#to give up the other savory things just to get them. so... then maybe I could get a biscuit or english muffin? and just put jam or

[icewindandboringhorror]

What would you choose? :0c

(note: original image is from HERE (link) - but I edited it to add a wider variety of options.. also added $3 extra to the total, even though I know that makes it more uneven lol, I thought if you're adding 10 whole extra items, the money to spend should at least be increased slightly, if that makes sense..)

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 03

Eyeless Jack x Female Reader - Mirror/Overstimulation

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Overstimulation, cunnilingus, mirror sex, oral, desperation, pleasing, body positivity, controlled orgasm, embarrassment, body image issues, fluffy smut

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.8k

Jack found it so irritating how you pleaded with him to turn the lights off every time he slept with you.

At first, he thought it was an insult, a secret disgust you had for him that you were too scared to admit. But, that couldn’t be right.

You were kissy and loving all other times, unafraid to express your desire for the demon or hold back from complimenting everything he did. It just didn’t make sense why when he began to make love to you, suddenly all of that confidence and fluffiness washed away. Hiding your face in the pillows, wrapping your arms over your tummy, or even lightly panicking when he cooed you to get on top.

Until he thought about it, really thought about it.

It took time, but he began to catch the way you tugged your leggings a little higher on your stomach or adjusted your shirt so it was baggier in the front. He didn’t miss how you preferred your clothes a little baggier, opting for his instead. You sucked in when he held you, stood up straighter when he talked to you. It took time, but slowly all the pieces were connecting, all of the little tale-tell signs that you so meticulously hid.

To anyone else, it would seem normal. Maybe you just liked bigger clothes, or you just liked to wear his instead.

But Jack knew. And he wasn’t going to let you dig yourself deeper.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Jack stepped behind you, leaning over to peck a kiss atop your head. You smiled up at him, stalling your work at the kitchen counter to hike up onto your tiptoes and kiss his lips. His claws reached around your waist, pulling you back against him.

“Hi.”

“I have a surprise for you… See you later tonight…?”

He didn’t miss the little embarrassed excitement that tinted on your cheeks, your small smile nodding to him as you resumed whatever food you were making. The demon left you with another kiss, stepping away with a grin.

You wouldn’t know, but he was setting up your ‘surprise’ in your room. He took the full-length mirror from your closet, hooked it off of the hinges, and placed it on the wall opposite your bed. He made sure it was angled right, sitting on the edge of the bed to ensure you would get a good view.

You needed this more than he did, but that didn’t make him any less excited.

Night eventually fell, the quiet stir of your house looming as you stepped out of the shower down the hall. Jack was already perched at your doorframe, one shoulder hunched on the plaster as you stepped from the steaming bathroom, towel tucked neatly around your frame.

Fresh from the shower, you smelled so delicious. Little fruity savory scents wafted around you as Jack breathed deep, chills running up his back. He couldn’t wait.

He didn’t miss the little flush in your cheeks or the way you smiled sweetly when he reached a hand out, your small one clasping right in his palm. He also didn’t miss how you tugged the towel up a little higher to cover your underarms, glancing down to give yourself a once-over before following him. He was more than tired of your overthinking brain.

You gasped lightly when you stepped into your warm bedroom, candles and tiny tea lights lit up across any surface the demon could place them. You looked around in awe, eyes bright and twinkling from the fire glow, Jack’s claw tugging you further inside. Now you wouldn’t be able to turn the lights off…

“Jack… What is this for…?” You smiled, pushing your wet hair back from your face as Jack closed the door. Glancing to your bed, you noticed the water bottle and tiny assortment of Advil, all things that you typically needed after a night with the demon.

But, you also didn’t miss the mirror from your closet repositioned in front of your bed, glancing at your reflection sourly.

“Why did you move my mirror?”

“Suprise…” Jack cooed, stepping in to press behind you, his claws wrapping around to the front of your stomach. It had always impressed you just how much taller the demon was compared to you, but looking at it now, he seemed huge.

You stood in front of the glass, staring at Jack’s reflection with knitted brows, his lips coming down to kiss behind your ear. You shivered, his breath so warm against your damp skin, leaning back into his touch.

“What do you mean, surprise?”

The demon chuckled, hooking his fingers into the towel and slowly opening it, your eyes flashing down to yourself as you watched nervously.

“Wait…” You groaned.

Your legs instinctively clenched when your bare body showed itself, large claws tugging the towel from your sides and tossing it somewhere unknown. The warm candleglow bounced off your skin, deep oranges and yellows showing every freckle and indent as Jack found his way back to your neck.

You cringed, staring only at Jack’s face pressed close to yours instead of looking at yourself, disgust slowly creeping in and ruining your mood. He felt the way you tensed against him, a deep groan against your neck as he lifted off.

“Can we not with the mirror?” You mumbled, keeping your eyes solely focused on him instead of where he wanted you to look, at your beautiful body. He shook his head, pulling you back until you sat on the edge of your bed, Jack circling to your front. “This is exactly why we need it, I think.”

You’re confused, crossing one leg over the other as Jack kneels himself in front of you, his large frame putting him at eye level with your chest. You immediately edge back, shaking your head slowly.

“I know what this is…”

Jack is wrapping his claws around your ankles before you can get any further, pulling your body to the edge again and making you sit up straight. He didn’t care as you whined your unwillingness for his idea, pushing himself between your knees and pulling your claves to lock onto his sides.

One claw wraps around your jaw, tugging your face down to face him directly as you huff, silently pleading with him. He pressed his lips softly against yours, giving you a moment to recuperate before he sat back again.

“You, my pet, are the most intoxicatingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I find it insulting you think something I find attractive is ugly.” His words are overlapped with kisses down your neck, his claws resting eagerly on your hips as he pecks downwards, breathing deep into your neck.

Your arousal floods his senses, the silent excitement he can almost taste as he kisses your chest so sweet and hungry. Your breathing catches as he palms your tit, massaging the mound slowly until you’re arching your back into his touch.

“Every time I see you, I can barely hold myself back from kissing every square inch of your skin.” His lips dip lower, kissing between your tits and down to the top of your stomach. A quiet whine slips through when he finally makes it to the softness of your tummy, kissing across your warm skin and nipping gently with his teeth. Oh, how he would love to have just a bite, just a taste of your sweetness underneath.

You were shuddering the lower he got, little wet spots from his lips trailing to the tops of your thighs, your eyes never leaving him for a second.

He loves your pliability when you lean back on your hands, his claws hooking under your knees to push your thighs open further, the sweet scent of your arousal making him lightheaded. Your heavy eyes watched as he nipped the inside of your legs, kissing the soft skin as close as he could get to your pretty cunt before you were gasping.

He leaned back, much to your disappointment, but held your gaze, the deep sockets boring into you. You were nervous, body twitchy and shifting awkwardly to avoid glancing up to the mirror.

Sleeping with the demon was heavenly, his body and words coiling you up just right. But, you could never get over the roadblock that was your appearance.

Jack made it so evidently clear how pretty you were, complimenting you every chance he got and going the extra mile to make you feel special. That didn’t stop you from cringing at the way your stomach rolled when you moved, or how your legs took up so much space when you sat down. There was no telling how a man so lean and strong found someone like you so addicting.

He was about to show you, though.

“I want you to look at yourself.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at him, but the look on his face was serious.

Huffing, you looked up into the mirror across from you, the warm-toned room lighting your reflection and showing you leaned back on the edge of the bed and Jack’s large frame kneeled neatly between your spread legs.

Quickly, you glanced back down, Jack’s face still one of seriousness at the gentle scowl you held.

He leaned in slowly, pushing his face back between the plushness of your thighs and pushing your knees further apart. You let your lips part, upper body leaning back further in preparation for him.

Until he stopped. Just mere inches from your whiny cunt, his hot breath making your body run with chills. You waited, body heavy and eager, but slowly tensing with confusion when he didn’t press any further than that.

“Uh, Jack?”

He tilted his head up, eyelids low on his empty sockets as he peered into yours.

“I said I want you to look at yourself. Look away, and I’ll stop.” He grinned coyly, jagged teeth gleaming in the candlelight as he leaned in again, this time kissing against the lips of your expectant cunt.

Your jaw still hung loose as you nervously sat up a little more, eyes tense to glance up at yourself as you felt a thick, warm tongue glide smoothly between the wetness of your folds. Your eyes finally met your reflection, giving one quick glance down to see that Jack was peering up at your face, watching carefully.

You huffed, staring back at yourself and gasping as your cheeks grew a darker shade of pink, freckles and dimples bright on your face. You could barely hold yourself from watching his back muscles flex and contort as he holds your legs, a quiet grumble making you refocus.

“Hnn…” Jack let his lips pucker against your puffy folds, tongue gliding through the slickness and rounding at your clit. The long muscle lapped at the taste of your cunt, pulling deep groans and whines from the both of you.

Even though working you, Jack watched on, carefully holding your gaze to make sure you never looked away from your beautiful face. You were jittery, muscles tensing and legs nearly shaking as you tried so hard to obey him. It all just became a little too much when he finally pushed the thickness of his tongue past your entrance.

“Oh, hah- Fuck-” Your eyes flickered back and forth, trying so hard to hold your own gaze but getting caught in the view of his tongue slowly pushing into you. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth, fingers grabbing the sheets a little tighter as Jack huffed.

You were ready for that sweet feeling of fullness, of his long tongue craning inside and rubbing all the right places. But, when he slowly began to retract the muscle, pulling his head back from the center of your legs, you nearly cried.

“Jack, please-” He just watched on, staring at you with disinterest.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror.”

You took the hint, forcing your glance back to your flushed face, heavy eyes and droplets of water from your shower gleaming in the candlelight. Jack resumed, pushing his face back quickly and letting his tongue slick back into your excited entrance again.

But, when you felt another tongue slip from his lips, you gasped, shoulders tensing as you willed yourself not to look down.

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Jack could reach. You hissed, back arching into the feeling as your hands fisted the sheets.

It was so embarrassing to see your face involuntarily strain and tense at every heavenly feeling, your eyes flutter or lips part with the loud noises of Jack lapping away at your pussy. And you couldn’t even watch him do it.

Your body was wrecked with pleasure, Jack using all of his devices to pull desperate moans and cries from your lips as he pushed his tongue deeper, the other flicking against your whiny clit.

“Look how good you look falling apart, little thing…” He grumbles against your wetness, muscle curling and soaking up all of your arousal. Your hips angle, trying so desperately to ride on his hungry tongue.

Your face is wrecked, body alike as you let your hands leave the bedsheets and curl around his head, fisting your fingers into his hair. The demon growls, letting his third tongue push through his lips and rummage against you, poking and pushing to try and fit inside your entrance.

“Jack- Jack- Ahn- Yea-” You pull against his hair, making sure you keep your eyes solely on your reflection, the gradual build of your orgasm tingling in your gut. Jack can taste it, can smell it as he finally gets a second tongue past that tight ring of muscle.

You cry out, eyes shutting only for a second, but quickly flicking back open. You would rather die than let Jack see you weren’t looking at yourself, wanting nothing more than to keep his tongues at the pace they were at. You’d look at yourself the rest of your life if it meant you felt like this.

“P-please ah- oh-” You squirm.

The demon is practically fucking you open with the warm muscles, the stretch and push against your walls so delicious and overwhelming, but all you can do is claw for more.

“Tell me how… hah- How beautiful you are…” He slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later, but you comply. You’re embarrassed, desperate, and desire clinging to your every word.

“I’m… I’m beautiful…hnn-”

“Pretty…”

“I’m pretty-”

“Perfect…”

“Fuck… I- ah- I’m perfect…”

Your face is flushed with desperation, watching your every muscle contort until you finally feel like you can look at yourself without cringing, mind too busy trying to push your orgasm out.

Finally satisfied, Jack lets go of your thighs, the limbs instantly clinging around the side of his head and squeezing. He groans, pushing your body back flat against your bed and completely ravaging your cunt.

You finally get the chance to look down, his own face flushed and disheveled as his tongues curl and tug your orgasm through, body convulsing and writhing under him.

“Jack-!” You’re cumming, hard, eyes rolling back into your eyelids as you grip his hair tight, the sweet relief of waves of pleasure gripping your every movement. Your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants. He doesn’t let up though, drinking up all your cunt spills on his tongues, deep groans and heaves of breath flooding your senses.

When you finally begin to hiss, sensitivity gripping, he tugs his tongues out, letting your body relax.

His mouth is soaked, a claw coming to wipe away the saliva and arousal from his chin as he pulls you up. Kisses are quickly littered across your skin, hands massaging deeply across your lower back.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” He whispers, pushing up to kiss across your face, your flushed skin hot under his lips. You’re still embarrassed, still reluctant to look up at yourself in the mirror, but you do it anyway.

Your body is disheveled, cunt still flashing with arousal, but the view in the mirror is a lot more tolerable, a lot more pretty than you remember it being.

Jack smiles as you watch yourself, tugging you back closer as he retakes his position, pushing your legs open.

It doesn’t take him coaxing for you to look at yourself when his tongues slide between your dripping cunt again, a wilted moan as he pushes back in again.

If he could love you and your body so much, maybe you could learn to, too.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[quarterlifekitty]

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

[helpimstuckposting]

You’re an Idiot, Eddie Munson

Prompt: Sick Fic, Roommates, Idiots to Lovers | Rating: T | Wordcount: 13,765 | AO3 | @steddiebingo

Eddie’s an idiot. He knows he’s an idiot. He was an idiot when he asked Steve to move to Indy with him, despite his massive crush on the man. He was an idiot when he got used to Steve in his space, cooking dinner and being an all-around perfect man. He was an idiot when he started turning people down at the bar he went to on Saturdays, and he was an idiot when he stopped going all together, just so he could join Robin and Steve’s movie nights in her apartment.

He got used to Steve in his space, Steve in his plans, Steve in the kitchen in the mornings making coffee for them both; Steve taking naps on their shitty couch as the sun leaked through the window in the afternoon, bathing him in gold like some kind of coveted Greek statue; Steve laughing on the floor as Robin shoves her hand down his shirt to fetch the popcorn he’d dropped. He got used to Steve in every aspect of his life and he was an idiot for… forgetting.

Every time Steve touched his lower back when he dodged Eddie in the kitchen, every time they walked to get groceries and Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulder, every time Eddie lost himself in the jokes and the teasing and the flirting and Steve didn’t push him away, he forgot that they weren’t… well… together. That this was all just Eddie being caught up in his head. 

Because he’s an idiot.

Of course his delusion couldn’t last forever, he just… you know, hoped. But when Eddie came home from work early to a pair of high heels by the door that were decidedly not his and probably not Steve’s, and some less than savory sounds escaping from the muffled confines of Steve’s room, Eddie couldn’t exactly shove reality away any longer, lest he want to end up in an asylum.

He found himself on Buckley’s doorstep instead, pathetic brown eyes begging entrance.

“Steve brought a girl over?” She asked, rolling her eyes as she dragged him into the apartment.

He nodded miserably, heading straight for her couch and face planting into the cushions. It was a ratty old floral embroidered thing the three of them pulled off the side of the road, dragged up three flights of stairs, and did everything in their power to clean until it was presentable. Robin loved it. It had tears and loose threads and a slightly wobbly back leg and it was perfect. Perfect for catching Eddie’s tears at the moment, but good for other things, too.

Like movie nights where Robin laid her head in Steve’s lap, and Eddie sat on the floor between Steve’s legs as he carded his fingers through Eddie’s hair. He smushed his face further into the couch. Maybe if he suffocated, he’d forget Steve Harrington ever existed.

“Alright, whiny baby, spill,” she demanded, lifting his legs up so she could slip underneath them.

“There’s nothing to spill,” he mumbled into the fabric, not even lifting his head.

“You haven’t told him how you feel yet, have you?”

“Whuh- no!” He shrieked, pulling his face free and almost kneeing her in the gut as he flailed onto his elbows.

“Hey, watch it, Gumby, I have precious organs in there.” Robin shoved at his knobby knees, rubbing at her stomach like he’d stabbed her.

He rolled his eyes, kneeing her again on purpose until she nearly threw him off the couch, electing to sit on his lanky legs instead of risking bodily injury. Eddie grunted, newly immoble and tried to wiggle his way out from under her before giving up and flopping back down in surrender.

“It’s not fair,” he whined, wiggling his legs under her butt.

“It’s unfair because you literally haven’t said anything to him, you moron.”

“Agh!” he clutched at his chest, wounded like he’d been shot through the heart and he was bleeding out over the faded floral fabric. “That’s rich coming from someone who’s never once told a crush how she feels!”

She squawked and squeezed his side, slapping back as he retaliated. There was something healing about a kindergarten slap fight between friends, at least enough to distract him from why he was on her couch in the first place; why he’d left his own apartment in a flurry and practically sprinted to hers, why he’d had a lump in his throat the size of indiana itself. It slowly dissipated as he dodged her hits and light slaps, the sting against his arms, and the creeping numbness in his legs as they remained squished tightly under Robin.

She gave up with a huff, flopping her entire body on top of his. They both breathed heavily, as if they’d run a mile instead of just attacking each other out of nowhere. He revelled in it. Basked in the tightness of his lungs and the reddening skin of his arms. If he thought too much about why he was here, it would all creep back up his throat like an alien poised to burst through his chest.

But he did come here to talk, to vent, to fish for sympathy about his pathetic crush as it tore through him, the visions of what could be happening behind Steve’s closed door running through his head like a repetitive nightmare that wouldn’t leave him alone. He thought about those pointed high heels that were sprawled where his shoes were supposed to be, and whatever gorgeous girl was previously attached to them before weaseling her way into their apartment.

He felt sick.

“Have you ever thought maybe he’s fooling around because he doesn’t know how badly you’re pining over him?” Robin finally mumbled, face buried in his rumpled Metallica t-shirt. He focussed on the weight of her draped over him, grounding him like a layer of blankets, or a shiny shock blanket placed over his shoulders so he didn’t spiral into nothingness as his life burned around him.

“No,” he mumbled. “Why would I think that? It’s just wishful. He’s straight, we both know that. I’m not going to torture myself with ‘what ifs’.”

“Oh? But you’ll torture yourself with bad ‘what ifs’, like ‘what if he gets a girlfriend’ and ‘what if he moves out’ and ‘what if he discovers my big gay loser crush on him’.” She dropped her voice low in imitation, mocking him with every shot to the heart.

He groaned, “Those are different! Those are realistic! Those won’t get my hopes up only to crush them into dust to scatter across the globe like the ashes of my lifeless corpse.”

“Wow,” she said flatly, lifting her head and looking him in the eye with raised, judging eyebrows. “You’re even gayer than I thought you were.”

Eddie squawked, using the last of his energy to lift himself into a sitting position and toss Robin aside. She grunted as she hit the ground, leaping back up to slap him in the chest one more time for good measure.

“This is serious! This is important! This is heartbreak!” he shouted.

“This is desperate,” Robin muttered to herself, plopping back down on the couch. “Listen. I know he hasn’t exactly said it, but I’m not entirely sure Steve is straight in the first place. Sure, he’s only ever slept with women, but…” she softened, sagging into her cushion, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Eds.”

Eddie shook his head, unkempt hair tangling as he rubbed it roughly against the fabric beneath him. “No. Nope. Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true!” she begged, clasping a hand around his ankle and shaking it enthusiastically, wishing she could just shake some sense into his whole body. “What straight boy acts like he does?!”

“I don’t know, Buckley, a nice one?” he shrieked, hands twitching to cover his ears like a child and shout out ‘la, la, la,’ to drown out her hopeful pleading.

“He calls your uncle every week for check-ins! He knows your schedule by heart, and he makes dinner for you every single time your shift goes overtime. He knows your favorite foods, he gets you treats sometimes just because he thought about you. I mean, you literally fall asleep on the couch together all the time!” She was whining now, voice propelling into a shout the more she listed, mind scrambling to lay out every single thing that made Eddie fall in love with Steve in the first place, as if that wasn’t entirely too torturous for Eddie to keep listening to.

“Buck, tell me right now he wouldn’t do all of that for you, too, and I’ll concede,��� he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest to appear collected, even if he just did it to keep himself from falling apart.

She was quiet. He could see all of her points running through her head, all the moments Steve was generous and kind to everyone he cared about, all the times he did those things for people who weren’t Eddie. She seemed to deflate, just like him as she realized he was just that kind to everyone, and Eddie only got the brunt of it because they lived together. Of course Steve paid attention to him, they spent nearly every moment of the day orbiting each other, that didn’t mean he was special.

“He looks at you the way he used to look at Nancy,” she whispered. Her eyes were pleading, desperate for him to understand even though he couldn’t, he didn’t.

“Buck… I- I want to believe you, I swear I do. God, I want to believe you, but I just can’t,” he pleaded right back, “What happens if I do believe you, and I get my hopes up, and I do what you tell me to and confess and he just… just looks at me. Like he doesn’t know what to say, like he doesn’t know how to turn me down, or he doesn’t know how to talk to me anymore. Because I know he wouldn’t be mean, I know that. But it would be worse to see him not want to turn me down, just because I’m his friend and he feels sorry for me.”

He couldn’t handle it if Steve just looked at him with those wide eyes, mouth agape with words he didn’t know how to say. He didn’t want to watch the conflict in Steve’s eyes as he debated how to let Eddie down gently, how to not hurt his feelings when every single thing he could say would. He didn’t want to flit around the apartment and awkwardly pretend that it was okay, that he was fine, that Steve could be normal around him and everything would be fine, because Eddie didn’t know how to do that.

“So much for not torturing yourself with ‘what ifs’.”

Eddie shook his head. He didn’t understand why she kept pushing, she knew what it was like to pine after a straight person, or presumably straight person. She knew this, the feeling of desperation as she watched from afar, trying to stay sane as the other person dug themselves further and further into her heart like they were carving out a scar that would take years to heal, if at all. She sighed, patting his ankle one more time before she reached for the remote and conceded to ignoring the issue all together. She had tried her hand at persuasion, now it was time for distraction.

They watched a few reruns on TV in silence, until Robin kicked him in the shin, glancing at the clock. “He’ll probably be wondering where you are if you don’t head home soon. It’s been a few hours, I’m sure it’s safe to go back.” She looked sympathetic, her eyes just as wide and sad as he imagined Steve’s would be if he confessed. He nodded, dragging himself from the safety of Robin’s living room. She followed him to the door, sad puppy eyes maintaining their place. He knew she was frustrated with him, too, but she didn’t show that right now as she hugged him goodbye.

“Just think about it, okay?” she parted with and he nodded, if only to placate her. But he did think about it, he thought about nothing else the whole walk back to his apartment as he psyched himself up to see Steve. He knew Robin was right about some things, Steve was an anomaly of a straight man to Eddie. Sometimes, when they were cooking together or cleaning on a Sunday it felt painfully domestic as they shifted around, weaving in and out of each other’s spaces like they’d known nothing else. Sure, sometimes it felt like the smile he gave Eddie was different than the one he gave Robin or the kids, but he also knew that the tension he felt whenever they were close was one-sided, just Eddie unable to look away as Steve went about his own business like a magnet pulling his cheap metal rings toward him with every motion.

