#fuck i just want to fucking tell my family that i love them and i want to hug them and feel loved and god i just dont fucking know how to

[harrington-stevie]

soft place to land | S.H.

Summary: You're his soft place. You're the one he turns to when things get difficult, the one who cleans him up when he gets into a fight. He's the broken guy who carries scars because of his problematic parents, but you are there to help keep him calm.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

Word count: 9.6k

Steve always knew when he was going to snap. It started with a simmering heat blooming in his chest. His ears would start ringing and his knuckles always became white from balling his fists too tight.

Most people assumed he was the cool, caring, loving guy. The one with the hair, the silly jokes and the effortless confidence. But behind those hazel eyes, there was a raging feeling that boiled his blood every time he had to hear his father talking shit about him straight to his face. And sometimes it only worsened when Jason Carver stopped by Family Video only to try and pick a fight. Because he knew Steve had a short temper.

But that wasn't always the real him, not really. And you knew that. Robin knew that too. But with you– it was different with you. He felt better when he was near you. He felt like himself most of the time.

Even though you were inside the convenience store with Robin and Eddie, he still lurched forward and punched Jason in the face, hitting his jawline. The jock moved backward and quickly jabbed at Steve's cheekbone.

His fists were still red when you saw him outside the old gas station, with his knuckles scabbed and a smudge of blood across his cheekbone. He was panting, there was a trace of dried tear that trailed his cheek. You crouched beside him, one hand on top of his shoulder, the other one carefully cradling his face to scan the injury.

Your heart shrunk at the sight of his trembling hands, at the way he was trying to avoid eye contact, because he knew he was supposed to get his shit together and he just couldn't. You gently brushed away the hair that was sticking to his forehead.

“Jason?” You asked in a low tone, and he let out a dry, bitter laugh. His teeth were pink with blood.

“Jason.”

You took a deep breath as you helped him up and leaned against the hood of his car, waiting for Robin and Eddie. They didn’t ask what happened but exchanged a knowing look with him before getting into the car in complete silence. You went back inside, grabbed some toilet paper, and moistened it to clean his face. It wasn't the most sanitary option, but it was enough to remove the smeared blood from his skin.

He winced at the touch, so you tried to avoid putting too much pressure on it. One hand supported his chin while you gently dabbed his cheek. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was in pain. Unable to meet your gaze, he felt ashamed of what had happened. Steve was reluctant to admit that he still struggled with controlling his anger, but you always assured him that you were there for him.

“I'm sorry” He rasped, his voice could barely be heard. His eyes were still roaming around a blank spot, avoiding you.

“Hey” You say, your fingers delicately lifting his head to face you “Don't do that. You know I'm always here.”

He tried to look away, but you ensured he looked at you.

“Yeah, but that's not who I want to be. That asshole keeps bringing up my parents all the fucking time.”

“I know, and he's a loser for that. But you need to remember that this is what he wants.”

His hazel eyes kept following yours, searching for comfort. Steve always found solace in you. He gave you a small smile and leaned into your touch. One of his hands found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before he went back to his car.

At Robin's, you cleaned his injuries and took care of them. As you always did, whenever it happened. A few times it would be his best friend when you couldn't be there to help. You set the cloth down and reached for the first aid kit under the sink, one you had used more than once on him over the years. Cuts, bruises, swollen jaws– all pieces of Steve that his parents never noticed or cared enough to ask about.

“You ever gonna stop throwing yourself into fights for an asshole?” You asked lightly, squeezing ointment onto your fingers.

“Probably not” He said, shrugging “Not if it means they get away with saying crap like that.”

Your fingers were soft when they touched the corner of his lip, cleaning off dried blood with a tenderness that made Steve's chest ache. He hated how his voice sounded too quiet in these moments. He didn't want to feel vulnerable.

“Does it scare you? When I get like this?”

You blinked, surprised by the question, feeling your hands still for a moment.

“No, it never has. Because you don’t get like this with me.”

Steve met your eyes without fear this time, seeing a curve on your lips.

It wasn’t a romantic moment. Not yet, but it was the kind of moment that found its place in the silence between the two of you. It felt quiet and raw, as if it were etched in the space separating you both. All he wanted was to hug you and hold on for just a moment.

You returned to cleaning him up, brushing your thumb along the edge of his jaw where a bruise had started to form.

“You’ve gotta stop letting your parents’ voices live in your head. They don’t get to take up space in there forever” Your voice was tender, and it echoed in his head.

Steve’s throat tightened, but he nodded. He didn’t say thank you, he actually never did. Not because he wasn’t grateful, but because he didn’t know how to say it in a way that would do justice to you. Instead, he let you patch him up in silence. And you did. Carefully, as if it mattered.

Later that night, after you had fallen asleep next to Robin and Steve was lying awake in her guest bedroom, staring at the ceiling, he thought about how you had looked at him. You weren't afraid; you never were. It was as if he wasn't a wreckage you had grown accustomed to cleaning up. He thought maybe he’d tell you one day; not in the middle of a fight or after another busted lip, but on a regular, nothing-special day. He would tell you that he noticed, that he always did. No one else had ever made him feel less of a mess just by being there.

But for now, he let the silence settle, let you stay asleep, safe from everything, even from the worst parts of himself. For once, Steve Harrington didn’t feel like he was on the verge of breaking down. He just felt... intact.

Because of you. Because you always appeared when he was falling apart. And because, little by little, he was learning that maybe he didn’t have to break alone anymore.

He looks at you differently when he thinks no one’s watching. It’s neither dramatic nor obvious. He doesn’t linger like some guy in a teen movie, nor does he stare enough for it to get awkward. But in those quiet moments, or when you’re laughing with Dustin at the arcade, chatting with Robin behind the Family Video counter, or even just standing beside him in line at the gas station. His eyes find you like a magnet.

For example, you tuck your hair behind your ear without realizing it, or when you chew your lip while scanning the back of a VHS case. You don’t notice, but he does. Always. His gaze is soft, warm, and almost worshipping. Not because he’s trying to memorize you. He already knows you.

He just likes seeing you be… you.

He’s the only one who notices the small things. How you always tap the rim of your coffee cup twice - only ever with your left hand - before taking a sip. Or how you can’t stand milk in your coffee but still add exactly half a spoonful of sugar. Just enough to get the bitter taste off of it.

He never asked about those things. He just remembered. So every time he hands you a cup after school or during a shift at the video store, it’s perfect. You raised a brow at him the first few times, narrowing your eyes like you were trying to catch him off guard.

“Steve” You would say suspiciously and amused “How do you keep getting it exactly right?”

He’d just shrug, with a crooked smile “Magic. Or maybe I’m just very observant.”

You started calling it the “Steve Standard", almost playfully. But you always smiled when he handed it to you. To Steve, that smile felt like sunshine. Unbeknownst to you, he saw you as a safe haven during his difficult moments. And maybe, just maybe, he was becoming the same thing for you. There was something about sitting beside him when he broke down that created a special bond.

You never tried to pry, never forced words from him. You just sat there, too close to him, reaching out a hand for him. Sometimes you handed him a drink, sometimes you played with the edge of your sleeve until he could look you in the eye again. When his anger exploded, quick and hot as it always did, you never flinched. You weren’t afraid of him. You knew it wasn’t about you. And you never treated him like a broken person. You just… stayed.

Every single time.

And that's what made him so captivated by you. Not just because of that, but the entirety of it. He just wished he wasn't misreading the whole situation.

He was driving you home, throwing glances at you from the corner of his eyes, watching the way you would draw circles on your jeans. His hands tightened around the wheel, he urged to reach over and take your hand so bad that it hurt. But he didn't, not yet. Maybe it wasn't the right time for that yet. Because whatever this was. it wasn’t some high school infatuation anymore. Not after everything.

Then there was that night he called you. You could hear it in his voice before he even said a word: something was wrong. So you grabbed a movie, a six-pack of root beer, and showed up without asking. You sat on the floor together, your backs against the couch. The movie played, but neither of you really watched. He cried quietly, his shoulders shook. He was angry and ashamed. He told you about his dad’s latest blow-up that made him feel humiliated. How he had looked his son in the eye before slamming the door and muttering “no wonder everyone leaves you.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just pressed your hand flat against his chest, showing you could hold all the broken pieces together.

“I'm still here” You promised him. And he kept sobbing, his head resting on your shoulder.

Your hands played with his hair. His hands held your back tightly, as if he was about to break anymore than he already had.

“Thank you, Angel. I love you.”

He loved calling you Angel. More importantly, he loves you more than he could admit.

He remembers that moment more than anything. Maybe more than he should. On a Saturday morning, you walk into Family Video smiling, your hair all disheveled from the wind. He feels like someone just punched him gently in the chest. That’s what you do to him. You ruin him in the most careful way. Sometimes, he imagines telling you everything. Just blurting it out like an idiot.

You’re the only one who makes me feel like I’m not ruined.

But it always feels too much. Too soon. So instead, he memorizes the sound of your laugh. How your voice softens when you’re tired. The crease between your brows when you’re trying to finish a crossword puzzle. How you always reach for his hand when you’re crossing a busy street, even if neither of you ever acknowledges it.

He holds onto those things like a lifeline.

Because with you, it’s never been about impressive gestures. It’s about the late-night drives, the playlists you build together, the quiet understanding in your gaze when he lies and says he's fine. Even though you know he's the farthest from being fine. You treat his silence, in a way that it’s a sacred matter. Not something to fix. He doesn't need fixing, he needs reassurance, he deserves to know no one is going to leave him just as his parents make it look like that's the truth.

He knows deep down that he’ll never be the same after you. Even if he’s not ready to say it out loud yet, he knows it in his bones: you are the only person in his life who makes him want to be better. Not to prove something. Just to be worthy of the space you’ve opened for him in your world. You are the calm after his storm. And he’s learning, even if slowly, quietly and patiently how to be still in it.

You love snapping pictures whenever you hang out with everyone. They always make funny faces and strike poses to get the best of it. Most importantly, you love capturing Steve and memorizing every moment. He doesn't even complain, he just leans into it. He likes it when you take pictures of him.

You're in the parking lot of the gas station just outside Hawkins, the golden sunrays cast highlights in his hair, his sunkissed freckles glow. Steve’s leaning against the driver’s side door of his car, his hair perfectly brushed, almost as if he knew what was about to come.

You lift the camera, and he doesn’t even need direction. He crosses his arms on top of the car and leans his chin against them, as if he knows exactly what kind of picture you’re trying to take.

“You always get this look in your eye. Like you’re gonna steal my soul with that thing” He says before you find the best angle.

You snap the photo.

“Too late” You murmur with a smirk, and he flushes red under the fading sun.

He keeps a shoebox in the bottom drawer of his dresser. There are dozens of Polaroids in there. Him, blurry in motion at the arcade. Him shirtless, cooking eggs, flipping you off playfully with a spatula. Him holding up a kitten you found near the lake. Him asleep in your passenger seat, mouth open, lashes curled ridiculously long. And in one corner of the box: a photo of you holding the camera. You’re not even looking at it– you’re smiling at him instead.

It's the one he chooses one night to put on his fridge along with many others of you and his friends. When he's sitting alone in the kitchen and catches a glance of the picture, a smile tugs at his lips.

You never meant to memorize him. It just kind of… happened. Somewhere between the first time you cleaned up his busted lip and the third time he made your coffee exactly right without asking, you realized you knew him in ways that didn’t make sense to anyone else. How he only faked a smile when his parents were around. Or how he’d crack a joke and change the topic whenever someone mentioned their families, always playing up the “only child” thing like it was a joke instead of a wound.

He never talked about them. He didn’t have to, and you just paid attention. And apparently, you weren’t the only one. It started one night at Nancy’s. She had this idea for a “normal night” for once- without the Upside Down, no monsters, no trauma bonding. Just junk food, dumb movies, and way too many people packed into one house.

Robin. Eddie. Steve. Dustin. Lucas. Mike. Nancy. Jonathan… and you. You came late, work had you stuck there until past ten, and by the time you got there, someone had already claimed the best spot on the couch. You ended up near Steve on the floor, your legs stretched under a shared blanket, a bowl of popcorn balanced randomly between you.

“Hey,” He said as you settled down beside him. His eyes flicked over you, soft and familiar, his voice was like honey “Wasn’t sure you’d come.”

You smiled, nudging his knee with yours “Miss movie night with you guys? Not a chance.”

