#hint of romance

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Hope Springs Eternal

Can you believe that this amazing game has such little content on this site...?

The Underworld wasn’t known for being a place of hope. It was a realm of endless suffering, a stagnant reflection of mortality, and a constant reminder of the futility of escape. Yet, deep within its obsidian walls, a seed of hope took root, blossoming in the form of Elpis, the goddess of hope.

And Zagreus, the rebellious prince of the Underworld, found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

You weren’t like the other Olympian deities who occasionally graced the House of Hades with their booms and blessings. They wielded power and grandeur, aloof and detached from the suffering that swirled around them. You, however, were different. You felt the despair in the air, the souls trapped in their eternal torment. And you desperately wanted to ease it.

You were a newcomer, practically a whisper in the grand halls of the Underworld. Your presence didn't command attention like Poseidon's tidal surge or Zeus's electrifying roar. But your aura, a gentle warmth that resonated with resilience, was a quiet beacon in the oppressive gloom.

Zagreus, ever observant, noticed you almost immediately. He saw you offering quiet comfort to shades, whispering encouraging words that seemed to shimmer like heat haze in the Styx. He saw how you would tend to forgotten patches of Persephone's garden, coaxing life back into withered blooms.

Intrigued, he approached you one day near the training grounds. He was glistening with ichor after a particularly brutal sparring session with Megara.

"Elpis, isn't it?" he said, wiping a streak of ichor off his forehead. "I haven't seen you around much."

You turned, your eyes widening slightly. Zagreus, even covered in battle grime, possessed a captivating charm. "Prince Zagreus," you replied, offering a small curtsy. "I am... new. And perhaps not as visible as some."

"No need for formalities," he chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair. "So, goddess of... hope. An interesting portfolio for this particular location, don't you think?" He gestured around at the bleak landscape.

"I have been... summoned,” you said, a voice like the chime of distant bells.

Zagreus raised an eyebrow. "Summoned? By whom? Not... Father, I presume?"

Elpis hesitated. "He is... aware of my presence. But it was not his direct request, no."

Intrigued beyond measure, Zagreus entered the room. "Then who?"

Elpis looked down at her hands, which seemed to ripple with captured starlight. "I... I am bound to say little. But I can tell you this: someone, somewhere, believes you need hope."

Zagreus snorted, a bitter sound. "Hope in the Underworld? That's a cruel joke, even for the Fates."

You met his gaze, a quiet strength in your expression. "Perhaps," you said softly. "But even in the darkest depths, there is always a possibility for something better. A chance for solace."

That was the beginning. Over the next few weeks, you remained in the House of Hades. Your presence was a balm to the weary atmosphere. You brought a lightness that even Cerberus seemed to appreciate, a quiet joy that permeated the otherwise grim halls. You’d offer a kind word to the shades, sharing whispers of warmth and encouragement. Even Nyx, the ever-stoic Mother of Night, seemed to soften around you. Your interactions with the prince of the Underworld became more frequent. Zagreus would seek you out after his escape attempts, sharing his frustrations and small victories. You, in turn, would listen patiently, offering words of encouragement and a perspective that often surprised him.

You admired his tenacity, his refusal to be defined by his father's expectations. He admired your empathy, your unwavering belief in the potential for good even in the face of endless suffering.

He learned that your powers weren't about grandiose displays of light or promises of easy salvation. They were about fostering resilience, about finding strength in the face of adversity. He discovered that your presence could soothe the burning ache in his wounds after a tough run, not by magically healing him, but by reminding him why he was fighting.

Zagreus found himself drawn to you. He'd stop by your corner of his father's office, drawn by your gentle smile and insightful conversation. He found himself talking to you about his failed escape attempts, his frustrations, his fears. He even confided in you about his yearning to find his mother.

One day, after a particularly heart-wrenching encounter with Orpheus and Eurydice, Zagreus sought you out. He sat beside you on a moss-covered rock overlooking the Asphodel Meadows, the lamentations of the shades echoing in the background.

"It's... it's so unfair," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "All this suffering, this endless cycle..."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "I know," you said softly. "But even in their pain, there is a flicker of something. A longing for peace, a memory of joy. And that is worth fighting for."

He turned to you, his green eyes searching yours. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"I embody that," you said, a ghost of a smile appearing on your face. "You are not defined by your failures, Zagreus," you continued, your voice laced with surprising firmness. "You are defined by your persistence, by your willingness to rise again, even when the weight of the Underworld crushes you."

He took a deep breath, the weight on his shoulders seeming to lessen slightly. "Thank you, Elpis. For... everything."

He laced his fingers through yours, a silent gesture that spoke volumes. The touch was electric, a spark of warmth that chased away the chilling despair of the Underworld. It was a moment of quiet intimacy, a shared understanding that transcended the darkness around you.

