#etiquette because there hasn’t been any.

[robertsbarbie]

the touring industry still hasn’t recovered from covid-19 and i don’t think people fully realize that

[stormgardenscurse]

at your service—!

Summary: Maid headcanons for May! When you’re invited into a rich family’s mansion to solve a murder mystery, who will you trust?

Warnings: mentions of death, assassins, poison and murder due to the theme.

Characters: Riddle, Deuce, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Epel, Lilia

If you liked this, consider checking out my TWST Isekai Fanbook, now digitally available on my kofi!

Riddle

The maid who you thought hated your guts at first, but it’s only because of how strict he is with both you and everyone else! You’re in the manor of the Queen of Hearts’ descendants after all, so Riddle will not allow you to fumble!

Honestly speaking, you felt like you could be scolded at any moment around Riddle. He teaches you dining etiquette, how to address certain people, how to dance…

...And saves your life, after your investigation ends up with you being chased by a masked assassin. Riddle surprises you with his abilities in horse riding and after a dramatic escape (stealing a horse from a previously wrecked carriage) addresses you informally for the first time (without realising it himself.)

After that, you start to take walks with Riddle in the rose gardens and listen to his explanations of the manor's history. It helps a lot in understanding background politics, and the sound of his voice is actually really soothing.

Could you say that you’re friends? You certainly trust him now, but can you be sure his would loyalties will lie with you and not his superior, if your investigation starts to point fingers in an unexpected direction?

Deuce

Deuce is well-meaning, but you’re warned by the other maids that he has a track record with delinquency. Cleaned up by the head butler when he entered the Rose Manor to work, but rumors are hard bugs to squash. 

And when you spot him speaking to some well-known thugs in town, well… You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Deuce has only been welcoming and earnest with you, and now you’re wondering if he might have some ties to murderer.

Some kind of friend you are, huh? But at the end of the day, you’re an outsider who’s been hired precisely because your employer doesn’t know who they could trust. 

Your apprehensions have no time to take shape however, because one morning you notice that Deuce is wearing makeup to hide bruises on his knuckles and arms, and you’re overcome by the instinct to help him treat his injuries before suspecting him of anything else.

There’s no way he would hurt someone on purpose, right?

Jade

Prim and proper, Jade is someone who’s often by your side when you’re in need of assistance (as instructed by your employer), yet remains as one of the only people you cannot get a read on.

Just what is he thinking whenever he watches you scribble in your notebook, crossing out theories and names? Does he have something to add? Or might he actually be in cahoots with the murderer, keeping you away from the truth with his convenient position by your side?

As it seems with most things, it takes a serious incident to make the both of you open up. Jade rescues you from a poisoning attempt, but you don’t wake up in your usual room. Instead you’re in one of the empty studies, so that nosy witnesses during the dinner party can’t disturb your rest.

You don’t make sense, Jade tells you. But based on the way he’s calmly giving you another dose of medicine, he finds it fun rather than stressful. You’re glad. And now you know a tiny bit more about him.

He starts off the conversation by telling you he has a twin that works in a neighboring manor. But despite all the trouble Floyd gets into, Jade hasn’t felt as hopeless about a person than when you fainted last night.

Even with how weak you are in comparison to knights or trained assassins, you still fling yourself into mystery with a headstrong manner that makes his mouth quirk up in a smile.

Jamil

Shortly after that, you allow yourself to rely on Jamil for the investigation. He’s quite willing to help, and you can tell Jamil enjoys having something to puzzle out, demonstrating his own strengths and resourcefulness.

Early on, you realize Jamil is one of the only normal people here. In this noble household with its foreign etiquette and social expectations, you’re relieved that Jamil doesn’t expect such things from you, and even offers a space for something familiar to exist.

He brings you lunch once during your investigation of the gardens. And instead of sitting somewhere too exposed, Jamil leads you to a hidden corner with pleasant shading and a safe enclosure of hedges. It’s nice, and you speak casually to one-another. You discuss the town and best shops for food. You feel human again, rather than just ‘the detective’.

…But the more you notice these traits, the more aware you become that Jamil could easily be related to the murderer. The spark of someone forced to lie low in the shadows despite their brilliance can lead to drastic incidents.

But still, you want to believe in the Jamil who brought you out for a picnic because he noticed you’ve been feeling suffocated. You want to believe this friendship isn't a hoax.

Rook

Despite how you were intimidated by his extrovertedness at first, Rook has proven to be a genuinely friendly person and willing to help during your stay here. Which is more than you can say for the rest of the manor—which was nice and respectful, but see your job as a taboo. A ‘what if we get involved and become the next targets,’ type of thing.

You can’t blame them, but it makes you naturally get closer to Rook over the course of your job. You realize one day that despite how much you’ve told him, you barely know anything about Rook.

He’s quite mysterious, as one who sweeps the floors while whistling a tune, always with a smile on his lips as he tells you about how beautiful the building and gardens are. His physique is a bit too toned for someone who only does housework. You suspect he has some other role in the manor too, and wonder if it might be related to the mystery's culprit.

It doesn’t help that Rook seems very knowledgeable about hunting. He helps you figure out where the victim must’ve run and how long it took for the murderer to catch up with them. And sometimes, when you’re caught up in your thoughts and theorizing, Rook surprises you with his soundless steps.

Epel 

Epel has always done his best to assist you, despite how he’s only worked here for a year compared to the other maids. He seems to be trustworthy and willing to help, on top of proving he’s reliable.

You find out that before you came along, there were already groups of maids and other staff who tried to piece together the mystery themselves. But in doing so, created distrust between them and rivalries of suspicion. He thinks that the culprit is definitely a staff member, but can’t be sure of who.

You don’t think he’s directly related to the murderer, but there are times when Epel’s mouth purses during a conversation you’re having with another noble, and you feel like he isn’t telling you everything he knows. Maybe out of privacy or because it’s personal—but when both of you seem to be the targets of an attack, you can’t ignore it any longer and are forced to interrogate Epel.

Now that he’s been helping you with investigations however, there’s definitely a target of sorts on Epel’s back. A few of the maids are unhappy that he might be spreading false ideas to you in favor of one theory or another. And he’s too prideful to shrink under their demands, so they haven’t been on talking terms for a while.

You can only hope that he isn’t indeed a poisoned apple placed before you, unknowingly used by the murderer themself.

Lilia

Very knowledgeable about the hidden rooms around the manor, you can’t help but be a little wary about the clever glint in Lilia’s eyes. He’s explicitly been assigned to keep an eye on you for the sake of the manor’s secrets, and you can tell he isn’t trained to be a maid, despite how it's the pretense he’s using to stick to your side 24/7. 

You sometimes get distracted by the mystery of who Lilia himself might be. He speaks about knights familiarly, yet none of the ones at the manor seem to recognise him when you both pass by. He’s not very good at chores or cooking (to the point where you took over at some points out of concern for the upholstery and kitchen), so how is he still blending in with the other maids?!

Lilia’s saved your life twice now, and you slowly learn that he has weapons hidden beneath his maid dress. Also that he can scale rooftops and the town in less than a minute, but you don’t want to ponder on his scary amount of agility just yet.

Thankfully however, it seems that Lilia is only hired here on a contractual basis. His true, deep rooted loyalties aren’t close to this manor. Which means when the both of you find some very incriminating evidence, Lilia helps keep it a secret from your employer. The both of you are shouldering the weight of the mystery now, but Lilia promises he’ll keep you safe.

You hope there never comes a time where you have to worry about his safety, or that he’d stick his neck out for you more than he needs to.

[allilcat]

Ive been noticing an increase amount of Dreamtwt refugees, and let me preface with saying: Welcome!!! Genuinely, we lovingly welcome you to this happy lil community.

That being said, Tumblr is confusing, between the big etiquette book and the interface that hasn’t changed since 2008 there is a lot to learn. So this is my little attempt to a welcome guide tailored to our lil dream community! Feel free to add your own recommendations and stuff.

Tumblr is a Blogging site, a goog ol relic from ye olden days, your ‘profile’ is your blog, and you can put anything you like on there! However, please do change your avatar and background, we have a massive bot issue here and we tend to auto block someone with a standard avatar.

The main tags for the dream team are as follows: - just their entire usernames, but, those do get hooped up in controversy from time to time. -Dreamblr for the content creator dream

-Dreblr, for C!Dream

-404blr for CC George

-pandasblr for CC Sapnap

-Dtblr for the Dream team

PLEASE REFRAIN FROM USING: #Dream, that’s for people actually posting about their dreams, and #myct as it is mostly used for general MYCT stuff, we prefer to stick to our own spaces.

‘how do I find people?’ you go to any of these tags, find someone you vibe with and click ‘follow’. The algorithm here sucks, and we don’t advice the ‘for you’ page.

On that note, the ‘like’ button is useless, use reblog instead! If you like someone’s hot take, art or stupid shit post, REBLOG. Its how we keep our fandom alive and active here :D

When you reblog you usually keep your comments in the tags, one only really uses the comment section when they DON’T want to reblog. (usually because of le discourse).

Send people asks! People love to chit chat, you can do it anonymously! Tell that one artist youd love to have their brain for lunch! Engage with everyone! We love discussion and open communication here. (prob since there is no real word limit to posts)

Tumblr has developed a nice ‘block liberally, no need to make a fus’ culture. You can block someone for any reason, and it really isn’t a big deal.

On the Tumblr is more relaxed note, we tend to be more relaxed on CC boundaries, since most CC’s do not use twitter. If you don’t like people breaking CC boundaries, even in places where they cant see it, follow the advice above and blockkkkk!!!

Please spell out words! Don’t censor triggering words at it can fuck with people’s filter settings, by censoring these words you put people in more risk.  

Now for some technical advice: Most tumblrina’s turn on ‘hide likes and follower count’ . Any blog can have 4 people following it or 4000, we like to keep it mysterious.

Also turn of ‘best content first’- once again, the algorithm is not to be trusted.

Furthermore, you can really personalize your Tumblr experience and please do! Under ‘account’ you can find many options to filter the content you see, make use of it, for your mental health sake.

[earthtooz]

·˚ ༘ MIKAGE REO BF HEADCANONS

warnings: fluff with angst + argument scene, mostly fluff tho but reo grovels bcthat'sjusthowilikehim, swearing, cw for food and alcohol, making out, hickies, sfw tho :p, 4k+ word count, gn!reader and pro soccer player!reo

a/n: I AM SOOOOOO NORMAL ABOUT HIM GUYS I PROMISE HAHAHA WATCH ME. WATCH ME *proceeds to write 4k+ words of what it'd be like dating this man*. enjoy <3

💳💥💳💥 100/10 BOYFRIEND 💳💥💳💥 ARGUE WITH THE WALL.

sorry i just really love him (a lot).

anyways ! personally, i’ve always perceived a friends to lovers sort of situation with reo- friends. as in, he’s liked you from the get-go and was never shy about vocalising it. he often asked you out on dates and you’d kindly reject his offers.

despite your countless rejections, it never deterred him. lucky for reo that you didn’t seem to mind much, happy to spend time and be around him despite his blatant showcases of affection for you. 

reo was fuelled even more when you constantly turned him down, loving the ‘push-and-pull’ relationship surrounding you. his whole attitude surrounding fighting for things he wasn’t handed to at birth hasn’t exactly dwindled with time, proving apparent even now as a pro-soccer player. 

this meant that he loved how stubborn you were, declining his invites no matter how tempting the offer might have been. could have been a free meal- his treat, at a michelin star restaurant and you turned it down without hesitation.

to reo this only made you more worthwhile to chase because ever since he could remember, he's had the frustration of only being appealing to people because of his wealth. he got use to it after a while, coming to terms that his name would just be synonymous to money, but to have someone break this mould felt liberating.

selfishly enough, he wanted to be by your side forever.

(you were in love with him too but thought he was way out of your league) so yeah. ‘friends’. 

when you finally accepted a date after so long, reo was ecstatic. couldn’t hide how enthused he was when he finally heard the word ‘yes’ slip through your mouth. literally picked you up and spun you around, stuck in his little world of delirium and happiness for a few moments as you laughed with him, admiring his expression of pure elation whilst trapped in his arms. 

he was raised with proper gentlemanly etiquette so definitely a few dates before anything big happened with him. 

reo is absolutely the kind of boyfriend to memorise milestones. i kid you not, he has the date you finally agreed to go out with him memorised. it’s on his phone’s calender- he will always gift you flowers on this day that serve as a little reminder. when you ask him what’s the occasion he’ll shrug and act all nonchalant. maybe he’ll come clean about it one day, but for now, reo will savour how happy you are every time you receive a beautiful bouquet from him.

he’s the definition of down bad and he’s not at all ashamed to let you know. you had his heart in a chokehold before you even started dating can you imagine him now… like yo… what spell did you put on him.

must be the water he drinks because not even you know how reo got to the point he is at now.

bf that opens door for you, bf that understands the sidewalk rule and won’t have it any other way, bf that carries things you might need around - chapstick, hairtie, reo even has a change of shoes for you in his car just in case. and clothes!

bf that looks at you as if you put all the stars in the sky. bf who wakes up a little earlier just so he gets the chance to hold you, especially with how busy reo is. bf who admires you openly and freely.

‘don’t go where i can’t follow’ bf (he’s so dramatic).

reo is a mix between clingy and independent - he’s always open to spend time with you, but if it’s space you want, he’s more than ready to give it to you.

has no problems entertaining himself and not worrying about whatever you might be doing. he's not controlling and in fact, loves a partner who is independent too!

100% a gentleman so expect a lot of gifts from him. never lets you pay- not that you’re complaining, but if you even think about fishing out your wallet, he’s grabbing both your wrists in one hand and tapping his card on the machine instead. 

it’s a slow relationship, you’re both just trying to take your time to learn more about the other before things begin speeding up, and even though reo has been wanting you- wanting this for the longest time, he’s content with the pace. so long as he has you. 

the photos of you two are INCREDIBLE. mirror selfies are a must, but you’re definitely the kind of relationship that’s more on the private side. reo makes sure that your face is hidden save for side-profiles, silhouettes, or ¾ angles, but it’s just for media peace of mind that he was taken.

that said, if you’re going to an event together, he absolutely loves showing you off. your ultimate hype man.

also loves bringing you up whenever he can. ‘how’s practice?’ ‘oh amazing, i love going home to y/n.’, ‘what’s your favourite cheat day meal?’ ‘one of y/n’s childhood favourite dishes, i have like five plates in one sitting’, ‘where’d you get this from? it’s nice’ ‘y/n saw it in a magazine’.

asks you to move in with him five months into the relationship when you both realise you’re over way too often. when there are too many trinkets of yours left around his penthouse that his heart aches at your absence, yearning for your presence through little things that are attached to you.

reo gets so ecstatic when you accept, practically scoops you into his arms, unable to contain his excitement and glee.

ABSOLUTELY the couple that’s like ‘your secret is safe with me… and my partner!’ 

gossip sessions are a weekly occurrence. every saturday you sit down and begin revealing everything. doesn’t matter if you have a party to attend to, you will be gossiping at the party or leaving early to have it at home. you could literally be having a shower and reo would join, seated atop the toilet seat whilst rambling and you’d listen intently.

nothing comes in between your gossip sessions!!! don't even think about interrupting. nagi is more than welcome to join, he knows quite a bit of tea himself so ;) the more the merrier in his case.

chigiri, bachira, and isagi are also all-time favourites. ALL THREE of them are nosy ass fuckers and cannot keep their mouths shut.

it’s like the second you walk into his apartment, he’s giving you a kiss in greeting before sitting you down on the couch, hands and legs pressed together and he begins with ‘i have more to tell you about otoya and his fling’.

and you immediately throw your stuff away and lean into his couch, ready to listen.

speaking of parties, you would absolutely be that couple. the ones who always look flawless and will never be caught lacking !!!!!!!

he’s so proud to be able to walk by your side; that he’s the one who gets to hold you and show you off. so proud in fact, that he never likes to stray too far from you. 

could be doing shots with bachira and stumbles around to find you when he’s done. you have the time of your life filming him in this drunken state. 

definitely had the ‘only my partner is allowed to touch me’ conversation with him once. 

reo is the definition of all five love languages, there is not one of them that he does not like - words of affirmation? absolutely. a must. . physical touch? he’s not ashamed to be needy. gift giving? who do you think he is? acts of service? loves doing things for you and vice versa. quality time? can never get enough of it. 

so yeah. sticking to his ‘thing’ about being a chameleon, he’s very adaptable and willing to listen to your needs.

(i’m going to throttle him he is so perfect)

also reo just really really adores taking care of you- those he loves in general too, but especially you because you’re at the top of his list of favourite people (suck it, nagi)

takes care of you and loves doing so too. whenever you’re sick, he’s at your beck and call 24/7. if he has a meeting or practice to attend, you have to literally force him out of the apartment, threatening him to go but as soon as he returns, he’s back at your side, probably came back with a bunch of things for you as well.

if you take care of him though? goodness he’s ready to pop the question even though you’ve never even discussed marriage.

suddenly cough medicine is a lot easier to drink if you’re the one offering it to him, and the soup you made him must have super healing properties because he thinks he can jump up and run a few hundred laps (goodness reo, please, sit your ass back down and rest). 

OKAY HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE: reo never learnt how to drive because he’s always had a chauffeur, but since dating you, he’s had to get a licence lMFAOOOO let you pick out his car too xoxo such a considerate boyfriend 😣

he suggested as a joke to get a personalised number plate and even though he was clearly goofing around to make you laugh, you couldn’t help but sense there was some sort of truth in his statement… just a slither.

also reo’s definitely the slow-dance in the living room kind of guy like… not a lot can change my mind on this. 

you could literally be putting away the dishes and he’d drag you by the wrist into the living room- he bought a vinyl player just so he could turn on some romantic songs and slow dance with the love of his life. 

he’s not a good dancer btw.