And just like that, his shoulders dropped. The tension melted from him like ice under the sun. That’s the thing with him: he carries tension as if it’s a burden. But when you show up, he always lets some of it go, as though maybe you’re a reason to breathe again. By the second movie, someone turned off the lights completely. The room faded into that sleepy kind of chaos that only happens around 2 a.m. Half the group passed out in random positions, the rest whispering or hardly watching the screen from under heavy eyelids. You were curled on your side, barely watching the TV with one arm under your head, when you felt Steve shift behind you.

This wasn’t just a dream.

At first, it was nothing. There was a kick on the blanket and a heavy exhale. Then something deeper filled the air. A low, broken sound escaped from his throat, a mumble between a breath and a word, and your whole body tensed. You turned toward him slowly, his face was strained in sleep, his jaw clenched, his hands fisting the blanket like he was bracing for something.

You knew that look. You had seen it once when he fell asleep on your couch after a fight, after a night where he had almost gotten slammed into concrete again and came home bleeding. You had heard the way he whispered “don’t go” in a pleading tone.

You sat up on your elbows, reaching out to him “Steve.”

You whispered gently, fingers brushing his forearm “Hey. You’re dreaming.”

He flinched hard, his whole body became rigid, his breath was ragged and he kept mumbling under it.

“No, no, get off me—” He muttered with a cracked voice “Please…”

You pressed your palm flat to his chest, right over his heart, as you always did when he spiraled. One hand went right up to his face, your fingers gently cradling him “Steve. It’s me. You’re okay. You’re here, with me.”

His eyes snapped open as if he had been yanked from another reality. They seemed wild and barely focused, his hands latched onto your wrist instinctively.

“It’s okay, It’s just me” You whispered, both hands holding his face forcing him to look at you.

He blinked. Once, twice. His breathing slowed gradually, your voice was an anchor to him. He stared at you as though he wasn’t sure how he got there, like you were the only thing that looked real. Robin stirred across the room, voice groggy but alert.

“Is he okay?”

You glanced up and gave her a small nod “Yeah. Just a bad dream.”

She rubbed her eyes, watching you for a moment longer. Then her expression changed and her gaze flickered, just realizing what it really was. She knew that look as well, but she didn’t say anything, just lay back down and rolled over.

Steve was still staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts, trapped in his own mind. He was still heaving from the nightmare.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out” He muttered, letting out a quiet, but dry huff.

“You didn’t,” You say softly, brushing your thumb in a slow circle over his sticky cheek “You never do.”

He turned his head toward you, his eyes were bloodshot, his brow creased, almost as if he was embarrassed to be seen this way.

“I hate that you see me like this” He admits with a bitter tone, his voice low and hoarse.

“I don’t. I see you, Steve. Not the nightmare version. Not the one who flinches in his sleep. Just… you” You nod, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He swallows hard, trying to get rid of the lump stuck in his throat “You always show up. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

He always feels you’re about to disappear every time he has a nightmare, or when he snaps. Because he thinks you’re worth something better, not a broken man with problematic parents and a short temper. But you’re always there for him, and he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to keep you around.

“You don’t have to deserve me. That’s not how this works.”

He looked at you and felt something shake inside his chest. He felt it fluttering, his face burned and his fingertips keep tingling.

“Why? Why do you care so much?”

You didn’t look away, your thumb kept pressing his skin “Because you’re worth caring about.”

For a long second, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, tentatively, his hand reached under the blanket and brushed against yours. It felt like a jolt of electricity running through his veins. It was enough to say ‘I’m still here if you want me’. You didn’t pull away. You laced your fingers with his. And even in the dark, you saw how his whole body softened. As if your hand was the only proof he needed that he was safe.

The next morning, Robin handed you a coffee mug- black, just the way you liked it, and raised an eyebrow.

“You know... If you guys are gonna keep pretending you’re just friends, you should at least be a little less obvious about it” She said casually and you almost choked on your coffee.

You blinked a few times at her “What?”

She smirked, sipping her coffee as if it wasn’t a big deal. “He looks at you like you hung the stars for him. And you touch him in a way that he’ll fall apart if you don’t.”

Your mouth opened and closed, but you had nothing to say.

She shrugged, nonchalant “For what it’s worth… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look more like himself than when he’s around you.”

And honestly? You felt that too. That night stayed with you, it etched inside you. Not because of the nightmare, or because he reached for you. But because when the worst parts of him showed up, when the ghosts came creeping in, he let you be there. He let you stay. And maybe he wasn’t ready to say the words yet. But he didn’t have to.

Because he reached for you in the dark, and you didn’t let go of him.

He’s up not long after you, but he misses the company. He misses your warmth, and he holds his breath for a second before closing his eyes for a moment, trying to memorize your touch. You’re sitting with Dustin and Mike outside, you’re sharing the huge wooden swing as they talk about nerd stuff. He likes to see the way you try to understand whatever they say, the way you always crack up when Dustin gets too loud or too excited about something.

He sits beside you and stirs you when his arm brushes against yours. You immediately glance at him with a soft smile and it melts him completely.

“Hey” You murmur.

He offers you a small, tired smile “Hey.”

There’s something different about him in the daylight. He’s always been handsome, sure, but like this? His hair is tousled, eyelids heavy, mouth tugging at the corners in a way that doesn’t feel performative? Like this, he’s soft, and it feels domestic. And it almost makes you dizzy.

“You okay?” You ask, brushing your thumb along his knuckles, casually, but intentional.

Steve nods slowly, then sighs.

“Didn’t think I’d fall apart in front of everyone. Guess that’s a new record” He says quietly, almost as if he’s too ashamed of his friends hearing him.

They're deep in the conversation, but you get up from the swing and walk with him to the other one a few feet away.

You shake your head “You didn’t fall apart.”

His eyes flick toward you, and there’s bitterness in his voice “Felt like it.”

“You were sleeping, having a nightmare. That’s not a weakness, Steve...”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifts onto his side so he can look at you fully. His hand slips and rests on your wrist, thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point.

“I just–” He stops and his lips tightens “When I woke up and you were there... It grounded me. Like I didn’t have to explain anything. You just... knew.”

You swallow. Something fragile catches in your chest.

“That’s kind of the point. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I get it, I get you.”

His thumb keeps tracing your wrist in slow, distracted circles. His mind does that funny thing again. The action of just looking at you short-circuits his brain.

“I used to dream about my dad throwing punches. Not even at me, just at walls. At air. But the sound...”

He clenches his jaw as he cuts himself off. He doesn’t like the feeling of seeing his father punching anything, or someone. Because one of these days, if he talks back, he knows it’s going to be him.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers again.

“I’m sorry” You whisper.

He shakes his head and huffs a laugh “It’s not your fault.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t hate that it happened.”

Steve stares at your hands, at his fingers brushing your delicate skin, in a way that he’s memorizing the way your fingers fit between his.

“I don’t talk about this stuff... Not with Robin, not even with Nancy, back then.”

You nod “I know.”

“But with you... With you, it’s different. Feels different” He exhales slowly, he feels something building up in his chest and he feels it burning.

You wait, you don’t fill the silence. You let him find the words.

“I’ve never had someone see me like this and stay. You never run, you never flinch, you never retreat. You just… stay.”

You can feel his pulse in your palm. It’s fast and uneven, and you feel your own pulse reciprocating the feeling.

“Of course I stay, Stevie.”

You bring your hand up to his face, your thumb stroking his skin as he leans into the touch, as he always does. He lifts your other hand to his chest, pressing it over his heart.

“You make me feel safe” He says it so softly that it’s barely audible.

You’re not sure what to say to that, not right away. Because in all the time you’ve known Steve Harrington, he’s always been the protector, the shield. The one who throws himself in front of danger first and worries about his own bruises later. But this? Letting you hold the softest, most breakable parts of him? This is something else entirely, this is him showing you his most vulnerable side without feeling embarrassed for doing it.

You lean forward, resting your forehead lightly against his.

“You’re safe with me. Always.”

He closes his eyes, and breathes you in. He takes in your words, and hopes to God you stay safe as well. And even though he doesn’t say it out loud, you know what he means when he squeezes your hand a little tighter. You know what lives in the spaces between the words.

He’s trying to say: Thank you. He’s trying to say: You mean more to me than I know how to admit. He’s trying to say: I think I’m falling for you. His heart skips a beat when you call him Stevie, his stomach ties to a knot and his knees wobble. It’s not much different when it’s him calling you Angel, because that’s how he sees you. You’re not only like an anchor to him, grounding him, you’re also an angel who protects him and makes him feel safer.

And you’re already there.

Steve has always been overprotective, especially when it came to you. He likes to say he’s your lucky charm while you’re his angel. Eddie often grimaces when he hears the way Steve talks about you to him. As the closest thing to a brother for each other, both Steve and Eddie are very cautious with one another after everything that happened in the Upside Down. You’re their sweet little treasure. Since you weren’t with them during those events, they want to make sure you stay safe.

You’re at The Hideout with Robin, watching as Steve and Eddie perform together for the third time. Although Eddie has his own band, he enjoys doing gigs with his best friend every once in a while. You’re sitting in a booth with Robin, sipping your drinks and whispering to each other during their break. Suddenly, someone approaches and leans against your table.

The man isn’t old; he looks to be in his 40s. His hand rests on the table, fingers tapping the surface, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey. He attempts to make contact, trying to grab your attention. When he lifts his hand to hold yours, you instinctively pull it back. Robin immediately turns her head to glare at him, her elbows resting on the table.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not interested” She says confidently, which is the opposite of how you're feeling.

He grins, takes a drink, and clicks his tongue “I was just about to talk to the other lady.”

Robin scoffs and wraps an arm around your shoulders “She’s not interested.”

“You heard my friend, she’s not interested.” His voice cuts in deep and sharp. You didn’t even have to guess to know who it was.

You and Robin look up and meet Steve holding his waist. God, it’s almost as if you knew what was about to happen. You couldn’t handle another bar fight. You didn’t want to clean his injuries and patch him up again. You have been doing your best to keep him calm.

“Oh. You must be the boyfriend” He drags the word, measuring him from head to toe.

“I’m gonna give you a second to walk away,” Steve said, his voice flat but steady “That’s me being nice.”

The man laughed like it was a challenge “Relax, man. We were just talking.”

“She didn’t want to talk. That should’ve been enough” He says, his tone stern.

For a second, you saw that flicker behind his eyes. The growing rage, the urge to throw a punch, that old familiar feeling he tries so hard to hide. Instead, Steve took a breath. Closed his eyes, and rubbed his face slowly. His palm dragged down the stubble along his jaw, trying to ground himself. And then he counted, not out loud. You and Robin looked at each other, your foreheads wrinkled with confusion.

“Is he having a mental breakdown?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Hey, Dingus” She calls out.

The man stared at him with the same confused expression. Steve’s shoulders dropped and his fists unclenched.

“Dude, what are you even doing?” The guy asked, laughing awkwardly now, trying to act as though he wasn’t starting to feel dumb.

And they were calm.

“I’m not gonna hit you,” he said clearly. “But you’re gonna leave. Now.”

There was something about the way he said it, too low and calm, that made the guy finally back off. You all watched and the man turned on his heel and muttered something under his breath, walking off toward the bar. Only then did Steve look at you.

“You okay?” He asked softly. He felt lighter, almost as if it had wore down to concern instead.

You nodded, feeling your heart still thudding “Yeah. I was trying to handle it, thank you.”

“I know” He said, offering a small, sheepish smile “I just… couldn’t not come over.”

You reached for his hand under the table, lacing your fingers through his

“I’m glad you did.”

“What happened there, by the way? Looked like you were having a blackout” Robin asked and he huffed an embarrassed laugh.

“Thought I’d try something new. It helps me think, I guess.”

And you two shared a smile.

“Nice restraint, Harrington. The countdown’s new” She says as she pats his shoulder.

“Figured… if I want to be the kind of guy who doesn’t lose it in bars anymore, I should probably take it seriously.”

That knocked the air out of you in the best way.

You squeezed his hand “That’s… really good. Seriously.”

He smiled, finally really smiling, and it hit you again how gorgeous he was when he wasn’t carrying everything on his shoulders.

“Hey” He said as he leaned down, close enough that only you could hear “You sure you’re okay?”

“Better now” You said honestly, a shy smile painting your face.

His lips twitched “I don’t like it when people bother you.”

“I noticed.”

“I really don’t like it when they assume they can touch you or talk to you like that.”

“Then maybe” You murmured, pulling him just a little closer “You should give them a reason not to.”