Your relationship blossomed slowly, a fragile flower pushing through the cracked earth of the Underworld. It was a bond built on shared empathy, mutual admiration, and a quiet understanding that hope, even in the face of eternal torment, could indeed spring eternal.

He found himself thinking about her words during his runs. He still died, of course. He still felt the sting of failure. But now, there was a spark of something else, a stubborn refusal to be broken. He started experimenting with different boons, different weapons, finding new strategies. He started to feel... stronger.

One day, after a particularly grueling run, he returned to the House exhausted but exhilarated. He found Elpis waiting for him.

"You are improving, Prince," you observed, a smile playing on your lips.

"Thanks to you," Zagreus admitted. "You've given me… hope."

Your gaze intensified. "Hope is a powerful thing, Zagreus. But it is also fragile. It needs to be nurtured, protected."

He reached out, tentatively touching your hand. Your skin was warm and soft. "I will protect it," he vowed. "I will protect you."

But when he returned to the House of Hades, Elpis was gone. Zagreus ransacked the entire house, but there was no trace of you. Not even a whisper. As a last resort, he confronted the person he wanted to see the least.

"Elpis? Her time here is over. Her influence is… unwelcome." The incessant scratching of his father’s quill grated on Zagreus’s nerves.

“What…?” Zagreus felt his blood stopping in his veins.

Lord Hades finally raised his head, eyes burning with displeasure. “Hope is not what is needed here," Hades retorted. "Discipline, order, that is what the Underworld requires.” He waved his hand dismissively, as if he was flicking away an annoying bug, “Your distractions have gone on long enough."

Zagreus stood there, numb, his heart aching with a pain he hadn't felt in centuries. Had he just lost the first real connection he’d made in millennia? His resolve hardened. He wouldn't let his father dictate his life. He wouldn't let the darkness consume him. He would find Elpis.

He charged towards the training yard, grabbing Stygian Blade from the weapons rack. He would escape the Underworld again and again, and again, until he found the one who had given him hope. He would seek her out, wherever she may be, and bring her back. For hope was not a weakness, but a strength, the very thing that fueled his unending journey. And he would not let it be extinguished. He owed it to her. He owed it to himself. And, perhaps, one day, he would even owe it to the entire Underworld. His journey had just gained a new, more profound purpose. He was no longer just escaping; he was searching. And he wouldn't stop until he found Elpis.

Zagreus, the prince who defied fate, finally found something worth fighting for besides his freedom. He found it in the unwavering belief of a goddess who saw the good in even the darkest of places, a goddess who reminded him that even in the Underworld, hope could bloom. And you found a kindred spirit in the fiery prince, a champion who, time and time again, proved that even in the face of impossible odds, perseverance and a little bit of hope could make all the difference.

Your story was just beginning, a testament to the enduring power of hope in the heart of darkness, a promise that even the smallest spark could ignite into a flame that could illuminate the entire Underworld. And together, Zagreus and Elpis would continue to fight for that flame, ensuring that hope, in all its fragile beauty, would never truly be extinguished.

[idolomantises]

I was just complaining about Dandadan fans being weirdly against shipping but after seeing the BNHA fandom's behavior uh. i get it now.

[ink-stains-and-constellations]

Why are there not, like... platonic x reader fics. Like, I don't wanna date these characters, I just want to hang out with them and crack jokes and banter and get takeaway and play videogames and maybe even hug and bop them on the head and just have affectionate platonic physical contact??? I want to read a fic about being friends with them, and yet all I can find is romantic reader insert fics.

[acourtofchaos]

thinking about best friend!theo, who considers marriage a death sentence, losing his mind when he finds out your parents are going to force you to go on dates with potential marriage prospects when you return home. leading to him persuading you to let him steal you away to italy for the summer so he can keep you out of your their clutches and away from the boys on their list who he knows won’t treat you the way you deserve

he's trying to find a way out of the whole thing whilst also showing you around his home and maybe theo should have known it was dangerous to let you into this part of his life he's given no one else access to but god, you're his best friend, practically the other half of his soul, and he can't imagine letting anyone else have this piece of him

besides, it doesn't seem like such a bad idea, not at least until a few weeks pass and there's a new kind of bloom in chest when he looks at you that only grows the harder he tries to fight it and the answer to your problems suddenly lies in a proposal he's too afraid to offer 

[alastor-simp]

Never Been Kissed💋 - Alastor x Female Reader

❥Summary: It gets revealed to everyone that you have never been kissed before ever, in your previous life and afterlife, and a certain deer demon takes interest in that

