#some angsty but happy

[ksbbb]

From Now Until Eternity (Thiam)

“Fear haunts you and pain hates.” 

The rain soaks through his hoodie, the material clinging to his skin, reminding him that this day is always dark and dreary. It’s never a day that brings any resemblance of calm or anything remotely close to sunshine.  This day is always in the back of his mind, always waiting to creep up on him again and further remind him of the past, the horror of what he’s done, and the reality of how dark today really is.

“I’ll find you”

It makes sense it would be raining today. That the day would be storming and it would go along with how Theo is feeling and his own emotional turmoil that has taken hold of him little by little.  A disturbance in his otherwise mundane life that he has now. It clings to him, never getting close enough to fully break him, but just enough to get into his head and stew at the back of his mind. 

It haunts him, reminding him that he’s the problem, he’s the one that caused this and if anyone ever pays close enough attention to him and asks why he’s alone on certain days of the year, he will adamantly inform them that they’re mistaken. That can’t be Theo because Theo doesn’t feel, doesn’t hurt. Not like other people. He’d much rather lay in his own self pity today than have anyone around to sour his mood even more than it already is. 

Theo shivers as another gust of wind hits his skin, forcing the hoodie to cling even tighter around him, fully soaked through with rain. He looks out across the bridge, at the raindrops pelting the water below, and it’s almost peaceful. If only it wasn’t ruined by a prior memory and haunted by thoughts of what once was. It has him wanting to laugh, wanting to cry at the realization of who he is, and who he was that is all tied up into his childhood. 

He gets up painfully, his body still sore from sitting for so long in one position and the cold still making his teeth chatter. Theo almost has a fleeting thought of what it must have been like to freeze, but he quickly swallows. The pain is forced back down beneath the surface. He tucks it away for another time and another place. Tucks it away for some other version of him that can handle the monster he turned out to be. 

There’s always a sense of dread in not knowing if things could be different, or if anything could be changed. He wonders if where he is right now would cease to exist? If different choices were made and if Theo had grown up more normal than he did, maybe he wouldn’t still be here. Maybe that’s the real problem. The uncertainty. The curiosity of wanting to explore a different path, a different way, something that he can quantify and try to at least come to terms with. Only he can’t. 

I’ll find you 

Theo makes the long walk back to his truck, still shivering as the wind continues to hit his body and the rain soaks him to the bone. He manages to stop his teeth from chattering but his body still aches from the rain. He can’t complain. It’s the least he deserves for all of this. 

He reaches the truck and slides in, as his phone lights up, flashing Liam’s name across the screen.  Theo adjusts the heat and lets it fill the truck fully before answering the phone. Liam will call back. He never lets him get away with not answering for long and he smiles at the thought of Liam calling again.  It helps to lessen the pain in his chest from the cold, lessen the scattered memories replaying in his head, and the shivering that’s taken hold of him again. 

The heat warms him, but only to a point, only enough to stop the ache in his throat just as his phone starts to vibrate again. 

“Hello.” Theo answers, his voice sounding rough even to his own ears. He’s tired and hasn’t slept in a few days. Mix that with the cold and the terrible day that he’s having, he can’t bring himself to sound any better. 

“Theo!! Everyone is sick or away, and Mason is with Corey checking out UCLA. Even though they already got in. I'm here by myself. “ Liam sighs dramatically and Theo sighs too. 

“Okay. Thanks for the information.” He grunts. Theo takes his hoodie off, letting the wet clothing hit the floor and Theo pauses as Liam is silent on the other end of the line. Probably stewing at his comment, always wanting to get the last word in and argue with him. 

“I’m saying it’s a cold night.” Liam tells Theo. Another shiver makes his way down his spine, and he nods in agreement. 

“Can you come over?” Liam asks, growing quiet on the other end of the line. There is a silence that settles between them.  He’s never asked for Theo to come over because he’s never had to. Theo winds up at the Geyer household on most days and the days that he doesn’t make it over there, he is up listening to Liam over the phone. 

“Why?” Theo turns the heat up higher, plugging his phone into the charger and starting the truck.

“I haven’t heard from you all day. I was worried.” Liam explains. 

“Oh.” Theo whispers, almost not believing what he’s hearing. Someone is worried. Worried about him. His heart almost starts to beat faster at the thought. The thought of knowing Liam’s wondering about him, thinking about him when he’s not around, and something shatters. Soft and slow at first, but it shatters all the same.

“I..sorry.” He says hoarsely, closing his eyes at how he says the word sorry. At the hesitation in his voice from the unfamiliar word that feels strange coming from him, but this is Liam. He’s not anyone and he’s not someone he can ignore. Theo is sorry. 

“It’s okay…just hurry up. I waited to eat this pizza because I figured you would come over while everyone is out of town. So, don’t make me eat this alone.” Liam says gently, almost teasing as Theo swallows down the lump in his throat, the aching that has engulfed him. Engulfed his mind and body. 

Liam waited for him? He’s almost confused, partially touched, along with something else that he can’t put his finger on, but he speeds a little quicker down the highway.  He doesn’t want to keep Liam waiting any longer. Theo is also starving. He lost focus on eating since he had to get here in time before it rained, but that didn’t work out too well. Instead he ended up sitting in the rain anyway. 

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.” Theo agrees and hangs up before he can change his mind. Before he can try to rationalize why he can’t be around anyone today, and why he has no energy to deal with anything or anyone. Except Liam. 

Hold on and I’ll find you. 

“Stay on the line with me?” Liam offers and Theo’s brain nearly short circuits at the softness in Liam’s tone, in the way he can hear him say his name, almost having him yearning to see his face. 

“Sure, I’ll keep you safe.” Theo chuckles, still shivering but it’s not as distracting now.  Liam laughs, helping the drive pass quickly even with the short distance that it already is. Theo doesn’t mind driving. Not when he is going somewhere he likes to be, which isn’t a lot of places, but recently all the places he likes being at happen to have Liam at them too. He won’t unpack what that all means. 

Somehow he finds his way to Liam’s house, even with his chatter about how he’s insulted that he can’t make cookies for Theo before he gets there, because everyone thinks he’s going to set the house on fire. Theo can only nod because all he hears is that Liam wants to make him cookies. Has anyone ever made him cookies? He’s pretty sure they haven’t.

Finally, finally he makes it to the Geyer house. The pain in his chest, all the pressure, finally subsides and the ache lessens somehow. He can breathe again. The soaked clothes he’s wearing, the tears that had stained his cheeks before, are on hold. Theo can move again, or he can at least be distracted for a while.

Theo walks up to the front porch and places his hand on the door handle, just as it opens. 

“Hey….what…Theo.” Liam’s eyes widen, his eyes shining bright, but his face falls into a frown when he takes in the sight of the soaking wet chimera. Theo should have changed. Now he has to find a way to explain himself, but Liam doesn’t say another word. He ushers him in the house and into his living room. 

Liam opens a small closet and takes out more blankets than Theo has seen in a while. Liam frantically throws them towards Theo, still frowning. Theo stands up but can barely get a word in while Liam runs up the stairs and slams drawers. The sound of him slamming things echo throughout the house.  Theo waits for Liam to come back, staring at the pizza on the table and Marvel movies strewn throughout the table. 

Liam comes barreling back down the stairs and stops in front of Theo, barely taking a breath. 

“Okay, I don’t know if this will work, but if it is a little short that’s okay. At least it’s warm.” Liam pants out, handing him some dry clothes. Theo doesn’t say a word, but takes the clothes and finds the nearest bathroom. He’s found it’s best to pick his battles with Liam. They fight and argue about a lot of things, but when Liam has his mind set on something it’s hard to dissuade him. 

Theo quickly changes and heads out of the bathroom and sees Liam sprawled on the couch, with a slice of pizza in his hand and even more blankets beside him. He wonders how many blankets this house must have and shakes his head at Liam. 

“I think this is enough little Alpha.” Theo sits beside Liam, placing the blanket over him and grabbing another blanket before Theo can stop him. Liam drapes a blanket over Theo’s shoulders, tightly wrapping it around him and his frown finally subsides.  

“Today is cold.” Liam hums, leaning back on Theo’s shoulder.  The touch reaches its way down Theo’s spine, warming him to his core.

“I’ll keep you safe too.” Liam smiles, his soft blue eyes radiating warmth, tenderness, and something he has never been familiar with. Not until Liam. 

“Yeah? From what?” Theo smirks at him, still trying to maintain his normal demeanor even in the midst of being this close to another person. His shoulders almost shake from the contact, making it too much and not enough at all. He wants to bolt, wants to stay, and both feelings pulling at him cause him to pull away.

Liam leans back, a little farther away now, but still remains sitting next to him. Theo takes a slice of pizza, taking a bite and trying to get rid of his hunger. Liam remains quiet, taking a slice for himself and holding up different movies for Theo to see. Theo doesn’t care too much about what they watch, but he does pick Spiderman. Something he doesn’t mind and when Liam’s eyes light up, he knows that he has chosen correctly. 

Theo settles back on the couch again, gently brushing his shoulder against Liam’s, testing it out. Liam smiles, leaning back and watching the movie. Time seems to fade away as Theo gets lost in the movie, the warmth of the blankets, and Liam firmly leaning against him. The contact is settling the ache in his chest. Until it is no longer there. 

