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mc-i-r · 9 months

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Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

#steddie #stranger things #pre steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fillet #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #things get better for Steve i promise #hes just having his angsty time right now #robins part is next tho so stay tuned for that #disposable heroes

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kaeyacollection · 2 months

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Who's ready for my Master Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Crepus Theory!!

I originally posted this over at Hoyolab and people there seemed to really like my favorite joke theory that Crepus just tries to gaslight the whole of Mondstadt right after obtaining Kaeya

Majority of this will be the same but with little tweaks for the wonderful tumblr audience

This joke stems from Kaeya's introduction:

and the use of the word "rumored"

Cause it's not like it said beyond Teyvat or the seven nations just Mondstadt

And I mean like c'mon how many families are living off the grid in Mondstadt

(Actually... Don't answer that I forgot Glory's boyfriend is just

Out there in the bush with Razor...)

Initially I had the idea of Crepus walking around the markets one day carrying Kaeya with Diluc beside him running into Varka who asks:

"Who's the boy?"

"You mean my son?"

"Not Diluc the boy you're carrying"

"I have two sons? You know this??"

But then the Caribert quest came out mentioning Kaeya ran away from home near immediately and was dragged home by Crepus just as fast and it became even funnier

Cause imagine you're by the docks one day and richest man in town gets off the boat with no cargo but instead a tiny child you may not have seen before that Crepus seems to be very cross with at the moment and threatening to turn him into a leash kid if he runs off again

In a small town that loves gossip do you know how fast that information is spreading? Cause I do and Varka's knocking on Crepus's door 30 minutes later like:

"Is this what we're doing? We're just taking kids now?"

Both paths lead to Varka asking where Kaeya comes from and getting hit with a

"I think you're a bit too old to still be confused about the birds and the bees Varka"

Varka getting frustrated to the point he just starts demanding Kaeya tell him what's up

Love to see him following in his fathers footsteps of stressing Varka the fuck out

And upon hearing how his birth father left for juice and didn't return Varka went

"Good! That was ALL I needed to know!!"

Follow ups on if his father intended to abandon him or got lost in the storm and needed a search party?

Don't care!! You weren't kidnapped!!

Welcome to the knights! 🤝

Which bringing it back to it only being a rumor

In a town of alcoholics, who's gonna call out the one guy with the winery?

Here's some add ons that got sparked from the comment section 😘

Bonus panels would have included Varka showing up with Rosaria one day mimicking Crepus about "wHaT you ForGot I haD a Kid" sparking a trend within the community of just adopting random children to the point posters are made saying "In Barbatos name: See a child Take a child"

Alice seeing it and pulling a "when in rome" tucking both Albedo and Diluc(who is yelling he is an adult) under her arms and telling Klee if she ever sees someone in need of a mom let her know she'll send over the paperwork right away

And then the last bonus: Venti wakes up, walks in through the gate while playing a tune, and stops when he sees the poster, not sure if he needs to start yet another revolution, or if this one is fine actually

I imagine the posters had to be taken down because visitors were losing their kids left and right and the solution of parents pinning a note saying "not dead & still want custody" to their kids shirt didn't catch on but the saying still lives strong in the hearts of Mondstadt's citizens I mean look Bennett and his 27 dads Mondstadt may have a lot of orphans but the demand is even higher

Comment on original post:

"I have a headcanon where Kaeya fooled first Crepus, then the rest of Mondstadt but.this is too funny!! I want to see this happening!"

Which prompted one of my new favorite lines at the end:

"Wait by fool Crepus first do you mean like Crepus finding him out in the storm bringing him inside to ask him where he lives and Kaeya's just

"? I live here? You adopted me? Are you feeling okay?"

Cause I'm absolutely cry laughing over this that's so good but that also means when Kaeya runs away Crepus is just

"hey no no l'm not misplacing you a second time come home" "

#Kaeya may have wandered away from his last family (believes Crepus) but that sure as fuck wasn't gonna happen a second time #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #crepus ragnvindr #Crepus #dawn family #genshin impact #Genshin #thats right now I get to be the one with the many tags trying to get this out there lmao #dont worry I wont do this often here this blog is primarily a trap to get you guys to check out a very talented lore blog #uh I mean...#to show you various fan works of Kaeya?#hey what's that pinned post up there?#god I hope this is formatted right I havent made a tumblr post since we had post headers #and god damn did it keep fighting me #also it's like 5 a.m. if you see any mistakes...#that's tomorrow's problem

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beom-pyu · 1 year

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nights ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ huening kai

huening kai x fem!reader , tags; established relationship , tiniest bit of angst , nsfw , emotional hurt/comfort , cute bf!kai , misunderstandings , he's had a long day, okay?!?! , u make it up to him tho!!! , kai luvs u , fluff , this is so soft i can only write soft stuff HELP , kai almost cries :(( , you call kai "angel"

warnings: smut (minors dni!!) , insecure kai , riding , unprotected sex , cumming inside , slight dom reader? u take the lead , marking (hickies) , praise praise praise , tit sucking , cockwarming

a/n: hiiii!! its been so long since i've posted a fic! currently wrapping up this semester :3 but thank you all for 350+ followers!!! i know it may seem small but all of your support really makes me so sososos happy and im so thankful for u all! now here's some cute bf kai for ur enjoyment hehe

wc: 3.2k+

“i am literally on the verge of quitting this damn job,” you groan with your phone pressed against your ear, lying horizontally on the couch in one of kai’s shirts and panties as some random drama plays on the t.v. in the background.

this has been going on for weeks—your lazy boss has been assigning you and your coworkers extra reports so he can go on vacation, leaving your entire division working overtime almost every night. you are both stressed and drained, fed up with your higher-up’s mistreatment.

“i hear you. how did we end up with the worst boss to grace this earth?” your coworker, sakura, whines into the mic in agreement.

the sound of keys at the door seizes your attention, pulling your phone away from your ear for a second to check the time. 9:15 p.m. kai’s schedule must’ve ended earlier today.

“hey, sakura, my boyfriend just got home so i’ll text you.” you give kai a small smile and wave as he enters your apartment, his exhausted eyes brightening at the sight of you. he slips his shoes and jacket off quietly as to not disturb your call while you and your coworkers say your goodbyes.

once you’ve hung up, you motion kai over to your spot on the couch as you try to sit up, giggling once his entire body flops directly on top of you. he buries his head into your clothed stomach, mumbling out a discernable sentence into your belly as his arms come to wrap around you.

“what was that, angel?” you laugh out as he mumbles something again before his head turns to the side, his eyes closing as your fingers tangle into his hair.

“said i missed you. and you smell nice,” he speaks sleepily, nuzzling his cheek against your shirt. you let out a chuckle, gently running your fingers through his hair.

“i missed you too, angel. how was your day?”

kai simply whines in response to your question and you take that as a good enough answer—you understand right away, tapping his cheek so that he can raise his head. he looks up at you, his fluffy hair bouncing a bit, falling into his eyes. your heart flips at the adorable sight.

“rough day, hm?” you ask as you push his hair back and he nods with a little pout, his head flopping back down.

“so busy,” is all he replies with and you automatically understand, your fingers massaging his scalp. “just gonna rest my eyes…”

and you’re sure he’s already falling asleep as he goes dead silent in your hold. you chuckle at your teddy bear of a boyfriend before your phone dings with a notification. you grab the device and you immediately have to suppress an annoyed groan at the email from your boss. you’ve already clocked out and he’s still assigning you more work.

you open your messages to text sakura.

you: he just emailed me another report to finish this week

you: like, can’t he do it himself???

you feel kai nuzzle himself further into you, shuffling around a bit before going still again. your hand is still mindlessly playing with hair before you get another notification.

sakura: and guess who just called me back in.

you: no way. is he being serious rn?

sakura: yup. completely.

sakura: he must’ve lost his mind

sakura: if he even had one to begin with

you: he’s literally so annoying wtf

you: i can’t stand him

you: idk how much longer i can put up with him tbh

“can we watch a movie?” kai suddenly mumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. you smile at his sleepy tone, your fingers stilling in his hair.

“i thought you were tired?” you inquire playfully.

“wanna spend more time with you,” kai speaks nonchalantly—but you’re sure your heart explodes in your chest at the simple words. you love him so much.

“let me go get some snacks and you pick the movie.”

it takes a good 2 minutes to finally get kai to move off of your body—complete with a few whines and grabby hands—but the mission is successful nonetheless. you toss your phone onto the couch before heading into the kitchen, rummaging around in the cabinets for popcorn.

it takes much longer than you intended, already hearing a movie begin to play on the screen as you pour the freshly popped food into a big bowl, grabbing some drinks out of the fridge as well.

kai gives you a stiff smile as you walk back into the room, arms full of snacks. you shoot him a questioning look, but his eyes are already glued back onto the t.v. screen. it is pretty dark, so maybe you didn’t see correctly—but you are sure you saw tears in his eyes too.

“you okay, angel?” you ask as you set the popcorn and drinks out on the coffee table, your eyes flickering over to him in between every movement. he looks over at you quickly before nodding slightly.