❥Tags: Alastor x Female Reader, Alastor x Reader, Never Been Kissed, First Kiss, Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction, Angel Is Your Bestie, Hint of Spice, Kissing, Al Becomes A Kissing Maniac

❥Notes: I love First Kiss stories so I wanted to do one with Alastor. Enjoy:) (Fanart credit to unakura on Twitter)

"That guy is smoking hot!! Denise is def gonna choose him." Angel said, as he was leaning against the pillow, face a bit flushed from the guys hotness. "Nah, he's too much of a tool. Besides Ray is a much better choice and he's much hotter." You argued back against Angel's comment. The both of you were watching a hell's version of a dating show, set in the Lust Ring of Hell. It was similar to the shows on Earth, just with demons and more sluttier plot. Everyone else was doing their own thing, Charlie and Vaggie were deciding what the next redemption lesson was, Sir Pentious and Niffty were baking in the kitchen, Husk was cleaning the bar glasses, and Alastor was sitting across from the both of you, reading his daily newspaper, chair facing a bit away from the TV due to his dislike of it.

The show continued on, the two pairs becoming a couple, which eventually lead to a hot make out session. Flustered, you turned your head away, raising your hand above your eyes to cover the scene in front of you. Angel took quick notice of your reaction, bolting out in laughter. "HAHA what's the matter with ya? Can't handle a little kissy kiss scene?" You shook your head no at his question, causing him to laugh more. "Seriously toots, you act like you never kissed before." Angel continued to laugh, his feet kicking up in the air. Lowering your hand, your face flushed red, super embarrassed. "I haven't." Unbeknownst to you, Alastors ears flicked a bit at what you said, eyes leaving the paper to gaze at you. Angel couldn't fully make out what you said because of his laughter, but he soon stopped, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What you say toots? I didn't catch that." Angel asked, inching closer towards you. Fingers twirling your hair, you slowly responded back to Angel, "I have never been kissed."

"WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?" Angels loud response, alerted the residents around him, half of them running into the lobby to see what was going on. Angel hands had grabbed your shoulders, shaking you like a maniac. "YOU'RE TELLING ME IN THE TIME YOU HAVE BEEN ALIVE AND IN HELL, NO HANDSOME SCHMUCK HAS EVER KISSED YOU BEFORE?!" Angel had fully stopped shaking you, which you were thankful for since you started to feel a bit sick. "No." The others had walked closer to where you were on the couch, except Al as he was still sitting on the chair, but his newspaper was closed, watching the scene in front of him with curious eyes. "OH MY SATAN!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! Angel's body began to lean against the couch, hands covering his eyes in disbelief.

Vaggie had slowly made her away over, a bit annoyed at Angel's reaction. "Hey, there's no need to get so work about a stupid kiss. Plenty of people have never been kissed before." Angel removed his hands from his face, glaring a bit at Vaggie. "That's not why I'm shocked. I'm shocked that someone hasn't taken one look at my best friend and thought "I wanna smooch them." Feels like a crime." Niffty, being her quick self, had run up on the couch, hands placed on your cheeks, crazed eye starring at you. "How come you never gotten kissed before? Saving yourself for the ultimate bad boy? It felt like a million eyes were watching you right now, making you extremely shy - your body wanting to escape from this awkward situation. "Look I- I don't um...."

Sensing your discomfort, Charlie had walked over, grabbing Niffty softly, setting her down on the floor. "Okayyyyyy lets change the subject alright. I have a brand new idea for all of us to try, now if you will all follow me." You were grateful to Charlie that she was trying to stir the whole topic to something else. Angel appeared apologetic, patting your head, mouthing an apology, before he got up, walking over to join Charlie and the others. You, however, weren't in the mood to join them, deciding it be better to just go to your room. As you got up and walked away, you didn't notice the crimson glowing eyes watching you, as you began to head up to your room.

***Your Bedroom***

Heaving a sigh, you carried yourself over to the bed, flopping on to it, face hitting the soft pillow. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself, wanting to hide from the world. The whole lobby situation was still playing in your mind, making you groan. Hand reaching for your other pillow, you placed it against you, hugging it tightly. You decided it be better to just sleep off what just happened, placing your face further into the pillow you were hugging, closing your eyes. A soft tapping sensation was hitting your head, but you chose to ignore it. The sensation continued, which caused you to open your eyes. Moving the cover, your eyes peaked out to see Alastor, sitting on your bed, smiling down at you. "Ahh, she finally reveals herself! Hello, my dear!" He said with astounding enthusiasm, making you groan more. "Leave me alone Alastor please." The cover returned to your head, blocking your face from Alastor again. "Now now, don't hide yourself away from me. I merely wanted to spark up a conversation with you." His clawed hand gripped at your cover, pulling it away from you, revealing yourself to him again.