“Theo?” Liam whispers, barely audible but it’s there.  He turns and looks at Liam, his face clouded with worry and it pains Theo to see Liam’s face filled with such anguish. He raises his eyebrows at him in question, wanting to settle Liam’s doubt, and trying to understand what he is feeling. 

“You know I could have come with you right?” Liam tenses up beside him. 

“What? Where?” Theo rolls his eyes, smiling back at Liam to ease his worry.

“I know what day it is. I remember. I remember most things about you. So I can keep you safe. So we can keep each other safe.” Liam presses into his side tighter, and his hand finds Theo’s. The gentleness of the touch on his hand eases his nerves. 

“Will you stay?” Liam sits up, gently running his palms over Theo’s shoulders, and moving the blanket tighter around him. 

“For how long?” Theo asks, almost unsure of what the impact will be depending on how he answers Liam. 

“From now until…eternity.” Liam winks at him, a soft smile playing on his lips. “But we can start with tonight.” 

Theo nods, his body warm, his hunger pains soothed, and tonight is fine. He can handle one night. Especially when Liam runs his fingers over his palm, and he can breath again.

[cheesecakethots]

i LIVE for the angst of a yandere initially being fucking awful to their darling after taking them, and overtime changing and becoming more loving, as well has having newfound and immense regret for what they’ve done. it is literally my fave yan scenario.

tw // pretty heavy angst, mentions of noncon

i specifically imagine it for shigaraki, going from being this disgusting manbaby who treats his darling like they’re nothing but a toy for him to use, only to later realise how much he loves them and mature in how he treats them, making his regret for the past even stronger.

him trying to coax his darling into coming out on a date with him - they can go anywhere, he doesn’t mind, darling has free reign to choose what they do. he tries to be so soft and quiet in his tone, as though not to startle them.

it’s only when tears start forming in their eyes and they mumble, “have i been bad?” that he realises how badly his past self fucked up.

the only other time he really took them out was when he’d decided they needed a punishment, and had made them stand and watch as he disintegrated the first group of people they saw out. he had then fucked them against the alleyway wall, bodies still around them both, just to really get the point across.

he wishes he could take back everything, but he can’t. as of now, he needs to take baby steps in order to bring you out of the very same hole he once caved into your mind.

(i love regretful yans urm send me some thots about them pretty please)

[the-triggered-lizard]

Abandoned, as always.

Closeup:

(Click for better quality, because Tumblr is quality crusher #1)

A reference to @caitlynnrosespn post about Jack crying during the events of tainted love. That shit broke me, so naturally, I break him even more.

[boiiko]

﹄ I’m not sure I made this chaotic enough. ﹃

@zukkaweek  day 4 : College High School AU

inspired by @p3nnyl4ne​‘s soft, kaleidoscopic story High Tide 💜

Happy pride y’all.

☻

[ID: Two drawings in very saturated, neon-like colors, drawn in rough, textured lines and scribbles. In the first, Zuko is jumping high over Sokka on a skate, the latter sitting crouched at the bottom of some cracked-up stairs, eyes squeezed shut and screaming for his life, with his arms over his head. Zuko’s hair is flying and his tattooed arms are out for balance, tongue poking out in cheeky concentration. In the second, Zuko holds Sokka piggy-back while balancing the both of them on his skate. They are both looking down, with Zuko’s hair hanging in his face and Sokka hooking his chin over his shoulder. Their mouths are open in a laughing argument. In both drawings, they are wearing modern attire, Zuko with his ripped jeans and t-shirts, Sokka with shorts and first a tank top and then a soft hoodie. Both wear sneakers, and one of Sokka is perpetually untied. The artist’s signature reads BOIIKO by the side of the frame.]

[buqbite]

A bit of softness for once

[natelia-aldelliz]

"I can't call Soap 'Johnny'," Alejandro grunts, an obvious smile in his voice.

"Don't," Soap answers immediately. "Only Ghost can pull that off."

Roach lifts an eyebrow. "And what am I supposed to call you then? Johnuald the third?"

Soap snorts, quietly enough that the others don't hear him, and sends him a look. Even in the dark, it's very obvious how much of a sunshine he is, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

Damn, Roach had never fallen for someone this fast before. Even with Simon, it had taken a few months. But for some reason, Johnny is so precious to him that he'd die - again - for him in a heartbeat.

"Jonathon? Jonah? Johnson? Johntay? I can keep going, I already had that conversation with Price years ago, and I had the internet back then. I had a pretty long list and I remember most of it."

"Cannae ye make yerself useful instead of bein a nuisance?" Soap whispers with a smile after quickly checking around that no one was paying him attention.

Roach gasps. "But being a nuisance is my true calling! You could say I like 'bugging' people, huh, get it, get it?" He beams when Soap shakes his head at him and goes through the wall.

The shadows are crawling outside, of course. He roams around, getting a rough headcount, then gets back at Soap with all the information. It's doable, honestly. Especially since Simon and him rigged several cars with explosives.

He is still a bit worried though, about Johnny's wound. He's not sure how it's possible, how he's still standing, but then again, he's a ghost talking to a living person, so there's that.

Rudy had said that no one except Alejandro can kill Alejandro, and Roach just has to wonder if Johnny got kind of the same deal. But Ale never gave any indication that he was seeing the burning person floating above his new friends, so maybe it's not the same.

With the clear intel he gives Soap, they make quick work of the Shadows and Price picks them up at the wall. If he was able to actually haunt people and not just follow them around uselessly, he'd stop haunting the Captain immediately as a thanks.

Because he's pretty sure Johnny actually needs some intense medical attention. He said that it didn't feel different than a leg or shoulder wound, but those definitely need more than just stitches and painkillers anyway.

It's very heartwarming, watching Soap greet the rest of the team with a puppyish energy, and he has to admit that it is kind of funny seeing Gaz and Price's faces when they notice the bullet hole in the front of his shirt.

The sight of Simon helping Johnny move along with a hand on the small of his back leaves him with mixed feelings.

There's the "I knew it!! I told you so!!" that he was expecting, of course, because he's always right and he did know it would happen. But there's also a pinch in his chest that he hadn't really expected. It's a feeling that he hadn't really felt since a really long time, since he was a teenager, probably.

Jealousy.

He hates it, he's always hated it. But the worst is he doesn't even know who he's jealous of. Perhaps he's finally remembering that he's dead and they're not, that all this flirting he's been doing with Johnny wouldn't have led to anything.

The grown arse sunshine of a man turns his head back, looking slightly confused, looking for him. When his eyes land on him, he beams so hard that it actually illuminates his whole face and Roach can't do anything except gravitate towards him like a moth to a light.

Wrong bug, he snorts internally.

"What's with you, smiley face?" he hears Simon ask when he gets closer.

Johnny is still looking straight at him, his smile getting softer. "Nothing," he answers, his gaze burning Roach more than the fire had. "Just glad you're here and glad we're leaving."

[wolffdeservedbetter]

[calciumdreams]

injury - memories

[spooksicl-e]

he stabs it.

[zensations35]

Watch My Back (Haz/bin)

WELP I didn't think I'd be whumping the short king before my deer boi but HERE WE ARE. I blame @instarsandcrime for my newfound simping after this absolute disaster of a man 🥵🥵🥵 and this got INDULGENT LET ME TELL YOU. Now, enjoy this fic based on a prompt by my aforementioned friend, where Alastor plays bodyguard to Lucifer and finds out Mr. Silly has a holy wound (and then unFoRtuNatELy gets whumped by the author). ;)

“Must I?” 

Charlie gazes dolefully up at the Radio Demon, hands clasped in what some people (not Alastor of course) would call prayer. 

“Pleeeease, Alastor?” she begs. She doesn’t ask for a lot, but this request seems…well. Strange. Really? A bodyguard for her father? Fathomless.

He sighs, bandwidth crackling. “Very well, though I really don’t see the necessity for it. Your father is quite capable of taking care of himself, you know.”

Behind them, Lucifer picks up a glass trinket between two sharp fingers to examine it, his mouth crooked and casual. As if connected to it by a wire, Niffty’s crimson hair stands on end. She all but teleports to Lucifer, startling him so suddenly, he drops the trinket, shattering it so it’s shards fan across the hard floor. 

“Noooo!” Niffty bursts into tears, her tiny arms scrabbling to scoop up the pieces. “My new boyfriend got me that!” she wails. 

Alastor hums. “On second thought, perhaps he could no sooner care for himself than tie his own shoelaces.”

Charlie resists the urge to smack him. “Alastor, you have to be nice.” 

“Mm~ I’ve already agreed to help you. Let’s not push the limits of my capabilities.” 

Charlie hurries off to give the news to her father while Alastor swaggers toward an empty table propped flush against a wall. Niffty hadn’t finished decorating this one, but Alastor has quite the idea for it anyway. He was just fluffing the long white petals when the pouting visionary of Hell stomps over.

His gaze crawls over the perennial plant and he scowls harder. “What are these?”

“Lilies! Aren’t they swell? I thought you’d appreciate some charm during your stay, oh esteemed one,” Alastor’s voice is sticky with sarcasm.

Lucifer scowls at the sadistically named plant. He sucks on his lips and Alastor suppresses a chuckle. 