“mhm. just sleepy.” he offers you a faint smile before turning back to the movie. you feel a little uneasy at the response, but he did say he had a hard day and you don’t want to push him any further. you take a seat next to him, pulling your legs up to your chest before grabbing your phone to see if sakura has texted you back.

“babe…?” kai starts, slow and unsure. you lift your head from your phone to give him your attention, taking note of the way his hands wring in his lap, his leg bouncing anxiously.

“yea?” you ask, tossing your phone to the side to turn your body toward him. his eyes flicker up to yours nervously before darting away.

“i—nothing. nevermind,” he awkwardly laughs, shaking his head slightly as he tries to focus back on the t.v.

worry fills your body at his actions—if there’s one thing you knew about kai, it would be when he has something on his mind. and you can tell there’s something on the tip of his tongue by the way his leg continues to bounce, his mind clearly off somewhere far away.

you pout a bit, moving to straddle his lap, successfully gaining his attention. his eyes shoot up to yours and it’s only now that you can clearly see the slight glossiness of his orbs, tears pooling in his waterline.

“angel, what’s wrong?” you ask, your hands immediately coming up to hold his face. kai rarely ever cries, especially around you, so your gut churns with concern as he bites his lip and looks away from you, hands clenched at his sides.

“i’m sorry,” kai mumbles out, looking down at his lap. you let out a tiny noise of disagreement, your thumbs grazing his cheeks in an attempt to comfort him—yet he still continues to avoid your eyes.

“why are you apologizing?” you raise a hand to brush some of his dark hair out of his face. kai shakes his head again, his locks falling right back into his eyes.

“i’m sorry for being annoying—i just had a rough day and… i didn’t mean to be clingy and make you uncomfortable. i’m sorry, i won’t do it again. just—just don’t leave me, please.”

all of kai’s words rush out in a single breath, his voice slightly cracking at that last sentence, his body trembling slightly. you struggle to keep up, your brows furrowed in confusion.

“kai, angel, look at me,” you speak and despite his initial apprehension, his head lifts at your words. his eyes are shiny with tears as you cradle his face. “what are you talking about, my love? where is all of this coming from?”

“you… you left your phone unlocked when you got up—i didn’t mean to snoop but i saw your texts…” his voice is quiet and filled with sadness as he explains. your eyes widen as realization dawns on you, letting out a sigh of relief. this time kai’s head tilts in confusion, a pout settled on his lips.

“kai, i was ranting about my boss. you know—how he’s been making me work overtime lately?”

you watch with fondness as his cheeks redden, lips pursed shut. you can’t help but giggle as his hands shoot up to cover his face, covering your hands with his own.

“i’m so stupid,” his muffled voice sounds from behind his large hands. you laugh a bit—just because he’s so cute—moving your hands to pry his own from his face. an embarrassed smile rests on his lips and you are quick to peck them, once, twice, before leaning back.

“you’re not stupid, angel. it was just a little misunderstanding,” you giggle and he whines, his hands covering his face again. “come here, cutie.”

his harmonic laugh fills your ears as you lean in close to gently move his hands out of the way, kissing him again. you feel his body slowly unwind as your lips move against his, your hands replacing his own as you cup his cheek, pressing your body close to him.

when you separate, he’s out of breath, his hands hovering at your sides as you gaze down at him lovingly. you notice how perfectly placed you are in his lap, slightly rolling your hips down onto him—his lips part at the action, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“just relax, angel. let me do the work, okay?”

your hands are still on his cheeks as his eyes glimmer up at you, still wet and glistening. he nods in response, his mouth hanging open slightly as he stares at you in awe. so cute. you smile down at him before pressing your lips against his, your hands sliding into his hair.

kai softens into your touch, his hovering hands finally resting on your hips, holding you steady in his lap. you moan a bit as his teeth eagerly nip at your bottom lip, tongue swiping across shortly after to ease the sting. his hips move up against yours, trying to create any friction possible. he’s already hard, you notice, feeling his thick erection pressing against your core.

you pull away from the kiss to take a good look at his pretty face, his lips slick with your spit, a slight pink resting on his cheekbones. you can’t resist the urge to lean down to kiss up his jaw, pecking that spot under his ear that makes his body rack with shivers. he whines quietly as you suck marks onto his skin, still slightly sticky with sweat from his long day.

“do you wanna fuck me, angel?” you whisper low in his ear—and he quite literally moans at your words, nodding quickly as his hands grip your hips tighter, his hips bucking up into your clothed core.

“yes, yes, please,” he pants, already tugging at your clothes to get them off of your body. you giggle at his enthusiasm, letting him pull your shirt over your head. the movie running in the background does little to nothing to cancel out the heavy breathing as you wrap your arms around kai’s neck, arching your back a bit as he takes one of your sensitive buds into his mouth.

his tongue swirls around your nipple, his hands coming up to grope your boobs, loving how soft and bouncy there are. his hips move against you impatiently, but you know he won’t do anything without your word.

“my good boy,” you sigh out, the flashing lights from the t.v casting a sparkly reflection in his dark eyes. you smile dreamily at him, cupping the side of his face in your hand before you lean down to kiss him again.

his hands roam your body with such determination and your mind grows muddled with every kiss to your chest and brush of his fingertips against your heated skin. you can feel yourself leaking through your panties as you grind against him. you sit back a bit to grab the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up.

“i wanna see you too,” you speak as you help him take it off. you’ll never get used to how gorgeous he is—you know he’s been working out even more recently, and the fruits of his labor are definitely starting to show. his pecs are prominent as you lightly drag your nails over his feverish skin, hearing the strained moan he lets out at the touch. always so sensitive.

you trail your fingers down to his stomach and he lets his head fall back with a sigh. you lean in to press fluttery kisses to his bared neck and a low moan leaves his lips as you bite onto his skin. he smells like the cologne that you had gifted him for his birthday and the scent makes your stomach flip with anticipation.

“all mine,” you mumble and his hips buck up again, his head lulling to the side to give you more access to his neck.

“all yours, all yours,” he echoes out, his hands running up and down the sides of your body. you feel your core pulse when he brings a hand down to rub your clit through your panties, rolling your hips against his fingers.

your actions are feverish as your fingers trail lower to the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling his pants and underwear back in one swift motion. his crying dick slaps against his stomach at the action, already leaking glistening precum that leaves a trail across his lower stomach. his tip is an angry red and you have to resist the urge to get down on your knees and have a taste for yourself.

kai’s hands are obediently still on your hips as he waits for your next move, eyes flickering across your face. you give him a small smile before placing your cupped hand right below his mouth, cocking your head to the side.

“spit.”

and he does—a string of saliva leaving his mouth, dropping into the palm of your hand, dripping off of his lips. the broken moan that leaves his lips is music to your ears as you grab onto his erection with your slicked-up hand, spreading his own spit over the length.

“you listen so well, angel,” you breathe out, watching as he preens at your praise, a tiny smile finding its way onto his face. he looks so gorgeous—with his dark hair roused and in his eyes, cheeks flushed, his beauty marks sitting on his skin like stars in the sky.

you lean in to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his lips, his tongue immediately swiping over your bottom lip. he pants into your mouth, whining softly when you squeeze his dick a little too hard, his hips shaking as he tries not to thrust up into your hand.

you have mercy on him though—already feeling yourself leaking onto his pants. you pull your panties to the side, lining yourself up with his dick. his eyes never leave yours, staring at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes as you rub his tip in between your folds; a whimper leaves his lips as you slowly sink down on him, your eyes fluttering at how full you already feel.

his dick is thick and long, filling you up perfectly—as if your cunt was made for him. your legs slightly shake at the feeling, your free hand resting on his shoulder to hold yourself steady as you begin to bounce on his cock, soft moans leaving your lips as his tip hits your cervix every time.

“so good, angel. so big, fuck,” you whine and kai’s fingers tighten on your waist, subtly helping you move up and down on him. your moans mix together beautifully, loving the way he whimpers when your walls clench around him, his hands running up your back and down your thighs, touching every part of you in his reach.

you can’t even chastise him when he begins thrusting up into you, his head thrown back against the couch as he watches you through hooded eyes. your bouncing tits put him in a trance, his hand coming up to brush over your hard nipples. your pussy gushes and soaks his lap, eyes screwed shut from how addicting his cock is, twitching inside of your cunt.

every thrust into your heat makes your stomach flip with pleasure, getting lost in the way his hips snap against yours perfectly. you can tell he’s getting close too by the way his rhythm falters—his moans are high and breathy, his body shaking slightly as you rock your hips back and forth.

“can i—fuck, can i cum, please?” kai stutters out as he lifts his head to rest his forehead against yours.