Debating whether to grab the sheet again, you chose not to, unless you wanted to anger him. Slowly getting up, you looked at Al, wearing an annoyed expression. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?" Widening his smile, Alastor leaned on his side on the bed, hand placed against his cheek, "From what the effeminate spider yelled out in the lobby, you have never been kissed before, correct?" Your eyes widen at him. Seriously? He was bringing this up again?! Heaving a sigh, you nodded your head, cheeks becoming aflamed. The embarrassment radiating off of you, brought massive satisfaction to him, his smile stretching to the point it could break his face. "I don't indulge in topics of conversation like this, but this one had peaked my curiosity. So enlighten me, my dear, why haven't you kissed anyone?"

"He's messing with me", was your first thought when he asked you this, but reading his expression more closely, you realized he was being serious with his question. Turning away, hands fiddling together, you tried to answer him, "I don't have a clear answer for that. I guess what Niffty said is kinda true. Waiting for the right person...I guess." Silence filled the air after you gave your answer, only thing you could hear was the soft sounds of static from Al. "You were expecting the classic fairytale, finding your one true love kiss, I presume? His tone mocked you, making you a bit angry that he was finding amusement in this. "Yeah that's exactly it, now that I have answered your question, can you please leave me alone?" Grabbing the cover that Alastor had pulled away from you, covering your body and face, you fell on your side to the bed, facing away from him.

Static chuckling came from next to you, as you stayed under the covers, refusing to come out. "If it's something you desire, I will be willing to grant it." He spoke so calmly like he didn't just say the most shocking thing ever. Popping your head out of the cover, you craned your neck towards him, giving him an "Are you serious" look. "Yeah right. You're just joking with me." Laughing at what he said, you turned away, resuming to stay inside your blanket. A rush of wind could be heard next to you, and before you knew it, Alastor was inside the cover with you, body hovering above you, hands placed on the sides of the bed "Who's joking?" He spoke, no hint of static in his voice, as his crimson eyes gazed down at you, lips in a smirk. Jumping at his position being on top of you, your mouth became unable to form words. Was he serious? He wanted to kiss you? "Is it okay if I ask why?" You spoke softly at him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Alastor appeared a bit put off by your question, for he himself, was a bit befuddled as to why he wanted to kiss you. His eyes gazed up, thinking hard about it. "I've roamed hell for many years, having no interest in acts of affection or romance. Many suitors often came my way, but I broke their hearts, or ate them HAHAHAHA!" His eyes flashed into dials for a second as his head went back from his uproar of laughter. Eyes continued to stare at him as he slowly calmed down from his laughing fit, face taking on a more serious tone, despite the smile still remaining on his face, “However! There were times I wondered what it would be like to take part in acts like this." The radio filter left his voice, as gloved fingers gripped your chin, thumb tracing your bottom lip, softly.

Your face was probably was red as his hair right now, as your brain was still trying to process what he was saying. Your eyes continued to stare up at Al, who continued to smile, eyes filled with softness, for once. "Is...are you comfortable doing this?" You quietly asked, palms feeling sweaty from how nervous you were. His head tilted with a crack, once again, confused by your question. "I'm worried that doing this is overstepping your boundaries. What if I am a bad kisser or have bad breath, what if I-" A boisterous laugh erupted from Al, shaking the bed, as the both of you were still covered in the tent-like blanket. "My sweet darling, there is no need to worry about trivial things like that. As for my boundaries, I am the one that is initiating this, so once again, no need to worry."

His wide smile had dropped into a gentle one, fingers still caressing your lip, before moving to your cheek. You bit your lips a bit, before opening them slowly, "Okay." Ears twitched at your answer, crimson eyes filled with a hint of desire plus hesitance, as he bent down a bit, face coming closer to yours. The beating of your heart was so loud, you could hear it in your ears, and you were certain Al could hear it too. The scent of his cologne was making you dizzy- mixed with hints of blood and graveyard dirt. Reflections were seen in both of your eyes, him seeing himself and you seeing yourself. His lips continued to move closer, inch by inch, until they were placed onto yours, soft almost like a butterfly had landed on it.

The glow from his eyes had vanished, closing them as he pushed a bit further into the kiss, making you gasp a bit. A few minutes has passed, as Alastor slowly pulled away, glowing eyes returning to admire you. You felt breathless, despite how tender the kiss was, it had you weak. “Did you enjoy it?” He asked, his lips distracting you, making you forget his question. “Huh? Um..yes…it…was…nice. How about you?” You ask as if out of breath, heart fluttering still. “Surprisingly pleasing.” He said matter-of-factly, but judging from his appearance, he looked more disheveled than you.