“Are you displeased, sir?” 

“Hm, what?” Lucifer blinks out of his wayward thought. “No, of course not,” he thumps his cane on the plush carpet. “Do whatever. I don’t c--hiih!” 

Lucifer jerks away, eyes pinched. He dips down with a strange, “IkPFShw!” The jerk of his limbs strikes a bronze anteater figurine and, again, sends the trinket crashing to the floor to break into pieces. 

“NOOO!” Niffty screeches, flying to its rescue. “My other boyfriend made that for me!” 

Lucifer’s fingers squeeze his moist cheeks and he sniffles thickly. “I…I do apologize, little one. I--”

She rears back and kicks him in the ankle. “You’re the wrong kind of bad boy!”

Lucifer grunts as she skitters away with the pieces tucked into the balloon of her apron.

Alastor smothers a snicker at his expense, antlers lengthening just a tick. 

“Well,” Lucifer draws the word out, adjusting his crooked bowtie, ignoring the flush in his own cheeks. “I have errands to run--”

Charlie suddenly appears in the doorway as if the word ‘errands’ manifested her. 

“You’re leaving?”

Lucifer’s lip forms a triangular frown. “I, uh,” his cheek feathers, “Sweetie, I have to make appearances now that I’m not…”

“Self isolating for years on end, with only negative self talk as your social activity, and trying to get through it by throwing yourself whole ass into repetitive passion projects that seem fulfilling at the time but end up not meeting your expectations just like your own self image?” Angel calls from the bar.

Everyone stares at the puffy porn star. Husk rolls up a newspaper and smacks him hard upside the head. 

“Ow!” 

Lucifer scratches his jaw anxiously. “Uh, yeah. That.” 

Charlie masks her disappointment with a glimmering smile. “Well! I’m sure that will be a great bonding exercise for you and Alastor!”

The two men exchange wilted looks. 

“Sshhhhhure sweetie!” Lucifer faux beams. He straightens his tophat and pats his thigh at Alastor as if coaxing a dog. “Come on attendant. Pip pip!” 

Alastor’s teeth grind, smoke trailing as he follows behind the shorter King. 

“Have fun!” Charlie waves her whole arm after them, fangs flashing in her winning smile. “Make good choices!!”

The bar Lucifer goes to is on the edge of the pentagram. The outside is brown brick partially crumbling but held together with thick, gristly magic. A scarred bouncer with gills and an oval mouth allows them in without a word.

Inside, the music is surprisingly tolerable. No thumps and booms, no bleats and drops like clubs Vox would have dragged Alastor to.

It’s…refreshing.

Lucifer makes a beeline for a corner clear of furniture but thick with an assortment of hellborn rulers and a few overlords. He must be making those appearances…

To Alastor’s right, a sinner catches his eye. A silver-haired demon with long rabbit ears and a plaited braid. Her features are guarded and soft with youth. She holds an empty glass, bone dry. A purple nail taps the rim, her eyes fixed on the bottom but not really seeing it.

Alastor pauses at the young woman, fingers curling tightly around his cane. The youth’s dull eyes flick to his and her soul bares for a fleeting moment. 

Fear. Abuse. Mangled by hands more powerful and more able-bodied than she. 

Alastor feels his blood ignite, his fangs sharpen with desire for vengeance. 

The youth flinches, reacting to Alastor’s anger, not knowing the cause.

A faraway sound skirts the edge of his rage, strangely familiar, a twisting of lips and grating throat.

The sound snaps Alastor’s rage into shards and he blinks himself back into the noise around him. He circles toward the bar, moseying his way through the greasy crowd and leans in to hum statickly at the barkeep. 

“Serve that young woman anything she wishes,” he gestures to the silver haired sinner. 

The barkeep grunts, “She's gonna wait her turn.”

The Radio Demon growls, his height and timbre climbing several inches. “Apologies…I was not clear.” His claws cut jagged lines into the wooden counter. “I meant Ń̷̤̫̎̄̽͆̈̏͐͜O̶̭͂̃͑̚W̶̧̡͙͍̊́͆̾̚͠” 

The barkeep swallows and nods. And moves to obey. 

Now, where the fuck is his highness?

Lucifer has buried himself in the cloud of sinners and hellborn. Alastor doesn’t recognize some of them. He doesn’t move in those circles--not for lack of trying. 

They’re chittering away like warbling fowls. 

‘So and so! Good to see you!’ 

‘It’s been too long!’ 

‘How are things on your side of the pit?; 

‘Still tormenting in the ancient methods?’  

‘Have you seen the big guy in charge?’

‘Oh he’s still jacking off to his thunderbolts AH HAH HAAA’

Dreadfully boring.

One of the more vibrant hellborn cracks a joke and Lucifer tosses his head back in laughter. It sounds fake as fuck. 

Something slips under Alastor’s foot, giving him pause. It’s the scent--something venerated and familiar...

He looks down and sees a spatter of gold dotting the grimy tile, with a larger puddle at the tip of his shoe. 

Curious, Alastor taps his cane to the floor, leveraging himself so he can kneel. He bends low enough to dip a claw over the silken, rippling surface. 

As soon as his skin warms with the liquid, his nerves purr. The buzz tingles up his body and he shivers violently.

His throat crackles, “Hvv٨ﮩSH٨ـﮩZh!” 

Smoke mists from him and he wrenches away from the puddle, wiping his hand on the end of his coat. Hmph. A strange enigma…

His ears twitch, picking up another trill of laughter from the gaggle surrounding Lucifer. How long is he going to put up this farce?

Alastor watches the king of Hell intently and recognizes uneasiness in his firelit eyes. Definitely a veneer, batting away personal inquiries and distracting with jokes or redirecting by asking after the speaker. 

Oh, clever bitch he thinks he is. Alastor sees right through him. The Radio Demon hones in on the audio, intent now on eavesdropping. 

“...majesty,” a thatchy demon gurgles, boisterously laughing along with a large forked claw grasping his square belly. “How’s the wife?”

Lucifer’s smile slips, brief, and the gleam in his eyes dim. “Oh, fine, fine. Beautiful as ever, of course. And how is your partner? Are you still dating the Y2K virus?”

The square demon barks a laugh. “Oh, no no no. We broke up ages ago. Toxic as fuck. Noooo, I’m dating Vine now. You wouldn’t believe the cosplay sex--”

Lucifer slaps his chest and gasps. “Vine died??” 

Alastor groans. What the fuck are they talking about?

Lucifer suddenly makes a jerking motion, mirrored by a violent squeak. Alastor’s heart races when he sees the King wince and bend in what looks to be a pained twist. 

Fuck! Is he actually being attacked? Alastor vanishes in a cloud of spindly shadow, reappearing next to Lucifer and spurring shocked gasps from a few of the rulers in the group. 

“Your highness,” the Radio Demon titters, with as much respect as he can fucking muster.

“H-hgxPST!” Lucifer’s raspy sneeze bursts into a squeezed fist, startling Alastor, who hesitates his next sentence. 

Was he wrong? Did he overreact and now he came to Lucifer’s rescue over…a fucking sneeze? Rrrgh. Shame sharpens his claws around his microphone and anger shortly follows. How does this asshole even sneeze without a nose??

Lucifer scrubs his face with his palm and lets out a ridiculous whoop. 

“Hooo! Sorry about that! Didn’t mean to scare ya, buddy,” he jabs Alastor with his elbow as if they were best friends. Alastor’s teeth powder with the effort of restraint. 

“No worries your hig̵͐h̶̘̕n̴̡̕e̴s̵͛٨ـs.” his smile climbs nearly into his eyes. “I am here to serve.” He hooks his arm under Lucifer’s, linking elbows so the King cannot escape and dragging him away, ignoring the startled protests of the shorter man.

Alastor stops when he arrives at the golden droplets and releases Lucifer before tapping his cane on the floor. “Have you seen this?” he asks, cracking his neck to the side inquisitively.

Lucifer rubs his finger over his chin and hrms. 

“Ah, well,” he shrugs, barely looking at Alastor, “Someone must have spilled ambrosia I suppose.”

Alastor’s brows shoot up. “Ambrosia? What, may I ask, is that?”

He didn’t think it was possible for someone so ceramically pale to whiten further, but Lucifer seems to do just that. “Ahhhmmm, nevermind…” Lucifer’s fingers brush the hem of his suit and his face crimps. He clears his throat and slithers away.  

“Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Alastor scoffs. Even if he might have been wrong about the sneeze, there’s a chance he isn’t. And his gut is telling him something’s amiss. He’s not about to let this asshole swan off alone. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I was charged with your care, your grace. I have a duty, you see~”

Lucifer’s eyebrow twitches, annoyance painting his face with a flush. “I assure you, I can use the fucking restroom by myself,” he gives a fangy smirk.

“In a dump like this?”

“Alastor, leave me the fuck. Alone.”

Before Alastor can press further, Lucifer does indeed swan off. The door to the restroom clips shut, separating him from the King.

What a dramatic wretch. Well, a door won’t stop a demon. A clattering rap with the back of Alastor’s hand causes a thump from within followed by a vexed, “Occupied!”

“Obviously. Yet I am entering regardless.” Alastor grips the warm knob. It rattles, hinges reisting as Lucifer’s protests grow increasingly less convincing.

