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libraryofgage · 6 months

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Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

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Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

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Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

@hallucinatedjosten, @queenie-ofthe-void, @r0binscript, @jewellthebooknerd, @paintgonewrong, @vacantwatchers, @newagemyth, @gutterflower77, @just-a-tiny-void, @littlebluejane

@whenindoubtb72, @different-tale-student, @sharingisntkaren, @current-steddie-brainrot, @willim-billiam-byerson, @nuggies4life

@lostgurl-12, @anomalygal, @synonym-for-strange, @sani-86, @missmagillicuddy, @ilikechocolatemilkh, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @harringrieve, @awesomeimportantfan, @fredtheemoplant, @warlordess, @therealscarletpumpernickel, @gsvshsjsbs, @mightbeasleep, @mollymawkwrites

@lil-gremlin-things, @honorarybrit81, @sonny-ray-of-goth, @potent-idiocy, @fandomcartographer, @heartsong18, @lingeringmirth, @ko0kyco0kies, @ccomandercody, @spiderman-stilinski, @l0st-strawberry, @xxsky-shockxx, @stilesstickitinme, @boxsam, @thepansexualsnake, @37-screamingfrogs, @yourmom-isgay, @brainsteddielyrotted, @plasticcrotches, @hannahhook7744

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #good vibrations steddie #deaf steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #my writing

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ooffmlsorry · 5 months

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OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x reader headcanon #luffy x reader #law x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #ace x reader #sabo x reader

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destinysbounty · 16 days

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Ranking the DR kids based on how well they'd handle getting time-traveled to the beginning of the OG series:

Euphrasia - she lives in the Cloud Kingdom and has been with the Writers of Destiny long enough to have at least a functional understanding of everything that's happened and is supposed to happen. She would also be willing and capable of ensuring the original timeline remains preserved to the best of her ability. Any errors she makes are minor and get quickly resolved.

Arin - is a massive nerd with a near encyclopedic knowledge of the ninjas' pasts, but even he doesn't know everything. He'd probably drop a bunch of lore/spoilers purely on accident and feel really anxious/awkward about it afterwards. This does not stop him from accidentally dropping spoilers in the future, though. As excited as he is to be trained by Master Wu himself, seeing Lloyd as a twerpy little brat is more than a little disturbing and he's not sure he likes this. At one point he realizes his parents are still alive/present in this point in time and has an emotional crisis about whether or not to visit them. Eventually decides that if he can use his knowledge to fix the past and perhaps prevent all sorts of bad things from ever happening, then he should go for it. But he's also constantly second-guessing himself and questioning what changes will "fix" the past and what changes will absolutely destroy everything.

Sora - only kind of pays attention to Arin's ninja fan rants, and also isn't Ninjagian and therefore has no basis of understanding for their history, so she has a very incomplete understanding of things. Why does Zane look human? She is having so much stress over whether or not she can preserve the original timeline because she really loves her life as it is now, and is scared that if she changes too much then everything she currently has will be torn from her. But if she doesn't know how things originally happened, how can she make sure she's not changing too much? Needless to say Sora would have such a bad time and is seriously regretting not paying more attention to Arin.

Wyldfyre - I don't even need to explain this one. You all know exactly what would happen.

#unstoppable force (my desire to write a dr time travel au) vs immovable object (my desire to lay in bed and read everyone elses instead)#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #destiny post

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moon-rivr · 7 months

Text

forbidden

pairing: brother’s best friend miguel x fem reader

warnings: reader and miguel don’t rly get along, masturbation (f)

author’s note: thank you for all the love on el arreglo and all the other fics <33 hope you all enjoy this one :D

You were running around the house with a My Little Pony Rarity doll in hand, stopping only when you heard your name coming from your brother's room. "I just don't get why your little sister has to join us every time we're playing," you heard your brother's best friend's voice coming through the door, his tone clipped and annoyed. "C'mon Miguel, you know she doesn't have any friends. Can't you try to be nice to her?" Your brother replied, his voice hushed as he spoke. You gripped the figure in your hands as your knuckles started to turn white, feeling angry for thinking that they wanted to be friends, for being seen as nothing more than a charity case. "Fine, but that doesn't mean I have to like that little twerp."

Even though a decade had passed since you overheard that conversation, you and Miguel had never really gotten along after that. Nothing more than just the cordial "hello" and the acknowledgment of each other's existence, just enough out of respect to not make things awkward for your brother. You weren't sure what you did to make Miguel so pestered by your presence, but you'd given up on trying to figure that out. He regarded your friends and the previous partners that you brought home with the same disapproving scowl he reserved just for you.

"I need to talk to you after class," your professor spoke up, snapping you out of your thoughts as you packed your laptop inside your backpack. As you put your physics textbook away, you couldn't help but worry about what he could possibly have to say. Sure, you hadn't done so well in the past.. couple tests but your grade couldn't be that bad, right? "You have a twenty in my class. I'm letting you retake the assessments and assignments you got a failing grade in but I would strongly suggest that you get a tutor," your professor told you once you walked over to his desk, putting his glasses down. Even though you felt incredibly grateful that your professor was giving you a second chance with these assignments, you still couldn't help but feel embarrassed about your grade. "Thank you, I will," you mumbled, walking out of the class as you racked your brain for anyone who would be up for tutoring.

You got back to the apartment you shared with your brother, walking into his room and throwing yourself on his bed. "I know knocking's an outdated concept, but can we bring it back?" Your brother said, not bothering to look up from his computer monitor as you rolled your eyes. "I'm having a crisis, I don't have time for knocking. Do you know where I could find a physics tutor quick?" You replied, looking from the mattress over where he was sitting. You watched as he nibbled on his bottom lip, a tick that he had whenever it was something you wouldn't like. His response, however, wasn't something you were expecting and just the thought was making you want to gauge your eyes out.

"Miguel actually took that class last semester. He got the highest grade in the class."

"Do you think you could ask him for me?"

"Why can't you ask?"

"I just think he'll respond better if it's coming from you, his best friend and all. Please."

However, even with your begging, your brother refused to help you since he thought you should ask him yourself. What a load of bullshit. You were too proud to put your ego aside and ask Miguel for help, so you resorted to seeking a tutor through a study group. Your tutor wasn't exactly the best person to work with, given the fact that he had struggled with the subject last semester and was only doing this study group for extra credit. Your grades weren't increasing in the slightest and you found yourself staying late at the library to study.

You didn't realize you fell asleep until you heard some knocking on the table, hastily wiping away the drool at the corner of your mouth. You rubbed your eyes, looking up to see Miguel staring at you. "What time is it?" You asked, stretching your arms as you tried to get the blood flowing again. "Seven. Your brother's worried since you haven't been at the dorm at all today," he replied, sitting on the opposite side of the table as he picked up your textbook. "You're struggling with physics? You should've asked me for help," he said after a while, putting your textbook back down as he looked at you. "I actually have someone else tutoring me," you replied with a small shrug, still not willing to admit defeat.

Miguel shook his head as he scoffed, folding his arms. "Se ve que está haciendo buen trabajo. That's why you're overcompensating for his bad teaching?" He remarked, letting out a dry chuckle. (you can tell he's doing a good job) You were about to say something else but he stopped you when he started to speak again. "Para de actuar como una pendeja y deja que te ayude," he said, much to your surprise that he was offering to help. (stop acting like a dumbass and let me help you) Even though you needed his help desperately, you weren't gonna let him call you a dumbass. "Aqui el pendejo sos vos si crees que hablandome asi te voy a recibir ayuda," you remarked, watching a small smirk form on his face. (the dumbass here is you if you think i'm receiving your help with you talking to me like that) "Fine, sorry. Pero yo te puedo ayudar mas que ese idiota," he offered as a rebuttal, leaning against the table slightly. (but i can help you more than that idiot) "Ay okay. Tampoco te pongas a rogar, Miguelito." (don't start to beg)

Which is how you found yourself waiting in the library for Miguel to arrive, tapping on the table with your pen. Your leg shook as five minutes turned to ten, soon enough to fifteen. You rubbed your eyes, packing up your stuff in your bag when Miguel arrived at the table. "Nice of you to show up," you mumbled, taking your stuff out of your bag as you saw him roll his eyes from the corner of your eye. "My time doesn't revolve around you," he responded, taking out his own textbook. "It may not revolve around me but you could at least bother showing up on time," you replied, your book slamming on the desk as you took it out of your backpack. "Vamos a pelear o a estudiar, niñita?" He asked, arching a brow as he opened up the book. (are we going to fight or study little girl?) "I don't see why we can't do both."

"So what do you need help with?" Miguel asked after a couple minutes, taking out his old notebook out of his backpack. "All of it?" You replied, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly as you looked away, feeling embarrassed. "Por Dios. Okay, so we'll just build on what you know and start moving from there," he said after a couple of minutes of watching you try to narrow down what you needed the most help with. At the end of the study session, you didn't find yourself completely hating the experience. Sure, Miguel could be annoying and cocky, but he was also patient in the way he taught you and elaborate with his explanations. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You and Miguel continued to study at the library over the course of a few weeks and your physics grade had seen a vast improvement since you started. "I know you don't exactly like me, so I appreciate you taking the time to tutor me," you told Miguel after your most recent tutoring session had ended, looking over at him with a small smile on your face. He didn't say anything, just simply nodded, before packing up the textbook in his backpack. "I'll work up a study guide and review for your midterm, okay?" He said after you were finished up packing, holding the library door open for you. "I'd appreciate that, thanks," you replied, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you walked out of the library. The walk to the parking lot was mostly silent, until Miguel spoke up once you got to your car.

"Your brother and I are going to this party later if you wanted to come with us. You probably won't know anyone there but they're chill people," he offered, looking over at you with a ghost of a smile on his face. You placed your hand on your chin, pretending to think about it as you looked over at Miguel. “I'll see if i can make it. I have a pretty strict physics teacher," you replied, getting into your car and drove off to the apartment. Even though you'd given Miguel a vague answer, you were planning on going now that he'd invited you, wanting to see more of him that didn't involve the velocity equation.

As soon as you got home, you decided to get in the shower in order to get enough time to get dressed and do your makeup. After you stepped out of the shower, you opted for a red skin tight dress that went down to your thighs. "Which shirt do you think would look better on me?" Your brother asked when you were finished getting dressed, holding up almost two identical black shirts. "The one on the left?" You answered tentatively, watching as your brother's gaze went to the shirts. "You are no help whatsoever," he groaned, throwing the shirts on the bed. "Why are you so worried about what you're gonna wear?" You asked, sitting at your vanity as you started to put on a false pair of lashes on. “Katie Jenkins is supposed to be at the party so I'm trying to look presentable," he responded, referring to one of the cheerleaders, opting to put on the shirt you suggested. You turned around, facing your brother once he'd gotten ready as you smiled a bit. "She'd be an idiot not to like that shade of black."

You and your brother arrived at the party a couple minutes later, and he immediately left your side to see if he could get Katie Jenkins. As you looked around the party you came to the realization that Miguel was right, you didn't know anybody and despite the fact that everyone looked relaxed, you didn't trust your social skills to just go up to someone and start up a conversation. You went to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from a blue cooler and sat down on the couch as you scrolled through your phone.

"You know, the whole point of a party is to socialize," you heard someone say, looking up to see Miguel with a smug look on his face. "Some might say that it's to get free booze," you remarked, scooting over on the couch as you took a sip from the bottle. Miguel spread his legs on the couch as he sat down, the angle highlighting his thick thighs perfectly. You almost choked on your beer as you looked away, hoping that he didn't catch you staring. "So, I was wondering if I could ask you a question," he started, looking over at you as you set down your beer bottle on the coffee table in front of you. "That's a question in itself, no?"

Miguel rolled his eyes as he cleared his throat, getting ready to ask you the question. "I guess I just wanted to know why you said that I didn't like you earlier. Where'd you get the idea that I hated you?" He simply stated, looking over at you as your brows furrowed. "You've never given me any signs that you even tolerate me. And I don't know, probably the way you look at me and the people I choose to hang out with? Or the fact that you choose to acknowledge me last when we're in a room full of people," you reply, grabbing your beer bottle since you had a feeling you might need alcohol for the rest of this conversation. "I look at the people you hang out with like that because I'm jealous," he replied, his hand lingering on the back of the couch as you set your beer bottle down. "Jealous of what?"

Before Miguel got the chance to respond, someone blurted out "Seven Minutes in Heaven!" and it completely interrupted his flow of thought. You got up from the couch, opting to play the game just for the sake of trying to meet someone new. The game started off fairly slow, your brother getting the opportunity to go inside with Katie. He came out with his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen, following Katie around like a lost puppy. You decided to scroll through your phone while you waited for your turn, looking through Tiktoks and Instagram. A couple turns had passed until your name had been called, but the person going in with you made your heart drop.

Your name and Miguel’s had been called out to head into the closet and you felt your palms grow clammy at the thought of being in an enclosed space for that long with him. You decided to put your fears aside for the sake of the game, or at least for the sake of your ego since you didn't want to get called a chicken by people you hardly knew, and stood up. You two went inside the closet, sitting down in the dark as you felt your cheeks grow heated at how intoxicating his cologne was up close. "To answer your question, I got jealous of the way that they got to be with you. With your romantic partners, mostly. That they got to have you in a way that I never did," he spoke up after a while, his gaze practically burning into you even in the dark.

You felt your hands grow clammier as you thought about what he said, your heartbeat practically booming in your ears. "But what about all those girls you dated? You always seemed to be happy with them," you asked, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. Miguel reached up, turning on the closet lamp as he looked at you. "I never dated anyone. Not seriously, anyways. They were more of a distraction.. from the fact that I shouldn't feel this way towards you," he replied, one hand on your cheek as he tilted your chin towards his. Even though you were starting to get a pretty good idea of what feelings he was talking about, you still wanted him to admit it to you. "And how do you feel towards me?" You asked, looking up at him as you saw his gaze soften the tiniest bit. "I'm in love with you. I'm so in love with that it tormented me going to the apartment when you were dating someone, but not being able to do anything out of respect for your brother. You're constantly running through my mind, it's insane," he said with a small chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

You're not sure who initiated the kiss, but you were certain that you didn't want it to stop. His lips felt like they were molded just to kiss yours, the taste of him overwhelming just like everything else. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer to him like he was trying to get as much as possible while your hands intertwined themselves in his hair. The only sounds in the closet were those of your lips colliding and your shared heavy breaths. You let out a soft moan and tugged on his hair as you felt him nibble on your bottom lip gently, soothing the sting over with his tongue. He took the opportunity when you moaned to slip his tongue in your mouth, exploring every inch of you in the amount of time he had left.

