted every little bit that his Alpha wanted to give and demanded that he take. Steve never thought he was a kinky person and the thought of calling Eddie Alpha to satisfy some verbal validation of his role in their relationship had seemed so gross and weird until the first time they had sex and suddenly it all clicked. Steve wanted learn what it meant to be part of the kinkier sexual community and he was loving what he’d learned so far. He discovered that he didn’t like anything more than handcuffs- too much restriction caused him to panic-, he loved fire and wax play (especially when Eddie used the scented wax), but what he loved most was just submitting to Eddie and actually being respected even if he said no to whatever the curly haired divergent pressed for. He was pulled from his appreciative thoughts as an orgasm built deep down in the bottom of his lungs until it built up so much that all he could do was compliment his partner with the sound.

“EBBY~!” Steve needily moaned as his tears were once again from a feeling of overwhelming pleasure rather than fears of abandonment.

Eddie couldn’t answer verbally at first, though he offered plenty of soothing touches and a big goofy grin at hearing his boyfriend’s small talk during such a pleasurable moment, “You did so wonderfully, Princess! I’m so so proud of you! And look! You even kept my hoodie clean! Such a good little Pillow Princess!”

“Ebby…” Steve needily whined once he was no longer full of his lover and being caressed.

“I know, I know, Honey Bunches,” Eddie softly sympathized as he went to grab the cleansing wipes to clean them both off with. “I need to clean us up so we can cuddle and smoke before we go to bed. I’m gonna give you a lovely little massage and make sure to tend to your sore spots too.”

Steve’s fears almost completely dissolved away as Eddie followed through on each step of his plan. First they cleaned up, then a movie was thrown on while they cuddled and passed the bowl, after the bowl was finished the musician gave his lover a nice massage while placing some tasteful love bites in various places, and once all sore spots were treated whether with salves or oils or just kisses, they were ready for bed. Eddie was the big spoon and Steve was the little spoon, their usual positioning. They were both about to drift off when Eddie heard it.

“Ebby… Love…Love Ebby,” Steve murmured, kissing the hand he held captive after kissing each ring. “Mine.”

“Yours. I love you too, Pretty Baby, my little blossom,” Eddie sleepily murmured back as he kissed Steve’s shoulder and neck as best he could. “You’re all mine.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #stranger things #alternate universe #steve harrington #writing inspiration #eddie munson #au #steddie #steve and eddie

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