“fill me up, angel. i’m all yours.”

his heavy pants fan your lips and you capture his again, moaning at the way he hastily licks into your mouth. you can already feel your high crashing upon you with one last stroke, your own whimpers falling deaf to your ears as his moans tip you over the edge. your body buzzes with electricity as your pussy pulsates around him, feeling him pump his thick ropes of cum into you at the action.

you swallow his moans as his hips thrust up into you a few more times before slowing to a stop, his tongue swirling with yours, swiping over your teeth, pulling away to kiss down your neck—as if he can’t get enough of you. you let your body fall forward onto his chest, your breath fanning against his neck.

you’re both quiet as you come down from your highs, the movie on the screen long forgotten. once your arms stop feeling like jelly, you sit up, finding kai’s eyes easily in the darkness of the living room.

he’s completely ruined—lips shiny and red, his neck and ears the same color. soft marks are already blooming on his skin from your ministrations and you find yourself lightly brushing over them, pressing into the bruises with the pads of your fingers. kai’s eyes don’t break away from your gaze as he bites his lip at the slight pain, his dick twitching inside of you. good to know.

“i love you, angel. you did so well,” you smile down at him and you swear his ears go even redder as your fingers stroke his hair. “please don’t ever think for a second that i would leave you, okay?”

kai nods quickly, leaning into your touch like a puppy.

“i love you,” he responds, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest. you let out a small noise of surprise at the quick movement, but melt into his embrace even quicker. his hold on you is strong as you rest your head against his shoulder.

“can we just stay like this for a bit?” kai mumbles, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. you giggle a bit, nodding in response. his dick is warm and snug inside of you, trapping his cum inside of you. his body feels like home against yours as he pecks your skin, and you let your eyes flutter shut in the arms of the one you love most.

reblogs are highly cherished!

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©️BEOM-PYU

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trials-of-a-spirit-worker · 10 months

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Spirit Work Basics

You voted, I listened. I meant it. So buckle up as we go through the basics of Spirit Work.

I've touched on this on other posts but I'll make a massive post here. This is not going to explain everything and will still be pretty broad. Cause I do not have the time, the knowledge, nor patience to try and explain EVERYTHING.

But I do hope it helps.

Look under the tags advice, spirit communication, spirit work for more detail.

So hello, I'm Sol. I've been working with spirits since I realized I was speaking with them. I had the gift since I was a young child, first spirit I saw being my grandfather on my father's side shortly after he passed away. He was a pastor, supposedly, I was doing the best I could to repeat his favorite verses despite me being a small little shit. I don't remember the verses, I do remember speaking to him a lot however.

Which is where we'll begin, how to speak to spirits.

Maybe she's born with it? Maybe it's insanity~♪

Well, how do we begin with speaking with spirits? There's a number of ways, actually. Some do have the natural ability, like myself but that shouldn't discourage people who are newly trying and don't have that natural affinity for it. Spirits can and will talk to anyone if you open yourself up. Just takes a bit of work. But Sol, you may ask, how do I do that?

If you've been on witchblr for a bit you know what I'm about to say next: Yup.

Meditate.

Now listen, meditation is a way to open yourself up to the spirits around you or just at least signal "hey, I'm open to talk to." It gives you a good sense of your own energy and the energy around you. Meditation doesn't have one look either. A lot of people can't just sit still and kept their legs crossed or be on their knees with their eyes closed (I see you ADHD/ADD people). Hell, my lazy ass will meditate lying down.

Literally the definition of Meditation: to engage in mental exercise (such as concentration on one's breathing or repetition of a mantra) for the purpose of reaching a heightened level of spiritual awareness. transitive verb. : to focus one's thoughts on : reflect on or ponder over. (merriam webster)

It's pretty broad, right? Hell, you can even work out and meditate. I do it all the time. Cause I focus on my breathing and the feeling of energy through my body. Basically you can get creative with it.

While you're meditating, make sure you're feeling your own energy. This can come in a number of ways; waves, your heartbeat, a feeling of something cloaking you etc. While you have that feeling down, envision an opening, whether its a door, or just acknowledging you're reaching out to the other side. Whether or not you get an answer back, you are putting yourself out there and that's half the battle done. Just be sure to know how to close yourself and ward your body. Spirit work and opening yourself like that is no joke and I'd like you to be safe.

To do that, just envision whatever you had opened closed or recede back or whatever you used that worked for you.

Signs to Look for

Some of the more common tells of a spirit hearing and trying to communicate are of the following:

Small echos/voices in the back of your head

Random thoughts that may not be your own

Knocks or things shuffling

Strange dreams

Small phantom touches

Feelings of being watched

And Many More!

"But Sol," some of you might say, "that's really fucking vague and could just be explained away."

Yeah...welcome to spirit work. You thought this shit was easy?!

You have to work on your discernment. It is a skill needed for this type of work.

Seems counterproductive, but it's not! See, if every bump and noise was reported as ghosts or spirits, well...we'd be even less believed than we already are. When doing spirit work, or ghost hunting, you are stuck with the burden of proof and it's a huge burden to have. This is why people ask for repeats of actions, to speak again in recorders and other things. We're asking for repetition, because science is prevalent, especially in spiritualism and occultism. We have to be our own skeptics so when we have something that can't be explained away, we truly have something to celebrate.

Tools on the Job

No one said you had to do this all on vibes. No shame in using tools. I'll more than likely take the time to make specific posts about each tool in the future cause this post is already really long but I'll give you a nice rundown of basic tools.

By the way anyone who tries to shame you for using tools or says "only trainee or baby witches use this or that" are tools themselves (not the good or useful kind) and should not be given the time of day. Tools are fine. Use them for help if you need it because that's what the fuck a tool is for.

Now these aren't all the tools you can use but I'll give you some well known ones. I've seen witches get real creative and it's honestly super cool watching them use strange things that you'd never think about as a witchcraft tool. But that's what makes it so fun.

Tarot cards

Tarot is something I often use. 78 cards all with different meanings. There's many many ways to interpret them and multiple themes that many of them have.

My best advice for these are to just look up the overall meanings both upright and reversed just to have a general consensus of each card. Play around with them a lot, and interpret them the way you would as if you were making a story with them. You can also use them for spirit communication.

Calling forth a spirit allowing them to touch the deck (just leave it for a moment and allow them to influence the deck as it were before doing the spread). Holds a lot of power in your hands but is a little slow.

Pendulum

A pendulum is usually a crystal tied to a string or a chain that can be swung over a board of either yes or no or maybe for its options. Sometimes there is a mock ouija for the pendulum to spell out things as well.

Cool thing about a pendulum is it can be anything that swings if you wish. Some people I've seen take off their necklace and use it as a pendulum just fine. Just have a singular point and you can get to work anywhere with it. Please make sure to ward yourself from invading or malevolent spirits when you do this though.

Lots of pendulum or spirit boards exist and have different templates as well.

This is more of a call and response type of device to use. Especially when you feel a spirit present Still has a fair bit of control in your hands.

Ouija board

The infamous kids game works around the same way a pendulum does, except there is a planchette that slides over the board. This is a call and response based tool much like a pendulum. However, it is a little easier for the ghost to manipulate and control. Which is where all the stupid stories of ghosts completely taking over and fucking up shit takes place. Also, half of the biggest problems are just humans being humans which means victims of groupthink. So... stupidity. Someone freaked so you all freak...the energy gets bad and shit happens. Do your best to remain calm and just work through it.

Also no. ZOZO XOX 2O2O etc does not want your ass. Many spirits claim that shit to get a rise out of you anyway. Guys...no, I swear it does not happen. This is main character energy that none of us have...or want! Even if a demonic entity came in to fuck with you, there are plenty of other ways to do it. Be fucking for real.

Please remain kind and courteous to who you contact. Do not let your paranoia about this tool make you do stupid things. Always say goodbye when you are finished. Try and stay as calm as you can.

Never. Ever leave the planchette on the board unattended. Lest you get an unwanted guest or one that'll overstay their welcome.

Crystal Ball

Crystal Balls are a good way to detect energies. This is normally used in a private setting cause it desires a lot of concentration. Now, I'm admittedly not that knowledgeable in this because I don't use my crystal ball often.

Also, your crystal ball doesn't have to be clear. Mine is obsidian and I love her.

When having your question, focus on it and concentrate. Make sure it is open ended. I mean you can have yes or no, but it's gonna be a bitch to decipher a yes or no answer.

Close your eyes and let the answers come to you in the forms of images and colors and such, examine all you can as just let your intuition work.

Sounds simple but its a rather interesting art form to work on. Symbols and such can confuse you and it's heavy on your interpretation. I'm sure there's books and stuff out there for a general view of this symbol you see might mean this or that but...largely, this is a true test of how you read your intuition.

I'd do it more, if I wasn't closeted and lived with nosy closed-minded people.

C'est la vie.

One important thing though...don't leave your ball uncovered. Especially if it's clear. That's how you end up with burned shit. Those bitches are like mega magnifying glasses. And it happens faster than you think. Science is scary.

Mirror/Water Scrying

Mirror and water scrying is kind of the same as a crystal ball except it's a quicker and often less expensive way to work on your divination.

Some people have a specific mirror that they black out and scry that way. Others have a scrying bowl made for divination alone. It's just as good. You can use any bowl or mirror however. Just be sure to cleanse the area before you start and after you're done.

Some thank the water used for divination before putting it down the sink or in the earth. But that's more of an individual's choice/belief/faith than anything else.

Lots of occultism and spiritualism has a thing with mirrors being portals, openings, etc to the otherside and can bring some unwanted visitors.