No one uttered a word after that, the both of you continuing to stare at each other. “May I do it again?” He whispered, causing goosebumps to form all over you. You nodded, answering his question. His lips returned again, this time with more passion. The gasp you let out allowed his tongue to enter, intensifying the kiss. The weight of his body was on you now, his chest against yours, feeling his racing heart. His teeth bit your lip slightly, drawing some blood, making him hum at the taste as his tongue continued to intertwine with yours. Moaning into the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his back, pulling him closer. The both of you broke the kiss, string of saliva appearing from both of your mouths. Heavy breaths could be heard, as glazed eyes stared down at you, ashen cheeks flushed. "Again." was said from him, lips returning back to you again, and again and again.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

, @aconstructofamind @angiiiiiiiiie

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful , @alaskathestereodemoness , @fries11 ,

@toneystank-3000. , @doll-babe-a-tron-queenthousand

, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog , @twistedvanillacoffee

[pige0ns]

i love how much the current season of severance is characterized by interpenetration. the first season was cold and isolated. severed. the innies and the outies were separate, and the leaks between them mostly only ominous hints. a tissue in mark's pocket. a dream of black goo. a blue band aid. an orange book. a recording from the break room. of course a reintegrated petey could not survive in season 1. in a severed world, it is the person trying to become whole who is the doomed, ill-suited freak. willing lobotomy should be grotesque, but when it is sanitized by corporate and scientific aesthetics, it can seem like the civilized thing, and anti-lobotomy that is grotesque. anti-lobotomy that is homeless, unshaven, and dripping blood.

this is why the we we are is so successful as a conclusion to season 1. it is a shocking violation of the boundary that existed all season. it is not just an ominous hint, but a total, almost violent obtrusion. as transgressive as the act of cutting, but in the opposite direction. and it makes the violence of the original cutting more salient in retrospect. (it's in the name, too--"we" instead of "you"; a coming together instead of a separation)

and now, in season 2, in the aftermath of that boundary violation, the boundaries start breaking down even further. helena on the severed floor. mark's reintegration visions. gemma being herself, even deep inside lumon's bowels. milchick visiting their houses. gretchen visiting dylan. mark in the birthing cabin. the innies outside at the ortbo. burt and irving being influenced by their innie connection. mark and helena meeting in the restaurant. the literal sex and romance and infidelity, involving not just innies or outies, but innies and outies. representatives of the inside and outside physically, bodily, commingling.

and it's against this backdrop that the characters in season 2 have begun to confront the boundaries within themselves. they've begun to ask how different and how separate they really are. do innies and outies have different souls? is infidelity with yourself really infidelity? it's almost cliche at this point, but really: does love transcend severance? clear narrative roles of hero and villain are decaying. former antagonists like milchick and cobel are now something murkier. meanwhile helly and helena, once seemingly so distinct, have increasingly revealed their commonalities. both trapped, both drawn to mark, repeating lines like "she's not your wife." the emphasis on helena this season is key. helly and helena embody self-division, given their initially divergent characters, goals, and narrative roles--one a hero, the other a villain. so for their differences to erode, for helena to get closer to the screentime that helly got last season, signals that this is a story in which self-division itself is growing suspect, unstable, untenable.

and then there's mark's reintegration. if of course petey couldn't survive reintegration in season 1, then of course mark can't complete his reintegration in season 2. season 2 is not a story of completion, it is a story of transition. it is messy, ambiguous, ambivalent adolescence. mark might want his innie's memories, but he has given no indication that he wants or identifies with his innie's self. as protagonist and deuteragonist, mark and helly are natural foils, and mark's forced and unsuccessful reintegration process is in contrast with helena's unexpected inching towards "natural reintegration", to use britt lower's phrase. in "attila" we see helena with her hair and manners loose, however awkwardly, playing at aspects of helly in a way that mark scout, as of "the after hours" (when this is written), would not consider doing with mark s. metaphorically, mark cannot yet reintegrate because his halves are not aligned. but they're not separate any more either. they're overlapping. they're at odds. but what will make them align? i assume that is what the finale and next season are for.

[derangedthoughtssideblog]

"Inside was a colourless lotion that smelled of mist and moss. On the bottom, Ronan's handwriting labelled it merely: manibus.

For your hands." (Blue Lily Lily Blue page 130)

[...]

"He climbed back into his bed and closed his eyes, hands balled to his chest, scented with mist and with moss." (Blue Lily Lily Blue page 260)

??? EXCUSE ME

insane these two are just INSANE

[selfryed]

back on my hesitant alien au grind... the waylien brothers seeing snowww for the first timeee !!

bonus:

[roseupfromthdead]

It has been seventeen years since The Black Parade was sent to the MOAT. In that time, a great Dictator has risen to power, bringing about "THE CONCRETE AGE”; a glorious time of stability and abundance in the history of DRAAG. His Grand Immortal Dictator wishes to celebrate our rich and storied culture, fine foods, and musical entertainments by welcoming you to these great demonstrations of power and resolve. And lending voice and song for the first time in six thousand two hundred and forty six days, their work privilege ceremoniously reinstated, will be His Grand Immortal Dictator's National Band... The Black Parade.