“I’m--hhh! I’m fi--Ihh! Hii! XSH! Ehk’SHHh-HieWW!” 

Yeah fucking right. Alastor better fucking get in there or Charlie will have a field day with rainbow sprinkles. 

A flurry of sound, thudding and grunts of…is he in pain? God dammit! Miserablefuckingcocksuckingpieceof--

Finally the door wrenches open. Alastor wades inside and a wash of humid air hits his skin, making him cringe. Lucifer is bent over the white marble sink, heaps of tan paper towels littering the counter, some having fluttered around his feet dark and anointed with a glittering substance.

His face is currently wrapped in the crook of his elbow and his shoulders shudder with heaving breaths, “IX’SHWW! HF’pSHW!” His sleeve absorbs most of the sound but it still sounds truly dreadful, “Nghh…” 

Alastor grumbles disapprovingly, “I am starting to suspect you’re lying, sir.”  

Lucifer’s hat lies to the side, top down and limp, as well as his cane. A clawed hand grips the sawed edge of the counter, the King holding himself steady as he shakes with the effort of his labored breaths. 

“I told you,” his voice is low and serious now, no hint of his playful kinder. “To stay. Out.” Something drips on the tile next to him. The same liquid Alastor saw before--raw, angelic blood.

“So you did take a blade.”

Lucifer growls, moving his hand to cover the wound, but all he ends up doing is smearing his clothes slick with the gleaming fluid.

Alastor tuts, “You should have told me, you know.” He sets his cane against the wall and moves closer to Lucifer, stretching his arm out toward the injured side.

Lucifer lashes out, grasping his wrist with his free hand, “Don’t.” 

The Radio Demon pauses, staring into his haunted eyes. 

“The blood will…affect you.”

“A-hah! You think I care?”

“I think you put yourself first. I think you’d love to see me wither here if it keeps your pompous ass safe.”

Alastor grimaces and yanks away from his weak grasp. In an electric snap, Lucifer’s shirt is bunched in his fist and he is pulling the King in close. He speaks in static, voice measured and quicksilver cruel. 

“Your assumption that I have an agenda would be correct, m̴y̶ ̷͋K̸i̴ng̶̈͗. And it does not involve you dying.” 

Lucifer’s chest inflates but he doesn’t retaliate. 

Alastor releases Lucifer, features retracting with his mood. “Now, let’s see this wound.” 

“There’s nothing you can do for it,” Lucifer mutters as he painfully shirks his jacket.

“Your capacity for being misguided is astounding,” Alastor drums his fingers on the counter, claws clacking. “Show me.”

The jacket falls to the floor and the wound is fully revealed: twin slashes crisscrossing his side, a glossy expanse of wounds just below his left rib.

“And these wounds cause you to…?”

Lucifer massages the circle of his cheek with a sigh, “I’m just…not handling it well.”

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“Not…not so much--I--” his face falls and air corckscrews through his teeth, “Ng-Eh’KPSH!! EiiSHH-iieuww!” 

His wound flares bright with the gilded liquid and Alastor seals his lids against the blinding light.

“Alright,” Alastor moves closer, positioning himself to spread his hands above the slit of seeping light. Lucifer watches with interest as the Radio Demon’s eyes gleam black like the shells of tiny beetles. Runes pop and fizzle over the glowing shreds.

Lucifer’s eyes widen as he watches the runes morph and vellicate. “What magic--”

“Quiet.” 

“But, those runes. I know--”

“I said silence٨ـ.” 

“No, Alastor. Where the fuck--”

Alastor wrenches back, magic dissipating, but his eyes remain inky with rage. His fist slams against the wall, cracking a line in the frail plaster. “You and I both know your idiot act is just that! An act. You know exactly what I can do, so stay still and quit prattling.”

The lilies. 

Lucifer’s lips guppy open and closed. “Your deal. It was…”

Alastor grunts, frustration rippling the bandwidth of his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t want to be healed.”

He pushes his own sleeves up to the bend of his elbows, anchoring them to his forearms. Then, he pinches the hem of his pinstripe coat and tears it in a full around strip. His pupils float toward the King’s body, hesitant. Static clings to the air as he nears the wound. 

Lucifer flinches instinctively. “I’m warning you, it will--”

“Affect me, yes yes. I’ve touched angel blood before.”

“I’m an archangel, Alastor.”

 Alastor rolls his eyes. Will he just shut the fuck up already?

The Radio Demon presses the cloth against the holy wound, adhering it instantly. Lucifer’s skin is hot like a freshly lit fire. Alastor feels the effect of the pale poison straightaway. He clamps his jaw, brow creasing as his skin beads with sweat. 

Lucifer winces, claws carving slits into the counter. As Alastor works the strip around his midsection, his teeth grind against the shudders of breath battling in his throat. 

“Your hands are shaking.” 

“Shut ũ̷̼͆̇͑̈̄́́̏̉̚̕͝͝ͅp̴̰̪͎̲̲̗͎͝. Alastor’s voice crackles.

Lucifer's lip wobbles. “Hvvv-nn!” a hiss of indrawn air. 

“Don’t do that now.” 

“It’s not my hhhih choice!” 

“Can’t you just--”

“He-eih KSHHieeψ!” The filaments buzz within the light bulbs, flickering them into darkness and then back into squinting light. As Lucifer wracks forward, it jostles Alastor’s hands and breaches his careful conservation, smearing his wrists with gold. 

He dips back, chin tilting as his throat buzzes with a snap of energy. “Hhh--ehhh-HH!” 

“Dammit, Alastor--”

“Too late--hhh-for tha-HH٨ـZZT٨ـY!” He pushed his fist to his nose, using pressure against the damp rim of his nostrils to chase away the itch. Not to any measure of success. “HK! ﮩ٨ـﮩZZ!” A wail grates in Lucifer’s ear and he recoils. 

“You’re making it worse,” Lucifer twists with a grunt, grabbing some of the towels to clean Alastor’s cheek. 

“I don’t--hih-nn eed…”

“Heaven alive can we both stop with this cocky bullshit. Truce, okay? Or would you rather spend all day in here sneezing with me?”

R̷͕̪̤̈́̓r̸̳̻̕͠rg̵̡̞͊̔͝ẖ̷͉͋̐jh̵̜͇̦͐̉  Alastor saws at his face, each motion crackling with energy. “Very well, get it over hhhhﮩ٨ـﮩ-! With.” 

Lucifer works with the towels to wipe away the smears while Alastor finishes knotting the makeshift bandage. Once they’re done they both pull back with twin sniffles and a bucket of awkwardness in the empty air.

Alastor shunts his gaze, ignoring the gnawing in his chest. Lucifer cleans up the scattered flaxen towels and starts burning them until their ashes film the ground. The scent of honey and seeded mulch fills the room, like no bonfire Alastor had ever attended.

Four papers remaining, Lucifer finally speaks.

“How do the humans handle it?”

Alastor knits his brow. “Handle what?”

“Losing. Over and over.”

Alastor’s lips press firm. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Lucifer finally looks at him then, his mouth a small circle. He doesn’t pursue. He flicks the last of the ash off his fingers and sucks in a breath. 

“Well,” his orange eyes meet the Radio Demon’s, “shall we head back? Tell Charlie we had a…bonding exercise?”

Alastor laughs. It’s more real than he’d laughed in…ages. “Details aside?”

Lucifer offers a genuine, if modest smile. “Agreed.”

[afewproblems]

A Clear and Present Threat of Tongue

Sooooo this idea shook me like a rag doll and wouldn't let me go until I got it all out, this is a Steddie Stranger Things New Girl AU taking place during the first kiss episode between Jess and Nick. But its waaay longer and more angsty than I anticipated. So.

Enjoy!

It’s all Gareth's fault in hindsight. 

As his best friend and confidant, Gareth really should have taken Eddie’s feelings into account when he suggested a party out loud in front of everyone.

Not that the party was a particularly bad idea, parties had been prime money making opportunities in the years before - although that had certainly dwindled, what with the murder accusations and earthquakes. 

And Eddie was trying to make it a point of avoiding dealing around the kids or Hoppers disapproving glare.

So no, it wasn't so much the party.

Steve had taken it upon himself to host, as per usual, and everyone had been invited. The gremlins, Nancy and Jonathan, Argyle, Gareth, Jeff, and Robin of course without question. Gareth brought Megan Walsh with him while Robin brought another underclassman, Vickie something, she seemed cool - a little quiet for Eddie's taste but that wouldn’t be the only reason she didn’t do it for him.

Nah, Eddie was looking for something a little taller, louder, with big brown eyes and plush pink lips he wanted to sink his teeth into and an ass that wouldn’t quit even if he begged. 

And Eddie didn’t beg.

It was an end of summer pool party that had extended beyond the warm sunshine and moved into the main house when the last few rays had swapped for the cool twilight of the evening. 

There had been no shortage of food and drinks and a few tokes in the garage from the decent Cali strain Argyle had brought with him. The kids had gone to bed one by one leaving the rest of them to move down to the basement as Steve had put it, ‘to keep the noise to a minimum while the little shits sleep’.