And as someone who now sleeps with their mirror facing the wall now, I will say I believe a lot of what people say on that.

I want a goodnights sleep damnit.

Just be sure to cleanse your tools after use. Better safe than sorry.

ETC.

There's a lot of creative ways people can use these tools and magic. So don't think of magic as a recipe for how to be a witch or do witchcraft. That's half the fun of witchcraft.

Discovery.

Finding ways to do things, to hear, to see, to communicate. Yes there are certain tools that work better than others but, we as individual people also work in different ways.

There's a psychic out there who reads asparagus like bones. There's someone who will scry with a puddle on the ground they found. People have their own methods and ways to work their magic and we should learn from them. So if you have some non normal tactic or even something unsual, embrace it to the fullest.

I divine with music. If you ask me it's Apollo's influence. My spirits communicate with music.

When I meet people and get a good vibe on them a song comes to mind, and even if I forget your face, your voice, who you are, that song will remind me what I think of you. Songs pop up in my head when people associated with it are close.

I'm not going to say I'm the only one in the world who does this, cause that would be some bs. But its my tactic and its natural.

Do what is natural for you and not what other witches say you should do.

Even me, I beg you not to try and emulate or follow my advice down to a T if it doesn't work for you. Don't force it to work.

I am just one person, one voice spouting some advice. Take what you can from it, take what helps and work your own path. And then in turn do the same. I'm a path offering person not a director. But that's...just...me...

"But Sol, how do I speak to spirits?"

Talk.

Yeah, that simple. Talk.

This can be in a lot of forms. Some write and burn letters to ancestors, or past family members. Set up a placement for talking to them. Admittedly, a lot of spirit work and communication is experimental. We just warn you over some things because they've happened enough for us as a collective to go ah, a pattern.

I have urns at home so it's pretty easy to say hello in that case.

I am NOT telling you to go into a graveyard and just go wussap. No. Some spirits don't want your tomfuckery. Also if they're feeling really chatty all at once you might get overwhelmed and you will not have a good time. Read the dead room.

Open yourself up. WARD YOURSELF FIRST! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS. But yeah open yourself up. Learn how to open your pathways and close them first. That comes with meditating. Yes, this is why damn near all of us nag the shit out of y'all about meditating.

Just talk and listen. It won't happen immediately. It takes time and a careful ear. Remember signs to look for. You might spot them before you hear them. Small instances of shadows out the corner of your eye. A touch from nowhere, a shiver down your spine. Other things going off or being moved, etc. Slowly, someone or something will receive your message and try to respond in kind.

When you get these small responses, just keep calm and say hello or acknowledge what they've done.

"Oh, someone's here"

"Hello there"

"Are you still here?"

It'll be awkward (try to remember where you are, don't be a weirdo in public), but overtime you'll get better at it.

Conclusion!

Like any skill, spirit communication takes practice.

There are a vast plethora of ways to communicate with tools that I haven't mentioned as well, like automatic writing which is a pretty good beginner way to jump in.

Just have a pen/pencil on paper, write what comes to mind. Its a good way to practice hearing and catching signs as well.

And something I will never stop saying is you don't have to take this journey alone! Especially if you don't want to. Find someone experienced to start this journey with. Someone who calms you, who can support you. Support and asking for help is good. Last thing any of us want is for you to get hurt or scared out of doing this if this is something you really want to do. So call us, talk to us. Confide in more experienced people.

So many times on this site and other places, we are begging to form this beautiful network so we can help one another, give advice, hang out etc.

We are right here, just reach out for us. You'll get a hand back in kind.

#witchcraft #witchblr #witches of tumblr #spirit work #witch community #spirit witch #advice #witchcraft basics #witch tips #witchcraft tips #witchcraft for beginners #baby witches

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theglamorousferal · 10 months

Text

The Cryptid of Smallville

I am posting the first couple chapters of the fic that I am currently working on juuuust in case AO3 goes down again. In the next couple days I’ll start posting some of my wips that I don’t think I’ll finish. If any of them inspire people to write more then I’ll be happy.

I had the thought a while ago about what if Danny was raised alongside Clark Kent and the hijinks that would result in Danny being near the liminal space that is cornfields. These are basically a series of connected one-shots because I am not that great at trying to do a real plot lol

Without further ado, here’s the first chapter of the Cryptid of Smallville! (Small edit: here’s the link to AO3 the first two chapters are there)

______________________________________________________________ The night sky was clear and open above the cornfields as a gentle breeze caused the plants to stir. It was a calm night on the Kent family farm. A streak of neon green broke across the sky and landed in the middle of the fields, purple tinged smoke wafting from the crash site. A boy of about six rolled over in his sleep, glowing green eyes glancing at the stars above framed by smoke. The gentle breeze is still blowing, returning the night to calm.

*****

Danny was gonna put Clockwork in soup time whenever he got back into the Zone.

He was laying there, staring at the clouds in the sky, surrounded by corn, and only about three and a half feet tall, wondering where in the Realms he was. Clockwork had said something about sending him off somewhere with people who could handle a child with powers growing up before tossing him through a portal by the ankle. He had ended up in low orbit and was lulled to sleep by staring at the stars he is so fond of.

Crawling out of the hole he was in, he examined the surrounding area and just found a bunch of burnt and slightly smoldering corn and kicked up dirt. The gentle breeze brought the smell of bacon to his nose and he floated to look just above the tall plants around him. He spots a house in the distance and starts heading there, making sure to walk the last few yards just in case this isn’t where CW intended him to go. He finds himself stumbling from the field just to make eye contact with a man pulling on his work boots for the day on the porch steps, the man freezes.

“Hey Martha?” The man yells into the house.

“Yes Jon?” a voice muffled from the door yells back.

“Do we have a spare room done up?” the man, Jon, asks, not taking his eyes off Danny.

“Why? Are you expecting someone and forgot to tell me?” the voice sounds like it’s getting closer to the door.

“No honey, I think we may have a repeat situation of Clark though.” He briefly glances from Danny up to the last bits of smoke wafting from the field. A quiet “What?” comes from the house. He gentles his voice, full attention on Danny. “Hey son, did you have a bit of an accidental landing in the corn? Is your head okay? Are your parents around?”

Danny stays still for a moment thinking about what’s going on. The man seems to at least suspect that he crash landed on his property and mentioned something about something like this happening before. Have these people dealt with a random child appearing at their house before? Specifically one that crashed from the sky? He has many questions, but he should probably answer Jon first.

“Yeah, I got sent away until I was better, my head doesn’t hurt at all and my parents are not exactly from around here, and don’t know where I am.” He pauses thinking about it. “Does the children-crashing-onto-your-farm-thing happen a lot to you?”

Jon chuckled as he finished tying his boots up and walked down the stairs just as the door opens and a woman in an apron is standing there looking surprised to see an unknown child standing in her yard. The man crouches down in front of Danny, giving him a once-over.

“You’d be surprised, now what’s your name son?.”

“It’s Danny Fenton, what’s yours?”

“Jon Kent, my wife over there is Martha. Now you look like you could use a good meal and a washup, how’s that sound?” Jon grins at Danny and musses up his hair before standing and offering a hand to walk into the house. He smiles over at Martha who blinks and then gives Danny a warm smile, standing aside to let them enter the house.

“Good thing I made some extra breakfast then, let’s get some food in you young man, you’re as skinny as a post!” She smiles and heads towards the kitchen. “Be sure to wash up your hands first hun, can’t eat with dirty hands! And Jon! What have I told you about your muck boots being in the house! I’m sure Danny can find his way and wash his own hands; second door on the right hun; and git outta my house with those things on, I’ll have more coffee ready for you once you feed the animals!” Jon pouted and trudged his way out of the house.

Danny smiled a little to himself as he looked for the door Martha was talking about, noting the wallpaper and decor that looked like every midwest farmer’s house he’d seen in any piece of media ever. After washing his hands he made his way to where he could hear soft humming and dishes being washed. He saw a plate of pancakes and bacon on the table next to a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk, and a container of syrup and headed to the spot.

“Thank you Mrs. Kent.” he said from his seat and she smiled back at him, going back to the dishes. Danny realized he’d probably have to start explaining what he could to them soon, but decided to focus on the breakfast in front of him. The breakfast that wasn’t alive and currently trying to kill him. He nearly cried.

“So Danny,” Martha began as she wiped her hands off with a dish rag. “Do you remember how it is you got here?” She joined him at the table with a cup of coffee after setting a mug, a spoon and the sugar bowl next to the machine for her husband when he came in.

“I do, it’s a really weird story though, I’m not sure you’ll believe me.” He was hesitant, he still wasn’t sure these were the people that Clockwork meant to send him to. Though they’ve taken the whole crash-landed-child-thing pretty well… Screw it, he’ll see if he can wait until Jon comes back and explain to both of them. “Can we wait for Mr. Kent too? I don’t really want to say it twice.”

She smiled at him, taking a sip of her coffee and then nodded. “That’s fine hun, he shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes unless the rooster decided to pick a fight again.” she chuckled to herself, looking out of the window while drinking her coffee. She sees the faint trail of smoke rising in the sky outside and her eyebrows pinch in worry. “You didn’t happen to see anythin’ burning when you got up, did you?”