HE LOVES SHOPPING WITH YOU. 1000/10 BOYFRIEND TO GO SHOPPING WITH, doesn’t mind being your personal coathanger when browsing and also doesn’t mind carrying any bags you may have. 

it’s cause reo loves shopping too. loves it even more if you think about him whilst shopping. you could go buy some home appliances and if you returned with the silliest hat with bunny ears and he’d wear it for the next few hours.

return with (expensive) necklaces of each other’s initials and reo is never taking his off, proud to wear the letter of your name around his neck at all times.

takes it off during practice though because if he broke it then goodness is he going to go emo. 

no date with him is a boring date! partly because he’s a considerate and thoughtful person who plans everything out, but also because reo’s company is a fun one to have. every moment with him is fun (except when he’s checking his stocks. you’re kinda left to just wait for him to finish).

(that’s also an ick- that he checks his stocks on dates but whatever 😒he still gives you attention though so it’s fine)

adores going out and staying in! prefers going out though just so he can show you off but also hates going out because he loves to see you dressed up only for him. he’s a perfect paradox.

speaking of staying in, off days with reo are very domestic. you both promise to use this as a work-free day, reo can’t check his business statistics or stock patterns and you’re not allowed to answer any calls or emails. he is allowed to workout though and you have quite a bit of fun blatantly admiring him. you're too comfortable with each other at this stage to get embarrassed.

but other than that, the day is just spent lounging around and doing nothing- a nice reset from how hectic both your lives are.

“there are still some chocolate chips left. wanna snack?” you ask once you put a tray of cookies in the oven, going over to see how many pieces were remaining in the bag.

reo hums, wrapping his arms around your figure, his sturdy chest meeting your back as he plays with the fabric of your shirt. “sure. might as well finish them.”

“bet you can’t catch 10 in a row with your mouth.”

“okay. bet.”

he ends up catching 12 successfully and the rest of the waiting time is spent with you throwing chips into his mouth. there’s a heap of chocolate on the floor but neither of you really mind when the home is warmed with laughter and giggles.

when you wait for the cookies to cool, you somehow end up on the counter with reo in between your legs, holding you closely to him whilst making out to pass the time. the cookies are cold when you get to them.

reo’s jealous. like very jealous. and a little (lot) possessive - do you see the way he is with nagi… c’mon. 

but it comes from a place of good intentions, he's genuinely just in disbelief that he managed to bag someone like you (as if he's not a one in a million too)

he’s very into hickies ;> doesn’t matter if it’s on you or on him, it feeds into his possessiveness all the same. ok next headcanon. 

reo’s got a little bit of an ego to him (he’s a leo. ofc he does) so he secretly loves it when people fawn over him, but not just exclusively you. 

which has been the cause for quite a bit of arguments between you where you were uncomfortable because of the way someone was treating reo and he’d dismiss your concerns, stubbornly rooted in the belief that you knew that you were different. definitely thinks that his love and adoration for you makes it obvious that you’ll always be superior to anyone else. which, you are, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when you don’t see him brush off anyone.

genuinely doesn’t see the issue with this, even when the media is being invasive and speculating too much.

it’s loud.

it’s so very loud, tormenting you as the hurricane of your thoughts can’t seem to quiet down, rattling even stronger as you keep scrolling through the ‘#reo mikage’ tag that was currently trending. each time you see the pictures, your chest constricts even more.

unbelievable how a bunch of pixels could have this much of an effect over you. how your phone mockingly presents several photos of reo and one of japan’s golden models spending time together at multiple events, the headlines only worsening rising assumptions. she’s all over him in each photo, whether it be decked out in formal gear at a promotional event, after a dior runway where reo was invited backstage by the creative director, or- most recently, at a brunch he was invited to by blue lock friends, she seems to love invading his personal space.

the worst part is that he doesn’t seem bothered at all by it.

you know reo and you know how much he valued your presence in his life. you know that before each event, he asked you how his outfit looked and if you approved. before each event, he threw a mini-tantrum over you're inability to accompany him to each one. that he only stopped whining when you promised that you’d be waiting for him after each one.

but you don't know the feeling of betrayal that settles in your gut and it terrifies you.

“y/n?” comes a voice from down the hallway, one that causes your breath to hitch in your throat, all words lodging themselves in your windpipe. reo’s head appears from behind the bedroom door frame and he smiles widely upon seeing you, immediately walking over so he could lean down and place a kiss on your forehead.

it doesn’t do much to stop the tornado in your brain. 

“are we going to watch the latest episode or what?” asks the purple-haired, whose doe eyes are looking at you so innocently- so lovingly. 

“we are,” you whisper, voice slightly broken and ragged, turmoil settling itself crystal clear in the heavy air of your shared bedroom. 

reo notices your pained tone and immediately looks at you with concern gleaming in his eyes. “what’s wrong?” 

so innocent. so ignorant. you wonder if it was appropriate to shatter his purity. but a relationship rooted in honesty will have more positives than negatives and even if it seems like being open with him will be detrimental, you should fix the cracks now before it worsens; splits apart too much to the point of it being unfixable. 

“pictures of you and a model are circulating online,” you mutter, scouring through what’s left of your sanity to express what you’re feeling, but you can tell you’re already failing through the perplexed scrunch of his eyebrows. “and y’know, it just got me-”

“-why are you looking at them?”

you flinch at his defensiveness. “wh-what?”

“you know that they’re just some pictures, don’t you? it’s not that big of a deal.”

something’s telling you that this conversation won’t progress how you want it to so you give up, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “okay, sure.”

he’s not happy with your response. “what? what did i do?”

“it just feels so… horrible looking at these,” you mutter, dragging a hand over your face. “whatever. let’s just go watch the episode or something.”

“let’s not. are you seriously pissed right now? over some photos of me and someone else? i didn’t think you’d be this insecure.”

“i’m not insecure!”

“yes you are! you’re getting angry and upset over me being seen with someone else as if you know they’re nothing more than just a friend! am i not allowed to hangout and be seen with whoever i want?”

“it’s not a matter of being seen with them, reo! it’s about how okay you seem being that close with someone! she’s practically all up in your personal space and you’re okay with it!”

“why wouldn’t i be okay with it? you’re the only person i actually care about for it to mean something.”

“that’s not how it works!” you exclaim abruptly, curling your hands into fists. “it’s so disrespectful seeing this, it’s clear that she has no respect for our relationship and our status as a couple, can’t you see?”

“why should we care what she thinks? everyone else knows. ‘s all that matters.”

“sure, but she’s actively trying to pursue you! and you’re not doing anything to solidify any boundaries against it! do you know how demeaning that feels? especially against someone who is so well-known by your fans too.”

reo narrows his eyes. “so this is a conversation about insecurity-”

“you’re not listening to me!” you cut him off, trying to maintain your composure despite the way anger and frustration brewed freely in your stomach, threatening to spill over. “i’m not insecure! i’m upset because you’re not valuing our relationship publicly, and as a result, it’s stirring up so many unsolicited assumptions online!” 

“you shouldn’t care about them because i only have eyes for you, fuck what the internet is saying.”

“no- that’s,” you ball your fists even tighter, “that’s not the solution to this problem!” 

“then maybe you should just get over it!”

“is asking you to be a little more assertive about brushing off people like this too much?”

“it’s natural, y/n! these people just want me for my fame and reputation! there’s no point brushing them off when they’ll just continue this shit,” there’s a hint of insincerity in his tone, and from the way he’s evading your request makes your stomach churn.

rubbing your temples, you decide to surrender. “fine. if you just want people to fawn over you then they can. just, leave me out of the picture.”

swiftly standing up from where you were seated on the bed, you’re even faster brushing past the purple-haired, shutting the door behind you with a noncommittal slam.

realisation pours over him like cold water and he’s awoken into action. immediately, he turns to rip open the door and rushes into the hallway, panicked as fear strikes him like a lightning bolt. it’s like the rational side of him had finally woken up after a night of dormancy and he curses himself for its horrible timing as he prays he can make it to stop you in time. 

reo feels stupid. so, so stupid.

you’re in the living room already when he catches up, phone in hand as you quickly try to make a beeline for your shoes before your boyfriend can stop you.

unfortunately for you, you’re too ambitious, and reo manages to step in front of you, hindering your exit. the anxiety he’s feeling is expressed clearly in his eyes and devastation is plastered all over his face, a sight that makes you stop in your tracks. 

“where are you going?” he whimpers, no louder than a whisper.

you glance down at your phone to see the time. 10:41. “away. i need to cool my head.” 

“you can do that here, can’t you?” he’s trying to sound sensible, really, he is, but the fear of losing you is too strong that his voice cracks. “i’m sorry, i’m really sorry, i was being stupid and i wasn’t listening to you, i realise that now-”

“-it’s too late for that,” you grumble, trying to sneak past him only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder, one that you brush off. “don’t touch me!”

only a few, simple words yet they hurt reo like spears to his heart. his palms itch with the need to hold you because being able to feel you would remind him that you’re here, that you haven’t left just yet. that reo still has a chance to fix the mess he just created.

“i’m sorry, i’m really sorry, you're right.”

you probably don’t want to hear it, but he grovels nonetheless, contracting his fingers to stop them from reaching out to you. he doesn’t want to make you feel even more disrespected than he already has tonight, especially when you so clearly stated that you didn’t want to be touched.

“don’t go,” the purple-haired pleads weakly. “we can figure this out.”

“so now you want to talk about it?” you ask, all ounce of pettiness you had left melting into your tone. you to cross your arms. “i’m tired reo, and i need some time.”

“i’ll give you time, space, whatever you need, just please don’t leave.”

the penthouse is so quite and devoid of its usual vibrancy, the one that your relationship brings to the home.

reo doesn't want to think about what the place would be like if you leave. he doesn't want to think about what his life would be like if you leave, so he repeats 'please' over and over again, scrambled with some apologies here and there as he leans closer to you.

the urge to be as close as you'll allow him is irresistible.

the breath you exhale is shaky and you can’t look him in the eye as you think about what to do next, gnawing your lip in contemplation. what captures your attention is the feeling of his fingers ghosting over your hands, causing you to glance back at him with a surprised expression.

traces of love frame his expression and he’s looking at you like he’s savouring this moment, as if it'll be his last few with you, but he can only plead and pray that that's not the case. desperately, he succumbs to the force of his affection for you with the light thud of bone meeting floor. it’s a sound that makes you cringe briefly before reo experimentally takes your hands in his, waiting for a reaction. 

there is none.

so he holds on to you like a lifeline and your resolve crumbles, fury and irritation melting away a lot quicker than you would have liked it to. it’s ridiculous what reo’s capable of.

“stay,” pleads the purple-haired, resting his forehead in your hands as he tightens his grip. “please.”

in front of you is a man on his knees. not just any man, but a world-class soccer player who came from 24k gold, real diamonds, and an unfathomable amount of trust funds. yet, something's telling you that he's willing to give it all up for you.

“reo,” your call of his name is broken and entirely wobbly, but he looks up at you nonetheless, eye shining as he waits for your next move. waits for either a strike of the palm or an affectionate kiss, both of which he’d readily accept. 

neither happen as you sink down to be eye-level with him, hoping to help him stand up but like a tidal wave, he consumes you, wrapping an arm around your waist with a strength that indicated he had no intention of letting up. “reo,” you delicately repeat, holding yours and his weight up with one hand whilst the other goes to play with his hair. “i’ll stay.”

the sigh of relief that he releases causes his whole body to shudder. “thank you,” he whispers.

you’ll talk about your problems soon, but for now? you'll continue holding him as he silently weeps, hands clutching your sides like you'll disappear and slip away from his grasp.

yeah. i think reo would be the type of person to get too overwhelmed by his own emotions and ego that he doesn’t consider the other party's feelings, but the moment that he realises he’s fucked up, it hits him like a truck. 

has abandonment issues (from nagi) that he never addressed and as a result, has a huge fear of losing you. 

that said, this argument ^ happened within the early stages of moving in together so this was probably the first big argument that really established how important communication is. sure reo may be confident and assured, but he’s self-aware and more than willing to change and constantly better himself, especially if it’s for you.

back to your regularly scheduled hc, reo doesn’t spend a lot of time on his phone, so he’s not very active on social media. he’s too busy attending to his stocks, reading business books, and spending time with you to care about the internet, so a lot of drama that circulates around online doesn’t reach him until two weeks later.

not that he cares LOL.

speaking of social media, here's what his private account looks like!

yourlocalfinancebroreo close up that the love of my life took

yn: smash ╰┈➤ epicgamerseishiroooh pls no horniness on the priv ╰┈➤ yourlocalfinancebroreo hmu cutie xx ╰┈➤ epicgamerseishiroooh guys pls ╰┈➤ yn nagi what the 😭😭

OH AND he’s so interested in all of your interests. listens intently and rambles passionately, he truly is just perfect :( 

anyways, encourages anything you want to do and is often the one who helps you make the terrifying jump. reo supports you so much in your day-to-day and whatever achievements you accomplish, no matter how big or small, he wants to hear about it from you.

never shy away from being honest with him!!!!

also because the support you show him makes him so happy every time. whether it’s showing up to a soccer match and cheering him on to dropping off some tea and a platter of fruit when he’s stuck in front of his monitor for too long looking at big numbers, he wants to reciprocate this energy and make sure you know just how special you make him feel.

the whole world could be praising him yet none of it could compare to when you do it.

y/n and me vs the world forever type of beat when it comes to you two. 

yeah. i think that’s all i have for now. so, to sum it up: PERFECT, INCREDIBLE, AMAZING, ALL YOU COULD EVER ASK FOR boyfriend. give it up for mikage reo everyone <3

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 8

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Ao3

My unending gratitude to @azure7539arts for talking through this chapter and the next one with me, and helping to untangle all my thoughts!

-

Eddie spends the next week walking on air. He thinks that if his younger self could see him now, just smiling at random throughout the day, practically mooning over a boy—over Steve Harrington—he’d be horrified, but Eddie absolutely does not give a shit. 

He’s happy. He’s hopeful. 

He has no idea what the etiquette is for calling someone after a date, if there’s a certain amount of time that you’re supposed to wait so that you don’t seem like a desperate loser, but he figures he wouldn’t adhere to it even if he did know the rule. He calls Steve the very next day and they talk for an hour. 

He calls the next day, pushing his luck just a little, but Steve is on his way out the door to work and only has a few minutes of time to spare for Eddie. 

A couple of days later, Steve reaches out to him, calling the trailer and this time catching Eddie on the wrong side of a shift. Eddie is tempted to say “fuck it” and just be late to work, but, employing a strength of will he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he recognizes that getting fired wouldn’t help anything. He promises to call Steve back, and he’s at the phone almost as soon as he’s gotten through the door after work that evening. 

“So,” Eddie drawls into the phone between hasty bites of a peanut butter sandwich he’d slapped together before calling, trying not to chew in Steve’s ear, “not that playing phone tag with you isn’t fun, but do you think I could see you again?” 

“You mean like a date?” Steve teases. 

“Exactly like a date,” Eddie replies, not even bothering to quash his smile. 

He thinks he can hear Steve’s own smile when he answers, “I’d like that. And I’m actually free this Friday, if you wanted to take advantage of that.” 

“Perfect. Why don’t we meet here, at my place?” Eddie offers, and Steve gives a little laugh. 

“What happened to waiting until the third date?” he asks. “Trying to seduce me into your bed already?” 

“While you are very much worthy of seducing, I’m afraid I have different plans for the evening,” Eddie says. “So, meet me here? About six?” 

“Sure, Eddie,” Steve agrees, voice still warm with mirth. “I’ll be there.” 

And so, Friday evening finds Eddie on the front steps of his trailer, eagerly bouncing on the balls of his feet and watching as Steve pulls up in front. He doesn’t even wait for Steve to fully exit his car before he’s crossing the distance with a few long strides; the moment Steve has straightened up and shut the door, Eddie is right there, leaning into his space the way he hasn’t been able to in what feels like too long. 

He’d like to drape himself over Steve’s back, wrap his arms around his waist, casual and easy like it had been before, but, apart from being in public, Eddie doesn’t want to push Steve too far. He keeps a small cushion of air between them instead, and leans up to murmur in Steve’s ear, “Goooood evening, sweetheart.” 

Steve laughs, nudging Eddie back with his elbow, but the fond look on his face says it’s not because he wants Eddie away from him so much as he just wants a little room to move. “You’re excited tonight,” he says, still smiling as he turns around. 

“Any night I get to see you is a very exciting night, indeed,” Eddie declares, just a little theatrical about it, grinning as Steve cocks an eyebrow at him. 

“Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” He’s trying to sound unimpressed, but Eddie clocks the pleased, pink flush starting to gather at the tops of his cheeks. 

“Nope.” Eddie shakes his head. “It’s true and I’ll say it. Now c’mon.” 

Eddie waves for Steve to follow as he sets off walking towards the entrance to Forest Hills, and Steve glances, confused, between Eddie and the trailer. 

“We’re not staying here?” 

“Nope,” Eddie says again. He keeps walking and, as expected, Steve heaves a sigh and jogs to catch up. 

“Then why did you tell me to meet you here?” he asks, falling in step with Eddie. 

“Because, I wanted it to be a–” 

“–surprise,” Steve finishes in tandem with him, rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, you liked the last one, didn’t you?” Eddie asks, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Steve’s. 

Biting his lip around a smile, Steve glances over at Eddie. “Yeah,” he admits, bumping Eddie’s shoulder back. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Then hold onto a little of that faith,” Eddie says. 

“I’d have a little more faith if you’d told me we’d be outside again,” Steve grumbles, mostly for show. “I would’ve brought a heavier jacket, it’s almost November.” 

“Steve, you run like a furnace,” Eddie deadpans. “Besides, it’s actually nice out. We should enjoy the last of it before winter descends and we spend the next four months freezing our asses off.” 

“That’s easy for you to say, you’ve got on two jackets,” Steve says, nodding towards the battle jacket Eddie has pulled on over his leather one. 

“Are you actually cold, or do you just feel like complaining?” Eddie asks. 

Steve shoots him a look. “You’ll know when I’m cold.” 

Smirking, Eddie shakes his head. “I’m sure I will,” he says. “But we’re not going to be out here long enough for you to freeze your precious bits off, anyway – we’re just about there.” 

“We are?” Steve glances around, confused, and Eddie doesn’t blame him; there really isn’t much in this direction until you hit town, which is a longer walk than just ten minutes. 

In fact, the only thing around is just coming into view as the trees fall away and a stretch of cleared land begins at the roadside. 