Steve blinked, then laughed softly, brushing a knuckle under your jaw. “Careful, Angel. You’re gonna make me forget I’m trying to be good.”

Something inside of you coiled at his tone, at the way his eyes glinted with something mischevious.

“You’re already good, Harrington” You whispered back.

And you saw it. The way he blushed, trying to bite back a grin as Eddie called him from the stage.

“Gotta go” He said, standing reluctantly.

But before he left, he leaned down and kissed the side of your head, right close to your ear “Stay close to Robin, okay?”

You smirked “I can handle myself.”

“I know. But I like handling things for you.”

Then, before seeing your own cheeks blushing, he jogged back toward the stage, grinning, with his guitar hanging low across his hips.

Robin elbowed you and whispered in your ear “So, you didn’t deny when that creep called him your boyfriend.”

And only at that moment did you realize how you barely noticed when it happened.

“And he didn’t deny it either” She giggled.

You groan and take another sip from your drink “Just shut up, Robs.”

“Oh, this is so adorable. You know he likes you.”

You blush so hard, it’s difficult to pretend your cheeks aren’t burning. And when she sees it, she laughs and gives you a side hug, resting her head on your shoulder.

Eddie always catches a glance of his friend playing the entire time focusing on you. He sees the way Steve rarely leaves your eyes and even though you don’t stare right back at him all the time, you can’t help but think how you wished he looked at you. Eddie knows he loves you. He knows he cares so much about you that it makes him a better person.

He grins to himself when he looks at Steve again and witnesses a blush, a small fraction of a shy smile. He’s definitely whipped.

Steve Harrington didn’t just love you. He was learning how to protect you without breaking himself.

And that meant everything to you.

Sometimes when he’s not working, he likes to come over to your house and just... stay. No plans. No parties. You never ask him to come over, not really. He just shows up with a soft knock on the door with a lazy grin, a bag of chips or takeout swinging from his fingers. Like it’s instinct now. As if he knows when you need company. Tonight’s one of those nights.

You’re stretched out on the couch, one arm over your eyes to block the flickering light from the TV, your body finally relaxed. Steve’s on the floor again, leaning back against the edge of the couch, with the acoustic guitar in his lap. His head is thrown back just far enough to rest against your thigh, as if he’s been doing it forever. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his breath, the steady warmth of him.

His fingers move across the strings, strumming at something slow, like an unfinished song. A little dreamy, a little sad. You don’t recognize the tune, but it settles into your chest with something familiar.

“You always write your own stuff?” You ask.

Steve hums, not looking up “Yeah. Mostly.”

You smile behind your arm “Why haven’t you ever played me anything all the way through?”

“I do play for you” He says it just as if that should be obvious.

“Not real songs. Just little bits and pieces.”

He pauses, fingers frozen over the strings.

“Maybe that’s because they’re not done” He shrugs.

“Or maybe it’s because they’re about someone” You tease, lifting your arm to glance down at him.

He’s already looking up at you. His expression shifts, just slightly. Like you almost caught him.

“Maybe.”

You’re caught with surprise in your eyes, and suddenly it makes him chuckle “Wait… seriously?”

Steve shrugs again, smirking now, trying to play it off “Everyone writes about someone.”

You turn on your side, propping your head up on your hand “Yeah, but you get all intense when you write. Like ‘don’t talk to me I’m creating art’ kind of intense.”

“I do not” He grumbles.

You grin “You totally do. You get that furrow between your eyebrows and everything.”

Steve huffs a laugh “Okay, well maybe I do. Are you saying you keep staring at me?”

That makes you pause.

You reach down and gently flick at his ear, just enough to make him swat you away with a half laugh “So who’s she, huh? This mystery girl you’re writing all these secret sad boy songs about?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just leans forward to scribble something into his notebook resting beside him on the rug. You glance at the page, but his hand covers most of it. All you catch is a line: she walks like she doesn’t know I’m still watching.

You feel a flutter in your chest, but try to brush it off.

Steve clears his throat, still not looking at you “She’s… someone who knows me. Even when I’m kind of a mess. Especially then.”

Your smile softens.

“That’s sweet.”

He glances up at you, and the expression on his face makes something in your stomach twist. For a moment, you wonder if you’re the only one who doesn’t understand. Then, his head drops back onto your thigh as if it never left, and he strums a few more chords, this time quieter.

“You want me to finish one?” He asks after a minute. His voice is low, the honeyed tone makes your heart flutter.

You nod, your fingers absentmindedly brushing through his hair “Yeah. But only if you let me name the album.”

He groans dramatically “God, that’s a terrible idea.”

“Why? What’s wrong with ‘Songs for My Favorite Girl Who Steals My Fries and Thinks I Don’t Notice’?”

Steve laughs so hard his hand slips off the fretboard “Please. Never say that to a record label.”

You smile and run your fingers through his hair again. He doesn’t tell you that every song he’s written in the past year is about you. He doesn’t mention that when you lie on the couch like this, the words come to him the fastest. You’re the reason he even started writing again; half of his notebook is filled with little pieces of you, the way you fidget with your rings when you’re anxious, how you hum under your breath while brushing your teeth, and the sound of your voice when you’re sleepy and trying to pretend you’re not.

He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he plays, and it’s quiet and steady. It’s a song you’ve never heard before but that somehow feels like home. And you lie back, close your eyes, and let him write you into another night without even realizing it.

It was one of those pretty lazy golden Indiana spring afternoon where the air smelled like grass and the whole group stretched out on picnic blankets, passing around warm sodas and salty chips. You were all there. Steve, Robin, Dustin, Eddie, Nancy, even Jonathan. For once, the laughter rolled around easier. It hadn’t felt like that for months. Steve had been smiling, joking, and tossing grapes at Dustin as if everything was fine.

Until he saw his father’s car parked across the street. He was wearing a suit as always, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses hiding raging eyes. He tried to avoid the staring, pretending he wasn’t there. Tried to focus on your attempted tongue twist, forced himself to listen to what Eddie was telling Jonathan about weed. But eventually, he stood and walked off behind the trees with tight shoulders and clenched fists.

You watched him go. Ten minutes later, he came back pale and shaking. He didn’t say anything at first, sitting down heavily at the edge of the blanket and stared at the grass, as though it was the most interesting thing to look at. Robin noticed first, leaning in, nudging his shoulder.

“You good?”

Steve didn’t answer. Then you moved closer, voice soft “Hey, talk to me.”

He opened his mouth. and for a second, you thought he’d brush it off like he always did. But instead, he said, too loud and too sharp “He said I’m pathetic.”

The group fell quiet, there was a few exchanging of glances. His eyes were wide, wet, blinking too fast.

“He said I’m wasting everything. That I’ll never be anything but a failed babysitter with no ambition. Said it was embarrassing that I haven't gone back to school. Embarrassing that I hang around a bunch of teenagers.”

His voice cracked on the word embarrassing. No one moved. Steve looked around, as he suddenly realized what he was doing, breaking apart in front of all of you. He swiped a hand over his face and tried to laugh it off, but the laugh broke into a sob.

“I- I didn’t mean to lose it. Sorry. God, I’m so...”

“Stop” You said quickly, already kneeling beside him “Don’t apologize.”

He looked at you, his eyes full of pain and glossy “He doesn’t get it, none of it. He never wanted to.”

You put both hands on his face, gently grounding him “He doesn’t get you, Steve. But I do, we all do. Look around you, there’s a whole group who’s here to support you.”

He leaned forward before he could stop himself, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as if he were exhausted, as if he needed a place to rest. You held him close, not caring about who might be watching. Behind you, someone began quietly packing up food, giving you both some space.

The others started murmuring soft apologies, walking away and scattering toward the parked cars, sharing knowing glances as if they understood that you needed a moment alone.

When you looked around again, it was just the two of you under the trees.

“I thought I was okay. I thought I had gotten past needing anything from him. But every time he talks to me like that, I feel like I’m ten years old again, begging him to look at me.”

You wrapped your arms tighter around him “You don’t need anything from him, Steve. Not anymore.”

He pulled back just enough to see your face “I thought maybe if I was someone good, someone better, he’d see me. Maybe if I kept my life as he wanted and tried hard enough, he’d... I don’t know. Care.”

“You are good. You’re more than good.”

He studied you, his hand came up as if he wasn’t thinking about it, brushing your hair back, fingers trailing against your jaw.

“I thought maybe I saw something in the way you looked at me. Like maybe I wasn’t imagining it. But if I was wrong...”

“You weren’t” You didn’t let him finish. He didn’t get to feel like a failure because he thought he was misreading it.

His brows knit “I wasn’t?”

You shook your head slowly, heart pounding. Your hands were shaking, but you managed to smile.

“You weren’t wrong. I feel the same. I’ve felt it for a while.”

He blinked, in a way that he didn’t quite believe you “You do?”

“I do.”

You leaned your forehead to his, with eyes closed “And I hate that he made you feel as if you’re hard to love. Because you’re not. You’re not, Stevie.”

He let out a shaky breath, with half a laugh and half a cry, and cupped your face as if you were something he couldn’t actually believe was real.

“I thought maybe I crossed a line” He whispered.

“You didn’t. If anything… I was hoping you’d cross it.”

He leans in slowly, like he’s giving you time to stop him, but you don’t want to. You want this. You want him. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is warm and careful. The kind that says I’ve thought about this. A lot. It doesn’t rush.

His hand curls gently around the back of your neck, fingers tangling through your hair, pulling you closer as if he’s trying to memorize how perfectly you fit against him. Your hands grip the sides of his jacket, holding on as if you never want to let go. You sigh into him, and that’s when he deepens the kiss, just a little.

It’s soft, yet it burns, slow and sweet. When you finally pull apart, with your foreheads resting against each other, he’s breathing as if he just ran a mile. His eyes are still closed, but he’s smiling. A real smile this time, an honest one at that.

“Wow” He whispers.

You smile back “Yeah.”

He nudges his nose gently against yours “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Me too. You have no idea.”

His fingers graze down your arm and find your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, squeezing once.

“I think I do now.”

And for the first time all afternoon, maybe after a long time, he doesn’t look lost. He looks found.

You thought everyone already knew about you and Steve, especially after that afternoon at the picnic. At least Robin and Nancy were aware of it. They kept asking you to share details about that day and how everything happened. They wanted to know when you first noticed your feelings and what it was like. They seemed genuinely excited to see that Steve had finally found someone who liked him for who he is, flaws and all. Nancy, in particular, looked more than happy to know it was you, one of her best friends.

You and Steve are sitting on the hood of his car just outside the arcade. It’s not a date-date, but it kind of is. His thigh is pressed against yours, your coffee is in his hand because he always finishes it when you forget it in the cupholder, and he has his pinky loosely hooked around yours in a way that says “this is new and I like it here”. His heart leaps every time you look at him and smile. His throat tightens when you laugh loudly and throw your head back. His knees buckle when you pull his lip between your teeth during a kiss.

You’re in the middle of teasing him about losing Galaga to Dustin again when you hear it. A loud, very theatrical gasp. You both turn, already knowing who it comes from. Eddie Munson is standing frozen on the sidewalk, a bag of Funyuns in one hand and the other dramatically clutching his chest.

“What in the Upside Down hell is this?” He shouts, pointing between you two like he's witnessing a crime scene “Am I hallucinating? Did I die? Is this my personal version of hell?”

You burst out laughing, while Steve just gives him a look.

“Oh my God,” Eddie breathes, walking toward you in slow motion like he's approaching a wild animal “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like. Tell me this is just... You tripped, and she's holding you up, and the eye contact is accidental and deeply misleading.”

You grin, not moving from your seat in the car “What do you think it looks like?”

Eddie stares at you, then at Steve. Then at your hands, then back at you.

Steve raises an eyebrow “You good there, Munson?”

“Good? No, Harrington, I’m not good. You, you are supposed to be emotionally stunted and painfully repressed and terrible at love!”

“Wow” Steve mutters, offended but also amused.

“And you” Eddie says, spinning to face you “Are supposed to have standards.”

“Hey!” Steve protests.

You’re laughing so hard now that you nearly spill your coffee “Eddie, breathe. It’s not that deep.”

He holds up a hand “Okay. Okay, no. I just, how long has this been going on?”

You glance at Steve. He shrugs, sheepishly “Kind of… recent?”

“But not today recent” Eddie says, narrowing his eyes “You’ve got the look.”

“What look?” You and Steve ask at the same time.

“The look” Eddie says dramatically, his bag of snacks long forgotten “The soft ‘I’d die for you’ eyes. He’s practically glowing, and you’re sitting in his personal space like he doesn’t hate it. Don’t try to fool me, I’ve seen rom-coms.”