He kept thinking about Robin’s list of reasons, of the tug at his heart every time Steve came home with Eddie’s favorite snacks just because he was at the store and saw them — thought of Eddie when he wasn’t there. He tried to tamp down the hope as he remembered the man doing the same exact thing for Robin, or stocking the fridge up with Dustin’s favorites every time the kid mentioned coming to visit. Steve was just like that, Eddie knew. He knew not to get his delusions confused with reality, no matter how much he wanted Robin’s world to be the right one.

When he opened the door to the apartment, he was greeted by the relieving absence of a certain pair of heels, no evidence that they’d even existed in the first place. He chucked off his shoes, kicking them messily into a pile directly where the high heels had been, like some petty dog marking his territory. She wouldn’t even know — neither would Steve — and yet it made him feel just a bit better to see his beat up work boots shedding dirt next to Steve’s keds, where they belonged. There wasn’t a girl invading their space, no perfume floating around for Eddie to choke on as he pretended everything was okay.

Instead, the smell of a warm dinner wafted from the kitchen, the clanging of pots and pans telling him exactly where Steve was. As he rounded the corner, he could see the man flitting around from pot, to frying pan, to fridge, stirring and grilling up what smelled like Eddie’s favorite dinner.

He didn’t look dishevelled, didn’t have any hickies dappling the skin of his neck and Eddie chose to be thankful for that instead of wondering whether there were other marks in places he couldn’t see. His hair was damp, fresh and fluffy, drying with a slight curl that he never left the house with and Eddie wanted to card his hands through it, drag his nails across his scalp and feel the soft strands against his palm.

Steve whistled as he stirred the sauce in the pot, and Eddie breathed in deep, trying to melt into the scent of Steve and chopped tomatoes and chicken, shoving away the talk with Robin and the sounds he heard as he fled the apartment. He cleared his throat, leaning against the arch of the kitchen doorway to appear casual and collected, like he hadn’t just had a crisis of the heart. Steve startled, catching his eye with a smile and Jesus H. Christ, Eddie was doomed. He was like the sun, he was like beams of warmth shining through clouds after a storm, the sky parting to deliver him like god down to earth for Eddie to reach out and touch, only to brush fingers and be thankful.

Jesus, maybe he was gayer than Robin thought.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve pulled Eddie from his thoughts. He could probably wax poetic about Steve Harrington for every hour of his life, though that kind of behavior would definitely make him run for the hills, leaving Eddie to wallow in his own obsessive tendencies.

“Hey. Whatcha makin’?” he asked, though he already knew.

How long could he lean against this doorway until it was weird? Had he already been standing here too long? Did it look obvious that he was trying to act natural, only for him to overthink his naturalness to a point of being unnatural? He cleared his throat and walked over to the kitchen table. He couldn’t fuck up sitting, right?

“Grilled chicken parm!” He seemed light, carefree, satiated if Eddie wanted to torture himself more than he already had tonight.

“Mmm, my favorite.”

“I know,” Steve winked. He winked, and Eddie wanted to throw himself out of the window. He wanted to walk up to Steve and wrap his arms around him, he wanted to kiss his neck and trail his fingers down his arms, pretend that they lived together because they loved each other and not just because it was convenient to split rent.

He wanted a lot of things.

“Oh!” Steve startled, turning to point his spatula at Eddie, “I got your favorite cereal and some Yoo-hoo, and we haven’t had ice cream in a bit so I got a couple pints and I figured we could get high and watch a movie or something? Robin gave me a bag of tapes she wanted me to watch, because apparently I’m uncultured,” he mocked, voice going high at the end as if mimicking Robin’s voice, though it sounded nothing like her.

Eddie’s giggle came out high and grating, ripping through the air just to torture him. He wished he could grab the sound and shove it back down his throat, erase it from existence. He just cleared his throat instead and hoped that Steve hadn’t noticed how fucking weird he was being.

He just kept thinking of Robin’s insistence that Eddie should tell him the truth, should tell him that he’d been embarrassingly gone on the man since he’d dragged him out of hell itself. And it was embarrassing, just how much Eddie waited with bated breath every time Steve leaned in close, any time they shared air and he was close enough to count the other man’s moles and freckles, close enough to see the flecks of gold and green and whiskey-brown that call Steve’s eyes their home. If any of his friends gained the ability to read minds, he would be fucked. He got teased enough, he didn’t need to add the nonsense poetry he waxed about Steve every moment he had a spare thought.

The other man didn’t seem to notice his crush-induced spiral, turning back to the stove and humming as he continued to stir the sauce. Eddie should call Wayne. It’d been a while — a week, maybe — and if anyone could handle his sad pining, it was his uncle.

Instead, he picked up the book he left on the table that morning and pretended to read, glancing ever so often at the man who seemed to be synonymous with favorites. Favorite foods, favorite snacks, favorite ice cream, favorite movies, favorite person.

The fact that Steve didn’t already know how Eddie felt was kind of ridiculous, especially since Robin hounded him about his pining every time they were together. He knew Buckley wouldn’t betray his trust like that, though. No matter how much she bitched and whined about him, she had his back — even against her other half.

When the food was ready, it was easier to fit back into their usual banter. If ever Eddie got too close to blurting out the truth, he just shoved more chicken and pasta into his mouth and chewed until the impulse went away. Steve talked about his day and his classes, how the students were always hard to reign in when the weather got nicer and no one wanted to learn about history. Eddie thought he'd probably have graduated the first time, if Steve Harrington was his teacher.

You haven’t told him how you feel yet, have you?

He shoveled more food into his mouth.

Steve never mentioned the girl he brought home, or the shoes that were at the door, or the noises he’d heard from Steve’s room. He did mention the cafe he went to for lunch, the sandwich he’d ordered that ‘Eddie you’d love it, it reminded me of that place we went to right after moving here, you remember?’ and he mentioned the store he’d noticed near the grocery, one that just opened and had mini figures and card games and D&D stuff, ‘all that nerd shit you and the kids like, we should check it out some time.’

Eddie wanted to scream; he had no more food to shovel. So, instead, he collected the dishes and stacked them in the sink, and made his way to the living room — busying his hands with the task of rolling a few joints for their movie night.

Steve grabbed a plastic grocery bag full of tapes that he’d left by the door, and went through each movie one by one, holding them up for Eddie to see and judge. Robin was apparently on a John Waters kick, and while Eddie was down for Cry Baby, if Robin wanted Steve to watch Pink Flamingos, it was going to have to be on her terms, thank you.

He watched as Steve fed the tape into the player, and broke out the ice cream pints from the freezer — little spoon for Eddie because he preferred it for ice cream. It was calm, it was domestic, it was torture, and Eddie loved every moment with Steve. He took his glances where he could, when Steve was turned away, flicking his eyes back to the rolling papers whenever he was close to getting caught. He rolled two, figured that was enough to make him act normal again — to relax and get his shit together so he stopped acting like a twitchy little squirrel, hoarding anything Steve would give him.

He gave Steve the first hit, if only to be a creep and feel the dampness of Steve’s spit on the filter. He watched as the smoke left his lips, touching where Eddie wished he was allowed, before it cascaded out and filled the room. He took one more hit before passing to Eddie, fingers lazily brushing as the joint left his hands.

Eddie looked away as he drew in his breath, the dampness of the filter a thrill as well as a condemnation. He’d always felt like a freak, always wore that label with pride, but he’d never felt more like a freak, than when he was around Steve Harrington.

He focussed on the red-hot burn of the cherry as he pulled in a breath, the smoke burning through his lungs as he held it longer than he needed to — holding it there just to feel the white hot cloying at his throat, and grounding him before he did something stupid like lean into Steve’s space and say something flirty.

You haven’t told him how you feel yet, have you?

Buckley, if only it were that easy.

Just think about it, okay?

Actually, he should stop thinking about it. Before the words started spewing from his lips with no interference from his brain, before his heart stopped beating in his chest and came up his throat to speak the words itself, before he had those stilettos by the door wedged into his brain like a lobotomy.

“Eddie?”

He looked over to Steve, who was holding out the joint again. He hadn’t even remembered passing it back after his hit. 

“You good, man?”

“Yeah.” He took the joint once more, and tried to stay in the moment. Drifting was for later, right now was for man and dude and buddy.

It was mid way through joint #2, when Steve got cuddly. He always drifted closer, leaned in more to talk about the movie, whispered commentary even though they were home and there was no one else to disturb in the theater.

I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Eds.

He looked at him like he looked at Robin, Eddie thought. He looked at him with warmth and kindness, with a deep affection that was reserved exclusively for those closest to Steve Harrington. He looked- 

He looks at you the way he used to look at Nancy.

He was close, close enough to lean against if Eddie just let himself; close enough to brush his nose against Steve’s forehead, close enough to–

Eddie took another hit before handing it back to Steve. He held on to this one, too, until the burn of it took his mind off those too close thoughts. Steve’s lips wrapped around the filter, and in Eddie’s hazy, floaty mind it looked like something he should pray to — the smoke drifting around them, caressing Steve’s skin as gently as it dared, just a whisper as it passed. It was like that, that, you know, the renaissance art style where everything is blended and smokey and otherworldly. Like the Mona Lisa. Steve was the Mona Lisa, and Eddie wanted to breathe in all the smoke that touched his skin.

Steve was giggly now, loose and light headed as Johnny Depp cried glycerin tears and his love interest pleaded ‘please Mr. Jailer, won't you let my man go free?’

He giggled and sang along to the repetitive lyrics and shifted both legs onto the couch cushions, scooting himself closer again, leaving him resting against Eddie’s side. He was warm, so warm against the cotton of Eddie’s t-shirt and he thought maybe if he took another hit or two, he’d be able to blend into the warmth of Steve’s skin and melt together into one person.

The joint was in the ashtray on the coffee table; Eddie would need to lean over to grab it. He glanced at Steve, cuddled up nice and sweet into his side, and he didn’t want to disturb him — like a cat in his lap when he desperately needed to use the bathroom. Steve stretched and snuggled closer, eyes focussed on the TV and not on Eddie’s dilemma.

He was never known as a problem solver, his three years as a senior in high school showed the entire town of Hawkins that he wasn’t exactly the best scholar, but even Eddie didn’t think he was stupid enough to miss what would happen next.

He wiggled his arm under the man, just to grab his attention and not to jostle him free. He thought, oh, Steve would definitely just know what he wanted, because sometimes he forgot that he wasn’t a part of Steve and Robin’s creepy Shining Twins mind-meld. So instead of the man just reaching over to grab the half-smoked joint, he turned his head toward Eddie. Which, obviously that wouldn’t be an issue if Steve hadn’t been snuggled into his side, practically one leg in his lap, but — lo and behold — the movement brought his nose right to Eddie’s cheek.

He could feel his blood rush to the point of connection immediately, lighting his cheeks up like a bright red neon sign — like Eddie was some kind of brothel in the red light district signalling to the public just how horny he was for the man next to him.

He turned slowly — so slowly he wasn’t sure if it was just the weed, or if the whole world was turning in slow motion — just enough to see Steve’s face out of the corner of his eye. He thought maybe Steve didn’t realize how close he was until he turned, just like Eddie, but he still hadn’t pulled away. He smiled lazily at him instead, eyes unfocused and hazy, squinting at the corners like he was still laughing without actually doing it.

“Little close there, Sweetheart,” Eddie whispered, because anything louder than that felt blasphemous, to cut through the sleepy peace of the angel next to him.

Steve giggled, leaning back to actually focus his eyes on Eddie. He could feel the cool air in his absence, Steve’s nose no longer against his cheek.

“Whoops,” he laughed, voice just as small as Eddie’s.

“Could you grab the joint for me? I didn’t want to move you.”

Steve did as he was asked, grabbing the joint and the lighter next to it, and lighting it up for Eddie without him having to even ask. He took one small pull before handing it over, and Eddie fought with himself to hold back a moan as he savoured Steve’s saliva as it once again touched his lips. If only there wasn’t a barrier between the two, if only he could taste it from the source, feel it as he drank Steve in with the desperation of a man lost in the desert.

Steve settled himself back into Eddie’s side, and Eddie did his best not to jostle him as he finished off the joint, thankful that Steve had drifted off to sleep before he did it. At least with Steve asleep, he was safe from the confession that kept springing to the tip of Eddie’s tongue.

The taste in his mouth as Eddie woke up was stale. It felt like cotton on his tongue, dry throat clicking as he swallowed. His thoughts were soupy and his eyes were crusted, joints aching as he stumbled off the couch. He should have tried to fall asleep in his own bed, he wasn’t 20 anymore and the crack of his neck as he stretched took the breath out of him for just a moment. He dragged himself into his room to tug off the jeans he was still wearing, keeping his Metallica shirt and his briefs on from the day before, but he hadn’t bothered with pulling on a pair of sweats — his pale thighs out and about for the world to see.

Steve was in the kitchen, no doubt being the most desirable housewife in all of Indiana by making breakfast for them both. Eddie could smell the toast and butter, the thick scent of coffee drifting through the hallway to his room. He smacked his dry lips in anticipation.

They shared small smiles as Eddie made his way to the table, Steve’s hair sticking up wildly in the back. He looked soft and sleep-rumpled, a small yawn pulling itself from his lips, and Eddie looped his ankle around the leg of his chair to stop from draping himself across Steve’s back. Robin’s words were still floating around like an evil spell, compelling him against his will. If only he could ignore it, shove it into a lock-box and pretend they’d never talked, that she’d never told him to confess in the first place–

The phone rang.

Steve looked from his hand holding the spatula, to the one holding a cracked egg currently spilling into the pan.

“I’ve got it,” Eddie chuckled, squeezing Steve’s shoulder as he passed because he was nothing if not self-indulgent.

It was one of Wayne’s neighbors on the other end.

The call didn’t last more than five minutes.

Eddie hung up the phone, gripping tightly at the plastic handset. He didn’t let go. Couldn’t do much of anything except focus on the racing in his mind. He needed to leave, he needed to call off work, he needed to get back to Hawkins as fast as he could.

“Eds?” Steve asked, voice hesitant and unsure. His eyebrows were drawn together and he had stopped his cooking, clicking the stove off, one hand still wrapped around a spatula and the other halfway to reaching out for Eddie, to touch, to help, to comfort.

“Wayne had a heart attack,” he whispered.

Steve abandoned the breakfast, giving in to the want of reaching out, to cradle Eddie’s elbow in the most gentle touch, like that would help like that would make it better instead of feeling like barbed wire on his skin.

Eddie pulled away, slipping his arm from Steve’s reach and the other man’s hand remained in the air, stuck, like he didn’t know what to do next. They were both still, unusual for them, and it felt suddenly like there were glass shards in the air between their bodies, just waiting to slice them open at any sudden move.

“Is he okay? Eds?”

Eddie nodded, that’s what the neighbor said. That’s what he said. Wayne was okay, Wayne was fine, he went to the hospital on time, he was back home, he was okay.

But, Eddie wasn’t there. He couldn’t be sure, he didn’t know.

“He’s… he’s okay, he’s fine, he’s back home,” he repeated, like a mantra, like he needed to hear the words out loud in order for them to be real. Wayne was fine, Wayne was home.

“Do you want to go, to take care of him? We can stop by the grocery store and pick up some things, I can take a few days off and drive down with you,” Steve was rambling, creating plans and asking about Wayne’s favorite foods, talking about leafy greens and no red meat, about soups he could make and how much PTO he had left, and we, and us, and Eddie wanted to scream. 

“Stop.”

Steve did. He cut himself off, hand still raised to where Eddie’s elbow used to be, but he didn’t step forward, didn’t reach out again — kept himself silent. For Eddie. Because he asked.

“Stop,” he said again, watching as Steve’s eyebrows pinched in confusion. He finally put his hand down, standing in the kitchen with his arms at his sides.

“Stop… what?” He asked, and of course he didn’t know, he didn’t know why his desperate need to help, to comfort, to ease Eddie’s worries were just clawing at him with every word, digging into his skin like thorns and dragging, dragging, dragging until his insides were torn to ribbons.

You haven’t told him how you feel yet, have you?

“Stop acting like this, this perfect guy who outshines everyone else.”

A wobbly smile stretched over Steve’s face, mistaking Eddie’s distress for his typical dramatics. He looked like he wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or roll his eyes, not understanding that Eddie was serious because he didn’t know, he didn’t know.

“I want you to stop being nice to me.”

Steve squinted his eyes, “This feels like a trap, is this a trap?”

“No.” Eddie was shaking his head, clearing it out to make room for what he wanted to say, what he needed to say. He needed to put distance between him and Steve, he needed to go help Wayne and take that time to break this stupid crush and maybe, maybe, when he came back he’d be able to act normal around Steve again. “No, this isn’t a trap.”

“Okay… Well, I’m not sure how to stop being nice to you–”

“Well you need to figure it out. You need to– to be meaner, because I can’t keep going out and meeting guys and comparing them to you because they’re not you, they’re nothing like you. And I can’t keep going on dates and wishing they were over so I can just come home and hang out with you and Robin, and I can’t keep coming home to some girl's shoes by the door and pretending that doesn’t kill me just a little bit.”

Steve looked adrift in their kitchen, untethered and unsure. This wasn’t Eddie’s normal dramatics, this wasn’t Eddie throwing out a backhanded compliment to Steve, this wasn’t a ‘god, Harrington, you’re so perfect it must be exhausting’ with a laugh and a wink. This was Eddie in genuine distress, like the call about Wayne had snapped some kind of barrier between him and everything he’d been holding back.

“What are you saying?”

You haven’t told him how you feel yet–

“I love you.”

He blinked.

It was out.

He said it.

“I love you, I’m in love with you. Not like the way you love Robin or Dustin or how I love Wayne,” his voice cracked on his uncle’s name, the panic about hearing ‘he had a heart attack’ still fresh in the air, still squeezing his lungs. 

“I love you, so–,” he chokes on his words, trying desperately to hold back the flood of tears that threaten to burst; he has to say it, he has to say it, and then he can leave, he can go to Wayne and he can take a few days to figure out what to do after he just crushed his whole life into pieces, “–so you gotta stop being nice to me, or you gotta fall in love with me, because I can’t do this anymore.”

And Steve did exactly what Eddie expected him to do. He stood. He stared. He looked at Eddie like his brain had paused and he was being wholly rewired just to turn back on again, like he mentally needed to smack the connection back online or wiggle the antenna.

The kitchen felt like it was closing in as he watched Steve blink back to himself, and then glance around the room as he thought of what to say, as he thought of how to let Eddie down gently.

Eddie didn’t want to be let down gently. He didn’t want the pity or the shame or the guilt that was no doubt swimming in Steve’s head as he tried to think of a nice way, a sweet way to ease Eddie’s confession away because Eddie knew, he knew, that Steve wasn’t going to reciprocate. The sad glint to his eyes and the pinched corners of his lips told Eddie all he needed to know.

“I…” he sighed, still desperately avoiding Eddie’s eye contact. “I mean… I’m not… I’m sor–”

“I know,” Eddie whispered back. He didn’t want to hear the stuttered, stilted apology. He had nothing to apologize for, this was all Eddie’s fault. “I know, you don’t have to say anything, I just… I had to tell you.”

“It’s not that I don’t like you, Eddie, I’m just not… I don’t… I’m not into dudes that way–”

“Steve, seriously, please don’t say anything. It’s not going to make this any better, and I just… I don’t want to hear it right now, okay? So, just… Let me leave and take care of Wayne and I’ll come back in a few days and we can just forget about it.”

The other man looked like he wanted to argue, to say something else, to keep apologizing and explaining and assuring Eddie that it wasn’t him, it was Steve and that was the absolute last thing he wanted to hear. So, he turned on his heel and walked back to his room to pack a small bag, leaving Steve in the center of the kitchen with his mouth agape, spatula still in hand.

He was still standing there when Eddie passed, grabbing his coat and shoving his feet into the work boots he’d left scattered next to Steve’s sneakers. The space would be empty again for any high heels that wanted to stop by, and Eddie wouldn’t have to be here to see it. He knew that Steve would call Robin immediately, that she’d know Eddie opened his big stupid mouth and took her advice and that it backfired exactly the way Eddie had told her it would. She’d probably call the trailer at some point, and he’d wallow with her then. Right now, though, he had an uncle to take care of.

The drive was shorter than he’d remembered — a couple hours south of their apartment — and Eddie was thankful there wasn’t any solid traffic he had to wade through. He didn’t think the drive would end well if he had to sit in his van and wallow in his own head. The music blasting through his speakers could only drown out his thoughts for so long.

All-in-all, he did make it to Forest Hills without bursting into tears on the way, so Eddie counted that as a win. Though, the second Wayne opened the door for him, looking tired and a bit more harried that he had the last time they’d seen each other, the dam couldn’t hold the water works back any longer. He felt a little bad, having his uncle console him even though it should have been the other way around — it was Eddie’s turn to take care of Wayne, that was the whole point of being here. Still, he was distraught enough that it overwrote his guilt, and he just sank into his uncle’s hold, instead. Wayne dealt with it the way he always did, patting Eddie’s back and mumbling soft and gruff that he was fine, Eddie was fine, everything would be okay.

When Wayne told him something would be okay, it always felt more real than when he said it to himself.

After the crying session, Eddie insisted that Wayne sit down in his recliner and take it easy, that Eddie was here to let him rest for a bit and take care of things. He’d learned a lot by living with someone who cooked so frequently, graduated from someone who only knew how to boil hotdogs and follow directions on the back of a box, to someone who actually knew how to cobble together a respectable salad. Wayne scoffed at first. Eddie and salad had never really been paired in the same sentence, but he was an adult, and he could take care of his uncle’s diet for a few days, goddammit, he could. He would. He’d be the best goddamn caretaker this side of the Mississippi River had ever seen, regardless of his own mental state.

And his mental state was rough. Taking care of someone was a good distraction, though. He’d called the shop the second he got to Wayne’s and told them he’d need a few days off for family reasons. His boss, Tom, was always pretty understanding, probably the most understanding boss that Eddie had ever had, and he insisted that Eddie call back and take more days if he needed them.

“Lord knows my nephew could use a few more days of responsibility to knock some screws into place,” he’d muttered over the line.

Wayne wasn’t exactly thrilled to be waited on hand and foot, though. He’d always been a laid back sort of guy, but only in the way that he’d take what life gave him and go with it, make the most of whatever it was, and let the rest wash off of him like water off a duck’s back.

“I’m not some helpless little princess, Eds, I can still make my own damn coffee.”

“Actually you can’t,” Eddie whistled from the kitchen, stirring some honey into the steaming mug on the counter. He held back a smile at Wayne’s put-out grimace as he rounded the kitchen counter and made his way to the recliner.

“Well what the hell is this, then?”

“Tea!” he chirped, darting back to the kitchen before Wayne could do anything drastic like trip him in retaliation. “It’s good for you, your doctor said no caffeine and I haven’t been able to go to the store for decaf yet.”

“Pfft,” Wayne mumbled, “Decaf.”

Eddie could hear the eyeroll in his tone, but he wanted Wayne around for a long time, and he wasn’t going to let the stubborn bastard take himself out of this world with a damn cup of coffee. He could drink the tea, and Eddie would go over the list of foods that Wayne’s doctor had left him with. He needed to grocery shop, because Wayne was supposed to relax as much as possible.