“Here we are!” Eddie declares, taking a turn and ambling into the cracked and pitted parking lot of the diner. 

“You… brought us here,” Steve doesn’t quite ask. “To the diner?” 

“Yeah, c’mon.” Eddie reaches out and takes Steve by the hand, tugging him along until they get close enough to the building that he has to drop it again. 

Truthfully, Eddie hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the diner since Steve brought it up last weekend – specifically, that night at the diner. 

The more he dwells on it, the more he feels cheated, in a way; like he’d robbed himself of the opportunity to experience his time with Steve the way Steve himself had seen it. And the way Steve had described that night, so full of warmth and potential – Eddie wants that. He wants to see it that way, too. 

“I figured we haven’t been here since– well, we haven’t been here in a while. At least, I haven’t. I don’t know if you…?” Eddie glances at Steve for confirmation as they walk through the door, and Steve just shakes his head, brows furrowed. “And I also thought, y’know, it might be nice. If we could both look at a time here as special.” 

The frown on Steve’s face doesn’t clear up at that, much to Eddie’s disappointment. He doesn’t look displeased, exactly, but he also sure as hell isn’t giving Eddie that same smile he’d given him last weekend. 

Steve’s just opened his mouth to say something when a voice cuts across the noise of the diner, sharp and pleased. 

“Boys!” Both Eddie and Steve look up to see Dottie heading towards them with a smile. 

If they have anything like a regular waitress at the diner, it’s Dottie – a woman at least in her late fifties with curly hair dyed a violent ginger-red, bejeweled cat’s eye glasses, and heavy, colorful eyeshadow that never seems to dare smudge past her lids. She loves nothing more than trying to feed the both of them until they pop, as far as Eddie can tell, and she always snaps them up when they visit on her shift. 

“I thought you’d forgotten all about me. Maybe found some fancier establishment to take your business to,” she says as she reaches the front. 

“Are you kidding, Dottie?” Steve asks, suddenly all charm and earnest smiles, his previous mood apparently forgotten. “We wouldn’t go anywhere else. You can’t beat the service here.” 

Dottie rolls her eyes, but gives Steve a pleased smile and a pat on the cheek. She grabs two menus and leads them back to a corner booth, past handfuls of regulars, families out for dinner with their kids, and groups of teenagers milking a single order of fries for as long as it will get them a table. 

“So where did you two go?” She drops the menus on the table and moves to the side as Eddie and Steve settle in. “Seems like you dropped off the face of the Earth for weeks.” 

“Uh… we were just taking a bit of a break,” Eddie says, at the same time Steve tells her, “We were busy.” 

Glancing between the two of them, Dottie gives a slow nod. “Uh huh. Well, it’s nice to see you back from your busy break. Two Cokes?” 

“You know us so well, Dottie,” Eddie sighs, batting his eyelashes up at her, which earns him an eyeroll and a pat on the cheek, too, before Dottie walks off the get their drinks. 

When Eddie looks back over, Steve is looking down, studying the menu even though they both have their favorites memorized by now. 

“Is… everything okay?” Eddie asks, sliding his own menu over just for something to do with his hands. 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Steve says, and he almost sounds convincing – Eddie might really have believed him if he’d actually looked up at Eddie when he said it. 

Eddie sighs, glancing over the laminated plastic pictures of burgers and pancakes, trying to decide what he’s in the mood for. 

“Look, I just thought since we haven’t been here in a while, it’d be nice,” he says finally, voice pitched low, so it doesn’t carry past their table. “I know it’s not a candlelit dinner in the park, or whatever–” 

“That’s not it,” Steve cuts in. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just– it’s fine.” 

Anything Eddie might have come up with to say to that is cut off by Dottie’s reappearance with their drinks. 

“You boys ready to order?” she asks, pulling her order pad out and holding her pen at the ready. 

“Yeah?” Steve half-asks, glancing up and meeting Eddie’s eyes, and Eddie can’t see anything there but the question of whether or not he’s ready, so he nods, and Steve looks back to Dottie. “Yeah. Can I get a patty melt, please? And fries.” 

“You got it,” Dottie scribbles his order down and looks to Eddie, who teeters on the edge of getting a waffle before deciding on the club sandwich and his own order of fries (he’s not entirely sure how well Steve will tolerate his being stolen tonight). “Alright, I’ll get those in for you. Wave me down if you need anything, alright?” 

They thank her and she sashays off again, leaving Steve and Eddie to themselves. 

The quiet that falls over them isn’t comfortable. It isn’t like the contentment of simply sitting in one another’s company that they used to have, nor even a natural pause in conversation like they’d had at dinner last week; it’s simply an awkward lack of knowing what to say, how to keep things rolling. 

Something is off with Steve, but he refuses to say what, and Eddie is desperate to distract from it. He reaches for the first thing he can think of. 

“So I didn’t know you and Jeff were, like… friends,” he ventures, thinking back to the way they’d acted familiarly around one another on Eddie’s last visit to the video store. 

Steve looks up at him, face scrunched a bit in confusion, and Eddie rushes to clarify. 

“I mean, not that I thought you disliked each other, I just didn’t know you were hanging out.” 

Wait, no, now it sounds like Eddie is jealous, like he’s trying to keep tabs on Steve, who is still staring at him like he’s not sure what Eddie’s talking about. 

“Not that you can’t hang out! That’s fine, I just – thought maybe that was a recent development.” Eddie bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying very hard to shut up. 

“Uh, yeah,” Steve finally says. “I ran into him at Melvald’s one night a couple of weeks ago and he invited me to come over to watch a game sometime, since we weren’t really seeing each other at… the usual places anymore.” 

“Ah. Right. Right.” Eddie nods. “You know, you… could come to the usual places, if you wanted to. You’re always welcome. In fact, I think your presence as a spectator at Hellfire meetings has been sorely missed.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve nods, but he sounds distant about it at best. 

“Did you wanna know what you’ve missed so far? I know we were kind of in the middle of the adventure when we, uh–” Eddie shrugs. “You always say you like hearing the story.” 

“Henderson’s been telling me,” Steve says shortly. He grabs his soda to take a sip, but now he actively seems irritated. 

Eddie does his best to tamp down his frustration. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong; he has no idea where the night went south, but he’s hopeful he can salvage it. 

They sit for a little while longer in mostly awkward silence. Steve folds his paper straw wrapper over and over on itself until it’s a tight little square, then drops it on the table and watches it expand in a little puddle of condensation from his glass. He asks how Wayne is doing. Eddie tries to return the favor, before realizing that the only people in Steve’s life that he doesn’t regularly see are his parents (off-limits if he wants Steve in a better mood) and Robin (who may or may not still want to kill Eddie). He glances around the diner instead, and perks up when his attention lights on the back wall. 

“Hey, you got any dimes?” he asks Steve, who sits up a little at the unexpected question. 

“Maybe?” he says, shifting in his seat so he can reach into his pocket. “Why?” 

Eddie jams his own hand down into his pocket and emerges victorious with a small handful of change. “Never mind, I’ve got some. Be right back.” 

He hops out of the booth and heads towards the back, where the behemoth of a jukebox squats, waiting to be fed coins and spit out songs that no one even remembers. 

Steve had been right when he’d said most of the music sucks; there isn’t anything more recent than mid-70s, and almost nothing in there had ever been what you would call a chart-topper. Sometimes Eddie and Steve waste their spare change having a contest over who can find the worst song to play, until the waitresses start glaring at them and they slink guiltily back to their table. 

This time, though, Eddie flips through for one of the few good songs he knows is in there. He clicks to make his selection and grins as the quick-paced strum of a guitar pours out of the speakers, followed by the crooning of none other than Elvis Presley. 

You can always count on The King to pick things up. 

“There we go,” Eddie says as he returns to the booth. “Had to set the mood.” 

Or maybe you can’t always count on The King, because Steve actually looks kind of pissed. 

“What is it?” Eddie asks, any confidence the music had given him draining away. 

Steve stares at him for a moment longer, unnervingly intense, before he blinks and looks away. “Nothing. It’s– never mind.” 

“No, what’s–” 

“Here we are,” Dottie announces, appearing at the side of their table with plates in hand. “Patty melt for Steve, club for Eddie, ketchup for your fries. How’s that look?” 

“It looks great, thanks,” Steve says, smiling up at Dottie as though he hadn’t just been glaring offended daggers at Eddie; he’s always been good at that in a way Eddie hates – putting on that shallow, easy-going mask at the drop of a hat. 

“Anything else I can bring for you?” Dottie asks. 

Eddie is about to say no when he scans the table and realizes the one thing he’d forgotten. “Oh, actually – could I order a vanilla shake, too?” 

And that is apparently the wrong thing to say. 

Steve’s smile falls away, and he’s giving Eddie a look that sits somewhere between angry and hurt that Eddie doesn’t fucking understand. 

“Actually,” Steve says sharply, “I just realized that I have to go. I’m – there’s somewhere else I’m supposed to be, sorry.” 

He slides out of the booth around a shocked Dottie and pulls enough money from his wallet to cover his meal and a tip, pressing it into her hand before turning to leave. 

“Honey, did you want a box for all this?” Dottie asks, helplessly gesturing towards his untouched meal. 

“No, I – sorry, I just have to go,” Steve says, already halfway to the door. 

“Shit,” Eddie swears lowly, shimmying out of the booth to give chase. 

“Eddie!” Dottie calls out sharply, gesturing to his untouched meal when he turns back to look at her. 

“I’m not – I’m not leaving, I swear, I’ll be right back, I just have to–” He glances up frantically when he hears the bell over the door jingle, signifying that Steve is slipping away. “I just have to– Steve. I need to– I will be right back.” 

Dottie sighs and nods, and Eddie is off like a shot. He catches up to Steve at the end of the parking lot, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s shoulder when he doesn’t respond to Eddie’s calls. 

“Let me go,” Steve snaps, jerking out from under Eddie’s touch, but Eddie isn’t deterred this time, grabbing Steve around the arm and halting him in his tracks. 

“No. Not until you tell me what the fuck I did to piss you off!” Eddie says. 

Steve wheels around, shooting an incredulous look at him. “Seriously? I have to tell you?” he demands. “How could you think that any of that was okay?” 

“I don’t– You like the diner! Or you did!” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to know you suddenly hate it there?” 

“It’s not the diner,” Steve huffs, and Eddie finally lets him go, if only to throw his hands up in the air, trying to toss some of his frustration off. 

“Then what? I’m not psychic, Steve! How am I supposed to fix my mistakes if you won’t even tell me when I’m upsetting you?” 

“You can’t just rewrite the past, Eddie!” The look on Steve’s face is thunderous, until it slides away like he’s too tired to keep it up, exhaustion following in its wake. “You can’t just – you can’t.” 

The chill Eddie feels has absolutely nothing to do with crisp October night that had descended while they were inside. “What? No, Steve, that’s not what I was trying to do. Why would I–” 

“So what, then? I tell you about the night I thought of as our first date and you decide to just throw it back in my face? Show me what it could have been if you’d just fucking looked at me?” Steve asks. 

And suddenly it clicks – everything Eddie had done tonight, almost beat for beat, entirely unintentionally, had damned him. 

Maybe if he’d waited a while between Steve’s confession and his decision to take them to the diner, it might have been okay, but for a musician, Eddie’s timing had sucked. 

“No, that’s not what this was,” Eddie insists. “I wouldn’t do that.” 

“Then we’re back to you just trying to– to fucking recreate something we already did, so you can try to make it better!” Steve says. 

In his floundering, a little of Eddie’s frustration boils over. “Well you’re the one who said you wanted to just go back to doing what we were doing!” 

“I also said I wanted to go forward with more awareness! Not go back and do the same shit over again!” Steve snaps. “I’ve spent the last few weeks just– going over and over everything we did together, looking at everywhere I fucked up, everywhere I misinterpreted you, realizing that everything I was looking at as us wasn’t– it wasn’t the same for you. And I was getting used to that, I was… making my peace, or whatever, thinking we’d just move on, and then you go and– and do this.” 

“I–” Any of Eddie’s frustration, any anger, it all dries up, leaving behind a cold, rasping desperation. “Steve, I’m sorry.” 

Steve opens his mouth, but the sound of the bell over the diner’s door sounds off again, and another man’s stern voice cuts into the silence. 

“Young man, you need to come pay your bill.” 

“Oh, Herb, he’s a regular, he’s not going to just run out!” Dottie’s voice comes on the heels of the man’s, equally stern. “Just give them a minute.” 

“I gave them a minute, Dorothy,” the man—Herb, Eddie guesses—snaps. “I won’t have delinquents doing any kind of dine and dash nonsense.” 

“Well, he didn’t even dine, so get back inside. And he isn’t a delinquent. Honestly,” Dottie is practically scolding, but Herb won’t be deterred. 

“You’d better go take care of that.” Steve nods back towards the diner, before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and turning to walk off. 

“Wait,” Eddie calls out. “Just wait a minute, please don’t–” 

“Young man,” Herb barks out again, and Eddie hisses out a string of swears. 

He jerks back around towards the diner, yanking out his wallet and trying to count bills as he walks. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I tried to tell him,” Dottie says, genuinely apologetic. 

“It’s fine, it’s– fine.” He offers her a weak smile. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” 

Herb—the manager, if Eddie had to guess by his ugly, front-creased slacks and lack of apron—is unmoved. 

“Come with me to the register,” he says, opening the door and gesturing for Eddie to go in. 

“Dude, I know how much I owe you, can’t I just give you the money here?” Eddie asks, trying not to squirm with the antsy need to go running after Steve. 

“And how much do you owe me?” Herb asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“It’s, like, ten dollars for the meal, and then tip. Here.” Eddie holds out a handful of bills, but Herb refuses to take them. 

“Like ten dollars isn’t an exact amount. Inside,” Herb demands. 

Eddie is half tempted to just throw the bills at him and run, but even as Dottie squawks at the man that he’s being unreasonable, Eddie knows she won’t be enough to sway the guy from trying to ban him—or worse—so he follows Herb in and begrudgingly pays his bill at the register. He makes sure to hand the tip directly to Dottie, making spiteful eye contact with Herb as he does, and then he’s back out the door. 

He doesn’t see Steve out on the road. He doesn’t see Steve at the entrance to the trailer park. He doesn’t see Steve’s car in front of his place when he finally gets back, winded from running at least halfway there. 

Bastard probably took a shortcut through the woods. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Eddie hauls off and kicks one of the tires on his van, the nearest available object, which does nothing but hurt his foot and make him a little more miserable. 

When the jittering swell of anger and disappointment has receded a bit, no longer clogging his throat and giving him room to think a little more clearly, he considers his options. 

Like last time, he could give Steve room to cool off. To lick his wounds in peace and then maybe come back to Eddie, ready to talk again. 

Or. 

Or he could get in his van, go find Steve, and show him that he’s willing to face his mistakes and make them better, whatever that takes. That he wants Steve to tell him what’s really wrong, so they can address it and move forward. That he’s willing to fight for Steve. 

He’s already pulling out of his parking space before he even realizes he’s made his decision.

Part 9

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[comfortless]

syl. *grabs you and shakes you* syl. i woke up in a cold sweat thinking of like… könig. already off to a great start ik. but space opera könig. (not like star wars or anything) but think like 70s aesthetics all bright and colorful. he’s a bandit in a stolen ship, formerly part of a military group making peace with other planets but something went awry and he’s just having fun now!

reader is part of a small research group that has landed on a planet he’s camped out on and he’s just like “ok” followed by “i want that”. steals all of her supplies and then her. doesn’t care how much she protests when he just hauls her over his shoulder, pats her butt bc he thinks THATS going to calm her down and throws her into his ship.

she’s happy he’s not some creepy alien but at the same time who really knows what’s under that hood anyway hmmmm and she wants to hate him but also all that’s playing in her head is that one rah band song. messages from the stars lmao please. there is something in the way you write that is so special to me and if you were to come up with a full blown story for my dumb idea i think i would scream for 20 hours straight.

lil wisp….. you have no idea what this has done to me. i am going to be thinking about this for an eternity. let’s cook.. i see your vision and i would love nothing more than this too!!

content/warnings: implied violence, abduction, dubcon groping?

König’s been on his own, drifting through the stars for so long. Only raiding the ships he comes across for food, supplies, and when he stumbles across a mechanic he puts them to work with a silly laser rifle pointed right at their head (because let’s face it— when you’re a wanted space pirate who in the universe is going to fix your ship for you??). He’s put all of human etiquette far behind him, and now his life is quite literally just one relentless adventure. He wouldn’t have it any other way!

That is, until his ship is fucked up again, displaying about thirty bright red warnings on its silly hologram screens that he just can not make sense of. The thing is old, has been shot at more times than even he can count, and it’s finally failing him if the loud sputtering and incessant orbital beeps are anything to go by. He considers his luck has run out when he lands the damned thing on some hunk of rock out on the outskirts of a galaxy most don’t even bother with, because there’s nothing out here.

Thankfully, his frustration is short-lived because a smaller ship lands only a few days later; painted in the bright, pearlescent blues and pinks of your standard peace-keeping, research vessel. It’s the perfect craft to steal and it wouldn’t even be difficult… the three humans that exit are so much smaller than him and entirely unguarded. They’re just here to study a few minerals, maybe haul some back to their little camp a few worlds over for fuel and research. He won’t even get into too much trouble for it, he thinks, because even his trashed ship could take them back home. See!! He isn’t all that bad…

At least, until he notices her, bent over admiring some silly, little cluster of crystals in her skin-tight jumpsuit that makes him see stars. The heavy boots that rise up to her knees making her look like little more than a fauness, and she’s so pretty he just can’t help but get a closer look while her teammates are off chittering away and exploring the nothing planet.

She isn’t even afraid of him when he approaches. Just straightens up with her hands clasped in front of her and a smile on her face. She hasn’t seen the holograms of him, displaying a sizable bounty for his veiled head, doesn’t take a wary note of the massive rifle he has slung over his shoulder; she just sees another person. He hasn’t been looked at like that since long before he left home!!