You roll your eyes “It’s… kind of new, okay?”

Eddie crosses his arms “Does Robin know?”

“Yes” You both say in unison.

“Dustin?”

Steve winces “I don’t think so.”

Eddie gasps again “You mean I found out before Henderson? Oh, this is the greatest day of my life.”

Steve glares “Please don’t make this a thing.”

Eddie smirks, but there’s something softer in his eyes now “Hey. I’m just surprised, not mad. A little horrified, sure, but mostly…”

He pauses, then gestures vaguely between you “It makes weird sense. In a ‘sun and storm cloud’ kind of way.”

You nudge Steve “See? He gets it.”

Steve just grumbles under his breath, clearly flustered. Eddie softens a little more, shrugging his leather jacket higher “Look, I give you crap because I’m me, but seriously… if you make each other happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You smile “Thanks, Eddie.”

He holds up a finger. “However. I will be running an extensive interrogation at your house next week. And if you break her heart, Harrington, I will write a very pointed rock ballad about it.”

Steve groans “Of course you will.”

Eddie grins like the devil “Working title: ‘Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow’ You’ll be immortalized.”

You toss your empty coffee cup into the nearby trash can and hop off the hood “Come on, lover boy” You tease Steve “Let’s go before he gets out his guitar.”

Steve stands too, sliding an arm casually around your waist now that the secret’s out. Eddie just stares at you both with a baffled smile.

“You’re kidding me” He mutters again, but this time it almost sounds as though he means finally.

The sun warms your skin as you step onto the grass of Lover’s Lake, the breeze with fresh hair hits you with the scent of wildflowers. Steve is already there, waiting by the edge of the deck, his eyes lighting up the second he sees you. He grins, hair tousled perfectly as if he just rolled out of bed, but in a way that somehow suits him. There isn’t a day where his hair is actually awful and you hate it. Mostly because you always spend too much time on your hair while he barely brushes his.

“Hey” he says, reaching out to pull you into a hug that’s tighter than usual. His chest is warm against you, and his arms linger longer than it should. You smile, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Miss me?” You ask, pulling him by the collar of his shirt and he giggles.

“Yeah. A lot” He admits, his lips ghosting over yours.

You wrap your arms around his waist and press him closer to you “Good, because I definitely missed you too.”

You walk together slowly along the shoreline, his hand finding yours. His fingers curl tightly around yours, as if he's afraid you might disappear. It feels a bit clingy, but it's also sweet, and you like it. You appreciate that he wants to hold on to you. Suddenly, he stops and gently pulls you toward a blanket he laid out earlier. The sun casts playful dots of shadows above you, dancing on your faces.

Steve’s hand never leaves yours as he pulls you close, his thumb is always tracing small circles on your skin. He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes searches yours as though he’s memorizing every detail. After your picnic, he leads you toward the edge of the water and you can feel the cool, soft mud beneath your bare feet. The lake sparkles in the afternoon sun, but there’s there’s a sharpness in the spring air that makes you hesitate for a moment.

“You cold?” He asks with a playful teasing grin playing on his lips.

“A little” You admit, wringing your hands together.

He just laughs and grabs your hand, gently pulling you forward “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

The water laps at your ankles, cold enough to make you gasp but not enough to stop you. Steve steps closer, pressing his chest against your back, his arms wrapping around you like a warm shield. You feel the goosebumps on your skin, mostly because of the water temperature. The feeling of having his bare chest brushing against your back is overwhelming.

“See?” He whispers, his breath tickling your ear “Not so bad.”

You take a tentative step forward, then another, until the water reaches your knees. Steve squeezes your waist as he secures you. The cold shocks your skin, but it's bearable when he's holding you. He splashes you lightly all of a sudden, and it takes you by surprise. You squeal, wiping your eyes and grinning.

“Oh, it’s on” You say, gathering water in your hands and splashing it back at him.

He laughs, stepping back to dodge the splash but tripping slightly and pulling you down with him into the shallow water. You both come up laughing, dripping wet and breathless. Steve’s hands are everywhere– on your shoulders, your waist, your back. He's clinging like he never wants to let go. You cup his face, wiping a stray of water droplet from his cheek, and he leans into your touch in a way that it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You smile, brushing your fingers through his wet hair “Yeah. You were right.”

He pulls you close again, and this time there’s no teasing, no laughter, just quiet warmth and hope hanging between your lips. The water still laps gently around your legs, but all the chill has faded away, replaced by the heat radiating between you and Steve. His hands slide up slowly, cradling your face with surprising tenderness. His thumb brushes your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw. You lean into the touch, your lips parting just a fraction, like an invitation.

Steve leans in too, his breath is warm against your skin. The space between you closes until it disappears entirely, and then your lips meet. The kiss is gentle at first, you’re both testing the water, but then it deepens. His mouth moves with careful hunger, he’s memorizing the shape of you, savoring the softness and your taste.

You close your eyes, letting yourself fall into it. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until there’s nowhere left to go but into him. Your tongue laps against his and you hear a soft groan in the back of his throat. The cool water presses against your legs, but all you can feel is the warmth spreading through your chest. When you finally pull back, breathless and smiling, Steve rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, definitely the best part of the day.”

You laugh softly, fingers tangling in his wet hair “Agreed.”

The sun has dipped lower now, casting golden lights over the lake’s surface. You sit side by side on the blanket Steve spread out earlier, your legs stretched toward the water, fingers still intertwined.

He is quiet for a long moment, watching the gentle, slow sunset. Then he finally speaks, without looking at you first, his voice carrying roughness as the same time it's steady.

“You know… I don’t say this much” He starts, swallowing hard, feeling like he’s holding something heavy in his chest “But… you mean a hell of a lot to me.”

You squeeze his hand gently, encouraging him. You feel your heart thundering in your chest. He takes a shaky breath, eyes finally meeting yours, they're vulnerable and honest.

“I still get these… these moments where I feel like my heart’s breaking all over again because of my parents. It’s as if there's this weight I carry, even when I’m supposed to be past it.”

A flash of pain crosses his face, and you see the way his eyes glisten, as though he’s barely holding back tears.

“But… when I’m with you? I don’t feel so alone. You make all the hurt… less scary.”

You shift closer, brushing his cheek “Steve…”

He smiles “You’re the best thing I never knew I needed.”

You lean in and rest your forehead against his “You’re the best thing I ever wanted.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and for the first time in a long while, you see something peaceful settle over him.

@kellyxo1 @sammybrrr @zafetycar @andvys @hellfire--cult @skeltnwrites @ghost-proofbaby @eddiesxangel

[bewitched-hours]

https://www.tumblr.com/bewitched-hours/785457462606184448/okay-zo-hello-could-you-maybe-make-a-fic-about?source=share

Hii, zame anon here!! :33 could you maybe make another fic about thiz one:3? Like a zecond chapter or zomething (idk what to call it DX)

Alzo, if you don't wanna do it, feel free to ignore thiz!! No prezzure at all!!<3

Reminder to take care of yourzelf, drink water and eat!! Or I'll be in your ventz tonight!!

I'd love to but I'm gonna call you Zanon from now on

So, Zanon, enjoy yourself a part 2 to our lovely tale!

Like before, the reader's pronouns are they/them!

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in-"

"What did you expect to happen?!" You were irritated. How long was Shedletsky planning to hide 1x1's existence from you? How long did he expect this to work??

Shed knew he fucked up. He knew you wanted answers and although it was uncomfortable to him, he was willing to tell you everything.

Not like he had a choice-

"Is that why you were always relieved when we were up against other killers???" You asked in desperation, searching for answers you already had.

Shedletsky could only sit beside you on his bed, running his hand up and down your back in an effort to comfort you.

The other survivors were already told what happened and advised to let him handle this on his own.

"What- I was just- supposed to forgive and forget???"

"No- of course not! I just... Didn't know how to tell you without making you want to see her..."

"Of course I'd want to see my sibling! Family is supposed to love each other- You said that yourself!"

You were a mess...

But when Shedletsky was done explaining, he offered to let you talk with 1x1 next time he was in a round with you. That sounded reasonable enough in your mind.

And by plot convenience pure coincidence, that would be this very next round!

As planned, you were left as LMS with 1x1, who was menacingly staring up at you with a smirk.

"I can see it on your face... You know the truth now, don't you?" Her voice felt almost mocking, especially when you could only nod.

"And so opposites meet as family... even though we aren't connected through an even decent parent-"

"Shut up." Your voice was demanding again. 1x1 was definitely annoyed at how insistent you were on not letting anyone talk badly about your creator.

She just scoffed, trying not to kill you since he knew you wanted to talk.

"Why are you so insistent on killing papa?"

"I'm an embodiment of hatred, what do you think?"

"And yet I can feel other things than love..."

"Is that meant to mean anything to me?"

"No but you're acting childish."

"CHILDISH?!?!?!?! I'LL SHOW YOU CHILDISH-"

And you were back at the survivor cabin... The round ended before 1x1 could take a swing at you.

Although a relief, you still had many more questions and wanted to find a way to break through the hatred.

To show that what you embody isn't all you're meant to be.

But would 1x1 understand that?

Yeah, it was pretty short but I hope it was sufficient...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[trippinsorrows]

Girl where is part two???????

"is he by you?"

a frantic question from a frantic woman. a woman still living in between the valley of disbelief and concern, a permanent residence for over the past hour and a half. the scene replaying in her head like a form of torture. unthinkable. unimaginable. unbelievable.

dwayne sighs on the other end. "yeah, he's here."

at that, solana's eyes shut, her emotions settling just the slightest. not knowing where her children are has always been one of her greatest fears. among other things. and tonight, that's exactly what happened. tamasa not only left the house, but he left the house without his phone, leaving solana with no way to contact him.

how he managed to leave without security following him, she hasn't a clue, but that's an issue for another day. she has much more important, heavier things to tackle.

"sol, what the hell happened over there?" dwayne's question brings her back to the conversation at hand. "kid has barely said a word and looks like he saw a fucking ghost." for some reason, that makes the weight sitting at the bottom of her stomach sink even deeper. no mother wants to know or see their child upset, and knowing tamasa must be all over the place and her not being there to help him is crushing. "i know roman said the boy's been off lately, but this...."

she closes her eyes. he has no idea.

"we, umm—" she sniffles, wiping at her nose as she paces tamasa's room. "we got into....an argument."

a pause on the other end. "what kind of argument, solana?"

right then and there, she knows, knows that there's no use in lying to him. in trying to downplay what occurred. doesn't stop her from trying though. "it's nothing."

"solana, my nephew is sitting in my guest room just staring at the wall, and you're holding back tears." failing to hold back tears, solana unable to stop them from cascading down her face. "what happened?"

she doesn't want to. doesn't want to tell him. doesn't want to have to deal with any of this, but she also knows that delaying the inevitable has never helped anyone in life. especially her.

"please don't tell roman," she croaks.

"solana, i'm getting conc—"

"he pushed me."

a pause. long. longer. and then—

"what?"

and right away, despite her own mixed bag of emotions regarding what occurred, she slips right back into mama mode. "don't say anything to him. don't even tell him i told you."

"he pushed you?" disbelief forms a marriage with anger that seeps through his tone. "has he lost—"

"something's going on with him. i know it. i just....." she stops herself, blowing out a breath, hand over her chest, regulating her emotions.

"you have to tell rom—"

"i know, i will. i just..." another sniffle. "i had to make sure my baby was okay first." because what happened doesn't change the fact that her children's safety will always come first, hence why she's been on the phone with several family members trying to track down and see where her eldest son is. "and, dwayne, i mean it, don't say anything to him."

another loud sigh. "you know we don't play that shit in this family, solana."

she knows that very well. "and, so does he." even if she, for the life of her, can't understand just what made him do it. "let me....let me talk to roman first."

"you gon call him now?"

i don't want to. "yeah."

and finally, the question she was both waiting and dreading. "you're okay though, right? physically, i mean? he didn't hu—"

"no." there's something about him even asking that that upsets her. her son would never hurt her.

and yet...

"please just keep him there with you. for....for now." because solana still needs to sit down and talk with koa and kai, her younger boys who are somewhere in the house blowing off steam from what occurred.

"i will," he promises. "just let me know when you want me to bring him back home."

"thank you," she murmurs, voice dipping once more from the heaviness of it all. "and, dwayne?"

"yeah?"

a broken gasp. "tell him i love him."

because nothing, nothing at all in the entire universe could ever change that. period.

