#if he gets to be the one preening all the guys who do a shit job at taking care of their feathers

[bubblybloob]

I can't help now but imagine that when Cold finally falls prey to the hibernation scheme (as they all will, eventually 👁👁) Hunted will take the opportunity to put him in the washing machine until the mange crust is all gone.

First of all, who’s to say they fall to the hibernation? 👁️👁️

Secondly, NO DON’T WASHING MACHINE MY BOY I’VE BEEN THERE IT IS HELL HE WON’T SURVIVE-

[riaki]

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

hey so how do you think the bay boys would deal with having a s/o who sometimes randomly cups their cheeks and gives them forehead kisses and then a kiss on the mouth while saying they love them or call them handsome and then they proceed to leave unless their boyfriend yanks them into a hold so they stay put? Happens once a day as long as s/o is not feeling negative vibes?

Affectionate S/Os are treasures to be protected, and I agrue every single Bayverse guy NEEDS an affectionate S/O like this.

But everyone has a different personality, right? I think Raph and Donnie need physical affection like this the most, but Mikey and Leo would be the ones most likely to initiate this kind of thing to you. But anyway-

This is how THEY react.

Enjoy!

Random Kisses X Bayverse Turtles

Mikey

-Loves that you do this shit often enough that he can pretend he's the shit.

-Thinks it's funny when your kissing and babying him and he can preen.

-Looking around the room like he's a big, strong man that owns world while you are making "kiskiskiskiskis" noises to his cheeks.

-Also loves to play victim.

-Is the boyfriend that, if asked, "Do you need kisses?" Mikey'll curl up under you and nod pathetically- even if he had an awesome day.

-"You okay, baby?" You ask.

-"Mmm." He makes a dismissive noise into your chest.

-"You need kisses, baby?" You ask.

-"Mmhm." He moans sadly.

-You press hundreds of those tiny, rabid fire kisses to the scales of his scalp.

-Then when you stop your met with another sad, pathetic groan.

-Mikey is also the boyfriend most likely to give you the same disgusting treatment. -Always looking for an opportunity for ambush kisses.

-Be careful

Leo

-He doesn't like it if he's already overwhelmed or preoccupied

-It can overstimulate him

-But he NEEDS that connection. He needs affection.

-if things are calm, if all the chores are done and it's time to decompress and relax (something he's learning how to do)

-and he's sitting down or curled up with you-

-he compelelty melts. Literally. Physically into you.

-he usually tries to hide his smile or stop himself from laughing.

-"Stopp, this isn't-" "staap"

-Its so fucking adorable. He's fun cuz he can be that fucking awesome, badass, highly specialized and experienced superhero- then also be a needy cuddle bug that practically begs for attention and needs to be held all the time.

-he also the second most likely brother to give the same treatment.

-Loves to surpise you with kisses and hugs.

Raph

-He's had a very difficult time reciprocating this level of cuteness to you without prompt, its something he's working on

-However

-In front of people, he's all like, "Ew. No. Stop. Get off me. This is dumb. I'm a man."

-Then during cuddle times HES the one who crawls into your lap and kinda just...begs with his eyes.

-Also he's hilarious because he sucks, SUCKS at pretending he doesn't actually freakn love it.

-It's hard for him to NOT smile around you when he wants to. So if your ambushing him infront of others or by himseld he's like, trying to push you away while saying, "S-stop, no." But his smile is super wide and he can't look at you in the eyes

-It's disgusting 😭

-Its also extremely meaningful to him, when you do this. Gets him feeling attractive and adored- he won't admit it but it's kinda hard for him to hide that he's flattered too.

-If he's been having a hard, overwhelming season and you pull that while alone with him, it's a struggle not to pull you closer and cry.

Donnie

-Unlike Leo, this is the best way to distract Donnie.

-If he's feeling overwhelmed by work or tasks- calling his name then grabbing his cheeks and kissing him all over will turn his internal world into a very quiet, loving place instantly.

-Hes usually pretty confident, and it's easy for him to talk, but if you do this he'll get all shy and embarrassed

-His smile is super wide and he pulls his head back on his neck while trying to lean away or avoid looking at you

-It's SO fucking cute

-The hardest part about this is if he's not sitting down-

-This shit is extremely difficult

-I don't care how tall you are. Donnie is taller and it's DIFFICULT to ambush him with face or head kisses.

-You just know 90% of your relationship with from his perspective is you looking up at him doing grabby fingers

-Good luck with that

[irndad]

in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair. 

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind. 

But he wanted her. 

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.  

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her. 

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life. 

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure. 

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question. 

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness. 

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility. 

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists. 

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his. 

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up. 

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way. 

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time. 

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.” 

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete. 

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers? 

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him. 

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy. 

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded. 

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please. 

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god. 

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again. 

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality. 

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does. 

Ben, is not in fact, going away. 

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore. 

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.  

But her cup says Ben. 

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have. 

“He sounds like a great guy,��� he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison. 

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is. 

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.” 

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition. 

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess. 

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile. 

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit  into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp. 

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.” 

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his. 

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company. 

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it. 

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem. 

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben. 

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face. 

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights. 

Ironic, really. 

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself. 

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering. 

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known. 

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for. 

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this. 

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.” 

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold. 

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to. 

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from. 

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass. 

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time. 

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation. 

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot. 

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together. 

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting. 

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance? 

Wasn’t it romance, though? 

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror. 

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks. 

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry. 

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment. 

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire. 

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s 

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her. 

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion. 

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him. 

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness.  “There was never anyone else to pick.” 

[princessbrunette]

જ⁀➴ ᥫ᭡

bountyhunter!rafe who wasn’t meant to care about you, but now even when he’s supposed to be transporting you against your will — he shows you his soft streak.

however, to get to his soft streak, he’s gotta be real mean first. since travelling with him, you’d gained his trust enough for him to remove your restraints for your comfort. after stopping in a nearby town for food, you proved to him just why this was a bad idea — making a run for it as soon as you got the chance.

he’d caught you easily, and slapped you real bad once he got a hold of you. you’re now seated on a hay bale of an empty barn near by, sniffling and rubbing at your sore cheek as he calms himself, slowly kneeling to squat infront of you with an exasperated sigh.

“didn’t wanna have to do that alright? i told you i don’t wanna be the bad guy. you just gotta let me do my job, kid. there’s no gettin’ out of this.” he pulls out a roll of tape and you let out a sad cry, mad at yourself that you’d been so foolish and gotten back to square one all from one wrong move. gently, he bats your hand away from your face and pulls off some tape.

“m’just scared.” you mewl quietly and he nods, lips parted and eyes fluttering.

“i know.” he presses the tape of your mouth. making it nice and secure — and even now, having the warmth of his hand on your face you couldn’t help but preen, leaning into his touch ever so slightly. “and…and i know you’re sorry about it. you wouldn’t really leave. i mean you— you’re so far from home now. right? would have no way of getting back all by yourself. you’re just… too little to be thinkin’ like that now, okay? nod if you’re gonna be good from now on.” he stresses and you blink two teary eyes at him, sighing out your nose sadly as you nod.

“okay. good. good girl.” he seems to relax slightly, feeling the way you lean your cheek into his hand. he leans in, pressing a kiss to the tape over where your mouth would be before pulling back. “no more of this crazy shit okay. we got places to be.” he shakes the moment off, standing and holding out a hand for you to take so he could lead you back to the horse. you take it, and this time you hold on a little tighter — in disbelief you’d ever try to run in the first place.

જ⁀➴ ᥫ᭡

[whiskersz]

Hello all, I wanted to dedicate some time to writing some self indulgent stuff, so here's some Adam dating HCs! Do tell me if you'd like more ^o^ Also I'm trying to play around with the format of my posts.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Adam x Reader - Dating Headcanons

✦ Adam undoubtedly has a soft spot for you; from refraining to call you distasteful nicknames to trusting you to preen his wings, many are the ways in which he demonstrates that you’re special to him, not just another Angel. You’re one of the few souls who willingly shows him kindness after all, so how could he ignore that? Despite acting like a jerk most of the time, he really can’t bring himself to be that way around you.

✦ To get someone like him to fully respect you takes a lot of time and patience; just ignoring his unpleasant comments and jokes alone won’t do, you’ll sometimes have to retort with a joke of your own, or even laugh at them. If you do it’ll boost his confidence stratospherically, it’ll make him full on puff up his chest and give one strong flap of his wings to hear you laugh at something he just said.

✦ Something that I also mentioned in another one of my headcanons posts is that he loves naps; he’s a pretty lazy guy in general, so between meetings and training he’ll surely want to relax, even better if he gets to do that with you. He likes lying on his couch with you wrapped up in his arms and wings - bonus point if you’re peacefully sleeping – with his TV playing in the background. If you’re in bed though, expect him to move around a lot as he does so unconsciously in his sleep, unless he’s holding you...in which case his arms will practically trap you and you won’t be able to leave without waking him up.

✦ Another thing he quite enjoys doing with you is playing videogames, just to chill a bit together, and if drinking was allowed in Heaven I feel like he would be the type to play drinking games. He surprisingly doesn't need much to have fun, even in the house.

✦ Adam loves eating ribs, but he can’t cook for shit. He’ll always order those or takeout on a daily basis, so you decide that it’s a good idea to teach him at least the basics. He’s very clumsy in the kitchen, doesn’t really understand how most things work but hey, at least he can tell when the water’s boiling! So teaching him how to cook his own ribs is a bit of a process, but eventually he learns and takes pride in knowing how to make his favorite dish on his own. Give it some time and he’ll be parading around and telling anyone who asks about how his ribs are way better than the ones you can get at a restaurant.

✦ Speaking of food, he’ll almost always take you somewhere to eat if you’re on a date. Even if you’re just getting fries from some stall on the side of the street, he’ll make sure you’ve gotten a treat at the end of the day.

✦ He’s a big show off too, so he’ll 100% propose you to try playing guitar only to exhibit his own skills. If you compliment him enough and you appear to be genuinely interested in learning though, he will gladly be your teacher. He will show you how to play the songs he likes them most – his own – and reward you with a ‘You rock, babe!’ or something along those lines and a kiss whenever you get something right. He’s really, really proud of you and of being able to teach you something.

✦ Adam loves casually calling you pet names. He won’t use extremely cheesy ones, but things like babe/baby, sexy and hon. He’ll use them in sentences where they don’t even really belong, even, just because he’s willing  to show you this sweet side of him that nobody else gets to witness. The one thing he will never call you is shortened versions of your name; he finds those extremely corny.

✦ He’s also not really afraid of showing his love in public, PDA is very much his thing when you two are together. Hand holding, a wing draped across your back, an arm around your shoulder...careful not to do too much though, he’s not really a fan of kissing in public or anything on the more intimate side like that. If this happens he won’t deny you a kiss or a hug but you’ll have to deal with his attitude for a while.