This sweet woman has no sense of self-preservation either, because she immediately asks him if he needs food or water; gestures over to her brightly colored ship with that pretty smile ever-present on her face, and that’s all it takes for him to decide that not only is he taking the craft, he’s taking her too.

He doesn’t say a word when he lifts her up over his shoulder, and the poor thing must be shocked because it takes her a moment before she starts squirming in his grip. König does well to remove the little radio strapped to her hip, giving her ass a firm squeeze in the process before tossing it in the dust behind him. That’s all it takes to shut his little prinzessin up before he hauls her back into her ship and demands she turn off any tracking systems. Her knees are a bit weak when she fumbles with the control panels, and he’s unashamed of his own erection when he slides in behind her to lean over the console as the ship starts up.

She whines about leaving her friends stranded, of course, but he’s in a world of his own when he grabs her by the hips and seats her in his lap while she pilots. Never mind the others, he’ll take good care of her, honest!!

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄNo Room For Prayerꨄ

Oneshot - Demon Apocalypse/Soulmate Au

❦Y/n gets captured by demons❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Demon language is red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

No Room For Prayer

Y/n breathed heavily as she managed to catch her breath, sweat falling down her skin as the hairs on her limbs stood. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she held her chest, feeling the sensation of her heart beating fast. Finally getting her breath steady, she calmed her heart rate, bottom against the dirty floor of the abandoned house.

Ever since the demons took over a couple years back, she’s had to fend for herself, moving from house to abandoned building, and so on. She resides in the part of the city where the lower class demons roam for the scraps and stranded humans that were not chosen by upper class, high ranked demons.

Food is minimal and she can’t catch a break whether it be by a demon or feral human. She has a deep hatred for the demonic race considering it turned her life upside down. Sure, life before could’ve been better but the past beats the present by a long shot. Eyeing her surroundings, she stands from her position crouched on the floor and walks through the house with her flash light.

She glances around the kitchen she walked into, wincing at the blood stained on the wall, a mixture of dried and fresh. She ignores the smell of rotting food and opens the pantry for any canned greens or meat. She swung her back pack around to open it and set some of the cans inside of her bag.

Honestly, she’d rather be here than with the upper class demons because they preserve their human alive or not, slicing or tearing what they want and maybe saving the torso or other body parts for another day. You either become a slave, maid, servant, or meal. There’s really no warning sign, you’re just snatched and that’s it. At least she has a chance of survival with no responsibility to serve or be served unless by accident.

She opens the fridge, covering her nose as the grimy stench reaches her nostrils. She sees nothing but rotting fruit and meat. Mold infested the inside, the milk that was left had no sign of liquid. She shuts the door after noticing maggots, preventing herself from feeling sicker. No matter how long it’s been, the rotting sign of humanity that was left disgusted her to the point of gagging.

She checks for any water bottles in the cabinets and finds a few hidden behind other boxed food. She didn’t bother to check the freezer knowing that she hasn’t found a place to stay long term and never will. Considering the doors of every place she’s been at has been kicked down, she can’t cook in peace. The smell of food would attract the demons, knowing a human is near by their cooking.

She sighs as she opens the can of peas, tossing the top to the side as she uses one of the remaining plastic spoons she stole from the local deserted grocery store. She recollects the events that brought her to this day.

“What is that?” Her close friend asks.

The sound of banging continued on the door of their apartment.

“The police?” Y/n suggests as she sets the blunt to the side, a nervous wreck as she’s never experienced being caught with flower before.

“They would’ve announced that by now.”

The banging accelerates as well as growing louder before it completely stops.

“What the fuck?” Y/n whispers, her knees pulled to her chest as she sits next to her friend on the couch.

The only thing that could be heard was their shaky breathing. Before they know it, the door is shoved off of its hinges, hitting the wall as a large creature steps in. The girls scream as they run in the opposite direction of the monster. Unfortunately, Y/n’s friend’s ankle was yanked, stopping her from running and causing her to fall on her stomach.

“Run! R-Run!” Her friend desperately cries. “Don’t let me die in vain! Survive, Y/n!”

“I-I’m so sorry!”

Y/n turns on her heel and makes an escape through the back door, the door slamming shut right after she hears a shred of skin along with her former friend’s scream.

She shuts her eyes before grabbing her bag and swinging it on her shoulder, taking a bite out of the peas. She lives in regret for not even attempting to help her friend escape. Her only excuses being she was scared, caught off guard, and high. Especially with the break in being from an unknown monster and not a human. She shakes her head, pushing the thoughts out of her mind to focus on her situation at hand. She continues eating until finished.

Y/n pauses when she hears rustling and footsteps. Her eyes widen as she holds her breath, slowly stepping to the opposite direction from where the noise is coming from. She looked at her surroundings to find another exit to the kitchen.

The window!

She sets the empty can down and quietly moves to the window, unlocking it before sliding it open. She climbs through and falls on the ground with a thud. Cursing herself for the noise she begins to make her way around the house, ready to make a run for it until she’s grabbed from her bag.

“Human! Kneel.” She’s yanked to the ground, her backpack being her support. Her eyebrows furrow as she makes an attempt to escape before a foot pressed in between her breasts, forcing her to lie down.

“Comply or we’ll take you by force.” The demon guard states. She shakes her head.

“Fuck you!” She says before pulling out her knife and stabbing it in his ankle causing his foot to lift off of her body. She jumps up and drops her back pack to make it easier for her to run, though the other guard snatches her back and grips her arms. He pulls his arm back before punching her face, causing her head to drop unconscious.

Eyelids shoot open as Y/n immediately sits up, sweat falling down her head as she breathes heavily, the memory of running from the guards stuck in her brain. Feeling weightless she notices her bag out of her sight, turning abruptly to the side to see it settled beside her. She yelps in pain as her hand goes straight to her face where she was punched, memories collecting from before she was unconscious.

“You should take it easy there.”

She gasps as she sees the newcomer, immediately shooting up from her spot on the mattress and standing across the small room at a potential threat.

“Woah there. Everything is fine, alright? Name’s Rin. I saved you.”

She stood in attack mode, her body tense as her eyebrows furrowed.

“Saved me?” She eyes his figure, mullet pulled into a messy ponytail with a few strands loose. His casual attire dirty from what she assumes to be survival. His hands are held up in surrender. He nods in response.

“I saw you fighting that demon when I snuck into the house. Once he knocked you out, I fought him off and brought you here.”

She relaxes her arms as they drop to her sides, though still suspicious of the guy known as Rin.

“Y/n.” She states. He runs his fingers through his bangs.

“We should get goin. The sun’s out so that means there’s less monsters are around.”

“We? I barely know you. Where would we go anyway?” He sighs.

“Well, you don’t have to come with me but I thought you’d like to find the refuge of people on the other side of the city.”

“What refuge of people?” He looked at her with a surprised expression.

“You don’t know about the group of survivors? That’s where my brother is. I’m surprised you didn’t know about it.”

“Oh.” She replies, conflicted on whether or not she should follow.

“I’m going to leave soon so if you need time to think, you have about five minutes.” He says before walking out of the door.

She sighs, “Wait! I’ll come with you.”

He turns his head to give her a side eye, smirking in the process.

“Let’s go then.”

It takes them a total of seven days to make it across the city. She followed him as he knew where to go. They had a couple demon attacks, but nothing that couldn’t be beat, the perks of dealing with the lower class demons that range from weak to strong. They stopped at different houses and buildings for food and shelter, along with releasing their waste. It was eerie not seeing any other humans during their journey. She was used to coming across at least one or two a day whether they be feral or normal. It brings her temporary comfort. Unfortunately, she hadn’t got to experience that besides Rin being around which brought her some security.

They conversed along the way and she learned some things about him as well as vice versa. He told her about his brother, Ran, and their friends. All in all, they’ve become closer, especially with him fitting as her protector in a way when fighting off the creatures. It felt good to have someone help her along this tough voyage. Finally reaching the top of the hill, he holds his arm out to stop her from walking.

She gazes at the dark castle, searching for the humans they spent so long talking about. She looks around in confusion until she noticed the dreadful creatures in uniform.

“R-Rin. What’s going on? Where’s the village?”

“Well the village is here, Y/n.”

“What do you mean? Why are there demons? Where did you bring me?” She asks as goosebumps form. Her stomach drops when he walks toward her, palm on her cheek.

“I guess I can go ahead and tell you, Y/n. You’re our destined sixth.” She eyes him with confusion. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. Who’d want a weak human as a sixth mate? Instead of grabbing you, I wanted to test the waters and really get to know you out of boredom. It was fun playing human and all, but I really missed life here.”

Her eyebrows furrow as she snatched his hand away from her face.

“Y-you’re a demon.” She states, angry for being such a fool.

“To answer your question from earlier, I’ve brought you home.”

“No, no, no!” She exclaims, backing away from him. Her arms are caught by tight grips as she’s held up by the guards holding her limbs. Rin chuckles at the display of distress on her face.

“Yeah, it was easier than I thought it’d be. We’ll explain more later. You should rest, Y/n. You don’t look so good.”

Before she could respond, he motioned for the guard to shoot her with a tranquilizer.

She groans as her eyes open, blurred out vision revealing a ceiling as she wakes up. She slowly moves to rub her eyes, her ear perks when she hears a clunking sound. Pulling herself to sit up she notices her wrist cuffed to the wall of the cell, as well as the white gown on her figure.

She gazes at her clean skin, the dirt and grime from minimal showering completely gone. She gently rubs her skin as well as checking her body for any marks or injuries. She sighs in despair, remembering how she heard from somewhere that they clean their victims before serving the dish.

She turns her head to the guard who opens her gate, walking towards her with a set of keys. Getting ready to attack, her body tenses as she waits for him to unchain her. Once she’s unchained, she immediately punches his face and kicks his stomach, causing him to fall to the side.

Normally, he would’ve been able to fight her off and block her attack by using his own strength, but she caught him off guard, therefore he wasn’t expecting the attack. She snatches the keys that fell to the ground and runs out of the cell, locking him in just in time as he grabs the bars, stretching his arm to reach after her as he growls.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She hissed as she ran out of the door and through the hall.

My dumbass has no plan, no direction. Absolutely nothing to go off of but my legs. How the hell am I going to get out of here?

She pushes through servants and maids unapologetically as she ignores the pain in her legs and tightness forming in her chest as her breathing becomes ragged. She keeps her eyes straight ahead as she hears commotion from behind, guards gathering as they run after the human. Holding her hands up, she pushes through the random pair of black doors, entering a dining room.

Wide eyed, she ignores the demons eyeing her as she grabs a large knife. She stands beside the table, glancing at the content. A raw human’s body lays at the middle of the table, the head completely decapitated and nowhere to be found as the limbs have been cut off, different pieces of meat on everyone’s plate. She turns her head in disgust and gags.

“Oh my fucking god!” She exclaims. “Sick beasts!”

“I deeply apologize for this interruption, your highnesses.” The lead guard bows.

“This is quite entertaining.” The purple, short haired demon says as he takes a sip from his alcoholic beverage.

“Indeed, brother. I don’t ever recall a human creating such a commotion. Told you she was interesting.” Rin states, fiddling with the half eaten finger on his plate.

“Get back!” She exclaims, pointing the large knife at the guards who stalk closer. Scared out of her mind, she acts on impulse and grabs the black haired short man by the arm, pulling him out of his seat as she puts him in a chokehold with the knife pointed at his head. Demons' weak point is an impact to the head. If they get shot or stabbed in their brain, it will kill them. Anywhere else is child’s play considering they can heal themselves.

The pink haired demon almost stood up from the table to grab his lover from the arm of the human, though the golden eyed man set his hand on his thigh causing him to halt and look back at him with his piercing blue eyes.

“I’d be more worried for the human than Mikey, Haru.” He smiles, showing his fangs.

Mikey kept his eyes straight with a stoic expression, not bothering to struggle considering he could easily remove himself from her hold. The only thing keeping him from shredding her right now is the familiar tingling from their skin on skin contact. Pulling his head back he makes eye contact with her for a split second, causing her to release him from the intense shock she felt through her body.

“Leave her.” He states. His mates furrow their brows in confusion as well as the guards.

“B-but your Highness…” His dark eyes narrow at the guard.

“Are you questioning your King?”

The guard bows with a ‘no, your Highness,’ and guides his men out, shutting the door behind them.

Y/n could only stare in horror as she got a good look at her surroundings, realizing she’s in a room full of high class royals. She looks for any windows, desperate for an escape. When her eyes meet the familiar purple, a scowl forms on her face as she aims and throws the knife at Rin’s head, in which he dodges with ease causing the weapon to penetrate the wall behind him.

“This is your fucking fault!” She exclaims.

“Sit down.” Mikey states calmly, fed up with the situation at hand.

“I’m not sitting dow-!” She was cut off by a sudden force picking her up and shoving her in one of the seats, a pressure preventing her from getting up. Mikey sits back in his seat which is at the end of the table across from hers. She stares at them with disgust as they study her.

“She’s so…plain looking. How could she be our sixth?” Sanzu asks, rolling his eyes as he rests his hand on his palm.

“What did you expect from a human?” Rin takes a sip of his own beverage.

“I think she’s cute.” The golden eyed man states, chuckling at his mates conversation.

“You think everyone is cute, Kazu.” Mikey states with a tired eyed smile.

“Hey, that’s not true!”

“Don’t be in denial. It’s okay to admit that you’re a little slut.” Ran smiles widely.

“You certainly don’t mind admitting it in the bedroom.” Rin says.

“EXCUSE ME! What the fuck is going on?” Y/n, sick of the playful banter that she can’t understand, exclaims. She subconsciously backs away as different eyes bore into her.

“Somehow, you are our sixth destined soulmate.” Kazutora explains before taking a bite out of the forearm causing Y/n to look away.

“Humans don’t have soulmates.” She responds with confusion.

“You do now.” Sanzu scoffs. She glares at him before turning her attention back to her own empty plate, not wanting to see the view of the eaten human body.

“This seems to be a new thing for us all. Considering we knew of your arrival, we have everything planned out.” Ran states. Her eyebrows furrow at the word ‘planned.’

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to be a good girl and follow all the rules.” Rin says.

“Fuck your rules, I’m not staying here!” She slams her hands on the table.

“Fine, you don’t have to follow the rules.” Mikey shrugs.

Her throat closes as her arms and legs are bound by an invisible force. Her nostrils feel blocked as she struggles to gain some air, failing as her mouth was forced shut. Her eyes tear up as she becomes light headed.

“You can just die.” Mikey says with a bored look.

“Poor little human. Such a waste of a pretty face.” Ran states mockingly, shaking his head.

“Is this your fate or will you listen?” Rin questions.

She shuts her wet eyes and nods frantically, desperate to breathe again. Finally, the hold is released before she coughs and breathes heavily.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Let’s begin.”

[scoops-aboy86]

This is a belated happy birthday fic for @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson! Chubby Steve fluff, with a little bit of stuffing and spice thrown in at the end. 😘

Eddie watches blearily from his hospital bed as Steve, hands on his hips, bickers with Dustin over what is and what isn’t appropriate hospital visit etiquette. Namely, “You can’t just try to hug a guy who just got out of major surgery, dipshit!” 

It’s absolutely the drugs—Eddie hasn’t asked what he’s on yet, it’s sure as shit the good stuff though—but all that’s running through his head right now is, I’m gonna marry that man. 

He’s been trying to convince himself not to fall for Steve Harrington for years, ever since he’d accidentally caught a school swim meet and nearly wiped out walking into a trash can at the sight of so much mole-speckled skin on display. Seeing that again in the Upside Down’s muted lighting while Steve killed one of those bat things with his bare hands, even obscured by grime and blood and the most luxurious chest hair that Eddie has ever personally witnessed, seems to have sealed the deal. 

“Steeeve,” he whines, interrupting their argument. “I want a hug. From you,” he adds quickly, then points a finger in Dustin’s general direction. “Not you, Henderson. You’re not my type.”

Steve’s face goes red while Dustin snorts in half-offended amusement. Three minutes later Eddie has somehow persuaded Steve to lay down in the bed with him—carefully, because Eddie is still connected to a lot of stuff—and cuddle up. He tells Dustin in his best ‘benevolent lord’ voice to “fetch grapes so that I might feed this beautifully warm vision of loveliness by hand” and the kid actually leaves the room, though god only knows if he’ll honor the request. 

“Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?” Steve asks for the third or the twentieth time. “You nearly died, man, I don’t want to… squish you or whatever.”

With a hum, Eddie tugs him closer. (Or tries, anyway. At the moment he has all the strength of a newborn kitten, but it’s the thought that counts.) “Sweet Stevie, jewel of my heart,” he says, and part of him does know that he’s going to be incredibly embarrassed about this later but for now Steve isn’t telling him to fuck off and that’s glorious, “you could never squish me. Your presence sustains me. With you at my side, Death himself can’t help but agree that I’m already safely tucked away in heaven and destined to forever thrive in the glow of your light.”

The way Steve blinks at him, face flushed and lips slightly parted like he’s trying to think of a reply but coming up empty, is perfect. Eddie coos and kisses his forehead, and Steve shifts to hide his burning face against Eddie’s shoulder, heat bleeding through the paper-thin hospital gown. But he doesn’t get up, is the important thing. 

To Eddie’s surprise (and only half because he’d forgotten in his muddled state, thank you very much) Dustin returns with an armload of vending machine snacks. “Steve doesn’t like grapes,” he announces, and dumps the snacks over the blanket next to Eddie’s non-Steve side. “I brought some stuff he does like. Don’t pull any stitches or I’ll tell Robin you’re trying to steal her boyfriend.”

Steve snorts into Eddie’s shoulder, mumbling low enough that only Eddie can hear, “Wouldn’t want that.” But he lets Eddie feed him pop tarts and pringles and various candy bars for the next hour, or whenever Eddie dozes off again in another post-op nap. 

~

“Dustin sent me in here to break up a love fest,” Robin says as she enters the room, smirk quickly changing to raised eyebrows as she takes in the scene on the bed and, just as quickly, shutting the door behind herself. “Which I didn’t expect to actually find, wow.”

Steve, wrapped up in Eddie’s sleeping embrace, rolls his eyes. “He wanted to feed me grapes.”