Danny glances out the window and sees the smoke. “Oh no, there was just a little bit still smoldering in the hole, but there wasn’t anything actively burning. I can show you both when I finish explaining what I can.” The slapping of a screen door startles him and Jon walks in, heading straight for the coffee maker and making himself a cup, then joining them at the table.

“So Danny-boy, what can you tell us?” Jon gives his full attention to Danny.

Danny shifts in his seat, looking every part the six year old he appeared to be, uncertain at the attention of two adults. “Well, it’s a long story and kinda out there? I’m not sure how much you’ll believe?” He looks uncertain at the pair across from him who share a look. Martha reaches across the table to take Danny’s hand.

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe the stuff we’re used to, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Danny only hesitated a moment longer and then sighed looking far older than his apparent six years. “So to start off with, wherever this is, I’m not from around here. I’m assuming since you both speak English that this is still Earth, but maybe not MY Earth, I’m still a bit confused on the whole ‘multiverse’ thing, but either way, I got sent here until some stuff got sorted out and so I’ll be here until it does.” He was rambling, he knew, but he’s kind of anxious about stuff. “I kinda got put in my childhood body and now I have to get back to my actual age and my Guardian said something about time here running differently than in my dimension before he just chucked me through a portal. He did say he was sending me to people who could handle my weirdness as I age, so I’m assuming you are them and maybe have some experience with kids with freaky weird stuff happening to them?”

The Kents once more shared a look, this one a little longer than the last, then turned back to Danny. “Oh son, I think you’ll fit in just fine. So, how long can we expect you for? I can tell you’re probably a lot older than six judging by how you talk?”

Danny blinked at him, trying to process the fact that they didn’t seem phased and rather seemed like they believed him. “Uh, I was sixteen, so I guess a decade? I’m sorry to impose on you for a while, really I can figure out stuff on my own, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Jon chuckled “Oh trust me son, it wouldn’t be an issue, I’m sure Clark would love a younger brother, or at the very least a friend who understands him. We have plenty of room here, and though we’d probably ask you for help with chores, we’d be glad to have you for however long you need.”

Danny blinks again at them. They weren’t serious, right? They just seem fine taking in a random child and having him live with them for however long. And who was this Clark? What did he mean by younger brother?

“Clark?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh right, our son, you’ll meet him when he gets home from school, I’m sure you’ll get along just fine! Now Danny, let me show you to a room and we can get you settled, we’ll probably have to head on over to the thrift shop to get you something to wear besides these charred and muddy pj’s, but we should have something from Clark that’s too small that’ll fit you for now.” Martha took his hand and led him upstairs to where he’d be in apparently his new home.

*****

Clark had had a pretty boring day at school. The classes were boring. He had to hold back in gym class again and when studying the skeletal system in biology, he started studying the teacher’s bones instead of the display skeleton or the worksheet. He was really looking forward to getting home and maybe going for a fly around the fields where no one could see him or maybe catching the latest episode of Rescue Rangers.

He could spot his house in the distance and after looking around to make sure no one would see him, he sped down the driveway as fast as he could, knocking up a lot of dirt in the process. He really liked going fast, whether running or flying. He just loved the wind in his hair.

“Ma, Pa, I’m home.” he kicked his sneakers off and rushed upstairs into his room to drop off his bag. He listened around for heartbeats and realized that Pa was out on the tractor and Ma was out with the chickens. He froze as he heard a much closer sound though. It was very slow and faint, but he could hear another heartbeat in the house. Even more, he could hear someone muttering to themselves in the guest room and the flipping of pages.

Clark slowly made his way down the hall towards the sound and peaked in the room with his x-ray vision. There, sitting on the ceiling, was a child about half his age reading a ratty old book about space. Clark stood in the doorway, now able to see him in regular vision and just stared at him. He took a moment until he decided to just join him up there and sat across from him.

“So who are you?” Clark asked while the kid was still focused on his book. He didn’t even look up from the book.

“Name’s Danny.” The kid paused for a second before he looked up and stared at Clark. Danny looked from Clark to the ceiling, to the floor, and then back to Clark. “Oh, so that’s why they said I’d fit right in here. I guess we are pretty similar! I’m guessing you’re Clark then?” The child beamed at him, putting out his hand to shake. Clark took it gently, not wanting to hurt the kid. Then the kid gripped his hand tight and Clark realized that they have more in common than he thought and gripped his hand tighter in response.

“So where are you from?” Clark asked, very curious as to how this kid who could fly and had his strength, but also had almost no heartbeat ended up at his house. Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m not from this Earth and I kinda got put here to recover for a long while and my Guardian decided your parents are the best equipped to handle a kid growing up with powers, so he sent me here. I’m guessing because of you?”

“Yeah, mine started manifesting around your age. What powers do you have? How long do you plan to be here? Where are you from? You said this wasn’t your Earth, I’m guessing you’re from a different dimension then? That’s so cool!” Clark, ever curious, shot off many questions rapid fire and Danny laughed while answering them all as best he could.

Part 2

#Danny Phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #superman #clark kent #danny fenton #danny is a cryptid #cryptids #de-aged danny #ma kent #pa kent

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cdbabymp3 · 2 months

Note

Having thoughts about hamzahs hands and arms likeeeee… sexy. Just him always touching you and u love when he puts his arms around you.

𐙚hands & arms ― hamzahthefantastic

notes/warnings: sfw & nsfw hc's !! i did indicate where the nsfw portion starts though so if you just wanna read the sfw you can ! slight mention of weed lol (i kinda went overboard w this ... 🤒)

[unedited]

sfw

-boy's got the prettiest hands evaaa 🌟

-he's extremely touch deprived so he's gotta be holding your hand at all times

-in the winter when it's absolutely freezing, he'll take your hands in his and blow hot air, rubbing them to create friction 😭 he's so corny i love him

-if you guys are high, he'll compare the size of your hands with his for the millionth time and act surprised (his are muchhh larger)

"whaaaattt oh my goddd y/n you're like a little alien !!"

-he likes to cradle your face when you kiss, generally just needs to hold you in any given situation

-you could be reaching for something above you in the kitchen and he feels the need to keep a hand on the small of your back like he's spotting you at the gym BYEEE

-when he first met your parents for dinner, he had a hand on your thigh the whole night. if there was a brief pause in the conversation or he didn't know the answer to a question your dad asked, he'd squeeze your thigh for help

-likes when you kiss his knuckles and fingertips, it never fails to bring a smile to his face and he always returns the favor

-this is probably super niche but i feel like he's good with his hands ??? not even sexually (well-yes but we'll get to that in a sec...) but just able to open difficult things that are too tedious for you

-he has a very steady hand is what i'm trying to say... so if the clasps of your bra are being difficult or there's a random knot in your earbuds he's your guy ! 😁

-again, maybe too niche, but he's a fast typer as well

-if you have a huge essay due and you're exhausted, just tell him what you want to say and he'll put his slutty little glasses on and type if out for you so fucking quick bc that's bf !! 💘

-now his arms ...

-he thinks he's not that strong but oh he definitely is

-can open anything for you, even those annoying ass sauce jars that are literally airtight

-THIS BOY'S A TEASE THOUGH so yes you will have to SHOW HIM that you tried to open it and then he'll be like "ok fine lemme do it 😒"

-okay he hates the whole hyper-masculine mentality of a girl making a man feel manly butttt there is one exception: when you guys are walking together and you hold onto his bicep ... goes fucking crazy for that

-he likes to pick you up all the time !! during fights, when he gets home from filming, when you tell him good news, etc. etc.

-you could be in the middle of a stupid argument where both of y'all are just being petty for nothing and you know it, so he'll pick you up while you're cussing him out and put you over his shoulder

-you protest at first, demanding he put you down, but then he'll spin you a bit to make you laugh and get over whatever y'all were fighting about

-piggyback rides and carrying you bridal style are a must

-yes, he let's you do the tiktok trend where you tie a ribbon around his bicep. no, he does not let you post it.

nsfw

-driving hamzah driving hamzah DRIVING HAMZAH !!! one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your inner thigh with the most innocent expression on his face as his fingers creep towards where you need him

-likes when you suck on his fingers mhm mhm he will NOT break eye contact when you do it

-WILL interlock fingers with yours when he eats you out, he needs the intimacy

-very skilled with his hands as i mentioned earlier ...

-he may be an inexperienced bachelor but this boy knows where the clit is and how to circle it just right

-since it took a while for you guys to actually fuck in your relationship (bc he wanted to take things slow) fingering was his go-to and jesus christ is he good at it 🪦

-his fingers are fairly long and thicker than yours so he's curling them and reaching all the right spots

-his hands are calloused from lifting and it's hot !! this is smth i won't negotiate

-when he's caressing your thighs and ass you can feel how rough they are in certain areas and it only adds to the stimulation

-he will lightly hold your neck when you guys makeout, not quite enough to choke you though, he's so cute

-ARMS ARMS ARMS ARMS MY WEAKNESS 🐺

-can definitely toss you around if you get what i mean ...