"i will, sol," he agrees, offering with all the sincerity, "let me know if you need anything."

she nods. "okay." disconnecting the call reminds solana of where she stands, still in her son's room, the tv still on revealing a paused game. the bed still unmade and unkempt, an empty water bottle on the floor beside his desk. she closes her eyes and places her hands over her heart, taking another deep, shaky breath.

that was difficult.

this will be devastating.

solana lifts up the phone, shaking fingers ready to navigate to roman's contact when something catches the corner of her eye. something on tama's dresser, another place and space of unorganized mess.

how she sees it, she hasn't a clue, but she does, and it makes her frown.

solana places her cell phone in her back pocket and walks over to the dresser, reaching for the manilla envelope with a strange bulge. shaped like something familiar. like a bottle.

and, that's exactly what she pulls out. a pill bottle. a large one, too.

but, it's when she pulls out said bottle, reads the label of said bottle that an already dire situation skyrockets from bad to horrific.

tears brew in her eyes, her hand over her mouth. "oh my God...." she can't stop reading it, not the description or the other writing, but the name. something most familiar to her given her profession. something she knows all about through various teachings and experience in her field. but, something she never would have thought to find in her fourteen year-old son's room.

trenbolone.

a name that might mean nothing to some but everything to her, because she recognizes it for what it is.

a anabolic-androgenic steroid

tama is using steroids.

------

ya'll gon have to wait for part 3 until tomorrow or something. it's late, and my head hurts. 😭

[hikariyaps]

synopsis ☆ satoru gojo, most popular boy on campus, has had loads of flings i mean, it's not his fault girls are all over him right? he has everything he wants, everything he needs. so when he meets you, shoko's best friend plain and unassuming he brushes it off, however one random thursday something happens. something that changes the way he thinks of you entirely. and then he just has to have you, but you won't let up that easily.

☆series masterlist

Chapter Seven

things started to go back to normal. well almost normal. that's crazy because normal for you around six months back was you and shoko. just you and shoko. now normal for you includes a lot more people. gojo, suguru, shoko (obviously), occasionally nanami and haibara would be dragged along.

ever since the evening that sukuna made his reappearance, things between you and gojo have changed. you've gotten a lot closer. it's just been a week but it feels like that day was forever ago.

you opened up more, once you realized you trusted these people. you talked about your likes and dislikes, even started talking about your family.

you started having fun like actual real fun with them. in the past week there had been three mall trips and they'd tried to convince you to go to a party with them, but you had a shoot the next day so you couldn't. instead of going without you, they stayed in and you guys ordered pizza.

satoru loved this side of you. the side of you that talked so excitedly to him about the most random things. the side of you that flashed him those smiles that made his heart stop. the side of you that started laughing at the things he said. he realizes that maybe this isn't just a side of you, but maybe this is you. and truth be told, he had never felt this way about any girl. you really were something.

‘good morning guys’ you say and take a seat next to him, shaking him out of his stupor.

‘well someone woke up on the right side of the bed today.’

‘ha ha, suguru. looks like you got your beauty sleep’ you retort playfully.

‘wait’ satoru gasps dramatically. ‘how come you call him by his first name but me by my last?’ he asks all pouty.

‘we have a long way to get there, sweetie.’ you say patting his cheek.

he doesn't know if its the physical contact or the nickname that has his cheeks burning. he's left dumbfounded.

‘did you order yet?’ you ask him. all he can do is shake his head no. ‘i'll order for you?’ you ask, getting up. he nods yes. you smile at him and leave after mumbling out a quick ‘be right back’.

it isn't until shoko speaks that he snaps his eyes away from you.

‘whoah’ shoko gasps ‘that was scary’

‘right?’ suguru agrees ‘she's never been that nice to me’

‘to you? fuck that. she's never ordered coffee for me!’ shoko breathes out.

‘is there something you want to tell us about satoru?’ suguru teases.

‘what? n-no! satoru stutters out. ‘there's nothing to tell’

‘are you sure?’ shoko droned.

‘mm hmm’ satoru says nodding rapidly.

suguru and shoko both eye him up and down, so in sync that it's almost comical.

god help him, satoru does not know how to act at all.

by the time you come back with the coffee, suguru and shoko have almost got poor satoru to tears.

‘here’ you say, placing his takeaway cup in front of him and setting down in to your seat. it was a lazy friday. none of the teachers had any energy left in them so you guys were basically free the entire day.

‘so, what're the plans for today?’ you ask, taking a sip of your own coffee.

while shoko and suguru try to come up with something to do, satoru takes a sip of his own coffee. it's probably the best thing he's ever had in his life. he lets out an audible noise of delight and turns to you ‘what magic potion did you get me?’ he asks.

you let out a soft giggle. the sound echoing in satoru's brain, oh how he wishes he could listen to it on repeat.

‘it's a caramel latte, with two extra pumps of caramel.’ you explain softly to him, so that you don't disturb the very heated conversation going on between the other two. you lean in slightly so he can hear you and so does he. ‘i know you like sweet things, and since this is my go to, whenever i'm craving something sweet, i thought i'd get it for you.’

‘well you have excellent taste’ he says and you actually blush.

shoko captures this moment very discreetly with her phone.

‘so um’ suguru says loudly, making you both spring apart and return to your own seats bashfully. ‘me and shoko have some errands to run, satoru and you should spend some time together’ he says. shoko nods along and before you both could say anything the two idiots, who actually do not have any errands to run, leave.

you and satoru just sit there in silence for a bit, sipping on coffee, when you get a call from yuki. apparently she messed up and you actually had a shoot in an hour and while she was apologising profusely, your eyes lit up and satoru regrets not taking a picture of your face in that moment. after you tell her it's okay and hang up, you look at satoru.

‘would you perhaps be interested in coming to a shoot of mine?’ you ask him, a little shy, knowing very well, what the answer would be. he is actually overjoyed that you are comfortable enough to invite him to one of these and immediately agrees.

that's how he finds himself an hour and half later, blushing at the way you were killing that outfit. he swears that he's died and gone to heaven because that full white dress you were modelling with that halo definitely portrayed you as an angel.

after the shoot, satoru takes you out for dinner (you had lunch in the studio) and what starts as a silly conversation, turns into a deep exchange about passion and love and heartbreak. and since the other two weren't here (well they were spying on you from the other table but you had no idea) the conversation didn't stop.

satoru asks you what being in love was like and you talk about it with such passion that it makes him want to fall in love.

that night, lying in bed, satoru can't sleep. because he can't stop thinking about you. and that's when he remembers something he read online once ‘when you're in love, sleep is hard to come by.’

and that's when he realizes.

he's in love with you.

and lying awake in your bed, you realize you're in love with him.

a/n: aaahhhhhh!! i thought i posted this yesterday but i just saved it to drafts apparentlyy

©hikariyaps2025

[nijigasakilove]

Holy fuck, one of the most fucked up Kusuriya episodes ever? My jaw’s on the floor after that ending. Lot to unpack here.

Ok, Shenmei I tried being patient and understanding, maybe there was some characterisation they’d give you to justify the anger issues, but how dare you put your fucking hands on maomao! So much respect to Maomao for standing up for the kids and Suirei who were absolutely gripped with fear. I don’t even think we’ve seen people be that scared about the emperor in this series. It’s like they know shenmei is only a husk of a person. Hatred is the only thing fueling her.

4D chess from Shisui to get Maomao sent to the taibon torture chamber. Only maomao could turn a death sentence into a damn buffet 😭 this girl is insane.

Is my Maomao Shisui ship still alive?? The yearning in that reunion scene ah they’re so cute. During pride month too lol

“Mother barely remembers my face” so it’s clear at this point this is an extreme case of a parent living vicariously through their child. Shenmei doesn’t even really care about Shisui as an individual, she’s turned her into an ideal, a doll that represents the life she always wanted to live but didn’t get. It’s nothing more than a deeply emotionally troubled person creating a life sized doll. I couldn’t imagine having to live through that.

Suirei grandmother being the emperor’s first victim and getting kicked out of the palace is so fucked up too. It’s even crazier when you think about Suirei mother being that daughter and herself getting kicked out when Shenmei came back from the palace. So the women in her family have had it so rough and for no fault of their own, just unfortunate cogs in the machine. Suiren deserves to be happy.

Speaking of happy, I love the look on Shisui face when Maomao calls her by that name. It’s like a switch goes off that finally unlocks the cage she’s been in. She’s forced to live as Loulan, but Shisui is who she really is in her heart and Maomao and Suiren are the only people who really know the real her.

That fucking ending tho?!!! Did we just see a child mass suicide?!! Hello?!!! Please tell me Maomao’s gonna pay off this resurrection potion plotline and be able to bring them back. I can’t live with Kyou and those poor babies going out like this for no fault of their own.

In Maomao we trust, I need this next episode so badly.

[radioactive-yuri]

I would like to hear your Perpetua angst if you want to say please

yayy yay yay ok so

it's like. mostly headcanons. but i definitely see him having "unpalatable" or "uncomfortable" mental health issues, i.e. anger issues and general emotional dysregulation. he represses all of that way too much, and comes across as a very calm, polite guy, until he burns himself out and has a major outburst of some kind. usually involves a lot of screaming, and one of his worst fears is one of these outbursts occurring in the presence of his ghouls. he's afraid of accidentally scaring them, making them feel like he's unstable or dangerous to them.

on the more interpretation side of things, i do think that not knowing either of his parents fucked perpetua up quite a bit. as a kid, he'd fantasize about one or both of them magically showing up to come take him home. as a teenager, he said he didn't even want to meet them, that he hated them both for abandoning him like this. as an adult, he's...conflicted. his parents are dead. he never got to meet them. he hates them, but he hates the fact that he never met them even more.

i feel like if perpetua and copia ever actually got into a fight, copia would very easily say something like "you're so lucky! i spent my entire life as the black sheep of the family." and perpetua would just scream back "at least you had a family!"

perpetua's conflicted about being papa too. he loves being a part of the clergy, he loves the attention and the praise and he loves performing, but he doesn't consider himself an emeritus. he doesn't know what it means to be an emeritus. the plate has been wiped clean, the only person alive to tell what an emeritus is hates him too much to tell him anything about the family he never got to meet. he's been thrown into this world he knows nothing about, and told that it belonged to him from the start.

[stormythalamus]

My take on Mileven vs Byler debate:

Since the new teaser dropped and we’re all back at each other’s throats again, I’ve been thinking about how I want the couples to play out in the next season and thought I’d share my thoughts here weee

also if someone puts this on twitter for discussion i would be so happy. i dont have a twitter (for posting) but i love stalking sttwt because people are fucking insane over there and i’d love to hear some insane opinions on all this lmao. Okay here we go:

Just to be clear, I don’t care if you like Mileven or Byler or whatever else. These characters are not real, it's not that deep. Mileven’s and Byler’s can exist in peace and harmony I promise. A fair warning though, this post is definitely more anti-Mileven because it’s not my cup of tea. I personally have always hated the Mike x Eleven ship, mainly because I thought it was gross how this young girl had no concept of friends or family before being thrusted into a long-term romance at the age of twelve. After being controlled and used by men her entire life. I didn’t like how Eleven asked Mike to be her brother the same day they started dating, I didn’t like how overly obsessed they were with each other in season 3, I really didn’t like having to watch them make out for multiple minutes straight. That being said, I understand why people do enjoy it; they follow the classic Damsel / Savior trope to an extent, with who being what changing depending on the season. However, in reality, their relationship has done nothing but negatively impact them both in the long run. 

Jumping to season 4, their objectively worst season as a couple, we have the internal thoughts of these two characters and what they want for themselves laid out very clearly: 

Mike wants to be needed by someone/feel useful. 

Eleven wants to be normal, and later, grow into herself/her duty. 

Already, these motivations clash. We already saw this in season 3, when Mike gets insanely jealous over Eleven and Max becoming friends. Mike needs to feel needed by someone, and that someone has always been El. That was literally the foundation of their relationship; that Mike saved Eleven from the bad men, therefore becoming a hero in her and his own eyes. However, as Eleven begins to grow away from Mike and into herself as a human being, Mike begins to stress about losing her completely. In my opinion, this is why I believe he said he loves her in season 3, moreso out of fear than out of true love (maybe fear is too strong a word; more like inadequacy on his own part). 