[mirukosbitchywife]

hawks, miruko, fatgum, midnight and eraserhead x vigilante reader

REPOST the original one got flagged as s3xu4l content even tho it's just fluff :(

vigilante reader is tame basically acting as a pro hero just without the license, mainly focusing on saving people, and therefore none of the heros reallu care. no warnings just pure fluff

hawks/keigo takami:

-keigo would be a vigilante if he wasn't taken in by the commission. 100% he would not have stopped saving lives even if he got in trouble for it. he might even fuck around and manage to get you an actual hero license if you want one, even a fake one to get out of trouble if you need it

-basically. even as the number two hero he's no snitch and in fact really respects what you do. you guys probably met trying to save the same civilian or something and hit it off immediately

-he lets you follow him on patrols, absolutely no fucks. almost everyone thinks you're just one of his sidekicks and you basically act as one without the hero license. would just use his feathers to carry you away from any particularly hard ass heros (cough endeavor cough) if he needs to

-doesn't have a lot of friends but the ones he does have know all about you (including everything keigo gushes to them about you ugh) and they also don't care, they trust him as a person and a hero so by default they trust you

-probably also insists on training you but most of your spars end up in making out because he has no self control when it comes to you but you're not complaining

-end of day routine with keigo would def start with you two dancing in keigos living room, he just sweeps you up and starts dancing out of no where, doesn't even need music, the sound of you laughing at his antics is music enough for him, you've come to expect it every day when he comes home and it's one of the things you miss most when he's gone on a longer mission

-your rough days always end with you flying, even if you can fly using your own quirk, there's something about being held to the chest of the man you love while he flys through the night sky, placing unwavering trust in him to not let you fall while you admire the stars always makes your heart full, and for keigos rough days, you always preen his feathers, he's not used to anyone touching them besides his fans grabbing at him, so nothing relaxes him more than the feeling of your fingers in his feathers, straightening and adjusting them for him as you go

miruko/rumi usagiyama:

-is so aggressively supportive of the vigilante thing she'd see you out beating the shit out of a villain and be like BEAT THEIR ASS BABE GET EM

-insists on you training with her. if you want to be a vigilante you gotta be in shape enough to go toe to toe with the number 5 pro hero

-absolutely kicks your ass in training but it's okay bc she gives you kisses every time you win a match <3

-if you're not immediately recognizable as a vigilante she Will take you to the boring hero shit she has to go with. no one's willing to get close enough to you besides hawks, because if you're with her she'll glare down anyone who tries to approach her and hawks is the only one brave enough to get closer (she also trusts hawks the most out of all of them and knows hes no snitch)

-has a sixth sense for when you're in trouble, so if you're ever in over your head in the same city as her ur opponent better start praying

-on especially hard days for you, rumi gives a mean back massage that leaves you putty in her hands, on rumis hard days you always do her hair. she finds it so relaxing and loves the styles you do on her and will proudly wear whatever you did as long as she can

fatgum/taishiro toyomitsu:

-taishiro is just That Guy yk u guys probably met because he picked you up by your scruff during a fight you were losing and he jumped in all heroic like *swoons*

-him being That Guy /pos and all his only reaction after dealing with the villain is to put you down and be like woah. hello person i have never seen in my life before this very second right now. you should hurry along i don't want any civilians caught in the cross hairs when the police arrive. anyway random stranger i've never seen ever you should totally come by my hero agency and train in case you know. you get caught close to another villain attack

-guys got a heart proportional to the rest of him how could you not do anything for him he's sunshine personified. if he said jump you'd ask how high he's just got that affect

-he's probably the most chill pro hero aside from like. aizawa. you know how like the bigger the dog the more chill they get (usually). yeah same affect with him he minds his business stays in his lane does heroic deeds on the reg yk

- his favorite thing to do with you is spend time with you laying on top of him <33 he usually takes up all the space on wherever he's lying but no complaints can be heard when you get to cuddle on top of him all night

-end of day routine with taishiro would pretty much be him coming home from work, flopping on the couch, and dragging you to lay on top of him to doze until the food he ordered arrives (even if you wanted to there's no way you could cook for tai after work, you'd have a hard enough time cooking for Any pro hero let alone one who's quirk is dependent on food)

-your rough days usually entail you crawling inside his shirts to be closer to him (in my mind his clothes are probably usually baggy because they need to be able to withstand his full size and after a day at work he'd probably be at least somewhat smaller) and him allowing you to curl up on him like a cat (he probably also pets ur hair like a cat but we don't need to mention that), his rough days probably entail something like baking treats together!! he seems like the kind of guy who really really enjoys quality time with a s/o and combining that with food? his bad day melts away immediately

midnight/nemuri kayama:

-honestly you're probably not even the first vigilante she's dated, if there's one thing nemuri is gonna do it's whatever the fuck she wants lmao

-she's def the type of person to be like rules are meant to be broken

-nemuri LOVES going out with you, you better pray you don't have a recognizable face because there's no way you're getting out of going out to dinner and her dragging you shopping and her showing you off any chance she gets(not that you'd want to get out of that stuff i mean. it's nemuri)

-nemuri prefers working night shifts even when not working at ua so she can force you to take a break when she takes hers and she always packs you food <3

-she also prefers night shifts so you both can protect each other, shadowing one another in case one of you gets over your heads, the other one never being too far

-she probably has a lot of cats and by default they're your cats so usually while nemuris gone at ua you're playing with her cats. (nemuri probably has hundreds of pictures of you with a cat on top of you after you fell asleep)

-her favorite time of day is when you're both home and sweaty from fighting, your end of day routine always starts with taking a bath together, washing grime off the other, using the tenderness to reset your minds after a long day

-she loves to pamper you, do your nails, face masks, anything you want ,and uses her quirk slightly on you after a particularly rough day, and for her rough days you always make sure she gets a foot massage and glass of wine with a book <3

eraserhead/shouta aizawa:

-same shit different day yeah? he probably mostly has vigilante friends if we're honest (aside from hizashi and nemuri of course)

-is definitely used to dealing with vigilantes both a professional and unprofessional sense, nothing you can do will shock him, and you can always count on him to save your ass when things go south, it's like he has a second quirk with the way he's able to sense when you're either about to do something stupid or about to die. usually both.

-you guys patrol at night together, you both prefer working when you know the other is somewhere nearby in case things go south, and more often than not you take cases on together (although Technically it's just him on the paperwork)

-omg what if you guys meet because he saw you feeding a cat and snuck up on you only for you to. notice him? holy shit?? you could sense his presence?? he was flabbergasted. that like never fucking happens

-end of day routine is you bullying him into a shower with you and him making you wash his hair as payment. literally a fucking cat. we both know he wouldn't shower after patrol alone he'd just go to sleep.

-your rough days always end up with you in a caterpillar looking ass sleeping bag with shouta but you'd have it no other way. his rough days are full of cat cafes. they just relax him like nothing else

[3minsover]

late night:early start

City commuter Steve has to get the first train at 5:30am, already suited and preened for the day even at the early hour. He ends up in the same carriage as a clearly tired, scruffy-looking guy who lays his guitar case down across two seats about three rows away from Steve before slumping into one himself, one that faces Steve.

Despite the guy’s bedraggled appearance, and the smudges of eyeliner that are still clinging to his waterline, Steve is entranced. He can’t help but follow the long line of the guy’s arms under the sleeves of his jacket, down to the flex and curl of his fingers as they drum out a rhythm on the little table in front of him. The man seems to sense Steve’s curious eyes on him and glances up, meeting Steve’s gaze with wide, bleary brown eyes and a half-smile. He scratches at the skin behind his ear, just beneath where a mess of curls is twisted into a lazy bun.

“Late night?” Steve finds himself asking unprompted. He’s not one to talk to strangers, but there’s something compelling, intriguing about the inked etchings peaking out of the guy’s sleeve cuffs, the silver stud in his nose, the heavy boots at the end of long, stretched out legs. He’s so very different from the crisp and fresh-pressed suits at the firm, and even though it isn’t even 6am yet, Steve suddenly feels wide awake.

“Uh, yeah,” the guy answers sheepishly, his voice rough with evident disuse - or overuse. perhaps both. “Would you believe I missed the last train yesterday night?”

“Ah, trains are tricky like that. You don’t live around here then?” It’s a presumptuous question, but one that Steve’s instincts tell him to ask.

“I look like that much of a city rat, huh?” The man chuckles, and Steve’s heartbeat ticks up.

“Hah- You don’t- You don’t look like a lot of the people I see around town, is all I’m saying. and that’s not a bad thing, if I’m being totally honest.” Steve can feel his cheeks heating, and for a moment the rumble of the train is the only sound.

“Okay, good. I’ll take that,” the guy says, brows pinching a little. “You uh, you goin’ into the city then I'm guessing?”

“Yeah, it’s a shitty gig having to come all this way, but at least I haven’t had to sell my kidney to cover rent.”

“I don’t think they’d take my kidney if I offered,” the guy smiles, and Steve barks out a laugh that’s too loud for the empty carriage and the earliness. The guy shifts in his seat, and Steve instinctively leans forward, wanting really to move the few rows forward until he’s close enough to see the early morning light dance and glint in those big, dark eyes.

“That have anything to do with while you were stranded?” Steve asks, gesturing to the guitar case.

“Yup. got me in all kinds of trouble, she has. Gig finished late, couldn’t get a cab, welcome to hotel train-station-waiting-room.”

Steve manages to chuckle more softly this time, his gaze catching on the twitch of the guy’s lips as he stifles a yawn.

“Hey, if you wanted to- You could take a nap, I’ll watch your stuff. Make sure no one steals it, or whatever.”

The man blinks at him in surprise, lashes fluttering where his lids are heavy.

“That’d- Shit, that’d be awesome, man. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Let me just-” And so Steve’s more daring thoughts win out. He plucks up his briefcase from the seat next to him and hurries the short distance to the cluster of seats on the opposite side of the aisle from his new charge. “There. Now I got a clear line of sight.”

“I’ve never felt safer,” the guy jokes, and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, tucking his chin into his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry, um. When should I wake you?”

“Whenever you’re getting off, big boy,” the guy shoots back without raising his head, and Steve can just about make out the curve of his lips and the dimple that sits in the corner of his cheek. He can feel his own cheeks warming at the guy’s words, and Steve’s glad there’s no one around to see. He lets himself watch this pretty stranger under the pretence that he’s keeping an eye on his guitar, and the hour and a half slides by almost unnoticed.

The carriage is a little busier but still quiet when Steve’s stop rolls around. The man hasn’t moved since he nodded off, and it almost breaks Steve’s heart to wake him. Carefully, Steve stands and leans down, wrapping his fingers around the man’s shoulder and shaking lightly.

“Hey, buddy, I gotta get off.”

The guy’s eyes blink open, wide and unfocused and so lovely, before they swivel up to meet Steve’s own. His chin tips upward and his lips curve in a smile, and something in Steve begs closer closer closer, but instead he just clears his throat and rights himself.

“Thank you, dude. Even that was way better than a wooden goddamn bench.” The guy bends his arms and stretches, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’m- I’m steve, by the way,” he announces suddenly, making a step towards the carriage doors, despite how reluctant he is to move away from his stranger.

“Hey, Steve,” the guy replies, hauling himself upright - how coincidental that they’re off at the same, second-to-last stop. The train draws to a halt, and the guy stumbles forward just a fraction, still off-balance with new consciousness. Suddenly, they’re face to face. Or more they’re nose to chin, because this man has a good four inches on Steve. It’s all Steve can do not to lean up and kiss his pretty lips right here and now. “Name’s Eddie.”

And it feels right. It fits.

Steve doesn’t know how or why, but everything about this man fits; feels right.

“Good to meet you, Eddie,” Steve says, a little breathless. “Hey, if you’re ever down my way again, how about I give you a better place to sleep than a waiting room bench.” And Steve knows it’s a bit of a pretentious thing to do, but he slips a business card out of his wallet and tucks it into the breast pocket of Eddie’s jacket. He pats it once and pivots away, can’t bear the thought that he’s misread the electricity between them. He rushes through the doors and slips into the stream of morning bodies, leaving the perfect newness of his pretty stranger back in that carriage. but that evening, Steve’s phone buzzes with a text from an unsaved number.

It simply reads:

thanks again for being my lookout. if the offer’s still on the table, how about friday night?

[sundrop-writes]

I guess this is asking for your headcanons? But if you were to take everyone in the BAU (that you write for) and put them on a scale/list of most dominant to most submissive what order would you put everyone in?

I would consider this more of an MLT, but labels, labels whatever. Let's get to hoeing!!!

The Scale of Most Dominant to Most Submissive Criminal Minds Characters

Elle Greenaway - Hard Dom

Okay I feel like Elle and Emily easily compete for most dominant in this group, so I just put Elle's name at the top because I feel like she doesn't get enough attention in the fandom <3

But yeah - we all know that she serves cunt, takes shit from no one, and I cannot imagine for the life of me her taking orders from anyone - especially not in bed. She is on top at all times. She wears the strap in the relationship and she needs a partner who thrives with that.