[aventurineswife]

Mammon with a reader who seems to be oblivious to his feelings for them, but they are more actually like "naaah, he can't actually like me that way" and does their best to treat Mammon well without looking like they're leading him on, without bringing up the obvious as to not make things awkward between them and essentially ruin the friendship.

One day during another mandatory mammon-crashing-over-mcs-room-for-company-and-chat, when he brings up the topic of love, reader just shrugs their shoulders and go "dunno how romantic love feels like. Dont think ill ever feel it". Because while they are a bit of a hopeless romantic, they just resigned from the idea because they werent shown much love growing up, so the idea that someone would actually love them seems very foreign. And they are also scared that they wouldn't be able to reciprocate for someone (in this case mammon)

(hope i explained well, just take your time with it. I just wanted something for the favorite tsundere 😭🙏

-Smooch Anon 💋

“What is Love?”

Summary: You and Mammon share a quiet late-night moment together in your room, each engaged in your own tasks but enjoying the familiar comfort of each other's presence. When Mammon unexpectedly brings up the topic of love, you admit that you don’t really know what true love feels like, prompting him to reassure you that you’re worth much more than you believe. Beneath his usual cocky exterior, Mammon shows a rare, vulnerable side, leaving you questioning the feelings between you and him, and whether his words hint at something deeper.

Tags: Mammon x Reader, Fluff, Light Angst, Comfort, Vulnerability, Emotional Conversation, Established Bond, Self-Worth, Hints of Romance.

Warnings: Brief mention of insecurity and self-doubt, Slight angst (You express uncertainty about love and self-worth), Mild language.

A/N: OMGGG I DIDN'T KNEW YOU WERE INTO OBEY ME?!! 🤭 AND YES MAMMON THE BEST BOY AND FAVOURITE CHARACTER!! 👏💛 Do you think him and Aventurine would get along? 👁️👁️ I feel like Aventurine would make fun of him for being in debts lmaoo

The night was quiet, the only sounds in the room being the occasional shuffle of paper as you worked on your assignments. The ever-familiar figure of Mammon lounged on the bed next to you, one leg hanging off the edge as he balanced his phone in one hand and absently flipped through some random channels on the TV with the other. It was a usual late-night hangout, a kind of unspoken routine the two of you had fallen into since you’d started living together in the Devildom.

As usual, Mammon was being his typical self—loud, boastful, and a little self-centered. But you had learned to tolerate his eccentricities. In fact, over time, you found yourself getting used to his antics. He wasn’t so bad once you looked past the arrogance and pride.

“Oi, you hear that new song from the radio today? It’s fire, I swear!” Mammon’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up from your work to find him looking at you expectantly, as if waiting for your approval.

“Yeah? Sounds cool.” you replied, trying not to sound too disinterested. Mammon’s eyes sparkled at your response, though you could tell it wasn’t the enthusiastic reaction he was hoping for.

“Cool, huh?” He chuckled, leaning back with a smug grin. “I knew you’d appreciate my impeccable taste.”

You just rolled your eyes, your attention returning to your papers. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

Mammon let out a dramatic sigh and flopped back against the bed with exaggerated flair. "I swear, you never give me the credit I deserve." he muttered, though it was clear he wasn’t seriously upset. Mammon had always been dramatic like that, using over-the-top complaints to mask the fact that he enjoyed having your attention, even if it was in a teasing way.

After a brief silence, Mammon suddenly sat up, his usual cocky demeanor turning serious. You didn’t notice it at first, too caught up in your own thoughts, but the tone of his voice seemed to shift.

"You ever think about love, MC?" Mammon’s voice was quieter now, and his gaze drifted toward the window, as if the question had just popped into his head. "Like, real love. Not just the stuff you see in movies, but… the kind that lasts, y’know?"

You paused, the question catching you off guard. You weren't sure where he was going with this, but you didn’t want to make things awkward by immediately dismissing him.

"Love?" You muttered, not looking up from your work. "I dunno… can't say I’ve thought much about it."

You tried to sound nonchalant, but inside, your heart did a little skip. You had always been a bit of a hopeless romantic, dreaming about love stories that were too perfect to be real. But reality always crushed those dreams, leaving you to dismiss the idea that anyone could actually love you in that way. Especially not Mammon. He was the Avatar of Greed, after all. He loved money, power, and himself far more than anything else.