You came back to your senses when you heard the shrill ring of someone's iPhone alarm outside, alerting you two that the time was up. You looked up to see a look of almost regret in Miguel’s eyes, feeling your heart sink just a little bit. You didn't want to acknowledge what this meant for you and Miguel so you decided to run out the closet, fixing your hair up quickly in the bathroom and reapplying a fresh coat of lipgloss. You looked down at your phone when you heard a notification ping, a message from your brother that he would be leaving with Katie after the party was over. You successfully avoided Miguel for the rest of the party, hanging out around the basement or the backyard porch as a means to distract yourself.

After a while of avoiding Miguel, you decided to head back to the apartment since the party had mostly died down. You felt your mind fuzzy from the kiss as you drove back home, the taste of him and the feeling of his lips still lingering in your mind. You pushed those thoughts away as you arrived at your apartment, going into your bedroom and grabbing your towel. You took a warm shower, hoping that it would ease some of the tension in your muscles and that it would help with those pesky thoughts about Miguel that just wouldn't go away.

You finished up with your shower half an hour later, but unfortunately it had done nothing to satisfy the urge that you now felt for your brother's best friend. You reminded yourself of what he was, of what he meant to your brother and what damage this could do to their friendship, but all you could think about is just how nice his lips felt against yours. How they seemed like they were made just for kissing you, how soft and how good he tasted. You changed into some pajamas, getting comfortable for bed as you grabbed a book from your nightstand and turned the lamp on. You hoped that the book would offer you some sort of escape from your current situation, give you some peace of mind. However, you had picked up a romance book so it didn't give you too much to escape from, the situation eerily creepy to what was happening with you. You eventually gave up on reading when you approached one of the smut pages, Miguel's face appearing front and center in your mind as you read what the love interest was doing to the main character.

After a while of reading, you eventually decided to give up on trying to stop thinking about Miguel and tried to go to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed, your stuffed animal ending up on the floor a while later. You picked it up, apologizing for what you'd done before opening up your phone to a picture of Miguel from his Instagram page. You felt the need inside of you grow as you saw that he was shirtless in the picture, his happy trail showing with the low-waisted swim shorts he was wearing.

You let out a small, annoyed sigh as your hand started making itself down your breasts. You gently squeezed your nipple, letting out a soft moan as you imagined that it was Miguel’s hands on your breasts instead. How pretty his mouth would look wrapped around your boobs. You set down your phone, giving into the urge and started to caress your breasts to the thought of Miguel. Your nimble fingers tugged and squeezed, hoping that the stimulation would help with the ache between your legs. The ache that Miguel had left behind. Your nipples were like little pebbles by the time you were done, clearly prominent in the white tee you had on.

You grabbed your dildo from your bedside table and a bottle of lube before you got a chance to think twice about who you were masturbating to. You let out a sharp breath as you felt the coldness from the lube hit your clit, the liquid starting to slide down between your folds. You lathered some of the lube onto the dildo, sliding it inside slowly as your mind started to conjure up scenarios. You pictured Miguel calling you a good girl, telling you how good you were taking his cock as he slowly started to push deep inside of you. You let out a soft moan as you felt the dildo completely inside of you, your pussy clenching tightly around it as you tried to adjust to the size. You pictured Miguel kissing your face, your body as you got adjusted to his size, whispering how much of a whore you were for him and his cock. How good your pussy was swallowing him up. With those thoughts in mind, you slowly started to pump the dildo inside of you.

You increased the pace after you got used to the size, letting the moans slip freely out of your mouth. "Y-Yes Miguel!" You moaned, your toes curling as you felt the dildo hit your g-spot. You thought about Miguel again, how easy it would be for him to figure out what made you tick, what made you writhe and beg for him. Sweat started building up on your forehead as you continued to push the dildo in and out of you, seeking the sweet relief of your release. Your phone pinged with a notification, but you were too focused on your pleasure to see that it was actually from Miguel. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingertips went to your clit, rubbing small fervent circles on it.

You thought about how good Miguel’s tongue would feel buried deep inside your pussy, your fingers tugging on his hair as you grinded against his face to get more of it. The dildo came in and out of you with a loud squelch, the mixture from your juices and the lube providing you with enough lubrication. Your back arched from the bed as you massaged your clit, pushing the dildo in and out of you. Miguel’s face came into your mind as you came, picturing him telling you how much he wanted you to cum, how pretty you looked when you were at bliss and how much he needed to taste your juices. "Oh Miguel! Yes, right there," you moaned out, your back completely off the bed as you came around the dildo. You slumped back against the bed, feeling post nut clarity hit you all at once. You felt ashamed for using him as the object of your fantasies, especially with the look in his eyes he had after he kissed you in the closet.

You let yourself think about the severity of your actions, knowing that your brother would probably go bat shit crazy if he found out you were doing this to the thought of Miguel or about the kiss that you two shared. You rubbed your temples, relieved by the knowledge that at least nobody would be witness to what happened in your room. You got up from the bed when you looked over at the dildo next to you, just wanting to clean it up and forget about what had happened.

You came back into your room after cleaning yourself up and the toy, hoping that the orgasm would help you go to sleep easier. Eventually, you found yourself tossing and turning in your bed once more, unable to sleep as thoughts of Miguel and shame circled through your mind. You checked your phone to see the message from Miguel, your eyes widening a bit as you saw the contents of what it said.

miguel: hey, your brother wanted me to check up on you so i'll be swinging by the apartment later if you need anything.

sent 12:31 am

You silently pray that Miguel hadn't arrived just yet, that he hadn't heard how needy and horny you were just a couple minutes ago. And all for him. You open up your bedroom door, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you saw that Miguel was standing there with his arms folded across his chest and his cheeks tinted red. Fuck.

986 notes · View notes

ironstrange1991 · 28 days

Text

You're My Comfort

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The reader has a bad day at work and Stephen comes to take care of her.

Word Cont: 2,1k

Warnings: None, just fluff.

A/N: I am still struggling with authors block, but I'm happy for finishing this little something. It's not much, but I was in need of a comfort fic. Hope your guys like it and have a good read.

You arrived from work without even realizing how you managed to drive home. Stephen was busy talking to some Avengers in the living room and you just walked past them up the stairs and straight to your shared room.

You were too tired to even get undressed even though you knew you would feel better after a shower, but still all you could do was kick off your shoes and fall face down on the bed letting a wave of silent crying take over you.

You were tired of your job, tired of the way your boss seemed to suck out your soul along with all your energy, but at the same time you felt bad for feeling that way. After all, you should be grateful to have a job in the first place, or at least you should be grateful that your job doesn't put you in danger or be as physically draining as Stephen's. You lost count of how many times he came home injured and yet he never complained. You on the other hand, seemed like a crying little girl and thinking that way only made you feel even worse and it was a vicious cycle that you couldn't get out of. Feeling bad about feeling bad and so on.

You were still face down, tears silently streaming down your face, when you heard the soft creak of the door opening and closing and the muffled sound of boots on the floor announcing the approaching footsteps. You immediately turned your face away because you didn't want Stephen to notice you were crying and then you felt the mattress dipping.

He touched your arm gently.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" His baritone voice held a note of concern.

You didn't answer, you just shrugged your shoulders like you did when you were a child and your mother asked why you were crying. Many times you didn't even know why you were crying, but you cried anyway and that was exactly how you felt today.

You felt his hand on your head stroking your hair gently and before he could say anything, you crawled closer to him and laid your head on his lap wrapping your arms around his waist. He seemed to like it because his body shook with what you thought was a small laugh. Contrary to what your irrational side told you, Stephen didn't care about your anxiety crisis or those moments where you couldn't say exactly what was happening. He was already used to dealing with your fluctuating moods.

"Can you at least tell me you're okay, so I don't worry?" He asked and you nodded.

"You're okay then. Nothing bad happened?" He insisted and you nodded again.

"Good." He continued stroking your hair in silence.

"I know I've been working a lot these last few days, but if that's what's making you upset..."

"It's not that." You replied with a choked voice. Of course he would find a way to blame himself. When Stephen learned to be less selfish and egocentric, he simply turned completely the other way and became extremely altruistic, which you didn't like, much less approve of.

"Then talk to me, sweetheart. I don't like seeing you like this." His hand had now gone down to the middle of your back, playing with the strands of your hair.

"I'm just tired, I guess."

He sighed "You think so? Y/n you've been working non-stop for the last few weeks."

"There was nothing else to do. You weren't here most of the time and the company needed me."

You can almost see Stephen's eyes rolling back in his head. "They like to take advantage of you, that's what. You're too good for them."

You did not answer. You knew he was right, but you didn't want to give in. He returned his hands to your head and began to caress your scalp with his fingertips lightly and you let out an involuntary groan.

"Feels good, uh?" You could hear the smirk in his voice. Always so proud that he managed to turn you into a puddle of goo whenever he touched you.

"I'm exhausted. I need to sleep. I barely slept at all last night." You confessed to what he vehemently rebuked.

"You know I don't like seeing you in this state. You need to take better care of yourself."

You shook your head. "Right now I don't think I can take care of myself at all. I'm too tired."

He chuckled, surrendering to your charm and drama.

"Do you want me to run a bath for you or would you prefer the shower?"

He asked, already running his fingers through your hair to get it out of your face. He did his best to tie them into a bun.

"You will stay with me?"

"If you want. But you know where this is going to take us, don't you?"

You denied "No funny business tonight. I'm too tired."

He hummed "As you wish, love. Come."

He patted your shoulder for you to allow him to stand up and extended his arms to help you up.

"Too tired to walk." You grumbled and he let out a small laugh.

"Come on. I'll carry you, little girl."

You found somewhere within you the strength to smile and tease him, "Yes, daddy."

He scoffed, but picked you up bride style and took you to the bathroom. He sat you on the toilet and ordered "Raise your arms. Let's take these clothes off."

You obeyed and let yourself be undressed by him slowly. It was different. Although he was used to ripping off your clothes and fucking you senseless, in that moment he was actually being gentle and there was nothing in his eyes but affection.

"Get up so we can take off that skirt." He asked and you did as he ordered. He took off your panties too, leaving you completely naked for him. A light shade of red tinting your cheeks.

"Bathtub or shower?" He asked to be sure and added it right after. "There's no way I'm leaving your side."

You nodded "Bathtub. With lavender and bubbles. Lots of bubbles."

He nodded, but instead of doing the whole process like a normal person, he moved his fingers and the bathtub filled with hot water. With a smirk he snapped his fingers and the water turned lilac and your nostrils were invaded by the delicious smell of lavender as you watched the water fill with foam. "As you wish, madam. Come."

He gave you his hand and helped you get into the tub, and you moaned contentedly with the feeling of the hot water surrounding your body.

He quickly undressed in front of you and that was a sight you would never get used to. Your eyes devoured every inch of his body before he entered the bathtub and sat right behind you.

He moaned softly as well letting the hot water relax him completely.

"Christ, I needed this." He confessed and you leaned your back against his chest feeling yourself being hugged by his strong arms and you leaned your head back letting your eyes close for a minute.

"What a shitty day I had" You blurted out, earning a small laugh from Stephen.

"It is not funny"

He buried his face in your hair, "I know. Want to tell me about it?"

You sighed, "Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I think I'm just tired of that environment, those people. Of doing the work of two or three and not getting any recognition for it. I'm tired of leaving that place feeling empty as if I had left my soul there."

Stephen listened in silence. He was good at that, at listening silently and letting you vent. It was one of his many qualities.

"And I feel bad for feeling this way. It feels like I'm being ungrateful. I know I should be grateful for being in a job in the first place, but I can't feel grateful right now and on top of that I feel silly complaining about my silly problems when you have to deal with so much..."

"Hey, don't do that!" Stephen scolded you. "Don't belittle your problems by comparing them to the things I do. It's not fair. Your feelings are valid, sweetheart and there's nothing wrong with feeling the way you're feeling right now. We just need to think of a way to make it better because I've noticed that this days when your come home like this have become more constant. You're always too tired and sad and I don't like seeing you like that."

You sighed feeling his lips on your neck and your skin prickling.

"I think I just need to stop thinking for a few minutes. My mind is my worst enemy, you know. The more I think the worse I feel."

Stephen hummed and continued placing kisses on your neck "I can help with that." His hands went down to your breasts, caressing them lightly.

"I said no funny business." You scolded him and he giggled softly and you felt him conjure up a soft sponge still under the water and started rubbing your back and neck with it. You can't stop a little moan from escaping your lips.

"I don't deserve you, Steph." You confessed to what he hummed, using the sponge to rub your arms, your belly, your thighs, every place he could reach.

"I usually think the same thing when you take care of me."

"Guess we don't deserve each other then." You teased.

"Or we were made for each other. I like this option better."

"Because you're a romantic. You want to be tough, but deep down you're soft, Stephen."

He let out an incredulous laugh "I've been called many things, but romantic is the first time."

You smiled, keeping your eyes closed and reveling in the touch of his hands when he puts down the sponge and started massaging your shoulders gently. His hand was shaking, but you even liked that feeling.

"You're different with me." You insisted. "I watch you with everyone else and you're different when you're with me, sweeter and more affectionate."

He hummed petulantly. "You didn't expect me to treat Stark and Wong the way I treat my girlfriend, right?"

"It's not that. I just think you allow yourself to be your most natural self when you're with me and I like that."

"I like it too." He agreed kissing the back of your neck.

The two of you were silent for a few minutes, his hands continued massaging your shoulders lightly and although he couldn't put too much pressure on the act, it was enough to relax you. The sound of cars passing on the street occasionally broke the silence of the Sanctum, as well as the sound of the water that was slowly cooling and his calm and steady breathing.

Eventually your eyes started to get heavy and Stephen must have felt the way you let the weight of your body rest on his because he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed the top of your head.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked genuinely worried.

You hummed positively and he sighed looking relieved.

"Good. Now I think we can finish here and go straight to bed, what do you think?"

You didn't have time to respond because your stomach growled embarrassingly loud to which Stephen let out a small laugh.

"Food first, then. Come." He asked and the two of you got out of the tub.