“Uh huh,” she replies slowly, taking in the scattered wrappers. “But you don’t like grapes.”

“Only when they’re room temperature and squishy, but that’s not the point, Rob.” He tries to shift, only for Eddie’s weak grip on him to tighten a little. Immediately, he freezes, but the other man just hums in his sleep and settles back down. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits, looking back up to his best friend with deer-in-the-headlights eyes. 

“Because you’re stuck in the grip of a metalhead koala?”

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head against Eddie’s shoulder, where he’s obligingly curled into the man’s side. “Because it’s nice,” he whispers.

“Oh, Steve…”

~

The next several months as Eddie recovers are… interesting. Since his uncle is staying in the local motel and Steve’s parents have all but washed their hands of Hawkins, it’s agreed that Eddie should stay at the Harrington house. As soon as someone floats the idea, Steve is quick to tell him that there’s a first floor guest room with an en-suite and his name on it. 

Wayne comes over whenever Steve has to be at work; the plant was destroyed in the earthquake but Family Video, for all its faults, is somehow still standing, and goddamn if people don’t want their hot and cold running entertainment after surviving a ‘natural disaster.’ At night, though, Steve stays in Eddie’s room out of concern that he might not hear the bell he’s given to Eddie to ring whenever he needs something. He’s not that heavy a sleeper, for the most part—not anymore, with the nightmares and the headaches and the difficulty sleeping alone—but it eases something in him to know that Eddie is right there, alive and breathing. 

Eddie, for his part, never stops asking Steve to help keep him warm. At first it was still the drugs, which absolutely did a number on his impulse control. But weaning off of them seemed to only make him more clingy, just… in an irritable way, which Steve figures is fair. His own bites itch like hell while healing up; Eddie has it way worse, the constant prickle of healing skin and deeper injuries. 

One day when Eddie is snapping at everything, Steve starts to ask, “Do you want me to get you more—”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Eddie barks, glaring at first but then rubbing both hands over his face with a groan. “It’s a slippery slope from ‘use as needed’ to ‘use whenever the fuck you feel like getting high,’ Steve. I’ve seen it. I’m not gonna do what my parents did to me to you and Wayne.”

They’re both quiet for a long moment after that, Eddie avoiding eye contact while Steve tries earnestly to make it. 

“Okay,” Steve says finally, and settles back down. He’s at Eddie’s side again, on what’s steadily becoming his side of the bed because Eddie has started exasperatedly telling him to just come lay down whenever he starts to nod off in the armchair in the corner. 

Eddie’s eyes flick over, catch on his. It still amazes him every time that Steve is willing to get this close, given Eddie’s public record as a freak, a drug dealer, and a three-time high school senior. And, last but not least, the actually very true rumors about his sexuality, can’t forget that! He keeps waiting for the bubble to pop and Steve to announce that enough is enough, but it keeps not happening. 

Not sure what else to do, Eddie pushes a corner of the grilled cheese Steve had made for him against the other man’s lips until he takes a bite. And another. Steve makes him take at least one bite to each of his two, and between them they gradually make their way through the sandwich, several Yoohoos, and various snacks. 

~

“He said he’s not going to do that ‘to you and Wayne.’ How come he said me first? Does that mean anything or was it just because I was in the room with him?” Steve says into the phone, and pops another Pringles chip into his mouth. With Eddie constantly pushing food on him for some reason, he’s gotten in the habit of snacking even when his charge is taking a midday nap. 

“Steve,” Robin sighs. “I mean this in the least chauvinist way possible, but you sound like a teenage girl right now despite being literally neither of those things. But I’ve gotta tell you, like I told my friend Becky when she was desperate for Adam Hurley to notice her…” She sighs again. “From the depths of my soul, I do not know.”

Groaning, he lets his head thunk against the wall next to the phone. “You’re supposed to be my gay wingwoman here, Birdie. I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“And you think I do?! Steve, you’ve kissed thousands—”

He makes a wounded noise. 

“—Hundreds?”

He groans again. 

“Whatever! You’ve kissed a lot of girls and I have kissed zero, despite wanting to very, very much. You’ve kissed zero boys, and guess what! That’s also my number, and I have no desire to ever let it go any higher. My fields of expertise are so far away it’s not even on this map.”

Steve lifts his head again with a sigh. “Unless you need kissing practice before a big date,” he offers absently while running a hand through his hair. 

“That is—No, Steve, no. That’s not a thing. Who have you practiced kissing with?”

“Uh, Tommy, when he was trying to get the balls to ask Carol out the first time.” He pauses, thinking. “And the second. Apparently he underperformed.”

“Oh my god. First of all, oh my god you have kissed a boy, so shut up. Second, oh my god is that not a heterosexual thing to do with your guy friends, I can’t believe it took you so long to realize you might be bi. Third, oh my god Steve.”

He’s almost snickering at her by the time she’s done, audibly flailing and dramatic in a way that eases the anxiety twisting his stomach. (And another stack of Pringles helps too.) 

~

With Eddie still needing help when it comes to… bathroom activities, there isn’t a lot of either of them that the other hasn’t seen. It just doesn’t really occur to Steve that this goes both ways until he first starts realizing that the swim trunks he dons for helping Eddie in the shower—basically he’s a glorified safety bar, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling except for when he helps wash Eddie’s everything from the shoulders up—are getting a little snug. 

Kind of a lot snug, actually, and when did that happen?

Steve ponders this long after noticing it. Hair dry and camped out on the couch, watching some nerdy fantasy movie with puppets that he’d brought home from work because he’d thought Eddie might like it. Meanwhile, Eddie is stretched out over most of the couch with his head pillowed on Steve’s thigh, completely enthralled. But that isn’t stopping him from occasionally holding up the snack cake in his hand for Steve to take a bite. Or a handful of buttery popcorn. Or some of the Twizzlers that Eddie doesn’t even like, they’re Steve’s favorite. Or or or. 

Eddie is always feeding him, is the thing. Especially after they’ve smoked up, which they have today. (Hawkins’ premier dealer might have been forced into early retirement, but Argyle is amazingly generous with his stash.) And Steve keeps letting it happen because, really, he gets it. Going from independent to needing help with literally everything is a pretty big blow; he knows that from all the times he’s been looked after post-concussions, getting frustrated with all the hovering even though he understands why it’s necessary. So while Steve is taking care of Eddie, if Eddie wants to balance that out a little by taking care of him in some way, fair enough. Steve is all for whatever keeps him from being a cranky patient, because he gets the feeling that an Eddie actively trying to be difficult is not something he wants to endure. 

And it’s… It’s nice. This might be the rose colored glasses of his awkward and embarrassing crush on the guy talking, but Steve likes Eddie’s little attempts to take care of him. 

“Mountain Dew?” Eddie asks, shifting his head and holding up his can with the bright red crazy straw in the shape of a guitar. Steve had seen it at Melvalds, next to a blue one in the shape of a race car, and bought both on a whim. The latter is still in his empty Coke can on the coffee table; he hadn’t wanted to disturb Eddie by getting up just to grab another one. 

“Thanks,” Steve says genuinely, because the saltiness of the popcorn has really made him thirsty. It’s nice to think that Eddie noticed, even if it might just be a coincidence. 

~

It’s not a coincidence.

Eddie wants Steve to be able to relax. Sure, he’s the one who nearly died, but he’d only had to deal with the Upside Down for a week before supergirl ended things for good; Steve has been living with this for years. It’s stamped into the nightmares that Eddie knows Steve gets too, and the way he goes far away and thoughtful sometimes, and the nailbat that goes in the umbrella stand by the door when he’s home, the trunk of the beemer when he’s not. 

So Eddie pays attention to what Steve likes and makes sure he gets it. Snacks, extras, and treats. Weed to take the edge off every once in a while; if it also keeps Eddie from crawling out of his skin on days when the pain gets bad, so much the better. And asking Steve to make heavier dishes (because Eddie’s doctor recommended rich meals to build his strength back up) at the end of the day means they both have a heavier sleep, fewer bad dreams. 

When the signs of all those indulgences start to show on Steve’s body, Eddie welcomes them. They share a bed every night now, and often Eddie wakes first just to linger against Steve next to him, lightly run both hands over his friend’s softer torso, and smile dreamily to himself because it’s a reminder that all the awful shit is over and done. 

Which is why he also pretends to still be asleep on the mornings when Steve wakes with a jolt and surreptitiously checks him over for open wounds. Steve was the one who held his bleeding, ruined body together on the frantic drive between the former Munson trailer and the hospital; it left an indelible mark. That’s why they spend so much time together, Eddie figures. All that trauma bonding is powerful shit. 

And also, his continent-sized crush.  Which he’s trying to rein in, but honestly? He really does want the Greco-Roman fantasy of lounging around feeding grapes to Steve Harrington. Firm ones, still fridge-cold, because that’s how Steve likes them. And day by day, Steve seems more and more open to just. Letting him do that. 

It’s driving Eddie crazy. When the tips of his fingers touch Steve’s lips, he has to wrestle down the urge to slide them inside, wet them, slide them slickly over the other man’s skin on the way to grabbing his chin and pulling him into a kiss. When he rests his head on Steve’s lap for movie time, reveling in how those already bitable thighs are becoming even more comfortable beneath him, it’s all he can do not to forget the movie and roll over to nuzzle at Steve’s growing belly, to say ‘Look at this. Look at us. We’re safe now, it’s okay, you can keep letting go. I like it.’

But alas, they’re not an ‘us.’ And Eddie doesn’t feel physically up to the task of rolling over without help. And Steve is probably straight. 

~

“Steve’s straight, right?” Eddie asks Robin bluntly one night, in the gap between movies while the man in question is in the kitchen making more popcorn and heating up Bagel Bites and jalapeno poppers. It’s not going to take long, so he doesn’t have the time to beat around the bush.

Robin blinks at him. “What?”

“Because I’m not,” he continues, popping carefully up on his elbows to see her better in the easy chair across from the couch. His pulse picks up a little because he doesn’t exactly have a lot of practice coming out—but between a recent near death experience and Robin pinging his gaydar, he can soldier through. “And you know how we’re living in each other’s pockets right now, I know you’ve seen it and there’s no way the two of you haven’t talked about it because you live in each others’ brains. It’s kind of killing me to not know if it means anything. So if he’s one hundred percent, not even slightly on the fence, not even within sight of the fence, please, as one Upside Down survivor to another, please tell me right now so I can back off and give my heart a break. And please never tell him I asked because if the answer is no I will make absolutely sure it’s not a big deal. I don’t want to fuck things up by being off-base about this. Okay? Just, hurry up and just tell me because he’ll be back in any second, Birdie, please.”

It’s a word-vomit worthy of… well, the person he just unloaded it on. But to her credit, she only stares at him for another moment before fully processing it all and un-dropping her jaw. 

“I’m not either,” Robin says in a low voice, “and Steve knows, and he’s cool with it. Officially, that’s all I can say.”

Eddie grits his teeth against an impatient groan. “And unofficially?”

Her eyes flick towards the kitchen and back, mouth twisted in conflicted thought. “... He is aware of the fence,” she says finally, quietly, and as much as it looks like it pains her to betray that confidence, Eddie can also tell she’s holding back a smile. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers half to himself, not bothering to restrain his own smile at the prospect of having even a sliver of a chance. A few months ago he would have considered that wholly impossible, right up there with alternate dimensions brimming with eye-less creatures full of teeth and malice controlled by a ballsack-looking evil mind wizard.

It’s funny, the effect a little perspective can have. 

He’s still propped up and grinning like a maniac when Steve comes back in with snacks, setting a plate and the popcorn bowl with another plate stacked atop it on the coffee table before sitting down with a quiet grunt. “What’s with you?” Steve asks, even while absently patting his thigh for Eddie to lay back down. 

Eddie happily obliges, in no small part because Steve is wearing shorts juuust short enough that leg hair tickles his nose when he snuggles his face in. “Oh, you know me. A mood struck.”

Robin, already reaching for the popcorn, snorts. If they had that same apparently psychic link that she has with Steve, he’s pretty sure she’d be broadcasting ‘Nice save, weirdo’ and a heavy eye roll at him right now. Or she might be anyway, because it’s coming through loud and clear. 

But in an amused way, he thinks. The power of lesbian-gay solidarity.

“Anyway,” Eddie continues, reaching for a Bagel Bite and blowing on it to cool it enough that he can feed to Steve, “what are we watching next?”

~

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie whispers that night, and Steve, though already halfway to asleep, is instantly on alert. 

“Huh, yeah?” he asks with a yawn, starting to sit up. It feels like he’s moving through molasses. “Do you need your meds? Or like… new pillow?” 

“No man, just wanna tell you something.”

Oh. He lets his body drop gracelessly back down, like a puppet with his strings cut. Thank fuck, because if he’d had to walk somewhere in this weird half-asleep, half-addrenaline-buzzed state he probably would’ve run into some doorframes. “M’kay, shoot.”

In the dark, Eddie chuckles at him. “You really are an action first, figure it out later kinda guy, aren't ya?” There’s a shuffling noise, and Steve feels a fun sized candy bar from Eddie’s bedside table being pressed into his hand. Presumably as an apology for startling him from almost-sleep. “Listen, uh… I came out to Robin earlier today, and she came out to me and said you know too. Figured I should keep you in the loop. So… I’m gay.” And even though there’s not enough light in the room, Steve can tell he’s doing something showy with his hands, a silent ‘ta-daaa.’ It’s very Eddie. 

Steve unwraps the candy on autopilot and puts it in his mouth to keep his heart from leaping up his throat. He may be new to the whole being into guys thing himself, but it’s a good sign that his crush at least has the capacity to like him back. He’d been worried about that, no matter what Robin had to say about vibes. But, hey, it turns out she’s right—which he fully intends to use against her when it comes to Vicky, because who’s to say he isn’t right about Robin’s crush too? Maybe that’s why they were destined to become soulmates with a capital P, because on their own they’re hopeless but together they at least have each other’s backs.

“Oh,” he says belatedly, remembering he’s supposed to actually respond to something like this. (“Steve? You OD over there?”) “Thanks for telling me, man. That’s really cool.”

Eddie chuckles again, gentle and close. “Not really the popular opinion around these parts, but I appreciate the sentiment, Stevie.”

“No, I mean… it’s cool that you told me,” he whispers back. He’s blushing, and wonders if Eddie can tell. Because it’s dark, but maybe it comes through in his voice, or something? And they’re so close, Eddie is always burrowing into personal space left and right like it’s a mere suggestion—not that Steve minds, he’s just not sure if it means anything. He hasn’t known Eddie long enough, or in more context than either having the worst week of his life or bedridden, to be able to tell. “And, like, that’s cool by me, in case you were worried.”

It makes him feel trustworthy, when he knows that three years ago he wouldn’t have been. Not with something like this. 

It makes him feel like the least he can do is show the same confidence in Eddie. 

“I, um.” Steve clears his throat. The taste of chocolate is thick on his tongue, sweet like a promise. “I’m bisexual.”

In the long pause that follows, Steve wishes that he’d waited for daylight, or even just rolled briefly to one side to turn on a lamp. He should’ve waited until he could see the other man’s face and maybe brace himself in whatever reaction flickered there first. It’s the same impulse that had sent him sliding beneath the partition between stalls in the Starcourt bathroom when he’d told Robin he liked her; she hadn’t answered right away and he’d needed to see—

“Ow! Sorry, needed to pinch myself there,” Eddie whispers, sounding like it does when he hides behind his hair—but in the good way, Steve’s pretty sure. “Really?”

Despite the dark and the blush on his face, that makes Steve crack a smile. “Yeah. Girls and guys.”

Their arms bump, a deliberate move on Eddie’s part since rolling over to face him requires too many of the muscles that were chewed on by bats, would mean putting pressure on the healing skin grafts on his side. “Any guys in particular?”

Which makes Steve’s breath catch in his throat because… he hadn’t expected Eddie to ask, let alone in such a hopeful tone. 

Because, sure, Eddie just told him he’s gay. That doesn’t mean he likes Steve, the same way Steve’s reputation of liking any girl that walks and talks is complete bullshit. First of all, there’s that reputation. Second, they have nothing in common except living space, the kids, and a few near death experiences. Third—and this one really makes Steve want to squirm—he doesn’t exactly look his best these days. There are the scars, and the way he’s been putting on weight lately that pulls awkwardly at the puckered skin, making irregular stretch marks bloom in weird, unpredictable squiggles and curves. He’s getting a belly, something he’d kind of half figured out was inevitable based on his dad and the story told across years of professionally taken family photos, but it’s coming in about a decade sooner than he’d expected. He’s only twenty but looks like he’d imagined he would at thirty; has already had to size up his clothes a couple times and everything.

Well. At least with Eddie close by every night he’s been sleeping fairly well, so the bags under his eyes aren’t as dark and deep as they had been. And none of the men in his family, either side, have receding hairlines, so at least his best feature is safe. 

“Just one,” he murmurs, blood roaring in his ears.

“Yeah?”

And Steve has never been one to hold back, so he takes a deep breath. Figures they’re close enough friends now that even if Eddie doesn’t feel the same way, he’ll be more flattered than weirded out and they’ll be able to get past it. Hopefully, anyway… Steve has too few friends his own age as it is. 

“I kinda have a crush on you, Eds.”

After a short pause, Eddie shifts a little next to him and—

“Ow!” Steve hisses, twitching his arm away from the sudden pinch. He’s still whispering, even though there’s no one else in the house. “Dude, what the hell?!”

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers back. “I needed to make sure you aren’t asleep before I accidentally made things super uncomfortable.”

“How would you—” And then he feels a tug, the other man’s hand fisting in his sleep shirt and pulling him closer. Not that Eddie has the arm strength to actually do that right now, but it’s such a surprise that Steve just goes with it, leaning over until their mouths bump together in the dark. 

It’s a whole new kind of shock, a bucket of ice water and hot sparks flickering along his spine, zinging nerves and chapped lips. Steve gasps into the fumbling press of lips, sways back, then ducks forward in a more coordinated effort and kisses Eddie for real. Sinks into the moment as a hand, ringless for the night, twines into the hair at the base of his skull, blunt nails scratch lightly at his scalp as Eddie curls his fingers into Steve’s hair, and it’s… it’s everything. 