Emily Prentiss - Hard Dom

Again, she is just - a boss bitch. She seeps dom energy from every pour, and I can't imagine her being submissive to anyone. She seeks out a partner who loves being bossed around, and she soaks up someone who follows her orders, right from the subtle first meeting - if she tells you to get her another drink or tells you where to sit down on a first date, then she will absolutely preen if you rush to follow her orders. She will bark for no one, but she will make you bark.

Derek Morgan - Soft Dom (very very rare Switch)

Derek as 'the playboy' feels like a natural dom of the group, and I definitely see that he would be dominant for most of the time during most sexual encounters - but I feel like that's not all there is to him.

First of all, he's not a hard dom. He's not someone who makes rules and plays hard BDSM - he is someone who is a very soft, loving dom - he will kiss all over your body and do body worship, and he loves teasing and whispering sweet dirty talk into your ear. He likes to be in control, but he loves every minute of the ride to be pure, honey-sweet pleasure - he wants your legs quivering, and he wants you to remember the feeling of his tongue on your skin if you lock eyes with him on a Monday morning.

It's very rare that he gets rough. And it wouldn't be because of his own rage, it would be because he thinks that you need it - because your body is asking for more, or your mind needs to be shut off with a good, rough fuck. And when it gives it to you, it leaves you aching in the best way possible.

But he also has another side that people very, very rarely see. (Like I have said about characters like Hank Hall and Dick Grayson) - these big burly guys with a lot of trauma can be submissive, but it's something they hold back for when they are with someone that they deeply, deeply trust. It's never for casual hookups or even casual friends with benefits sex. It's for a loving, long term relationship where you have talked out all the trauma with them, and you deeply understand all of their most fucked up emotional hang-ups.

It's then that he feels safe enough to turn his body over to you completely - to lay back and let you do whatever you want with him. And even then, it's rare. It's when he's had a very hard day at work, and he just wants to lay back and shut his mind off, and he trusts you to help him do it.

Jennifer Jareau - Switch (Loving, Soft Dom/rare needy Sub)

As I have said in this post - JJ is a switch. That's my truth. But also as I have said in that post, she is bossy as hell (affectionate) - so I feel like it takes a very special type of person to dom her. Someone 10x more bossy. She loves the feeling of being dominated and it gives her that euphoria, and she can trust someone to do it if she has been dating them for a short time - but they have to be very powerful, and very bossy to overcome her natural dominance and her natural bossy streak.

Otherwise, JJ defaults to being the dominant one in the relationship because she is so used to being dominant in every other area of life - she knows what she wants and she isn't gonna waste time trying to get it. But again, she isn't into hard rules and BSDM, she is just into worshipping you and maybe some teasing. I talk about it more in that other post.

Spencer Reid - Needy Sub (very very rare Soft Dom)

So I am a Sub!Spencer truther.

Mostly because I feel like Spencer would naturally unconsciously seek out a partner who is more dominant in all areas of life, not just in the bedroom, because Spencer needs the guidance and caring of a dom - like... can we talk about how he didn't have any proper parental figures growing up because his father abandoned him and he took care of his sick mother for most of his life so he's never truly been 'taken care of' even as a child, so he would fucking looove the chemical euphoria of being taken care of by a dom, not just sexually but during after care and with casual dominance in all aspects of life.

Also, Spencer is that thing 'you like dominant women, not because you're a sub but because you're autistic and you like clear, direct instructions' - I mean he is definitely a sub, but he also LOOOVES the direction, clear instructions and how it makes things easier for him as an autistic person.

But if Spencer somehow ended up with someone who is a not a dom and didn't take care of him 24/7, including during sex, then he would becoming the dominant partner during sex just out of pure need. (In my opinion). I think that he's very, very touch seeking. He is needy. So if his partner doesn't initiate sex, or doesn't clearly communicate that they want sex (again, he's autistic) - then Spencer will initiate touches and seek out sex and touching and become this more dominant force just to fuel his own intense, passionate need to touch you. Not just because he's sex hungry, but because he's generally touch-starved, and he has such an intense passion for you specially that he wants to be touching you all the time, and his desperation and need comes off as more dominant and controlling.

I don't think he would ever be the type of dom to make rules, or have a degradation kink toward you, or anything like that. He can't even deny you an orgasm because if you ask to cum, then needs to see you cum. He is a pleasure driven dom 100%.

(Anyway, that's all I have for now lmao.)

[afewproblems]

Season Two Halloween AU Part Ten (Final Part)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

Thank you to Jess @strangersteddierthings for your encouragement and kind words, and to all of you that have been following along with this story. Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy the final installment!

***

It doesn't take much to get Dustin on board, especially given the little shits ego.

Nancy and Eddie manage to catch him outside during lunch period the following day, next to the bike racks. With Hawkins Middle just a block away from the highschool, it's easy to make their way over.

"Called it, I totally called it," Dustin preens with a wide grin, Eddie holds back the urge to roll his eyes.

Nancy levels Dustin with an unimpressed glare as she crosses her arms.

"It's not too late, we could make this work without him," Nancy says dryly, and Eddie has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the way Dustin's mouth drops open as he looks between Nancy and Eddie with a stricken expression.

"No, wait!" Dustin says, his voice pitched high with panic, "I want to help!" 

"Steve is a good guy, he helped my mom with the groceries last week because she had to work late," the kid continues, his voice softer now.

"I can tell he's sad, when he thinks you aren't looking at him, mom had the same thing after my dad left". 

Dustin looks up at Eddie now, a wary suspicion in his eyes, "he's been like that since the last time I covered for you," he throws long exaggerated finger quotes around the word, 'covered' as he openly glares at Eddie.

"What did you say to him before the tunnels?" Dustin demands fiercely, and even Nancy turns to look at Eddie with a questioning tilt to her head.

Frustration courses through his chest now, hot and bubbling, he has to take a deep breath to keep from yelling. 

As if Eddie hasn't been asking himself that very question, as if he hasn't been turning that moment over and over in his mind, trying to find the moment, the words, responsible for Steve's distance.

"Dustin," Nancy says sharply, "this is not the time--"

"What are you talking about," Dustin turns to Nancy, gesturing at Eddie who bristles, "we're making a plan and that should include what not to say this time."

"This was a stupid idea," Eddie bites out, turning on his heel, his ears are warm under his hair and he can feel the angry flush slowly make its way down his neck, he takes three steps before a hand catches his elbow, halting his path.

"Okay Dustin knock it off," Nancy says quietly, her head on a swivel, watching for any lunchtime stragglers lingering around them or teachers on supervision. 

Satisfied that no one seems to be watching their conversation, she turns back to Eddie and squeezes his elbow one last time before letting her hand drop away, "and you, calm down, we're all here because we want the same thing".

"Well, some of us more than others," Dustin pipes up, wiggling his eyebrows at Eddie who wants to sink into the concrete. 

"Dustin," Nancy bites out between her teeth, "Mike said the Snowball is in two days, think you could get Steve to take you?"

Dustin scrunches his nose as he looks at Nancy, "are you kidding," he scoffs, "all I have to do is tell my mom Steve offered to take me and she'll call him to thank him, he'll have no choice but to agree like it was his idea". 

Nancy blinks once at Dustin and Eddie can't help but stare at the little monster's face as he grins up at the two of them. It's honestly a good plan given what Eddie knows of Steve, and even Nancy begins to nod slowly.

"Okay, then your job," Nancy turns to Eddie now, "is to surprise him here when he arrives at the dance, Dustin's right".

Nancy doesn't look at the little twerp as she says it but nearly rolls her eyes at the triumphant laugh that bursts forth from the kid.

"An ambush is probably the best way to catch him, and Eddie," Nancy turns to fully face him and reaches out to squeeze his arm with small hands, "just…be gentle with Steve, as much as you can".

"Are we all clear on the plan then?" She asks, taking a step back towards the sidewalk path leading back to the school. 

"Yes mom," Eddie huffs, shooting Dustin a matching grin as Nancy sighs loudly.

"Just be here for seven," she says tightly before turning in her heel and stalking off towards the highschool.

"She's pretty intense hey?" Eddie says, turning back to the kid, he trails off at the scowl Dustin gives him in response.

"Nance is cool and has a gun, I wouldn't mess with her and I wouldn't mess with Steve if I were you," Dustin scoffs, taking a step closer.

Eddie swallows roughly at the sudden proximity, looking around the school yard for any stragglers making their way back to class. 

"Keep your voice down you little shit," he hisses, reaching out to pull Dustin farther away from the bike rack and the double front doors. He tries not to let the news of Nancy's weapon cache fluster him but Dustin must see something in Eddie's expression if the sudden smug grin is anything to go by.

"I'm just saying, you're new to the party and we protect each other, so if you're just looking to mess with him--"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, bringing his hands up to his eyes. He presses his fingers in until his vision explodes in a kaleidoscope of stars and counts to five, breathing deeply through his nose.

"I'm only going to say this one more time, so tell your little party because I ain't doing another shovel talk from someone whose voice hasn't even dropped".

Eddie ignores the squawk Dustin makes as he lowers his hands, "I just want to talk to Steve and see where this goes, I am not getting my hopes up that this is all gonna be 'Happily Ever After' or some shit, and you shouldn't either".

Eddie watches as Dustin frowns skeptically and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from rolling his eyes.

"But I swear, I'm not messing with him, okay?" 

Dustin stares at Eddie for what feels like an age, saying nothing. His gaze is anything but warm, it feels like he's being analyzed and he wishes that Nancy were still here to absorb some of the strange attention the kid has focused on him.

Eddie is about to tell him to forget it, to storm off back to the highschool when Dustin finally utters a simple, "okay". 

It throws Eddie off for a moment, he stands in the patchy November worn grass, shivering in the harsh wind, mouth opening and closing in surprise.

"That's it?" He asks faintly, watching as Dustin swings his backpack off his shoulder and unzips it. He reaches in and pulls out a bright yellow walkie talkie and holds it out to Eddie expectantly.

"The party frequency is 467.5625," Dustin says as Eddie takes the device. 

He looks from the walkie in his hands to Dustin and scoffs, "you expect me to remem--"

"Channel eight then, Jesus," the kid huffs out, "don't make me take it back, this is a big deal Munson, you're one of us now". 

Eddie holds back a smile but it's a near thing. 

It feels strange, the warmth in his chest at the words. It shouldn’t feel as big as it does, but the heavy walkie in his hands feels like acceptance, something Eddie has always insisted that he never needed. He had Wayne, he had Hellfire, and Corroded Coffin, what did it matter if the other teens gave him a wide berth in the halls, or if teachers assumed the worst of him without evidence. 

But as Eddie taps the walkie onto the palm of his left hand, that feeling of warmth grows until it travels up his throat into a sudden lump that chokes his words. 

Fuck. 

Eddie blinks away the burning sting in his eyes once, twice, before lowering himself into a bow to hide the moisture he knows is just a split second from becoming a very evident problem. 

Dustin steps back in surprise as Eddie coughs to hide the waver in his voice.

"I uh, humbly accept your invitation and will endeavor to assist with all future quests, even upon pain of death or dismemberment oh noble bard".

Eddie lets a small laugh loose as he stands back up to his full height, grinning at the delighted giggle Dustin makes, even as the kid loudly insists that he's actually an Artificer, duh.

"Could've fooled me with that inspired speech dude," Eddie shakes his head and begins making his way back towards the highschool, letting gravity take him down the small hill towards the trees with heavy steps. He feels lighter now than he has in a while.

Absolutely nothing could go wrong.

"Wait!"

The sound of quick steps and crunching dead leaves announces Dustin before Eddie can even turn to face Hawkins Middle.

He skids to a stop at the bottom of the hill, breathing heavily with a wild grin on his small face.

"I know we have a plan already, but I think I have an even better idea," he breathes out, nearly vibrating in excitement.

"Better than Wheelers?" Eddie says, raising his eyebrow and slowly crossing his arms over his chest, careful not to drop the walkie in the grass.

"It's genius," Dustin insists, "trust me".

***

It was not genius.

It is in fact the stupidest thing that Eddie has ever done.

Including the time he skipped school to climb the tallest tree in Mirkwood on a dare and ended up breaking his collarbone after falling ten feet.