When you finished getting dressed, Stephen in just pajama pants and you in a nightgown, you ran to get under the covers and get comfortable.

"I'll get you something to eat. How about a sandwich?"

You nodded and then asked "What did you have for dinner?"

He shook his head "To be honest, I didn’t even remember to eat. It was a pretty busy afternoon."

You scolded him with a look, "Then I guess you can bring sandwiches for both of us."

Stephen nodded.

He came back a few minutes later with a plate with some sandwiches cut in halves, which you quickly devoured. When you both finished, neither of you was willing to get up, so Stephen just placed the plate on the bedside table and adjusted himself on the pillows, letting you lay on his chest.

"I know I've said this before, but you're so good to me, Steph."

He sighed, stroking your arm gently.

"I love you." You said, closing your eyes and feeling the tiredness of the day overwhelm you.

Stephen placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Taking care of you is what I love doing most, sweetheart. I love you. You have no idea how much."

You hummed softly "Yes I do because I love you just the same."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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sidekick-hero · 3 months

Text

Love from the other side

(steddie | rated: M | wc: 6.2k | tags: Vampire Eddie Munson, Nurse Steve Harrington, Mild Gore, Blood Drinking | AO3)

"Steve, we've got a major crash on the Interstate. Multiple vehicles involved. You're on triage duty. Patients will be arriving in five minutes,” Robin, the head nurse in the ER, tells him in a calm voice. She's Steve's best friend, but even he's sometimes surprised at how calm Robin can be in critical situations. He's seen her fret over the prospect of asking out a girl she likes, and her freak-out before her first date with Nancy is now something of a legend between them.

But ask her to handle a crisis and she's cool as a cucumber.

Steve sighs and nods. That means it's going to be a long night. He's already been on for ten hours, two more and he could have gone home to his cat and his warm, soft bed. But they're understaffed as it is, and with so many new patients in unknown condition coming in, he'll be here for at least another five hours. Maybe more.

He makes his way to the triage area of the ER and braces himself for what's to come.

When he finally makes it home, the sun has already risen and he's dead on his feet.

He stumbles through the front door of his apartment and is greeted by Garfield, his tabby cat, who continues to weave through his legs as he takes off his shoes, almost tripping him. He meows pitifully at Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, you poor thing. You'r treated worse here than in a shelter. Warm and cozy and dry with a human to open your tins and feed you."

Garfield meows again, this time more demanding, emphasizing the urgency with which he wants food.

Throwing up his arms, Steve relents. "Fine. Heaven forbid I get to change into something comfortable first."

As soon as he places Garfield's bowl in front of him, Steve is all but forgotten as the cat digs in. "You're welcome," he says to his beloved little freeloader, not expecting a response. He's talking to a cat, after all, but it still helps make the apartment feel less empty.

And there's no one to judge him for it. Not since Robin moved in with Nancy and he had to find a one-bedroom apartment that he could actually afford on his own.

It's not that he begrudges them their happiness, far from it. But coming home to an empty apartment and talking to his cat instead of another human being got old pretty quickly. Worse than that.

It has become lonely.

"Pull yourself together, Steve, and stop whining," he chides himself, still talking out loud.

Steve sighs. He can see himself ending up a hermit with twenty cats who never leaves the house. Deciding it's best to just go to sleep before his thoughts turn any more self-pitying, he bends down to scratch Garfield's head and tells him, "I'm going to bed."

Garfield continues to ignore him as he sips the milk Steve has placed in front of him.

Steve is off for the next two days and spends the time mostly sleeping, doing laundry, and stocking up on food after realizing he didn't even have a slice of toast for breakfast.

He also goes over to Robin and Nance's for dinner, since he's not a hopeless hermit yet. Between the three of them, they go through three bottles of wine and end up swapping stories and inside jokes until his stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

It doesn't make coming back to an empty apartment any easier.

His next shift is another night shift, and it's surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. So far, the worst he has had to deal with is a nasty cut on a drunk frat boy's forehead after the guy fell through a glass door. Steve's still surprised he didn't hurt himself worse. Head wounds bleed like crazy, though, so he looked like he had been attacked by a serial killer when his equally drunk buddies carried him to the emergency room. Seeing that only one deep cut needed stitches, while the other, shallower cuts on his arms and face would be fine on their own, had put Steve in a surprisingly good mood.

So good, in fact, that he carelessly remarked to Carol, the other nurse on duty with him, "Looks like a quiet night for once."

You could have heard a needle drop in the silence that followed his statement, and Carol looked ready to murder him. He had just violated the most important rule in any hospital.

Never, under any circumstances, say the "Q" word.

"Fuck. Oh God, I didn't mean..."

"Too fucking late, Harrington." Carol huffed before stalking off, probably to complain about him to her boyfriend, who was also the hospital director's son.

Less than twenty minutes later, all hell broke loose.

A dance floor at a local club had collapsed, resulting in several dozen serious casualties, all arriving on stretchers, crowding the triage area as Steve worked on autopilot. Assess, prioritize, assist.

In the midst of the chaos, another ambulance arrives and he goes over to talk to the paramedics about taking the patient to St. John's instead because they are at capacity, which really means they were past capacity an hour ago.

One look at the patient tells him there is no time for that,

The man on the gurney was only a few years older than Steve and had a gaping wound on his neck. He was white as a sheet and there was too little blood around a wound that looks like it hit a major artery.

"What the fuck?" He can't help but ask and the paramedic shrugs with a puzzled look on his face.

"I don't know, man. Found him like this and whoever called it in left before we got there."

Rolling their new patient in with hurried steps, Steve wonders if there was anything they could do. The wound needed surgery, and they needed to get blood and other fluids into the man as quickly as possible. Judging by the slow and shallow breathing and the sluggish pulse, his system has already started to shut down.

They lost him before they even got to the operating room. Steve doesn't even hear about it until hours later, when everyone who had been on the dance floor has finally been taken care of and a bone-deep exhaustion replaces the adrenaline-fueled energy in his body. He's not proud of it, but he's too tired to spare the news more than a brief burst of sadness.

Over the next weeks, seven more patients with gaping neck wounds come into the ER while Steve’s on shift, all drained of too much blood to make it past the first ten minutes under their care.

Whispers about a killer roaming the streets of Hawkins have started circulating as the number of victims rises steadily and Steve has started to sleep with a baseball bat under his bed. Just in case.

It’s early Tuesday night, four hours into his twelve hours shift, when another one comes in, this time a young girl around Steve’s age with long strawberry blonde hair and a pretty face. On her neck Steve can make out a gaping wound, just like the others had shown.

But this one is bleeding, profusely.

And the girl is awake, looking up at Steve with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hey, you’re safe, it’s gonna be okay, we’re going to take care of you,” he reassures her over and over as they make their way inside, ushering her to get surgery immediately. When he gives her his warmest reassuring smile she even tries her best to smile back.

Steve hopes she makes it.

She does. Against all odds, considering that the last two dozen victims with similar injuries have all died, she makes it.

Her name is Chrissy Cunningham, and when Steve reads the name on her file, he remembers her. She was a year behind him, a cheerleader. They never really talked much, but he remembers that she was kind and talked to him after everyone else on the team and the cheerleading squad had stopped doing so.

He's glad that she survived, and he promises himself that he will check in on her as soon as his shift is over.

If it hadn't been Chrissy, if it hadn't been someone he knew, he probably never would have met Eddie.

At the end of one of those weird in-between shifts at four in the morning, Steve changes into a pair of sweatpants and his favorite hoodie before heading over to the observatory area where they had to put Chrissy for now because a whole wing of the building is under construction due to some asbestos in the walls. She's already in stable condition, only needing fluids and antibiotics because they have no idea what bit her, so they're letting her sleep it off for now and hopefully find a room to put her in the next day.

The halls of the hospital are quiet at this time of night, especially outside the ER, and it's almost eerie. It feels like no one is here but Steve and the thought makes him shiver. All this serial killer talk is really getting to him, he thinks.

Reaching the area separated only by screens, he sees a figure standing by her bed. He can't make out much, but it appears to be a man, judging by his height, and he's leaning over the bed, talking softly to Chrissy. The man, if it is one, but the deep timber of his voice makes Steve think it is, is not wearing scrubs, but jeans and a hoodie, and Steve is pretty sure he's not hospital staff.

Suddenly, he remembers that something - or someone - must have inflicted the injury on Chrissy's neck.

"Hey, who are you, and what are you doing here?" he shouts as he runs over to the bed, and the figure turns to face him.

It is a man, with wide, dark eyes in a pale face framed by equally dark, messy curls.

"Shit, shit, shit," the man curses and bolts, moving faster than should be humanly possible. One moment he's staring at Steve like a deer in the headlights with his big bambi eyes, the next his shoulder slams into Steve, knocking him to the ground as the mysterious figure disappears from view.

He pushes himself upright and rises from the ground with a determined effort, because even though the guy doesn't look like it, it feels like he's been hit by a brick wall. When he regains his footing, he shakes off the impact and makes his way over to Chrissy to check on her.

She's awake, but too weak to sit up, though she tries.

"Shh, hey, don't strain yourself Chrissy, it's all right, he's gone. You're safe," he reassures her, a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving too much and aggravating her wound.

"No," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, shaking her head slightly. Just when he wants to reiterate that yes, he's really gone, she continues. "He's safe. He saved me."

"What?" Steve asks, taken aback by her statement. He can tell that even the few words she has spoken have taken a toll on her, draining what little strength she has regained, but he can't help it, he needs to know what she means.

"He...saved me. Pulled him...off. Off me. Would have...killed..." she trails off, her eyelids fluttering shut and Steve lets her be.

Pulling up a chair, he sits down next to her to keep watch, just in case her savior decides to come back.

The next day Chrissy is more lucid. She's also in her own room and has already given a statement to the police when Steve comes in for his shift.

It doesn't matter though, he still has to ask her what happened, needs to know who the strange man was who continued to haunt Steve's dreams after he came home sometime in the early morning.

"I don't know who he is, Steve. He just showed up while Jason...while he," she is visibly shaken by having to remember the events of last night and Steve thinks he should tell her that it's okay, she doesn't have to tell him. But he doesn't. It feels like she needs to say it as much as he needs to hear it.

Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Chrissy continues, "While Jason was biting me. Mauled me, really. I think he would have torn my throat out if this man had not shown up. He slammed into Jason, ripped him off of me, and they both went down. There was a struggle, I could hear it, but everything hurt so much I couldn't move my head. It went on for a while, I don't know how long. Time was really weird. And then the guy was looking down at me, telling me to stay still, that he was going to call an ambulance, and that I just had to hang in there. He pressed something against my neck and it hurt so much, but the pain kept me there, y'know? So I wouldn't float away and never come back. He told me to stay with him and I did. Until we heard the ambulance. Then he told me he was sorry, but he had to go. And then he was gone and the paramedics took me away."

Chrissy looks very pale after telling her story, the dark rings under her eyes more pronounced than when he first entered the room. But before he can let her rest, he has one more question.

"What was he doing here?"

To Steve's surprise, the question makes Chrissy smile. "An apology, because this is no way for a lady to be left in the lurch."

Steve has no idea what to do with this information, so he just takes Chrissy's hand and squeezes it gently.

"You'll be out of here in no time, Chrissy. We will take good care of you, I promise."

"I know. Thanks, Steve."

He turns and walks away, leaving her to get back to sleep, knowing that it will be a long time before he will be able to do the same.

What the fuck is going on?

They find Jason Carver, or what is left of him, the next day. It's all over the news. No one knows why he attacked his girlfriend or who killed him. The reports leave out a lot of the gruesome details, just saying that he was torn to pieces when they found him.

Steve, of course, can't let that be all. He has to know what happened, so after his shift he sneaks down to the morgue to take a look at what is left of Jason, a guy he only knew in passing, since Steve had already left the school when Jason became captain of the basketball team, taking Steve's old position.

What he finds is a body that is badly mangled, just like the news said. There are deep wounds, chunks of flesh missing, his right arm torn from his shoulder. Though it's hard to swallow, it's not the first time Steve has seen a body destroyed almost beyond recognition. What makes him recoil from the dead man in front of him is the fact that Jason Carver's body is already decomposing as if he'd been dead for several days, maybe weeks, instead of not even 48 hours.

Steve leaves the morgue even more confused - and frightened - and heads home with the image of Jason's tattered, rotting body burned into his eyelids.

Over the next three weeks Steve sees four more victims with the same torn throats and bloodless bodies. None of them can be saved like they saved Chrissy.

He doesn’t see the mysterious man again.

It's late June when Steve's life changes forever.

The sun has only set an hour ago and the air is still warm as he walks home from his shift. Robin and Nance's car broke down the day before, and they live on the outskirts of town, so Steve gave them his car until theirs is fixed in a few days. The weather is nice and he doesn't mind walking the three miles to his apartment.

He's almost home, maybe ten minutes away, when he hears someone whistle.

There's a man standing at the entrance to an alley a few feet ahead of him, and since he's the only one around, Steve assumes it must be him whistling at Steve. The guy is hot, there is no way around it, about Steve's height with an athletic build and a haircut that reminds him of the 80's, his blond hair styled into a mullet.

"What's a pretty guy like you doing out here all alone?" The man asks as he gives Steve a slow look. It's supposed to be seductive, Steve thinks, but it just comes off as sleazy. Which is a shame, because the guy has a pretty face, long lashes, full lips, delicate features. Steve's also going through a bit of a dry spell lately, but he's not desperate enough to hook up with a slimy sleazeball like that.

"None of your business, really," he replies, walking a little faster than before. Something doesn't feel right, he thinks, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"Aww, don't be like that, sweet thing. I just wanna talk, I swear." Steve is almost past the guy when their eyes meet and he feels himself freeze. "Why don't you come closer so I can smell you better?"

Even as he thinks, "What the hell is wrong with this guy?" he feels his body turn toward him and his feet propel him forward. He feels himself panic, but it's a distant thing, like an itch under his skin that he can't reach no matter how hard he scratches.

When he's in front of the stranger, so close that their chests almost touch, the man leans in and sniffs Steve's neck like a dog at a slab of meat. He hums deep in his chest and Steve feels the wet touch of his tongue against his skin. It's enough of a shock that he can get his body to react, to fight back, but it's no use. The moment he moves, the man growls menacingly at him.

With his feet still rooted to the ground, Steve feels like he's underwater, his senses dulled and his limbs heavy, weighed down by the tons of water around him. He fights it with all his strength and it takes all he's got to put his hands on the man's chest and push him away.