The combination of weed and beer had them floating in the sweet-spot, not that everyone had partaken - Argyle and Jonathan stuck to weed only while the girls nursed their beers.

Eddie, Gareth and Jeff were the only three that were on the floor and feeling alright by the time midnight had rolled around. 

“We should play a game,” Gareth says, blurting out the words from his place on the floor, he’s grinning a little with glazed eyes and wild hair splayed around his head like a halo.

And this, this should have been Eddie’s first warning. 

Now Uncle Wayne had a great rule, a fantastic rule, ‘Nothing good ever happens after midnight kiddo, remember that’.

Eddie should have listened to the old man.

Jeff hums lightly from the floor and Megan perks up at the idea, shifting up to the edge of the couch, trying to catch Gareth's glazed eyes.

"What kind of game?" She says, her voice lilting and curious, Eddie smirks and elbows Gareth in the side.

Gareth huffs out a groan at the contact and rolls slightly to level a glare at the metal-head, Eddie raises his eyebrows and darts his eyes from Gareth to Megan before raising a single eyebrow. 

Go for it man! 

Gareth cocks his head, a confused expression pulling at his brow as his red eyes pan from Eddie to the other side of the room and back again. 

Nowhere near Megan.

Just as Eddie makes to turn to wherever Gareth is looking, a small grin blooms on his best friend's otherwise lax face, the bassist sits up with a groan and shakes out his own wild mane of curls.

"Truth or Dare?"

"Choice game brochacho," Argyle laughs from the loveseat he's laid out across, Jonathan nods with his eyes closed. Everyone seems pleased with the situation if the chorus of 'sure's', and  'sounds good,' is anything to go by. 

Even Steve - who Eddie can’t help but notice has also stuck to beer most of the night and seems slightly tipsy as he wanders over from the far side of the room and drops onto the floor beside him. 

Steve says a quiet, 'cool,' as he brings his one knee up to his chest to lean on.

He smells of spice and pine tonight and Eddie fights the urge to curl against him.

Nancy volunteers to go first and picks dare, surprising everyone except for Jonathan and Steve, who laugh as Robin stumbles her way through crafting the perfect task for Nancy to perform.

Vickie whispers into Robin’s ear which elicits a delicate blush that settles over Robin’s cheeks and ears as she settles back against the couch with a soft smile.

“We dare you to do a cartwheel!” Robin crows, laying out her palm towards Vickie who immediately gives her an unapologetic high-five, Eddie rolls his eyes and nudges Steve beside him. 

“I expected better than that coming from Buckley,” he says just slightly over a whisper level if the death glare Robin shoots at him is any indication, Steve snorts and takes another sip of his drink.

“She’s just warming up Munson, you better watch out or you’ll paint a target on your back,” Steve stage whispers back, winking as he turns his attention to Nancy who has cleared a pathway next to their little circle to attempt her cartwheel. 

Eddie swallows and tries to fight down the blush that threatens to creep over his face. 

Fuck. He is so unfairly pretty. 

Steve's hair is remarkably untidy this evening, and his ears are slightly pink from the alcohol, and his stupid perfect jawline makes Eddie want to bite something - preferably Steve. 

He’s wearing one of his little polo’s, a light yellow number that accentuates his bright brown eyes and the dotting of moles and freckles dappling his face. 

Oh yeah, Eddie’s a goner. 

Nancy manages to half somersault and land on all fours before jumping to her feet in an Olympic pose that draws a mix of laughter and applause from the group. Eddie watches as Steve puts down his drink and politely claps as he smiles indulgently at Nancy, Eddie frowns slightly as he tamps down a flicker of jealousy that builds in his chest. 

He misses Robin stand up and stride towards Nancy before leaning in to whisper in her ear with a predatory grin. Nancy’s eyes drift from Robin to Eddie and back again, she nods once and turns back to the group, her facial expression betraying nothing. 

“Oh dude, you’re in for it now,” Steve murmurs to Eddie as Nancy and Robin resume their seats in the circle.

“What?” Eddie says as Nancy clears her throat and smiles at him, it's cutthroat and shark-like and Eddie is suddenly reminded why he’s always found Nancy intimidating.

“Eddie, truth or dare?” Nancy says in a silky voice, Jonathan seems to freeze at the tone and attempts to catch his eye, shaking his head like a mad-man and slicing a finger across his throat again and again, while Steve laughs softly beside him.

“Uh, Pft, Dare Wheeler,” Eddie says with a scoff and a wide grin, he stands up and starts stretching his arms across his chest, before cracking his neck and shaking out his shoulders, “just need to loosen up first here,” he claps his hands together, “okay what sort of gymnastics you got for me miss Nancy?”

Jonathan smacks his face into his hand in the corner while Robin giggles to Vickie, Eddie catches a few muttered words, but nothing concrete. Judging from the red face and ‘O’ shaped mouth that Vickie sends his way, it's definitely not good. 

Nancy clears her throat and waves her hand to catch his attention again, “eyes this way Munson,” she says slyly, and Eddie is suddenly sweating. 

“Eddie Munson, I dare you to take the person sitting closest to you into the spare bedroom for seven minutes in heaven. 

No one says a word for a moment. 

Eddie wishes for the basement floor to open and swallow him whole. He stares at the plush fibers of the rug, wondering if it would be at all possible to smother himself by pushing his face into the carpet. 

He absolutely refuses to look at Steve. 

The only person sitting beside him. 

He should have listened to the old man. 

***

Eddie paces the small space again and again, its five steps from wall to wall and it does nothing to ease the tension in the room. He tries to figure out how to tamp down the seemingly permanent flush that has stained his face since the two of them were pushed into the room. 

The door has been unceremoniously slammed shut behind them and a chorus of eight voices chant, ‘Kiss, Kiss, Kiss!’ over and over outside their temporary prison.

Damn Gareth for suggesting this stupid game, damn Nancy and Robin for conspiring against him and damn himself for his ridiculous delusional fantasy. 

Steve Harrington would never want to kiss someone like him, even if he did swing that way.

This was stupid and awful, damn everything.

Steve scoffs from his position on the foot of the bed, startling Eddie slightly.

“What is the big deal,” Steve sounds much more sober, and a lot more tired now that it's just the two of them, “lets just suck it up and french a little?”

Eddie nearly feels himself short-circuit at the words. 

He resists the urge to smack his head into the door and slowly turns on his heel to face Steve. 

His expression is bored, if slightly irritated to be stuck in this situation, but his arms are draped loosely on the bed and his shoulders are relaxed.

Huh. Not nervous then, but there is something else…

Eddie sighs and scrubs a ringed hand across his face, "Okay fine, but don’t say suck it up and french a little--"

"Do not complain to me Munson," Steve grumbles, his voice suddenly tight, "this is your fault. Let’s just do this," he shakes his hands out, Eddie notes the slightest tremor that runs over his left hand but it disappears the longer Eddie's gaze remains on it.

Fuck.

"Okay, okay, no, Steve this is not a big deal," Eddie says, his tone is light but gentle as he crosses over to the bed, he holds out his hands for Steve to take. 

Steve's eyes travel from his hands to Eddie's face, and back again. His expression flickers once before shuttering into the same bored expression from earlier. Steve clasps his hands once and squeezes them briefly before letting go and standing up to face Eddie.

"Right…not a big deal, let's just do it," Steve mumbles as he breathes out, he closes his eyes briefly and Eddie's never been this close before, he can count the freckles on his nose, "just do it Eds".

Oh god, oh god, he’s about to kiss Steve Harrington, this is fine, it's fine. It’s just a stupid party game, he can do this, he can be cool.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and raises his hands to grasp Steve by the shoulders before smoothing them down his arms, he leaves them loosely wrapped around his biceps, and Okay who the Hell gave him the right?

Focus.

He licks his lips and swallows his nerves, he can do this, he can do this!

Steve frowns, “Why are you licking your lips?” his voice pitched with confusion.

He can’t do this. 

“Should I not?” Eddie manages to say without stuttering, he coats his voice with false bravado as he rolls his shoulders and widens his stance, “you want dry lips Harrington?”

Steve scowls, “No”.

“Then I’m just licking them to make them better!” 

A pinched expression blooms over Steve’s face at the sudden rise in volume in Eddie’s words, he resists the urge to wipe the clammy sweat from his hands and instead lifts them from Steve’s biceps to his shoulders before placing his hands on the sides of Steve's face. Eddie’s fingers curl up into his hair behind each ear and Eddie swears for a moment he can feel Steve tilt his head into his hands -just slightly. 

“Ready?” Eddie murmurs, the earlier bravado gone as his eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s own. He’s looking just slightly up at Eddie, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Ready,” Steve affirms with a small nod that jostles Eddie's hands.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes out through his nose slowly, “1, 2 -- I’m actually not going to do a count,” he lets go of Steve’s face, it’s too much, it’s ridiculous and Eddie feels as though he’s about to fly apart at any moment.

Steve doesn’t move but his eyes trail after Eddie's hands as they fall from his face before coming back up to meet Eddie’s gaze, “Okay?”

Eddie swallows, it feels like glass going down, this is not how he saw his night going, “That's not my style, when I kiss, I don’t, I don’t count down…”

Steve snorts and smiles slightly, biting his lip as he says, “Okay”.