But, Eddie supposes, this is exactly what happens when one listens to a thirteen year old.

Maybe this was how all urban legends started, as unsolicited advice from snarky little pre-teens with more confidence than common sense.

All of a sudden, you end up stowed away in the back of a car trying your damnedest to keep quiet so as not to tip off the driver.

Who you happen to be eavesdropping on. Again.

Fourth time's the charm after all.

Eddie tries to stay as still as he can, crouched down in the back of Steve's Beemer. How the hell did those Urban Legend serial killers make this seem so easy, Eddie thinks as they manage to hit yet another pothole, jostling his position behind Dustin's seat. Eddie's heart beat feels incredibly loud in his ears as he holds his breath between his teeth.

He wonders belatedly just what Hopper would do if he drove past them now and tries to swallow the sudden anxiety that clings to his throat.

"Remember," Steve interrupts Eddie's thoughts with his insistent tone, "you don't care, you're as cool as a cucumber, you let everything roll off your back," Steve says as the sound of the turn signal begins, the rhythmic tick tock keeping pace with his words.

"Like a duck?" Dustin asks from the passenger seat and Eddie has to fight to keep the snort that threatens to break free from his nose.

"Uh, I guess, just, look," Steve sighs as they slow down for a light if the red glow is any indication, "you don't want to come on too strong, what happens when you come on too strong?"

"It blows up in your face," Dustin says quietly as Steve speaks in unison with him, slapping the steering wheel once with the flat of his palm, making Eddie flinch in the back. 

God. Is that what Steve thinks he did?

"Exactly, Henderson, you got it! So what are you?"

"Cool as a cucumber," Dustin repeats, this time with more conviction in his voice and Eddie hopes the kid is a better actor than he thought because that is not the lesson he wants him taking away from this evening.

"Because you don't care," Steve says again, tapping the steering wheel with each word for emphasis and Eddie can hear the grin in his voice as he shifts in the driver's seat. 

"I don't care," Dustin repeats again, though in a much colder voice than before, and suddenly Eddie knows if Dustin could see him now, he'd be staring daggers at him.

Eddie rolls his eyes, he's not going to take the blame for every single word and feeling coming out of Steve's mouth and it isn't fair of Dustin to heap all of it on Eddie.

"You look like a million bucks, go get em tiger," Steve says gently as the car comes to a gentle halt. There's a fondness in his voice that Eddie hasn't heard before. 

He's never had a sibling either, but Eddie imagines that this is exactly how it would feel, witnessing their firsts, cheering them on as they head into the unknown. Being their protector from the things that go bump in the night, even if that thing was as small as a first heartbreak. 

God. King Steve just had to be a secret sweetheart didn't he?

Not that it was really much of a secret, Eddie thinks as Dustin opens the passenger door and hops out of the car--

Oh shit. 

Oh shit.

He had been so engrossed in the conversation he'd been eavesdropping on, yet again, that Eddie had forgotten to sneak out.

He had even kept the back passenger door open, ever so slightly, to avoid the sound of it alerting Steve when he made his escape at the same time as Dustin. Then all they had to do was line up their doors closing at the exact same time and Steve would be none the wiser.

Oh God, he really did it, Eddie really listened to a thirteen year old and expected the plan to work.

And what's worse, he's the one that had fucked it up and now, he's trapped.

Eddie takes a deep breath through his nose and releases it as slowly as he can through his mouth. It feels as though an elephant is seated on his chest and his lungs can't quite keep up with the weight as his ribcage slowly begins to cave in. 

He has to get out, he has to run, he has to get out, he can't be caught in here, he can't ruin this again.

He starts at a sudden tapping on the window and holds his breath as Steve leans over from the driver's side towards his passenger door.

"Dustin?" Steve huffs as he moves back into place, his arm stops to rest on the passenger door just above Eddie's legs hidden in the darkness of the back seat.

"Steve! I, uh, forgot something, in the back," Dustin's voice is slightly strangled as he stumbles through the explanation for his sudden reappearance, "uh, my backpack!"s in days with their plan in place.

"Okay," Steve says slowly, drawing out the second syllable as he drops his hand from the passenger seat, "let me look--"

"No!" Dustin barks out, leaning further into the vehicle, from the new angle Eddie can see the panic on his young face. 

"Dustin? What--" Steve huffs as the kid climbs back into the front seat, grabbing Steve's arms and forcing him to continue facing forward.

And perhaps it's the absolute ridiculousness of the situation that makes Eddie laugh, the look on Dustin's face, or the confusion in Steve's voice, but he can't help but contain the loud snort that bursts forth from the back seat. 

Shit.

Eddie's heart drops into the floor of the vehicle beneath him as Steve and Dustin both freeze. 

It's like time stands still for an eternity, though snow begins to slowly fall outside the Beemer and the far off buzzing of music and laughter continues to emanate from the school gymnasium. 

Eddie moves first, lifting his hands to cover his face as he slowly sits up. He presses his fingers harshly into his eyes until a kaleidoscope of stars and fireworks appear in the darkness, before lifting them slightly to move into his hair and pulling at the roots. Eddie keeps his eyes closed as he hears a sharp intake of breath and movement from the driver's seat. 

"Eds? Dustin, what is going on, what are you doing here?" Steve says, his voice growing louder with each word until Eddie opens his eyes. 

Steve is staring at him, his large hazel eyes are wide and his brows have pinched in the middle, cutting creases across his forehead. He looks at Dustin before turning back to Eddie again, the frown on his face slowly morphing into a sneer. 

"Figures," Steve breathes out before turning to Dustin once more, "you two planned this?"

Dustin has the decency to at least wince at the accusation, "it's not like that--"

"Just," Steve cuts the kid off, the word harsh, almost a snarl before Steve deflates, sinking back into the driver's seat and letting his head drop back onto the headrest. 

He breathes out long and slow through his nose before continuing in a much softer, tired voice, "go to the dance Henderson". 

Dustin opens his mouth to rail against the dismissal, to stop whatever train of thought has run through Steve's mind, but Eddie beats him to it.

"Dustin," Eddie sighs, dropping his hands away from his hair to his lap, "let me take my lumps man, go".

Dustin makes a noise that seems to be a cross between a curse and a growl, his expression venomous, before he steps back and closes the passenger door with a loud metalic bang.

Eddie vaguely remembers Dustin and Nancy's threat and the guns she supposedly owns and suppresses a shudder. 

One problem at a time.

Eddie hauls himself into the back seat and groans at the rush of pins and needles dotting along his arms as he moves into a normal position once more. He rubs his hands along his arms and legs, wincing at how loud he is in the absolute silence of the car.

Steve isn't looking at him, his face pressed in between his hands at 11 and 1 on the steering wheel. 

"So," Steve mutters after a beat, startling Eddie as he sits back up from the wheel, "you were listening to me. Spying. Again." 

"Steve," Eddie starts, only for the other man to continue on as though he hasn't heard him.

"The only thing I can't figure out is why?"

Steve turns in his seat to look at Eddie, his face carefully blank now but for the slight downward pull at the left corner of his mouth. The bruises from Billy's recent beatings have faded to a sallow yellow and even the collection of cuts from the shattered ashtray have begun to scab over. 

The sight makes Eddie ache.

"Did Tommy put you up to this?" Steve interrupts Eddie's thoughts, his stare unwavering.

"What?" Eddie whispers, horrified, "what are you talking about?"

"You, you keep," Steve's voice rises slightly, a hysterical edge begins to creep in as his breathing quickens, "inserting yourself into my shit, you--I told you that I," Steve swallows heavily and blinks, his hazel eyes shine in the glow of the streetlight.

"Tommy is the only one who knows about me, so--so whatever he's got you doing," Steve sucks in another short breath, it's wet at the edges and Eddie feels his chest tighten as Steve's voice wavers.

"Steve--"

"You know what," Steve hisses as he reaches down to tug the keys out of the ignition, his breathing still slightly erratic, "just don't".

Eddie watches, frozen, as Steve wrenches the driver's door open and throws himself out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind him.

Eddie sits in silent shock for a moment, as though his limbs have filled up with sand, holding him in place, before he manages to scramble towards his own door.

"Steve!" He shouts, wincing as he slams the car door behind him, prompting several kids and parents walking into the middle school behind them to look in curiosity.

He catches a glimpse of a maroon sweater darting into the trees. 

Gotcha. 

Eddie hurries after him, cursing Dustin's insistence that, 'with this plan you won't need a coat, there's no waiting outside at all!'

He tamps down the hot feeling of irritation creeping up his chest and into his throat. It's a ridiculous night, first spent crouched into the back of a car and now traipsing through the woods to what? 

Chase after someone who clearly wants nothing to do with him? Who has been purposefully avoiding him since that night in the tunnels. 

Nancy and Dustin had it wrong, this was stupid. 

What was he thinking going along with their batshit plan --not that Nancy deserved credit for the car thing, that was all Henderson. 

Eddie pushes a branch out of his path and steps over a snow covered log, cursing the fact that he can feel the chill creeping into his toes through the thin canvas of his converse sneakers. The shoes also have little traction in the fresh snow that seems to be coming down even harder now as the night goes on.

As if to prove a point Eddie slips on a wet patch of leaves and swears at the sudden pain in his back as he struggles to keep upright.

He's breathing hard, puffs of frozen breath billow out and away from him in the cool night air

'Be gentle with him,' Nancy had said, as if she knew this would happen. As if she knew Steve would run the first chance he could and Eddie would follow.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, letting it in and out, allowing the frustration and anger from the last few days flow out with each breath.

"Steve," Eddie shouts as he finally catches a glimpse of maroon and tawny hair through the thicket, "just stop, man!"

Steve halts, halfway over a fallen log, but doesn't turn around.

Eddie ducks under another branch and into the small break in the trees that Steve is in. He can see the way the other man's shoulders rise and fall rapidly in the meager moonlight but whether from panic or exertion, Eddie can't tell.

"Steve," Eddie says as he takes another wary step forward, as though approaching a wild animal.

"You promised we'd talk," Eddie tries to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat, "was that a lie?" 

Steve says nothing still, though he turns his face just enough that Eddie can make out his profile in the low light.

Eddie sighs heavily, sliding a shaking hand through his hair, "what would Tommy want with the town freak anyway, he'd be more likely to put sugar in my gas tank than talk to me about anything, Steve".

"So," Eddie breathes out slowly, feeling his heart rate begin to climb as he prepares to take the leap, "rewind a bit, and catch me up on just what is going on in that head of yours sweetheart".

He sees the moment the words register in the way Steve stiffens, the way he slowly turns towards Eddie, his face pale and his eyes wide.

"You…you've called me that before, in the car," Steve says slowly, in fits and starts, "I thought it was a dream". 

Eddie takes another step closer, watches as Steve traces his movement with wary eyes.

"I think that was the most scared I have ever been in my life Steve, I thought you were dead, and it made me realize something," he swallows heavily, it feels like glass all the way down. 

"I was an idiot," Eddie whispers, his breath floats away in the cold November air as he shivers, "and didn't understand what you were trying to tell me at the Byers".

Steve winces slightly and nods, he opens his mouth to say something but Eddie beats him to it.

"IthinkyourNonnawasontosomethingSteve," the words tumble out in a long nearly unintelligible string, "I want to be in your life, whatever that means, however you'll have me," his lungs stutter slightly as Eddie takes a deep steadying breath.

Steve's head tilts slightly to the left as he regards Eddie with a infuriating black expression, his eyes searching Eddie's own.

"As friends?" Steve says slowly. There's a leading note to his voice that Eddie tries not to wince at.

He can't quite help the way his shoulders drop at the words though. Of course, of course he'd been right the first time. Steve was straight and, despite his better judgment, Eddie had gone ahead and gotten his hopes up for nothing.

"If that's what you want," Eddie agrees, forcing a wane smile that doesn't meet his eyes.

Steve's expression betrays nothing still as he moves through the thicket in two steps, his gaze never wavering from Eddie's own as he crosses his arms over his chest, still guarded despite how close they are.