-it's always jokingly though, he'd never want to actually hurt you so he doesn't use his full strength

-if you've been at a party together and are dying to get home to be alone he will speed back to his place, slam the door behind you, pick you up to walk over and throw you onto his bed, laughing at how horny both of you are

-can literally lift your weight with one hand, so if you guys are kissing on the couch and want to switch to his bed, it's light work for him

-hates himself for it but he does have a hint of a size/strength kink that i don't think he'd ever openly admit lmao

-looooovesss when you grab for his biceps during the initial thrust into you ... DONT GET ME STARTED

-hugs you from behind 😵‍💫 he knows how much it turns you on

-like you're super focused on something and he'll walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your body, swaying you side to side to distract you

"hamzah..." you warn

"what???" he always plays dumb

^this almost always ends in making out and/or hooking up

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @forevergirlposts

(lmk if u wanna be added, luvs!!)

#cdbabymp3 #hamzahthefantastic headcannons #hamzahthefantastic imagines #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #slushy noobz

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lushlovers · 1 year

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The P-word, J Burrow

summary; he doesn't know what to say or how to react to things like this.

warnings; fluff fr, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy tests, pet names (baby, honey, ) joe actually kinda sucks with words but same lmaoooo, swearing, kissing

word count; 903

note; yes angst but also fluff. i'm working on more frat!lsu!joey, but this was something random I wanted to post since it's been a little while. i hate the ending no one talk about it. winter writer's block ain't no joke fr.

this is kind of my thank you for two hundred followers even though we are just on the cusp of three, but thank you so much, I appreciate the support of my works more than you will ever know. i love every one of my followers so so sooo much yall are the best:)

Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. Maybe the more you think of those eight letters will fade away and completely off the little plastic at-home test you decided to finally take. God the word just keeps ringing in your head like the most annoying of alarms. How the hell are you supposed to tell him? His career's just started he'll never be along for the roller coaster ride, especially not when it consists of a baby running around as well.

However, luck chooses to be your opponent this evening since Joe's already home and sitting on the couch in the living room, completely oblivious to the fact that your world has just turned completely upside down. It took a while for you to work up the nerve to call him up, but when you did everything suddenly felt so heavy.

The weight refused to leave your shoulders as he sat on the truck at the foot of your bed. Rehearing in the mirror, preparing for every scenario, but especially for the one that you hope and pray will never occur. Everything that you've been through together, nothing will go wrong, he's too good of a person.

After several minutes, worry becomes evident in your voice as he asks you through the door if everything's alright, "'M fine, just nervous, I guess." That seemed to do the opposite of what you intended, that is, maybe your lying and saying you're fine would shut him up for a bit, but your being nervous led to many other questions from the other side of the door.

Adding on to that p-word, every what if clouds your mind as well. What if telling him this is your biggest regret? What if he just packs his shit and leaves? What if-, "Baby, are you sure?" Fucks sake he's still going with his questions, in any less stressful situation this would've been appreciated, but not when you can barely seem to focus on the most topic at hand.

Now or never, seemed to be the only thing that got you to push open the door and finally face the man you love so dearly. He almost instantly jumps up, concern written all over his face even more so when he glances in the direction of your hands. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?" No, not entirely, you think but you won't let that escape your mouth, matter of fact, nothing leaves your mouth for many seconds. Maybe never was a good idea.

It took a bit for you to unscramble your words and finally speak up, "I'm gonna tell you something, but you have to try not to freak out." Your mouth felt dry the way your anxiety made your throat close up made it feel like your lungs had shrunk five times the size they were before, "Okay, care to share? I'm like shitting my pants right now," Joe spoke, chuckling but not because it was funny, he laughs because he's terrified of what words may escape your lips.

You do everything you can to avoid his eyes because the all too familiar feeling of tears surfaces on your waterline and his brows furrow at that. "Honey, you know you can tell me anything, yeah?" His question is lost to you as he cups your face thumbing away the tears before they got a chance to slip down your cheeks. The feeling of his eyes searching yours for any answer to all the questions that he's thinking about is a scary feeling.

"I'm pregnant," it comes out as a whisper, but the way the color completely drains from his face, you know he understood every syllable of those two words. For a split second, he stares at you with a look you don't think you've ever received from him before, "That's... wow." A strangled breath of half relief and half worry escapes you at his response.

Your soul leaves your body as he racks his brain for something to say to express just how he's feeling, but he's almost certain there is no possible way to verbally explain it. Now tears are welling up in his pretty blue eyes, "That's insane, I dunno what to say, are you sure?" His voice is trembling just as much as his hands as you place the test into his palm, he gets choked up as he reads over the same word that had your stomach in knots before with nothing but admiration and surprise.

"Holy fucking shit," he gapes, pulling you into him so tight it nearly knocks the wind right out of you. You laugh now as it settles into your mind that Joe would never do anything to hurt you or your baby in any way possible and to think he would ever leave in a situation like this one was silly, but thinking irrationally tends to happen quite a lot.

"I'm gonna be a dad, I need to call-" you cut him off before he's able to go on his rant, "How about we pause, and we can tell whoever we want in the most extravagant, Joseph Burrow way possible?" He snorts at that, pulling his face away from his place against your shoulder, muffling some form of agreement against your lips, then your jaw, neck, and clavicle, and lowering himself to his knees.

For a moment he looks up at you, "Sorry if I scared you with my response, I don't usually know what to say in times like this and my brain went into shock mode."

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x you #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow oneshot #joe burrow blurb #nfl fan fic

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 5 months

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Hello!! I'm new to this blog (been stalking your posts for an hour now and your content is so goooood) and new to the entire asking and stuff but I saw you have like little snippets of commenting on stuff and all or answering little things people send you and I wanted to put my two cents in because the way you write Shanks Mihawk and Sanji has me weakkkk

I really love the idea of a silent language between them and their lovers. Like especially Mihawk because both Sanji and Shanks are loud and proud but like the kind of silent language where you can understand a 'take me out of here' or 'please don't react to this idiot' or a 'omg did you see that puppy it's so cute' kind of thing with just your eyes or some touches a certain way in the arm or smth I don't know I'm so weak for these men and I love your writing of them okay byeee

Ahem:

(been stalking your posts for an hour now and your content is so goooood)

First of all, may I just say the following:

Thank you so so so so so much!! I'm incredibly glad and grateful that you've enjoyed everything. This whole blog is really just a mess of simping and shitposting lately. And it has also been my personal venting space. And given my life as of the late has been some unholy conglomeration of a shitshow, a soap opera, and a dumpster fire (a ShitFire DumpsterOpera Show, if you will), I remain wholly astounded on a day to day basis that anyone at all has even remained with me for this long. I've only been on Tumblr for three months myself, since around the end of September.

Aaaaanywho.

I love the silent language idea. Definitely a thing with Mihawk. I can still see it working with Sanji. Definitely not with Shanks though, poor bb couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it.

But basically, as a scenario, Reader is sitting at the bar being hit on by some Random Weirdo and looking for a quick, preferably quiet way out of the situation and tries to silently signal one of them and.....

Reader: *catches eye of S/O* *curt nod toward Weirdo to signify her discomfort*

Sanji: *hurries over* Everything alright, love? *pulls you to his side, glaring pointedly at Weirdo*This prick bothering you?

May or may not dissolve into a fight

Mihawk: *lifts an eyebrow and nods toward his sword at his back* *you quickly shake your head, no need to slice anyone in half today* *he just rolls his eyes a bit, strolls over, and puts himself between you and Weirdo* *and casually leads you away, attracting no further attention*

No fight, you leave without causing any sort of scene at all

Shanks: *catches your eye* *catches Random Weirdo's eye* *literally shouting from the other side other tavern while you cringe and lay your head down on the bar* Hey, jackass! You lay one goddamned hand on her and so help me-"

Full-on barroom-brawl chaos ensues

#asks #shanks #mihawk #sanji #mini headcanon #headcanon #opla #one piece #opla headcanons #one piece heascanons #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #sanji x reader

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brucewaynehater101 · 5 days

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i'm gonna be real idk if your the right person to go for young justice core four headcanons but you give the best replies by far so heres my own idea idea

I was listening to the Roblox Soundfont remix and now the og Gone Angels and now I'm thinking . . .

Tim became Robin to prevent Batman from ceasing to be the symbol of heroism and good he started off as

The symbol that spiraled into destruction of even the self with Jason Todd's death

imagine a world where Red Robin becomes the very thing he swore to destroy with his own death

he dies along with Bart and Kon. Cassie due to this and maybe other factors fucking looses it, Batman post-Jason's death but pre-Tim becoming Robin style

or maybe instead he dies but the rest of the core four lives. either way Cassie still looses it, by herself or with her other teammates

And maybe, just maybe, they get nobody to be the Third Robin to their Batman, no Third Robin to Tim's Second Robin

likely improbably in canon but the idea of Cassie and maybe even Bart and Kon having a villain arc (maybe Black Silence style) is too good of an idea not to share

(Side note; imagine a Gone Angels cover where the survivor(s) sing and for the itallian lyrics in the midway point the deceased sing)

((extra side note: imagine this is what gets Batman and maybe the other Bats to reflect on the time before and after Tim become robin, post Jason's death; seeing their history repeat with Young Justice))

((hell maybe the Justice League realizes as wells))

"you give the best replies by far." Thank you. Sometimes, it takes a bit to reply to asks cause I'm taking a few hours to really answer the prompts/ideas/questions people pose. I also sleep at random times, so apologizes in advance to any asks that take a while!