It's not even close to a hard push, but the man clearly didn't expect Steve to fight back at all, so he stumbles back a bit anyway. Unfortunately for Steve, it only makes him angrier.

"Looks like you got some fight in you after all. Too bad I don't like my food to fight back," he snarls, and before Steve knows what's happening he feels his back slam into the wall behind him, darkness surrounding them on all sides.

He struggles against the hands holding him down, but it's no use, their grip steely and unyielding.

The once pretty face has turned into something twisted and ugly, a grotesque imitation of a human face, and when the thing in front of him opens its mouth, all Steve sees are teeth. Long, sharp teeth.

Steve screams, but not a sound comes out of its mouth.

As those teeth sink into his neck, the face of the man who saved Chrissy's life pops unbidden into his mind. Steve has seen it in his dreams more than once, and it's strangely comforting to think of it now, in what Steve is sure will be his last minutes alive. As if this is all a fucked up dream and Chrissy's mysterious savior will come for him, too.

White hot pain races through his body from where the thing that looked like a man sunk its teeth into him and it's only that pain that makes him believe what he sees next.

One moment he's in mind-numbing agony, almost wishing for death to come and end his suffering, and the next the oppressive weight of that thing is gone, its teeth no longer in Steve. With nothing holding him up, he crumples to the ground, his head dazed and his body shaking like a leaf.

To his right he hears the sounds of a viscous battle. Growls and snarls, flesh hitting flesh, flesh hitting brick, the sound of bones snapping. He's too weak to even turn his head, and part of him is glad for that.

The fight seems to go on forever and Steve feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness. His heart has stopped pounding and his pulse has slowed to about 60 beats per minute, which is good. Not too slow, his system is still going strong. It was cardiac arrest after immense blood loss that had killed the other victims, but so far that doesn't seem to be Steve's fate.

At least not if the wound on his neck that is still slowly bleeding is taken care of soon.

He doesn't dare press his undoubtedly dirty palm against it yet. Hell, he's not even sure if he can lift his hand that far. But something has to be done about the bleeding, sooner rather than later.

As if his savior had heard his thoughts, there is a final, stomach-churning sound of flesh and bone ripping, followed by silence, the fight finally over.

And then there he is, as if his mind had conjured him, the man who saved Chrissy. The man with the big brown doe eyes and the pale skin and the messy curls. There's blood on his face now, and... other things Steve doesn't want to think about.

Steve is safe now, he feels it deep in his soul. He doesn't know how he can know that, how he can trust a complete stranger to keep him safe, but he does. His eyelids flutter shut, the tension finally draining from him completely.

A cool hand on his cheek and a warm, deep voice, tinged with what sounds like fear, pull him back.

"Hey, no, no, no. Steve, you need to stay here with me, okay? Stay with me, sweetheart."

"You know my name," Steve mumbles, fighting the heavy rocks that weigh down his eyelids as he looks at the pretty face in front of him. His eyes dip lower and there's more blood on the man, his clothes torn and his skin exposed. "You're hurt."

"You're very observant, Stevie. Come on, we gotta get you to the hospital. You'll be as good as new in no time." He smiles at Steve and Steve is helpless not to smile back. There's the tease of a dimple forming in his cheek and Steve lifts his hand with Herculean effort to touch it. When the man notices the gesture, the dimple forms fully, deep and alluring. A cold hand catches his before it reaches its target and Steve whines in protest.

The man chuckles fondly. "Here, lemme help you," he says, bringing Steve's hand to his face, the dimple still waiting for Steve to touch it. The skin is soft under his hands and cold too, like it's a winter night and not the end of June.

"I'm gonna pick you up now, Stevie. It's faster than waiting for an ambulance. Just close your eyes and we'll be there before you know it."

Steve feels himself lifted from the ground into strong arms and instinctively turns his head into the man's chest, enjoying the vibration of his soft laughter at the gesture against his cheek.

Then they're moving, and fast. One second he wonders how someone covered in blood and other unspeakable things can smell so good, and the next the lights of the hospital burn bright and painful in his blurry eyes.

"He needs help, now," he hears the man say to someone, his voice firm and demanding. It makes Steve shiver in his arms. And then he's placed on a gurney and his savior leaves with the whisper of cold lips on Steve's forehead.

It's only much later, when he's recovered enough to form coherent thoughts, that Steve realizes two things.

He doesn't even know the name of the man who saved him.

He never heard a heartbeat as his head was pressed against the man's chest.

Steve is released two days later and Robin insists that he stay with her and Nancy for a while. There's really no arguing with his best friend when she's got something on her mind, so he doesn't even try. He's too tired anyway.

His sleep is shit, plagued by nightmares of sharp teeth and blood and bodies being torn to pieces.

He also dreams of the mysterious man, and while these dreams aren't nightmares, they're still confusing, even unsettling, because they leave him feeling hollow. Like he has lost something. Which is ridiculous, the man was never his, he doesn't even know his name.

As he spends the next week at Robin and Nancy's, being pampered and doted on, he has no idea how close he is to learning the name of his savior. That and much more.

After finally convincing his best friend that he can manage on his own, that he needs to go home, that Garfield misses him even with Robin or Nancy stopping by to feed him, it is both daunting and a relief to see Robin's car drive away from where he stands in front of his apartment building.

The nightmares haven't stopped, and he admits that the prospect of being alone in his apartment scares him, but he can't live on his best friend's couch forever. Besides, even there, the nightmares would wake him up shaking and panting, waking Robin and Nancy more than once in the middle of the night. Alone in his apartment, he won't wake anyone with his whimpering and screaming.

Garfield is already waiting for him when he comes through the door, weaving through his legs and meowing at him. Surprised at how much he missed the tabby menace, Steve leans down and takes him in his arms, burying his face in the soft fur.

"Hey baby, sorry for leaving you alone for so long. But Aunt Robbie told me that she and Nancy took good care of you, playing with you and petting you. Probably spoiled you rotten, huh?"

Garfield meows again and pushes his head under Steve's chin, rubbing against him and purring like crazy. Steve smiles into his fur, thinking that he's glad to be home, even if it's still empty except for the purring cat in his arms.

He puts Garfield back down and makes him something to eat before heading to his bathroom to take a long, hot shower and change into something more comfortable. When he pushes open the door and steps inside, he is too stunned by the sight that greets him for any real reaction other than a sharp intake of breath.

On the floor is the man who has taken over most of Steve's dreams and many of his waking thoughts as well.

The man lies still and Steve can see dark stains on his clothes and he just knows it's blood. It could be someone else's, but somehow Steve is sure it's the man's own. Within seconds, he's on his knees next to the unconscious (please just be unconscious) figure, his knees smarting from the way he just fell onto them on the hard and cold tiles.

The man is on his stomach, his face turned to the side, away from Steve, so he moves to turn the man over. He's surprisingly heavy, a dead weight under his hands (no, no, no, not dead, just unconscious, his mind chants), but Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he finally manages to turn the man onto his back.

"Oh God," Steve groans as he can finally assess the damage. There are wounds all over his body, deep gashes on his thighs, his torso, his arms, even his face. "What happened to you?"

"Ten against one. Not...fair," the man replies, his voice barely audible and his eyes still closed. Steve has to lean in to make out the words, but him talking also means the man is still alive, though Steve isn't sure how much longer.

Taking the man's wrist, Steve looks for a pulse to see how far his system has already shut down, but... there is no pulse to be found.

He remembers not hearing a heartbeat when his cheek was pressed against the man's chest, so he presses his ear to where the man's heart is, waiting for the sound of its faint beat.

Nothing.

Steve leans back and searches the man's eyes, half-open now and clearly alive.

"How... you can't be alive. You don't have a pulse, your heart isn't beating." He is stammering, but it's a lot to take in. It shouldn't be possible. It's not like he wants the guy to be dead, but for all intents and purposes, he should be.

Bloodied lips pull back into a faint smile. "Sweetheart, not even the most beautiful sight like you could make my heart beat again. Although it really tries for you."

Despite everything, the way this guy flirts with him while he lies in his own blood brings a crooked smile to Steve's face.

"There, that smile? If it could, my heart would be beating out of my chest right now." Steve can tell the man is trying for levity, but he's fading and fast.

"As charming as you are, you're also bleeding all over my bathroom floor. With no pulse or heartbeat. And I don't even know your friggin' name! So forgive me for asking, but what the fuck?"

"Sorry for the blood on your floor, I tried to patch myself up, but I must have passed out. Embarrassing, really. Didn't think you'd be back so soon. I'd get out of your hair, but... well, you know. I don't think I can move." The words start to slur halfway through, and those beautiful brown eyes keep disappearing behind heavy eyelids. Steve has to do something, quickly, before his savior dies.

"Eddie," the man croaks, his voice barely audible. Steve wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the intent way he stares at him.

"What?"

"My name. Eddie."

"Eddie. Okay." Steve nods his head, the hand still wrapped around Eddie's wrist grabbing his hand instead, squeezing it gently. "Eddie, we need to get you to the hospital now."

It looks like Eddie tries to shake his head, but gives up halfway, exhausted. "No. They can't help me."

"But they can! Someone needs to sew up your wounds, and you've lost too much blood, you need a blood transfusion and fluids and - why are you laughing?"

"You're right, I need blood, but not the way you think."

The image of sharp teeth flickers behind his eyelids, a gnarled face snarling at him. The feeling of those teeth buried in his neck, white-hot pain shooting through his veins.

"What... Eddie, I don't..."

Eddie's face turns toward him, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath, as if smelling the air.

"Come closer so I can smell you better."

Two different voices growling and snarling, not just one.

Strong arms lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing, carrying him nearly three miles. "It's faster than waiting for an ambulance."

"You're not human." Steve whispers. It's not a question.

Eddie answers it anyway. "No, I'm not."

"You're... You're a..." He can't say it, can't even think it.

"A vampire, yes." Eddie says it for him and everything falls into place. The neck wounds, the drained victims, the sharp teeth and the inhuman strength and speed.

"You want my blood." Steve has no idea why he's stating the obvious instead of running as fast as he can, but something tells him he's still safe with Eddie.

"So observant." Eddie chuckles, but it sounds wet and weak. "Yeah. But I won't take it, don't worry, Stevie."

In his mind Steve goes over the things he knows.

Eddie is a vampire. A vampire who killed another vampire to save Steve’s life. To save Chrissy’s life.

Eddie is dying. He may already be dead, but it looks like vampires can die again. Permanently.

Eddie wants his blood.

"Would it help you? My blood, I mean." That's the only thing he's not sure about. The most important thing, at least.

It looks like an inhuman - invampire, Steve thinks - effort, but Eddie manages to shake his head firmly.

"Steve, no."

"Would. It. Help?" Steve insists.

Eddie, the stubborn asshole, presses his lips together and refuses to look at him. That's answer enough for him.

Still holding Eddie's hand in his, he lifts his other hand to Eddie's mouth and presses the inside of his wrist against the closed mouth.

"Come on, Eddie. Drink." Another shake of the man's head only strengthens Steve's resolve. "Eddie, please. You saved my life. Let me do the same."

The stubborn ass continues to refuse, so Steve does the only logical thing. He stands, grabs his razor, and slides the blade across his wrist, just deep enough to draw blood from the otherwise shallow wound.

He presses the wrist back against Eddie's lips and this time he feels the man tremble.

"Please drink. I want you to. Let me help you." Moving his wrist and smearing his blood over Eddie's full lips, Steve pleads again, his voice breaking. "Please, Eddie."

It's the last please that does it, and the next thing Steve feels is the white-hot pain of teeth sinking into his wrist. Still smiling through the pain, he squeezes Eddie's hand. "That's it, you're doing so good. Take what you need."

And Eddie does. He drinks and drinks and drinks until the world goes fuzzy and black spots start dancing in front of Steve's eyes.

"Eddie," Steve slurs before everything goes dark.

When Steve comes to, he's in his bed.

His wrist is wrapped tightly in a pristine-looking white bandage, and he's wearing his pajamas. He has no idea how he got here or what happened, everything is kind of blurry. Steve tries to sit up, but almost immediately the world starts spinning and he groans in protest.

That's when the door to his bedroom opens and his mysterious savior walks into the room with a bowl in his hand.

Eddie, his mind supplies. His name is Eddie and he was dying the last time Steve saw him.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks him, his voice full of worry and he gets a sad smile in return.

"Stevie, I'm the one who should be asking you that." Eddie sits down next to him on the bed but doesn't touch him. He looks tense and Steve wonders why. Though most of what happened is a blur, he remembers holding Eddie's hand and Eddie calling him beautiful.

"I'm fine. A little dizzy, but fine. You were the one bleeding all over my bathroom floor. What happened, how are you even standing, how long was I out?"

Eddie reaches out and takes Steve's cheek in his hand. "You saved my life, Stevie. That's what happened. And you almost got yourself killed, you self-sacrificing idiot. So even though it saved my life, I have to ask you, beg you if I have to, to never do anything so stupid again."

Steve puts his own hand on top of Eddie's hand on his face and looks him in the eye as he tells him, "You saved my life first and risked your own as well. So I guess the pot is calling the kettle black here."

He's rewarded with a dimpled smile. "Fair point. Now that we're even, can you promise me you'll never do anything like this again?"

"I dunno. Can you promise not to try to save me again if I'm in danger?" He knows it's a low blow, but if it helps him get his point across, he's not above playing dirty. Besides, part of him really wants to know. The needy part, the scared part.

"You know the answer to that," Eddie says, brushing his thumb across Steve's cheekbone.

"Isn't that a little unfair?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, and Steve realizes he's so much closer than before. "But I don't care if it keeps you safe."

Steve feels his heart thunder in his chest, his eyes darting from Eddie's to the other man's lips and back again. Licking his own lips, Steve asks, "And why is that?"

Eddie's lips are only a breath away from his own, and he tastes his answer as much as he hears it.

"You know that answer as well."

Before Steve can say anything else, Eddie's cool, smooth lips seal over his and every thought in his mind is forgotten. There's only Eddie.

Later he'll ask about the other vampires. About all the dead people in the emergency room. He'll ask who Eddie is, why he's running around town saving people, and who hurt him so badly.

But all that can wait, at least until Steve is done drinking down the delicious sounds falling from Eddie's mouth.