"And if I wanted something else?" Steve speaks softly now, the words travel in between them through gentle puffs of frozen breath.

They're nearly the same height, Eddie might be a half inch taller or so, but from this close it doesn't matter. 

Eddie can see the flecks of green in his eyes, the collection of freckles and moles across his nose and cheeks; if Steve is an Autumnal King in a sunset, he's absolutely otherworldly in the moonlight. The pale snow falling around them almost makes it seem like he's glowing.

"Glowing huh?" 

Fuck.

Steve's face splits into a soft smile, his eyes crinkle at the corners, pulling at the yellow bruised skin. He breathes out something resembling a laugh through his nose as he says, "well, you're not so bad yourself Munson".

Eddie takes another step closer, his heart racing at a mile a minute, "s'that right?" he asks, lifting his hands to grip at Steve's arms.

He lets his ungloved hands run up and down, reveling at how soft and warm the sweater Steve's wearing is before settling at his elbow.

Steve's eyes slowly trace over Eddie's face, before his expression morphs into the determined one that Eddie recognizes from that horrible night in the tunnels.

"I'm sorry," Steve swallows roughly before clearing his throat. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head as Eddie opens his mouth to speak, "please, just let me explain first, and then you can," he bites at the inside of his cheek as his hazel eyes move beyond Eddie's gaze into the trees. 

"You can, make your decision or whatever".

Eddie hesitates for just a moment, squeezing Steve's arms once more before he lets go. 

Steve gives Eddie a tight smile, before closing his eyes, "I've known Tommy since we were like six, sandbox kids right?"

"Our dads were friends, they worked together, so it just made sense, and we were close, we did everything together," Steve opens his eyes but doesn’t look at Eddie, "Tommy knows a lot about me, stuff I've never told anyone, not even Nance".

Steve sighs, kicking roughly at a cluster of leaves and snow on the ground, "not that she hasn't figured a bunch of it out, she's smart like that". 

"I remember talking about girls for the first time when we were Dustin's age, Tommy had a crush on Linda Holloway, he liked her red hair," Steve smiles faintly, but it quickly disappears as he finally meets Eddie's eyes once more, "and I didn't think anything of it at the time, I just thought we were sharing who we thought was cute so I--"

He stops speaking, his breath stutters for a moment as he shakes his head once and curls his arms even more tightly around himself.

"Steve--" Eddie tries, reaching out once again with one hand before he curls his fingers away as though afraid to touch him. 

Eddie wants to tell Steve that he doesn't need to continue, that he understands, but Steve has regained his voice, soft and unwavering.

"I told him about Mary McKinney, she let me borrow her pencil whenever I needed it and always wore her hair in braids," Steve licks his lips, his eyes flitting between Eddie now and the ground, "and, about Brian Donovan, he was on our little league team and he had the best dimples I'd ever seen".

Steve's lips twist into a shy smile this time as he looks at Eddie, "maybe second best now".

Heat rises in Eddie's cheeks, his heart thrums in his chest and he can't stop the pleased grin from taking over his face at the words. 

God, he's so fucked.

Steve continues on, if he notices Eddie's blush in the low twilight he doesn't mention it.

"Tommy said that was weird to think of boys like that, the same way I thought about Mary, and not to talk about it again. That didn't stop him from bringing it up after that," Steve sighs heavily now, "I couldn't so much as make eye contact with another guy at school without Tommy telling me off". 

Anger ignites in Eddie's chest, spreading up his throat and curling around his hands which suddenly long to meet Tommy Hagans stupid face. 

He'd never cared for the guy. Too far up his own ass over the years with a mean streak a mile wide. Add to that a penchant for making other kids' lives absolutely miserable and you have a recipe for a douchebag that Eddie based nearly half of the Munson Doctrine on. 

The other half, well, that had also been influenced by Steve, but if Eddie was being honest, he had no clue who the real Steve Harrington was. 

No one did. 

Hopefully, in time, Eddie could change that. 

"I'm sorry for not trusting you," Steve whispers, his face tipped down to the ground, "I think I've had his voice in my head for so long that I couldn't stop myself from listening to it".

"You want to know the worst part?" Steve asks quietly, he scoffs, not bothering to wait for Eddie to reply, "he acted like he was doing me a fucking favour, like he was protecting me". 

He shakes his head, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as his voice wavers suddenly, "maybe he was, in his own way--"

"Nope," Eddie barks out, startling them both with the sudden volume filling the trees, "that rat was trying to save his own skin by trying to control you, you owe Tommy nothing". 

Steve looks at Eddie with wide shocked eyes. He's standing so still that Eddie wonders if he's stopped breathing.

"Maybe he thought he was doing you a favour," Eddie laughs, it's a cold bitter thing that hangs low amongst the tree roots and plant litter, "and in public sure, I get it, but honestly if he could only be friends with this version of you, then he wasn't really ever your friend, Steve". 

"If someone doesn't like you just as you are, then they aren't worth it".

Steve is still staring, he hasn't blinked the entire time that Eddie has been speaking…it's a little unnerving.

"So," Steve asks, hesitantly, halting Eddie's train of thought, "what about you?" 

He's even closer now and, when the hell did that happen.

"Me?" Eddie says faintly, his eyes drop once to Steve's lips, they're slightly chapped but have never looked so God Damn kissable.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and smiles softly as he lifts his hands to grip Steve's elbows once again, squeezing gently before sliding them down to take his hands. 

They're large and warm in his own, callused along the palms from where the nail bat had sat in his hands. Eddie lets his thumbs run along his knuckles, lingering on the healing scabs from his fight with Billy.

"You weren't what I was expecting," Eddie says, watching as Steve's head tilts again at the nonsequiteur, "especially after the party when I tried to give you back your sunglasses".

"You care, about the kids --even when they are being self destructive little shits, about Nancy even though she broke your heart," he traces his thumbs over the tops of Steves hands when his fingers twitch, "and you care about me, enough to put yourself out there even though you had no idea if I felt the same". 

"You are brave, crazy brave to the point where I'm a little worried about why you're so quick to just throw yourself in front of danger, but," Eddie shakes his head as Steve bristles this time, ducking his face away from Eddie's watchful eyes, "we'll unpack that another day". 

He takes a deep breath and slowly lets go of one of Steve's hands, shaking as he reaches up to cup Steve's jaw, tipping his face up until his eyes are level with Eddie's once more.

Steve's hazel eyes trace over Eddie's face, wide and glassy in the moonlight. They are close enough that Eddie can feel the shallow puffs of air against his lips as Steve's breathing quickens.

"Did the doctor say anything about your face," Eddie asks, gesturing at his own with his one free hand, "recovery time?"

Steve shakes his head with a confused frown.

"Good," Eddie takes a deep breath, allowing a wide lecherous grin to bloom, "because I like you, Steve Harrington, exactly as you are, and I'm going to kiss you," he lifts his other hand now to cup the other side of Steve's face, "but I only make it hurt if you want me to, big boy".

Eddie freezes as the words he just said register. 

Oh Fuck.

Who pulls out Big Boy like five seconds after confessing their feelings? 

Eddie groans lowly and shuts his eyes for a beat, only opening them at the tentative sound of Steve's voice.

"Eds," Steve laughs, his face flushed a deep scarlet, giving Eddie a sly smile of his own, "that was really bad, like really bad".

Eddie sighs, embarrassment beginning to curl, hot and heavy, in his chest as he removes his hands from Steve's face, "I know…"

He startles at the feeling of warm fingers wrapping around his own, drawing his hands back to where they had been on Steve's face, "it's a good thing I like you, so you can get more practice".

"Yeah?" Eddie whispers, his voice hoarse as though he can scarcely breathe. He watches as Steve smiles, counting the crinkles at the edges of his eyes and the way his scarlet flush has faded to a soft pink.

He wants to freeze this moment, burn it into his memory so he'll never forget the soft happiness in Steve's eyes.

"Yeah, Eds," Steve breathes against his lips as their noses brush, "exactly as you are".

Eddie's not sure which of them moves first, it's only the faint brush of chapped lips against his own that sets off an unhinged chorus of, 'Kisskissingkisswhatthefuckyou'rekissingSteveHarrington'.

Eddie's fingers tighten against Steve's face before his hands begin to move on their own, one along his jaw until it has wrapped around the back of his head, burying his fingers in thick soft hair. His other hand shifts slightly lower, his thumb presses into Steve's jaw until his head tips back. 

The noise Steve makes against his lips as Eddie moves him sends a thrill down his spine. He feels two hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck as Steve presses himself even closer. Eddie's fingers tighten in Steve's hair, almost involuntarily, as the pulse under his thumb climbs even higher. Eddie hums contentedly and smiles into the kiss.

It's…God.

Kissing Steve is everything he's ever wanted. He tastes like peppermint, like the candy canes Dustin had brought Steve as a thank you for the ride to the dance, and Eddie can't help but wonder if the little shit had done so with this in mind? 

No, nope. Definitely not thinking about that right now.

He tugs his mind away from the thought and opens his lips more to brush against Steve's with purpose, pulling a sweet moan from the other as he nips at his bottom lip.

He pulls back begrudgingly after another moment, relishing the heat, the softness of Steve pressed against him. They're still standing in the middle of the ravine just a few steps from the middle school and it would probably be best to continue this sort of thing in private. 

Eddie shifts away just enough to run the tip of his nose down Steve's own, his heart fit to burst at the soft sigh Steve releases at the touch. His eyes are closed, but from the new blush that has spread from Steve's cheeks, to his ears and all the way down his neck, as well as the soft grin that pulls at his lips, Eddie can tell the feeling is mutual.

Eddie wonders just how many different shades of pink he could make Steve turn? 

A thought for another day, Eddie thinks with a mischievous smirk, brushing his thumb along the crest of Steve's cheek. 

"We should probably get back sweetheart," Eddie murmurs as he reluctantly removes his hands from Steve's face, "I can think of somewhere warmer we can go to talk". 

Steve nods with a snort, knocking his shoulder into Eddie, "talk huh?" 

"Is that not what the kids call it these days?"

Eddie drapes his arm around Steve's neck, tugging the other man closer. He comes all too willingly with a pleased grin stretched across his face.

"Besides," Eddie hums as they begin to make their way back the way they came, "my Uncle Wayne's been asking about when he can meet you --well after he weaseled it out of me, what was making me mope so much these last few weeks, he's already making Thanksgiving plans--"

They jerk to a halt, half slipping in the leaves and snow, he turns to Steve to meet his wide fearful eyes.

"You--your uncle knows, about me, about you?" Steve asks, the words stopping and starting as he speaks. 

Eddie reaches out only for Steve to take a step back into the trees, "why would you tell him--"

"He doesn't know about you specifically, Steve, I would never do that," Eddie insists, he keeps his voice level now with how close they are to the school again, he can hear the sounds of teens yelling and laughing in the short distance.

"Okay, but he, he doesn't care about…"

Steve trails off, his teeth closing down on his bottom lip and though chewing on what he wants to ask.

Your uncle doesn't care about you being gay, being different?

Eddie sighs, resisting the urge to lift his hands and press his fingers into his eyes, "Uncle Wayne took me in a few years ago when my parents kicked me out for that so, no, it's pretty safe to say he doesn't".

"Oh," Steve says faintly. His arms come up around his chest as he begins to hunch in on himself yet again.

Well shit. 

Now, Eddie isn't a hundred percent certain, but based on things that Steve has said, the warning that Nancy gave him, and what happened at the hospital, he knows that the Harrington house hasn't been the happy home he had assumed it to be.

And now, given the stricken look on Steve's face and the pinch in his gut, the doubts are fading even further away. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, stepping onto the tightrope between them, he'll have to be careful about how he plays this, or Steve could bolt again. He's seen Steve run track at school, he knows the other man could easily outrun him.

Best not to give him a reason to.

"You know, not all parents, um, deserve to be parents sweetheart," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching Steve's face as he speaks, "especially if they're never around".

He feels the rope between them wobble as he takes a step closer, holding out his hand.