The trailer was nearly the same as he’d left it, the only difference being that Wayne had his room back. Eddie had taken all of his clothes and posters and knick-knacks when he moved to Indy with Steve and Robin, leaving Wayne in peace with his own space returned to him.

Though Wayne probably didn’t think of it that way, it was hard for Eddie to see it any differently. It was Wayne’s trailer to begin with, and it was generous of him to give Eddie the only private room, but Wayne deserved his own comforts at this point in his life. And that included being waited on hand and foot when he was sick, despite his protests.

He called out to Wayne once he collected the doctor’s list of ‘heart healthy foods’, and made his way to the store. Of course, returning to the town that tried running you out of it came with a… not unnoticeable amount of stares and whispers. He tried ignoring it as he wandered down the isles, tried to look calm and collected as he grabbed shit like whole wheat bread, and plain cheerios. His cart looked like he’d stolen it from one of the mothers yelling about satanic panic by the time he was done. Eddie didn’t think he’d bought this many vegetables in his life.

The teenage girl at the checkout counter paid him no mind as she scanned his items, bubblegum popping like she was hired straight from the background of a daytime sitcom. The line of three suburban moms behind him, however, were not as unconcerned. There was something absurd about hearing the continued accusations of satanism as he loaded bags of low-fat yogurt and kale back into his cart. At this point, it felt like he could be rescuing kittens from a tree and still catch dirty whispers about him putting them up there in the first place.

He couldn’t wait to get the fuck back out of Hawkins.

Of course, that’s when he remembered exactly what was waiting for him outside of Hawkins. And you know, maybe being the poster child for Satan himself wasn’t that bad, maybe it was even a calling, maybe he’d find it endearing after a few days or weeks or months. Maybe Wayne would grow to like being a couch potato and Eddie could be his butler permanently, you know? Give back to the community that raised him, and all that.

Eddie shook his head as he unloaded the grocery bags from his van, piling up his arms with every bag so he wouldn’t have to make two trips — even if that meant he was using every ounce of strength to make sure his arms didn’t fall off.

Wayne was still in his recliner, cup of tea empty despite his earlier complaining. He was watching some basketball game on the TV, and Eddie listened passively as he emptied the bags one by one. It was all familiar, like he was back home with Steve and he hadn’t shoved both his feet in his mouth before booking it out of the city. He didn’t know anything about the terms being flung around, or the people attached to those terms, but he could almost smell the dinner Steve had cooked the day before, and feel his fingers against his elbow. If he listened to the announcers drift in from the living room, he could almost feel the breath against his neck as Steve squeezed past him to the fridge.

He opened his eyes, unaware that he’d even closed them as the fantasy washed over him. And it was a fantasy, now, since he’d just fucked it all up. He shook his head, taking out the last item from his grocery bags and balling them up to put under the sink. He wondered, absently, if the bags felt at home nestled together inside a bigger bag or if they felt suffocated being squashed in together like that. Did they feel cradled or stifled? Maybe Eddie would feel cradled if he was surrounded by more people like him, people who understood him in a way that Steve couldn’t. Maybe they were just too different.

The ring of the phone on the wall pulled him from his thoughts. It drowned out the commentators on the TV as it rattled away, and for a second Eddie hesitated because what if it was Steve? What if he picked up the phone and it was Steve’s soft tenor voice that crackled through his ear, and made Eddie want to both drive the two hours back to Indianapolis and simultaneously dissolve into a puddle on his uncle’s floor?

“Boy, if you don’t get that damn phone, I will,” Wayne called from his armchair, and Eddie unstuck himself from his spot.

“Munson residence,” Eddie drawled, trying desperately to push away the anxiety from his voice, “We got felons, accused felons, or upstanding citizens, to whom may I direct your call?”

He could hear Wayne’s exasperated ‘ah, Christ’ as he tried to maintain his composure.

“So, you told him, then,” a distinctly non-Harrington voice crackled through the line. He sighed with his whole body, slumping against the wall.

“Robin this is all your fault, you’ve got some balls to call ‘round these parts, you hear?”

“Okay, can it, Houdini. I know you’re defaulting to humor because you’re stressed, but your little disappearing act has really freaked Steve out.” Eddie could practically hear her eyeroll through the phone, could picture her sprawled across her floral couch in her fuzzy ice-cream pyjamas as she pondered how else to ruin Eddie’s life.

“Freaked Steve out? Buck, I panicked! I’m still panicked! He did exactly what I told you I didn’t want to see. He tried apologizing, for Christ sake.”

Eddie slipped down the wall, tucking his feet underneath him on the cheap linoleum tiles. He pulled at the winding phone cord, twisting and twirling it around his finger as he waited for her to respond. He wondered how long Steve had waited until he called her, or if he just went straight to her apartment after Eddie left. Did he stand there in the kitchen for a while, at a loss for what to do? Did he think about following Eddie, or did he try to shove the confession completely from his mind?

Robin’s sigh crackled through the line. “Not that kind of freaked, Munson. I told him to think about it—“

“Have you considered maybe not telling people things from now on?”

“—And I’m sure he’s having a gay little crisis in that big empty apartment, all by himself.”

“Robs, it’s barely 800 square feet, I wouldn’t exactly call it big or empty.”

“That’s what you focus on? Not the big gay crisis?”

“If anyones having a crisis it’s me! I’m gonna have to find a new apartment, a new job, change my name, maybe even flee the country!”

“Okay, that’s a little much, even for you.”

“Nothing’s too much for me, Buck, I’m the definition of much.”

“That didn’t even make sense.”

He huffed out a breath, hitting his head against the wall behind him a couple times to try and knock some semblance of sense back into this conversation.

“Alright, listen. I know you think you’re some matchmaking messiah or whatever,” he could hear Robin scoff over the phone, “But I really, really don’t want to hear it right now. I have to focus on Wayne.”

Thankfully, after a small pause, Robin graced him with a change of topic. She clearly wanted to keep talking about Steve, though, and Eddie knew that she was just trying to be helpful, but he’d figure it out… eventually. He’d figure it out eventually, and that was not today. Probably not tomorrow, either.

She sighed, “So, how long are you gonna be back in Hawkins, then?”

“Eh, right now I’ve got until Tuesday, but… I don’t know Robs.”

He might take Tom up on his offer and call back requesting more days off. He just couldn’t stop thinking about that face Steve had made, lost and confused in the middle of their kitchen, his arm raised like the confession had shut his brain off entirely. He could hear the stilted apology that he’d cut off, because that was the last thing he needed from Steve — an apology for just being who he was, an apology for something he couldn’t control, something he didn’t ever have to apologize for because it wasn’t his fault. He could imagine the same face greeting him at the door once he finally gathered the courage to go back to their apartment, wide eyes looking for something to say to make it right. He didn’t want to see it; he didn’t want to hear it.

“So, if I don’t hear from you in two days, can I send over a search party?” Robin cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to Wayne’s kitchen, and not the one back in Indy.

He knew the party were still in their senior year, he was planning on catching up with Dustin at some point while he was back. He’d need to do that before Robin called any of them, though, just to prove he wasn’t the sad sack she made him out to be.

He was. To be clear, he was the sad sack she made him out to be.

The party didn’t need to know that, though.

“Yeah, yeah, call in reinforcements. I’m fine, I just need a few days to, like… think things through.”

“You’ve been thinking too long, Doofus. Just, don’t go thinking yourself into any holes, okay?”

“Well, there’s one hole I could–”

“Okay, bye!” she shouted before he finished deflecting with a dirty joke. He always knew how to get under people’s skin, it was a talent he’d honed for decades.

He let the phone hang, resting it on his shoulder as he continued playing with the curling cord. He could hear the dial tone droning on faintly by his ear, and he sat on the tacky linoleum, listening and worrying the cord between his fingers until the dial tone had dug its way into his eardrum.

He sighed, planting his feet more firmly on the ground to pull himself back up. He put the phone back into its cradle with a soft plastic click, and made his way into the living room.

The couch sank underneath him, years of use wearing it down until it was both perfectly soft and lumpy with uncomfortable springs. It was like a hug from someone you love, with really boney elbows. If the rest of Hawkins wasn’t waiting outside the door, he’d stay here indefinitely.

“You done usin’ me as an excuse, now?” Wayne’s voice grumbled out next to him. He was reclined back in his chair, feet kicked up with a small hole on the heel of his sock. His eyes were still trained on the television, but Eddie knew he didn’t imagine the question directed toward him.

“I’m not using you as an excuse, old man.”

Wayne chucked, though his face was blank, and reached out for his mug, setting it down once more when he remembered it was empty. Eddie made a move to get up, to refill it, but his uncle waved him back down.

“I know you’re here to help, but you don’t gotta push away yer friends to do it, kid.”

He never really knew what to say when Wayne went into parent mode. It was nice, and Eddie knew he needed it sometimes, but he never really grew up with it. It wasn’t until the start of high school that Eddie had moved in with Wayne, and by that time he was used to parents bailing at any opportunity, or just pretending he didn’t exist. He was used to staying up late by himself, and pretending he owned the place just to make it feel a little less lonely that there was no one in the other room. He was used to the occasional call just to ask if he was up for helping on a ‘job’, and then the dial tone if he said no. He was used to Al Munson.

He wasn’t used to the calculating eyes that were only calculating how to help. He wasn’t used to the silence that preceded genuine understanding, and the desire to find out what Eddie needed to get off his chest. Wayne was always there to hold Eddie’s hand through his worries, to give advice about anything he didn’t understand. Eddie wasn’t used to that when he moved into the little trailer, and he didn’t think he’d ever be used to it, even now.

“I’m not trying to push my friends away,” he answered, instead of saying the other things that were running through his head.

“Just Steve, then?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, sinking further into the faded couch. Were all parents this perceptive? Or was this just a Wayne specialty?

“I know somethin’ happened t’make you drive all the way down here–”

“Uh, yeah, you had a heart attack–”

“–But it shouldn’t keep you down here, s’all I’m sayin’,” Wayne nodded his head, as if that was that. But it wasn’t, because even without Steve, Eddie would have booked it to Hawkins. Even if everything was fine, and he hadn’t made a fool of himself in that stupid little kitchen — even if he was dating Steve, for Christs’ sake, he would have dropped everything to drive down here, and if his van crapped out on him he would have hitchhiked to do it, too. Maybe he was paying special attention to the food lists and doctor instructions, and maybe he was focusing a little more on cleaning up and making Wayne comfortable, and holding himself back from ripping the nosey suburban moms a new one, maybe he was doing that to keep his mind off of Steve and his hovering hand and his sad eyes, but he was here because he loved Wayne.

“Wayne, I’m here for you, alright? I’m here because… because you’re the only dad I’ve got s’far as I’m concerned, and I need you to be okay.”

If Wayne had heard the little crack in his voice, he didn’t comment on it, but the misty haze in his eye that he blinked away told Eddie that he had. Yeah, he was distracting himself from Steve, but that had nothing to do with making sure Wayne was okay.

“Well, I, uh…” he cleared his throat, turning back to the game on the screen, “I ‘preciate you, kid.”

Eddie nodded, because that was that, and he got back to his feet to bring Wayne’s mug to the kitchen for a refill. He’d bought decaf coffee at the store, and Wayne deserved it, even if it wasn’t really what he wanted at the moment.

He spent the next two days doing much of the same. He cleaned Wayne’s room, cleaned the kitchen, used up the leafy greens for a few salads that Wayne insisted he hated, even though he cleared the plates. He wished he knew how to make the soups that Steve did when he was sick, but he wasn’t about to call and ask. Robin didn’t call again, though Eddie could practically feel her hovering by the phone two hours away.

He stared at the phone, sometimes, just imagining what it would be like to call their apartment and hear Steve’s voice. He’d probably sound relieved, happy that Eddie had checked in, though once that excitement bled out of his system, he knew it would be awkward again. He didn’t want to stand there and listen to the cracking electricity through the line, as Steve tried to figure out what to say. He hated not knowing how to talk to Steve. He’d never once been speechless in his presence, never once looked into his eyes at a loss for what to say. He hated it.

He contemplated calling Tom back, too, and asking for Wednesday and Thursday off, just to delay the inevitable. That was closer to happening than him calling Steve.

The dishes in the sink were piled up from an attempt at the grilled chicken parmesan that Steve made, but he’d fucked it up in the end and burned the sauce. They still ate the chicken, but it made Eddie miss the before — before he opened his mouth, and halted everything in its tracks; before he obsessed over Robin’s words, and blurted everything out; before he cut Steve off, didn’t let him finish talking, and fled from the whole city.

Whatever happened to not running anymore? When did Eddie throw that away again, just to disappear the second things got difficult?

He called Tom and asked for Wednesday off, too.

The next day, the dishes were still in the sink, and the groceries were down to just cereal and yogurt. He should have spent more time with Steve in the kitchen; he should have paid attention to recipes and figured out how to do things for himself without Steve around. He’d been self-reliant for so long, he hadn’t realized when he became dependent on another person again, until it was too late.

He sighed – he seemed to be doing that a lot lately – and handed Wayne a new mug.

“I’m gonna go back to the store, okay? Then I think I’ll stop by the Henderson’s or Wheeler’s to say ‘hi’, since it’s been a while.”

Wayne nodded, taking the tea without complaint. “That’ll be good for ya, see someone besides your old man.”

“I’ll be back around five, probably, just so you’re not wondering.”

Wayne grumbled an affirmative, and Eddie took his leave. He had more of an idea what to buy this time, avoiding the things he’d already fucked up cooking and grabbing more simple snacks. The suburban moms still gave him a wide berth, though their whispered gossip still made its way to his ears. He knew they were aware of Wayne’s heart attack, it wasn’t exactly a secret with high security clearance, and this was a small-as-fuck town — and yet somehow, Eddie coming to take care of his sick uncle wasn’t worth any praise to the Stepford Wives. No, only scrutiny was reserved for the Munsons.

He missed Steve.

He didn’t end up seeing any of the kids, either. Maybe Robin was right, though he’d never tell her that. Maybe he was a sad sack that needed saving. He drove to the park, instead of subjecting some poor kid to his shitty mood, leaving the bags of groceries in the car as he trudged his way to the swingset. It was surprisingly empty on a Wednesday, though he supposed it was just barely after school hours. There was also a playground at the elementary school, so maybe this one wasn’t used as much in general.

Either way, he let the breeze pass him by as he scuffed his shoes into the dirt. He should probably call Robin back before she really did call in the party to drag him out of Hawkins. Maybe Steve had figured out what to say by now. Maybe five days was enough time to ignore the giant gay elephant in the room. Did he want to ignore it, though?

Kind of.

But he also didn’t. Robin was right again (though he’d seriously never tell her). The confession was a long time coming, and Eddie should have done it months ago. He should have just sucked it up and said it the second he realized, just so he could squash it early and they could get back to normal. He wanted Steve’s hand in his hair again. He wanted to watch shitty movies on Robin’s trash couch again, all squished together on the two-seater as if they belonged to one body. He wanted to come home and smell Steve’s cooking.

Wayne had a check-up the next weekend, one he’d already insisted several times that he had a ride to, and Eddie didn’t need to be there for. He kind of felt… untethered, in the middle of the playground with his feet swinging idly. It was nice out, the breeze was warmer than it had been for a while, and it didn’t make him feel any better. He was glad Wayne was okay, obviously, but he kind of wished the old man would ask him to stay. Eddie didn’t even want to stay in Hawkins, but he wanted to feel like he was needed somewhere.

Maybe this was how Wayne felt all those years Eddie yelled about ditching Hawkins at the first opportunity. Maybe this was payback.

He shook the stale thoughts from his head, remembering there were a few dairy products in his van and he should probably get back to the trailer to unload them. He was probably ready to go back to Indianapolis tomorrow, probably ready to face the music, as it were.

Wayne wasn’t in his recliner when Eddie got back, but he did hear the tap running and dishes clacking in the kitchen sink.

“What did I tell you, old man? Leave the dishes to me,” he grumbled, kicking his sneakers off as he juggled the grocery bags. They rustled in his arms as he gracelessly fought his way to the kitchen, bags piled high to once again avoid a second trip.

They all nearly toppled to the floor when he saw Steve at the sink, a stack of dishes already in the drying rack as he scrubbed another.

He wanted to swear at god himself, if he believed in any of that crap. He said he was probably ready to go home, not be ambushed in Wayne’s kitchen with his arms full of groceries. He didn’t even know what to do. He kind of felt like running again, feet itching to move and get him as far away as possible, but he couldn’t exactly run to the car with all the bags in his arms. They called his attention, nearly cutting off the circulation at his wrists as they begged to be put down somewhere, anywhere.

Steve was just as frozen, though he must have heard Eddie come through the door. He still had a cup in his hand, suds dripping from his fingers as he paused to watch Eddie malfunction in his presence.

“Hi,” he said eloquently, putting the cup back in the sink and wiping his hands on the towel hanging from the stove handle. 

“Uh,” Eddie added helpfully. He glanced at the empty kitchen table, feeling like his arms would break if he held onto the grocery bags any longer, and yet weirdly feeling like they were the only things between him and Steve, like the glass panel at a prison visiting center.

He swallowed around his pride and the lump in his throat, and carefully placed each bag on the table, one by one. Steve was still staring at him as he finished. Just an hour ago, he could have sworn he was ready to talk, to move past this weirdness between them, and yet faced with the man of the hour, his words all dried up on his tongue.

He was still fiddling with one of the plastic bag handles, tearing off the loose tags in the plastic to avoid looking at the man in front of him.

“Wayne’s across the street,” he offered, gesturing to the door. Eddie nodded. “I’m… uh. I brought a couple different bowls of soup and a casserole. I wasn’t really sure what things Wayne liked, but I tried to go for something more classic, just in case. And, uh, I figured I could wash some dishes while I waited for you. I mean, Wayne didn’t seem to mind, so–”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie cut him off. He seemed nervous, shuffling from foot to foot, wringing his hands out now that they were empty of dishes. It was the awkward silence he was dreading, the stuttered responses and stilted words. Steve sighed, looking back at the sink longingly, like he’d rather be slaving away just to avoid Eddie’s eyes.

“I’ve been thinking…,” Steve trailed off, shoe scuffing against the linoleum.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Robin called?” He looked up, meeting Eddie’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, glancing at the phone like she’d somehow know he was talking about her.

“What… uh… what did she say?”

“Mostly just called us idiots,” he lied.

“Yeah, she’s… she’s been doing a lot of that.”

Steve went quiet again, sneaker still scuffing along the kitchen floor. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to say something, and then clicked it shut again. God, the silence made Eddie feel like he was full of ants, crawling up and down his legs and wiggling between his toes.

“Steve, you don’t have to make any of this better, okay? It isn’t something that needs to be fixed.”

“I didn’t know,” Steve blurted out, suddenly still in the kitchen like he had been that day in their apartment. His hands were still clasped together, and his foot was still pointed like he wanted to keep grinding it into the tile, but he was still, unmoving. Just his eyes darted back and forth as he looked at Eddie.

“I know, that was kind of the point, Steve,” he sighed, crossing his arms. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“No, I mean, I didn’t know you could like both,” Steve corrected, swallowing. Eddie could hear the click of his dry throat as he did it. “I didn’t know.”

Eddie wasn’t really sure what he meant by that. He glanced to the sink, a pesky water drop dripping into an empty pot, and then looked back down at the grocery bags on the table. He didn’t really know what to ask to clarify, either.

Steve grumbled, like he was frustrated with himself for his choice of words. He was always mad he couldn’t make the right ones come naturally, like Eddie could. But Eddie could only think of the right words when it didn’t matter, when it wasn’t important.

“I only ever liked girls, Eddie. I mean…”

Was this it? Was this the start of the rejection Eddie knew was coming? Steve liked girls, Steve had always liked girls, Steve didn’t like Eddie.

“I thought that liking girls meant that I couldn’t like you, because I didn’t know you could like both,” he emphasized again. Steve stepped forward, dropping his hands to his sides.

Eddie… thought he knew what he was saying. He thought he understood what those words meant, but it was so far out of left field that it didn’t make sense, it was so far past what he’d ever hoped to hear that he was more convinced he was hallucinating than anything else.

“Do you know how many times I brought girls over wishing they were you?”

Eddie blinked. He shook his head. He wasn’t sure he understood English anymore.

Steve took another step forward.

“I don’t want to stop being nice to you.”

He said it with weight, like it meant something, like he was saying something else, and Eddie couldn’t quite put his finger on it — couldn’t read between the lines when he wasn’t even sure he could read in the first place anymore.

He took another step forward, and Eddie had the irrational urge to throw one of the grocery bags at him to keep some distance. He wasn’t prepared for this, he wasn’t ready for this, he didn’t even know what this was, really.

“You said… you said I should either stop being nice to you, or fall in love with you,” he repeated, “and I don’t want to stop being nice to you, Eddie.”

Steve took another step forward, reaching out for Eddie’s hand, and he couldn’t help but compare it to the day he bolted. Instead of stunned and stuttering, frozen in place, Steve looked determined and sure of himself. His eyes weren’t wide with confusion or darting around for a way out, or a way to turn Eddie down that wouldn’t crush him. He stared at Eddie with a sharp focus, still reaching out to touch, but not afraid of the contact. He was so close, only a couple inches between them, and Eddie shook his head to dislodge the barrage of Steve, Steve, Steve running through his brain.

He took a step back, hip hitting the rounded corner of the kitchen table, but his hand didn’t slip from the other man’s grip. He needed space to get his thoughts in order, because he didn’t have any when he was standing this close to Steve.

“I’m not sure you really know what you’re agreeing to right now.”

Steve shook his head, still holding onto Eddie’s hand, grip tight like he was afraid Eddie would run again.

“I do, I know exactly what—”

“I want to have sex with you,” he blurted, snapping back to himself at Steve’s confused blinking. He took a breath, trying to collect himself so he didn’t fuck this up any further, so he could explain to Steve what being nice to him meant, so he didn’t just take Steve at face value and grab onto him desperately, without him knowing the full picture.

“I don’t just want you to be nice to me. I don’t just want everything to go back to how it was, I don’t want to freak you out when you realize how gone on you I am,” he said, begged. He took another breath, wrapping it around his lungs like a blanket and fortifying his resolve. He stepped back into Steve’s space. The hand around his slackened but didn’t let go.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, flicking his eyes down to Steve’s lips and noticed with a thrill of satisfaction that Steve did the same. “I want to hold you,” he took another step forward, nearly chest to chest. He could feel Steve’s heartbeat though the soft cotton of his T-shirt, pounding away like it was trying to escape this time.

Steve was still staring at his lips, and with the beating of his frantic heart, Eddie started to believe maybe he did know what he was getting into. Maybe Robin was right, again — Jesus Christ — and Steve really had been freaking out through a sexuality crisis for the past few days. All by himself in their big, empty apartment.

That didn’t sound like the start of a porno when Robin had said it, but now? With Steve looking at him like that? His eyes dark and eyelids drooping with unconcealed desire, still focused on Eddie’s lips like the thought to look away hadn’t even crossed his mind. He licked his lips. Steve tracked the motion, and deliriously Eddie thought of a lion in a nature documentary, stalking its prey. What he wouldn’t give to see Steve drooling over him.