This is a little birthday gift for my dear friend @yournowheregirl. Alice, I know you love vampires so I tried my best to give you some. Time ran out on me but I still hope you like it 💜

I hope you had the best birthday ever because you deserve nothing but happiness.

Edit: I forgot while posting to say that this is heavily inspired by a wonderful podcast I highly recommend, Not quite dead. Give it a listen folks!

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #Nurse Steve Harrington #my writing

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krakensdottir · 8 months

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Fav Aziraphale Moments in S2

Okay, I admit, I'm more of a Crowley blogger. He's my blorbo. But you literally can't love him without loving his other half. It's time to show some Aziraphale appreciation.

In no particular order, here are things Aziraphale did in S2 that made my jaw drop / breathing stop / otherwise really stuck with me:

Cradling the jar

Who would've thought hugging a jar of formaldehyde with a tumor floating in it could be heartbreaking? The look on Aziraphale's face when he learns it came from a young child, one that couldn't be saved, and the way his body language shifts as he tucks the jar close and precious against his chest, trying too late to protect it... Listen, I have really stubborn tear ducts, the final scene of S2 didn't make me cry (though it made a valiant effort), but I teared up at this.

Standing up to Crowley in the Job flashback

Really, the entire Job flashback is 10/10 for both of them. But Aziraphale especially shines when he steps in front of Crowley and says 'Tell me you want this.' They've only met a handful of times since the Fall at best, but Aziraphale is confident enough to call him out. And he doesn't falter or hesitate about it, either. He gets right up in the demon's face and makes him say it. Makes him lie outright that he wants to hurt anyone.

And then, of course, in front of the children, Aziraphale - no longer asking, now absolutely certain he's right - steps into Crowley's space again, looks him dead in his sinister eyes, and says he's dead sure those children are safe. Buddy, I had chills.

SPEAKING of chills...

I didn't know his voice could go that deep (Furfur scene)

Okay, I actually knew Michael Sheen could sound like that. But I admit, I 100% did not expect to hear it come out of Aziraphale. In the form of his own name, no less. I guess that's what happens when someone threatens Crowley right in front of him.

The sassy eyebrow

We've all talked about this but it's never a bad time to bring it up again. Shax really says 'You don't seem like his type' and Aziraphale's eyebrow says 'Honey you have no idea' right back at her. She can pry at his defenses in a lot of ways, but making him doubt his importance to Crowley is clearly not one of them. And that's really good to know.

Telling both demons and angels to fuck off

I was already giddy from seeing him go full Protective Principality at a horde of demons, but telling off the Archangels took it to a new level. He has had ENOUGH. Screw the angelic hierarchy, this is his bookshop and he's done. (Crowley giving him that oh-so-proud smile through the window without Az even knowing it was the icing on the cake. Yeah Crowley, I feel exactly the same.)

Honorable mention, again from the Job flashback: when Crowley says 'See you in Hell' and Aziraphale, instead of hesitating or having a crisis over it, defiantly sinks his teeth into the ox ribs again, tearing out another hunk of flesh. There's such a mood of 'Fuck it then, if this damns me I might as well enjoy it.' Fuck yeah, Aziraphale.

#good omens #go s2 spoilers #aziraphale #this is an official az appreciation post

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kalims · 1 year

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— MALLEUS DRACONIA | red

or, malleus forgets to tell you that his grandmother is coming (only remembering the day she does) and you immediately have an inner crisis.

wc. 792 words

note. hey guys, I guess thats it

"my grandmother—" he paused. "she is visiting today,"

you promptly choke on the tea like you would with one of lilia's homemade 'fruit shake' that he'd mistaken salt for sugar, and apparently added eggs for more flavor. midst your heaping coughing session—with familiar care malleus' face scrunches up in concern. he places a hand over your spine, like it's honestly gonna relieve the sting in your throat.

as patient as ever he waits calmly till you've finished losing your voice. "are you all right, beastie?" he asks.

beastie. you didn't know exactly when he'd started calling you that. you supposed it had already happened before you fully realized it on your own. strangely enough it oddly feels more affectionate compared to his old 'child of man' though you do admit it was better with 'my'.

well the old one did hold some sentimental value. you never did let go of his tsunotaro nickname, no matter how much sebek yelled, and bemoaned over.

malleus didn't mind. he liked it as well.

your face shifts into a deadpan, rubbing your poor throat. at the very least he could have told you that after you'd finished gulping down that damned water! "given how I almost died—no." you answer curtly, voice wavering several times. to be met with a confused stare.

"but you are alive and well," he expresses the obvious. politely leaving his arms hanging by his sides uselessly. as much as he'd like to keep his hands on you he supposes he'd be stepping over boundaries and possibly making you uncomfortable. and malleus would hate it if it turned out like that.

"oh malleus, dear. you don't get it,"

the new endearment term causes warmth to bloom in his chest, his lips twitch to a small smile and he fights the urge to just cradle you in the palm of his hand—cherish you, and hide you away from everyone else.

because malleus believes no one would love you like he ever does.

"what do you mean? get what?"

"nothing,"

"how would I get nothing? It must be something,"

if you did answer his statement you know it would just keep going, into malleus not understanding once again. but you suppose it's what makes him lovable, despite the contrast of what you are thinking (his large frame, and his refined features you could spend a decade staring at) he's like a child with an innocence that not a lot of people have.

he is very genuine.

you should stop thinking about it lest you fall deeper.

"nevermind that. your grandmother? hello?" you flail your arms around. hitting malleus once but he doesn't even flinch.

"hello. it seems like I forgot to tell you."

ignoring the greeting in the beginning that probably responded to your hello that wasn't even meant to be one. you huff. seriously? it seems my ass,, it would've been nice, great even! if he told you days prior to her arrival. and not like.. hours before she does.

never did you expect to be introduced to someone's family member. based off the countless books you stuck your nose in, in general it's very,,, intimate? to be fair it's a very big step and you can't say you're ready for it.

what if she doesn't like you? you're literally this,,, human that doesn't have any strong titles or anything. just plain, boring and ordinary. you're only granted the privilege to be this close with malleus since you're only really the first person to show him kindness besides the people that grew up with him.

if it were someone else, would they be standing in your position right now? would they be the one being introduced into a slimmer of his personal life?

so you've heard. she is a very popular person, strong but kind. rough around the edges but she was a leader that briar valley needed. sebek often boasted about her. definitely not in the same tone that he uses with malleus but respect from sebek might as well be winning 1st place in a competition with thousands of other participants.

you aren't even scraping the surface of how hard it is to get it.

probably sensing your inner turmoil, and seeing the troubled look on your face malleus subconsciously leans in. to provide comfort, to become a shoulder you'd lean in without the royalty-commoner thing separating you two.

the look in his eyes softens. "what's wrong?" he asks you sincerely.

yeah what is wrong? it's not like you're in any place to care about her opinion anyways.. not at all.. you think stubbornly, sweatdropping at the amount of thoughts screeching about first impressions.

if you meet her then at the very least—you don't want her to hate you. because hating you means relaying the flaws she saw to malleus, then swaying him that you weren't worth it, then next thing you know you lost him.

I am totally calm. you think, not hearing his words.

malleus opens his mouth. closing it, opening it then repeat for a goon ten seconds. it's rare to see him pondering about what to say.

"you look like a fish." you say.

he wonders how you could be so calm when you looked close to walking out a second ago.

"that's impossible." he responds.

then there's silence. just comfortable silence that two people whose relationship peaked to achieve it have.

"don't worry. whatever she thinks, I still—you still will be my child of man." my grandmother. she certainly would have something to say of you.

but she once said that love is unexpected. sometimes it happens the least you expect it, it's unforgettable and it conquers everything else. if your love is strong then nothing will break it. she had told him, and if it were really true. he's sure his love for you knows no bounds.

warmth presses itself to your heart, it travels up to your brain till it forces it to make you smile. "thanks."

you put up an awkward thumbs up. "you'd be my tsunotaro forever too."

he smiles.

for you forever doesn't exist, to him it does.

a selfish part of him just wants you to stay with him till destiny's time is up. and if you want he'll give it right to you. for now he won't make the decision that isn't his right to. your mortality is a problem but no matter how much he wants to get rid of him it's not his choice.

he hopes your love for him is as strong as the one he has for you. but then again, he doesn't believe that the love he has for you is stronger than anyone else.

yes. he has all the time in the world to love you

note. even for just a sec it was really nice to write this. gasp, is this a calling for me?

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #x gn reader

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idiotcurls · 9 months

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IMAGINE THIS! Eddie is a musician, Steve is studying to become a teacher. Right before Steve's exams, he goes to a cafe to study. The Band arrives to play a gig and Eddie knocks over a glass of water with his guitar case.

Eddie has a up and coming band, they are playing small gigs all around the country. Even though they gathered up quite a following, they still haven't signed to any major label yet. Because they are not posers or whatever. The fans love Corroded Coffin, for the hard sounds with the clever thoughtful lyrics and also due to the fact that Eddie is a very charismatic frontman, who has the allure of an old timey rock star. Steve is sitting in the café, studying for his exams, writing frantically on his laptop, his glasses on the tip of his nose. Since he had a hard time in high school, he still thinks he is less than in the intellectual departmen, which is of course not true. And he has an amazing hand with the kids he is currently teaching, as student teacher. When Eddie and his band arrive at the venue, loud, all dressed in black leather, some instruments carried on their backs, he doesn't even look up. Steve was used to bands playing in the back of the venue. The café and bar area was only separated by a small glass door, so he was usually gone by the time, they got on the stage. But today the weather wasn't exactly on his side, he wasn't going to walk home in the pouring rain, risking a cold. It was too close to exam season. Eddie's hair was dripping wet, some of the droplets are running into his eyes. While Gareth is asking for someone to show them where to set up their stuff, Eddie ventures into the café area, to steal some napkins off a table. When he turns around to leave again, tapping over his eyes, the swing of his guitarcase knocks over a glass of water on a table behind him. Whos table you ask? Why, of course Steve Harrington's. What a terrible coincidence. Steve jumps up, shouting "FUCK" as he gathers up napkins trying to dry up the spilled water on his keypad. Startled by the cussing behind him, Eddie turns around and immediately recognises the damage he had caused. "Oh my god, I'm so fucking sorry, here, I'll get you more napkins, or a towel. Gareth!! Ask the waiter if he has a towel?!" Gareth looks up from his conversation with one of the staff member and just shakes his head in an annoyed fashion. Like Munson was up to some bullshit again and he wasn't going to be part of it.

Eddie is frantically bringing more napkins to the table, furthering Steve's annoyance at him. "Please.. just fucking stop, man." He is wiping his wet hands on his blue jeans looking at the laptop mournfully. "It's already fucking ruined. Shit." Steve sighs and walks around the table, a hand over his mouth, looking at the crime scene, wondering how he could afford another laptop that fast. But that long haired idiot, who knocked over his glass kept on babbling, ignoring the fact that Steve was in the middle of a crisis. "Listen, oh my god, I'm so sorry man. I read, that you shouldn't turn in on for bit after, uh, a spillage. Maybe it will dry? Or maybe we should put some rice on it? Maybe they have rice in the kitchen. Gareth?- My friend Nancy says that is bullshit, but-" "STOP! Please just go away." Steve sounded desprate. Eddie raised his hands in defeat, still holding some Napkins. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm with the band, who plays tonight. You can message us for a refund, or repair.", he says more calmly and walks away. Steve watches the young man walk back to his band members, he assumed, at least. They all wearing the same sort of clothes. "What are you doing with all those Napkins?", Jeff asks bemused. "Just shut up, man." Steve is close to tears. All of his notes and work he already did ahead of time were on the laptop. He did not safe them anywhere else. He grabs his coat and cigarette and leaves the café to have a smoke. If anyone wants to take any of his other stuff, they were free to do so, everything was ruined anyway. He watches the band carry all their amps and instruments in, from a little distance. There was a quick glance exchanged between him and that long haired idiot. He looks like a beaten puppy with those big sad eyes. Shit, now Steve felt like an asshole. Back inside, Steve waited for a while, to turn on his laptop, like the idiot had said. Meanwhile he was texting his best friend Robin the details of the worst evening in his life. She is sympathetic and hopeful, that the gods were in favour of his laptop. And while she didn't think Steve was the villain of the play, he might have been a bit harsh. They guy with the curls didn't do it on purpose, to ruin his life. After a while Steve breaths in deeply and exhales. He presses the on button. The laptops starts. He types in his password. Loading. All of his open tabs and word documents appear. The laptop was alive. He tries to write some words and all the keys work. A sigh of relieve. The gods had mercy on his computer in the end. After thanking the universe, Steve's eyes wander to the other side of the café. Behind the glass door, the band is setting up and starting to do some sound checking with the technician.

The idiot is holding his guitar, strumming a few chords and signing the thumbs up to the tech girl, who nods, looking bored. Now he is singing along to his chords, his eyes closed, like he is feeling the music or something. Steve finds, the idiot has a very beautiful voice. And a handsome face. He sighs. With that new information the apology is going to become even harder. When the band is done soundchecking and Eddie climbs off the stage, bickering and laughing with his band mates, Steve decides to go for it. "You can do this, dingus." pops up on his phone, before he puts it back into his pocket.

When Steve walks up to Eddie, the others are still rumaging around. Before Steve can open his mouth to say a single word, Eddie raises his hand. "Let me stop you there. I talked to the guys. We have a door-deal with the venue. Depending on how much money we make, you can have some of the money to pay for the repair." Eddie chuckles. "Now we just have to pray some people show up." Steve raises his left eyebrow, listening to him. "It's not like theres no people coming to our gigs, it's just that it's raining, and it's a weekday, people are at work..." Eddie is rambling again.

"Hey, can I say something too?" Steve chimes in, stern but not unkind. "Uh, sure." Eddie answers. "My laptop is fine. Everything works. I wanted to apologize for being a dick." Steve takes down his glasses and puts them on the top of his head. "I was just very stressed. You didn't do it on purpose." Eddie looks down and smiles. He seems shy.