He has to be careful not to sag into the kiss, mindful of Eddie’s injuries even though he wants to sink in closerthanthis and never leave. Can’t remember the last time something so simple lit him up like this, because everything but the immediate present is blurred out, insignificant. And Eddie’s other hand finds his hip, pressing in where he’s gotten softer but tugging weakly, undeterred. Steve takes the hint and shifts until he’s cautiously plastered to the other man’s side. 

“This okay?” he breathes against Eddie’s lips, still close enough to taste the traces of chocolate that Eddie sucked off his tongue. “Am I hurting you?”

“Not hurting. You’re healing me, baby,” Eddie coos into his mouth and guides him back in for more.

~

The next morning Eddie wakes to breakfast in bed. It’s not an unusual occurrence, but instead of propped up on pillows against the headboard, he leans happily back against Steve while he eats chocolate chip pancakes and feeds him two bites for every one of his own. 

“They’re supposed to be for you,” Steve tries to protest, the first time Eddie nudges a syrup-sticky forkful against his lips. 

“And I’m enjoying them a lot, sweetheart,” Eddie replies with a smile. “But you made me a stack that’s practically two feet tall and I am but one man. So be a dear and help me out here, hmm? I’ll even throw in a smooch to sweeten the deal.”

Steve mutters something about his sweet tooth being taken advantage of here, but accepts a bite without the next time Eddie brings it in, this time with a little vroom vroom here comes the airplane. Smiling around the sticky mouthful and protesting in a muffled, faux-aggrieved tone that, “Planes don’ go vroom Ed, tha’s cars.”

Grinning so wide it makes the scar on his cheek pull, not exactly comfortable but he doesn’t care, Eddie gives Steve the promised smooch. Like their first kiss last night, he tastes like chocolate. 

“Shush,” he chides playfully, licking at Steve���s sticky lips. “You’re mine now, Steve Harrington. I’m gonna take as good care of you as you do of me, and I’m gonna marry you someday.”

“O-oh.” Steve blushes. The sight of red filling in behind his constellations of freckles and moles is captivating. 

“Yeah, oh.” Eddie kisses him again. “You just wait until I’m all healed up, big boy, and I’ll show you how hard I can rock your world. Trust me, you’ll want to keep me around and once you get the full Eddie Munson experience.”

Despite still being visibly flustered, Steve swallows and shakes his head at him with a laugh. “Okay okay, Jesus. Put the lines away, you’ve already got me.”

“Yeah? You promise?”

Steve returns the kiss with a happy hum, lets Eddie pepper more kisses on his cheek. “Mm. Hook, line, and sinker.”

And Eddie meant it about rocking his world; what he wouldn’t give to writhe beneath this gorgeous man right now, nuzzle into luxurious chest hair, bite at his nipples until they’re red and pebbled, rub and squeeze his softening belly and thighs and arms and jawline, roll him over and ride him into the mattress. Or pound him into it, he’s not picky. He can see it in his mind’s eye, feels the banked fire it stokes… but he’s sore all over. The ache in his body has the pervasive depth of chewed-up muscles and lifesaving sutures, and it dams up that want long before it can get all the way to his dick, so. 

It’s a little frustrating, but for the most part he’s content with what they have so far. Steve’s never done this with a guy—and Eddie’s never done this period—so taking it slow isn’t the worst idea. 

He snuggles into Steve’s cuddly embrace a bit more as resumes making a dent in their shared breakfast. They can figure everything out together, one step (and one bite) at a time. 

~

It takes a year. Eddie does all of his PT exercises religiously, and he still has to walk with a cane but that’s miles better than being carried or wheeled everywhere. His Stevie is still strong enough to lift him, of course, but now that Eddie is back to a healthy weight it takes more out of him, and Eddie is prone to pouting when that’s the reason for Steve huffing and puffing. 

No, he likes it much more like this, in Steve’s room because he has finally made those goddamn stairs his bitch. Cozied up to his boyfriend after dinner, dirty dishes stacked on the desk to deal with later, Steve panting a little as he focuses on digesting. Eddie loves every second of it as he reaches down to unbutton his sweetheart’s jeans for the day, noting how they’re already straining and mentally adding the next size up to tomorrow’s shopping list. Because he can show his face in public again, name cleared and everything, and buy whatever they need with the government payout that finally came through. 

“Think I… overdid it a li’l,” Steve mumbles, his voice strained and airy. He rubs a slow hand over the top of his belly to try and ease some of the pressure. Sighs as Eddie helps by gently peeling down the constricting denim a little more in front, letting the bit of tummy still tucked into his briefs to bulge through. Steve brings his other hand up to stifle a burp behind one loosely curled fist. 

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” Eddie assures him with a smile, pleased to the brim that he’d enjoyed the meal so much. “Need anything?” 

Steve smiles back, but there’s a hint of self-consciousness in it that just won’t do. “Nah, I’m good.” 

Even after a year of safety, Steve still has a hard time being doted on sometimes. It comes from years of low-key parental neglect, Eddie thinks, and a lingering instinct to ‘be a man’ and fill that protector role twenty-four seven. But that, Steve has agreed, is no longer necessary now that the Upside Down is gone. So he tries to relax. 

Sometimes that looks like Eddie laying him back in bed, sweetly fussing him into the perfect position, and making sure he eats his fill and a little extra. On those nights, Steve’s gaze goes soft and unfocused while still opening his mouth for whatever Eddie wants to give him, knowing—trusting—that it will be good, that he isn’t taking too much. 

But tonight, Eddie can tell that he needs a little more to hang onto. 

“Baby,” Eddie starts, clambering around not-so-gracefully-(but-at-least-he-can-do-it) to kneel between Steve’s splayed legs. “You are perfect, you know that?” Scooching down, he leans in and kisses the soft swell of Steve’s lower belly where it rolls out over the top of his underwear, bare where his shirt had long ago ridden up. “Always have been, always will be.”

Steve shivers beneath his continuing kisses, cheeks reddening as he looks away. “Not really the popular opinion. First of all, everyone knows I was a douchebag in high school.” He bites his lip and drops his gaze back to Eddie. From this angle, head inclined to look down, he has a full double chin beneath his round face, pretty face. “And I… I know I…”

Eddie waits for a moment after he peters out, then finishes it: “You’re beautiful. Whatever you look like, because you’re you.” And reaches up, turning Steve’s face gently back when he tries to look away again. “It’s all you, Steve, and I love you.”

Steve’s hazel eyes go wide, breath catching. It’s not the first time Eddie has said it, not really… Not like this, with the exact words and making direct eye contact and in his knees, kissing and nipping gently, devotedly at mole-dotted skin. But it’s also the first time Steve touched on this insecurity that doesn’t always come so close to the surface, the one that takes too much and makes it literal. 

Eddie stares him down while kissing over the tight jut of his full stomach, his soft sides and chest, murmuring nonstop praise along the way. Hands stroking along behind and coaxing out moans and burps until the tension in Steve’s body shifts from self-conscious back to that heady space of more, more, more. “Wanna feel you all over, Stevie, every inch. You drive me so fucking crazy you don’t even—” 

He cuts himself off with a claiming kiss at Steve’s panting mouth, tasting. Savoring. More. 

And that’s when his own need peaks, crests, and sends his hands back down to the waistband of the straining briefs. Snapping it just enough to draw a gasp and a wobble from his boyfriend before yanking them down, shoving hard. Shoving the jeans with them, rewarding Steve by licking devotion into his mouth when the other man takes his cue and rocks to lift his ass one wide cheek at a time. It’s enough to get the clothes gone, so Eddie can reach and take him in hand where he’s hard and flushed, wet from how much he’s leaking. 

Steve was trembling already. He shakes harder the second Eddie begins to stroke, spreading his thick legs as wide as he can—not very, these days. But still, he’s too full to jerk his hips into the ringed grip that's wringing an increasingly louder series of “ah ah ah”s out of him. Plump and jiggling body stuffed to where he could move, but doesn’t want to, just lets the sensations wash through him, lets himself be swamped by it, overflows into Eddie’s hand. And Eddie gets to watch, gets to feel it as Steve shudders, lips parted in a seemingly never ending moan that reverberates out from the depths of him, low and hot. 

Eddie wants to swallow it. Bottle it. Fucking get drunk off it, like he has almost every night (and some mornings, and some afternoons) ever since he started feeling up to it again. Shove it back to Steve, pumping into his hungry body—like everything else he’s given his boyfriend. His love, his food, his dick…

Then Steve is sucking on his tongue like it’s a lollipop, and Eddie is sinking against him to grind the hard-on still trapped in his own jeans against Steve’s soft body, making him grunt, and Eddie is gone. Comes so hard his vision whites out and he cries brokenly into Steve’s mouth. Sees goddamn stars. Just barely remembers to roll to the side instead of dropping his full weight on Steve, but plasters himself to the other man’s side all the same, face tucked in tight to Steve’s neck to taste the heady scent of him on every inhale. 

He drifts for a little while, mind hazy and buoyed up on all the feel-good hormones of an award-winning orgasm with a better partner than he ever could have dreamed of finding. Imagining what Steve could look like wearing a second year of his love, and a third, and— God, he’s still feeling the aftershocks, and even though it veers him immediately into so overstimulated he can’t hold back a whine, Eddie clutches tighter and grinds against Steve’s plush hip, just a little. 

Give him a few more minutes and he will get going again, desperate to spill his load directly on his boyfriend’s skin this time, over his belly or buried in his navel, and then clean him up with his tongue. Feed it to him in an insistent kiss and then finger one of them open for round three. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, the things you do to me,” Eddie whimpers, prompting Steve to chuckle sleepily and wedge a thick arm beneath him to hold them together close. 

In a minute, Eddie will get up and clean both of them up. Help Steve to roll onto his side and get the weight off his lungs so he can breathe better, fall asleep and digest. And Eddie will cuddle up behind him until Steve is practically molded to Eddie’s front, chest to back, hips to hips, Eddie’s knees tucked into the bend of Steve’s. 

For now everything is perfect and still and warm, and Eddie knows, blearily but happily, that he’s going to make an honest man out of Steve Harrington the second it becomes legal. 

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello I love your short fics you do with LeonxReader. I also saw your “tired, trying and internally dying” and it describes me perfectly. I was also wondering if you would do a LeonxReader with some injury/angst and Leon or reader whoever is the injured one making jokes to try and lighten the situation??? Please and thank you💖💖

I appreciate that you enjoy my little Leon x reader stuff and Ngl I made that motto up on the fly when making this blog and now I’m only seemingly to live up to it nowadays 😂

Tw: Hatchets being thrown, injuries, violence, gun violence and reader having a gun.

‘Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not good etiquette to greet guests with such hostility?’ You taunted the villager just as he threw his hatchet at your head but you moved out of it’s trajectory in the nick of time. ‘Ha! You missed!’ You exclaimed which would’ve proved in making the villager pissed, but you noticed the sinister look in his eyes as they moved over your shoulder before a sickeningly satisfied smirk stretched across his face.

Just then a pained shout came from behind you and your blood ran cold. ‘Leon?’ You said under your breath and the smile on the villagers face seemed to only grow, as though he was confirming your worst fear; A scowl then replaced your worried expression as your jaw clenched tightly and your blood began to boil out of anger.

‘Say good night you son of a bitch.’ You snarled as you were quick in drawing your gun before putting a couple of well placed bullets through the man’s head, chest and legs in rapid fire succession; Taking an unsettling amount of enjoyment as he fell off the side of the castle battlements and into the veil of smog below before a faint thud could be heard, indicating that the bastard was well and truly dead.

‘Hey, if your done patting yourself on the back, I’m still very much hurt and would very appreciate if my lovely partner would offer me a helping hand, if that’s not too much to ask for?’ Leon’s voice brought you out of your own head and you were quick to look at him; only for your eyes to focus on the handle of the hatchet that stuck out from his shoulder whilst the steel blade was buried deep into his flesh.

‘Oh my god, Leon.’ You said hurriedly as you rushed to his side, trying not to openly express your internal fretting over him but you obviously weren’t doing so well in keeping your composure, as Leon attempted a smile before placing his hand on your shoulder. ‘It’s no biggie, having a hatchet in your shoulder and all.’ He shrugs with his uninjured shoulder. ‘It could’ve been a hell of a lot worse, so I’d give this experience a five out of ten.’

‘Will you quit it with the joking?’ You said, not finding any of this even remotely funny as you gestured to the hatchet in his shoulder. ‘You’re hurt, seriously hurt-‘

‘oh is that what this searing pain in my shoulder is? I wouldn’t have guessed. Thank you for educating me doctor, you really saved my life.’ Leon cuts you off sarcastically and you looked at him with raised brows and arms crossed over your chest as you impatiently tapped your foot. ‘Your ability to run your mouth hasn’t seemed to be hindered much for an injured man, so you should be up to continuing the mission right?’ You told him, flashing a false smile as you patted his chest rather harshly, causing Leon to wince upon each impact of your hand.

‘No, I would like it very much if my partner got me medical attention before I decided to pull this fucker out myself and bleed to death.’ Leon retorted, mimicking you by raising his brows and tapping his foot. The sight was quite humorous that you had to stifle a chuckle behind you hand because of it, before regaining your composure as you then sighed loudly as you moved yourself to Leon’s side and usher him to where you met the merchant last.

Yet with how slow Leon was taking his strides, you couldn’t help but crack a joke at his expense. ‘C’mon grandpa, it’s time for your daily medication.’ Leon scoffed but couldn’t help the smile that slip onto his lips when he noticed how much you’ve calmed down since first seeing his injury; Being a little pain in the arse seemed to have finally pay off in his favour.

‘You’ve been waiting to make that joke you, haven’t you?’ Leon asked, voice light in humour as he gauged your reaction.

‘Maybe.’ You responded, neither denying nor confirming.

‘Bitch.’ Leon said.

‘Jerk.’ You replied.

[beanjang-draws]

Plague Ponies - Research

CONTENT WARNINGS: no gore

Previous | Next

Summary:

Twilight doesn’t want to admit it, but things in Equestrian haven’t been in tip-top shape recently. It looks like even Princess Celestia has judged that the news cycle has been too grim as of late, as she’s instructed Twilight not to make a public statement about the number of ponies who fell ill after the Everfree attack.

With the help of her number one assistant, Twilight tries to figure out how exactly to quietly prep for an epidemic when they both remember: Granny Smith is super old! She must know what to do? Wait, Pinkie? What are you doing here?!

Twilight and Pinkie end up going to Sweet Apple Acres together, where Twilight is given a book that just might contain the answers she needs. Now to decide her next course of action…should she go back to the orchard and head home now, or should she indulge for just a second in Apple Bloom’s request to check on her project?

Transcript below:

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you for understanding, Doctor. I’ll send word immediately if anything changes.

Greymare: Of course, Princess. We appreciate your generosity. Everything should be ready within the week.

Twilight: Of course. If you’re in need of any more funds, tell the distributors to contact me.

Doctor Greymare bids his farewells to Princess Twilight and takes his leave. Twilight heads back inside the library, where Spike is looking on with concern.

Spike: Twilight…are you sure we shouldn’t tell everypony now? If everypony in Ponyville really is infected, shouldn’t they all know?

Twilight Sparkle: I don’t like delaying things either, Spike, but you read Princess Celestia’s letter out yourself. Our priority is to avoid panic until we know we can answer their inevitable questions.

Spike: I guess that makes sense…hearing about another disaster after the last string of disasters would make everypony totally freak out!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike!

Spike: What? Im agreeing with you! It’s a bad idea to tell everypony about an epidemic after a discord came back, got better, accidentally caused the princesses’ kidnappings, delayed the Summer Sun Celebration—

Twilight Sparkle: SPIKE

Spike lets up after Twilight’s outburst, looking amused as she takes a breath to collect herself.

Twilight Sparkle: Maybe things haven’t been the most…stable, lately, but the princesses have everything under control. Plus, I’ve been reading up on epidemiology and it’s normal for new pathogens to crop up every few decades. We just have to be prepared for them!

Spike: Oh, perfect! You’re the most prepared pony I know!

Twilight loses her composure entirely.

Twilight Sparkle: BUT I’M NOT PREPARED! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF PONYVILLE NOW, BUT I CAN’T EVEN KEEP IT SAFE. ALL I’VE DONE IS LEARN TO FLY AND MEMORIZE PRINCESS ETIQUETTE. THAT’S NOT GOING TO HELP ANYPONY!

Spike: Hey, you’ve been busy saving all of Equestria! You didn’t prepare for that either, but it went fine in the end because of your friends.

Twilight Sparkle: I guess so…

Spike: If these diseases pop up every now and then, Ponyville must have had some experience with this sort of thing before. You just finished talking to Doctor Greymare, right? Maybe he could help.

Twilight Sparkle: That’s just the thing, Spike. He said he hasn’t heard of anything like this before, at least not while he’s been running the hospital.

Spike: Is there anypony who might know what happened before him?

Twilight Sparkle: You would have to be ancient to remember anything further back than that. You’ve have to be…

The cogs in Twilight’s head begun to turn, and she and Spike come to the same conclusion simultaneously.

Twilight Sparkle and Spike: Somepony old like Granny Smith!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, you’re a genius!

Spike: Bah, this is just a run of the mill performance from your number one assistant.

Twilight Sparkle: We should head to Sweet Apple Acres right now—

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie bursts in out of nowhere.

Pinkie Pie: TWILIGHT!!!! SOMETHING BIG IS COMING!!!!!!! THE FATE OF PONYVILLE DEPENDS ON IT

Spike: Pinkie, could you bring down the volume a little? My ears have been sensitive lately…

Pinkie Pie: Oh, sorry, Spike! The fate of Ponyville depends on it!

Spike: Thanks

Twilight Sparkle: Is it your Pinkie sense? Can you feel something bad coming?

Pinkie Pie: Yes! It’s big! Huge! Even bigger and huger than the time you believed in my Pinkie sense!

Spike: Wow, that IS big.

Twilight Sparkle: Well, if it’s so serious, we should tell everypony to stay indoors for the time being.

Pinkie Pie: Waaay ahead of you, Twilight! I already warned everypony not to take any unnecessary journeys on the way here.