"Especially if they don't love us for who we are Stevie," Eddie whispers, watching as Steve looks away sharply, his shoulders tense.

Eddie takes another deep breath before taking the leap, hoping that his feet will meet the ground beneath them.

"Wayne isn't like that, he's safe, and he wants to meet the person I've been mooning over for weeks now, if you're up for it". 

Steve swallows once, twice, his jaw moves as though grinding what he wants to say between his teeth, his nose begins to redden as his eyes grow damp at the edges.

"Yeah," he manages to choke out, his voice cracks down the center as he draws one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "maybe not, right, right now but --fuck, I'm sorry, I don't know why this keeps happening".

Eddie takes the last step and pulls Steve into his arms again; he stiffens at first before finally relaxing, almost boneless, against Eddie's chest. He feels Steve release a long hitching breath and squeezes him gently, rubbing his cheek against the slight stubble on Steve's own.

"Probably because it's been a really hard couple of weeks sweetheart," Eddie pulls back enough to look into Steve's eyes, they're red rimmed now and his lashes have begun to clump together, but even like this Steve still looks beautiful.

"Yeah," Steve says, he sniffs, wincing at the sound of his stuffy nose, "I think I could use a proper…talk, and a rest, if you're still up for it?"

Eddie feels a smile pulling at his lips as incandescent happiness glows in his chest. He pulls Steve closer once more, relishing the feeling of being able to hold Steve again, without the scent of blood and terror in the air. 

"Lead the way then sweetheart," Eddie says softly, knowing he'll follow Steve wherever he goes. There's a lot more for them to talk about, but for now, he'll be there for Steve as his person, for as long as he can. 

Forever if he can swing it. 

Tag List:

@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @steveshairspray @hellfireone @eddielives1986 @sunswathe  @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson @queenie-ofthe-void @rainbowsaw @sp0o0kylights @littlebluejane @hi-im-eff  @phantypurple @just-ladyme @thoroughlycollected @justrandomfandomstm @swimmingbirdrunningrock @finntheehumaneater @dynamic-powerm@nightmareglitter @genderless-spoon @zaddipax @thebiblesays @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre @lemon-astra @cipounette @discreetapple @starlitlakes @saphhicwitchbitch @marvel-ous-m @lingeringmirth @honorarybrit81 @bookbinderbitch @finntheehumaneater  @lololol-1234 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @monsterloverforhire @gaydrieeen @starlight-archer @homosexual-having-tea @devondespresso @rennnnon @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @carlprocastinator1000 @0o-queendean-o0 @emly03 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @louismeds @fruitmix

@lizzicleromance @fairy-princette @eddiethehunted

And a few people I think may be intersted!

@steddierthings @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @henderdads @bramble-berries @flowercrowngods

[elaina-writes-things]

I haven't seen a single episode of Hazbin Hotel yet. Prime's fuckin' expensive lmfao

Anyway, my TikTok FYP has been flooded with songs from the show, and fortunately I got a look at Big Daddy Lucifer himself, so...I think it's pretty clear I wanna take that for a ride.