Now, going back to season 4, this insecurity has grown substantially. Mike is now unable to tell Eleven he loves her, and Eleven constantly lies to Mike in order to be good enough for him. However, the most telling part of this season is Mike and Eleven’s relationship in relation to Will. Will does need Mike, and has expressed this time and time again over the course of all the seasons. Eleven, on the other hand, wants to grow away from Mike, and into a person outside of her relationship. I think people tend to overlook how insane El’s story is in fear of infantilizing her, however I think it’s very important to note that El’s life has been:

Raised in a lab until she was 12

Met Mike and Party, knew them for a week, began her relationship with Mike

Didn’t see Mike (or anyone, or anything, other than Hopper) for almost an entire year

Immediately resumes relationship with Mike, barely acknowledging her other friends, or doing anything with Mike other than kissing

Meets Max, gets a taste of what it’s like to be independent, immediately breaks up with Mike lol

Gets thrown into another life or death situation, forcing their relationship back together

Moves away and doesn’t know how to talk to him about how horrible her life is in fear of messing something up

Do you notice a thread here? Eleven has been constantly controlled and influenced significantly by those around her for her entire life. The closest she ever got to true independence was in California, but she was still being tethered by stress about Mike’s view of her and a complete lack of awareness of how school works (which, Joyce, homeschooling really wasn’t an option??)

People get dogged on all the time for saying El isn’t ready for a relationship, and I genuinely cannot understand why, because she clearly is not. She is a strong character with a good heart, but her complete lack of solo personal development makes the dynamic between the two feel odd and imbalanced. This is further emphasized by the insane pedestal Mike places Eleven on, calling her a superhero, something that she is, at least in my eyes, not fond of at all. Eleven hates having to be a savior all the time; she just wants to be normal. One point people like to bring up is how Mike is overly protective of Eleven in season 3 when he believes her to be over exerting herself, blaming Max for treating her like a machine. But… is this not just another form of control?? Let Eleven decide what her limits are! That is not Mike’s call. His overprotectiveness borders on obsession, clearly stemming from his need to be needed. If he isn’t there to help El, who will? Or… if he isn’t there to help El, what use is he? 

Now, back to Will, more specifically his painting for Mike. As we’ve established, Mike needs to feel important. He tells Will about his worries that Eleven won’t need him anymore, as she is growing and becoming even more powerful and important to the world than she has ever been. Will then presents Mike with the painting, saying that “these past few months, she’s been so lost without you. She’s just so different from other people, and when you're different, sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make her feel like she's not a mistake at all, like she's better for being different. And that’s what gives her the courage to fight on.”

Interestingly, this is exactly what Mike wants to hear! Eleven loves him, she needs him, she feels lost without him. And this whole speech is what motivates Mike to tell Eleven that he loves her. Except… literally none of it is true. Mike is literally telling Eleven he loves her on completely false pretenses. He can finally say I love you to a version of Eleven that Will created. Even better, Will is just talking about himself in this scene! None of what he said even applies to Eleven. Eleven does not need Mike. She has made that clear. She loves Mike, but she does not need him. There is a clear distinction there, one that is very important when discussing Mike’s feelings. And the cherry on top of this nightmare sundae is that Mike and Eleven do not speak for the rest of the season after this confession. We literally end the season with El ignoring Mike and Mike going to talk to Will. Like??? I am so sorry but the fact that Mileven shippers consider this romantic or promising is laughable to me. Mike confessing that he loves Will’s fictional caricature of Eleven is NOT romantic!!1! And I’m pretty sure El knows something was up with that confession, too. I’m excited to see how they deal with the fallout in season 5. 

Okay, now for a slightly unrelated point: let’s compare Mike and Eleven to Lucas and Max. Now I think we can all agree Lucas and Max have a much stronger relationship than Mike and Eleven. If you disagree, I implore you to rewatch the show with your eyes open. From the way they handle disagreements (ex: Lucas confronting Max about ignoring him vs. Mike confronting El in season 4) to the way they are written, to the way that the actors talk about them, Lumax is clearly meant to be a much more serious, stable relationship. While we see them have disagreements, there is no doubt about how strongly Lucas feels for Max. And there never was; that was an intentional writing decision. Something that always stood out to me as noteworthy was the fact that in season 3, Lucas mentions how Max has dumped him multiple times, but that he was able to win her over every single time. These breakups are not shown on screen. Whereas with Mike and El, their breakups are literally all we see. Clearly, the writers want us to focus on how Lucas and Max have stayed a strong couple by honing in on their resilience and care regarding their relationship by mentioning, but not centering, on their teenage breakups. However, the exact opposite is true for Mike and Eleven; we are intentionally being shown their silly teenage drama and breakups, because that is what the writers think is important about their relationship. I’m honestly surprised more people don’t talk about this. And yes, Mike and Eleven do come to resolutions after their fights, but they are never very… strong, or taken seriously. People have talked this point into the ground, but Mike crumpling up two of Eleven’s letters on screen, and even throwing one in the trash, is like… wow. Interesting choice if he’s so in love with her. Especially with the way he reacts to Will’s painting. All this to say, Lumax solos. 

At the end of the day, I don’t really give a shit if Mike ends up with Will or El. I would honestly prefer neither just because the absolute outrage on both sides would be funny. But I do think he’s much more compatible with Will. I will say, I think the Duffer Brothers have dug themselves into quite the deep hole here. I genuinely cannot see a way where everyone will be happy with the outcome of this season. On one hand, Mike and Eleven could resolve their issues, Mike would friendzone Will, and Will’s entire character for the past two seasons will have been dedicated to suffering and uplifting a straight couple at his own detriment. Not a great look. Especially since in season 4, literally all Will did was be sad about his feelings for Mike, while simultaneously trying to help his relationship. Maybe I have too much faith in Netflix, but the fact that the writers decided to make Will gay and in love with Mike makes me believe in Byler being canon more than anything else, solely because there was literally zero reason to include that plot line other than to make Will’s already miserable life even harder. They could’ve very easily introduced a new character in season 2 or 3 as a love interest for Will, while exploring his isolation and self-hatred by having Mike and the rest of the Party help him feel more comfortable in himself. The fact that a large portion of his character is his feelings for Mike is going to make it look very bad if they don’t end up together in the end. 

nOn the other hand, if Mike and Will get together, I imagine the reaction from the GA is going to be… horrific. Not even considering the staggering amount of homophobia, the confusion alone from a casual viewer may be enough to not make them have Byler become a couple. I will say, it would be a lot to have in one season, especially since Will hasn’t even come out as gay yet in the show. I actually had to tell my mom he was gay after finishing season 4; she didn’t even pick up on it. I can’t imagine how confused a casual viewer would be if Mike suddenly broke up with his four seasons long girlfriend to get with her step-brother in the last season. But in that case, why would you let it go on this long??? And who is telling Finn Wolfhard to look at Will Byers like he hung the stars???? And why is there a One Way sign pointing to his closet????? And WHYY are they letting their cast members (ie Noah) hype it up so much if it’s not happening!????? I literally need the next season because I cannot even fathom what the plan is to fix this absolute mess of a love triangle they’ve created. It’s either gonna go down in history as the best queer slowburn ever or the worst queerbaiting case in existence. I bet I’ll enjoy it either way, since Will has been my favorite character for a while and he’s clearly taking center stage this season! Very exciting. 

Congrats if you made it this far, hope this all made sense. It’s like 3am and I just wanted to write about this for some reason lollll. I havent done a rewatch in a minute so hopefully there’s nothing inaccurate in here : )

[turinspeachjam]

It's that time again! Make me write!

No one has tagged me yet, but I want to thank the lovelies from @strangerthingswritersguild for always encouraging me!

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask and I'll write a snippet from that WIP! (Feel free to send as many as you want, but I might not get to them right away!)

👻 Stranger. Honored Guest. Family. - IT'S NO LONGER A SECRET BABY! This is my Steddie Big Bang project and it's an Under the Whispering Door AU

🌧 The Way That We Weather the Storm - Steve Storm Powers AU

🧠 A Place For Crows to Rest Their Feet - Stobin Songfic inspired by Marbles by The Amazing Devil

Here's a snippet from A Place For Crows to Rest Their Feet:

Walking home was always the worst part. Sure, she felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety and anticipation whenever she visited Steve because there was no telling how he was doing before she entered the building. But that did not compare to the dread and loneliness she felt every night she had to leave him behind. 

Steve’s mom had reassured Robin many times that she was not abandoning him by needing to go home and rest. Except that reassurance fell flat because neither Robin nor Steve’s mom truly believed that. Before everything, Steve lived with Robin, something the two of them had planned after trauma bonding in a Russian bunker. It was a dream come true for Robin because she finally felt comfortable enough to be herself in her own home on top of getting to see her best friend whenever she fucking wanted. 

And then Steve started to get bad. 

It was not just forgetting shifts or where he left his keys. It was looking through Robin and not knowing who she was or where he was. Steve was the one who suggested he move back in with his mom. Robin and Gloria had agreed to it solely because they hoped it would mean less bad days for him. 

But he kept losing his keys and trying to go back to his childhood home, an impossible feat unless he intended to time travel to ‘85 before Vecna’s earthquake swallowed half of it. He started fighting with his mom about every little thing and Gloria knew then that he needed more help than just her. 

She talked to Robin about it before bringing it up to Steve. 

No pressure tags: @tinytalkingtina @stellarspecter @helpimstuckposting @eriquin @sidekick-hero @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @sourw0lfs @little-annie @onirislanding @penny00dreadful @klausinamarink @griefabyss69 @machtaholic @queenofshenanigans @pearynice @hbyrde36 @vthx

[reesereadsalot]

omg could you do routledge!reader where jj is dating kie bc he's in love with reader but knows jb would never let it happen so reader gets all sad and there's some tension there bc jj and reader have been so super close since childhood like reader, jb, n jj were the og trio and something happens that sparks jj to confess (also unless you want it differently, could jj just be a rebound or a fling or something to kie so her and reader don't end up hating each other bc that's my queen my home girl 🤞). Pope knows full well that the two of them are in love and possibly tries to slap some sense into one or both of them

literally in love with this req (marry me pls) anyway ofc!

I involved Pope but I wanted reader to slap some sense into the boys (JJ and JB) instead of another person trying to do it because she’s apart of the og trio.

shy!reader and JJ’s first kiss . . .

warnings: drinking, smoking, being drunk, kissing/making out, fighting, blood

word count: 1.5k

The first time you saw them kiss, you thought your heart broke. JJ was sitting on your couch with Kiara next to him and they were kissing. It was dark outside, when the world was quiet. There was a mess all over the house of random cups and other trash.

The party had been your idea. At your house. Of course you didn’t tell anyone that though. You let John B handle the invites and telling everyone. You probably would’ve died before you let anyone know it was your idea and your planning.

The party had been fun until JJ got drunk enough to kiss Kiara in front of everyone. You didn’t know JJ likes Kiara. He didn’t tell you. He always tells you when he likes a girl.

The party was over and they were still making out, drunk as fuck. You couldn’t lie, you were drunk too. You wanted so badly to yell at JJ. Scream at him for not realizing that you liked him. Loved him even.

Well, no one could doubt that you did in-fact love him. But it probably wasn’t in the way you really did love him. You had been friends with JJ for forever. Ever since he became friends with JB, he became friends with you. You all did everything together. Then came Kie and Pope and now Sarah. You are all a little family. But, it started with JJ, John B and you.

You just sighed heavily and grabbed the nearest joint you could find. You grabbed another cheap red cup and filled it with some strong alcohol that you probably couldn’t read in your state. You plopped into a seat on the front porch and lit the joint. You didn’t know how long you had been outside, staring at the stars until you heard a voice.

“Damn, smoking a joint without me?” You startled at JJ’s voice and looked at him. His grin grew wider when you met his eyes and you felt heat creeping up your neck. “I can’t believe this.” He said in mock offense. He grabbed the join from your two fingers and takes a drag.

“This is mine too.” He plops into the seat, next to you.

“Sorry.” You mumble before taking a drink from your cup. The alcohol burns on its way down your throat. You look at JJ and realize why you’re out here in the first place. You gulp down the rest of your drink, coughing afterwards.

“Slow down!” JJ laughs patting you on the back to help your coughing. “What’s got you all mopey?” He teases.

“‘S nothing.” You slur looking at him, plastering on a fake smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. JJ’s smile disappears. He takes off the red hat he was wearing to run a hand through his hair. He places the hat on top of your head.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asks, this time with more sentiment.