“I want to touch you,” he continued to whisper, the air in the trailer dense and heavy, squeezing around them like the walls themselves were pushing them together. He couldn’t quite tell which one was being trapped anymore, he or Steve. Steve’s palms were starting to sweat. Eddie swallowed.

“I want to hear you moan underneath me, like those girls you brought home.”

He was so close he could feel Steve’s knees nearly buckle, his hand gripping tighter against Eddie’s to keep his balance. He swallowed, blinking back to himself, eyes drifting sluggishly to Eddie’s and away from his mouth.

“Can I be nice to you, now?” Steve whispered, so quiet that Eddie wouldn’t have heard him at all, if there was any space left between them.

The air was so heavy, dripping around them like molasses and he couldn’t get the words back out of his throat. He barely dipped his head in a nod before Steve pushed forward, the screech of the cheap metal table legs only background noise as Eddie was crowded against the wall. His lips were warm, just like Eddie had imagined so many times, soft and sweet. He’d pictured these lips taking him apart in their apartment, on his bed, on Robin’s old floral couch, in the grocery store every time Steve grabbed one of his favorites. Favorites, favorites, favorites; these lips were his favorite.

He could hear the soft breaths escaping Steve’s mouth, feel the hot air against his lips — another favorite. Steve’s hand let go of his, fitting against his hips like he’d already carved out a place for them in Eddie’s skin, perfectly molded to grab and hold and never let go. He could barely grasp onto any fleeting thought floating through his head, all so intangible and opaque, like a mirage drifting in and out of view. But Steve’s lips were an oasis, and Eddie was desperate to drink him in — catalogue every noise and feeling and taste like a new collection of favorites that only Steve could provide. This was infinitely better than chasing any last remnant of Steve on the filter of the joints they shared, better than the passing slide of Steve’s hand on his shoulder or his back as he passed.

He was so preoccupied by the feeling of Steve’s everything sliding and gripping and licking and sighing and clicking into place like a missing piece, he didn’t hear the creak of the step outside, missed the rusted rasp of the handle as it turned just around the corner.

“Well, I’m glad ya’ll’ve figured yourselves out, but it’s a small trailer and I was hopin’ for a beer if you don’t mind.”

After sharing the same space, the two steps back that Steve rapidly took — a sheepish, panicked smile on his face — felt like an entire continent. Eddie gripped tightly onto his hand so he couldn’t get far.

Wayne was standing to the side, face blank but Eddie could still see the twinkle in his eye — like interrupting was a form of entertainment — and he knew the excuse was a lie. The old fart probably just wanted to see their faces being caught red handed. Wayne couldn’t even have beer right now.

“I do mind, actually,” Eddie said, gathering his wits faster than Steve, “The doc said a month, old man, you’re not weaseling a beer outta me.”

Wayne shook his head, muttering about being treated like a flower, and snagged one of the trucker hats from the wall before heading back to the front door. Fucker didn’t even need to get past them, Eddie knew what he was about, he could read that old man like the back of his hand.

“Goin’ for a walk with Fred, don’t wait up,” he called out before making his way back to the neighbors.

“Is that alright?” Steve asked, pointing at where Wayne had just been.

“Yeah, the doc said he should start doing light exercise and they mostly just gossip, anyway. They’re almost worse than the suburban moms.”

“No I mean…,” he stumbled over what to say, looking back and forth between the door and Eddie and their hands clasped together and oh, his eyes were still a little panicked.

“Oh yeah, totally, Wayne’s known about me since middle school, he’s not gonna say anything.” Eddie paused, thinking back to the twinkle in his eye, “Actually I’m more than certain he set that up in the first place.”

Why else would he have let Steve do the dishes alone while he made himself scarce? He’d probably seen Eddie’s van return, and waited a few minutes before checking on them like some fucked up puppeteer, pulling their strings behind the scenes. He was a sneak and a weasel and Eddie loved him more than anything.

He glanced up at Steve — hand still pointed to where Wayne was — and caught his eye once more. His cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, and it hit him all at once that he could have that, he could have Steve. The other man smiled at him, and Eddie could feel all the worry and anxiety crash to the ground like a wave, pulling away from him in the high tide of Steve’s happiness. And he did look happy, flushed and alive, and so relaxed in the trailer that Eddie had called home for so long.

He didn’t have to keep his distance anymore, didn’t have to pretend that Steve’s hand on his shoulder or brushing against his lower back was anything less than revolutionary, and he didn’t have to stop himself from wrapping his arms around the man and holding on tight. He squeezed the hand still grasped in his, and revelled in the firm squeeze he received back.

“Do you want to help me make dinner, or do you have other plans?” Steve asked, no longer whispering, but no less intimate in the small space they shared. He wiggled his eyebrows like a dork and Eddie felt like he could burst.

“I can think of a few things to do,” he smirked, pulling on Steve’s hand to urge him forward, but only if he wanted, only if he took the step to do it himself.

Steve chuckled, looking down to Eddie’s hand like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and that would have made Eddie panic, before. Before he’d made a fool of himself, and before he’d run from the apartment, and before Steve came all the way to Hawkins just to get him back, and before Steve was his to tug and grip and hold onto. Now, he just felt the same. Like he’d wake up any second and be back on their couch, half-smoked joint in the ashtray and a campy John Waters movie dancing away on the TV screen.

He caught Steve’s eye again and the man relented, stepping forward to crowd Eddie back against the wall, leaning forward to claim his lips again, slower this time. It wasn’t hurried and frantic like it had been just moments ago, it was sweet and gentle and indulgent and Eddie added another favorite to his list. He was sure there would be more favorites to come — favorite ways to hold, and favorite ways to spend time, and favorite ways to annoy Robin and make her regret ever pushing them together. He smiled against Steve’s lips.

They could go on lunch dates to the deli that Steve found, and take the kids to the game shop, and melt together like the ice cream Steve grabbed whenever he wanted to make Eddie’s day. They could cook without Eddie worrying about being too much, or too obvious, or too awkward, and he’d never have to see another shitty pair of high heels where his shoes were supposed to be, taking up space next to Steve’s.

He couldn’t wait to start collecting favorites.

—

Bingo Prompts

[creampie-capital]

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ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ/ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ║Haikyuu

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ║11,893 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

What kind of man would steal your heart?

Would he be a charmer? A man who knew just what to say? A flatterer that would make sure you felt like the most gorgeous person in the world?

Or maybe he'd be a little shy, a sweet man who'd blush at accidentally holding hands. Would he get flustered when you stared at him a little too long? Perhaps he'd even feel like he were on cloud nine if you graced him with a kiss. 

He should be sweet and savory, a fine dining meal that you could just eat up.

It was fun to imagine and entertaining to dream of it. You couldn't help it that you were a hopeless romantic, in love with the idea of love, consumed by the thought of being with your other half. 

What would it feel like to find the one that makes the whole world revolve around them? You've thought about it many times, wouldn't it be wonderful? Wouldn't it be the most earth-shattering moment that made your entire world start to revolve around them?

How nice, how fun it was to think that. 

All of that imagining and fantasizing turned out to be a crude joke when you've come to the realization that the man who doesn't want you is, in fact, the one you can't let go. 

The man stuck in your thoughts, unable to just go away...is the same man who barely even holds a conversation with you when the sun is up. 

It feels sickening, nearly rancid on your tongue, like he's a dirty secret when he only comes over in the dark. Filthy, you feel filthy when you let go of all your dignity and give in to him without any hesitation. 

Letting go of your pride and disregarding your dignity, you take the scraps he gives you with love-struck appreciation. 

You take it so willingly, accepting the bare minimum because you're just so grateful for what little he throws your way. 

This isn't it; this isn't what you spent all that time envisioning what your dream man would be like. He'd love you! He'd sacrifice everything for you! He'd show you off because he's just so proud that you're his. 

Yet you're played with by falling in love with a man who is entirely opposite to what you've dreamed. 

And he just has to be the father of your baby. 

Unable to hold up your weight, you collapsed to your knees in the bathroom. It's so hot; you're sweating, and your skin is so sizzling, that you feel like tearing it off and emerging as just bones. 

Oh, god(s)! This is a cruel joke! This is some f*cking divine intervention for playing with fire. They just had to throw something at you as punishment for playing with a man who didn't want you. 

"(Y/n)! You've been in there since, like, forever!" Ceinwen, one of your roommates, bellows from outside as she pounds on the bathroom door. "The Delta sorority is having a party, and it's open to everyone on campus! I can't miss this!" 

Oh yeah, what simple things to be worried about. It would be nice to stress about what pink bra to wear and not how you're going to provide for a whole nother human being. 

"Give me..." You're struck with a wave of nausea, feeling your entire stomach stir and your esophagus tense. Hunching over the toilet, you audible breathe in and out as saliva pools in your mouth. "...Give me a second." 

Another bang that spurs your head to throb physically. "Eww! You better not be sick! That's so gross." Meara, another roommate, bellows, and you can practically see her scrunched face in disgust. 

Ugh, they can be so irritating sometimes! Somehow, you were able to force yourself to your feet and yank the door open. The woman dressed as how happy little sl*t's should be during their college days, stares back at you curiously. "Unless you two get pregnant, you can't get this sickness!" 

They gasp audibly, their entire bodies leaning back from the shock as they stare wide-eyed. "Oh, my god." Ceinwen, the short brunette, muttered under her breath. "That's a real bummer, but we need the bathroom." 

You almost laugh, almost, yet the situation is already starting to weigh heavy on you. "Knock yourselves out." Replying, you step back to grab your phone and the pregnancy tests before brushing past them to the stairs. 

The two girls' bedrooms were on the second floor, and yours was on the third. You had that all to yourself, which was nice, but now you don't know if you'll be able to stay here much longer.

You just can't. This place isn't somewhere to raise a kid; parties are just downstairs every other day. You have roommates who bring home strangers nearly every night. 

Filling your mouth with air and blowing it out with a sigh, you try to collect your thoughts. Oh god(s), this is really happening. You took several tests from different brands, and all stare you right back in the face with a bright 'positive!'. 

But why do you have to suffer!? Why is it your fault that you have horrible reactions to birth control and have to stay reliant either on condoms or Plan B!? 

Another sigh. 

You thought you were so careful. Weren't you so adamant about him wrapping it up?

When was it?

Why are you even trying to figure it out? What's done is done; your body is no longer just yours anymore; you house a growing fetus. 

And it's his baby of all people, Kei Tsukishima's. 

Falling back on your bed, you hold closed fist against your eyes as you feel them swell with tears. You hate yourself for being scared to tell him if that means he's going to disappear from your life. That shouldn't be your fear; you have to care for his baby, and you have to put them above a man. 

But you cannot help but mourn the delusions of finding the love of your life. The responsibility of caring for another will be the dominant obligation. Your own dreams and goals will have to be put on the back burner just so you can care and provide a healthy childhood for your child. 

Pregnancy is such a tremendous responsibility, a burden even. And although you've taken the possibility of pregnancy seriously, you've still skirted on that fine line. You f*cked around and are now finding out.

With another sigh and a sniffle, you manage to sit up again and grab your phone to see your notifications. A few emails from your classes, some IG messages from your friends, and a single text from the man himself. 

◤ Bane of My Existence I'm gonna come over after drinks with the team. ◢

"Oh, yeah?" You whisper to yourself with a sneer. Every time he comes over after drinking with the team, he's not pissed drunk, but he is tipsy, which meant he was more adamant about sleeping together. 

Why was it that whenever he came to you inebriated by alcohol, did you see the glimmer of he could be? It's like his defensive walls were down, and he allowed himself to be slightly vulnerable.

You hated it just as much as you loved it. 

For that night, you could experience what it would feel like to be something other than a warm body. His touches were tender, his kisses so intimate. He said that made your face burn and made you feel like the only woman in the world. 

And then, after everything was said and done, he'd clean you all up and lay right back by your side. Sometimes, he was silent, just listening to you. Others, he would talk to you about literally anything.

Maybe he'd talk about his day, ranting about his courses or the astronomical amount of assignments he had. He might speak about his team or volleyball, recanting his days when he brought his high school team to nationals. 

Sometimes, he'd play a song and ask your opinion on it. Those were the moments where you made notes, sneaking reminders to check up on that artist just to have something to talk about with him. 

When he had his way with you, it's like the two of you were more than...whatever the two of you were. I mean, it had to mean more when he'd lay there, a hand on your hip as he held your gaze until you fell asleep.

You loved it, you loved feeling...loved. But that's why you hated it just as much: because the man he is during the night is not the same as the man you meet when the sun is up. 

That man is callous, snarky, even dry in his responses. He finds no importance in talking to you; he replies barely, probably just enough to keep you on the line. Communicating with that man feels as if you're grasping at strings, attempting everything and anything just to get him to look your way. 

Yet your relationship with each other is weird because not every time he comes over at night does he want to have s*x. Sometimes, he just sits at your desk and works on his classwork. He doesn't even talk to you, keeping his SOMY headphones on as he focuses on his laptop. 

He could do that anywhere, yet he invades your space while not even paying attention to you. And every time he does that, you just let him be and refrain from bothering him because you don't want him to feel disturbed. 

It's pathetic and embarrassing, and you know it, yet you still can't let him go. You're putting in all the work, taking the time to learn about his interests, and trying to make some form of relationship happen. 

And that gets tiring...and that gets draining...yet you can't let this man go. How can you love him so much? How can you put up with all this stress when the easiest solution would be to move on? How are you tolerating this fwb relationship when you want a boyfriend, a lover, something serious... official.

Guess your title has changed from 'the person I occasionally sleep with' now to just 'baby Mama.' It feels...derogatory. You mean more than that; you're worth more than that. Being pregnant wasn't something you planned at all until the future when you'd already be married to the love of your life. 

You'd already be living with the man you'd spend the rest of your life with when you've attained your degrees and have a steady career. Everything's a f*cking mess, and nothing is like you've dreamed of. 

Nothing you can do will change the fact you're pregnant, and the father isn't even someone that you think you can depend on. Well...maybe you're thinking too low of him. After everything he's done to you, the way he's treated you, the way he never wanted to go past the sleeping together, it was evident that you just weren't the one. 

Yet he feels just right to you.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

You spent the next few hours cleaning before showering and changing into a fresh set of loungewear. Because you were still nauseous and felt sickly, a trash bin was kept by your bed, just in case. 

During the rest of your free time, you tried to edit your schedule and figure out everything you would have to do to care for this child. You'd need to work more and save up for the money pit children tend to be. Emailing the museum where you worked, you explained the situation and how you needed more hours. 

There might not be much that they could do, so you'll probably have to get a second job, too. The courses you took in person will have to change to online, making the whole point of physically attending college useless. 

It could either be a fricken nightmare or tolerable considering it was your last year before graduating, and that all just depends on if you can handle...everything that's changing. 

Your phone lit up, the screen presenting your notification and Tsukishima's message. 

◤ Bane of My Existence Are ur roommates here? ◢

Is being seen with you really that bad?

◤ 75 XXX XXXX No, they went out to party. Bane of My Existence K I'm outside the building. I'll just walk in when I get up. ◢

What would it feel like to proudly welcome home your partner? Would it be comforting? Gratifying? Soothing? You wonder what it would feel like not to be just some dirty little secret. 

You can hear the front door squeak open before it's slammed shut. Your heart skips a beat, your fingers twitch, and you find it difficult to sit comfortably in your own bed. 

His steps approach up the stairs, slow and languid, with no urgency at all. He has no idea about the bomb that's about to be dropped on him. 

The handle jiggles to your bedroom door as it's opened, and the man himself steps through. His golden brown eyes find yours almost immediately, and the amount of dread that fills your stomach is enough to drown you right there. 

"It's hot in here." He murmurs in an almost monotonous tone as he pulls the black sweater off his torso to leave him in a large white shirt and thrust it on your desk chair. 

"It's actually rather cold." You mumble, leaning back against your headrest while crossing your arms underneath your chest. 

Tsukishima blows air out of his nose like some condescending laugh as if he thought a joke to himself that he didn't want to share. "I can already sense your attitude." His words have a slight mocking tone as he tilts his head away.

Oh, he has no idea what's coming his way. 

Emptying his things on your desk, he unbuckled his belt to step out of his pants and thrust it haphazardly on your chair. "What a long f*cking day." He groans as he strides closer to collapse on your bed. 

With his abnormally long limbs, he looks almost comically on your bed. His head is by your hip, his arms splayed out, and his legs hanging loosely off the ends. Now, with him being much closer, you can smell the bitter alcohol wafting off his breath and cigarette smoke, too.

"How much did you drink?" You question while fiddling with your fingers in your lap atop the comforter. 

"Enough." He mutters and holds down a burp as he reaches up to remove his glasses and rub at his eyes. "It's too bright in here."  

It seems that tonight, he had drank just a little more than usual. What a coincidence. Leaning over, you shut off the lamp on the nightstand, which yielded a light sigh from the blond. For a moment, you think to yourself that maybe right now isn't the best time. 

But you know he needs to know because tonight, a decision must be made about what the two of you will do. 

Tsukishima rolls over onto his stomach as he rests one arm on your lap, his head facing away from you. "Dumb*ss can't even hit the ball." His utterance is slightly mumbled, and you know he was complaining about someone from his volleyball team.  

You're trying to work up the nerve with your throat dry and tight. The words are right there on your tongue, yet you feel as if they're stuck to your teeth with glue. 

The news you need to tell him will change everything. 

"You're quiet," Tsukishima mumbled as the hand on your lap moved to poke at your hip. "What I do now?" 

That almost brings out a laugh as you raise your knees to your chest and rub a hand over your temples. Now that you are aware of your pregnancy, your belly is a little bigger and plumper, which takes up more space. 

It really isn't something that you can just forget for a little bit and worry about later. 

"I...I need to talk to you about something." You don't even know how you managed to get the words out, but there really is no turning back. 

The blond sighs with an aggravated respire of breath. "Is it serious?" He grumbled, and you can see the vexation lacing his tone. He probably thinks you're going to ask that silly question of 'What are we?' or 'Can we be official.' 

He always avoids it, skirting around the topic or finding some way to distract you. 

"Yes." 

He shifts his head to face your direction and sighs once again. "What is it now?" His angled eyes gleam from his lens, and his sweet lips are pursed together.

"I'm-" You feel nauseous, nearly about the retch, though you manage to swallow it down with a shaky breath. "Oh f*ck. I'm pregnant...I'm pregnant, Kei." 

His expression remains impassive, not a note or tick or any micro-expressions. However, you feel that he has stopped breathing from how the bed is no longer heaving with his breaths. Blood is rushing in your ears from how quiet your bedroom has become. 

The abrupt movement of him sitting up had you jump in your spot and squeeze your hands on your biceps. 

"Are you f*cking with me? This isn't some joke-"

You interject his words by kicking your feet under your blanket. "You think I would joke about this!? This is gonna change my life forever!" It wasn't your intention to yell; you're just so overwhelmed by this whole ordeal. 

Reaching over to your nightstand, you remove the multiple pregnancy tests and thrust them on your bed. His eyes are staring at them as if dazed, with his pupils dilating. 

Suddenly, Tsukishima twists his body so he holds up his weight with his elbows on his knees and stares at the ground. One of his hands obscures his mouth, and no sound comes from him. 

Is your heart even beating? You're scared, you're terrified, you're dreading what he's going to do. And what does it say about you when there is a small part of you hoping that he wants to try and be something more? 

You'll be connected to each other forever in a way that you can't just leave. 

"Is it mine?" He finally speaks after what felt like hours of silence. 

What a dumb question; you have to scoff audibly at it. "Of course. You're the only man." Your head turned with your lips puckering. "You won't be with me, but you throw a whole fit if another man shows me interest." Now wasn't the time to be bitter or petty, yet you couldn't help but mumble those words.

His response isn't immediate; he is just sitting there, solid like a statue. What is he thinking? What's going on in his mind?

You would give anything to know.

"Please talk to me. I can't figure you out." Your voice fails you; it's jittery and slightly squeaky at the end, and you feel a sob rising in your throat. 

Tsukishima swears under his breath before standing up and stalking towards your chair. His hands are shaky but swift as he grabs his pants and rushes to put them back on. 

It felt like your world had come crashing down. All the hope you had, the possibility that it might go the other way, was quite literally hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

"W-wait, where are you going!?" Your own voice sounds like a shrill cry in your head. 

He's shoving his wallet and keys back in his pockets as he responds. "I need, f*ck. I need time to think." 

"You can't-" All air is robbed from your lungs. "It's not fair that you can just leave! What about me!? My entire life is going to change, and I can't just walk away from this-" 

"What do you want from me, then?" His shouting voice shocked both of you, and your bodies recoiled backward. His golden brown eyes widened. The man's head dipped down, and he chewed on his bottom lip, his right hand still shaking by his side. 

"Just..." You slowly get up from your sitting position and make your way over wearily. "Just talk to me. Just tell me how you're feeling. Is there anything? Are you scared? Are you worried? Do you hate me? I need to know."

Shaking his head, he turns away from you to grab his sweater and throw it over his shirt. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done already." Those words were just enough to crack open your heart. 

It feels torn, and you feel dejected. "Why am I not worth enough for you to just talk to me?" Your vision wavers, and tears well up in your eyes, muting your sight.

His head whips your way with his lips parted. Whatever it is he wanted to say is silence as he meets your gaze. Can't he see how much he affects you? Can't he see how important he is to you? Don't you make it obvious? Don't you tell him enough? 

"...That's not what you should be worried about right now." 

So that's it.  

Your wishful thinking made you look like a complete fool. What did you expect from a man who couldn't say what he wanted clearly? 

This must be what it means to be in despair. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"(L/n)-san?" 

You jump in your seat, startled by her voice when you are lost in your thoughts. A short-haired blonde woman steps in, grinning softly. "My name is Dr. Shiori, and I'll be the OB-GYN doctor who will attend to you."

"Yes, thank you." You're being nice, but you're unsure of what to say when you are so uncomfortable. 

Shiori sits down in her chair and boots up her computer. Her room is cutely decorated with stickers and posters on the walls. It's also bright, with light streaming in through the blinds and a blaring one atop the ceiling. 

"The nurse already took your vitals, including height and weight, so now we can check in on the fetus." The woman stands up to wash her hands before drying them and putting on gloves. "It's customary that on the first check-up, we inspect the position and heartbeat. Are you ready?" 

No, no, you're not. "Of course." 

The doctor turns on the ultrasound machine on a trolley by the examination table and informs you that she's going to lift your shirt. Your belly is displayed out, slightly rounded, and pooching differently than it did when you weren't pregnant. 

"This is going to be a little cold." She squirts coupling gel on your tummy and swirls it around the skin with the transducer. 

Vibrations rattle from the machine on your left, and the soundwaves of your internal organs are picked up. The screen is just a mesh of black-and-white lines as she rolls the wand over your stomach. 

You have to turn your head away and manually control your breathing as you find yourself suddenly struck with nerves. Your skin is prickly hot, and a tightness returns to your throat. 

Maybe it's all a joke?

Maybe you got it wrong? 