Eddie breathes in sharply as Steve releases his lip to speak, he shakes his head once and reaches out with slightly unsteady hands, to grip Steve’s face once more, “Ready?”

Steve nods again, “Yes,” he’s looking up at Eddie with those warm brown eyes and long lashes and Eddie feels like he's going to faint.

Just move, he thinks to himself, just kiss him and then he can leave, never darken the door of the Harrington house again. He can pretend this never happened and go back to pining from afar. 

Eddie steels himself and tilts his head as he leans in slowly, he sweeps his thumb across Steve’s cheekbone, he can do this, he can do this. He continues moving forward as Steve suddenly rears back with a gasp.

There’s a slight tremor in his voice, as Steve says, “I’m, I’m sorry, you can’t do that…”

Eddie jerks backwards, “What did I do?” he cries out, he flings his hands away from Steve’s face, holding them up in something akin to surrender. He wracks his brain, running through the last thirty seconds, trying to think of what could have freaked Steve out this badly.

“Your fa-” Steve starts before clamping his mouth shut with a sharp click. He’s curling in on himself now, one arm slides up from his side to grasp his other arm.

It’s Eddie’s turn to stare.

“Were you, were you going to say my face?” Eddie says quietly, stepping back from Steve entirely, his now empty fists clench and unclench at his sides. There’s a flicker of anger an hurt in his chest, what the fuck did that mean?

They stare at each other for a moment, Eddie waits for Steve to elaborate but all he gets is a silent grimace.

“Yeah,” Steve says weakly, after a beat, his eyes anywhere but Eddie’s own, “you just…you can’t do that with your face dude”.

"Don’t call me dude right now," Eddie growls, breathing in deeply through his nose, this whole situation has been fucked from the start and he can't take it anymore. He's done.

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Eddie mutters before crossing the space to the closed door and pounding the flat of his palm against it, “Let me out of here!”

Behind him, Steve sighs as he moves over to the wall of the spare bedroom and slides down it until he’s seated with his legs splayed out. 

But Eddie doesn't care, he doesn't. He had prepared himself for this, he knew Steve wouldn't possibly feel the same way and now it was definitive. 

That didn't stop it from stinging.

Eddie growls as he tries for the handle again and the brass does nothing but rattle rather than turn.

“Why does this door lock from the outside? That can’t be safe,” Eddie mutters to himself as he turns away from the door to face Steve once more, he leans back against it and breathes out a sigh as the chorus of, ‘Kiss, Kiss, Kiss’ renews itself with vigor just outside.

Steve sighs again and raises both hands to rub down his face before dropping them heavily to the floor on either side of him, he stares at the wall for a moment before his expression flattens again. 

He looks up at Eddie with determination in his eyes before bringing his legs up to stand. 

“Okay,” Steve says softly, as he steps towards where Eddie is leaning against the door, “let’s just do this already, just kiss me--”

“No.” Eddie firmly huffs, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and nearly knocks his head against the door as he realizes there is nowhere else to go, “I don’t--I’m not gonna kiss you”.

Steve pauses in his approach, he seems so much smaller than normal, and Eddie hates every moment of this.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Steve says quietly, he reaches up to pinch the tip of his nose and clears his throat, “you said it yourself, it’s not a big deal. If you don't want to do this that's, it's fine, you know how stubborn they are, I don't think they meant to lock the door--”

“I can’t--” Eddie cuts across him but Steve is still talking.

“I’m sorry that you got stuck with me,” Steve bites out, running a hand through his hair as he steps backwards now, away from Eddie, and sits on the end of the bed, “and I’m sorry that I got all weird just now, but--”

Eddie just can’t take it any longer.

“No Steve,” he says shrilly, not caring if the assholes outside the door are listening, not caring if the Loch Nora neighbors can hear him, not caring if the kids upstairs wake up, “It's, I just can’t, not like this!”

It takes a second for the words to register, they seem to float between them for a moment before each man registers what’s been said.

Steve stills on the bed, he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing, “What,” Steve says softly, “what, what does that mean?” 

Oh Fuck.

“Nothing,” Eddie blurts out, his heart is racing, the air is stale and thin in the basement bedroom and Eddie feels like he can’t breathe, “I didn’t mean it like, I just, we can’t like that because it's not, you know?”

Steve stares at him from the bed, “...what?”

Eddie has to leave, he can’t be in this room anymore, pinned to the door by a pair of soft brown eyes that have pinched in the middle into a confused and terrible frown.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Eddie says quietly, briskly walking past Steve and the bed as he moves towards the far wall with the single window.

“Where are you going? Eddie!” 

For the second time that night Eddie finds himself wishing he had listened to his old man. 

Attempting to climb out the window of the basement spare bedroom may not have been his best plan; as he hoisted himself up to the ledge, which was already up a good five feet at least, and popped the screen off, deaf to whatever words Steve was hissing at him, Eddie found himself sitting halfway in a window-well. 

About two feet from the open ground above.

And that was before his studded belt caught on the window ledge. 

“Fucking hell,” Eddie grits out as he shifts backwards only for the belt to wrench him back into place, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.

He hears a sigh behind him along with a low string of curses as quiet footsteps move away towards the far side of the room. Seven knocks sound on what he can only assume is the door in a strange pattern that halts the chant from the basement sitting room. A muffled voice he can’t quite make out says something that Steve responds to.

“Open up the goddamn door Buckley or I’ll never cover another morning shift again, we have a situation in here,” he says in a small, defeated voice. 

It all happens fairly quickly after that. 

Between Jeff, Nancy, and Argyle’s careful maneuvering they manage to extricate him from the window and lower him back to the floor. Nothing had prepared Eddie for the hot, tight feeling that would fill his chest as Argyle and Jeff snicker and high-five once he is back on solid ground. Nancy is smiling but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she looks from Steve and back to Eddie, expression slowly morphing into one of concern.

Robin is standing with Steve, both of them lean against the far back wall by the now open door. They seem to be having an intense whisper fight that ends with Steve storming out back into the main sitting room. 

Argyle knocks into him, suddenly draping an arm over Eddie’s shoulders and snatching his attention away from Robin and Steve. He herds Eddie forward on slightly unsteady legs to follow the rest of his rescue party as they all make their way out of the spare bedroom.

“That was freakin’ hilarious dude,” Argyle says with a warm laugh and bright, slightly hazy eyes,  “I mean Steve, Steve, he tried to climb out the window instead of kissing you, can you believe that?”

Steve stiffens from his new position on the loveseat but shakes his head after a beat and laughs; the sound rings hollow, a pale imitation to his usual beautiful laugh, “Eh, Robin just gets to add another tally to the ‘You Suck’ board, that’s all man”.

Argyle laughs and claps Eddie’s shoulder lightly one last time before moving towards Jonathan and Jeff, the trio grab a lighter from the coffee table and head back upstairs for another toke.

Robin and Nancy go back to join Vickie on the couch, their heads bent together in conversation, both girls looking up at Steve from time to time. 

Steve, meanwhile, is steadfastly staring at the floor.

I’m an idiot, Eddie thinks miserably to himself as he takes a seat on the floor next to Gareth who doesn't seem to have moved since his suggestion of Truth or Dare. 

"Hey man," Gareth says, turning his head slightly to see him better, "how'd it go?" 

Eddie says nothing, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers; he wants to tell Gareth about how much of a disaster the night was, how he's ruined everything way more than he could ever dreamed of and he still didn't get a kiss out of it.

"That well huh?" Gareth hums as he sits up and brings his legs in to sit cross-legged. 

The party has wound down significantly at this point, Steve has disappeared from the basement and Nancy has loudly announced she is leaving if anyone needs a ride home. Robin and Vickie trail after her with Megan not far on their heels, she sends an irritated glare their way, most likely directed at Gareth more-so than himself.

"Weird," Gareth mumbles, dragging his arm across his eyes clumsily, "I figured that would'a worked, with all the puppy-dog eyes he's been givin' you lately".

"What, uh, what?" Eddie says sharply, he must have heard him wrong or the weed has finally gotten to them, Gareth did not--

"Oh man, yeah I figured the Truth or Dare would totally give you an opening dude, you seemed on board?" 

Eddie's heart is racing now, his palms sweaty, what the fuck is he talking about?

"I mean you should've seen Harrington's face when you went in, all sunny an' shit, it's that Doe face you're always talking about--" 

"Gareth!" Eddie hisses, his face burning and shoulders tight, he stands up startling the other man as he paces the now empty sitting room.

He takes a deep breath and then another, bringing his hands up to press into his eyes roughly. 

"Okay, okay, so you're telling me," he says slowly, dropping his hands to his sides, "that you think Steve, Steve Harrington," he points a shaky finger to the ceiling, "is in to me?"

Gareth blinks, his eyebrows slowly climb into his wild curly hair, "Uh yeah dude".

He says it like it's the simplest thing in the universe. One plus one is two, the sky is blue, and Steve Harrington has feelings for one Eddie Munson. 

And suddenly, the words from earlier, the brittle broken sentence Steve uttered in their temporary prison, makes much more sense.

"I’m sorry that you got stuck with me". 

Steve thought Eddie had been stuck with him? 

Steve thought Eddie had been stuck with him?

The soft looks, small touches, and blinding grins, each tiny moment over the last few months tumble and fall together.