“Nothing you should worry your pretty lil’ head about.” You giggle at your own words. You couldn’t even tell why you were saying things like that. You reach for the blunt again but JJ puts it above his head. “Give that to me.” You slur reaching to grab it. You almost fall over before he catches you, putting a hand on your waist. The hat falls off of your head.

“I think it’s time to call it a night.” He says with a soft smile, still trying to tease you.

“Why don’t you go back to Kiara and leave me alone.” You grumble, trying to grab the joint from his hand.

“Is that what this is about—Kie?” JJ asks you, his smile fading. Him and Kiara were just friends with benefits. Nothing serious.

“No.” You say abruptly, heat crawling up your neck and onto your cheeks once again. JJ barks out a laugh and you furrow your brows at him. “What’s funny?” You ask, voice sharper than intended.

He stares at your face searching for any signs of a joke. This has to be a joke.

“Are you jealous?” He tries to sound teasing but his voice is quiet, calm. He genuinely wants to know. You snort at his words, trying to deflect.

“Why would I be jealous?” You ridicule.

“I don’t know, why would you?” He asks, words edged with something you can’t quite make out. You stare at him unable to come up with an answer other than the truth under his piercing gaze. “Me and Kie are just a fling anyway, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t?” You perk up at his words.

“No, it doesn’t.” He basically whispers the words.

The air between you two gets thicker with a tension you don’t have the strength to name. Your faces inch towards each other, unable to resist. JJ smells faintly of cologne mixed with the smell of weed and alcohol. Unable to take the tension any longer, he kisses you. At first, you’re surprised but then you melt at his touch.

The kiss is not as calm as you imagined it to be. It’s filled with hunger and desire that hasn’t been met for far too long. You close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the kiss. JJ’s fingers tangle in your hair pulling you closer to him than you already are. His tongue grazes your lips, begging for entry. You gasp at the sudden intrusion which allows him to fully enter your mouth. Your tongues tangle with each other. You wrap your arms around his neck and get lost in the new sensations of your feelings.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

You pull back from JJ immediately, cheeks turning pink. You take in a deep breath and look up at your brother. His face is a mix of fury and revulsion.

“My sister, JJ, really?” John B yells getting the attention from the other pogues inside. JB grabs JJ by the bicep and shoves him off of the porch. JJ charges at your brother.

“Guys, stop!” You step in front of them before they can get a hand on eachother. You face John B. “It’s fine, really.” You try to reassure him.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into getting involved with him!” He yells, you step back from him running into JJ’s chest.

“Hey man, lay off her.” He defends you, carefully pulling you behind him.

“Oh, I need to lay off her? She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into!” John B takes the chance with you out of the way to swing at JJ. You can’t really tell what’s going on with your drunkenness and the adrenaline. Both of them are just laying punches at each other in every direction.

“Stop! Stop!” You yell but it’s no use they won’t stop. You step closer trying to grab either of them. “Guys, just stop! Let’s—“

Pain erupts on your face and you fall back into the grass. You let out a cry of pain and bring a hand up to your nose. You sit up on the ground and look at your hand. There’s blood. You let out a sob.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks you cupping your face in his hands. “Dammit man, you hit her!” He yells at John B.

“I hit her?” John B argues back.

“Stop! Stop fighting!” You yell at them, anger evident on your face. Tears flowing down your cheeks. JJ looks back at you, wiping the tears with his thumb.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He says to you, concern written all over his face. “Pope, can you get a tissue or something?” He asks Pope and you look back at the house. Kiara, Pope—who went back inside the house—and Sarah saw the whole thing. Saw you get hit. Saw you fall down. You blush under their stares.

“Hey, hey, just look at me, okay?” JJ moves your head with his hands. “Don’t focus on them.” He tells you, wiping some blood from under your nose. He places a quick peck on your lips and you smile at him. The pain is less evident with JJ comforting you.

John B and JJ gran each of your hands guiding you to the seat on the front porch. Pope had grabbed the tissue and brought it back by the time you sat down. JJ wiped your nose for you, planning to hold the tissue until the bleeding stopped. You slapped his hand away, snatching the tissue and keeping it on your nose.

The boys sat in silence in front of you, too petty to apologize or say anything first.

“Are you both going to keep fighting about this?” You spoke up abruptly, tired of the silence. John B just shook his head no.

“No, sorry.” JJ mumbled.

“Okay, hug it out now.” You smiled at your own words. They both wrinkled their noses in disgust. “Do it.” You said gesturing with your free hand for them to hug. They hugged quickly, breaking free almost immediately.

“No more fights, okay?” You asked them, needing confirmation. They didn’t utter a word. “Okay?” You said sharper, louder this time.

“Yes ma’am.” They both said at the same time. You barked out a laugh at their antics.

“You’re both stupid.” You pushed their faces away from yours with your hands, the tissue forgotten on your lap.

“You love us.” John B said, laughing.

“Yeah, you love us.” JJ echoed.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, pulling them both into a hug. “Please don’t fight over me.” You begged and you felt them both nod on your shoulder.

“I still don’t want you with JJ.” John B tried to scold you but you pushed him away with a groan.

“Oh my god, actually shut up.”

tags: @mojitrvo | @kieeslove

[goodolddumbbanana]

Nexus and hallucation Eclipse conversation. This happened after Sun gets forcefully yeet back his dimensions.

Not really good cuz i suck at grammar.

Darkness spread across the floor, thick and sticky like a prowling python, coiled around Nexus. The animatronic, dressed in a tattered black robe, lay motionless, with its legs stretched out and its head bowed. He appeared to be asleep, only the purple light flickering like a will-o'-the-wisp, swirling in his eye sockets, signaling the slow return of consciousness. Honestly, a corpse would have been more energetic than whatever condition he is now. "Wakey, wakey~~ Wake up, Nexus! Don't tell me princess you love sleeping around now?" He groaned. An orange blur hovered in front of him. It was no surprise that it was not light that greeted Nexus when he woke up, but a demon crawling out of hell. "Aw? What the matter? Sad because someone abandoned you?" The voice whispered mockingly heavily, like a snake sliding its cold steel tongue across Nexus's bare nape.

"Fuck off." Nexus breathed deeply, drops of oil dripping from his eye sockets. The base of his leg hurt like it was being snapped in half. He wanted to raise his hand to throw whatever rocks or trash was around him at the other, but the pain from overusing his wither energy left him paralyzed, only able to wait until everything inside him didn't feel like it was trying to come out.

"Oh don't be so rude." The orange figure rolled his eyes, "You need me here, Nexus, more or less. I'm the only one who's actually do something to slow down whatever's going on inside your head." They curled their fingers, as if to check for nonexistent dirt in their fingernails.

Or simply just running their hands over him was enough to disgust them.

“Unless you want to go insane? I didn't know you are the dog person? Because I see you’re quite used to following anyone who give you a little pet in your head.”

Their mocking gazes shot down from above, as if just breathing the same air as Nexus made them nauseous. “I don’t need your help.” Nexus gritted his teeth, “I don’t need anyone’s help.” He pulled his hood up over his head, staggering to his feet. Nausea coursed through Nexus, through his circuitry and every bit of artificial flesh on his body. “You’re just some fucking hallucination I can’t erase, and you should just go die or go somewhere else with all the other assholes inside my head.”

"Im not your fucking puppet." Eclipse laughed.

"Not our puppet they said."

Their voices were still as rough and gritty as sand, with the feeling of scratching fingernails against a chalkboard. “Ungrateful as ever, Nexus. And I thought with your lovely brother’s influence, you’d learn a little manners.” Their bodies hovered in front of Nexus, slapping the top of his hood. Something that was practically impossible, so they just passed through Nexus's head like a breeze.

"Sun is not my brother." Nexus growled, almost shouting, making his already sore throat feel like a gravel press. "HE WAS NEVER MY BROTHER!!! IF… IF SUN REALLY--" The hooded animatronic took a deep breath. Black droplets of oil dripped from his eye sockets again.

"If Sun had ever considered me family, he wouldn't have left like that." Nexus's body swayed, almost falling to the ground, his hands resting on the rough wooden trunks. "He'dn't leave."

Everything was still too blurry before him, it seemed like Nexus had fallen into a swamp or something, the wet and slippery feeling clinging to his body. A few loud owls hoot in the sporadic darkness, with the shadows of trees covering the sky like a cage covering Nexus, a few slow-burning fires under the animatronic's feet, also the only light to guide him. This half-mad man couldn't help but wonder where the hell he was.

"So that's all that's going on?" Eclipse didn't care about Nexus' anger at all, just picked a tree trunk and sat lazily. "The storm. The explosion. The 'Oh, i'm so insane and you should fear me because I'm your God and also Yessss, everything go back to the void'... all of that....

Just because you're mad at Sun for leaving, so you're going crazy here begging for Sun to come back? Did you even know you have lose your control so bad to the point THEY take control over you for WEEK, and leaving me to clean up the mess like always?"

"You F%%& pathetic animal, just looking at you makes me cry."

"Congratulations Nexus, you have discovered a different type of fuck up."

"I never asked you to be here. And I never asked you to be my therapist." Nexus ignored Eclipse's annoying voice, and tried to find a stick to crawl out. He didn't know where he was going, but anything was better than being here and hearing Eclipse's yapping.

"You think I want to be here?" The orange illusion laughed, a cold cackling, dying laugh. "Really…" Eclipse cleared their throat, their hands coming to their eyes. "Who do you think I am, Nexus?"

"Your Solar?" The wind blew, carrying the scent of burnt wood. They were suddenly standing before him, too blurry to be real, too detailed to make out a ghost in the corner of Nexus's eye. The surprise sent him stumbling back, his eyes twitching.

"Scared?" The voices suddenly became too loud in Nexus's head. It felt like he was underwater, drowning and unable to breathe, his brain suffocated by fish and water. They were tearing him apart, spinning him like a doll, pulling him apart until he had no memory of who he was. And suddenly, he was back to reality with a snap of their fingers. "Let me be clear, Nexus. I am not something you can ignore. I am not your friend." Eclispe said softly, their backs arched, staring blankly at Nexus's collapsed body. "The fact that I'm here, keeping you awake instead of fucking leaving you and letting your body to go play puppet, is something you should be infinitely grateful for." "And why did you do that?" Nexus chuckled lowly from the ground, sand clinging to his cheeks, his fingertips digging into the mud.

“The Eclipse I remember would never help someone without some benefit.

And let me not remind you that like everyone else, you just wanted to use me and make me throw Sun and Moon into the void.” For the first time in their lives, they fell silent. Then, in a voice that was too benign, they replied emotionlessly.

“You're right. But there's one thing you're forgetting. Perhaps from the very beginning, my purpose and theirs were never the same.”

Then, Eclipse fucking disappeared.

This is a continuation of Superhell AU collab fic.

It was getting a little too long for one post, so I’m calling this part 2. Part 1 is Here Current Collaborators:

@goodolddumbbanana

@sillyzone1209

@sabrondabrainrot

@night-waker

@xnackery027

⭐️You don’t need permission to add onto this! It’s just a fun writing piece. I’ll add names as I see them. The AU is tagged as Superhell AU. ⚠️ The only thing I ask is that the writing be capped with a “keep reading”, so the post isn’t a million miles long. Otherwise, go ham. 🙏 Thank you to everyone who’s been showing love to the AU! Your ideas are amazing and bringing life to this. 🫡 If I’m missing a tag, or anything important I forgot, feel free to let me know! I’ll edit and credit accordingly.

[cvl-kestis]

i'm also very annoyed about how the symbolism of cassian's character was handled throughout this season. in rogue one and going into season two, the great tragedy of cassian was that he was no one at all -- destined to go unremembered and never live to see the world he gave everything to create. he had been through hell and back not because it had to be that way but because he was brave enough to choose hell in hopes that it might make a better tomorrow. and then he was wiped off the map and the men who destroyed the death star using the plans he stole never knew his name.

according to andor season two, though, cassian was always meant to be on scarif because he's a "messenger." he has lampshaded plot armor until he can die the way he was born to die, because it was always his destiny to make sure those plans made it off that base. also, he is survived by his partner and a child he never knew about, solidifying his legacy. this... is silly. it is beyond noble for cassian to make the willing choice to be forgotten in service of a greater cause. i'm much less compelled if the story is about cassian unintentionally being dragged to his death by fate and then getting remembered as a hero.

[saintvainglorious]

Fics I Enjoyed in January - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 2

I am still neck-deep in DC fandom this month and the fics have been so so good. Unlike last time, I am too tired to write mini summaries/reviews, so I'm going to feature my favorite quote from each fic instead.