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you Pinkie, you’ve saved us a lot of time. Now we can—

Pinkie Pie: —consult Granny Smith for her firsthoof account on Ponyville’s history of health and safety protocols?

Twilight Sparkle: …I won’t even ask. Yes, Pinkie, we’re doing just that.

Pinkie Pie: That’s a great idea, Twilight! Lead the way :3

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, let’s get to Sweet Apple Acres.

Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle begin to clear out to head to the farm. Twilight notices Spike hasn’t made moves to join them, so she sticks her head back inside to check on him.

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, aren’t you coming?

Spike: You know, Twilight, if staying indoors is so important, I think I’d better stay here and…make sure Owlowicious doesn’t go wandering around while you’re gone.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, number one assistant! I’m leaving the library under your watch. We shouldn’t be gone too long.

It looks like most Ponyville Residents have caught wind of Pinkie’s warnings! Twilight and Pinkie only see a few ponies out and about on their way to Sweet Apple Acres. this far out, the news hasn’t yet reached the Apples, who are occupied with a busy apple bucking season.

Applejack: Howdy y’all! What brings you down to the farm?

Pinkie Pie: My Pinkie sense has been going off all morning! Im not sure what this one means!

Twilight Sparkle: But I think I could figure it out. AJ, could I talk to Granny Smith?

Applejack: Sure thing! She shouldn’t have hunkered down for her afternoon nap just yet.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, girls, I’ll be right back.

Pinkie Pie: I’ll stay with Applejack and lend a hoof with the apples!

Applejack: You know what, that’d be mighty helpful of you, Pinkie! Big Mac’s been sick, so I’ve been buckin’ these trees all on my own!

Twilight goes off to see Granny Smith on her own.

Twilight Sparkle: Hello, Granny Smith! Sorry to barge in on you like this..

Granny Smith: Not at all, dearie. In fact, you ought to visit more often! I hear so much about you from Apple Bloom, you really should stay for supper one of these days and tell us about your lessons yourself!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. I’ll make sure to visit more often. Unfortunately, I didn’t come by just to say hi today. I actually did have a few questions for you.

Granny Smith: Of course! Ask away, dear, I’m all ears.

Twilight Sparkle: Have there ever been any emergency health and safety protocols in Ponyville?

Granny Smith: Emergency what now?

Twilight Sparkle: Have there been any outbreaks of sickness in Ponyville in the past? Did the town have a way of dealing with them?

Granny Smith: Oh! You just mean the plague ponies. Hold on dear, I know I’ve got a book back here somewhere…it’s been sitting collecting dust! A sign of better times, I reckon…now if only I could find it…

Granny Smith begins rummaging around the house looking for the aforementioned book.

Twilight Sparkle: I think this might be just the thing I need! I haven’t heard of plague ponies before. None of my books mention them at all.

Granny Smith: Oh, your fancy city books wouldn’t have anything on this.

Granny Smith returns with a beat up looking book on hoof.

Granny Smith: I knew I still had one laying around!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. Um, what it is?

Granny Smith: It’s a home remedy book! Back when the town was first settling, we had all sorts of sicknesses popping up. Prob’ly from all the different ponies coming together. Without much of a way to reach Canterlot yet, we couldn’t get aid from the big city for any fancy doctor magic.

Twilight Sparkle: Oh…I had no idea that happened.

Granny Smith: Heh-heh…I’m not surprised they didn’t teach you this in your Canterlot history classes…What city pony aid we lacked, we made up for in home remedies. We each of us came together and pooled our knowledge in books like these. Here, you take this. This one’s got some of my own notes in it. Maybe you could add your own!

Twilight Sparkle: I couldn’t possibly take this from you! It’s a part of your history…

Granny Smith: It’s yours, too. And it’s doing nopony any good collecting dust with me. Just promise me to read every bit of it.

Twilight Sparkle: …Thank you, Granny. I will.

Granny Smith: Alright, now I’m off to hit the hay. Apple Bloom, you should show Twilight your plant project in the barn!

Granny Smith turns to go and take her afternoon nap. Apple Bloom appears, eager to get her turn talking to Twilight.

Twilight Sparkle: Ooh, have you figured out how to get your subjects to multiply?

Apple Bloom: I sure did!! I made the adjustments you told me to and added a little something of my own! You’ve gotta come and see it!!

POLL: Should Twilight go see Apple Bloom’s Project?

RESULT: Yes

End transcript

[emry-stars-art]

YES, PLEASE AND THANK YOU @snazzy-jas-z-is-a-fan-of !!

(Find the royal au writing masterpost here 💕)

And I’ll do an art-only version of this post for your reblogging pleasure here :) there's always always more to be said about this so I might make another post on the same topic but later

Anyway onto the juicy stuff

Okay so. Evermore and Palmetto both have glove etiquette, but in Evermore Nathaniel never had to worry about it, because he was expected to constantly be wearing gloves from first day he’s able to after getting nasty scars on his hands. Except for when he’s working or helping Nathan work. The nobles and specifically Prince Riko made it clear that they had no desire to see how ugly his hands were. (This is also why he has a habit of wearing a little of his hair down on the left side; it helped cover the scars on his cheek that ruined his pretty complexion.)

Then he comes to Palmetto and Day introduces him to a whole new set of rules. Gloves are a common and important part of dress and fashion, but people are also able to decide whether or not to wear them at any given time. The only real rules on gloves are when not to wear them; you always take off gloves to eat or drink, and to offer your hand in greeting or service.

Nathaniel gets to kind of ease into it; he’s not around anyone important enough to need to offer proper greeting or help, so mostly he takes his gloves off to eat in the servants quarters, where he doesn’t deal with more than curious glances. There’s a lingering fear of letting anyone important see his hands, no matter what Day says to assure him otherwise.

Then Nathaniel becomes the prince’s guard. Nothing changes for a while - the prince has always been more self-sufficient than most - until one day Nathaniel sees the prince eyeing the fall from his horse. (Really Andrew is trying to get up the courage to dismount, because even if the fall isn’t actually an issue for him, his fear of heights sometimes catches up to him when dismounting horses.) Nathaniel understands by now that he’s allowed and expected to help, so he reaches out - and remembers. He’s also acutely aware that the prince hasn’t yet seen his hands, then also also acutely aware of how serious Day was about the proper etiquette, and slips off his glove. The prince gives his hand a curious look, but accepts the help and all but crushes Nathaniel’s hand in his as he finally makes the fall. Even on the ground, though, he doesn’t let go quickly. Instead, the prince’s thumb brushes once across the back of Abram’s hand and he turns his hold, pulling Nathaniel’s hand up to examine it. The only thing keeping Nathaniel in place is the bone-deep instinct that he isn’t to deny anyone, especially a prince. Maybe the prince would decide he didn’t actually want to see Nathaniel’s hands and Nathaniel could go back to wearing his gloves with little more than a strike to the cheek for making the prince look at them.

But the prince does no such thing. He drops Nathaniel’s hand and continues on as normal. Nathaniel does his best to do the same, but that’s probably the first kind skin to skin contact he’s had in years. He isn’t recovering as quickly as he imagines he should.

(Meanwhile Andrew was NOT about to let an opportunity to hold Nathaniel’s hand slip like that, and he finds that he doesn’t mind the roughness. Most other guards were pulled from a much more privileged crowd - usually who had some callouses or scratches at most. Nathaniel’s hands show Andrew that this one isn’t all bark and no bite. Andrew… really likes them.)

Gradually, Nathaniel (likely soon or now Abram) gets used to taking off his gloves. He doesn’t without reason, it takes him a while not to feel naked without them, but it only takes a few more instances for him to realize that the prince truly doesn’t mind his scars. Helping the prince from his horse becomes easy habit (GS isn’t necessarily tall, but neither is Andrew. No step stool = Abram’s help).

Maybe there’s even a few times Abram is completely gloveless when he’s around only Day or the prince. He finds himself hiding his hands subconsciously when he’s not thinking about it, but he’s never once told to cover up.

Then Abram is kidnapped, taken back to Evermore. All the same rules are enforced and more. In this case, gloves aren’t all that different or upsetting. That much is okay.

It’s when he gets back that things change. Since he’s blind for a while, he’s relying much more on touch and hearing. It’s also a good tactile reminder; if he were still in Evermore, he would never be bare handed. This is when he truly gets used to not wearing gloves. (During this time he’s also touched more gently and more often than ever in his life. Others’ bare hands on his naked skin to care for scars and rashes and fever, first Day and medics and then Day and Prince Andrew. Abram finally, finally realizes that this is what he’d been missing. He actually finds himself calmed and cared for in being touched.)

Even when his sight returns, Abram only wears gloves out of doors or to formal events. Slowly and so, so carefully, Andrew finds more small reasons to touch Abram’s hands, and Abram always finds rationalization to accept. Then Abram even leaves his gloves in his saddlebags or pockets when they go out.

Winter hits. Abram has very few burn scars on his hands, but even the simple knife scars can seize and ache in cold weather. By now Andrew is very attentive to Abram’s pain or discomfort, so he notices. Abram’s hands hurt.

So Andrew buys him new gloves, lined with soft, warm fur. Abram is both pleased and disappointed - pleased because any gift from Andrew is a good gift, and disappointed because the prince expects him to wear gloves again. But the first time Andrew sees Abram wearing them indoors, he says easily, “They’re to keep your hands from the cold. Wear them only as much as you need.” (Because, again; he’s not going to admit it, but he loves Abram’s hands.)

It probably takes a long time for Abram to get accustomed to much more touch. He likes holding the prince’s hand, he’s used to that this far into their courting, but anywhere else with anything more than clinical intent - sometimes including with clinical intent - he gets overwhelmed very easily.

Andrew is careful with him. Like we mentioned in the last post, Andrew’s had about six to eight years longer to get readjusted to wanting and touching; Abram is essentially starting fresh. It’s a lot for him to handle.

(Don’t worry, though, I promise they figure it out. Just like they always do, in every universe, for all of our mental health.)

[teecupangel]

So I have an idea for a watch dogs x ac crossover in which its set post watch dogs but pre ac 1 where Desmond and aiden Pearce are in a relationship that is mostly long distance and in a surprise visit to Desmond’s place he found out he has been missing for a couple weeks so he starts searching and is able to find out that abstergo kidnapped him and is using him in some sort of animus project but that he was also to late to save him because he already escaped so he does what any self respecting hacktivist would do and releases everything into the web

We can do add this to this Aiden x Desmond fic idea we had before if you’d like?

Instead of Aiden seeing Desmond being kidnapped, he finds out Desmond is missing because he hasn’t been answering his calls and texts.

They’re on a long distance relationship since Damien recruited Aiden for this big job and he knew something was up. Desmond was just as paranoid as Aiden (he didn’t specify why but had dropped enough hints for Aiden to understand he’s hiding from his dad) so he leaves Daimen even after Daimen tells him that he can’t leave now, they were so close.

By the time he returns to Desmond’s apartment…

There was no clue left.

The only thing left was…

The beacon in Desmond’s phone that Aiden had thought had gone waywire.

Why else would it be pinging the Abstergo headquarters in Italy?

So he goes to Italy and hacked into Abstergo’s headquarters in Italy.

He doesn’t find Desmond because Desmond had already been taken by a woman named Lucy Stillman.

But he did find internal documents and recordings about the Animus Project and the Subjects…

He knew that Erudito had been looking for these.

The Golden Apple that can destroy Abstergo.

The proper procedure would be to share this with Erudito.

It was hacker etiquette to give other hackers a heads up when one has something that’s connected to their target.

But Aiden didn’t have the time for pleasantry.

So he releases everything into the web.

All the dirty secrets…

Including damning information that points to Lucy Stillman’s true allegiance.

A few hours after he releases everything, his phone rings.

It came from a number he didn’t know.

He still answered it though.

“Aiden?”

His shoulders slumped, the tension in his body slightly relaxing as he greeted back, “Desmond.”

“Hey.” Desmond’s tone was soft before he asked, “So, uh, random question but… did you just hacked Abstergo and released all their dirty laundry for me?”

Aiden chuckled before he answered, “They kidnapped you. I only returned the favor.”

Desmond laughed from the other end of the line before he teased, “You’re so romantic.”

Aiden’s lips curved into a small smile and he listened as Desmond asked, “So… how long are you going to make me wait?”

Aiden looked at his phone and saw that his call locator app had already finished triangulating the cell towers that Desmond’s phone was using, “I’ll be there in 10.”

“Alright. See you soon.”

“Yes… soon.”

[twst-drabbles]

Azul 22

Summary: Azul, in a fashion you’re awfully familiar and annoyed with, tried to be condescendingly coy about your position as janitor.

(So, the heat’s getting so bad that I haven’t stepped into the kitchen at all. There’s no AC there, and with temperatures climbing even higher next week due to my proximity to Mexico, I’ve been relying on snacks and precooked meals. 100 F. On average. I hate it. So much.)

“Though, I do find it rather interesting how you can stay so arrogant in a place where you stand above no one.”

Azul says that like he doesn’t constantly rub his thumb over his contracts. Like he hasn’t panicked when you did a deep clean of his office—at his request—that included touching his safe. Like he isn’t eager to lure in the next scrub that needs something done and willing to give something precious away. Like he hasn’t muttered furiously under his breath when he suspected a contract was missing when in reality, it was in the back of the safe.

You stay away from the business of others because you know of the trouble that will come out of it. This college, from the moment you met the eyes and fake smiles around you, reeked to the skies of egos that that never had to be popped. Because the headmage here refused to dip his hands into the very business he signed up for.

You have a shitload of work to do. You haven’t sat down since you got out of bed this morning. The restaurant Azul owns has just finished for the day and now you’re being paid to do a deep clean again as though he didn’t have any other workers on standby to do that.

You don’t know what the fuck’s going on with this man, but you don’t give enough of a shit to be polite.

“And yet you laugh at me like you’re not my neighbor in this supposed pit.”

Azul didn’t flinch, not like you expect slimy business men such as he to do so. To do the shady stuff he does, he has to be made of tougher stuff, or at least skilled enough with his tongue to turn thing in his favor. Still though, the light pause was enough for you to pick up.

He really thought you were somebody that lets thinly veiled insults fly because of fear of breaching some sort of social etiquette rule.

“…Of course I’m not laughing at you. I have no reason to do such a horrible thing. Though, I have to say, your image of me is quite warped.“

There’s always something grating about people that try to word their insults in this disassociated way, like they’re a birdwatcher or a scientist. Just making an interesting observation, no need to pay them any mind, because if you do, you’re the asshole for supposedly putting words in their mouth.

“Like you know shit about me and what I think. And you don’t even care to know. You’re just pissed and looking for something fun.”

You’ve been temporarily placed in Octavinelle to clean it up for the time being. You can say you’re fairly used to students trying to add more work than you’re required to do. This included Azul, who somehow expected the restaurant he has all rights to be part of cleaning up the dorm.

And you, with every other person that made these assumptions, made them pay extra. Lot of them said no, but Azul said yes with a very low tide of loathing when you didn’t budge an inch.

Authority has never made you give into anything you didn’t want to do. You weren’t going to start now.

“Angry? What gave you that impression? I’m not one to get angry over anything trivial, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Ah, now he’s probing for something. A slip up, any sign of hesitation, perhaps a momentary lapse in confidence? Or maybe he wants you to explode in anger. Oh well, you’re not gonna bother.

“Pay me,” you reached out to Azul with an open palm.

“…What?”

You have to admit, there’s something satisfying about the way he clenched his jaw, like speaking to you was the same as pulling teeth.

“You want my advice on how I can stay ‘arrogant’ in this college while you struggle with your ego, you have to pay me for it.”

[bp-zb1fics]

can I request zihao x slightly older reader (by a year or two) university au where the reader courts him instead because they know zihao reciprocates their feelings but is too shy to make a move? I don't mind if it's gender neutral or female reader. whatever you're comfortable with <3

Sunbaenim~

pairing: dance major wang zihao x film major sunbae reader

pronouns: none used

genre: university au on some crack (same verse as perils of asking) , fluff, humor

tw/tags: some pining, flirting, reader is older than zihao by a year, honorifics, etiquette, a lot of bowing, pray for zhang hao, chaos, kinda slow burn idk, zihao tries his best in korean, mentions of alcohol, cafe date, feeding each other, for plot purposes reader has lived in korea for a long time but you can pretend whether they're from there or moved from overseas!

wc: 3132

summary: you’re wondering why the cute boy from the dance studio hasn’t asked you out. well, guess you'll have to ask him first~

a/n thanks for requesting our underrated dance king wang zihao, man was really robbed of screentime. i kind of experiment with the first part, jumping between povs without any line breaks and then kinda gave up, idk if that worked well lol. zihao's language struggles are canon, literally same ~ also! i'm not an expert in korean hierarchy rules and dating culture, this is based on the fair bit of studying i did + dating experience + research so if anyone knows better, please feel free to point out any inaccuracies!

Check my pinned for more fics~

He’s looking at you again. 

You can see him from the corner where you set up your tripod. Practice is about to begin, dancers scattered across the studio all warming up and not minding you. (I mean, they’re not supposed to). Only him. You catch his eyes. His face flushes and he drops into a bow before falling back into his own stretches. But every so often, his eyes will flick back to you, usually too quick for you to catch them.

It’s almost a routine at this point, a silent ritual you share with the cute boy who dances so powerfully. 

Maybe you’re biased but more often than not, you find yourself pointing your handheld camera in his direction. You’re not looking at him the way he looks at you. Rather, you watch through the screen, while you’re editing and cataloguing footage. He’s easy to watch. 

Sometimes, while you’re packing up, you’ll hear a soft “sunbaenim?” You turn around and he’s standing there. His cheeks are still flushed from practice when he politely asks you for the videos you took of him. It’s not uncommon. You send the full practice videos you take to the dance teachers in exchange for them letting you film. But every so often, students will come up and ask if you have any closer footage of them, wanting to monitor themselves.

He never questions why the videos you send to him are so close up, almost always individually shot footage that has him in the centre of the frame. No, he just bows, thanks you again and leaves, shooting you once last backward glance before he walks out of the studio.

It’s not that Zihao doesn’t want to talk to you.