I may make a part two. I may not. All I know is that I needed to write about him or it'd consume me.

~~~

Goddamn. Literally.

Look, you hadn't been a saint when you were alive, but you definitely hadn't anticipated eternal punishment in Hell. You hadn't killed anybody, or stolen anything, or been a huge hedonist. As far as you were concerned, you'd lived an extremely average life, the only remarkable part being that huge semi truck flattening you after the driver fell asleep behind the wheel. To you, the fact that you were condemned was bullshit, which is why you'd found yourself doing everything in your power to make it through this clearly-hastily-thrown-together rehab program at the Hazbin Hotel.

Now, though, standing in the lobby and watching a delicious little king strut around, you realized you wanted — needed — to fuck that guy more than you needed to get to Heaven.

"Charlie said her mom's pretty much out of the picture, right?" You whispered to Vaggie.

"Uh, yeah?" She whispered back, glancing at you briefly with her one good eye, then back to watching her girlfriend give Lucifer a tour of the hotel. "Why?"

"Just asking," you mumbled, enthralled. He was singing, now, with a voice like the gorgeous fallen angel he was. You wanted to know how musical his moans sounded, and what other sorts of things that mouth could do.

A glass of water suddenly appeared in front of you, held in a pink-gloved hand. You looked at Angel Dust, who smirked back and winked.

"Drink it up you thirsty bitch."

"Shut up," you hissed, taking the glass and pointedly setting it on the counter. His smirk only grew.

"Don't gotta be supes tall to ride that ride," the spider continued.

"Oh my god."

"Nah, He ain't watchin'. I could, though, if that's your thing."

You wanted to bury your head in your hands but refrained. If you did that, you wouldn't be able to stare at all six of Lucifer's wings. Those things were huge. How often did he preen them? Were they sensitive? Were they an erogenous zoNE OH SHIT CHARLIE AND HER DAD WERE COMING THIS WAY.

Like the others crowded together on the edge of the lobby, you straightened up and plastered a polite smile on your face. Down the line, your names were called out, and the king of Hell shook every corresponding hand. Then, he was face to face with you, and it shouldn't have been as adorable to need to tilt your head down just slightly to meet his eyes as it was.

"And this is another one of our guests! They volunteered to stay! Voluntarily!" Charlie boasted, giving her dad your name. Your hand fit nicely in his — warm, he was exceptionally warm. You didn't realize how cold Hell was until just this moment — and noticed how terribly it was trembling.

Lucifer repeated your name as Charlie gave it, staring almost as intently at you as you were to him. You'd give almost anything to hear him say it again.

Fuck, he had such pretty eyes.

"Thanks! I get that a lot!" He grinned. You'd said that out loud like an idiot. In your periphery, you could see Angel trying his best not to burst out laughing. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

"That's good," you murmured without thinking, eyes flitting up and down, "your body deserves to be praised."

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.

The hand clasping yours tensed up, squeezing briefly, painfully. You both stared at each other with wide eyes, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Then Lucifer quickly withdrew, turning away as though you weren't there and had never existed to begin with.

You ignored the curious look Charlie gave you, the wheezing coming from Angel, the annoyed understanding from Vaggie, and everything else as you excused yourself to go up to your room. Your face was beet red and your stomach was tight with shame. You wanted to disappear under the bed sheets, never to be seen again. Had you really just told the king of Hell you had a thing for praising people? At the very least, he probably thought you were a total whor—

Squeak!

You lifted your head up from where it was buried under all your pillows, coming face to face with a little, rubber ducky. It was cute, sporting two, rosy cheeks and a white top hat.

Gently lifting it, your fingers brushed against a scrap of paper taped to the underside.

"If you meant what you said, I'm free tonight."

A phone number was scrawled on the back. Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest as you read and reread the note, unable to fight the stupid grin on your face.

"Holy shit," you blurted, "I'm gonna fuck Lucifer."

[dreamsclock]

“So let me get this straight,” Techno deadpans, face perfectly straight, “you’re layin’ eggs.”

( HAPPY VERY BELATED CHRISTMAS @kenjo-arts !!! you wanted emeraldduo and dream interactions or one of your aus so i combined both ^_^ i Hope You like it AND THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT. I LOVE U <333)

(THANK YOU @the-final-sif FOR RUNNING YHIS :])

Dream scowls. Under the glare and the shadow of his mask, his face is flushed. “Look,” he says, “I’m not— I didn’t even want to tell you. But–”

“But you did,” Philza jumps in, bemused, “I don’t really get why, though.”

If looks could kill, both members of the Syndicate would be dead thrice over. Instead, they remain unaffected as Dream’s cheeks turn warm enough to fry an egg – bad choice of words, Techno thinks, all things considered. He sure hopes Dream doesn’t actually fry his eggs: he really doesn’t want to get into the logistics of egg-infanticide with his dubious ally-turned-bestie.

Said bestie, however, is pulling out a clutch of eggs he holds protectively to his chest as if he expects Techno and Philza to snatch them away and begin jumping on them in malicious glee. When Philza moves closer in curiosity, Dream has a sword out before either of them can blink, unwavering and firm.

Philza raises his hands in surrender and lets out a little clucking noise. Techno thinks it’s supposed to be soothing. It sort of just sounds like a chicken. “Easy, mate,” he reassures, “I’m just looking. They’re pretty.”

“Obviously,” Dream says, half-preening, “they're mine.”

And they are pretty, Techno supposes, not that he cares much about eggs. They’re pale green and freckled with darker shades, five of them huddled in Dream’s arms. It’s impossible to tell what will hatch from them, though he sure isn’t thinking too hard about it. He’ll find out in due time, probably: one of them already has feather-light cracks speckling its side, while the others are pristine, unmoving.

…He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dream so proud and protective over something of his before. He can’t decide if this is positive character development or not.

“I… wanted you guys to… like, hold onto them for me. For now.” Dream looks uncertain, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. In the pale light of the snow, his face is pale and drawn. “I will… come and get them. After tomorrow is over.”

“You mean the shit you’re pulling with Tommy.” Philza surmises, his expression flattening and tightening just slightly. He’s not forgotten the state Tommy had come to them in after exile: neither has Techno, who notices the way Dream’s shoulders straighten and his face grows deliberately impassive, when Philza’s anger makes itself known in the shape of one ruffling wing. “That’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“...Yeah, it is.” Dream allows, and says nothing more about his plans or his thoughts on the matter. Instead, he very gently and very carefully wraps the eggs in a blanket, swaddling the five of them so that only the tips of them are visible, before handing them over to Techno. His expression tightens into one of wistful yearning for a fraction of a second, before it disappears entirely behind that white porcelain mask. “I can’t take them with me, and… I don’t have any other allies. So. You know. We’re not exactly friends, but… I can pay you for it.”

Techno wants, for a wild moment, to pry the mask from his face and unearth Dream’s feelings about the eggs. His kids, he supposes.

He doesn’t do anything so lame or uncharacteristic. Rather than that, he accepts the bundle of eggs, handling them carefully, and– oh god, he cringes when one of them wiggles inquisitively. They’re warmer than he’d thought, thrumming with a quiet energy he faintly recognizes from the deepest, most inner parts of the server: which makes sense, considering they’re eggs from the admin of the SMP. Expecting anything less than slightly magical is dumb.

The aforementioned admin of the SMP shifts from foot to foot. He looks like he might grab the eggs back and make a run for it.

Taking pity on him, Techno clasps the bundle a little more securely, and offers his ally a firm nod and shrug. “Ehh, don’t worry about paying,” he says easily, “I just re-retired. I could do with somethin’ occupying my time. Even if it is five eggs.”

Philza squawks a laugh. “Never took you for a babysitter,” he teases, even as Dream relaxes fractionally, “what a career change. Never would’ve expected it.”

Techno shoots his friend a mock-glare. “I’ll have you know I have the credentials,” he says, haughtily, “you should’ve seen me before the Empire, Phil. You should’ve seen me. I was the pinnacle of babysitting, man. The pinnacle.”

“I bet.”

Dream whispers to you: so you’ll look after them for me??

When he turns to Dream, the man isn’t looking at him. He’s toying with the edge of his cloak, gloved fingers thin and shallow, and that’s when Techno realizes with a terrible clarity that Dream doesn’t plan on coming back for a long, long time.

His grip on the eggs tighten.

He’s hardly paternal, but he is loyal, to a fault.

You whisper to Dream: you have my word

And when Dream pearls away, leaving Techno with five eggs and a wonkily hand-stitched blanket, he knows it’s the last time they’ll see each other like this.

***

“Do you still have them?” Dream croaks in prison, throat slick with blood and voice hoarse from screaming. Techno wonders how long it’ll last before it gives out completely. Wonders if Dream’s voice might disappear entirely overnight. He barely uses it anymore.

“The eggs?” Techno asks, and his lips press when Dream nods. “I mean, not— not with me, Dream. Listen, I’m no Dad Of The Year, but I know not to bring five hatching eggs into a prison, alright. Jeez.”

Dream misses the rest of his ramble. His eyes light up for the first time when Techno speaks. “Hatching?” He repeats, as if he hardly believes his own words. “Like— You mean hatching hatching. Actually hatching.”

“No, no, the fake hatching.” Techno can’t keep the amused grin off his face despite his sarcasm. “I mean, they were pretty cracked when I left for here. They’re not about to start dancin’ around, but there’s not long now. Probably.”

The expression on Dream’s face is one he’s never seen before. It’s strange, wild. Hopeful.

“Okay,” his ally-turned-friend says, “okay. My eggs are hatching. So we’ve gotta get out of here.”

The firm tone is a switch from the hollow desperation he’d yelled at him before. (You were my only way out of here!) There’s determination, now, there’s reason to escape: reason, Techno knows now, for Dream to fight.

So he pushes an empty book across the scorch-marked obsidian to Dream, and offers a nod and an instruction. “Write down everything you can about this prison, Dream. I’m gonna need it if we’re breakin’ out of here.”

Dream flashes him an almost-grin, and it’s thin and exhausted and bright, and Techno watches him pick up the pen, and start to write.

***

“So.”

Dream doesn’t even look up from his dead-eyed staring contest with the wall. He just flips his middle finger in Techno’s vague direction, a silent shut up, before letting his arm fall limply at his side again.

“Soooo.”

Dream’s eye twitches. “So what?”

“I feel like we should discuss naming rights.”

“We— what?”

“Well,” Techno reasons, “it’s kind of joint custody of the eggs at this point. Sure, you birthed them—”

“That’s not how—”

“You birthed them, but I stopped Steve from eatin’ them. And believe me, that was a hard task, Dream. Almost impossible. Steve put up a valiant fight. He almost had them.”

That gets Dream’s attention. Eyes narrowing, mouth thinning into an annoyed scowl, he shuffles closer to Techno. Techno gets the impression he’s supposed to feel intimidated by Dream’s pout. “You let my eggs near a polar bear?” He demands, horror in his voice. “Techno. Seriously.”

“You remembered,” Techno beams, “you remembered Steve. Listen, you say we’re not friends, but this feels pretty friendly. I dunno. I’m just saying.”

“This— That’s not the point!”

“But no, I didn’t.Like I said, I won the battle. Steve fought hard, but I won. Good thing I’d been trainin’ so much recently. Any less and I think the eggs would’ve been breakfast.”

Dream’s eye twitches. “I don’t know why I even trusted you with them,” he mutters, antsy, “anything could happen to them.”

Techno scoffs, and offers Dream a trustworthy, reassuring look. “Dream, do I look like the kind of guy to let anything bad happen to your children?”

Dream stares dubiously back. “Yeah,” he says, “you do.”

…That doesn’t hurt his feelings, nope, not at all. He shoots his friend a pensive look. “When I get home, I’m gonna give your eggs to Philza,” he threatens, “he’ll put them in his nest. Don’t push me.”

“…You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Pass me another potato, nerd.”

The potato Dream throws at him bounces against his arm and clatters on the floor next to a splatter of blood. Techno wrinkles his nose. “Dude,” he says, “prison is lame.”

“Keep the eggs far away from Philza’s nests,” Dream warns, “or prison will get worse for you.”

***

You whisper to Philza: btw where are the eggs right now

Philza whispers to you: Why

You whisper to Philza: just answer the question phil

You whisper to Philza: where are the eggs right now

Philza whispers to you: They’re not in my fucking nest

You whisper to Philza: phil

Philza whispers to you: I’m taking them out of my nest and putting them back

Techno breathes a sigh of relief, and glances over at a fitfully sleeping Dream. “Crisis averted,” he mutters out loud, and then, “Chat, don’t be snitches. What Dream doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

***

And Techno’s not hurt when the eggs are the first thing Dream checks when he gets to the Syndicate. Pft, why would he be? It’s not like he’s the one that helped free him or anything, nah, course not.

“All I’m saying,” he grumbles to a cackling Philza, “is that the eggs didn’t sit in prison for three months with him. I’m not jealous, Phil. I’m not jealous. That would be crazy. They’re eggs. Not even that cool. But—”

“For fuck’s sake,” his friend laughs at him, “go inside and show him where his eggs are. He’ll be tearing the house apart looking for them.”

And Philza’s right. Dream is already pulling the chests apart searching for his eggs, as if Techno hadn’t stored them somewhere safer the very moment he’d escaped Pandora’s Vault the first time.

“Where are they?” Dream demands.

Techno nods to the wall. “I’ve been callin’ it the Baby Backrooms.” He says, proudly. “Though it’s kind of more of a Baby Hideout. Doesn’t sound as cool, though.”

A couple of swift strokes with his pickaxes tears open the wall, and reveals four large eggs, cracked but safe, huddled together in the corner of a light blue room. Dream’s gaze softens when he sees them, and steps inside, narrowly missing the bedtime story Techno’s been reading them most nights. Sun Tzu isn’t light reading, but hey, Techno’s determined to make incredible battle strategists of them yet. One of the eggs likes it the most: it wriggles whenever he pulls the book out, and he hates playing favourites, but he has to say, he’s got the most faith in that one.

“I’m back,” Dream breaks the silence to say to his eggs, kneeling down beside them and gently tracing the thick fractures along the curve of the darkest green one, “hey, hi, hi! Did you miss me?”

Techno doesn’t point out that eggs can’t talk for two reasons. The first is that he thinks Dream might actually murder someone if his moment with the eggs is disturbed. The second, slightly more alarming reason is that one of the eggs are missing.

When he’d left the room before, there had been five eggs in that room. The four now aren’t exactly inspiring him with confidence. Dream is really going to kill him if he’s lost a whole egg in the space of, like, four hours.

Dream scoops up the eggs, and turns to face Techno. There’s a look of relief on his face that’s so raw and unfiltered that it takes Techno a moment to recognise what he’s seeing. It’s like a part of Dream that had been missing during prison has been returned to him: Techno realizes with a pang that that’s exactly the case.

“I have a question,” Niki chimes in from behind them, “I have lots of questions.”

When Techno turns, she’s holding a tiny miniature version of… Dream himself.

“Mama,” it squeaks, reaching out to Dream, “Mama.”

Dream melts, right there and then.

***

“So… you laid this.”

Even someone blessed with the patience of a saint would have snapped by now. Dream, who is neither blessed nor patient, seems to be on the verge of murder someone: specifically, Tommy, who hasn’t stopped asking questions since he’d appeared at Techno’s door with questions. Four months had been enough time to solve the conflict between the server (…mostly), but it seems like Tommy’s boundaries don’t include tiny little green blobs like Dream’s newly hatched eggs running about the SMP.

“I already told you,” Dream says, “I didn’t lay them. They just appeared as eggs.”

“So you… make eggs,” Tommy says, “and then you like, you black out, and then you like wake up and find the eggs. Egg amnesia. Egg-nesia.”

Dream very visibly counts to ten in his head. Techno can’t stop himself from smirking and joining in.

“Yeah, Dream, I’m not gettin’ the science behind this whole thing,” he drawls, “can you explain it again?”

“You—” Dream splutters. A tiny version of himself with a green cloak travels by on one of the dogs, and throws himself into Dream’s arms. Dream cradles him absentmindedly. “We live in a world with a revive book and a randomly implemented three life system, and you’re confused about eggs?”

“I get it,” Tubbo says wisely, “sometimes every man reaches an age where he must lay an egg.”

“…That’s… actually not true,” Dream says, “most people don’t produce eggs randomly from thin air.”

“Who did you produce them with?” Tommy asks. “Was it George Not Found? Oh, that’s so weird. You’ve made it weird, Dream.”