My image of YJ is a codependent platonic polycule. They are Young Just Us because they didn't receive proper support from their mentors. This is part of why Cassie and Tim fell apart after Kon and Bart died. This is why, in their own weird ways, both of them tried to get a form of Kon back. Tim tried the scientist cloning avenue, and Cassie tried the cult.

If you want Tim's death to inspire Cassie and YJ to go evil, might I suggest Tim sending proof of Bruce being alive in the timestream and then succumbing to his spleen injury (perhaps an infection)? This would create a delicious amount of angst, anger, and mental breakdowns.

Cassie, the only nonretired YJ member alive at the time, didn't believe Tim about Bruce being alive. This was in part due to the cloning stuff but also in part to trusting Nightwing (or Batman at the time). If Tim didn't make it out of that alive, Cassie may be desperate to find anyone to blame but herself for that. She was a kid, she was lost in her own grief, and Tim should have had the support of literally any other hero.

The entire hero community turned against a teenager in his time of need that he resorted to conspiring with the LoA and ended up losing his life. Whether she chooses to be mad about nobody believing him (Tim's possibly a better detective than Bruce and people have revived before, but his evidence at the time was flimsy), she can be very pissed that not a single hero offered to help him. They didn't even need to trust in Tim's decision. They could have just accompanied Tim until the teen gave up or proved himself right. They could have treated it as a grief road trip while Tim found himself.

Anyways, losing the last nonretired YJ member that way may cause her to just snap. The JL was already on thin ice with the YJ for their lack of support to her generation of heroes. Them failing YJ enough that two children died in the field and one died as a direct result of their actions? She would, rightfully, loathe the JL. On top of that, she does already not trust the government for what they did to Secret. If she can't prosecute the JL, she'll become their enemy.

Cassie lost all of her main polycule. She wants revenge.

After Bart and Kon come back, they see how JL left Cassie and what they did to Tim. Cassie is part of their ride or die, and she has been treated so horribly. Tim has died. They obviously join her.

Now, with Bart there to give evil ideas (Bart is the scariest member of YJ and you can't convince me otherwise), YJ is a force to be reckoned with. Maybe some of the other members come out of retirement, maybe not. They would be unstoppable with Tim helping them, but that's the problem. They don't have Tim. Tim isn't there to help them nor hold them back. That's why they became "evil" anyway.

I like to imagine someone, probably Nightwing, screaming at them from across the battlefield. "This isn't what he would have wanted! He became Robin to stop Batman from destroying everything. This is the antithesis of why he became a hero!"

For a split second, YJ would pause. There's merit in those words, after all. Cassie would recover first as she shakes her head. "He became a hero to be the leash to Batman's rage. He's not here now. He's not here to temper our rage, and you did that. You abandoned a child." She plants her feet more firmly and points her sword at Nightwing. "We won't let you do that again."

It's dealers choice on whether YJ win the battle or not. Also, I do believe YJ would be obsessed with trying to bring Tim back. Perhaps some of their evil deeds truly stem from them trying to find ways to bring back Tim. They are incomplete without him just as they were incomplete without Kon or Bart and would be without Cassie.

Now, is Tim actually alive or does he stay dead? Did Ra's revive him using the Pit? Did Ra's lie or misguide the Bats while keeping Tim hostage? Will Tim come back, either after being brainwashed by Ra's or escaping, to find his platonic polycule has officially lost it and turned evil?

#cassie sandsmark #dc comics #dc universe #young justice #young just us #let yj be evil #tim drake #bart allen #kon el superboy #thank you for the ask!!!!#yj can and should take over the world for the greater good

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treysimp · 2 years

Text

Taking A Bath With Them (Part 2)

GN!Reader/TWST Third Year Boys (Cater, Idia, Lilia, Malleus, Rook, Trey, Vil)

Part 1 (Second Years) // Part 2 (This one!) // Part 3 (First Years) // Part 4 (Coming Soon!) Bonus Chapter (Coming Soon!)

Words: 3K

Tags: Reader's body not described, bathing together but no description of nudity or lewd behavior so you can imagine y'all are wearing swimsuits if you want, fluff fluff fluff handsy cute fluff

Want more TWST? Here’s my masterlist!

Cater Diamond

If you got an ad for it on MagiCam, Cater owns it! His shelves are full of the newest and shiniest self-care products, and Cater follows the routines of the stars to a T! Currently, he is very invested in Vil's skincare line, but he likes you enough to share it. Rest assured that the second you see a sold-out glitter mask, Cater will have it on deck.

While Cater owns a million products he also never has the attention span to use all of them, which is great for you if you wanna snag something and steal it away to your bathroom, he doesn't mind. He's got everything in every color anyway, not to mention some of the free products he gets from people hoping for a shoutout on MagiCam. This also means that there are a million tee shirts of random brands up for grabs too, so if you and Cater wear close to the same size of anything, you can share.

When you two do get time to take a bath together, expect that it will be long and come with a whole spa day attached. Cater is a pretty handsy bathing partner, and while sometimes it is flirty and smooth, other times he is ticking you within an inch of your life. If you're a naturally ticklish person, he might not even be doing this on purpose. The sweet boy may offer to help wash and pumice your feet and ends up getting kicked in the throat. 'It was funny' he croaks through his poor crushed windpipe. Maybe he'll have to tie you down next time. He keeps that thought to himself though.

It's not easy to make time for it, but being able to do each other's hair, paint your nails (you choose the colors for each other, of course), and mess around with all sorts of gizmos and gadgets makes you feel like a little kid at a sleepover. Speaking of sleepovers, since this is a whole-day affair, expect to be having one. I hope you brought pajamas! (Or you could always steal one of those shirts).

Once you are both pampered and put together, expect a long cuddle sesh in your cuddly-soft bathrobes while scrolling through your phones and pausing to give each other a smooch or show off an 'omg have you seen this?' kind of post.

Idia Shroud

While not one to take baths in general (showers are more efficient, right?) Idia is always interested in learning more about you and what you like, so he will put up with whatever you suggest. Idia usually pulls his hair up and back out of his face when bathing, which is great for you since it allows you to appreciate his exquisite bone structure for once. If you want to style his hair, this is the time he will let you do it. You're a bit partial to how his gorgeous blue locks look in a braid or a messy bun but never expect anything other than a ponytail if Idia is the one in charge of choosing.

While Idia certainly has plenty of waterproof electronics and he would play video games in the bath if you're interested, he will settle for listening to you talk as you wash him down as well. It's hard not to be a little mad that the little introvert has a decent amount of muscle definition, but if you try to ask Idia why that is, he will be too flustered to answer.

If Idia is the one tasked with washing you, it is a little too easy to see his thought process as he tries to do a speed-scrub-100% run of your poor body. His eyes are a bit manic when this happens, and it unsettles you how quickly he goes from a blushing little darling to a back-scrubbing demon. Idia is just nervous though, and he has a habit of falling into familiar patterns when he's stressed. As long as you humor him and just gently tell him that he's allowed to slow down, he will usually realize how over the top he is on his own.

The other option is that you can challenge him to a competition (fastest to wash their hair, fastest to shave, etc) and he will have a blast. Playing to his competitive nature doesn't work in every circumstance, but when it's you he does feel like he has something to prove. Regardless of who 'wins' you will both be laughing and trash-talking with the best of them.

Leona Kingscholar

As you might have guessed, this guy loves a good soak. Leona is one for relaxing things, lavender bath salts, soothing lotions, and getting a little too pruny from overstaying in the water. That isn't to say that you're going to have an easy time getting him in the bath though, as much as he likes them when he is in one.

Washing his hair is a bit depressing as this man has the softest and most gorgeous chestnut hair in the entire world and yet there are actual sticks and leaves stuck in it due to his outdoor naps. You want to shake him, you would kill for your hair to be like his! Despite that, he looks refined and sultry no matter what you do. Regardless, seeing his hair wet and the rest of his gorgeous self sparkling with water like dewdrops on a rose in the early morning is almost sinfully indulgent.

Leona is another one who will probably mess with you with his tail, smacking you without warning on the butt to make you yelp in surprise and then having a smirk on his face for the next hour that never goes away. Despite all of the struggle and sassiness that you have to deal with, getting Leona to be loving is the one thing you will never need to coax out of him. He will actively be complaining about how long the bath is taking while pulling you to his chest for a cuddle. All of Leona's bath products are spicy and warm, and it's hard to keep your eyes open when every bone in your body wants you to just give in to a watery little nap.