"I'm a bit clumsy.... yeah." Steve finds it almost funny, that a guy like him, who just confidently sang on a stage, becomes shy like that. "Well, don't worry about it. I just thought... It's fine." Eddie looks up at him. "Why dont you stay for the set? Be our guest?" Steve does not answer. "I'll put you on my bar-tab. Stay and listen. Here- have a tape." Steve looks at the tape he got handed. "I don't have anything to play this on..." "Don't worry. I'll make it worth your while. Get a drink. We start in 20 minutes." Everything in Steve says, it's better to go home. Sleep and study. But he does stay for the set, to see the charaismatic idiot in action.

and then they fall in love or something.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fanfiction #stranger things #rockstar eddie #student steve #meet cute in a bar #eddie is clumsy #steve is annoyed

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brighttears · 7 months

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Home

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: Joel wakes up alone in your bed in your house in Jackson, only a few months in there, and does not know what to do without you there. When you get home, he figures it out.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: pet names (baby, my love, angel, good girl, perfect girl, darling), smut (minors dni), mutual masturbation, unprotected PiV, dirty talk, roughish?, creampie (joel wants to put a baby in you), size kink

A/n: some sweet nastiness that is all <3

—

Joel wakes up with a start, sucking in a breath, eyes, once the images from his nightmares have released them, flicking around the room, disoriented. All there is, though, is the white walls, littered with tasteful, plain paintings, hung by someone else. He feels the sheets under his hand, soft and light. Coming back to the present, relief washes over him, releasing his lungs. The feeling is fleeting though, and followed by hazy disconcertment. He’s still not used to this, waking up in a house. The place next to him in the bed is empty, a dip in the pillow still left from your head. Joel raises slowly, as he does these days, nothing to get up for, really, no pressing objective, no crisis to address. He wears socks, sweatpants, and t-shirt. He only just barely became accustomed to sleeping in something other than his full gear—jeans, shirt, jacket, even his boots. Ready for anything. But, again, there's nothing to be ready for in Jackson.

Joel sits up on the bed, planting his feet on the hardwood floors with a sigh. You’re not here, which he never likes, but he knows you’re safe, helping out in the kitchen before breakfast, like you do many mornings. You are also stuck on not having anything to do, and have yet to adjust to a sound sleeping schedule.

He raises to his feet to stand, not moving, not sure what to do now. He walks out of the bedroom, stopping again in the hallway, a bathroom and spare room doored along the wall with a staircase on the other side. He walks into the bathroom, clean and white. He stands in front of the mirror, blinking at his reflection. Another thing he’s still not used to. He looks tired. He always looks tired. Droopy skin, wrinkles and scars, dark circles stained under his eyes. Graying hair. Graying beard. The first time he got a good look of himself here it occurred to him that he’s too damn old for this. For all of it. But now… he’s safe. In a house. Waking up in a bed, a real bed, frame intact and all. But he doesn’t quite feel safe, normal, like the walls around him are. He feels alien. Like he doesn't belong.

He turns on the water and splashes it cold on his face, rubbing it off with a soft towel. He wanders back into the hall and starts down the creaky steps with heavy feet, running his hand down the smooth wood railing. At the bottom of the stairs, he’s stuck again. Nothing to do.

Joel drifts from room to room, aimlessly wandering around the house. Passing his eyes over more tastefully plain decorations that mean nothing to him, running his hands over clean surfaces, he feels utterly lost. A stray in a new home, though you’ve been here for a few months now. The sound of laughing children float in through the open window in the kitchen, reminding him again that he’s in Jackson, a peaceful commune, walled in, safe. The word still tastes sour in his mouth, as if he’s being fed fruit that looks fresh but is rotten.

He turns on the tap, lets it run, turns it off again. He misses you. You are his what to do. You are his direction, his plan, the one he looks to, stands by. You are what he does. Without you, he’s lost, lost in this big house.

The doorknob turning perks his ears up, and Joel walks straight to it before it’s even open, halting his feet before he reaches you, timorously as you enter, a small smile growing on your lips once you see him, eyes halfway bright like a struggling bulb.

“Hey,” you greet him softly.

“Hey,” he returns, drawing closer as you unlace your boots.

“You were at the kitchen?” He asks even though he knows the answer.

“Yeah—I didn’t wake you up when I left, did I?”

“No, I only got up a little bit ago.” He motions upstairs, nervously scratching the back of his neck. Little greetings like this, casual chit chat, is another thing to learn. He’s used to emergencies, calamities, sudden movements, things like that, not frivolous conversation, though he cherishes every word.

“Good. I never wanna wake you. You always look like you need the sleep,” you chuckle as you straighten, coming up to him to smooth your hands up his chest and around his neck, looking up at him with a wide smile, eyelids droopy, your soft expression rolling a smile upon his own lips. “You look good in sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

Joel chuckles, wrapping his hands around your waist and rubbing them up and down your back. He sighs, then whispers, “I missed you.”

“It’s been less than 12 hours,” you chuckle, matching his quiet tone, idling eyes over his features filling his chest, though he’s watched it a hundred times, “but I missed you too.” You press a gentle kiss to his lips, and with his eyes closed, he hears you say, so soft it sounds like it’s only the air itself whispering, “My love.” Joel sighs, your words like clean air pumping back into his lungs. He kisses you again, unable to help himself, like it’s simply the next thing to do.

That feeling of disorientation and misplacement is gone now. Because you are here. You are absolutely his rock, his meaning, his reasoning, his purpose. The world makes sense only when you are there, here, in his arms, your lips bringing him back to the ground. And now, he loves this house, your new home, though it doesn't look like it yet. But you are here. So he is home. Within walls, a roof over your head, a bed to lay in, a table to eat at together. A couch to lounge on. A bathroom to shower in together. And somewhere were you can fuck however loud you want. That is another fortuitous plus of Jackson, he can finally hear your moans in their full capacity, hear you scream his name, beg for more, your sounds a new addition to all the things about you to be addicted to. No burying those sweet refrains in the palm of his hand or some filthy mattress.

The first time you broke in the bed, Joel could felt like he might actually believe in god. And you get to do it whenever you want, every night, all throughout the day, like you’ve rediscovered it, and can now appreciate it in all its glory.

You are also allowed slow moments, like this, defenses down, closed eyes and relaxed limbs, wandering, oh, the hallowed lingering, Joel is cognizant of every moment, treasuring the time he used to agonize over, all that wishing for something like this, just, time, and here it is, in his arms.

Joel eases you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you to press your body until it’s flush with his, burying his face in your neck, inhaling, and exhaling, “I love you so much, baby.” Your body configures perfectly with his, like two pieces of a puzzle, and he cocoons you as if to mesh you together permanently. Your hand tangles in his hair, the other smoothing around his neck, and you whisper back, “I love you more than anything, Joel.” He breathes your words in again, feeling his brow furrow up like he could cry.

Yes, it’s strange here, sometimes perturbing, so completely unknown, and it’s been a battle to let his guard down, but he has some; he’s cried more times in the few months you’ve been here than he has in years. The first time, it was because of something like this. Lying in bed, unhurried, roaming hands, rolling together like slow waves, room for ease, for sluggish touch, oh god, the relaxation, words simply falling out, endless I love you’s, and you whispered in his ear, “I love you more than anything,” and he cried. And you held him, and reminded him that he could, and he cried hard, like a child, and you cradled him like one.

It’s because he can now, can allow himself to feel fully, and be allowed to release it, into someone's arms, into yours. Safe. Home.

He sways you slowly in his arms, pressing soft kisses over neck and shoulder. You told him you loved him for the first time years ago, but then, what mostly filled him was fear. Despair. Loving you, having you love him, was not very beautiful, because it meant pain. Always pain. He knew the love was immortal, but the two of you are not. Who would he rather die first, him, leaving you alone out here, or you, leaving him with that gaping wound? Every close call was like taking an ax to the poles that held the world up over his head, watching it swing, only barely missing the thing that kept all the wood and rock and sky from crashing down. But, you made it to Jackson. And now, that fear has been reeled back in, and the charm and grace of being in love has been unearthed. The I love you’s were caked in fear before. Now, they’re pure.

“I love you more.” He smiles into your shoulder, knowing the response he’ll get, which is an annoyed hum and a quick step on his foot.

“Stop saying that. It’s not fair.” You whine, muffled in his chest, though he can feel the smile on your lips.

“Alright, alright,” he murmurs, chuckling. You pull back to look at him and he lets his hands rest on your arms, watching you.

“I really did miss you.” You say quietly, “I’m still not used to not being with you all the time.”

“Me neither.” He mumbles, looking over your face. The face of an angel, that’s what ran through this mind the first moment he saw you. An angel with a rifle and a smile that could make even the roughest man swoon. Something sent from god to show him why he needs to keep going, why he’s here—to protect, to love.

He was digging from the bottom of the barrel when you met, relying on old phrases that had kept him going for years, focused on Tommy, but the lens was getting dirty, and he found his movements starting to slow. But then you came along, and he was rejuvenated. Ready again to do whatever it takes. For you. For Tommy. To keep you and to find him. And he’s done it. Now all there is to do is to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Spending time with his brother, going on double dates with him and his wife, walking around town hand in hand with you, and fucking like rabbits.

You hum a sigh, tucking a curly lock behind his ear and letting your hand rest there on his face. “We’ve still got some time before they start serving food. I wanted to come back here so we could go together.” You chuckle, “I don’t know what to do until then. Still not used to idle time.”

The thoughts rolling around behind his eyes slip out through his hands, traveling up the back of your shirt, and he smiles, “I have an idea.” You chuckle as he brings his face close to yours, ghosting your lips with his. No more quick and harsh, no need to rush.

“Don’t tease me,” you breathe out, hooking your wrists around his neck to pull his kiss. He obliges, sliding his arms around your waist to bring you close once more. You press yourself closer, deepening the kiss with a mewling moan, a sound that never fails to get him hard. A moan rumbles from his throat as he crosses his arms around your waist to pull you against him, starting to grind his hips. You pull in a breath, parting your lips for only a moment before you lick back into his mouth.

“Where d’you wanna go with this?” Joel mumbles into your lips, sliding his hands up to hook his thumbs over your shirt to start to pull it off.

“We haven’t fucked on the couch in awhile, huh?” You reply, shifting back to help him to unclothe you.

“We have not.” Joel smiles, shamelessly staring at your bare chest, bringing your breast into his hand as he pulls you back against him instead, kissing sloppy and wet. You start to walk backwards and around to the couch, and he chases you with his touch. You turn him for his back to be to the couch, then shove your hand into his chest to push him down on it before coming up to straddle him. “Goddamn,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, and you smile into his lips. You start your hand on his lower torso, gracefully sliding your hand under his shirt to pull it up his chest. Your touch over his skin sends shivers up after it, that giddy feeling that makes him feel young again making him sigh. Even after all this time, you still manage to make him feel shy about what you can do to him, how head over heels he is. Eagerly, he follows your lead and pulls his shirt up over his head, leaning forward once it’s off to find your lips again and then pull your hips over his. You start to roll them, placing your hands back around his neck, and Joel’s fingers dig into your thighs, reminding him that you still have too many clothes on. He starts to unbutton your jeans, and you raise to your feet to take them off, him rushing to pull own his bottoms off. Swift movements on both ends to get naked so that you can come back over him and start to grind your hips again. He’s already hard enough for his cock to be raised up over his stomach, the lack of stimulation raising another deep moan from him. You reply with your hand around him, using your thumb to drag his precum down, and his lips part, toes curling at the touch on his sensitive tip. You take the hint, keeping your pumps close to the top, and he rolls up into it, moans escaping from a mouth he can’t close.

“That feel good baby?” You whisper.

“Ahuh,” is all he can get out, eyes closed, and then your tongue on his neck creates a melody of breathy moans from him. In response, Joel opens his eyes to find where to slide his fingers into, your slit already slick for him, and he moans out, “Baby,” raising his gaze to lock on yours as you pleasure each other on his lap.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, then slowly let your hand fall down to his base to grip and then pull up just as slow, starting long pumps up and down his length. Joel’s eyes close again as they roll back into his head, leaning back against your other hand still around the back of his neck.

“Joel,” you whine, and he knows what you want without you needing to tell him, moving his hands to grip your hips and help you raise them as you line up his thick cock with your entrance. You sit down on it slowly, adjusting to his size. Both of your bodies relax with each other, once again united in this way that feels so right, feels so good, and Joel starts to move like his body tells him he needs to, and then like you tell him he needs to, quiet begging that runs more chills through him despite your warmth now around him. He buries himself deep with you sat securely on his lap, fingers digging into your thighs, eyes closed, like it’s the first time again, fucking an angel gently, feeling like you were made just for him, fitting him so perfectly, your limit just around his tip.

“S’ okay baby?” He mumbles, like he does every time, the question coming out with much thought.

“Yes,” you reply, voice just as lazy, rolling your hips forward to tell him more, his body replying with anything you want as he lifts you to give him room to fuck into you. “Yes,” you repeat, sliding your hands onto his arms without a break in contact over his skin.

A refrain of moans arises from your mouths, and his eyes are locked on your open mouth. As he quickens his pace, he relishes in your expressions, furrowed brow, your shoulders and chest moving up and down as your voice carries louder, displaying your tits. He takes a hand off of your hip to massage your chest, amazed still that he gets to touch you, gets to fuck you, that he’s the one that gets to hear you, make you feel good like this, that it’s his name that comes out of you, that you want him. That he gets to give you everything you want, anything you ask him for, which is more, harder, and that you want exactly what he does. Skin slapping skin echoes throughout your house, chorused with louder moans as he thrusts harder and faster, feeling himself hit your limit over and over. You lean forward to reunite your lips, messy sucking and licking and biting, needy and hungry for each other. Joel raises his grip to your sides, stilling so that you can fuck him yourself.

“Fuck, baby, s’ good,” Joel voices, wet and mumbled, “you’re such a fuckin’ angel, such a good girl for me, pussy’s fuckin’ heavensent, I swear,”

“All for you,” you reply as you start a rhythm with your ass, “I’m yours, baby, I’m yours,” and there again is Joel’s belief in god.

“S’ good, baby, s’ good,” he mumbles, eyes closed, brow furrowed, aahing as your tight sheath strokes his cock. He splays his hands over your ass, requesting control again to match your movements with his own, fucking up into you again. “S’ good, you feel so fuckin’ good. Perfect lil’ pussy. My perfect girl. You’re so perfect, you’re so perfect.”

Your moans heighten in his ear, fingers digging into his biceps. “I’m gonna cum, Joel,” you say into his ear, voice lilting with his clapping beat.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah,” you trill.