“How have I made it weird? I—” Cutting himself off, Dream’s head perks up. “Hang on,” he says, “Philza’s trying to take one of my new eggs.”

Tommy’s face drops into total stupefaction. “It happened again?!” He demands. “When will the horror end?”

“What is wrong with you?” Dream groans, pushing himself to his feet and very carefully handing over his baby to Techno. “Look after Ray for me. I swear to God, if Philza is building a nest around my eggs again…”

He doesn’t finish his threat. Nevertheless, his warnings of violence are clear. Techno silently wishes Philza luck, and shifts his hold so that he’s juggling both the baby and the book in his other hand.

“I still think we should think about naming one of your eggs after me,” he says, “I was such a great babysitter. That’s why they turned out so great.”

Dream, halfway out the room, turns slowly, and gives him a very incredulous look.

“You think you were a good babysitter? So you think letting my babies play with Steve was a good idea?”

“They didn’t die,” Techno protests. “They were fine.”

“There comes a time where every man must fight a polar bear.” Tubbo says solemnly

“Tubs,” Tommy tells him, “that’s just not true. Wilbur just told you that because I wanted to see you be mauled horrifically by a bear.”

“Oh.”

“You could call one baby Blade,” Techno calls over Tubbo and Tommy. Dream laughs. “It’s not very creative, and a little hurtful, but hey, it sounds pretty cool, alright, it sounds pretty awesome. Or— Tech. I’d be fine with Tech.”

“I’m not naming a baby after you.”

Dream rolls his eyes as he walks out, but there’s a grin on his face.

You whisper to Dream: can i at least be godfather

Dream whispers to you: only if you gaslight tommy into thinking he was an egg once

You whisper to Dream: you drive a hard bargain

You whisper to Dream: it’s a deal

“Hey Tommy,” Techno calls out, “you remember being an egg? I still have pictures of you somewhere from before you were hatched.“

The look of absolute horror on Tommy’s face is priceless, and the knowledge of the title godfather makes him grin all the brighter.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @autumnal-dcthings; JayKon soulmates, TimKon datemates, and the wrong Superboy. TW for some very vague nsfw themes/thoughts and a touch of dubcon; cut for length.

“Who says you’re the one who deserves entertained here?” Jason snorts, baring his teeth. Fake Superboy’s smirk turns decidedly dirty, and he rolls his hips up against Jason’s jock. His dick feels at least as hard as the armor.

Like, not in the sense that the guy actually has a hard-on right now. Just in the “his dick is definitely indestructible” sense. Jason’s fucking stupid brain is having a little bit of trouble parsing the difference right now, though. 

Also part of him’s kind of wondering how that works in the–for fuck’s sake, he’s going to book two extra therapy sessions this week. Maybe more! Who the fuck knows, at this point! 

This whole thing is just such fucking bullshit. 

“TTK is like, a passive perception thing, you know,” fake Superboy mentions casually, which seems like an interesting piece of information for a body-hijacker to have, Jason notes to himself, barely resisting the urge to narrow his eyes assessingly. “I can feel everything you’ve got whenever I want.” 

“That doesn’t sound very ‘passive’,” Jason observes dubiously. Pretty much the opposite of it, in fact. 

“I can feel it when you look at me, too,” fake Superboy hums, tilting his head, then grins wickedly. “Even through the mask.” 

Jason, immediately, regrets every time he ever checked out Superboy when he had a mask or helmet on and the opportunity, including the pre-soulmate-realization times. And also, it’s seeming increasingly likely that this asshole might have access to Superboy’s memories, assuming that wasn’t just a lucky guess or a cold read. Definitely not reading his mind, though, or they’d know the jig was already up here.

But if the actual Superboy is actually aware of just how many times Jason’s checked him out, he should maybe just go face-first into another crowbar. 

He should definitely do that, actually. 

“High opinion of yourself there,” he says, and fake Superboy preens. 

“Yeah, you’ve been giving me one,” he says with a sharp grin. Jason longs for those theoretical kryptonite brass knuckles. “Makes a boy feel downright pretty.” 

Prick. 

“Shut up,” Jason says, and picks the least annoying option of several very annoying options and kisses him again. Fake Superboy makes a surprised little sound, barely discernible, and then a performatively smug one, and kisses him back. 

This sucks. And not because fake Superboy is such a lousy kisser. 

. . . mostly not, anyway. 

Sue him, Jason would rather the stupid presumably-evil doppelganger he's making out with right now knew how to kiss no matter who they looked like.

God, his life is fucking pathetic and weird and his priorities are absolutely fucked. He seriously needs to get a fuckbuddy with complementary psychological issues to his own. Meet a nice vengeful bastard and work out some stress or whatever. 

His therapist would not agree, but his therapist isn’t getting hit on by a fake version of the soulmate who’s dating her brother, is she, Denise.

This whole situation is actually even more stupid than telling a woman named “Denise” all his issues translated for civilian ears, but such is his fucking life. 

Why didn’t he just stay dead again? Because he definitely could’ve just stayed dead. Like, there were multiple opportunities for that. He was in fact spoiled for opportunities for that. 

“I like it when you look at me, Hood,” fake Superboy murmurs between their mouths, his voice low and throaty and sounding just like all of Jason’s dirtiest daydreams. Jason, again, thinks longingly of kryptonite. This asshole can’t kiss, no, but he sure as shit can talk. “Gets me kinda . . . excited, you know?” 

Jason wants to blow up this entire fucking building. Or block. 

Or city, maybe.

Where the fuck is his backup? Is there an all-hands going that nobody thought to mention to him? An apocalypse he somehow didn’t notice? For fuck’s sake, it’s supposed to be a goddamn panic button, not a “hey, if you’ve got a sec” kind of thing! 

Not that he has any personal trauma about anybody showing up too late to do him any good or anything like that, of course. Definitely not. 

Maybe it’s gonna have to just be daily sessions this week. 

“Did I tell you to shut up or not?” Jason says, baring his teeth again and internally promising himself he’s going to read Bruce for filth after the bastard’s fucked up the response time here so phenomenally, whenever said bastard can actually be bothered to show up. He doesn’t care if his fucking spine’s broken again, at this point.

Fake Superboy laughs, and kisses him again.

[dairy-farmer]

You know what would be Fun~☆? Hunter Tim AU!

What is he hunting? That BatCock. He a "no really guys, I'm super Manly and totally dominate" type a guy! TOTALLY gonna... gonna hunt Batman down and... something something Batman's cock in his mouth. Look, he doesn't have the BEST plan? But he's working on it!

He's TOTALLY gonna Sex The Batman, okay!?

He's GOT THIS.

All he has to do, is fight, overpower, then trap or restrain one of planet Earth's BEST combatants... who is also both bigger then him and built like a tank... and has years more experience...

.....okay, so, shut up maybe?

He's STILL GOT THIS! This is a GOOD idea! Not just his horny, horny, bad idea impulses talking! (It iiiiiiiis.)

So? There he is. Once again harrasing the Bruce. And? Maybe Bruce is off his game. It's been a LONG patrol. He's sore, he's tired, Selina is back to being... well, Catty. And once again, this relatively harmless minor vigilante is "hunting him". It doesn't even register as a threat.

Fuck it.

Will you leave him alone if you succeed? Huh? Congratulations. You've "hunted" me. Go home kid. The roof tops are no place for a twink in armor, I could snap you in half.

But? Tim is like? :O I did it? :D I DID IT!!!

And... okay that's kinda cute. But Bruce still feels like shit today so could we... whaaaat're you doing?

And Tim? Tim is GOING to fulfill his long time ambition of getting that bat pole down his throat, he's been practicing! (Interesting information go "oh~?")

Tim? Has barely any idea of what he should be doing. It feels amazing. But sloppy and "very eager virgin". It's... honestly it's exactly what Bruce needed right now. He finds himself grunting and whispering little instructions, bits of praise. That's it... right there... bit harder...

Tim gets distracted. Wrapped up in what he's doing.

But it's FINE. It's not like Batman can escape relatively basic restraints with the same ease most of us BREATHE of anything. No, no, he's DEFINITELY super trapped. At Tim's mercy. Tim totally has the upper hand here and is the dominate o-! *hands gently grab his head and take over*

He is not.

It's cute he thinks so, but he absolutely is not.

He wants Bruce's undivided attention? He certainly has it now. And he's not going to be escaping anytime soon. Because honestly? Bruce has really needed this. An uncomplicated outlet, someone hot and eager in his bed. And he? Is perfectly willing to drag this little troublemaker back and RUIN him.

The lil shit has been trying to "hunt" him for YEARS.

Been after his cock for YEARS, have you?

Then take it.

Tim will insist it all TOTALLY went according to plan. You know... when he can move again. Eventually regains something like coherence, on Bruce's bed, back in Wayne Manor. He TOTALLY sexed Batman. Seduced him! Yep, he was all dominate and "hey baby~ ;)" and Batman was like "oooh I can't resist his charms!"! *long sip of coffee while avoiding eye contact*

*is covered in hickeys and wearing Bruce's shirt*

Yep. That... that's TOTALLY what happened here. Tim seduced your Dad. He is the Father now. Very Manly. Shut up. *siiiiiiiiiiip* >.>

-🐼

tim preening like a cat that got the canary, patting himself on the back because he thinks he has successfully seduced batman 😭

[msgexymunson]

Stray

Description: Eddie finds a kindred spirit.

Warnings: as far as I can tell, none! Pure fluff, gender neutral reader

A/N: Just a cute lil idea I had and I had to let it out so my brain would let me focus on mu next big fic. Enjoy!

700 words

Masterlist

"Eddie, where the hell have you been?" 

Flushed and panting, Eddie flops down onto the chair in the cafeteria, one arm held almost protectively across his chest. 

"What do you mean? I'm right fuckin' here!" 

Rolling your eyes, you shove his shoulder. 

"I didn't ask where you are, I asked where you were, doofus!" 

"I had shit to do, God, don't get your panties in a twist." 

You know you should drop it; being Eddie's best friend, you know him well enough to know when to stop. When his neck tightens like that, and his nose scrunches a little, you're sure he's being serious. 

It seems however, his little sheep aren't as perceptive. 

"Eddie, did I just hear a meow? Don't tell me you've brought a feral cat into the cafeteria?" Dustin says, arms waving in front of Eddie's face. 

"Just drop it, dude!" You see his flustered attitude, the tightening of his shoulders. 

"You found a cat Eddie? Fuck." Gareth says, hand reaching out to Eddie's jacket but he flinches from the approaching grip.

"You've all lost your minds. What's wrong with you? Imma have a smoke." And with that, he leaves just as mysteriously and abruptly as he arrived. 

The guys all stand in unison, each loud mouth expressing some theory or another. 

"Ok boys, enough chatter. Lemme speak to him." You wave your arms in a calming gesture to placate the growing hubbub and make your way to the bench where Eddie did his deals. 

Enveloped in the quiet whisper of the woods, you inhale the deep pine scent and cast your eyes on your best friend.

There he was, like he always was, sitting on the bench, cigarette in hand. Only it seems his face is halfway in his jacket, deep in conversation.

'Eddie?" Your voice rings a question, and he answers with a quick whip of his head. 

"It's OK, I'm just checking on you." You raise your hands in mock submission, inching closer to him, to take your obligatory seat opposite him.

He sighs so deeply you feel it in your marrow. 

"I'm ok, just, can you keep a secret?" He gazes at you with earnest eyes, eyes you'd been in love with for longer than you'd care to admit. 

"Eddie, it's me. Of course I can." 

His shoulders visibly relax at your words. At the same time, a very curious nose makes its way out of its leather jacket confines, sniffing the air. 

"Eddie, is that a raccoon?" 

He smiles. "Yeah. It's just a baby, I dunno where it's mom is, it was all alone." Eddie strokes at the baby raccoon's head making quiet shushing noises. It preens at his touch. 

"Jesus Eddie we should call animal control-" 

"No!" The strength of his shout nearly knocks the wind from you. 

He softens at your flinch, hand held out in supplication.

"They'll just put him down! Lucifer's not done anything wrong, just doesn't have his mother anymore but he's super sweet, he's just got a bad rep, you know? Doesn't mean he's bad, and why should we judge him anyway, just 'cause people labelled him a pest!" 

You watch the tears gather in Eddie's eyes as you finally connect the dots. 

"Oh, Eddie." You bite your lip, willing your own tears to retreat as you reach for his hand. He takes it gratefully, lost in each other's eyes for a moment. 

"He's not a pest. He's a little life. I tell you what, I know who could help. You know that Mr Clarke, the middle school teacher? Dustin talks about him all the time, I bet he could point us to a wildlife sanctuary, or a charity or something."

Eddie beams, face igniting like the rays of the sun. 

"You think so?" 

You stroke his knuckles, face turning a pale pink.

"I know so." 

Suddenly, Lucifer the Raccoon climbs out of the makeshift enclosure of Eddie's jacket and crawls it's way over to you. 

"See, he likes you!" Eddie grins. 

Taking the little ball of fur into your hands you hold it out at arm's length.

"I think you should think of a new name for Lucifer." You giggle, turning the baby raccoon this way and that. 

"Why?" 

"Because Lucifer's a girl."

Eddie laughs. 

"Lucy it is!" 

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @munson-blurbs @zestychili @corrodedhawkins @indouloureux @cool-nick-miller

Masterlist

[bloodyinkandquill]

Sword x Reader x Rocket

yay polyamorous time, im questioning if im poly and my sister just straight up is so coolio, so should be accurate, im also a swocket shipper, but this is a x reader blog so the only shipping that will occur is poly self shipping :]

- Getting with one of your friends was unexpected, getting with two of your friends who were already dating was even more unexpected

- They were both so sweet about it, they had thoroughly discussed it before hand and all three of you gave each other equal amounts of attention and affection, like Sword wrapping his wings (hc) around both of you, one on each side, or Rocket laying across the both of you, legs on one head in the other, before swapping to get his head pet by both of you equally

- It was an adjustment to figure out how to go about certain couple-y things though, you found that if you all wanted to sleep in the same bed it couldn’t be Rocket’s his was too small so it would have to be yours or Sword’s, and with that Sword had to be big spoon due to his wings so that left you and Rocket to choose who was little spoon and who was medium spoon on any given night

- Kissing was also something that led to confusion and experimentation, onetime you tried to all kiss at the same time, you ended up getting a bloody nose, Rocket loosing his shit laughing and Sword helping you by giving you tissues and telling Rocket to calm down, you guys just decided on two of you kiss, then two of you, then the last two, maybe more time consuming but less risk of injury

- Speaking of Rocket would purposely ‘miss place’ his leg so you two would carry him somewhere, like to the living room or to whoever’s bedroom, while one of you could do it by yourself, or maybe just Sword, he always insisted the both of you carry him, going ‘woe is me’ you two would roll your eyes but go it nonetheless

- You and Rocket would help Sword preen his wings, one of you gets one wing the other takes the other, you carefully go through his feathers while you all chat, you can also afterwards see Sword itching to do the same but since neither of you have wings he can’t, but his semi-bird brain wants to preen you in appreciation for preening him

- You guys all get plenty of one on one time though, you and Sword going out for dinner, Rocket inviting you over to play video games, Sword and Rocket training together, you all know you don’t have to do everything with all three of you, and sometimes you need some time with just one of you, or even some alone time since having two partners can be a little more tiring sometimes

- If two of you go out on a date for food and bring back leftovers, whoever wasn’t on said date can and will eat the leftovers, Sword does so after asking, and Rocket gets mad if neither of you bring back any leftovers for him to eat, so you and Sword learned to leave a little bit of food so you don’t have to deal with a huffy Rocket that can and will throw his bionic arm at you in retaliation

- You guys definitely have sleepovers, like full on teen girl movie sleepovers with nail painting, face masks, gossip, prank calls, it’s all so silly and unserious but all three of you adore them, Sword surprisingly is amazing at nail painting and Rocket can absolutely slay in some makeup, you all laugh and then fall asleep in each others arms, you probably wake up sore because you fell asleep in awkward positions but oh well

- You made the three of you matching lockets that contain the other two’s pictures, both thought it was the sweetest thing and you guys almost never take them off unless showering or think it might get damaged like in phights, which you cheer on Rocket and Sword if your not a phighter, if you are you guys make some goofy trio moves and accidentally distract each other during the matches

yippee, also my sincerest apologies i was going to open my requests again once i posted this however im about to go to sleep and i don’t wanna wake up to 7 requests, so i shall open them first thing after i wake up in 6 hours basically exactly (7:30 am mst american)