My first DC Comics fic rec list is here!

Floor Plans by @oh-mother-of-darkness (Teen & Up, 1k, 2016) “I really didn’t want to die,” he finished. “I was kind of hoping if I laid here long enough, I would remember what that felt like.”

Losing two brothers in six months takes an emotional toll.

almost right by @bitimdrake (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) He desperately wishes that he didn’t know what Dick’s cheekbone feels like under a gauntleted fist.

Bruce sucks in a breath, hand raising to fix the cowl. Dick flinches back.

but more with love by @danishsweethearts (Teen & Up, 3k, 2022) Dick wakes up one morning, groggy from a dream that he thinks might’ve been about the circus and also about his favourite car and also about how lonely he is, and realizes that he can’t remember what his mother’s voice sounds like anymore.

O Robin, Robin, wherefore art thou Robin?

The Mechanics of a Hug by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 4k, 2017) “You know… that crushing sense of depression? Like,” Dick chews his lip. “It’s. A physical weight. Makes it hard to breathe?” “Yeah,” Tim says, soft. He smiles, wryly. “I sort of hoped you didn’t, though.”

“So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.”

No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 1k, 2020) Tim’s eyes go even wider. “You stole my organs?” “Technically,” Jason chimes in, “the doctors stole your organs. We just gave them permission.”

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?” Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

The Wind Sits in the Shoulder of Your Sail by @birdchildsnest (Teen & Up, 7k, 2020) “Oh my god. Bruce. I can’t even tell if you’re serious. When everybody finally eats the rich—they’re going to eat you first.”

At least, back then, Tim had barely been a teenager. He could almost forgive his own volatility. And he’d been smart enough (scared enough?) not to tell Jack that he didn’t need him. What was his excuse now? Bruce was his dad (at least, in the legal sense), but (surprise, surprise) it turned out that Tim wasn’t any better at being a son. Or Tim and Bruce still have some things to sort through after the adoption.

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 21k, 2022) He doesn’t want to be loved if being loved is like this.

"I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna do) ♫ by @drakefeathers (Teen & Up, 20k, 2014) "They live their lives thinking they can charge through the city with the right to hurt and kill and destroy as many lives as they want. And they do it all without a shred of remorse." “But—” Damian begins, brow furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that like you?”

a Jason and Damian as Batman and Robin AU!! featuring a bunch of graffiti, a rival dynamic duo, and Cat Jason (a cat named Jason).

The Biggest Mistake by @oh-mother-of-darkness (General Audiences, 1k, 2016) “I could ground him anyway, if it would make you feel better.” “He only said it because I called him ‘a garbage can so ineffective it actually became garbage.’”

"You know what really needs to be addressed? Bruce's truly terrible treatment of Damian." -Me, on a daily basis

been a number and a name by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 35k, 2023) “Turns out if you just say ‘spacetime’ until people’s eyes glaze over they don’t really question anything you say. Also, somehow nobody expects me to be able to actually do enough math to explain it.”

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 70k, 2024) "Wait, ugh, you're not my dead dad, right? If I'm getting a dying vision of my dead dad I want a do-over because he suuuuucked."

When Gotham's crooks have to scrub down their lairs, who do they call? Jason Todd, Gotham's first and only underworld crime scene cleaning specialist. He's spent his life dodging the Bat, but after a chance encounter he saves Robin's life. Tim Drake finds himself drawn to the conflicted rogue, and soon Jason becomes Robin's street informant. But they can only stay on opposite sides of the law for so long before something breaks.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari (Teen & Up, 70k (WIP), 2023) “Try to decouple one thing from the other. I’m proud of you, but ice cream isn’t my grand statement about whether you’ve been good or bad today. Good things are good. Happiness is precious. Sometimes you just want caramel chocolate chip.”

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

wolf-king of rome by @mysterycitrus (Not Rated, 25k, 2024) “You go after Joker, but you don’t kill him, because it’s not about the Joker dying, it’s about Bruce breaking his code for you. It’s about Bruce loving you enough to change himself for the worse. It’s about your idea of grieving.”

Jason doesn’t fear Dick Grayson. Fear itself has changed shape for him, since his return from the Pit - it tastes of dirt in his mouth, of drowning, of fire and blood and laughter, more than a tangible face. Still, he’d be stupid not to be cautious. Dick liked playing on an uneven field, and would do anything to keep him off balance, so he just had to stay focused. That’s the nature of the armistice, both waiting for the other to make a move. It’s like balancing on the head of a pin.

Declensions by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 13k, 2018) “Do not tell them your name. Do as I did to survive. I lied. I have always lied. Make one up. Do not let them have you. Say your name is…is…is…Richard Grayson. Or something. They are going to steal you; do not give them anything to steal.”

“My father,” Dick says, “worked the rope. It cut him. His hands were never clean.”

Passiontide by @bigdvmnhero (Teen & Up, 5k, 2025) Despite its faults, the day had tried to be good. He felt young, like someone's son.

On the 96th day Bruce didn't call, Dick remembered their old game. Three things he knew: 1) In three months, it would be Dick's death anniversary; 2) Bruce was still missing his check-ins; 3) Here Dick was, persisting. Imagine the things I'd survive, Dick thought distantly, if I loved Bruce less. Or: Agent 37 and his various crises of faith, on Day 277 at Spyral, Day 150, and Day -0.

the time you won your town the race by @silverwhittlingknife (Teen & Up, 4k (WIP), 2022) Tim. Tim is Dick’s. Death sharpens, clarifies these things. Who will receive the body, decide on the funeral, receive condolences, make all the decisions that matter. No one has questioned it, not even Tim’s friends. There’s a terrible clarity about death. If Dick said, let’s burn everything he owned, Alfred would do it.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

door, opening by @cowboysorceror (Mature, 70k (WIP), 2024) Dick, with the keys to every locked door Jason has ever tried to open, tucked inside the cradle of his skull; all of that, snuffed out like a candle.

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

[cruisinforarubberman]

I'm gonna have to make a masterpost about this aren't I? XD Anyway:

I did Dick already, so let's discuss Tim and Steph! Not to mention my baby boy.

I'm totally on board with bisexual Tim. And the idea that he doesn't know that until he's straight up asked out by a guy. And that's the through line, too. He. Is. Dense. As. Fuck. He starts feeling feelings for someone when they make it clear they like him first. In bed he's very excited, a bit clumsy in his enthusiasm, but he really enjoys mutual give and take. If you rock his socks, he rocks yours right back.

Steph is for sure attracted to men, canonically at least, and I'd like to keep true to that. But she bonds with the girlies pretty well, so her being into women isn't impossible? Something tells me it would be more butch women then feminine women. So Imma say polysexual, attracted to some genders but not all. She's sweet and attentive in bed, doesn't need anything crazy to have a good time, but is down to play if the interest is there. Loves to tease her partners until they blush.

Last for this batch is Colin, by pansexual brother from another mother. I just get that feeling from him, what can I say? (mostly because we don't have enough of him in canon to say that's not true so) In my head he thinks all of Damian's family, and close friends too for some reason, are pretty. When he gets older he realizes he's drawn to the lifestyle, and that's why they all have that something that catches his eye. As for in bed...he's a brat. He teases and bites and pinches and really just wants to be put in his place (which is to be picked up and/or thrown by Damian's big strong man muscles). Aftercare requires a lot of cuddles and kisses, and reassurances that he's loved, but he looks at his man like he hung the stars in the sky.

ASK ME MORE. Don't worry about the Batfam part, if they're associated with them I'll come up with something.

Someone ask me about my headcanon sexualities for BatFam characters. It's pride month.

[sideblogdotjpeg]

have been thinking about professor sol even. professor bufo with no clearly discernable lesson plan. sol bufo ostensibly martial arts professor who spent two weeks running a yoga and meditation program and shows up to the next class with crochet hooks for everyone. professor bufo who is technically supposed to be assigning grades to students but hasnt given anyone less than an A because "i think they worked really hard and they did a great job :)" (referring to the ugliest and most malformed pot holder anyone has laid eyes upon in their life). professor bufo who is on his way to cluelessly kickstart the sexual awakening of about half the cohort of the academys new students. sol bufo adjunct professor who is gone half the year and his first class back is so immediately and easily baited into going into a long tangent about how cool his friends are. sol who is pretty sure hes easily the most useless professor on campus and almost cries when he sees his little desk overflowing with thank you notes at the end of the year. professor bufo absolutely fucking gloriously hot in the tightest little sweater vest because there were faculty complaints when he wore a crop top to class.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Oh this was awkward.

Lucifer: Well...... Don't freak out but..... I think someone ate it. It wasn't on you when I got to you.

Adam's jaw dropped: S-someone ate my dick!?

Lucifer winced: Yeah...... You ummm..... You had nothing from the belly button down Soooo..... That's why things are... Different. None of the other angels were men so I couldn't give you one.... Sorry.

Adam: Oh my fucking god...... S-so I have a-?

Lucifer: Vagina yes......

Adam: ....... Great. Just great.

In a weird way at least this kept his girls close and alive.......

Lucifer: I know this is a big change but it was the best I could do with what I had.

Adam: How long...... How long am I going to be awkward like this?

Lucifer: I'm not sure. It's gonna be like..... I think they call it physio therapy? It will probably take a while but I'll help you as much as I can okay?

Adam: Okay.... Why.... Why am I smaller?

Lucifer: Oh! Well the bottom half that worked best for you was smaller. I had to adjust what I could to make it look..... Natural.

Adam wiggled his new toes, everything was tingling but that was a good thing. Meant he was getting feeling in his limbs. The nail polish on the toes were hot pink.

Adam: O-oh god.... Are these Jade's legs?

Jade loved hot pink.....

Lucifer: I don't know.... I'm sorry about them Adam. You really cared for them.

Adam: They were like a second family...... How many died?

Lucifer: Umm..... From what I could tell maybe ten?

Adam: Fuck......

Lucifer: But! Everyone else went back to Heaven safely.

He needed to keep Adam calm, he didn't want to upset him and have him rip a stitch before they healed.

Adam: Y-yeah?

Lucifer: Yeah.

He set Adam's legs down gently and came up closer, he offered his hand to Adam's other one.

Lucifer: Squeeze okay? We'll go slow, move your arm as much as you can okay?

Adam did as he was told, his arm more sore than the legs.

Lucifer: Let me know if you're hungry or anything okay? You need your strength.

✨️Morningstar's Monster✨️

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

He was too late.

Everything happened so fast that by the time Lucifer remembered exactly what they were celebrating, he panicked and made some poor excuse to leave his daughter and her friends.

He pushed through the door and ran down the stairs and along what used to be the driveway, but now, it was a literal war zone.

He doesn't remember where he last saw him. You'd think someone wearing purple and gold would stand out. But they didn't.

The king cringed as he ran up to different angels, only to see them getting their flesh torn and eaten. He heard the snapping of their bones, the slurping of their blood. Lucifer obviously knew of cannibals, but to see them in action was definitely something he didn't want to witness ever again.

He looked around more, scanning the battlefield his eyes widened when he saw a golden sleeve. Or, more specifically, an arm being lifted by a sinner. Two more joined its side. They tore into the fabric and quickly bit and pulled flesh off the bone. Soon, the whole arm was torn off by the sheer power of their frienzie.

It was then that Lucifer saw red.

He charged forward and handled the small group of sinners. He could already feel Charlie's disappointment, but at this moment, he didn't care.

Once he was alone with the corpse he was looking for, he once again stood above it, looking down.

Adam was mangled. He didn't look like himself. His left arm was gone, both legs, most of his stomach, and half of his chest. It was just done. Even some of his ribs were broken and pulled apart. Lucifer was even able to see where the angels pulled the rib out of his chest to create Eve, all of those years ago.

The king sighed and kneeled next to the first man.

Even now, it still didn't feel real that he was gone. Lucifer was expecting to hear that enraging laugh any second. But it never came.

Lucifer: Fuck, I'm s-... shit...

The king soon glared at Adam: You know you fucked up, right? You know you're an asshole when I don't feel sorry for what I did... I'm usually full of fucking regret... but not for this. Not for what I did... doesn't mean I wanted it to end this way.

He looked around the battlefield. The place was littered with fallen exorcists.

Lucifer: ...I don't even know if you deserve a second- THIRD chance. But... maybe I'm selfish enough to give you one...

[brionysea]

when max is depressed we know something's wrong because lucas says with his words that he knows something's wrong but when mike is depressed we don't think anything of it because will's right next to him rolling his eyes about how stupid straight people are