If you do happen to fall asleep, surprisingly Leona will be the one to wake up first. It happens so consistently that you wonder if he's been faking it. Leona will pull your tired self out of the bath, towel you off and take you to lounge the rest of the day away in his bed. As much as he complains, seeing your sweet sleeping face makes his day, even if he does have to be a little conniving to make it happen.

Lilia Vanrouge

If you've never dyed hair before you are going to learn! Lilia loves to change his highlights on the reg and while he could get it done somewhere, isn't it just more punk rock to DIY it sometimes? If you're interested in doing your hair in unnatural colors too, Lilia would be thrilled to dye it for you! He will also use magic to change it back if you hate it, but when you ask him if he could have just been dying both of your hair with magic the whole time he will just chuckle mischievously and make a getaway. What a scamp that old man is.

As for the actual bathing, you will also have a hard time getting this man relaxed enough to chill out with you, as he is quite the chatterbox if you manage to get him into the tub. He has more than once floated above said tub playfully challenging you to ‘come and get (him)'. To the surprise of no one, he would float just barely out of your reach and cackle.

Another game that he seems to like to play you have internally named ‘back in my day’, where he tells you a frankly ridiculous story about the past and you try to decide if he is fucking with you or not. Every time you have called bullshit on him though, he comes to you later with undeniable proof that said event happened, so maybe he is messing with you less than you thought.

Lilia bathes rather simply, he soaks in the water leisurely for a bit, cleans himself off, and gets out. There is very little fuss about the process, though he is happy to go along with anything you bring for him. Fun bath products are something he enjoys, but just not on the top of his ‘weird things to collect’ list, that’s what his bedroom is for, not his bathroom.

If you ask Lilia to help you bathe, he will do so with gentle care, taking his time to enjoy every little goosebump on your flesh and count the moles, freckles, or any other distinctive markings you have. It sometimes feels like he’s drawing constellations on your back, thinking of what your body could be saying to him based on the imagined patterns. Said body means a whole lot to him, of course, but your mind is what matters. He gets a bit misty-eyed thinking about it. He’s so lucky, a loving family and the opportunity to love and be loved by someone as once-in-a-lifetime as you are? How truly wonderful.

Malleus Draconia

First things first, Malleus will insist on doing everything himself. He enjoys you trying to take the initiative and help him bathe, and he will certainly allow you, but the second you try to do anything for yourself Malleus will immediately take over. You wouldn’t want to deprive him of the chance of showing his devotion by taking care of you, would you dearest? You only have so much time together, after all. He is very persuasive in this regard, and as soon as you agree you swear that you might go blind from how dazzling his smile is.

Malleus is also one for complimenting you while also telling you what he is doing. ‘I am going to wash your hair now, my dove.’ he will say, gently massaging your scalp with his fingers and scratching the skin delicately with his nails. Nicknames are another thing that is incredibly charming about Malleus’ speech because while there are certainly normal ones in the mix, you have also heard more outdated terms spill from his lips.

One particularly memorable instance was Malleus calling you ‘dollface’, but you would never tell him that his terms of endearment were out of date, they were far too charming.

Seeing Malleus with his hair wet and pushed back is another treat, and seeing the way that his markings crown his head makes you remember just how ethereal his beauty is. You thought that the Briar Valley might be onto something when they thought Malleus worthy of worship.

When you’re done bathing, Malleus will dry both of you with a snap of his fingers, laughing any time that his doing so causes you to jump in surprise. It’s just hard to get used to magic when you don’t have any, you know? Malleus had matching robes made for the two of you, and he will coax you to sit in his lap while he reads a book, stoking your back as you fight the urge to comfortably doze in his embrace.

Malleus will pause every so often to give you a soft kiss on the hair, forehead, cheek, lips, or whatever is closest to him at that moment. It’s his way of making sure that you know he is always thinking of you, even when he’s busy.

Rook Hunt

Good luck trying to catch him long enough to find out. Rook loves taking a bath, and he especially loves seeing you bathe with him, but there is a certain amount of nervousness he has at being exposed with no weapons, so it can take some convincing at times to get him to relax with you. Once he is in the bath, you will never get that fountain of endearments to turn off, even if they start getting weird and less than flattering. ‘Oh ma cherie, you are just like a wounded animal taking its last breath!’, you ask Rook to elaborate, he ignores this request.

Rook seems to enjoy the post-bath routine rather than the bath itself, taking great joy in blowdrying both of your hair and styling them so they look just right. Rook also is a purveyor of fancy foreign lotions, and he will happily bathe you in moisturizer at a moment’s notice.

For the times that Rook is willing to settle down and relax with you, he will almost cry in appreciation if you offer him a massage or any other sort of skinship. While Rook does his utmost to care for himself with the highest ideal of beauty, he deeply craves physical contact and the kind of pampering that only someone you love can provide. He’s surprisingly obedient when this happens, happily moving into different shapes and positions to allow you to better soothe his aching muscles. He will offer you an amazing sensual experience in return, which is very difficult to turn down, given how insistent he is.

Rook feels most at ease once you are both done and back in the comfort of his room. He has dreams of the day that you both might live in the same space, his possessions mixing with yours into the perfect blend of a home that suits you both. Being with you in the dorms would have to do for now, but his heart does skip a beat if you leave something in his room ‘for later', because it’s one baby step closer to being in the shared space that he daydreams of while aiming his bow for the kill.

What a lovely day it will be when he can wake up to your face each morning, kissing you awake with sleepy giggles and a soft embrace.

Trey Clover

Being the practical one that he is, if you want to use anything other than shampoo and soap in the bath you are going to have to provide it yourself. Seeing the way that Trey’s eyes soften when you condition his hair for the first time, or the smile on his lips when you rub lotion into his chapped knuckles is worth the effort though.

He tends to chide you a bit, noting that you’re not taking as good of care of your nails as you should and lecturing you on the best ways to clean your body to not strip it of its natural oils. It sounds like he is admonishing you, but it comes from a place of love and care, I promise. While he knows the ideal ways to maintain your hygiene, it is also obvious that this man exists to pamper others rather than himself.

Trey will volunteer to do anything you ask of him, but when you opt to do things for him he is in absolute heaven. Feeling your touch on his body makes it difficult to still his heartbeat, no matter how long you both have been together, but that is just another reason he loves you, every day feels just as wonderful as the first. Trey melts under your gaze, your touch, and seeing his eyes without his glasses is breathtaking, even if it comes at the cost of him sometimes knocking every product into the tub in search of the soap.

Vil Schoenheit

I hope you are prepared, it’s gonna be a while. Vil has the most extensive list of body care and routines, they fluctuate every third Thursday and fourth Tuesday and he has a spreadsheet to keep track of it all as well.

This is an exaggeration, but not by much. However, Vil is not a hoarder. He will quiz you about your hair and skin and assign customized routines for you to follow. If you don’t follow it, he can tell. If you do follow it, he will glow with pride, lauding himself for his accomplishment. You did all the work of actually doing the routine, but it was his accomplishment. Obviously.

In the bath itself he puppets you around like you had strings attached to your limbs, barking orders to lift one arm, then another, move your leg, don’t move a hair he will be right back! You listened to him, but you were shaking in discomfort by minute three. Upon returning and seeing the earnest effort that you made, Vil did cut you some slack and kiss you on the cheek and tell you that you did a good job. That softness did dissolve rather quickly as he snapped back into a beauty drill instructor, but you appreciated the affection nevertheless.

Once your multi-hour prep is done, you do get a little time to soak together and hold Vil for a fleeting moment of decadent romance. He cuts it short so that neither of you can get pruny, which is sad but he is probably right. There is a post-bath routine as well, and you are nervous to walk on the tile with how slippery your feet are from all the unpronounceable beauty treatments they have been subjected to.

After both of you are done (Vil does not let you touch him, but he does allow you to hand him products, much like a kid handing their parents a wrench in the garage) you are allowed to relax. It is time to wear your embroidered silk robes and lay back with face masks and spa music filtering through Vil’s room. You finally start seeing the tidbits of affection as he holds your hand, kisses your hair, and thanks you for spending all of this time with him.

He treasures you, and he wants you to know that, though he can sometimes be oddly bashful about saying so. Vil will smooth the hair from your face, a look of unmistakable fondness on his face, and plant a perfect kiss on your perfectly exfoliated and moisturized lips. If bliss did exist, this was a part of it, surely.

What did you all think? Should I do the first years to round it out or are y'all happy? Let me know, send me prompts, drool over fictional men with me, beg for smut or whatever!

Love you reader!

Requested tags: @readinganas, @yandere-kou, @daeda21, @sideofblog, @buckketboy, @hxlcyon, @stygianoir, @kxhyuns, @aikochan4859, @kumiko-desu, @destinationdesignation, @ninjas-are-the-shit, @prince-zukohere, @star-gods, @fragmentedstarlight, @sarahyumiko2, @sappyisyourpappy, @sunnyseaside, @twstandsh0ut, @seli-beli12222005, @bunntsu, @rosalie-in-twisted-wonderland, @chopid-lulu, @rebel-faes-writing, @stillserene, @witch-waycult, @fr0llo, @bluesylveon2, @dari-kun, @naniky, @the-mermaid-of-the-stars

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