“Go on n’ cum for me baby, cum for me,”

Moans catch and tumble from your throat, and he wraps his arm around your back to pull you close, fitting the side of his face against your neck. His other hand still guides your ass to deepen his rowdy thrusts as he speaks, “I wanna feel all ‘f you, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel your pussy squeeze around my cock, cum for me darlin’,” Joel says, lips pressed against your neck. Your voice sings chirping moans as your body starts to tremble and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Only half aware of what he’s saying, overcome mostly by the feeling of you cumming on his dick, thighs quivering against his sides with your crying moans in his ear, Joel mewls, “I wanna make a baby with you, I wanna make a baby with you,” and you hang onto him like you’re on the outside of a ten story building and he’s the only thing saving you from flying off of it, like you’re hanging on for dear life, wrists crossed with both hands gripping his hair. “God, baby, you feel so good, fuck,” he whines breathily, then grabbing your ass with both hands to tug up and pull you back down on him as euphoric pressure builds inside of him, blocking out most of everything other than your pussy’s tight trembling strokes around his cock. His hips buck almost involuntarily, and he’s ready to cum, needing it, in this moment wanting nothing more. “I’m gonna cum, baby,” he tells you, feeling that white electricity of pleasure building to its climax.

“Cum for me, baby,” you breathe into his ear, fingers tugging his hair with every thrust. With your encouragement in his ear, he loses all control, now requiring you, and he wraps his hands around your lower back to hold your hips down and pump himself into you.

“I love you, I love you,” the words spill out of his lips as his hips buck, acting out of pure instinct as he cums. You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, locking his gaze as you tell him, “I love you Joel, I love you, cum inside of me, I want your cum, fuck me,” Joel’s eyes roll back with them still open, “that’s it, baby, I want it all, cum inside of me,” filling his ears as he does as you ask, as if he could do anything else, nothing else in his head but your words and the pure euphoric pleasure as he cums.

As his strokes slow and he comes back onto earth, moaning, you lean back to sit on him as he continues to pulsate inside of you.

“Baby,” you drawl, sliding your hands to cradle his face as you kiss his lips. Joel’s hands wander up and down your back and sides, relishing in the touch.

“Angel,” he replies, and you hum a sigh into the kiss.

“You’d think this would get old eventually, with how much we’re fucking doing it,” you chuckle into his lips, “but I swear, it gets better every time.”

“We’ll be fuckin’ professionals in a couple months,” he replies, making both of you laugh.

“There’s still some things we haven’t tried,” you say.

“Well we’ll get to em’.”

“We sure will.” You chuckle, smacking a kiss to his lips before leaning back. “I’m sure breakfast is ready by now. Better get up before Tommy or Maria come to check on us and catch us like this.”

“Yeah,” Joel sighs, still slipping his fingers up and down your sides. “I’m fuckin’ starvin’ now, anyways. I’m old, this shit takes it outta me.”

You chuckle, teasing, “Are you complaining?”

“Fuck no,” he replies, pulling you back in for a kiss, “hell fuckin’ no.”

“Good.” You chuckle again, sighing into a sloppy kiss before leaning back again, and with another sigh, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you more, angel.” He smiles, laughing when you slap his chest.

“Fuck off!” You laugh back, then climbing off of him to grab your shirt off the floor and pull it back on. Joel learns forward to reach for his pants, moving slow to watch you change back into your clothes. Catching him, you smirk, pulling your panties back up slowly, teasingly, for him to watch. He feels his lips part, realizing that you’re gonna have his cum leaking into them all day, like a secret just for him. A secret that’s going to tease him all day, and then when you get home tonight, he’ll slide those panties right back down to fill you up again. As you snap the band around your waist, you look at him like you know exactly what you’re doing, and exactly what he’s going to do about it later. As a cherry on top, you press a kiss to his cheek before turning around to pull your pants on. Joel chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he stands to dress.

“You gonna go to breakfast like that?” You question, turning to him.

Joel looks down at himself, realizing his still in sweatpants. “Why not? Not like anyone’s gonna care. Plenty of people go to breakfast in their pj’s. I’ll come back and change after.”

“Fair enough.” You shrug, “You look real good like that anyways.”

Joel smiles, chuckling and little shyly. This morning, the disorganization and looseness of life in Jackson felt intimidating, but now that you’re here, he can appreciate the freedom. Life is fucking good, he thinks to himself as he watches you tie your shoes, knowing he hasn’t had any thought like that in decades. Loud morning sex with you and a freshly cooked meal in his pj’s is something he can definitely learn to get used to.

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getvalentined · 18 days

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Getting back on my Zack Is Canonically Polyamorous soapbox because the people need to know and also the number of people accusing Aerith of being unfaithful in Rebirth is absolutely fucking ridiculous when taking Zack's romantic escapades into account.

There are spoilers here, and I'm tagging accordingly, but I'm not putting it under a cut.

We know for a fact that Zack is in a relationship with Aerith. We've known this since the OG, although we didn't know most of the details back then, just that they were together. In Remake, Aerith describes Zack as her "first love." In Chapter 11 of Rebirth, the first memories of Zack that Cloud reclaims are of him talking about how great Aerith is, and Cloud describes him as being "head over heels" for her. In Chapter 8, we found out that Zack's parents were able to recognize her based entirely on Zack gushing about her when he wrote home—and this is one of the most important parts, honestly.

Zack has a thing with Cissnei. We don't know how deep it is, but throughout Crisis Core (and even in the summer event in Ever Crisis) we can see very clearly that there is something between them, and it's never treated like a big deal. She's never completely honest about her feelings, so we can assume he didn't know that she saw him as anything more than a casual thing, but they have a relationship. It's made explicitly clear that this is the case when Zack returns to Gongaga and she lets him know that she's spoken to his parents, and he warns her that they're basically going to suggest that she marry him.

Zack's parents know about his relationship with Aerith and they also apparently know enough about his relationship with Cissnei to suggest that she make that relationship "official." They want her to join the family. They asked, she apparently reciprocated, and she lives in Gongaga after Veld is "killed."

Cissnei is also aware that Zack is in a relationship with Aerith, but that doesn't stop her from pursuing him anyway. She gets it and she's okay with it. She never, at any point, tries to push him away from Aerith—she's the one that tells him how special Aerith is, how important, how lonely. She's supportive of his relationship, and doesn't seem to feel that it makes her own feelings or their relationship any less valid.

Okay, so that's proof that the people around him are, at the very least, okay with him having multiple partners. That doesn't necessarily mean he's poly, though, maybe he's just a womanizer and everyone accepts it. Weird, but possible. He's really endearing so maybe they all give him a pass.

But no! No this isn't it at all! And we know it because of how Zack responds to Aerith being in love with someone else in Rebirth. When he finds out that Aerith is has feelings for Cloud, there's not a hint of jealousy in a single thing he does or says. He's disappointed when Marlene says it's because he wasn't there, but it's not disappointment in Aerith or in Cloud—it's disappointment in himself, because Marlene is right. He wasn't there. He couldn't protect her. There's also no spite there, he never responds like her feelings are wrong because he's here now and that means Aerith can rely on him again, and we know that because of how he responds to this information.

Zack finds out that Aerith has feelings for Cloud, and his immediate mission is to make sure that Cloud recovers as quickly as possible. Now it's not just for him, it's not just because that's his friend, it's because Aerith loves him (too) and that means he has to save Cloud for both of them.

He's fully supportive of Aerith and Cloud having a relationship, to the point that the last thing he says to Cloud when he gets thrown into a dying timeline is a request that he take care of Aerith. He's not exactly passing the torch here, because he's still alive—but he doesn't know if he'll be able to meet back up with a version of Cloud that is awake again, and he needs Cloud to know that he supports them in this.

And then, in the dying timeline where Zack is banished after fighting Sephiroth, he has the ability to synergize with Cloud from across the multiverse. The DMW limit break connected to Aerith is active in the space. All three of them are together here, just not physically; Cloud and Aerith are protecting Zack as much as Zack has been struggling to protect them.

Zack loves that Aerith loves someone other than him because that's how he is too. Zack has multiple relationships at the same time, he loves multiple people at the same time, he has emotionally intimate connections with multiple people at the same time. Why would he take issue with the love of his life feeling the same way?

Cloud isn't his replacement any more than Cissnei and Aerith are interchangeable, and Zack understands that, because Zack is polyamorous—and he's really happy that Aerith may be, too.

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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Reader burning herself (neck area) with her straightener or something and Hotch thinking it's a hickey that HE didn't leave, he doesn't straight up accuse reader or lash out though. (I also love jealous Hotch)

Aaron's fingers were picking desperately at once another, a nervous habit that he hadn't ever encountered before. His nails were splitting from how much he'd been poking and prodding at them throughout the day, but now that he was finally in bed, hearing you shuffle around in the bathroom, it was worse.

It was worse, because you'd come to bed in your shorts and t-shirt. And he wouldn't have the gracious, but flimsy cover of your turtleneck to pretend he hadn't seen what he'd seen.

He knew that he left a lot to be desired in a romantic partner. Hell, in a partner of any kind. He was stubborn, grouchy, and scarred. He was not young, wild, or free. He had obligations, reservations, and issues. So, when he'd spotted the unfamiliar hickey on your neck earlier, he had been disappointed but not surprised.

It was on your sweet spot, too. Whoever had given it to you had clearly known what they were doing. Aaron's lips curled into his mouth, his teeth digging into them as he envisioned another man's lips over the spot he kissed so often.

He hadn't even realized he'd been zoning out until he heard a sharp hiss come from the bathroom, his brows furrowing as he waited for an explanation. Even betrayed by you, he worried for your safety.

"Babe?" The word felt heavy on his tongue, and he knew it might very well be the last time he referred to you with it, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," You sounded anything but, peering warily out at him from the bathroom door, "I got hot water on my burn, 's all."

"Your burn?" Aaron sat forward, peering at your face to see what spot you'd accidentally grazed over with the washcloth, "Where?"

"Um," You gestured broadly to your neck, "Did you not happen to notice the massive welt on my throat?"

"A.. A burn?" Aaron felt his mouth dry out, tongue somehow heavier in relief than it had been in crisis, "It's a burn?"

"Yes," You giggled softly, "You thought you did that?"

"No, I just-" Aaron shook his head, tension leaking out of his frame as he smiled sheepishly at you, "What happened? How'd you burn yourself?"

"Straightener." You mumbled, pressing gently against the red mark on your skin and hissing once more, "Fuck, that hurts."

"Stop touching it, then!" Aaron scoffed lightheartedly, "Just finish washing your face and come to bed, Y/N. I need a hug."

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lutawolf · 8 months

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My Personal Weatherman and the D/s element Ep 4

If you haven't read the others, they can be found here.

Ahhh, nothing gets me going like a sub wearing what their Dom picked out. That subtle ownership. Why yes, I do pick out all my husband's clothes except the dreaded work clothes. I refuse to take the blame for those tacky things.

Right off, we can easily see that this is not an M/s situation. The fact that Segasaki is asking Yoh what he wants to do, tells us exactly what we need to know. Yoh is explaining what he is going to do. That is not something a slave would ever even think to do. We can easily tell that he is a subby sub though, cause when Segasaki brings out the Dom, Yoh eases back.

OMG, that chin grab! @bl-bam-beyond pretty please gif that chin grab.

That chin grab with the "No." Ugh, how all my lovely subs doing? Are you still here? Have you been able to finish the show? Or are you stuck here on rewind?

Yoh actually questions Segasaki as to why not. Anybody still thinking Yoh a slave? Cause not to be rude, I can't fix stupid. This boy, a brat. Fuck, this whole scene is really showcasing their dynamic. "But we made a promise." "Tell her that you can't go anymore. Do it. Do you even know why you are in this house." And once again, we're back at the misunderstanding stage.

A fangirl, I see. OMG, this is adorable. Yoh is like, sure. Let's look at the tie of my Dom, bestie.

Yoh calling with Segasaki standing over him. This episode is killing me in the best possible way. Don't revive me! (No! I have not taken my ADHD meds, don't judge me!) "I was ordered to stay home." Hahahaha! Then the ahhhh, after he tells her that he will make it up to her. Letting you know he was likely just punished by Segasaki. Yes, my mind went here.

Then the reward of the head pat, "you did good."

youtube

She showed up to check on him! Woot! Haha, she is about to find out who is boyfriend is. Hahaha. I'm dying. Meanwhile, his boyfriend is like, "guess it's time for a face off." Ya'll I'm not okay. I'm laughing so hard.

And Yoho stepped over a line and got put in his place. But he is too busy having a crisis to care! 🤣🤣🤣 Her face is my favorite.

That effortless lie. He wasn't feeling well. Uh huh. I love these two dumbass friends. I need sake too!!! I'm dying. Shit, I can't breathe through the laughter.

Now it's Yoh's turn to be jealous. Ahh, he got drunk and fell asleep on the floor. The places we find comfortable when we are drunk.

Nope, he doesn't want to go to the bed. I love the outer dialogue we are getting. I really enjoy that we get Yoh's side of things and from his perspective, but this rounds it out a bit for me.

And look at that beautiful smile when Segasaki finds out she's married. "Are you in your rebellious phase." Does this sound familiar to certain people whom I will not mention by name!?! Hmmm! Brats! Stop breaking my heart! Make him stop Segasaki, make him stop!

Fuck, I love these two so much. Everything he is describing is very much a Brat Tamer. Bossy but gentle. Controlling but caring. Charming and unreasonable. Brat Tamer.

The way his squishes Yoh's face! Ahhh, these two are gonna kill me!

"It would be nice if you stayed drunk forever." Because of the honesty. Segasaki likes Yoh's quirks, but he also wants the honesty and the connection.

I need the curry story now! But apparently, I must wait. Heavy sigh.

Hope you guys enjoyed this! Let me know in the tags if you did. 💜💜💜 See you next time.

#my personal weatherman #taikan yoho #segasaki x yoh #luta talks my personal weatherman #luta talks kink #coconuts mafia #Youtube

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dairy-farmer · 26 days

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Jason's life had always been about fighting. He had to survive domestic abuse with his piece of shit father and suffering from addiction mom. Than he chose to fight for innocent people, when Bruce adopted him. After he died, fighting was all he had left. It never even occurred to him to try and start a new life as a civilian.

Then, after suffering from headaches, nausea and fainting for some time, Tim went through examination and found out that he has a brain tumor. He underwent a surgery and was left with a horrible outcome: he couldn't move, talk, take care of himself.