Maybe you hear a heartbeat, a soft, rhythmic heartbeat, bellowing from the machine. Thump, thump, thump—it's a little fast but consistent and doesn't stop. 

You can't help but turn your head to look. And there they are on screen. So small, curled with a round little belly and tiny hands. 

"You should be around fifteen weeks. They're about the size of a plum or apple." Shiori informs as she watches the screen alongside you. "Aren't they amazing?" 

"Yeah." It's breathed out while a sob holds strong in your throat. This is real; it's so real that nothing can even deny it anymore. That's your baby right there; that's your child breathing, sleeping, and relying on you to take care of them. 

You've put your heart first, your feelings and love for Kei before your own pride. And now, this little thing comes before the love you hold for that man. If he doesn't want to be here for them, then it's his loss. 

"Heartbeat is steady. The position looks acceptable. Everything is all good. Would you like a printed image of the fetus?" You nod quickly while wiping your eyes to free them of tears. 

With that check-up completed, she cleaned you up, and the two of you sat at her desk to review prenatal educational materials and remedies for any unpleasant pregnancy symptoms. Your doctor is thorough and brings up topics that you hadn't even thought about to ask her. 

But then she asks one question that squeezes your heart. "How are you with support? Is your family there for you or the baby's father?"  

It feels embarrassing to have to say no; you have nobody. Several weeks have passed since you told Kei about your pregnancy, and he's gone radio silent. No text, not a single phone call; you don't even catch a glimpse of him on campus. 

He said he needed time to think, and enough time had passed to come to terms with it. You're under the assumption that he wants nothing to do with you anymore. 

"No." You try to smile up at her, but it feels strained. "It's just me." 

Shiori's bottom lip quivers before she breathes out audibly and rummages through her desk to grab something. "Well, everyone has their circumstances." She places down a few cards and pamphlets. "These are some resources you can use. This is a group for expectant mothers to gather and support each other. And these are government websites that you can visit to apply for aid." 

It's nice to have something that can help ease the financial and emotional burden of doing this alone. 

"I suggest you also check this website out as well to schedule childbirth classes. They can be more educational than you might think, and there are knowledgeable women who can answer any questions you have and reassure you about any fears."

You stare at the aids and think to yourself, 'Maybe I can do this without anyone else.'

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

When you arrive back at your dorm after your appointment, it came as a surprise to see the bane of your existence leaning against the wall at your front door. With his headphones on, his attention focuses on his phone so leisurely it almost pisses you off. 

You don't say anything as you approach and don't even look his way as you search through your purse for your keys. "Who are you here to see?" It's petty, and you know it, yet you can't help wanting to release some of your bitterness at him. 

"Ceinwen." 

Your fingers halt any movement as your head whips up at him, only to see his usual condescending smirk on his lips. The red hot coil in your stomach eases as you realize her weren't serious. You're still not...you still haven't worked through your own feelings. 

Still, your heart yearns for him, and your chest aches at the idea of him being with someone else. "Real funny joke. I almost laughed." 

"Then don't ask stupid questions," he responds as you unlock the door and step in. He follows right behind, shutting and locking the door while removing his shoes. 

You're already making your way to the kitchen before placing down your prescriptions and groceries on the counter. The other girls are out of their classes, so you don't have to deal with their curiosity. 

"Where did you go?" Tsukishima questioned as he approached the island and took a seat at the counter. 

Oh yeah, he's just so comfortable acting like he hadn't been a ghost this entire time. "What have you been doing this whole time?" You retort while beginning to put away your things. 

The blond groaned and leaned his arms on the island. "Can you not do this right now?" 

Your eyes flicker to his face, seeing your reflection in his glasses before turning back towards the fridge. "Can you not waste my time right now?" 

"(Y/n), can you be mature for just five minutes?" 

Milk almost falls from your hands as the anger builds up in your body. "It's not fun, is it? Trying to get a response and get only questions back. Get's on your nerves, doesn't it?" 

He doesn't reply, and you don't push for more as you finish putting everything away. It was not until you had to turn around to open your prescriptions that you got a look at his face. 

His head is down, his vision on his hands as he breathes deeply. You'd like to think he was feeling remorseful, but that might just be wishful thinking. You never really know what's on his mind; you can't figure him out. 

"You know..." The words are slightly strained as they leave your mouth. "I really don't have time to deal with you right now. I have to begin packing." 

Immediately, his head whipped up, and his arms raised to place clasped hands against his lips. "Where are you going?" He asked softly. 

"Nowhere right now." You inform while undoing a bottle of prenatal medicine. "I'm still looking for an apartment on the market. Can't raise a baby in a frat house." It really sucks, though, considering boarding was already paid for by tuition, and you had decent roommates. 

Tsukishima held your gaze for a moment before bringing out his phone and scrolling on it. "I'll send my teammate's brother's number. He owns a couple of properties, and I know he'd be willing to help you out. They owe me favors after all." 

How much work did you have to do to accept that you were going to do this all on your own? And after all that time staying silent, now he wants to help somewhat? 

"Why are you doing this?" He peers up at you through his glasses. "Why try to help after like seven weeks of silence? I don't want anything from you if you're just going to be half in. Either you take full responsibility as this baby's father or take none at all. You're the only one that gets to walk away."

The blond slinked back in his seat as he crossed his arm over his broad chest. "What is with you and labels? I'm trying to help, and you're trying to start sh*t right now." 

Blame it on the hormones, but your anger was simply unmanageable. It spurs tears to well up and cascade down your face in thick streams. His lips pursed tightly, and his entire spine had straightened up entirely at your visceral reaction. 

"Don't you get it?! I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you so far long, even though you've treated me like sh*t and just some b*tch that you f*ck; I've been putting in all this effort for you to see that I am worth more than that."

You can't hold it down anymore; you can't act like you can just get over it. "I'm the one that knows what classes you have, when, and even what your grades are. I know what profession you want to go into. I know all about your volleyball history and how you got that scar in high school. I even go to every single one of your games, yet I bet you don't know that I'm even there." 

It's like a damn was burst open, its walls destroyed as you cannot stop the torrent of water escaping through. "I know every song in your stupid f*cking playlist. I cancel any plans just in case you text and want to come over. I put in all this effort; I put you above everything else. I barely even asked for anything from you, and you barely even gave me the bare minimum." 

With hands scrunched into fists, you step toward the island, your face just a few inches from each other. "...I didn't even ask you to take responsibility for this baby. All I wanted was for you just to tell me what you were feeling, what you were thinking." 

How cathartic it feels to get that weight off your shoulders. You held that in, held everything in, because you needed to be careful with your wording. Now, it feels like you can breathe just a little easier. 

Tsukishima swallowed strenuously as his head turned away, his gaze lingering on anything but you. "If I treat you so horribly, then why don't you just tell me off? Why do you keep torturing yourself?" 

"Come on!" You grab the sides of his hair and force him to look at you. He doesn't even fight you while he frowns thickly. "I said it already. I'm in love with you. All I wanted was just to be yours officially." 

Slowly, his hands reach up to grab your wrist and pull them away from his face. His skin is hot, his palms are clammy, and he's looking at you in a way that he never has before. 

However, it seems that you got your hopes up as he stands back to his feet and turns away without another word. All you can do is watch him leave, hearing him unlock the front door and shut it behind him.

You thought that you were getting somewhere; you thought that, finally, you made it through the thick walls he'd put up. But once again, you're made to look like the fool. 

Ring!  

Your skeleton nearly jumped through your skin at the jolting call of your phone. Snatching it, you answer it without even looking at the screen as your hands aggressively wipe the tears off your face. "Hello?" 

"I can't do it." Tsukishima's voice reverberates in your head. 

"W-what...?" 

He takes a deep breath on the other line. "I can't look you in the face and tell you that I'm in love with you too when I'm scared that doing so would make it real." Another breath, one shaky and uneven. "It being real means that it can all go to sh*t and destroy me. Not having you would destroy me, (Y/n)." 

You're not even breathing, standing there staring at nothing with bated breath. 

"Just...Just give me some time. I want to try for you but I'm not good at this. Every time I look you in the eyes, I can't get a single word out. You're too good for me, and I'm scared for when you realize that, too." 

All the strength in your knees has dispersed as you slowly keel over, on your hands and knees, with your forehead pressing on the lacquered wooden floor. 

Such simple words, a few sentences, yet it's all you've ever wanted to hear. You would have understood him if you knew how he felt. 

"...Can you wait for me...?" 

You shouldn't even entertain him. You shouldn't even give him any leeway to think that he can f*ck with your emotions anymore. Why are you the one that has to wait for him? He's already had three years to be able to get the words out.

But you're weak, in love, and pregnant. You just want him by your side for a bit of support. You want to believe that if you did, you're finally going to get the man you've always wanted. 

"How long?" It feels like a gush of air from your lungs. 

"I don't know." He answers after a moment of silence. "I know I have no right to ask anything else from you, but I want to be there for...for you and this baby. It took two to make that child, and I want to do my part."

You shouldn't say yes. You can do it on your own. You can do it by yourself. 

But he has your heart in the palm of his hands. 

"Okay." 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Only briefly did you communicate with him the following four weeks. Just a few times, he texted to check in and make sure you were doing okay. He seemed busy, his responses short, but you already decided he had another chance. 

But soon, you're going to confront him; how much longer are you supposed to wait?

Other than that, you've been doing everything you could to prepare for this baby. You're working more, saving up for future expenses. Right now, all your grades are passing, better than before, as you've dedicated yourself to fully graduating with excellent remarks. 

You were going to need all the credibility you could gather when people would judge you right off the bat for having a baby so young. The childbirth classes you were taking were going well, and the support group of other expecting mothers helped you make good friends with other people who could actually relate to your situation. 

It did feel like you were alone in this pregnancy when you were the only one experiencing the joys of expecting. There was your baby's first kick, the first movement when recognizing your voice; it was a shame your baby's father wasn't there to experience it. 

However, he did something most shocking, which was the turning point in your relationship. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

It's early morning; fog is still rolled out across the city, and dew drops still water the grass. The sun is so far off in the distance that its warmth doesn't reach you, leading to a scarf wrapped tightly around your neck and lower face. 

You are dressed in a thick coat and several undertops, with your belly just growing big enough to press against the structure of your jacket. It's not huge yet, but by now, your baby should already be the size of a mango in your womb. 

Quietly, you walked down the street from the bus stop until you arrived at a residential section with the address on your phone. The building was at least three stories, but it looked new and modern, with strong gates around the perimeter and a gate call box. 

You pressed the button and informed the property owner at his office that you were here for your walk-in. The gate had opened, and he called to let you know to meet him downstairs at the specific number. 

When you knocked and were let in, you most definitely did not expect the blond man himself to be sitting down on a sofa chair. He raised his head and met your gaze, a sly grin on his lips as he leaned his head against his fist. "Nice of you to join us." He muses at your flabbergasted expression. 

Noriaki, the property owner, had only grinned with a closed-eyed smile. "Well, now that everyone is here, let's go look at the available room."

You couldn't say anymore, quite literally dumbfounded at that moment. Silently, you followed behind and entered one of the three apartments on the second floor. Immediately, you smell the scent of lime and are engulfed in light from the glass sliding door in the living room by the balcony. 

"I had different counters put in and a new oven. The fridge isn't the latest model, but it's the most reliable one from the company." The brunet speaks as he leads you two around.

Tsukishima is silent, simply observing everything and checking the small details of certain appliances. The place was exquisite, with two rooms and a surprisingly large bathroom. Even the water pressure was intense and gushed forcefully from the showerhead.

It had everything you wanted, including a storage room just down the hall at the end that could be converted into a small room if needed. 

You wanted this place badly, and even with the deal Noriaki made just for you, the final price still exceeded the budget you could afford to pay alone.  

"So what do you think?" The owner asked once everything was explored and looked about. 

"It's gorgeous." You state while a hand moves to press against the small of your back. "It's still just too much for me to pay by myself." 

"Who said you're paying by yourself?" Tsukishima asked while flicking your forehead. "Why else do you think I'm here?" 

Your head twists to the side with a brow raised almost dramatically. "I-you-" He pinches your cheek but grins a guileless smile that doesn't feel so mean. 

"You're not the only one who was preparing. After all, we have a baby to take care of together." His words came out so smoothly that you struggled to comprehend them. 

You're the one standing there gaping at him dumbfoundedly. You knew he needed time, but you hadn't expected to be ready for...well, this. 

"Shall we go and sign the lease?" Noriaki asked lightly, hands clasped behind his back. 

The blond was the one who answered you. "Yeah, let's go." And he was even the one to grab your hand and drag you to the elevator when you stood nearly shortcircuiting. 

It feels surreal to get this from him when you have tried so hard before. Are things really changing for the better?

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

You had thought things were changing, yet when you asked him to go with you two for your twenty-week check-up, he said that he was busy. It was a little bit of wishful thinking to believe that he'd be there for everything. 

Tsukishima was still the same person he was before, but only now has he stepped up to take care of his responsibility. 

Really, you should have lowered your expectations to minimize your disappointment. But you put that aside for now as you arrive for your appointment. You were there for a check-up and to finally find out the gender of your little fetus. 

"We're going to try something different," Dr. Shiroi communicated as she rolled into a different machine. It looked like a larger ultrasound machine with a bigger body and a more extended trolley. "This is a GE Voluson Ultrasound Machine. It's used to see a 3D/4D real-time visualization of your baby." 

You've heard about this being used to render a physical mold of a blind woman's baby's face so she could feel what they looked like.

You cried when you saw your first ultrasound; you think you might bawl if you were to see something so visually accurate before birth.  

The OB-GYN did the same thing she did last time, raising your shirt to smear the cool coupling jelly on your bare skin. As the transducer is being rolled around on your belly, you hear the sound waves of your body's natural functions while you lay eager to see the 4D rendering. 

An abrupt knock echoes from your door as a nurse peeks in to look your way. "Sorry to interrupt, but there is a man here who goes by Tsukishima Kei. He says that he is here to see the mother of his child," she says quietly. 

You're so startled by her words that you don't realize you were just lying there silently until Shiori spoke. "Well, should we let him in?"

Already on the verge of crying from your hormones, you could not trust your voice, so you nodded. The door shut slightly before it was opened again, and Tsukishima walked in while twisting his head away from the bright light in the room. 

"Work was being a b*tch, and I couldn't get off-" His words come to a complete halt as a heartbeat fills the room—thump, thump, thump, a little slower, still as rhythmic and soothing as before. 

He whipped his head your way, his golden brown eyes consumed by the sight on the screen. His shoulders had slumped, the straps of his bag falling as it hit the ground with a loud thud. You could hear him suck in a gasp with his mouth remaining agape. 

"That's..." He didn't need to finish his sentence as you nodded and turned to look at it, too. 

The screen has a black background, with the colored model of your fetus a medallion yellow hue. You can see the shape of their face, the roundness in their cheeks, and the imprint of their lips. They have all five fingers, with their right hand pressed against their face and the left circled against their chest. The little legs of the fetus are curled up to their chest, a secure position as they sleep so blissfully unaware of the world outside your belly.

"It's our baby, Kei."

He broke down. You can hear his body collapse in a waiting chair against the wall as he chokes on his breath. "My god."

Shiori hums as she moves the transducer slightly. "It looks like...a healthy baby girl. Congratulations." 

You're doing it again; the tears are falling without an order. "Oh, a daughter." You croak with a hand reaching up to touch the screen. "We're having a daughter, Kei." 

Gradually, your head turns back to face the blond, yet you couldn't imagine you'd ever see this sight. With his face hidden in the palms of his hand, you can see the slight droplets of tears peaking through between his fingers. His sagging shoulders are jittering while he clenched his jaw, holding in a sob. 

You have become aware of many things during this pregnancy. You know you have faults, you know you're not perfect, and you know you've been thinking of Kei as cruel. There were many things you just assumed and took the initiative of believing and granted; it was because he never talked to you about what he truly felt, but still. There is still so much to learn about him. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The ride home in Tsukishima's car was silent; there was no talking, and not even the radio was playing. It was hard to have anything to say after such a touching familial moment at the doctors. 

You wonder how he feels right now. Did it become so surreal when he finally heard his daughter's heartbeat, when he finally saw her little face staring right back at him? It was a distinct moment to which very few things could compare. 

He pulled into the underground parking spot and turned the car on to park. Although it was shut off, the blond didn't move as he stared ahead through the glass. His hands are frozen on his lap while his expression remains impassive, unreadable. 

"What's wrong?" It was a simple question, yet one he seemed to avoid as he usually kept his feelings all bottled up. 

Yet you were pleasantly surprised when the young man had blown air out of his mouth and turned to face you. "This is real?" He asked softly. 

"Yeah." You reply with a light chuckle. "It's all real, Kei. We're having a little girl, and she'll be here soon." 

Tsukishima leaned back in his seat as his adam bobbed from a strenuous swallow. "Hate how thankful I am that you didn't move on from me." 

You almost make fun of him, nearly; it was so hard to bite those words down. But you manage only to nod your head and place a hand on his. "Come on, let's go upstairs." 

He didn't need to be told twice as he heaved his body out and wrapped his arms around the other side of the car to open the passenger side. "What a gentleman! " you jeered, yet he said nothing slyly back. 

When you both had ridden the elevator to your floor and entered your apartment, the sun was just about setting. Its warm rays stream in through the glass sliding door, and you take a moment just to stand there and bask in it. 

"Kei?" 

He hums as you hear him kick over a box that still needs to be unpacked. 

Turning to face him, he stares at you curiously. "We need to have better communication." He rolls his eyes dramatically, but you only laugh. "I'm serious. You don't even know how upset I was when I thought you didn't want to come to my appointment. If you had just told me that you were working and might not be able to get off, I would have been fine with that. You know what I would have told you?" 

"Hmm?" He hums while shifting his gaze away and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks. 

"That it was okay, that I understood. If you had just told me that you wanted to be there, but something important like work was not letting you off, the heartache I felt, and the questioning of if you really cared about me would have never happened. It would have been that easy." 

"I know that-" 

You interject his words with a shake of your head as you step towards him. "Don't lie to me. What are you so scared of that makes it hard to communicate with me or just to tell me about your feelings?" 

He sighs exasperatedly while cocking his head in a different direction. "I don't know, (Y/n)." His answering would have enraged you if it were the you before your pregnancy. But you've been through so much, had many realizations and conclusions, and are more open with your thoughts. 

Lightly, you grab his hands and hold them firmly. His skin is warm, and his fingers and palms have rough callouses from his hard work playing volleyball. "Then we're just going to have to figure it together. Because there is no way you're getting rid of me. I love you, Kei. Where am I going to go when we're starting our future together right here?" 

He breathes deeply, chest expanding before you hear the exhale. His golden brown eyes behind his dark frames finally look down at you with the corner of his lip quirking upwards. "I don't remember you being so sappy. It's gross." 

"Ah!" You release his hands to poke him harshly at the waist. "Don't even lie. You know you like it. Someone at least has to be open with their feelings." 

Tsukishima clicked his tongue while swatting your hand away. His towering body turned at an angle to walk down the hallway, though he had halted at first before turning back to face you. "You get on my nerves sometimes." 

"Oh, I could say the same thing about you." You stress back to him playfully. "Now, instead of being a meaniehead, let's figure out what to do for dinner. I'm starving." 

The blonde laughed to himself as he began walking in the direction of the kitchen, but not before flicking your forehead lightly. "Fat a**." 

"And you like this fat a**. That's why I'm pregnant." You drawl while twirling a piece of your hair, and you get the exact response you wanted. He knocked over the napkin dispenser on the island counter from your remark and flung back to glare at you 'harshly.' 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

When a man finally steps up, you notice the effort he has put in that you should have deserved long ago. Finally, receiving the same amount you have put in feels rewarding in a way nothing else has. 

Although his change seems drastic, perhaps he had always been like that. His insecurities and fear kept him from being the man he could be. You notice it almost immediately; the small things he's been doing have been adding up. 

The foods you've been craving or briefly mentioned are in the cupboards the next day. You complained once that the towel you were using was becoming too small to wrap around yourself, and then suddenly, the next time you showered, two new towels were waiting for you on the counter. 

When you've struggled to get up late at night to wash yourself, he throws your things down by your side of the bed and dramatically sits next to you. His rough hands would then surprisingly clean it for you tenderly, softly, but then once he was done, he'd complain about needing to baby you. 

Yet even when he complains or mutters how annoying something is, he does it again and again. You've dreamed about who would be your one, and although he's a bit different than your imagination, he's exactly what you want. 

Even with his silly little quirks. 

"This is literally all common sense," Tsukishima complains while pointing down at your lesson binder. "What kind of dumb** doesn't know how to hold a baby." 

You can only roll your eyes at his usual complaints. "You whine every time, yet you still come." 

Tsukishima has been coming with you to your childbirth classes, to every single one, even though he complains every time. Nevertheless, each time you say you're going to go alone, he's prying you away from the bus stop and grabbing your hand to drag you to his car.

Maybe he should just say he wants to be around you instead of acting all snobby hehe. 

"Somebody has to make sure you're not doing something stupid." He muttered, leaning back in his seat while crossing his arms over his chest. 

Playfully gasping, you poke him at the waste. "Aw, you actually care about me?" The expression he had on his face when he whipped down to look at you was hilarious. It was as if he was saying, are you seriously serious right now? 

A lady from behind your table laughs to herself as her husband snickers softly. "It's nice to see your caring boyfriend here as usual." Sachiko jest while resting her hands on her pregnant belly. 

"He's not my boyfriend." Were your immediate words, you're just the mother of his child. 

"Princess." Tsukishima suddenly lamented in a whiney voice while he wrapped a long arm over your back to hug your shoulders. "I wish you would stop telling people that when you are upset with me." 

You nearly choke on your saliva as the others around you laugh lightly at the scene. "Young love." Someone sighs under their breath almost dreamily. 

Most of his jokes either go over your head, or you let it slide, but this one was sticking to you. Although things have been changing, most definitely for the better, the topic of your relationship with each other wasn't brought up. 

He's taking responsibility and fully investing in it, but you want him to be more. Maybe that was your issue: always wanting more. 

For the rest of the class, you were silent, listening to the lady up front but not joking around with the blond by your side. He noticed it, you could tell, but he refrained from bringing it up in front of the others. It wasn't until the two of you were in the car, driving back to your apartment, that he spoke. 

At thirty weeks pregnant, you really cannot help if your emotions control you so strongly.

"Alright, what's bothering you now?" He asked while leaning an elbow on his door side. 

"Nothing." Came your mumbled reply as you rested your head on the window, staring out at the darkness of the late night. 

Tsukishima sighed exhaustedly before flicking on his turn signal and shifting. "I'm only going to ask you what's wrong once. After that, you can act like a kicked puppy all you want." 

You sneered at him while turning your head in his direction. "You're just going to make fun of me." 

"Even if you are going to say something stupid, I'm still gonna answer." 

Your eyes stare at his side profile for a moment as you debate whether or not to tell. But you give him soon after as you couldn't go any longer feeling wretched. "I'm sad that we're not dating. I know that I'm the mother of your baby, but I also want to be your girlfriend, maybe wife one day." 