Mammon didn’t seem to let your answer dissuade him. Instead, he leaned forward, a faint frown on his face. "Come on, MC. You don’t ever wonder what it’d be like to be loved by someone? Like… really loved, you know?"

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but your voice wavered slightly. "Honestly, I don’t really know what that feels like. I mean, I never had much of it growing up. So… the whole idea just seems kinda foreign to me." You paused, hoping Mammon wouldn’t press you further. "I don’t think I’ll ever feel it. Not like that."

Mammon blinked, clearly surprised by your words. For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips slightly parted, like he was trying to process what you’d said. He had always been confident, always eager to show off, but in this moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes—something rare, something deep.

You quickly tried to change the subject, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were. "I mean, love’s just… it’s not something I really need to focus on right now, y’know?" You forced a small smile, but you could feel the heaviness in your chest. "I’m just trying to get through each day."

Mammon leaned back, resting his arms behind his head, but you could tell that your words had struck a chord. He was quiet for a long moment, and you began to wonder if you had said the wrong thing.

"Well, I think you deserve it," Mammon finally spoke up, his voice softer than usual. "You deserve someone who’ll love you. You’re a lot more than you think you are, MC. Way more."

His words hit you harder than you expected. You froze, unsure of how to respond. Mammon, the one who prided himself on being the best was saying this to you? The person who thought he could never see them in that way?

You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mammon, don’t say stuff like that. You’re just being nice." You didn’t meet his gaze, afraid that the look in his eyes might give away something you weren’t ready to face.

"I’m not just being nice," he retorted, his voice quiet but insistent. "I’m serious. You don’t get it, do you?"

You forced a nervous laugh, trying to keep the mood light. "It’s not that I don’t get it. I just…" You trailed off, not sure how to continue without making things more complicated than they already were.

But Mammon was quiet now, too, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he sighed and stretched out, as if trying to shrug off the tension. "Whatever. I just think you’re a lot more special than you let on. So don’t go sellin’ yourself short, okay?"

You looked over at him, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite understand. "Okay, Mammon. Thanks."

Mammon smiled, a little smug, but there was something warm behind it. "No problem, MC. I’m always here to remind ya how awesome you are."

You both fell into a comfortable silence after that, the awkwardness of the conversation ebbing away as Mammon eventually started talking about something else—probably some scheme he had cooked up to get rich, you guessed. But even as he rambled on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more behind his words. More than just Mammon, the greedy and selfish demon.

But you had no idea what to do with that feeling.

In the end, you just let it go, hoping it was a one-time thing. After all, demons people like Mammon didn’t really fall for people like you, did they?

[hunny-pp]

NO. ?? - DIAOCHAN (romance of the three kingdoms) Particulars: Prone to hysteria, deep-seated rage, [???], Confused About Self

We screen our Sinners to the best of our abilities to accommodate to your primary mission as the Executive Manager. However this Sinner has proven to be quite elusive in our analysis. On the surface, this Sinner is level-headed, charming and talented in skills that require physical and dexterous proficiency. However she finds herself constantly confused about her own being for reasons we have yet to identify, so do not be alarmed if she asks you off-putting inquiries. Please beware of her tendency to extreme anger and violence, as it will prove impossible to resolve without intervention through tranquilization or even execution.

[WARNING]: Any tasks or assignments that pertain to her physical appearance or seduction will risk in violent outbursts.

---

By all accounts, a charming young woman who is reliable and capable of any tasks especially combat. The main thing to consider about her is she says strange comments about her own identity, and may be caught in freudian slips such as "I could have reached that in my original height...", "She's laying dormant for now..." and "Huh, so my marksmanship remained even in this body..."

She has a state of almost berserker like rage, and is proven to be difficult to break out of, with Diaochan stating after such incidents that "she's calm now. Sorry about that."

While known for her dancing talents from her previous reputation, she is physically unable to perform, her body freezing up until she relents. She also cannot deliver statements that could be seen as flirtatious without her mouth physically sealing itself.

(this is my girlie i love her, if you figure out the whole twist abt her i'll give you a cookie)

[hitlikehammers]

unforeseen complications 🩸 steve/kas!eddie

“What’s wrong?” Steve doesn’t try to sit up again, knowing Eddie wants, more like needs to press against Steve like this because…they’d pushed the boundaries. Eddie had needed more blood than normal, because they’d skipped out on more than one quick snack-time. And Steve does feel the hit harder for it. It’s not a foreign feeling, though: the aftermath, beyond what his own body needs to recover— “We can’t keep doing this, Steve.”