Bruce found him a nurse, because no one could be there the whole time with him. When Bruce introduced them and softly explained to Tim that the woman is going to be his caretaker, Tim turned pale, his breathing got shallow and his body started shaking. Bruce had to ask nurse to leave, only after Tim calmed down.

Jason honestly doesn't know, how Bruce expected Tim to trust with his life to a complete stranger, considering the business they were in. It was obvious that they needed to find someone, who he already knew. In the meantime they will take turns taking care of him. Except that didn't work out as well. Damian was a kid, who tried to kill Tim, do he was out of question from the start, Alfred had too many responsibilities, and Dick and Bruce had emergencies constantly. The first time Dick called Jason to ask to sit with him for a few hours, feed him, etc, Jason wasn't happy about it, but he had no problem with Tim. Poor kid didn't ask to suffer so much, so Jason spoonfed him, read him a book, talked at him about his adventures with the Outlaws, joked about Dick and his poor choices. He even made Tim smile weakly.

Next time he was asked to play nurse, he was ready. Tim's face light up when he saw him, and Jason thought that it's not all bad.

"Hey Timmy, ready to hear more about miss Bennet's adventures?"

At some point Jason just... Stopped leaving. He made it his goal to make Tim smile as much as he could. He fed him, watched movies with him, read to him. Suddenly Tim Drake was like the center of his universe. Sometimes Dick, Bruce or Alfred would take over for him for a couple of hours, but usually it was just the two of them.

One time Dick started talking about his weekend with his friends, things that they did, Tim got upset, so Jason shut him down. Then Damian started making comments about Tim's slow recovery, even though there was progress: Tim was able to sit now, talk using monosyllabic words, even feed himself slowly on his own. Though he still was tired all the time, still had headaches. Dick with his fun stories about normal life without health issues and Damian with his comments didn't help with Tim recovery. Besides, Bruce was frustrated because of another crisis.

That's why Jason decided to pack their things and move to a safe house. Tim looked relieved, which only cemented Jason's decision.

During the first week on their own they were faced with a problem: in the manor Alfred bathed Tim, because he was still physically too weak to do it on his own. So Jason had to do it. No problem, even though sounds a little awkward.

That was when things changed. Jason was soaping his body, when he thought for the first time, how soft and smooth Tim's skin is. When he was massaging Tim's scalp, Tim moaned, his pink lips slightly parted. After they were done, Jason helped Tim get in the bed, went to shower to get himself clean and finally relaxed, letting hot water wash over him, when he touched himself to the memory of Tim's body.

It was like they build a heaven just for the two of them. Jason helped Tim to get to the bathroom, went to a store to buy groceries, called out "I'm home", when he was back, then started to cook. Tim was slowly relearning how to do things on his own. They spend time doing something together. They went to sleep separately. It would have been perfect, if only Jason didn't fall in love with Tim and this civilian life they were living.

Things changed again, when Jason helped Tim into bed after bath and was ready to go jerk off in the shower, when Tim stopped him and asked if he could help him. Jason, confused, didn't get it. Tim touched his cock through his sweatpants, and Jason groaned. Then he finally kissed him.

this is so cuutee!!! 🥺🥺🥺 the way that jason takes over taking care of tim when he's not able. the way jason learns how to best care for tim, gets attuned to his feelings, realizes that the best way to help him is get him out of the manor.

then jason growing attracted to tim and the private little life they now have together!!!!!hiding his attraction to tim but then tim catching on and reciprocating!!!!!🥰🥰🥰🥰

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #jaytim

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nintendont2502 · 4 months

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cant find the original post but a while ago i impulsively decided to add all 32 sburb players (betas, alphas, alternians *and* beforans) to a random name generator and then randomly mix them up - characters kept their original first name and class, and took on the last name and aspect of whatever character they took the role of. this was just meant to be a funny 1am experiment so i could laugh at the cursed results

...yeah it has lore now. i cant stop thinking about it. help.

Beta Kids:

Gamz Egbert (Gamzee) - Bard of Breath. One of the most chill guys ever. Constantly zoned the hell out. Loves clowns :0) him and his dad bond over it. Hangs out with Kari a lot over vc, where it's basically just Kari talking at him uninterrupted (the kid needs it sometimes)

Kari Strider (Kankri) - Seer of Time. Gifted kid and he won't let you forget it. Permanently lives in a sweater vest even though he literally lives in Texas. Constantly annoyed by how childish and immature his older brother is. Lectures him a lot. Lectures his friends a lot. Has 'visions of his past lives' (aka occasional memories from his post-scratch/alternate timeline counterparts). Lectures his friends about how theyre real and valid whenever they make give him shit for it (which happens a lot). Dedicated pacifist - for now, anyway.

John Lalonde - Heir of Light. Golden child. Has an over-bearing mother that constantly pushes him into learning instruments/lanugages/skills, participating in competitions and events, winning award after award. Sure, he's... kinda sick of doing things all day every day, and he doesn't really want to do any of this, but... shouldn't he do it anyway? Even if just for his Mom? Hell, he can't really complain about it, right? He has such a good life! He goes horseback riding every sunday! Sure, it sucks that he doesn't have any free time that isn't controlled by his mother, but he can deal with it. It's fine.

(Things get even worse during the three year trip when Wuh Oh! Gender crisis time! Except he can’t be a girl because he was always meant to be his mom’s perfect son, and he’s already let her down once by letting her die, right? He can just… live with this. Its fine. It's not that bad. It's for her, after all.)

Roxy Harley - Rogue of Space. Grew up living on a small island somewhere in the Pacific that her grandfather 'won in a poker game' (aka probably scammed someone out of, knowing him) - or so he says, anyway. He also used to say he got Roxy the same way every time she asked where she came from! Haha very funny Roxy definitely loved hearing that and not a real response every time she asked where she came from and why she didn’t have any parents. That was great. Her grandfather died when she was fairly young, leaving her alone on the island with nothing left of him but the small inventions he left around the place to make life easier for her. She grows up learning how to maintain them, and although she tries becoming a great inventor like her grandfather, she just... doesn't have the skill. Hacking, on the other hand - shes great at that shit! She finally cracks her final goal - cracking into her grandfathers servers - just before her friend Gamz's 13th birthday, finding mostly boring shit - expenses, customer complaints, legal threats, budgets, etc. What's mildly more interesting to her, however, is the insane amount of money (if they lived on the mainland, they'd be fucking LOADED), and a .exe file for a really cool looking game, with a note from her grandfather congratulating her on finally getting in. And hey, would you look at that? Its multiplayer! And all her friends are free - even John, who through sheer coincidence found himself with a free weekend after his tutors came down with various mysterious illnesses and injuries. It's like the universe wants them to play the game or some shit! Haha wild

Alpha Kids:

Raph Crocker (Rufioh) - Rogue of Life. The living embodiment of all those business major memes. Dude is *dedicated* to the Crockercorp brand - he's determined that one day, he'll climb the ranks and become head of the company, and hopefully lead it just as well as his great-grandfather did. He unironically wears a suit everywhere, and seems committed to sounding like a 50 year old boardroom exec trapped in the body of a 16 year old - although it isn't hard to get him to crack. As much as he pretends he has no patience for his online friends and their constant stories of 'living on a remote island' or 'living in the post-apocalyptic future' (seriously guys, he isn't that gullible), he does genuinely care about them. Besides, when you're stuck in the house all day, there isn't much else to do.

Tuna Strider (Mituna) - Heir of Heart. Trans king. Exudes pure 'disney channel older brother' energy. Shithead (affectionate). Looks up to his Bro, a famous pacifist who resisted the Batterwitch's rule with a global peaceful protest... only to be killed the moment he became too much of a threat. Yyeah. Tuna has... some thoughts about how that should have gone down - most of them involving swords. Or guns. Or both. Maybe if his Bro had a sweet katana, the world wouldn't have been flooded! Although it's too late for his Bro, Tuna has decided to take up the fight in his stead by creating his own 'sick as fuck gun-sword' with whatever scrap metal he can find in the apartment (his Bro, for some reason, didn't think to leave him any useable weapons. cringe). He's got the sword part down great, but the gun... not so much.

Vris Lalonde (Vriska) - Thief of Void. The second half of the 't4t post apocalypse chaos squad', as Tuna calls them. Girl doxxes people for fun - what are they gonna do? Doxx her back? lmao good luck with that losers - closest youre gonna get is still 400 years off. Constantly daring her friends to do stupid shit and quote, 'stop being so fucking boringggg'. it usually works on tuna. sometimes on dave. she still hasnt gotten raph yet, but *one day*...

Dave English - Knight of Hope. smooth talking mile a minute inventor who *loves* trying to 'pitch' his latest invention to his friends. its become almost a game to them, where theyll take turns bidding increasingly ridiculous amounts for an umbrella that shoots seeds ('for easy planting in the rain yknow') or a beat-boxing robot ('i dont even need to explain this one just look at it man. cool as shit'). hell, even raph gets involved sometimes, usually turning it into a shark tank style negotiation. dave swears hes keeping a tally of how much everyone 'owes' him, and claims that one day hes settling that bill. his inventions are genuinely pretty impressive, especially considering his limited resources - being stuck alone on a remote island makes sourcing parts pretty hard. he probably wouldnt even need to jokingly scam his friends in order to jokingly sell his inventions - they jokingly sell themselves. he just thinks scamming people is fun.

Alternia Rapid Fire Round lets goo

Cronus Megido - Bard of Time. relentlessly flirts with anyone of a higher caste than him in the hopes that, if he can get into a quadrant with them, he'll have more protection than he would as just a solo rustblood. this strategy ultimately fails when he flirts with a particular Serket one too many times and gets killed for it. damn. oh well.

Sollux Nitram - so so tired of everyones shit. the only person that actually vaguely got along with Cronus (because he was the only person that Cronus didn't flirt with). just wants to play his pokemon in peace man stop dragging him into drama

Damara Captor - Witch of Doom. 'curses' people. seems weirdly unsurprised when those curses actually work. after cronus' death, a rumour went around that she was the one who caused it, and she absolutely wasnt denying that shit - now no one wants to fuck with her, and those that do? well, she still has her psiionics.

Meulin Vantas - Mage of Blood. Basically the only fucking thing holding this friendship group together. Despite all the complicated as shit relationships - the friendships, the exes, the mortal enemies, the attempted (and successful) murders - Meulin somehow manages to navigate the web of relationships and keep everyone relatively stable

Jaydee Leijon (Jade) - Witch of Heart. catgirl :33. Wishes she lived closer to everyone so she could see them 33: especially her moirail!! at least she still has her lusus to playfight with

Karkat Maryam - Knight of Space. basically a tboy vampire. Used to live in the caverns, but after he realised he was a dude, he began to feel uncomfortable with how oppressive and 'feminine' the caverns were. ran away. struggles with his identity - the contrast between the typical female jadeblood standards of being caring and nurturing, and the typical alternian female standards of being violent and aggressive, leave him stuck in the middle, unsure of what to do or who hes 'allowed' to be. swings wildly between being aggressive and letting himself care about his friends. he eventually figures out that gender stereotypes are bullshit and he can care abt his friends and still be a dude. hes still an asshole though <3

Eridan Pyrope - Prince of Mind. Incredibly committed to a strict moral code - which... no one can figure out. it seems to vary wildly depending on what suits him best at the specific moment. Used to roam Alternia looking for 'criminals' to 'improve' or, if that failed, 'bring to justice' with one Serket, but after an incident involving the loss of three eyes and one arm... they arent exactly on speaking terms.

Dyrrhk Serket (Dirk) - Prince of Light. i dont know how else to say it this mfer makes saw traps. he claims its to 'improve' people - by putting them through some specific trap, it... fixes a percieved issue? even if its an issue only he can see. and if they die in the trap? well, they should have just tried harder right. they probably deserved it. he isnt even doing this out of a desire to hurt people hes *genuinely* convinced that what hes doing is helping, and thinks that this is the best way to go about it. puts eridan through one one day, resulting in the loss of his vision, and after he (finally) figured out that 'huh maybe that wasnt a good idea', he... apologises. lmao just kidding that would be too reasonable - instead he mind controls one of his friends into putting *dyrrhk* into a trap of his own design, resulting in the loss of an eye and an arm. he seems genuinely convinced that this should make them even. everythings fine now, right? he scares me just on a conceptual level

Tavros Zahhak - Page of Void. hes basically a himbo im ngl. hes tall hes ripped hes clumsy and he cant help but draw attention to himself wherever he goes - attention he *hates*. moirails with jaydee. theyre cute <>

Latula Makara - Knight of Rage. clown... despite the usual purpleblood stereotypes, she doesnt really get angry all that often - most of the time, shes just vibing. but when she *does* get angry? its always for a reason. theres always a specific goal shes fulfilling through that anger (even if its just intimidating someone into doing something). i have the least thoughts about her but shes interesting

Jaiikk Ampora (Jake) - Page of Hope. Just a funny lil guy that likes playing pirates :) all the lowbloods he roleplays with definitely want to be there and don't feel coerced by being 'asked' by a literal violetblood :)) if people die during his 'games' well that sucks but he cant exacly stop playing because of a few small accidents right? ..yyeah. hes incredibly ignorant of his position in society and how that effects other people, even if (especially if) those consequences are deadly for others. after a certain point its just easier to not know whats going on than to face all the damage youve caused right. claims he loves the ocean and dreams of living in the depths. never goes into the ocean. hes a weird guy

Equius Peixes - Heir of Life. Future heir to the Alternian throne. Determined to lead Alternia into a new era of strength, no matter the methods to get there. moirails with Jaiikk (which absolutely doesnt help the whole 'Jaiikk accidentally pressuring lowbloods into doing things for him' thing. bro has scary dog privileges with the future emperor looming behind him at all times)

Even faster Beforus speed round because you cant legally make me think about them for more than five seconds

Porrim Megido - Maid of Time

Feferi Nitram - Witch of Breath

Rose Captor - Seer of Doom

Nepeta Vantas - Rogue of Blood

Kurloz Leijon - Prince of Heart

Aradia Maryam - Mage of Space

Aranea Pyrope - Sylph of Mind

Kanaya Serket - Sylph of Light

Jane Zahhak - Maid of Void

Meenah Makara - Thief of Rage

Terezi Ampora - Seer of Hope

Horuss Peixes - Page of Life

#me.txt #christ this was long #randomiser au #homestuck #i love these guys sm #they haunt me #ask me questions abt them please please pleas eim so so normal

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