The car came to an abrupt halt that had you jerk in your seat. The blond turned to face you with his eyes squinted and lips stretched into a frown. "What the hell are you on about? Of course, we're together." He states as if it were so apparent. 

Now it was your turn to have a bewildered expression while you held your hands out, pointing at yourself. "Um, how am I supposed to know that? We never officially stated what we were, and you never asked me. What am I supposed to think?" 

"God, why are you like this?" He complains as he starts driving again. "I thought it was obvious. You're the mother to my child. We're living together. I took responsibility, and that means being there for not only the baby but you as well." 

You hated that he was right, somewhat. Slouching in your seat and pouting, you shifted your gaze back to the window. "I just wanted some clarification. Would have been nice if you asked me." Your mumbling words immediately result in a sigh from the man. 

He pulled into the underground parking lot and parked before turning to face you. "Will you be my girlfriend?" 

Slowly, you turned your head to meet his gaze. "No." 

"(Y/n)." He groaned while yanking his keys out of the ignition. "Stop playing around. I'm being serious." 

"So am I. Either put in the effort actually to ask me to be yours or don't ask me at all. I deserve to be treated just a little bit more importantly." 

He was silent the rest of the night, and you hadn't brought it up again. You were tired of the bare minimum, and even though he has been proving more and being there, you wanted him just to try a little bit harder. 

And it seemed that your words had gotten to him. The following day, you woke up to his side of the bed already done and remade. He probably had classes that early morning, so you weren't in a rush to get ready for your day. 

Lazying about for a little longer, you decided to get up after a while once your stomach cried for some food. Yet you quite nearly sh*t yourself at the sound of something moving in your kitchen. Peeking over as carefully as you could with a pregnant belly, you had not expected to see Tsukishima cooking in the kitchen. 

He wore your frilly pink apron over his work clothes as he made all your favorite things. You stepped closer, astonished and astounded by things you didn't expect, like the candies and cute little teddy bears on the counter. Or vases of your favorite flowers with cards leaned against them. 

Tsukishima heard the pitter-patter of your footsteps and spoke without turning around to face you. "I realized I've never given you flowers." 

You're nearly in tears from your hormones. "How did you know those were my favorite flowers?" You asked with a slight squeak to your voice. 

The blonde circled around to place another plate down in the middle of the items he bought. "I know a lot about you too, (Y/n). Now eat; I have to be back at work in an hour." 

Respring a heavy breath, you held back your tears and took a seat on the island. You couldn't wait to dig in, and dig in, did you? The man himself had stayed in the kitchen, washing the dishes before leaning against the counter and just watching you eat. 

By the time you were done, everything was eaten up, and you slouched in your seat, patting your bulging belly over your sleepwear. "That hit the spot." 

Tsukishima hummed while stepping forward to lean his elbows on the surface by your plate. "Now that you've eaten my food, you have no right to refuse me asking you to be my girlfriend." You peered at him with squinted eyes while attempting to hold down a smile. "So, will you finally be my girlfriend?" 

Yeah, that made you feel good. "I suppose." You sing it impishly." "Yes, I will be your girlfriend." 

"Good." After all that, he walked over to your side to kiss your temple before going to the front door to put on his coat and leave for work. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Throughout your pregnancy, Tsukishima has surprised you, and he continued to surprise you constantly. It feels like all that sadness and despair that happened before was decades ago. It feels so silly to think about the issues you had and how all of it could have been avoided if you both just communicated better. 

And although he still struggles with expressing himself clearly and not just holding a mask over his true feelings, he's putting in the effort that you've always wanted. 

However, he still continues to surprise you when one day, at thirty-six weeks pregnant, he tells you to get dressed because you are going to meet his family. 

You were in a daze while preparing to go, and on the long car ride there, you couldn't help but get more anxious. Meeting his family was such a huge step. It felt like it made your relationship even more real. He's not someone who would bring around just anyone, and yes, although you are pregnant with his baby, he didn't have to introduce you at all. 

When finally arrived at his home, you felt like you were going to throw up. You're breathing had increased in speed as you gasped for air. 

"(Y/n), breathe," Tsukishima murmured and grasped at your clenched hands. Your eyes fling his way only for him to have leaned forward and kissed your lips softly. Oh, how you melted in his embrace. "There is nothing to be nervous about. They love you already." 

You stared at him with your lips slightly agape. "You talk about me to them?" 

"Of course." He states while raising a hand to pinch your cheek lightly. "I've talked about you long before you were even pregnant." 

It was too much for your little 'ol heart; you couldn't stop the tears that prompted the blond to swipe them away quickly. "Stop crying. You're going to make it seem like I abuse you."

"Abuse me with love." You joke with a quivering voice. 

Kissing your lips once more, he pats your face dry while avoiding your gaze. "You can be so annoying sometimes." 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The birth came unexpectantly, just cramps and leg pain that you thought was normal as you had them before when you brought your thirty weeks. 

Yet when a particular piercing cramp in your lower belly woke you from your slumber and a wetness spread between your thighs, you knew what was happening. 

You awoke your partner with a startled cry and told him what had happened. He was up to his feet in an instant. Throwing on his clothes, he helped you clean up first, then put on your clothes and threw the to-go bag in the car. 

The blond does not show his emotions easily, yet you can tell he is nervous from his thumping leg and jittery fingers. As he made his way to the hospital, he kept looking at you, checking on your condition. 

Arriving, the nurses were quick to take you away to get checked and placed in a birthing room. You had to deal with the contractions that came in rolling waves of pain and tight uncomfortableness. 

Laying on the hospital bed with the time ticking and your contractions beginning to arrive quicker than before, something hot started to creep up your spine. 

Nerves and anxiety spiked, overwhelming you as they gripped your mind tightly. Tsukishima noticed the slight change in your demeanor quickly, rolling his chair closer to your side. 

"What's wrong?" He asked genuinely. 

You can only look up at him with tears in your eyes. "I'm scared, Kei. What if something goes wrong? What if-" He silences you efficiently with one of his hands moving to hold the side of your face. 

"It's okay to be scared," he murmured, looking at you with tender eyes. "I'm scared, too. I'm afraid to finally hold our daughter in my arms and realize that our entire world will revolve around that little thing." His thumb caressed your cheek, the calloused texture scratchy yet comforting against your skin. "We're going to be okay. Our daughter is going to be okay. God, I can't even wait to hear her annoying little baby cries." 

You cannot help but laugh and reach to hold tightly onto his other hand. "That's going to get old real fast." 

"It will," he replied, smiling genuinely. "But we'll experience it all together." 

For the rest of the night, he was by your side, holding your hand and distracting you from the contractions. When Shiori came and said you were dilated enough, the birthing began. 

It's happening—it was finally happening! After months of preparation, after months of talking to her through your skin, she'll be out here, able to be held in your arms. 

The childbirth classes you took prepared you for this, and they told you about the pain, but the process of pushing her out through your pelvis was a pain you were absolutely unprepared for. You had screamed and grunted, choking on your own breath as you pushed. 

Period cramps had nothing on this; you couldn't even fathom it. Tsukishima was actually useful, letting you squeeze his hand until it almost broke and talking you through it. His voice was so soothing as he attempted to keep his pitch calm.

With him by your side as a support pillar, you felt safe and secure. And to think you were going to do it alone before. How strong all those single mothers must be to be able to lay here in this bed and experience this pain by themselves. 

And finally, after several hours of pushing and screaming and crying, the shrill cry of a newborn filled the delivery room. Oh, her little cry, it blared over the sounds of the machine and nurses talking. 

"You did it." Tsukishima congratulated you with a kiss on your sweaty temple. "So proud of you, Princess." 

Smiling weakly, the two of you watched as a midwife took your daughter to a sink and cleaned her carefully before weighing her. Your hand that was gripping him from the pain was now merely holding him tightly to ground yourself back to reality. 

She's so tiny, yet she already has a head of thick hair. The midwife wrapped your baby carefully in a pink blanket and small little pink beanie before placing her on your chest.  

You and your partner just stare at her in awe, overwhelmed by her ugly cuteness. Her crying had ceased, and finally, her eyes had opened to stare back at you two with her father's golden brown eyes. It's so warm; her gaze is so warm and innocent. 

These little sounds vibrate on your skin. It's like her little humming and gurgling are helping your heartbeat. This is your baby, the daughter of you, and the love of your life. 

"There's no one I'd rather have been the mother to my child," Tsukishima muttered while raising a finger to rub against her cheek. "Only you could give me such a beautifully ugly thing." 

A laugh reverberates against your chest, and your daughter curls her head against your skin as if she recognizes who you are. "Do you think she will be tall?"

"Interesting thing to ask right after birth." The blond replied, looking at you sideways before knocking your head lightly with his. "Whether she'll be tall or not, we'll find out together. But I know she'll be as pretty as her mother." 

You grin, overwhelmed by the pure happiness you are feeling at this moment. "I love you." Your first words were directed at your daughter before you looked up to meet your boyfriend's gaze. "And I love you too." 

His lips pursed, tight and firm, before he closed his eyes and rested his head atop yours. "I love you too."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Requested by detredoomy on Wattpad.

She wanted some drama and toxicity, so I gave it to her.

This is actually the first character x reader story I've written in two years. Everything has been about my monster OCs, lmao. It felt nice to go back to my roots as an anime oneshot writer and pull the moves out.

Please show some support by liking/commenting so I know if you're enjoying it.

If you'd like to make a request, please do so on the first page under the request arrow so I don't lose your request in the comments.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳If you'd like to support me or read 5+ drafts of BD, or my other stories, please consider buying me Kofi. Thank you :)

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚 signing out

See ya later, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐬!

[misctf]

What do you think about that idea?

A homophonic nerd who hates christmas. Get a present of the local frats and turns into a new member of the frats and celebrating Christmas by getting fucked by his new bros or/and fuck them.

Jeremy groans as he hears aggressive knocking at his door. Maybe if he ignores them, they'll leave. But after a few more minutes, the aggressive knocking returns. He looks up from his chemistry textbook and sighs.

“Its finals season, don't people have better stuff to do? He grumbles as he walks and opens the door, “This better be good.” He mumbles, but as he opens the door, his eyes narrow.

Jeremy glares at the burly fraternity brothers standing on his doorstep- half naked despite the cold. Their obnoxious Christmas caroling grating on his nerves. 

“Can't you see I'm trying to study?” he snaps, crossing his arms over his thin chest.

The frat boys' smirks falter momentarily at Jeremy's harsh tone. They shift uncomfortably, seemingly surprised by the reaction. One of them, clearly the ringleader, steps forward.

“Hey, chill out man! We were just trying to spread some holiday cheer.” he says, attempting a grin.

His biceps flex as he crosses his arms, mirroring Jeremy's posture. The others snicker behind him, their eyes roving over Jeremy's slender frame. 

“Yeah, you could use a little 'cheer' yourself, nerd.” another one sneers.

“Fuck off 'bros'.” Jeremy mocks, “Don't you have anything better to do? Maybe get drunk and give each other bro-jobs?” He smirks, clearly proud of his taunting.

The frat boys exchange angry glances, but their leader holds up a hand, silencing them. He turns back to Jeremy, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Alright, alright, let's not escalate things here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small, holding it out to Jeremy, “Here, consider this a peace offering.” It's a gingerbread man, intricately decorated to resemble a buff, muscular figure, “I hope you appreciate the effort we put into this.” the frat boy says, chuckling, “We figured since you're so into...books and shit, maybe a little holiday baking would brighten your day.”

The others snicker, but there's an undercurrent of tension still lingering in the air. Jeremy narrows his eyes suspiciously at the gingerbread man, but takes it. After an awkward and begrudging thank you, he slams the door in their face. Jeremy slams the door shut, annoyed at the interruption. He sets the gingerbread man down on his desk, eyeing it skeptically. It's ridiculous how detailed the decoration is, almost like a caricature of muscle-bound masculinity.

“What a joke.” He mutters.

Jeremy picks up the gingerbread man, examining it closer. Despite himself, he feels a pang of hunger. He breaks off a leg and pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. There's a sweetness to it, but also a savory depth that's surprisingly satisfying.

“Huh, not bad. Maybe those assholes actually know how to bake.” He chuckles at the thought of burly frat bros baking together.

Jeremy barely notices the subtle tingling sensation starting in his legs. At first, it's almost imperceptible - a slight heaviness, a tightening of the skin. He absentmindedly rubs his thigh. As he continues munching on the gingerbread man’s legs, the sensations intensify in his lower extremities. Muscles begin to swell and thicken beneath the surface of his skin, straining against the fabric of his jeans. The denim stretches taut, creaking softly as it struggles to contain the rapid growth. His calves bulge outward, transforming from a lean, wiry shape into a thick, corded mass. Veins pulse visibly along its length, prominent and throbbing. Higher up, Jeremy's thighs begin to balloon, expanding into a formidable pillars of raw power. His quadriceps and hamstrings hypertrophy at an alarming rate, bunching and rippling beneath his skin.

“Fuck.” He mumbles, shifting uncomfortably on his new pillowy bubble butt, “I should move around a bit.”

He stands up to stretch and takes a bite out of the gingerbread man’s torso. As he does, he feels a surge of energy course through his body. His stomach rumbles hungrily, craving more of the sweet, spicy flesh. He devours the rest of the torso in greedy mouthfuls, savoring every morsel. With each bite, Jeremy's transformation accelerates. His midsection expands, the once-skinny waistline now a chiseled expanse of defined abs. Each ripple and groove is etched into his skin like the finest marble sculpture. His chest broadens, pectoral muscles growing dense and powerful. His nipples harden into pert, masculine buds, standing proudly atop newly formed pecs. Shoulders widen, trapezius muscles bulging with strength.

Still unaware, Jeremy's hands tremble slightly as he brings the gingerbread man's arm to his mouth. He bites into the soft dough, feeling the texture melt between his teeth. The flavor explodes across his tongue, a perfect blend of spices and sweetness. As he chews, Jeremy's arms undergo a dramatic metamorphosis. Biceps and triceps swell, growing massive and imposing. Forearms thicken, veins popping out in stark relief. Wrists broaden, tendons standing out prominently as they anchor the gigantic muscles above. With each swallow, Jeremy's sense of balance and coordination deteriorate further. He stumbles backwards, dropping the gingerbread man's head onto the floor with a soft clatter. 

“Oh fuck!” He falls backwards and lands on his ass with a loud thump.

At that moment, his clothes rip from the strain of his muscles, falling away from his chiseled frame. Jeremy gasps when he sees his new figure. He surveys his new physique, hands reflexively reaching out to touch the ridged planes of his chest. His fingers trace the defined edges of his pectorals, marveling at the sheer size and hardness of the muscle beneath. Beneath the gaze of his own awestruck reflection, Jeremy becomes acutely aware of the substantial bulge straining against his underwear. He shifts uncomfortably, feeling the fabric dig into the newfound mass. With a sharp tug, the elastic waistband gives way, allowing the underwear to slip down his thighs and pool around his ankles.

“Holy shit... what did that gingerbread man do to me?” Jeremy gasps as he stares at his growing erection and he instinctively wraps a meaty hand around his cock.

A shiver runs down his spine as he realizes the full extent of his transformation - not just physical, but also primal and instinctual. His mind reels, struggling to comprehend the sudden shift in his desires and needs. Jeremy's gaze drifts to the remnants of the gingerbread man lying on the floor. The head, still intact, beckons to him with an unsettling allure. A part of his mind screams at him to resist, warning of unknown consequences, but the allure of the sweet, spicy treat proves too strong to ignore. With a sense of trepidation, Jeremy plucks up the gingerbread head. He brings it to his lips, hesitating for a moment before taking a tentative bite and then devouring it. The flavors explode across his taste buds, a potent cocktail of sugar, spice, and something darker, more primal.

“Oh fuck...” He grunts as he feels a pressure in his skull.

His features begin to shift, contorting into a more brutish, angular visage. His nose flattens, becoming wider and more prominent. Cheekbones sharpen, giving his face a harder, more chiseled appearance. His eyes, once a mirror into his sharp mind, become dull, gleaming with confidence and arrogance. A cocky smirk spreads across his lips, drawing attention to a set of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth.

“Oh yeah, I'm fucking beast mode now!” Jeremy boasts to no one in particular, admiring his reflection in the mirror, “Look at these guns!”

He flexes his massive biceps, watching in awe as the muscles ripple beneath his skin. He gives them each a kiss. His ego inflates with each passing second, replacing any semblance of humility or empathy.

“You know what? Fuck school. Who needs books when you've got a body like this?” Jeremy scoffs, kicking aside his textbooks and notes. “Time to live life to the fuckin’ fullest.”

A knock at the door pulls Jeremy away from his self-indulgence. He quickly grabs a pair of his old red briefs, which strain against his ass and cock, and strides over to the door. The frat boys who had earlier disrupted his study session stare wide-eyed at the towering, musclebound behemoth now standing before them. But their silence quickly turns into snickers and low whistles as they take in Jeremy's exaggerated physique and the prominent bulge straining against his skimpy underwear.

“Well, well, well, looks like that’s the way the cookie crumbled.” one of them jokes, elbowing his buddies and grinning wickedly. 

The others chuckle and high-five each other, clearly amused by their friend's successful prank. The ringleader steps forward, patting Jeremy's shoulder roughly.

“Welcome to the team, big guy! Now that you've got the right look, why don't you join us for some holiday cheer?”

Jeremy’s dull mind processes the request, and he grins as they hand him a Santa hat. And despite the cold, he joins his new brothers in their caroling. Belting out the words to various songs. Enjoying the looks of pure lust as he shows off his masculinity. As they walk back to the frat house, Jeremy felt a firm hand on his ass and feels the lustful eyes of his new frat bros on him.

“I think it might be time to frost our gingerbread man.” One of his bros snickers, adjusting his bulge, “You ready Jer?”

Jeremy's grin widens, his dull mind now consumed by a single-minded desire to please and impress his new fraternity brothers. He nods eagerly, a spark of excitement igniting in his chest at the prospect. He licks is lips, imaging their cocks in it- his ass pulsing with need. Yeah, he was going to give them a Christmas they’d never forget.

[dark-dragon-8]

A Supernatural × Batman crossover where the Batfam are actual cryptids and the brothers are sent to hunt them, only to find out that these guys are pretty much immortal, god like beings whose only weaknesses are each other, the sun and some weird sentient manifestation of their home city that they seem to care about, and most of them already grew out of the second one, since, apparently, the sun only affects them when they're newborns/newly transformed/changed.

The whole reason they ended up in Gotham in the first place was because of some online rumors saying that there is a demon cult in the city, as well as Blüdhaven [it's true, partially, the Bat clan has had several cults and/or religions painting them as godly beings/saviours of Gotham throughout the years, still do (imagine the colonies from F'ing Demon Bats, only this time the cryptid part of them is actually real)] along with shrines for human sacrifices.

At first they thought the locals sold themselves to a Pagan God in exchange for their safety, that the shrines and "holy grounds" spread throughout the city were for blood and human sacrifices and the creatures were feeding on the souls of their followers or something.

Turns out, that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes there were bloody sacrifices at the shrines, but most of the time those were just grieving kids bringing their dead pets to silence's holy grounds for them to be healed, or taken care of, by the spirit and have their souls at peace. But, again, that was rare, and only occurred at the holy grounds themselves rather than the shrines people attended to daily.

Majority of those shrines were filled with books, art supplies, music boxes with ballerinas and, sometimes, you could even find a few trinkets and computer parts, as well as the occasional plates and plastic boxes filled with home cooked meals, sometimes they even put pots and kettles filled to the brim with savory goods and nice tea. Nobody ever touched the food, not even the poor and desperate, when asked why all the brothers received were looks of horror and hushed whispers about how "The bats don't like thieves" and "They'll stop coming by the shrine, maybe even destroy it if we do that"

Dean didn't like it, neither did Sam, they didn't like how the locals, people who barely even bat an eye when they see a dead body on their way to work, get so scared and terrified as soon as they hear of something that might displease the Bats. They tried asking around, trying to figure out what is it that makes them so scared of their dearly beloved deities, after all, they talk about them like such a wonder, like they're the best thing that ever happened to them. Hell, one of them is named Mercy and was revered for its compassion and understanding of those around them.

They only got their answer when investigating a place called Crime Alley. They locals were all the same, if not even more reserved than their city's counterparts, but there was one person, a young girl who couldn't be older than ten that said she'll be willing to answer their questions in return for some money and stories from their time as hunters. They were reluctant at first, but seeing as they haven't had much of an option, they agreed.

"So, Masey" Dean started

"Missy" she corrected

"Right, sorry, Missy, you said that you could tell us what's up regarding those demons"

"Deities" she said sternly, the man simply nodded "And yes, I can do that, but you'll have to do something for me first"

"And what would that be?"

"You said you were a hunter, right?" He nodded "And you also said you have some money. So I want you to give me two hundred dollars, cash, and a written story containing at least three of your adventures with your partner. You can't use big fonts, lie or omit any details from the story, it needs to be one hundred percent real and legible and needs to be at least fifty pages, understood?"

Dean was confused, confused and worried. Why would this child need a story about them hunting monsters? And why did she need it to be so long and accurate? Was she trying to sell them out to the Bats or something? Why was this so important?

A million questions flooded his head and looking at Sammy, he could tell the feeling was very much mutual.

"Um Missy" it was Sam talking to her this time "Why would you want a story of us hunting like that? We could tell you about our time together on the field, if you want, but why do you need that written so meticulously?"

The little girl shook her head before he even finished speaking "No, no, I need it written"

"How so?"

"For Passion, of course"

"Passion?"

"Yeah, Passion, the component watching over Crime Alley, it loves reading stories but only when they're worth it. It doesn't like when people give them stories only to please it or for it to give them undeserved attention. It needs to be good and interesting, a story about two hunters will definitely do that"

The two hunters met each other's eyes, both their expressions filled with worry, apprehension and suspicion.

"And why all the other rules? Why does have to be so long and accurate?"

The girl tilted her head, looking at them as though they've said something stupid "Because you're introducing yourself, maybe"

"I can't just tell you guys all there is to know about the Bat without at least one of the components acknowledging you guys and giving me permission to share that information with outsiders"

"And what makes you think it won't just kill us as soon as it realizes what we do for a living?" They might've been desperate, but that doesn't mean they're going to give an essay about their weaknesses and hunting methods to a freaky, probably homicidal spirit on a silver platter

"Because they like people like you, people who put their lives on the line in order to help those around them. Also" she leveled her gaze with Dean's, which was pretty impressive considering she barely reached his hip "Had it wanted you dead, you wouldn't have been able to take two steps inside Crime Alley without having a heart attack, or your head magically disappearing"

The two brothers tensed, the taller's eyes rapidly scanning their surroundings, hands fishing out a weird cellular device, probably an EMF reader or maybe a bottle of holy water, as the shorter failed to keep up his confident facade in front of the (probably) ten year old (because Dean isn't going to be spooked by a kid that hasn't even reached the double digits yet, he's 𝘯𝘰𝘵)

The little girl laughed, completely ignoring their - very justified!!! - panic "Relax, would ya? Passion doesn't kill people unless they feel like it's necessary"

They didn't seem to be very relaxed, she didn't care, she just told them to meet her again on the border of Crime Alley and its neighbor city in a week, before leaving.