If anything, he’s wanted to talk to you ever since you started coming to his class. He still remembers the teacher introducing you as a film masters student and saying that you’ve been at the university longer than most of them, making you their sunbaenim. It was a respect thing, he understood. Similar etiquette around senior-junior relationships applied in China as well but he wasn’t as well adjusted to the nuances of the Korean rules

He only transferred about a year and a half ago when he was given the chance to finish his degree in this particularly prestigious program. While basic language skills got him through his mostly practical classes which a bunch of other international students like him were taking, social interactions were another challenge altogether.

“I don’t know what to do, ge.”

“Well you can always start by saying more than may I have the close up choreography videos, sunbaenim? Honestly, I teach you how to say one thing Zihao, and that’s all you can say.”

The younger boy pouts. Zhang Hao had been a literal lifesaver when he had transferred. And well, up until now. They had met at the foreign student society, the older boy had also been at the university for awhile, now studying a masters degree as well. And he spoke excellent Korean, Zihao’s favourite, albeit somewhat reluctant, teacher and translator.

“Ge! You know I can’t speak Korean when I get nervous.”

“You can Zihao, you’re just scared of messing up.”

“Exactly! I can’t mess up with them, ge, they might think I’m weird or something.”

“Zihao. They’ve literally caught you staring at them, multiple times. If they don’t find that weird, then I think you could literally say anything and they’ll just be happy that you’re trying to talk with them. And if they find it weird, then I don’t think you’ll need to understand Korean to get it.”

Zhang Hao made good points. Zihao kinda wished he didn’t. 

Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of your own crisis.

“I just don’t get it,” you say as you comb through your footage. “We’ve had this thing going on for weeks. Why hasn’t he asked me out yet? Or you know, at least said something more than asking for the choreo videos? You know, maybe I’ve been reading all of this wrong, maybe he’s not into me at all. Maybe he’s just interested in cameras or something.” 

Jiwoong hums. You’ve known each other for awhile, having started masters at the same time which made you colleagues even if he was two years your senior. He was an acting major, your classes often worked together.

“From what you’ve been telling me, I think the kid’s just shy, not uninterested.”

“You think?”

You’re editing yet another clip of him, the energy he exudes is just mesmerising. Once again, you’re not biased. The master’s thesis project you were working on centred around capturing the dynamics of body movement and that’s exactly what you were doing.

Jiwoong peeks over your shoulder.

“I think you should ask him out. Or you know, at least make the first move. You’re the sunbaenim after all.”

While he can be a little dumb, Kim Jiwoong makes good points sometimes. You kinda wish now wasn’t one of those times. But what the hell, you’ll give it a shot. 

And if it goes to hell, then you’ll take a shot. Or twenty.

Maybe Zihao should have taken something to make the conversation he’s going to attempt to have easier.

No, he doesn’t mean alcohol, though a bit of liquid courage didn’t sound like a bad idea either. Maybe offering you a hot pack for the cold weather outside or even a little snack would be a nice gesture, start him off on the right foot to talk about something simple like the weather or if you’ve eaten.

Unfortunately, Zihao has neither of those things and therefore, no easy conversation starters. The only thing he has as he walks towards you after class is sheer determination and a voice at the back of his head that sounds vaguely like Zhang Hao telling him to go for it.

“Closeup choreography videos?” You ask before he does, metaphorically pulling the imaginary rug from under him. Whatever half-assed thing he was planning to say promptly disappears from his brain.

“Uh..uhm…yes!” Great, Zihao. Actually no, not great. 

“Sunbaenim! Yes sunbaenim, thank you!” He adds belatedly, wincing as he bows in apology.

When he finally looks up, you don’t seem mad at him for forgetting the honorific. Rather,there’s a small smile on your face as you send him the videos.

“You dance really well by the way. I always have a fun time filming you.” You say as Zihao is about to thank you for the videos. Ah, there goes the rug again. 

“I like your videos.” He manages. I like you. No Zihao, stop. “You do them very good.”

Yeah he definitely needs to work on his Korean. And on being less nervous, maybe, but he’s not sure if he can do anything about that.

“Oh thank you,” You smile even more and his heart really won’t stop jumping. “I hope so.”

He watches as you place the last of your filming equipment into the large bag you bring everytime you come to the studio. Ah, there’s an idea.

“Can I…” You look at him and really, why is he so nervous? “Do you need help with…?”

He gestures at the bag, the exact Korean words escaping him again.

“Oh my bag?”

“Yes! Your bag!....sunbaenim.”

“Ah it’s okay,” you say and Zihao feels his enthusiasm dampen just a little bit. You pause before saying:

“We should talk more. I can text you if that’s okay?”

It takes Zihao a few seconds to translate that and a few more for the meaning of it to sink in.

“Ah yes! It’s okay!”

Maybe he’s a little too enthusiastic now but you don’t seem to mind, the corners of your mouth quirking upward.

“Okay, please wait for my message. I’ll get going first, see you Zihao!”

He waves back and just like that, you’re gone and maybe Zihao’s smiling a little too much but he doesn’t care. He did it. He actually talked to you. And you want to text him which means you want to talk more. The dancer practically bounces out of the studio, reaching for his phone when another thought dawns on him.

Speaking a language was one thing. Texting was a whole other. What if you used abbreviations or slangs that he didn’t know? Are there rules? How long should he wait before replying back?

Zihao moves on auto-pilot, dialling the number and not even waiting for the other person to speak when the call picks up.

“Hao-ge!”

“Aiya, what do you want from me now?”

__________________________________________

“He looked so surprised when I complimented his dancing. I think he got nervous, the way he speaks is so cute. I wonder if I had that much trouble speaking when I first moved here. And he offered to carry my bag, I mean, how sweet is that? Like, I really thought he’d be weirded out when I asked if I could text him out of nowhere but he looked so happy about it….”

Jiwoong just keeps nodding as you ramble about the progress you’ve made with Zihao. Well, it’s one extended conversation but progress is progress. Your phone chimes and you literally stop everything you’re doing to open it. Your friend watches as your expression turns fond. You eagerly type back a response, send it and go back to your laptop, just a little more chipper than before if that’s even possible.

“So I take that everything is going well?”

“Mhmm, we’re hanging out after his next class where I’m scheduled to be filming. I asked if he wanted to get coffee at the cafe near his studio. My treat.”

“That sounds good, should I join as well?”

“Respectfully no, and even if you did, you should be paying for both of us as the eldest one.”

“Hmmph”

“Look, I know you think you’re cute but-”

“I know I’m cute. I mean come on, look at me.”

“Oh I’m looking and I’m not really seeing it, sorry.”

“Ah, I see how it is. I’m sorry I’m not a dancer with-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.”

Jiwoong finishes the sentence.

Zihao, on the other hand, is currently figuring out how to form a coherent sentence. Luckily he’s got help.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today-”

“Matthew-ah, I love you but please don’t start.”

“Wait. So why are we gathered here today?”

Zhang Hao looked so done. No one was blaming him though. Zihao had bargained, begged and bribed the older boy for a crash course into the wonderful world that is Korean texting and well, dating etiquette. He did not want to mess this up. 

And because Zhang Hao is an angel and loves him very much, Zihao is now in the capable hands of Seok Matthew, vice president of the foreign student society and Sung Hanbin, the university’s mr. popular because he’s literally friends with everyone. His Hao-ge graciously agreed to preside over their session as the designated Zihao translator. And Kuanjui was there for moral support. Actually, Zihao didn’t know why he was here but he’ll take what he can get.

“I asked Hao-hyung for help.” He said, the nerves returning when they all look at him. “And he called you to teach me how to..how to…”

He doesn’t even need to look at Zhang Hao for help before the older one smoothly takes over. Wow, he is an angel.

“Zihao wants to learn how texting works because he’s finally talking to the person that’s been making him go 심쿵 for weeks”

“Yes!” Zihao adds enthusiastically before pausing. “...what does 심쿵 mean?”

“Wah, you used to be like that Hao-hyung.”

“Excuse me, I was not.”

“Oh true, hyung never asked for help when he didn’t understand something. He just looked it up, went home and studied another hundred vocabulary.”

Zhang Hao had a lot of patience but Zihao’s pushed his limits enough to see when the older boy begins to contemplate murder.

“Thank you in advance for your help, sunbaenims!” He says loudly, dropping into a low bow.

Kuanjui whistles from the corner he was stretching in. Zihao almost forgot he was there. 

“A little too low, Zihao, if you had straightened your back more, it would have been a perfect 90 degrees.”

“We’re the same age, Zihao-ssi.” Hanbin says kindly.

“Does vice president count as being his sunbaenim?” Matthew asks, now looking a little confused himself.

Zhang Hao just sighs very deeply. 

Regardless, Zihao learned a lot that day. Sung Hanbin is a very good teacher and Matthew has a lot of helpful tips on what he can do if he forgets a Korean word. Zhang Hao patiently translates everything he wants to say. And Kuanjui teaches him how to do a perfect 90 degree bow because why not?

*심쿵 [sim-kung/shim-koong] - when your heart races because of something/someone you find exciting/thrilling/shocking

__________________________________________

Texting Zihao is fun.

He seems to favour using those cute little emojis especially when you know he’s trying to describe something that he can’t seem to remember the word for in Korean. His texting slang is surprisingly on point, though it interchanges with very formal speech. Not that it bothers you obviously, it’s quite endearing.

And before you know it, you’re on your way to the dance studio, a little more excited than usual since you’ll be hanging out with Zihao after. You fall into your usual routine. Greeting the teacher, choosing a corner, setting up your tripod as the students file in. 

When he walks through the door, you give him a wave and he stops in his tracks. A pretty smile spreads across his face and he waves back before freezing and greeting the teacher and you with 90-degree bows. You stifle a laugh. Cute and respectful, literally everything you could want in a man.

Once class begins, you fall back into your roles. You’re professionals after all. 

“Ready to go?” You ask when he approaches you after, still in the middle of putting away your equipment.

“Ah, one moment? I…” He falters and gestures at his bag and then himself. “I fix my…in the…”

“No worries, I’ll wait for you.” You figured he might need a few minutes to freshen up. He rushes off and you take your time packing everything up. You fix your hair in the studio mirror and reapply lip balm, not wanting them chapped especially in the winter wind. Maybe you’ve dressed up a little nicer than you usually do, wearing one of your favourite sweaters since the colour compliments your skin.

You hear his footsteps approaching the studio. When he walks in, it’s you who needs to take a few seconds. Somehow, he’s managed to change from the rolled up sweats and t-shirts that he usually wears to class into a white turtleneck, denim jacket and jeans. It’s very boyfriend. He’s even got glasses, white frames perched on his nose. While you don’t know if they actually help him see better, they’re definitely not doing anything to help your poor heart.

“You look nice, very handsome~” you add playfully because honesty is the best policy.

His cheeks flush and this time you know it isn’t from dancing.

“Ah, thank you sunbaenim.” You swear that he gives you a one-over before saying, “you too.”

At this point, you should probably tell him that it’s okay to speak to you more casually. Though it might be difficult, you know, as a foreigner to adjust from formal to casual speech. And there’s something about the way he says sunbaenim that you find so endearing so you let it be. Maybe after the next date.

“May I help you with your bag?” He offers, just like the last time although the line seems more practised now.

“Ah, no it’s okay, really.” You tell him as you both begin to walk out of the studio. “It’s not that I don’t want to but the equipment inside is quite fragile so I just like to hold it myself so I don’t worry.”

“I’ll be careful?” he offers tentatively, really, his smile is so precious.

“Maybe next time.” You say which seems to satisfy him.

Talking with Zihao is just as fun as texting him, if not more.

He’s a little awkward but he listens so attentively when you talk. The gestures he falls back on when he can’t find a word and the way his face lights up when you find it for him, asking to hear it again and repeating after you.

The cafe is cosy. You ask him for his order and pretend not to see or hear him when he tries to pay. But you let him bring the pastries to your table, sitting across him tucked away in a little corner with plush seats, your legs nearly touching. It’s quiet for a moment, he’s looking down at his fingers with a shy smile and you? Well you’re looking at him.

“Shall we eat?”

“Ah, sunbaenim should go first.”

Even though you insist it’s fine, he still waits for you to take a bite before he tucks into his food. It’s good. The lychee cake you chose is not too sweet, the cream light and fluffy and just right. The sound you make must have been louder than you thought because Zihao’s eyes flick up to you immediately.

“It’s really good,” you tell him. Then, a slightly risky idea pops into your head. You take the risk.

“Do you want to try some?” 

You take a forkful and hold it up to him. He leans in without thinking, basically letting you feed him. The action must have clicked a moment later because he freezes mid-chew, looking at you with wide eyes as you giggle.

“It’s good right?”

He nods, swallowing. Then, he takes a forkful of his own pastry and offers it to you with another shy smile.

“Do you want to try, sunbaenim?” He parrots your words. 

Now, it’s your turn to fluster, not expecting your actions to be returned so directly. Still, you lean him and let him feed you as well. Flavours burst in your mouth and you let yourself express it to him, giving a thumbs-up.

The rest of your date goes similarly. Almost too well, you think. It’s arguably one of the best dates you’ve been on since you started university but maybe you’re biased, who knows?

“Let’s see each other again, yeah?”

If Zihao’s smile can get any wider, it definitely does, he nods so fast you’re worried he might strain his own neck.

“I want to see sunbaenim again~” He says cutely.

Maybe it’s a little too soon but you’re already thinking of confessing the feelings you both know are there next time. Maybe you’ll even try and hold his hand. Regardless, there’s no ending in this film where Wang Zihao doesn’t become your boyfriend.

[pumpkincarriage3]

Rook and Epel’s Relationship

Epel, surprisingly, does get along rather well with Rook. Which is surprising since there's no way that Epel isn't aware of the fact that Rook tracks down Epel for Vil anytime Epel runs off. No way that Rook probably hasn't physically been a deterrent in Epel's escape plans. 

Which, I think, is because Epel respected Rook from the start. Eventually, Epel did come to respect Vil, but there was a lot of arguing in-between that. But that wasn't the case for Rook and Epel, and here's why I think that is--

Rook loves all kinds of beauty. It's why even though Vil will reprimand characters, trying to get them to be the best they can be, Rook doesn't do that. Because Rook can appreciate it all. Because he can appreciate it all, Epel probably never felt as if he was actively being looked down upon in the same way that he felt as if Vil was, which did wonders for the pair’s relationship. 

Of course, all of what I just said might sound like a contradiction. After all, if Rook can appreciate who Epel is from the start, why force him to attend Vil's lessons? And the answer is very simple. Rook does appreciate the person that Epel is from the beginning, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't want to see Epel grow. And that is the core of the pair's relationship.

Because Rook thinks that Epel can grow, be so much more than he already is, show more beauty than ever before, he doesn't have a problem forcing Epel to go to Vil's lessons. Which is interesting, because one would think that would negatively impact his relationship with Epel, but it doesn't.

The reason as to why it doesn't is because, while Rook's eccentrics do frustrate Epel at times, Rook isn't patronizing him. Epel never felt as if Rook was looking down at him. And Rook isn't. Rook can appreciate the Epel that he first met just as much as the person that Epel is becoming. Rook never made him feel oratorized from his dorm like the other members did (which didn't appear to be intentional from Epel's dorm members to be fair, but it doesn't change the fact that it still happened).

Rook, unlike most of the other dorm members, didn't expect Epel to be super posh and to know all these different etiquette rules just because of his appearance. In fact, upon first meeting or any other meeting, Rook doesn't make an assumption on Epel's character based solely on Epel's appearance. Which is why Epel respects Rook so much.

Because Rook didn't assume who Epel was. He was willing to see Epel for who he is, and he was willing to help Epel with the different etiquette rules so that Epel wasn't mocked by his other dorm members for not knowing something.

It's because of this respect, that even though Epel can get frustrated with Rook, that they still have an amicable relationship. Even when Rook drags Epel back to Vil's lessons.

[goblinbugthing]

hi hi <3 2, 7, and I think it was 21 for Laika :)

MY BOYGUY MY BUG MY THINGY YES

2 - How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

Very loosely. He calls everyone his friend, even if he’s only spoken to them once — he refers to Ghost as his friend, despite the fact that they Very Clearly Dislike Him, and never leaves the Abyss

7 - What would you tell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

Me? I’d be like, “WHERE THE GOD DAMN IS THAT STUPID MOTHFUCK”. He would proceed to call me a bitch from across the room, and I would be able to locate him easily.

Holly, on the other hand, would say they found some type of critter. Laika loves little critters.

21 - What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

After some googling, as I have no idea what qualifies as ‘common etiquette’, I have some proper answers.

He doesn’t always use proper greetings. Usually he’s just like “hey” or “sup”, unless he’s speaking to someone of high order or whatever the word is, then he speaks “properly”. (e.g. speaking with Chrysanthus/PK, Viol/WL, or other royals)

He also doesn’t always say “please” and “thank you”. Generally, this is because he forgets — he is a self-insert after all, and I also constantly forget to do this.

He doesn’t give a damn about “proper table manners”. Neither do I. He hasn’t cared since he was a kid, same as me.

He also couldn’t give two shits and a flying fuck about minding his language. He swears like a sailor, and on very rare occasion, he’ll call himself a slur. Just like me fr!

He is VERY respectful of others’ personal space. One of very few things he treats with importance.

He doesn’t care about dressing “appropriately”. He wears whatever the fuck he wants. He grew up in Bugaria, and over there, clothing isn’t really mainstream.

(At one point, in the Bee Kingdom’s hive, Kabbu references the choice of scarves and cloaks as clothing items to buy in the clothing shop. He says he doesn’t much care for clothing — and most bugs in Bug Fables don’t wear any form of clothes, either. Leif uses his wings as a cloak, but he’s not actually wearing anything.)

Laika sucks at listening unless he likes you, or whatever you’re talking to him about. Autism be like

The last one doesn’t really apply here, because phones don’t exist in Bugaria, or Hallownest.

But, in modern variants that I’ve never released, he does use his phone very often. He spams Holly with TikToks every five seconds.

(Oh, and phones also exist in Ette’s home kingdom. But Laika’s never been there, so in canon EP, he doesn’t own one.)