Oh God…

"...I am an idiot," Eddie whispers as he turns on his heel and makes his way to the stairs.

"Yeah! Get him dude!" Gareth calls after him as he flips back into the plush carpet with a laugh. 

Eddie wanders the dark main floor, tiptoeing through the living room, avoiding a sea of sleeping bags and pillowed heads of the kids as he goes, there is a faint light ahead of him coming from the staircase to the second floor. 

He makes his way up, careful to avoid the fifth stair as, 'it always creaks,' and the last thing he needed was Dustin, or Max, or, Ozzy forbid, Mike, interrupting.

Eddie maneuvers down the familiar hallway, and halts when he gets to Steve's room. The door is slightly ajar and, at last he’s found the source of the soft yellow light spilling down the hall and stairwell.

Eddie tips the door open, wincing at the piercing creek of the hinges as it slowly swings open revealing Steve sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He doesn’t look up as Eddie steps into the room. 

“Hey Stevie,” Eddie says softly. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, suddenly unsure how to proceed, and awkwardly stands in the doorway, the wall to wall plaid threatens to burn his retinas but he holds firm. 

There are a few things in here Steve has clearly placed himself, the plush area rug covering up most of the chic parquet flooring running through the rest of the house. A new yellow duvet that clashes with the red plaid wallpaper, but it's Steve's choice for once. The picture of the car has been replaced by a small cork board, it's covered from top to bottom in Polaroids of Steve and the kids, candids of Robin and Eddie, posed silly pictures of Jonathan and Argyle after a smoke session, and a few of Nancy and Jonathan sitting in the Byers kitchen at Thanksgiving, almost collage like but for the pins holding them in place.

The room has transformed over the last few months, and it never ceases to make Eddie smile.

“Hey Eds,” Steve sighs after a long beat.

He looks up to meet Eddie’s gaze, that same blank expression from earlier tonight painted on his otherwise handsome face. 

Eddie swallows, his heart rate ticking up once again as soft brown eyes hold him in place, if he chickens out again he swears he'll fling himself down the stairs, creaky step be damned.

He opens his mouth only for Steve to speak, slowly, quietly.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmurs, his voice cracking around the words, "if that was weird today, for you".

Eddie manages to keep his face impassive as he nods, but his heart aches at what he hears, “Yeah, I mean, no it wasn't weird, just…”

Steve sits with his shoulders squared and his spine straight, stiff and still even in his own bedroom, but with each word that leaves Eddie’s mouth the line of his body slowly begins to curl in on itself.

“Just, different”. 

Steve nods as his arms come up to wrap around himself again, he swipes his right hand up his bare arm up to the sleeve and down again and Eddie wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his own arms. 

Steve eventually puts his hands on his knees with a muffled clap and stands up, padding across the carpet towards the door, towards Eddie. 

"Well that's not the worst thing someone's called me so I'll take it," Steve says with a smirk, his big brown eyes pan between Eddie's own as though searching for something, he nods to himself.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie ventures, leaning against the open door frame, linking his ankles together as his weight shifts to one foot. 

He can’t have this, someone as kind and funny and good as Steve saying these things, thinking that Eddie thinks them too. 

Enough is enough.

Steve snorts, tipping his face down. A lock of hair falls into his eyes and once again, Eddie's fraying resolve finally snaps.

He pushes himself off the door frame with his shoulder, stepping into Steve’s space, and reaches out with one hand to card his fingers into Steve’s hair, pushing it out of his face.  

Steve freezes at the sudden touch and proximity, "What, Ed-"

The words are lost as Eddie leans his head down and captures Steve's open lips for a kiss. 

He feels Steve stiffen slightly in his arms. 

Shit.

Eddie moves to pull away, cursing his own stupidity, but as he tries to pull away, Steve curls his arms around Eddie's neck and tilts his head, stepping closer into his arms.

And it's fireworks. It’s hearing Dio for the first time all over again, it’s finding out he was going to be staying with Wayne permanently. It’s jamming out with Gareth and Jeff and losing themselves in the music.

It's Steve.

Eddie brings his hands up to curl over Steve’s cheek and into his hair once more, he brings his fingers into tangle with the soft waves and gives them an experimental tug, startling a small moan out of Steve.

Eddie smiles into the kiss and takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, letting his tongue slide over Steves, he tastes slightly like beer but Eddie doesn’t care because he’s finally kissing, and kissing, and kissing him. 

Eddie breaks away after what feels like an eternity, leaning away just far enough to place a small kiss on Steve’s nose and both cheeks, which have slowly turned a pretty pink, the arms wrapped around his neck tighten slightly at the contact and Steve’s eyes flutter closed. 

“I meant something like that,” Eddie whispers before leaning in again, swallowing a laugh that escapes Steve with another soft kiss to his smiling lips.

"I thought," Steve mumbles, chewing his bottom lip with harsh teeth, "I thought I messed it all up downstairs," the words are wet as Steve sniffs once and tips his head onto Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie slips his hands down from Steve's face to bring him in closer, wrapping his arms around his waist, "you didn't mess anything up, I've been wanting to do that for a long time,” he whispers in Steve’s ear, earning a hitching laugh. 

“Me too Eds,” Steve mumbles into the fabric of his shirt, he pulls back slowly and tips his head up to meet Eddie’s gaze, “I think, I’ve been wanting to do that since you woke up in the hospital”.

“Sorry I took so long sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against his lips, a smile tugging at the corners of his own.

Steve hums and closes his eyes before running his nose back and forth against the tip of Eddie’s own, “Well,” he says softly, “I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me”.

Eddie laughs brightly and kicks the bedroom door shut with a snap.

Maybe his Uncle Wayne wasn’t always right.

[andsjuliet]

nace week 2023 day 3 → taylor swift ships nace (or other song lyrics)

nace playlist this love → taylor swift

[happistar]

i hate this ending (affectionate)

[sapphoscompanion]

Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies | S01 E08: Or at the High School Dance... (lesbian angst cut)

[stillalittlelostngl]

Gojo/Reader Sick Day NSFW

 So this is a one-shot rn but i’m thinking of making it maybe an interconnected series of them? I toyed w/ the idea of a fully fleshed out story for it but idk. I don’t really have a good idea of the reader’s character to get heavy into a plot like that. One shots where i don’t have to develop a background and distinct character motivations tho? I can do that. Maybe something will come to me and i’ll circle back around to it idk. I’m also working on a geto/reader (honestly haven’t truly decided on the pairing yet - toss up between nanami & geto) that i’m actually really excited about so i feel like i’d be spreading myself a bit thin. If you want a good gojo/reader fic go check out mushmoon12’s - the girls are being fed w/ it omg. 

I’ve had the outline of this ready to go since November and have just been sitting on it.

You can’t hold back the mumbled curses as you shift around. Your body unable to get comfortable no matter which way you twist and turn under the mountain of blankets you had  piled on top of yourself before falling asleep. 

Everything is much too warm and your body aches as you move. Your fever has not gone down it seems. 

You had woken earlier that day with a kick drum pounding behind your eyes, your throat scratchy and your skin searing hot to the touch. You weren’t used to feeling anything other than ‘normal’ so the cold you’d developed had you convinced you were at death’s door. Calling in sick from classes left a bad taste in your mouth but the thought of pushing your aching body to get dressed and walk all the way across campus was less and less appealing by the second.

You’re not sure if the text you’d sent to Yaga had been coherent - your mind was much too foggy to concern itself with such details - but after sending it you had promptly rolled back over and cocooned yourself into your bed, hoping to sleep off whatever it was that had you feeling so miserable. 

It hadn’t worked, of course, you realize as your mind becomes more and more present. With an irritated huff you work on untangling yourself, the process taking longer as your limbs feel like dead weight as you try to coordinate yourself. 

You finally manage to get your head out from beneath the covers, your eyes squinting at the harsh light you don’t recall turning on, and you let out a soft gasp of surprise when the first thing you see after returning to the world of the living is deep cerulean. 

“Mornin’”, Satoru’s smile is all teeth and he’s certainly made himself comfortable on your bed as his larger body has somehow taken up most of the space. He’s laid out like he owns the place. You’re not all that sure of when he got there. Or how. You’re certain your door had been locked before you went to bed last night. 

You raise a questioning brow to him, “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to see how pathetic you are when you’re sick,” he brings one of his hands to your forehead, feeling the fever on your skin and clicks his tongue, “I didn’t believe Yaga at first but you really are in a bad way, huh? Poor thing.” 

You’d roll your eyes at his teasing if you could find the energy for it. 

"Fuck off,” is all you can manage to mumble before attempting to shift away from him. Entertaining him when you feel as if you’d been hit with a semi isn’t sounding all that appealing. 

"Hey, hey," his hands make quick work of stopping you from moving away from him, "Don't be like that. How are you even more cranky than usual? You must be feeling better.” He pulls your face back to him and his eyes examine you under those long white lashes. He takes in the rosy hue of your cheeks and the glazed over look in your eyes. It’s all looking very familiar to him even if he’d never seen you sick before. You recognize the look in his eyes too. 

You blame the sudden dizzy feeling overtaking your brain on the fever. 