Two hours later, Carrie Kelley was skipping into the main living room of Wayne Manor, where several of her siblings played video games and with their father reading the newspaper on the side, the perfect illusion of a normal, happy, completely human family.

She walked up to Bruce, sitting on the arm of his sofa as the last of her illusion magic slipped away

"Did you do it?"

"I offered them the deal, still not sure if they'll end up actually agreeing to it"

"Mn. You did well"

The young teen preened under the praise, thanking her father before going off to boast and scheme with the rest of her siblings, they were up planning contingencies and devising plans until Sundown.

[sparks-and-smoke]

Hello!

What about an avengers reader and bucky fic where reader dosnt realize they are in an depressive episode but bucky or steve or both ( platonically or romantically) notices.

Haha I just surfaced from a major depressive episode so that's where the inspiration came from.

Also hi!

Hi <3 this one is a little longer because, well I guess I needed it too. Plus fluffy lovey Stucky is my bread and butter. 

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky barnes x reader, Stucky (but not really the focus)

Content/Warnings: mental health, depression, anxiety, self care

Author Note: as someone who also struggles with mental health I personally loved this ask. Thank you, and I hope your feeling better sweets. Take care. 

(Bonus note from my editor @voice-of-velhart)

Editor Note: Depression is not an easy thing to make your way out of, but I'm proud of ya'll for pushing through it and I'm glad your here. <3

The brain fog was the thing that set in first. It was hard to fall out of a routine living in the compound. Day in and Day out it was training and meal regimens. Sparring and paperwork. Someone was always around and yet you felt like you were drifting. Going through the motions with little to no reason to do so other than if you didn’t what else would fill your day. No one seemed to notice your lack of enthusiasm, or how your typically attentive nature had been slipping lately. Your reports were still on time and you weren’t pulling your punches in training so you were probably fine… right?

It was burn out or maybe you were feeling under the weather. At least that's what you told them if they asked. And while your friends and team loved you, they were busy people with the literal weight of the world on their shoulders. So who could blame them when they didn’t keep tabs, or at least you thought they didn’t keep tabs. 

Bucky sat in the library trying to find a fantasy book he hadn’t already read. Tony was a brilliant guy but he had horrible taste in written fiction. As he perused, he kept you in his peripheral vision. You stared down at your now cold cup of coffee looking lost even though you weren’t moving. He had noticed you are like this a lot the last few weeks. You shower less and less, your normally shiny maintained hair more often than not on the greasy and dull side of the spectrum. And he hadn’t seen you touch the piano or your switch in days. He was getting concerned. 

He taps Steve with his foot. “What?” 

The big guy had been deep in thought, sprawled out in a lounge chair with his nose in a tablet. “Have you noticed Angel is different lately?” 

Steve glanced up, taking a look at their girl as she swirled the coffee in her mug, totally disassociating. “Yeah, she said she was under the weather. I tried to get it out of her what was wrong but she’s being cagey.” his brows knit together in a mask of concern. “Sure is lingering a long time to be just a bug, don't cha think?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah I do… what are we gonna do about it.” 

Steve sighed heavily and set down his tablet, giving the issue his full attention. He thinks back to those long cold winters in brooklyn. When the snow was deep and his bones would ache so bad he didn’t wanna get out of bed. There were always little things that would help him get out of those slumps. Bucky making him get up and shower was always a good start, followed by warm food and if they could find it, sunlight. 

“I think we're gonna start by helping our girl feel human again..” 

~~~~

Steve and Bucky formed a game plan. The two men are nothing if not efficient and tactical. Steve went down stairs to start food. Something starchy and savory. Comfort food. Meanwhile, Bucky started operation Angel Self Care. 

“Angel.” Bucky's voice was soft, wrapped in warm velvet. And you barely registered it before he was crouching down and smoothing back your hair from your face. Taking your untouched cup out of your hand. “How long have you been sitting here, beautiful?” 

You shook your head as if you could wave away the mist behind your eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Lost track of time I guess.” Bucky just hums. Yeah, he knows that feeling. He also knew it never led anywhere good. 

“Lost in thought?” 

You looked up to meet his gaze, warmth and concern mixing in the set of his jaw and the draw of his brows. “Yeah I guess. I’m fine babe. Don’t worry about it I’m just..”

“Feeling under the weather. Yeah, I know. You’ve been saying that a lot lately. I’m starting to think it’s a cop out.”

It is and you know it but you don’t know what else to say. “I just. I don’t know what wrong with me lately. I just… I don’t wanna do anything. Like anything ya know? It’s like sometimes waking up alone is all I have in me for the day. Do you know how that feels.”

If anyone knew how you felt it was Bucky. Hell sometimes he still felt that way, decades of torture and actions out of his own control had left him with more then his own share of depressive tendencies that drag him deep down under the current of reality pretty regularly. There are days he goes completely nonverbal, only going through the motions on autopilot. The only people who can pull him out are Steve, and you. And therapy, lots of therapy. “Of course I do. You know I do. But Angel, you can’t live there. It’s ok to feel it, but you need to acknowledge it and try to crawl back out. It’s ok if you can’t do it alone baby.”

You feel a thick lump forming in your throat that you can’t quite swallow down. The urge to argue, to tell him your fine and he’s being overbearing was there. But more then that you knew he was right. Something was wrong, and you couldn’t climb out on your own. But you weren’t ready to say it. Not yet. 

“Come on honey, let’s get you cleaned up and get some food in your belly. That might help a little.” Bucky didn’t wait for you to protest, he slid one arm under your legs and the other around your back and headed up to Steve’s quarters. Not caring in the slightest if teammates or recruits saw. That was a problem for later Bucky. 

~~~~

The big six had full apartments in the upper levels of the compound. Which means he could squirrel you away to Steve’s private bath and get you in the shower. Vetiver and pine, a familiar comforting scent. Gently and quietly he started the shower to an acceptable temperature for you (hot enough to turn your skin the next shade of blush.) and stripped you down to help you in. 

There was nothing sexual about the way he did this. It was all just about loving you. Helping you, as  he guided you into the water and let it wash away your stress. He pulled you back against his chest. “There’s my girl. That feel better Angel?” 

You nod as the smell of Steve’s body wash fills the small space. “Do you mind if I wash you?” 

With your permission he sets about cleaning you up. Slow loving strokes over your body as he pulls you back to lean on his chest. “You know you can talk to us about anything right. Steve and I love you. You’ve been here for us. Let us do the same.” 

“I would tell you… if I knew why I felt this way.” You confess. “If I had some inkling of what I needed to get out to feel better but I don’t.” 

Your voice wavers and it breaks Bucky's heart just a little. He wants to fix it. But he knows he can’t. All he can do is be there for you. “Well, I’m glad you trust me enough to help you.” He tilts your head back. Starting to wash your hair. “We’ll just take it one step at a time till we find ground again. Ok?

~~~~ 

Downstairs Steve fretted over the stove. Sweet potato pierogi and with onions and butter. It was easy, simple even. But it always made him feel better as a kid and the few times he had made it you liked it. He looked up as he heard feet pad down into the kitchen. Hair still damp, but clean. In fresh sweats and Bucky's shirt. 

“Ahh, there you are. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah… a little.” You admit, sitting on a stool across the island. 

Steve rounds the counter to kiss your forehead. “You look better.” He inhaled her skin, the longer scent of his soap and Bucky's touch still there, along with that sweet undertone that was all you. “Smell better too.” He teased. 

You breath out your nose with a half hearted huff. “Thanks.” 

“Always angel. Here. I made you some food. You don’t have to eat it all but at least a few bites would ease my mind. And then maybe we can go up to the room and get you some sun hmm? Would you be ok with that.” Steve slid the colorful pasta across the counter to you with a warm smile. Trying to coax you to follow his lead. 

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You eat mostly in silence. Steve and Bucky don’t push you to talk as you fill your stomach. You know they're worried. But even just these small gestures are helping you feel like maybe there is an end to this malaise. You see Steve smile and kiss Bucky softly in thanks as they wait for you to tell them you're ready. 

They spend the rest of the day trying to get you some sun. Fresh air and movement. 

“We’re gonna do this a little everyday till you start feeling better. And if you need it or feel up to it we can look into talking to a therapist too.” Steve assures. His hand firmly laced through your own. “You are not alone in this. We all feel this way sometimes. But I’m proud of you for trying love.”

A flicker of hope flies in your chest at his words. You aren’t alone, this isn’t forever. And your men are gonna love you through it till you can do it on you own.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request a world famous chef reader for Sae, Reo, and Barou (separate)?

BLUE LOCK + Sae/Reo/Barou + Chef Reader

Sae never considered himself a picky eater. He just didn’t enjoy eating.

To him, it just seemed like a lot of work. If he had it his way, Sae would have it so that he got all his daily nutrition from a single, beige dietary block, so he could just eat it and move on with his day. Sadly, he knew he couldn’t do that. And being an athlete striving to be the greatest in the world, he had to not only eat a balanced diet but also often to keep his strength up. Annoying.

“What’s this?” Sae asked as he came into the kitchen. A necessity as that was where the water was, and the only thing he was interested in this early in the morning, and found the table set for breakfast.

“I thought you might like to change it up a little this morning and actually eat with me.” [Y/N] told him. Optomistic, even as Sae frowned.

He knew he was dating a chef and they were good at their job. Or, at least Sae assumed they were. He had never eaten their cooking, but knew they were pretty famous for it. “I just want water and salt kombucha.”

“Aww…come on…” They playfully whine at him. Stabbing the corner of a multi-vegetable frittata and offering it to him. “One little bite? You might not be so cranky in the morning if you ate something.”

Sae’s frown creased deeper. He wasn’t cranky in the morning. He was just…tired.

Realizing they weren’t going to let this go, and it was wasting more time arguing than just taking a bite, Sae opened his mouth to be fed what was offered and was surprised by all the flavors in his mouth. Salty, but a little sweet from the eggs. Savory, but still with a bite from the tomato.

His stomach growled loudly. Seeming to cry out in joy that it might get some actual food this morning, rather than just water and salt kombucha. Sae coughed once as he swallowed. “I guess I have time for breakfast before I head to training.”

[Y/N] beamed and pulled out his chair for him. Maybe it wasn’t such a waste of time after all.

Being from a wealthy family, Reo has had some of the finest chefs in the world cook for him. All of it was magnificent. Polished. A work of art in every bite.

And just like art it had about as much true flavor as cardboard.

Though the flavors were all unique and carefully curated, Reo had never enjoyed them. Like fireworks they were bright & colorful in the moment, but faded instantly. Each meal he never left hungry but was never satisfied either. Until he tried their cooking.

“It’s passion.” [Y/N] told him as they dished him out another serving on a plate. Reo’s first and only time he had ever asked for seconds in his life. “And love. It’s cliché, but when you put these things into your cooking, people can taste it. It feeds the soul and not just the belly.”

His spoon stopped just at his mouth, and Reo realized what they meant. He did feel full for once. Not just his stomach, however, but every part of his being. A warm feeling from something other than the spices filling him up to the point the he felt himself flush. “Well, you can’t market ‘love’.” He told Reo as he took his bite and continued eating. Trust him. If you could his father would have done it.

Reo even asked for a third helping to take home. The leftovers clutched close to his chest as the warmth from the container, the food inside, and more importantly the person how made it, seeped into him. Like a pseudo hug. He was almost tempted not to eat the leftovers when he got home, but couldn’t help himself.

“Oi. Move.”

Barou didn’t even give them time to move out of the way as he was already pushing past them towards the sink. Effectively and efficiently getting them out of the way, just like he would on the field, towards his intended goal.

“Hey! You don’t have to push!” [Y/N] clipped at him. “I said you didn’t have to help.”

“You do them wrong.” Barou said as he picked up where they left off in washing the dishes.

In reality, they weren’t actually bad at it. Barou just wanted to help. [Y/N] put in all this work for making his meals. Making sure they were hot & ready for him when he got back from training or a game. Making sure they had all the macros he needed to perform. That they were also tasty. A lot of their skills as a world class chef were wasted on him as Barou would literally eat anything, but he appreciated it. So, he wanted to help where he could. “See. Spots. They didn’t teach you how to wash dishes properly at that fancy culinary school?”

[Y/N] growled, but eventually left him alone to finish and clean the kitchen for them. Barou didn’t mind. He liked the quiet. Still, he would bring them a pudding later as an apology for dessert while they watched a movie.

[cornerdreams-txt]

quick headcanons about the new characters in the bo6 crew :)

black ops 6 was phenomenal, btw. i loved it. please come talk to me about it. please. please. please. please. please. pl

★ william "case" calderon

— known to dissociate or space out frequently, but is easily pulled out of it. it's on his record, but it's never caused enough problems for command to really get concerned about it.

— fidgets with his holsters when he's on edge. it's too quiet, or he's waiting for something to happen, he'll rub his fingers against the leather of the straps, or catch his nail on the metal of the buckles, over and over again. even if the weapon inside, blade or gun, is already drawn.

— seems uneasy around smoke or fog, shifty eyes and a pinched brow, but whenever its brought up, he's confused. seems like he has no idea that air that's... thicker, maybe, is a good descriptor, seems to put him on edge.

— unbothered by bugs, snakes, and any kind of creepy-crawly. seems to enjoy them, if anything - helped handle spiders and other insects or pests that found their way into the safehouse. biting insects seem to love him, though - mosquitoes especially. probably a blood type thing, right?

— avid horror enjoyer. seems uneasy about human experimentation, though. him and woods both seem to dislike that kind of trope.

★ troy marshall

— art is a coping skill, and hobby, of sorts. he keeps a pocket sketchbook and a handful of pens in his pockets whenever he can so he can pull it out when the inspiration arises.

— the longer the group stayed in the safehouse, the more that sketchbook filled up with portraits and still life sketches. people, interactions, architecture, sunrises, scenery. memories, ones troy couldn't help but want to capture.

— definitely a motorcyclist. did you see how he handled that bike with case on the back of it? that was NOT this man's first rodeo. 110% has a motorbike of his own. his biker jackets cycle in and out of his daily wardrobe at seemingly random.

— terrible cook. cannot make complex dishes to save his life. can follow instructions, sure, and makes a damn good sandwhich, but do not trust him to make soup or anything of the sort from scratch.

— ...isn't terrible at cooking meat, though. says he learned how to grill from his parents, but didn't really give the team many chances to see for themselves.

— seems to almost act as an older brother figure to the team instinctively. based on how he responds to jokes about him being a mother hen, it doesn't seem like he realizes he does it. (it is welcome, though. the compassion is nice, in such a harsh field)

★ sevati dumas

— very task oriented. you give her a goal and the right motivation, and she'll do it. very very headstrong, though. doesn't like taking orders unless compensated properly.

— food motivated. loves a good savory dish. enjoys exploring other cultures through that. but, no, she will not accept food as payment. nice try.

— good at acting lax and unbothered, but does, in fact, care very deeply. she's empathetic, but forces herself not to show it. she's had that be taken advantage of once, and she refuses to let that happen again.

— very reluctant to get attached or form connections to others, see her admitting she's only with the team until she gets paid. but she still hangs around felix, and she still tries to talk to troy when harrow's fellowship with the pantheon was unveiled. seems like she's not perfect when it comes to avoiding getting attached, is she?

— vibes only but like. i feel like she wants a little sibling. she wants someone she can take care of. she wants to be a good family member to someone, but having a child... no. she refuses to be a mother. she doesn't want to be a wife. she wants to be her own person. (she'd make a great godmother. or aunt. if she had the chance, and if she tried)

★ felix neumann

— if this man isn't autistic i am going to swallow a leather jacket whole like a snake. by the way. just sayin.

— the gloves were a paranoia result. they're metaphorical, sure, a reminder to himself not to harm anyone else, no taking another human life, but also a horrible, creeping paranoia eased in, of "what if they find your fingerprints," "what if you get blood on your hands again," "what if what if what if" until he could only ease it by wearing gloves. worked nicely, in the end. taking them off was... cathartic. to say the least.

— probably an anarchist? the vibes are there. hates society. hates government. wants to dismantle it all and start from scratch. that's the vibe.

— you... my special little man, get the nature autism. this guy can go on for hours and hours about the critters case finds around the safehouse, and case listens attentively and happily. also fantastic at foraging, has dozens of safe-to-eat and unsafe-to-eat plants stored away in his brain, and can rattle off the facts at a moment's notice.

— not the best hunter, but is, amusingly, better with a bow when it comes to hunting than he is with a gun.

— would code simple video games (think similar vibes to the chrome dinosaur game) to play for fun if he got bored enough. good thing he's excellent at finding things to distract himself with, no?

★ jane harrow

— photography lover. not fantastic about herself, but she'll sit and analyze photos taken by others for minutes on end, noting all the little details captured by a camera lense freezing the moment in time.

— does the same with drawn art. paint, sketch, whatever, she'll sit and analyze every little detail she can and point it all out. she loves noticing the details. calling attention to them. letting the artist know, if she can, that she sees all the effort they put into their work.

— her guilty pleasure? window shopping for stuffed animals. always writes it off as being for her niece, or a friend's child, but she wants to collect them. there's something soft, precious, genuine and uncomplicated about plush toys. but she's an adult. she can't afford to be so childish.

— ...alongside the drawing troy made of her, she still also keeps the little teddy bear he insisted on buying for her as a thank you gift, once. but that one isn't in her office. she hides it, away from prying eyes.

— mildly claustrophobic. she can push through it, and she will, when it comes to what her job demands of her, but she likes to avoid enclosed spaces when she can get away with it. it's... easier. feels less like being cornered. (she dances around the real reason she hates it. she never wants to be stuck hiding in a closet, or tucked under a little girl's bed ever, ever again.)

[maladaptivewritings]

Johnny "Soap " McTavish Head-canons

My personal Headcanons on this man includes: Appearance, family and more

Soap is pretty straightforward, we know a good bit about his personality and such. So these are more of my ramblings of what I think about when I really start writing things.

Appearance

Definitely was the kid with unnerving blue eyes in school. Iykyk

Unlike Ghost and Price, he doesn't have a dad bod. Just built like that, honestly.

Used to play rugby in secondary school, he was too slow for football.

He has a tattoo on his shoulder blade, an inside joke from his secondary school mates. He was the only one to actually get it, but he doesn't know yet

The Mohawk turns into a mullet within a month. He hates it, hence the awkwardly high taper.

Birthmark that is giant on his right thigh. He'll claim when flirting that it definitely looks like the Eiffel Tower.

He looks like his older brothers, to the point where most think he's a triplet. His mom would confuse them growing up, and he hated it.

Curly hair soap!!!! If he would just take care of it!!!!

Scar on his chin, hidden by scruff from when he was learning to ride a bike. He busted it up on some gravel and had to get stitches when he was nine.

Family

Two older brothers and two younger sisters. Older brothers are twins and share the J-name theme. His sisters are 6 years separated.

His mother is a hard-core Roman Catholic. His dad is just a guy. He's tired and just goes to mass.

His hometown is by the shore, his brother Joseph is a fisherman.

His other brother James is a soon-to-be father. Soap is astounded that his brother could be tolerated, and also that he could spoil some chubby baby.

Would kill someone if his sisters asked nicely

No living grandparents, just feels like it makes sense truly.

He and his sister's are jealous of their brothers. They had met the last 'set' of grandparents.

In order of birth; Joseph, James, Johnny, Theresa, and Tatiana.

Theresa is closest to age to Soap, only a 3 year gap. Compared to his brothers who are 5 years older.

Personality

Unlike Simon, Soap in and out of deployment is quite similar. He is still a jokester and crude when home so long as his mother is not around

Despises the color red, like scarlet red. No real reason outside of it's ugly.

Similarly, will choose blue-colored foods if given the choice. His mom actually just refused to give them red foods claiming it was an allergy

Adhd, bad. Should of had ritalin or adderall growing up and maybe he would’ve gone to University over the military.

Draws people, but has facial blindness. He will draw targets in the median of his notebooks to make it easier.

Prefers smaller, hunting dogs to bigger ones. Riley and him just don't get along well.

Decent drinker, but can't drink whiskey. It burns his throat in a way that makes him writhe, he'll try with simon and when he's shitfaced.

Doesn't smoke as much compared to the rest of the guys. Cigarettes are few but he always has a pack on him, just in case.

Tried to use chewing tobacco once, threw up.

Taste's

He is a coffee man, loves a slightly sweet coffee. He order's cold-brew when he has the chance.

Savory over sweets, gifts given will be rich. Dark Chocolates and wines or ales when celebrating.

Wastes time with crossword puzzles, it's his 'old man' hobby.

Beef with the United states, but prefers the east coast to the west. If asked further he would tell you he'd love to hike the Appalachian trail.

Loves 'stoner' movies, that makes him think. Big Lebowski being a comfort and uses scenes to react in group chats.

[butterflyprompts]

🍲 Fluffy Cooking Prompts 🍲

(as usual, these prompts are 100% free to use for anything! credit isn't necessary either, but if you do write with one of these please feel free to share it with me! i'd be happy to read it! i also take prompt requests!)

Character A has a hopeless crush on Character B. They struggle to word their feelings (whether it's shyness or pride preventing them from expressing their love!), so instead they use food to express how they feel. Maybe it's through baking them treats, or bringing them a homemade lunch!

Character A accidentally (or purposefully!) pavloving a very food-driven Character B

Character A makes something delicious for Character B. Unable to get it out of their mind, Character B asks them to teach them how to make it.

Plot twist: Character A can barely focus with Character B around. Maybe B is just a huge goofball. Maybe they've got a crush, and can barely think because they're so nervous. Or maybe Character B is just intimidating! Either way, things take a turn for the worst!

Or: Character A bought it from the store, lied to impress B, and now has to scramble to find a recipe and not get caught in their web of lies by B!

Character A loves to cook, but with a sudden injury/illness/mental episode/whatever works for your character, they are barely able to feed themselves. Now it's up to Character B, who is determined to both cheer them up and cook them a delicious meal.

Character A can't cook. Maybe they get too creative with the seasonings, maybe they are lazy/impatient and try to take shortcuts that end up ruining the dish, maybe they have a special talent for turning everything they touch into a textural nightmare (just HOW do you get instant noodles to look like that, Character A?!) Despite these challenges, they are determined to impress Character B with their cooking!

Domestic fluff! Character A having a home-cooked meal ready for Character B when they get home after a long day. Bonus points if it's the character you'd LEAST expect to be acting like a housewife. Give them the frilly apron, they're ready.

Character A stressing themselves silly trying to learn Character B's favorite childhood dish! Maybe they're able to impress B with how close it gets, or maybe Character B finds it's not quite right but loves it all the same, because it reminds them so much of Character A.

Use symbolism in your food! Bitterness, sweetness, salty, savory, sour... All of these can reflect emotions! The way characters react to food can tell a lot about them too. Can they handle bitterness? Spiciness? Do they grin and bear it if they can't? Do they feel safe enough to admit they don't enjoy it, as childish as it may make them sound? Or do they put on airs, wish to impress the other? Certain dishes have symbolism as well, such as this list of foods with religious symbolism!

Post-meal fluff! Who does the dishes? What do they do after their meal? Do they cuddle on the couch together after dinner? Do they prepare for bed, or are they night owls? What about lunch, or breakfast? Do they have plans after their meal? Maybe one, or both fall into a post-meal coma!

Character A surprising Character B with breakfast in bed. Maybe it's a random sweet gesture, maybe they're trying to butter B up, or maybe they're trying to earn back some brownie points after a fight! Also great for sickfics. Spoil Character B!

[absolutebl]

To my noble ABL, 🙇

Since you brought up the subject yourself, and I couldn’t find the relevant info in your tags, I’d like to request your advice. You see, I’m on social welfare, love BLs/QLs/GLs as much as the next person but I don’t have an enormous budget. So getting a premium on all streaming services (Gaga, WeTv, iQIYI, Viu, etc.) is definitely out of my reach. But could you maybe briefly xplain what services there are, whether they’re free and (most importantly) which one is most worth a paid subscription?

Thank you so much in advance.

Yours truly,

— Thel. 💚

P.S. I promise I’ll like and reblog your advice once you’ve published it! 🙏

Okay so I did a deep dive statistical analysis a while ago (which streaming service is worth your money on strictly BL grounds) and that is here:

I go into who has what, how much, and quality of subs. I'll repost and tag you. I also go an a huge rant about rewarding content providers so there's that too.

Since then iQIYI has come up a lot in terms of squatting content, but I still feel like they are one of the worst user experiences (I mean I pay and they still serve ads? that's bull) and most dangerous in terms of data mining and parent company. So be on your guard with both them and WeTV. It's why I'm unsure about upgrading my WeTV.

Since you specifically requested low income advice here it is:

YouTube. It's free, a lot of the Thai stuff is there, or airs there first. My advice is SUBSCRIBE to the channels that host the content and then use your Subscribe tab as a feed. Also like and comment on the videos. You are getting this, essentially, for free (you will need to sit through ads) but please be generous and give back to the content creators/channels. Especially the small ones like Strongberry. The kindest thing you can do as a consumer is subscribe, like, comment. ALSO this will train the algos, so when new (smaller) channels come along with obscure BL the algos will know what you like and recommend it to you. (Even grey stuff, although that won't last on an upload for very long. So that's my other tip, watch ASAP.) If you need to create a second/dummy gmail/google account for this (anonymity), then do that. Just use a different browser for all your BL content. A VPN can help with this. For example a lot of the GMMTV shows that are now on iQIYI in the USA are on their YT channel in Europe (or Thailand of course), to you just need to set your VPN to a different location, and can watch them on YT.

Subscription services with free content options like Viki or WeTV. Last I checked quite a few of the older BLs on Viki were available without a PAID subscription (this might have changed) same with WeTV. You need to sit through ads, but there are some shows there.

Gagaoolala paid. If you are going to pay for any streaming service I always suggest this one. Not only are they the cheapest of the bunch (and there is only the one level of money which is something like $6.99 a month), they have a lot of older prestige and more obscure content and they are queer focused. This is a Taiwanese platform and I like and support everything about it. Which I don't say about many streaming services. If you have a fixed income and limited budget then being thoughtful with your money is often difficult, Gaga allows for both.

After that, the others are all pretty similar in terms of cost to content value. That blog post above does go into your grey and less savory options. Since I rarely consume free (savory or not) I can't really speak to the situation right now.

Time once was the only way to get things was grey or fansubbed and so then I felt better about doing it, but now almost every new piece (even from Japan) has some kind of distribution deal with some streaming platform.

You have another option which is to wait until most of the shows you want to watch have finished their runs and then subscribe for only a month or two, binge everything, and then unsubscribe.

Generally the slow season in BL is end of the year. So if you have some time in December -February, this would be the time of year to do that. (Most of the major shows are done and no new ones have started up.)

I hope this helps.

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 28

Part 27

The two of them went on that lunch picnic, chaperoned of course. While they sat on a blanket, enjoying treats both sweet and savory, a maid sat on a stool nearby, one eye on them and another on the book in her hand. After a while, they tried to see what they could get away with. Moving from opposite sides of the blanket to sitting right next to each other was allowed.

But when they started feeding each other, they heard her clear her throat in warning. Steve found he couldn’t help himself. Every time he put a piece of food into Eddie’s mouth, the king kissed the pad of his thumb. When Eddie fed him in return, Steve could only think how much he wanted to take more than the tip of his finger in his mouth.

After hearing their chaperone go ‘ahem’ for the fifth time, Eddie surrendered and rolled away to the other side of the blanket.

“You are simply too charming of a temptation”, Eddie sighed.

“Perhaps we need two sets of eyes watching us”, Steve laughed.

Eddie was wonderful. It was a mantra that filled Steve’s head over and over again. It was hard not to repeat it when he sat in front of his new vanity in his new room, just a few doors down from Eddie’s. All of his gifts had been thoughtful and considerate. Normally, the one pursued did not return the favor to their suitor. A courtship was supposed to be one side showing the other that they were able to care and provide to them; a way to showcase their good points. 

But Steve couldn’t just let it all be showered upon him. As amazing as it felt to be spoiled. Thoughts rolled around in his head as he brushed his hair in front of the mirror. What could he give the king that no one else could?

‘Well, there is one thing’, in the privacy of his own room, he felt no need to hide his blush. But, well, if they were doing things properly then that wouldn’t be happening for some time. He was still technically a prince, and normally would have access to a treasury with which to buy gifts himself. But he had no such access here.

“Something only I can do…”

He pondered it for about a day when the idea came to him. It was a longshot, for certain. But there was always the chance that it just might yield something. Steve was, after all, still royalty. He spent an afternoon writing up a letter to his parents. As he wrote, he realized there was someone else he should give a message to as well.

Steve brought the letter to Eddie, who was in the middle of his own paperwork in his study. He looked up, relieved to see Steve and get a break from the words dancing across the page.

“I want to send something to my kingdom”, Steve said right away.

“To your parents? Whatever for?”, Eddie asked, worry marring his face.

“I know they didn’t respond to anything you sent them. But maybe they’ll react to something from me. I want to tell them about my stay here and that I, that I am being courted by a king.”

Eddie stood up from his desk and moved around it to be closer to Steve. “I know I didn’t ask your father his permission but-”

“You don’t owe him anything”, Steve said, shaking his head. “But this is something I might be able to give to you. I know you didn’t start romancing me because of my status. But if our union is able to bring about peace for both our countries, then I want to try and negotiate a treaty.”

“Now where did you inherit such grace and generosity? It couldn’t have been from your folks”, Eddie teased, leaning in close to Steve. 

“There’s one more thing”, Steve said, holding another letter in front of his face. 

Eddie peered at it, cross-eyed from being so close. “Oh? Have you started writing me love letters?”

“Actually, it’s for someone else. Someone I owe an answer to.” He opened the letter, just enough for Eddie to see who it was addressed to.

“Oh. I see.”

“And I need to deliver it personally.”

“You know I must accompany you.”

---------------

Steve rode into town and made his way to the Carver’s. Jason was at the counter, could be seen through a window. As Steve dismounted, he left the counter and walked out, eyes blazing with fury.

“Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry. I know-”

“I said this would happen. I let you out of my sight and you disappeared on me. I haven’t seen you in-”

“I know”, Steve held up a hand. “Jason, listen. I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

Jason crossed his arms. “That feels like an understatement. For all I know you could have skipped town on me. You must have come to agree to my proposal. Come inside, we’ll talk there.”

“No. I apologize, but I didn’t come to begin a life with you. It’s all here in this letter”, Steve held it out, sealed with wax.

Jason snatched it from his hand. “You came all this way, tell me to my face why you’re rejecting me.”

“I am being courted by someone else. And when the moment comes, I intend to accept his proposal.”

His horse whinnied from behind and Jason took a moment to look at it. It wasn't the usual one he saw Steve with. It was black as night, with an untamed mane. He took in Steve too, from his perfectly styled hair, to the new boots on his feet. His frown only deepened. He didn’t look like a traveling man, who went from town to town.

“You found some aristocrat to take pity on you?”

The horse struck a hoof against the ground, like it took offense on behalf of Steve. Steve stroked the horse’s muzzle, calming them and then sighing himself.

“Everything I want to say is in that letter.” Steve mounted his steed. “You may not believe all that I’ve written, but the truth will come to light soon.”

Steve rode away, leaving Jason with his final word. A fire burned through him and Jason had half a mind to rip the letter to shreds. Instead, he stomped right up to his room to be alone as he read it. The more he absorbed, the more he couldn’t believe. That Steve was a prince? That he was being courted by the king? Jason knew of the Harringtons and the troubles they had brought to their kingdom.

To know that their prince was here…had been here…had been right under Jason’s nose. He had been roaming the streets freely and now what? He had the king wrapped around his finger? The letter was under the mercy of Jason’s tightened grip. Steve being entranced by some aristocrat was one thing, Jason knew he couldn’t compete with that.

But an enemy of the kingdom seducing their ruler was another matter entirely. And the subjects of the land had a right to know about it.

Part 29

Taglist CLOSED

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

@goodolefashionedloverboi  @just-a-tiny-void  @0body0disphoria0  @cinnamon-mushroomabomination  @samsoble 

@jamieweasley13  @y4r3luv  @xtkxkrzrizir  @un-knownperson  @greekgeek24 

@justdrugsformethanks  @potato-of-the-lord  @notaqueenakhaleesi  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @queenie-ofthe-void 

@nebulainajar  @lil-gremlin-things  @nicememerino  @robininblue  @hornedqueenofhell 

@anne-bennett-cosplayer  @moomkin77  @here4thetrama  @bookworm0690  @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

[luvingjeanie]

Hello! This is my first time requesting. Like, REALLY first time that I ask someone a request I would like them to do! I'm pretty shy to do this at first, but I said to myself later then: 'Why not?'

I want my matchup to be one of the male JJK characters. Thank you!

My love languages are: acts of service, quality time, and physical touch. But what is mind-blowing is that I feel awkward receiving affection. Not that I'm allergic to it or whatsoever—I just don't grow up with it. I grow up with a family that shows their love in their... unique own ways. And words of affirmation isn't my thing, I act before I think. I can say words impulsively that could hurt someone even though I didn't mean the words I've said. The other thing is that I don't know how do I put my thoughts into words. And about acts of service, it's a way for me to feel useful at once. I love doing acts of service, so I wouldn't feel a burden anymore. That I can actually be helpful too. Quality time? If anything, I wanted to spend eternal with my partner. Like, only the both of us! You, me, and no one else. Doing things we like.

Few of my personality traits are: talkative (everyone in my family agrees that I talk too much), loud, annoying, and that I treat everything a joke (according to my mother, apparently). I don't know, but when I real get comfortable with someone? Expect me to overshare. Tell you the most random things. And sexual jokes... (I'm not proud about it). And I easily get attached. When you try to befriend me and getting close? Best believe I would always look for you. Try to match your energy. But in the end, I started to feel too much to them. I feel like I'm trying too hard to fit in. Like I'm seeking attention. When I act like myself? Nobody would match my freak (I'm definitely sorry for this 🥀💔😭). I'm a weirdo, basically. I talk too much because I have no one to talk to. I would try to fill in the silence because I don't wanna deal with my thoughts. No matter what, I feel lonely despite being surrounded by people (beta behavior. L to myself 🤕 /j)

And I absolutely can't stand bitter things. I like sweet and savory foods, but I can't pick one of them for once at all because I just CAN'T. It depends on what I'm craving for 🙏 But I can't stand too much sweet, and too much oily. Just in between.

My ideal dates? Probably going to a mall, eating, exploring, and playing at an arcade is a MUST. Oh, maybe picnic date? And aquarium date. It doesn't matter to me, to be honest, I just wanted to be by their side. ALL THE TIME. Unless I have to go or I want to go!

And I'm looking for a partner that I wanted to spend time with forever. I'm not the type of person to get flings, one night-stands, friends with benefits, or whatsoever, no. That's a turn-off for me (not shaming people who does these!) Like, I want a deep emotional connection. I don't do sex before marriage. For me, sex is sacred. Our first kiss HAVE to be special.

And I'm not the greatest for communicating. Let's have a talk? Sorry, gotta go! But that's why I don't want to be in a relationship yet when I know myself I'm not fit for it. I want where I wanted to be the best version of myself with my lover.

And whenever I'm going to have children, I'm gonna to raise them well as much as I could. I'll give them their needs that my parents didn't gave me (which is emotional support.) I wanted them to live comfortably, and I won't shame them for it. But I won't treat them TOO gently where I excuse them off when they have done a horrible thing. Like, a really, really, horrible thing. I'll teach them morals, of course. And I will support them whatever jobs they want. Like, go queen! (I'm sorry again #2) I just don't want them to experience what I experience. And I meant that from the bottom of my heart. Like, it's not backhanded. Genuine.

I hope those information can be helpful because I think I talk too much. And please, tell me when I said something that is off! And that's all. Even though I said I'm talkative, I just can't think of ideas to share about.

And no pressure! Please take your time. Thank you again! ⁠♡ (and moodhead (?) please! I forgot what it's called 🙁 This is so embarrassing.)

i'm honoured to be your first request, lovely! you sound super sweet and funny, and for what it's worth i'm sorry to hear about your family and their lack of emotional affection towards you :(

your jjk match is gojo satoru!!!

love me not by rayvne lenae is now playing...

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

✮ you strike me as being very similar to satoru, loud, a little childish at times, but always meaning well. i think satoru would work with someone similar to him, someone who can keep up, someone who can 'match his freak'.

✮ there's never a dull moment with you, and your out of place sexual jokes? satoru's always laughing, even if no one else is. he was always the boisterous one between him and his friends, so when he found you? someone similar, someone who doesn't make him feel irritating and incorrigible, god, he's smitten. the strongest is now suddenly the weakest man for you.

✮ our satoru is an overthinker, his mind being far more complex than people would think. it's an intricate labyrinth of worry and insecurity. whilst he appears cocky, immature, and laid back, he's not. it's a front, a coping mechanism to make people forget that he's the strongest, as the one thing satoru wants? it's to be human, normal, to not have the weight of the jujutsu world resting upon his shoulders, if even just for a moment. and you get that.

✮ words of affirmation aren't his thing either. that's not to say he can't be sweet, because he can, really, but aside from compliments, satoru is terrified of vulnerability sometimes. every time he tries, it comes out as if he were jokingly flirting, he's far better with quality time and physical touch.

✮ everything with this man is a date. every moment with you is cherished. moments with you are some of the best times of his life, and he wishes he could immortalise each single laugh, smile, and longing look shared. but he supposes his camera would do, so? he has a photo album, polaroid photos pinned to his wall, and one in his wallet. some are of the two of you, but so many are just candids of you, in your element, alone with him.

✮ thinking of your taste in foods, i can imagine you two get so easily distracted by any cafe or stall that looks even the slightest bit appealing, and despite being rich? staoru is going insane over the cute, tiny free samples. it annoys suguru and shoko to no end because the moment they hear 'babe! you have to try this, c'mon, open wiiiiide!', they know you'll be there until satoru is satisifed.

✮ he feeds you sometimes too, the guy thinks its romantic in the silliest way. and her purposely gets icing on your nose too, just to lick it off like a weirdo

✮ drive in movie? he spares no expenses, he's buying the most expensive treats and desserts for you both to snack on, and afterwards he takes you to a fast food place to cleanse your pallet with a burger because he knows too much sweetness isn't your thing

✮ despite loving your casual dates too, satoru loves treating you, and he has the money to do so. if flamboyance isn't your thing, he.ll save these more extravagant dates for anniversaries and valentine's day, but truly, as much as he jokes and jests and teases and taunts, satoru is a lover boy who wholeheartedly believes you deserves nothing but the finest.

✮ these extravagant dates will still be centred around what you love, but with an ostentatious, theatrical gojo satoru flair that just scream 'i have too much money and i don't know what to do with it'.

✮ he's rented out the section of an aquarium which holds your favourite marine animal, and there you have a private dinner, he crafts his own drive-in just for the two of you (back in jujutsu high he tried to make kento and suguru waiters for this, they did not agree much to his dismay), and for your birthday he took you to the mall and just shoved his card in your hands and told you to go wild.

✮ satoru also has the innate ability to make everything between you seem special and so deeply romantic when he wants to. underneath it all, he longs for you to understand just how deep his love and care for you runs, rooted unconditionally and irrevocably in the depths of his soul and heart.

✮ your first kiss, he smiled and laughed breathlessly, lips brushing yours for a few minutes as he just whispered sweet, slightly teasing, nothings before finally pressing his lips to yours, hands cradling your face which such ginger care you would think he was holding his mother's most expensive china dishes. it was slow, chaste, and innocent, the two of you entirely alone and in peace.

✮ he also deeply relates to the lack of emotional affection you received as a child, which he figures must be the reason he's so drawn to you. the gojo clan, he was nothing but a weapon to them. never a child, never a sweet little boy who needed a hug when he scarped his knee, or a child who needed someone to play with, no, he was the strongest. the strongest must learn to live without such trivial things. any slight mistake or wrong doing, that would be written off as an accident for anyone else, and a major failing when it came to satoru, because the strongest must be perfect.

✮ with you? you related to him in a way no one else ever has, and he's unsure if he'' ever be able to tell you how much it means to him. he's never felt more seen by a person in his life

✮ your acts of service also mean the world to him, he communicates his love through tender touches and his gifts, his time, just being there for you, but seeing how you love to do things for him? he's started to do the same for you!

✮ coffee in the morning? don't worry, he's got you. you've run out of deodorant, toothpaste, your favourite perfume, lip balm? he's already out in town, getting you more. if he gets up earlier than you, he's left your towel over the radiator so it's warm for when you get out of the shower. he knows they're only little things, but you do the same for him, and he wants to reciprocate your efforts even in the smallest ways.

"Oh, sweetnesssss!" That teasing, low voice you knew ll too well rang out from the distance. You could already see him grinning wildly, waggling his eyebrows like the idiot he was, standing too tall and too proud.

Despite the roll of your eyes and obnoxiously dramatic sigh that escaped from your lips, a fond smile graced your face. "Coming, 'Toru!"

Just as you predicted, he was grinning, almost on the verge of bounding around the little pastel confectionery stand that he almost dwarfed. It was clearly a pop up stall, a small business, but to Satoru that was a good thing. 'If you see a stall nearly falling apart, that's how you know it'll be good.'

Once you reached him, he wasted no time thrusting a small tray of mochi in your arms, and with no warning given, he was lucky you didn't drop the tray.

"Well go on, try! Eat, let the flavours melt in your mouth, experience the tooth decay inducing deliciousness-" He began to exclaim, as histrionically and melodramatically as one could, hands animatedly gesturing to the small, hand packaged tray before he popped a small ball into his mouth from his own tray.

"What flavour is it?" You snorted, ignoring his usual theatrics as you tore open the plastic wrap.

Chewing, he thought for a moment, eyes up to the sky before he shrugged. "No clue, I picked up like... one of each flavour." He grinned, turning to the side a little so you were able to see the tote bag he had, almost bursting with the sheer amount of sweets he had bought stuffed inside, "More like two actually."

"Oh! We can play a guessing game with the flavours!" He bumped your shoulders, throwing a ball of mochi up into the air before catching it in his mouth, and unfortunately it was quite impressive. But you didn't need to let him know that, your boyfriend's head was big enough as it is.

"No, no, go back," You laughed, going to rifle through his bag, still on his shoulder. Sure enough, there were at least two of each flavour in there. All in trays of six. God, he had practically cleared the stall out. "Toru, you're type two diabetes waiting to happen, oh my God!"

"Excuse me! Some of these are for you." He defended, the frown of a petulant child dragging his lips downwards. "Only some, though, they're mostly mine."

"You forget that I don't eat even half of the amount of sweets you do." You deadpanned. "I don't think anyone does, honestly. You're insane. Like, clinically."

Scoffing, he lazily slung an arm over your shoulder, whisking the two of you away from the stand and to wherever he felt like next, most likely some other store that sold more tooth-rotting snacks. "It's the thought that counts, who not just thank your super charming, thoughtful, handsome boyfriend for thinking of you?" He sounded almost chastising. "I could've been selfish and bought these just for myself."

"I'm going to snap all your cards." You threatened, and honestly, you weren't being serious, but saying it aloud actually made you think it was a good idea. His spending habits were dreadful.

"Wait, sweets don't be rash!"

[lets-try-some-writing]

Absolutely adore seeing all the bits of writing on the bots reactions to the kiddos 🤣 Fr makes my day, just scrolling though feed and BOom your writing! So I randomly thought of the kids doing barbecues or picnics and sharing all their grubby food like Oo try this and maybe not as it’s spicy. What I mean is I’m sure the bots wouldn’t understand how human food can have so many flavours.

Glad to brighten someone's day! I am honestly startled by how enthusiastic people are about TFP bots reacting to things. I haven't gotten this many notes in like, three months. Its crazy.

Anyway, lets roll with this.

Cybertronians do have a degree of flavoring involved in their fuel. However due to the nature of energon, there is only so much flavoring that can be added before it loses its nutritional value, turns into high grade, or explodes in some fantastic display. Not to mention their ability to taste is severely limited, partially due to the simple fact that their sensory systems are more focused on external stimuli or processor function. In fact, most Cybertronians can hardly taste, if they have an intake at all. It simply isn't part of their biology. They have no need for it. Of course some get modifications in order to have a wider range of taste, and some are forged with heightened senses, but as a general rule most do not have the ability to note much.

At most they can read sweetness, bitterness, and anything that is metallic in nature. But spiciness, savory flavors, and most of the finer flavors humans experience are simply out of their range. Fueling can be enjoyable, but for most of their kind, it is merely a way to keep on going. But humanity? They eat for FUN, and that is odder than the team expected it to be.

Watching the children swap food around for the sake of flavor is... strange to the team. Seeing Miko give up what they can tell is vegetation that is highly nutritious to humans for a bag of chips soaked in all sorts of chemicals left most of them in a state of confusion. Jack offered up a sandwich, the arguably healthier dish, for a handful of gummies. Rafael passed over some sort of meat in exchange for Miko's rice. The exchange of nutrition was not orderly or equal in any way or form. Then sometimes the children would just eat each other's food without regard for the nutritional value.

The team couldn't understand it. Sure Cybertronians would trade fuel at times, but rarely was nutrition a concern. Humans swapping fuel left and right was just a tad strange. Not incomprehensible, but strange nonetheless.

Smokescreen has tried to eat human good once just to see if he could taste it. He could not taste much at all and ended up purging for the next day due to the food not going well in his tanks. Bulkhead also made an attempt once when Miko offered him food. He was stuck with cheeto dust in the grooves of his jaw for almost a week before he gave in and went to the washracks to handle it. Wheeljack made direct optic contact with Ultra Magnus and purposefully ate an apple that was offered to him, just to watch the commander squirm of course. He had to purge it all up an hour later, but watching the reactions of those around him made it worth it.

Ultra Magnus was tricked into eating human food when it was put into his energon once (by a certain wrecker). Magnus tried to hold it together, but ultimately he too ended up needing to purge. Ratchet has given the "do not eat organic fuel" speech far too many times to be happy about it.