"I know!” he suddenly releases your face and claps his hands as he arrives at a thought, not paying attention to how the sharp noise causes you to wince slightly "let's play doctor. I'll take real good care of you.” 

"Please, I'm surprised you manage to keep yourself alive day to day.”

"Come on,” he insists as his hands begin uncovering the rest of your body from the blankets, ignoring your protests, “It'll be fun. Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you practically hiss as you put up a weak resistance against his wandering hands. 

“Not really what I had in mind,” the octave his voice takes causes you to still in your movements. He smiles down at you with that shit eating grin. The one that promises that he’s up to no good. You’ve seen it a million times - usually it’s reserved for when he’s about to do something to annoy Yaga that you and Geto try to talk him out of. More recently, though, he’s been using it when it’s just you two. 

A trill goes down your spine, heating your body further at the thought of the good trouble he’s been the cause of recently. 

You nearly hiss when he finally manages to uncover the rest of your body. The cool air hitting your overheated skin brings some relief but it’s short lived as his hands begin to travel to where your sleeping top has ridden up, his fingers ghosting along the skin as he toys with the hem. 

His eyes drink in the sight of you in that way that makes your stomach do flips before he startings leaning down towards you again, bringing his face closer and closer to your own. 

Gojo let's out a soft questioning hum when his lips meet your cheek instead of the intended target. You can see the pout already forming on his lips, upset that you had turned your head from him and denied him. He always pouted when he didn’t get his way. Spoiled brat. 

"I could get you sick,” you explain as you bring your hands to the ones that are still playing with the fabric of your top. Tempting as he was, one of you had to be sensible and you knew it was never going to be him. 

His pout quickly morphs into another shit eating grin at your explanation. “Oh, you really do care about me. Don’t you?” 

You barely get a mumbled ‘shut up’ out before he silences you with a kiss. His lips quickly molding against yours and silencing whatever harsh words you had for him. You can’t help the small moan as his tongue slips against yours. 

He shifts above you, caging you in-between his body and the mattress as he moves to pepper sloppy kisses and bites down your neck and collarbone, tasting the slight salty sheen of sweat that coats your skin. Your breath shudders at the feeling of his teeth as he marks you. He’s always eager to leave marks on your skin - you want to hate him for it. You’ve told him so many times to be mindful of where he leaves them, not wanting to suffer the awkward glances that others might send your way should they see them. You’re certain the idea of others seeing evidence of the time the two of you spend together only encourages him to do it more. Bastard. 

It’s hard to stay mad at him though. At least when his mouth is moving against your skin like this. 

He pulls back from his work for a moment, surely admiring it you think in irritation, before his eyes raise and meet yours. When you offer no further protest he rewards you with a kiss as his hands begin removing what little clothing you had on. His eagerness making quick work of the process. His hands and mouth travel across the expanse of newly exposed skin. His fingers dip between your folds and you feel him smile against your skin. You’re already soaking wet. 

"You're not being a very good doctor, you know,” your breath is airy, the feeling of his fingers against you sends a buzz of pleasure throughout your body. Your mind too muddled with desire to think as his other hand moves your thighs further apart to make room for him. Anticipation coiling the spring further and you nearly forget how to breathe properly, "More like a pervert taking advantage.” 

"Semantics,” his breath ghosts along your skin as he moves further down your body. 

Your hands rush forward to grab his head, stopping him. He stares at you, the question evident on his face and you can’t help but look away in embarrassment. 

 "I feel gross" and you do. The sweat from your fever doesn’t exactly feel sexy in the moment. 

"I'm gunna make a mess of you either way" he says, continuing his descent as his fingers resume their exploration of you. You can’t stop the gasp as he pushes one inside of you, it glides in easily to the first knuckle. Your soft flesh warming him to the bone, "does it really matter?" The feeling of his breath on your clit as his finger slowly begins to pump in a steady rhythm nearly makes you forget every thought you’ve ever had. 

"I guess not" 

He wastes little time pressing his tongue against you, your eyes nearly rolling back into your head at the overwhelming sensation as he slips another finger into you, stretching you out further. You’re mesmerized by the sight he makes between your thighs, gripping his white hair tightly as you groan at the heat building inside of you. The feeling of your nails raking through his hair against his scalp is enough to have him choking out his own moan. The sound vibrating against your core and sending another wave of pleasure through you.

You can’t help the incoherent babbling of praise and encouragement that falls from your lips when his fingers increase in tempo and his lips lock around your clit.  It has you squirming in his hold, trying to meet each thrust of his fingers. 

Your desire builds, steadily climbing but your hazy mind recognizes that it’s not enough. You need more. 

He lets you pull his head up to yours. You nearly whine as you feel his fingers slip out of you, your heat cleaning around the new emptiness as you bring his lips to yours again. You taste yourself on his lips as your tongue explores his mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull his body closer to yours. You feel his length straining against his pants as your grind your hips against his, the friction sending small electric currents of pleasure throughout your body but still not enough. 

You force your aching muscles to move and soon enough you find yourself on top of him. In the back of your mind you want to think that you surprised him with the movement but you know that he’s only under you because he allowed it. 

He’s smiling up at you, his eyes heavy lidded with desire as his hands come to rest on your hips. He looks nearly delirious and you’re sure he could say the same for you. 

“Eager, are you?” his teasing is cut short with a groan as you grind down on him again. The fabric between you doing little to mask the feeling of him against you. 

You bite your tongue to prevent your own reply to his stupid remark, opting instead to pull on his waistband and release his dick from the restraint of his pants. You nearly smirk as he lets out a soft hiss at the feeling of your hand wrapping around him, he’s always been so sensitive that even the slightest touch from you can draw noises from him. 

Your other hand goes to balance yourself on his chest as you raise your hips. You can’t stop your own noises from spilling from your lips as you lower yourself onto him. His nails sink into your flesh deeper as you take him inside of you inch by inch. He doesn’t bother to quiet the loud moan when you finally have his dick fully inside of you. He never bothers to be quiet. 

Your pace starts off steady as you move against him. Your teeth catch your bottom lip as you fight off your own moans at the look of him beneath you. His pale skin is flushed, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open. You raise your hips higher, his length nearly slipping out of your completely before you’re slamming yourself back down onto him. The action drawing noises from both of you, his dick buried so deep inside of you with each movement that it leaves you seeing stars. His fingers digging into your hips leave small indentations as his grip tightens, small curses leaving his lips as he watches you move on him. 

"You're supposed to be the one taking care of me and here I am doin all the work," you moan, digging your own nails into the skin of his chest as punishment, "fucking spoiled brat." 

"You wanna be spoiled too baby?" He grabs your hips suddenly, taking control as he thrusts up into you. He angles himself just right to hit that sweet spot again and again. The one that makes you sing for him. "Cmon, is this what you wanted? Gotta use your words" he teases, knowing that he's fucking any sense right out of you. 

Your grasp of how to coherently string together a sentence in any human language is lost to you. Instead, you find yourself whimpering and throwing any arrangements of syllables together that would get him to just keep doing that. The tips of your ears begin to burn as you feel yourself reaching your peak. His thrusts become harder and deeper as he feels you beginning to clench around him, knowing the signs that you’re close has him chasing his own release. 

Gojo’s always been such a visual creature. The sight of you fucking yourself onto him, his length entering your wet heat, your whole body being rocked by his thrusts is nearly enough for him finish right then and there. It isn’t until he feels you spasming over him and his name tumbling out of your mouth like a prayer that the pressure becomes too much. His thrusts become erratic as pulls your body down against his, drawing out your orgasm with each movement. The pressure snaps with one final thrust into you, his warmth filling you to the brim as he releases a strangled cry of your name. He pumps into you a few more times, riding out his wave until there’s nothing left. You can feel his heart hammering away in his chest as you both take a moment to catch your breath. 

When you look up at him you find his eyes already trained on you. His pupils are still so blown out that they nearly overtake the entirety of the blue you’ve grown so attached to. His smile isn’t the cocky self-assured one or the shit eating grin that you’ve grown to associate him with. It’s a soft thing that is so unlike him you almost think you’re seeing things. His hand rises to your cheeks and the kiss is soft too. Tender, even, as he holds you against him. He pulls back from you with a content sigh. 

“That was really dumb.” you can’t help but say, “you’re going to be really annoying in the next few days when you start to come down with whatever I have.”

He scoffs. 

“Please, as if I’d get sick,” he says as if the idea is entirely ludacris. Maybe it is. With a power like his, who knows. 

You turn your head down hiding your own soft smile as you bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent. 

It’s followed by a sharp yelp of pain from his as you bite down against the skin. 

Just enough to hurt. 

Just enough to remind him he’s human too.

____

He does get sick and like predicted is very fucking needy about it and whines to you to take care of him

"You have to take responsibility! You did this to me" "Dumbass I told you you'd get sick! This isn't my responsibility!" "How was I supposed to know this would happen? You should've been smarter and stopped me" "You had your tongue down my throat! Of course this would happen"

you do end up playing nurse. He's so demanding and childish but it's also...kinda cute.

[the-somwthing]

I’ll just say I never understood why so many fans say that other fans give Grian “too much trauma”. Like. I feel like you could say that about literally any of the life series characters yet I ONLY really see it said about Grian? Why are we not allowed to give Grian Specifically any trauma. I don’t get it.