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, kas!eddie, established relationship, angst with a happy ending, as in: eddie angsts about his new vampiric tendencies while steve has none of it, true love, blood drinking (just a little), terrified eddie (that he did steve any possible damage), long-suffering steve (who knows it’s all completely fucking FINE and also they’re dumb in love forever)♥️

for @steddielovemonth day eight: "I'll take care of you." "It's rotten work." "Not to me. Not if it's you." —Euripides

Steve is groggy, his head’s a little fuzzy and unevenly weighted in that way he can already tell will make him dizzy when he opens his eyes and tries to lift it—so he doesn’t, not just yet—but normally he sleeps this part off. Normally the side effects aren’t as sharp as this is already shaping up to be, because his body keeps him blissful conked out long enough where it’s all a little more of a dull roar that he can ignore while he gets through the day and slides slow back to normal.

And it’s not like it gets this intense that often; it’s in extenuating circumstances. Sometimes one’s they create for themselves, sure, but usually it’s some world-threatening shitfuckery that pushes the limits this bad. Like…at least eight times out of ten.

At least.

So it’s weird that he’s waking up before he’s due to shake off the worst of it, when said worst-of-it is still clinging to his skin, his eyeballs, the linings of his veins.

He tries to make sense of what he can feel through the fog: weight, mostly. Something heavy that’s not just his own body rebelling against regaining consciousness too soon. There’s…something on top of him.

Heavy.

Shaking.

There’s a sound, maybe, like…breathing but that’s shaky too and—

Oh.

Oh no, it’s not just shaky.

The weight on top of him’s fucking crying, and trying real hard not to be found out for it.

Steve would goddamn know what that sounds like, specifically. From a whole-ass lifetime of experience in his godforsaken family.

And Steve knows what his own fucking boyfriendsounds like in distress, so—

“Eds,” Steve doesn’t even have to push to open his eyes and sit up too fast because there no dizziness, no nausea he can’t work through when Eddie in need is on the other side of it; “what’s wrong, what happened, I—”

The hand on his chest is firm but awkward, because Eddie is still splayed over his chest, doesn’t seem to have any intention of moving at all.

“Lay back down,” Eddie’s voice is muffled in Steve’s skin; “save your strength, you’re still,” and yeah…muffled, but too rough, cracked down the middle; “you’re…”

More than cracked, fuck. Shattering.

“What’s wrong?” Steve doesn’t try to sit up again, knowing Eddie wants, more like needs to press against Steve like this because…they’d pushed the boundaries. Eddie had needed more blood than normal, because they’d skipped out on more than one quick snack-time. And Steve does feel the hit harder for it. It’s not a foreign feeling.

And the aftermath, beyond what his own body needs to recover—

“We can’t keep doing this, Steve.”

—is also not unexpected. Pretty fucking routine now. Steve’s even practiced enough to swallow down the urge to sigh.

Because, considering that Eddie is skin-to-skin, blanketed on top of Steve under about seven blankets, more than Steve even knew they owned as he shudders through something suspiciously close to sobbing while the tone of the words screamheartbreak: Steve would have every right to be concerned when it sounded a whole hell of a lot like his boyfriend was trying to break up with him.

The first time was a fucking doozy, sure. Second time even, that sucked too.

Now though, with it being fairly fucking routine for…close to a year, now, especially after rough runs like last night?

Steve’s kinda learned to take it as the sign of affection he’s come to understand it stems from, deep in Eddie’s too-soft, too-tender chest, always having been ready to feel so fucking much—Steve wishes he’d known it sooner. Maybe they could have felt less alone, together.

Whatever. They’re here now.

Though it’d been a pretty free-and-clear couple of months—Eddie had only crumbled so far as to have shaken in a corner in Steve’s arms for close to probably five hours one of the three or so times they’d had to stretch too much time between regular feedings—because when Eddie came back, when he appeared in Steve’s living room dripping the black sludge the Upside Down seemed to specialize in best—trembling and stammering and…be-fanged.

And Steve had just looked at him, gaped a couple minutes—which he stands by being wholly fair and justified—and then did the only genuinely sane thing he could have done, given the givens.

He’d pushed Eddie toward the nearest fucking bathroom, under some hot water, and cleaned him the fuck up.

And didn’t think—yet—about how warm it made Steve: the sight of Eddie’s naked frame under the spray as it slowly siphoned off the goo.

Nope. Not the time.

He was sick, though, that was clear, but Steve…he can’t explain even now how he knew to be cautious in letting anyone in the Party know that they’re friend, this singular lost member of their family had somehow crawled back to the land of the living. Because yeah, it could have been the fact that Eddie was cool to the touch. Paler than he’d been before. Barely had a heartbeat but was definitely alive enough to insist he was pressed into Steve’s heat every night, in Steve’s bed; to keep shaking, to wretch more of the black slime up until it was just dry heaving, and…

There were plenty of reason to have caused the hesitance. But it wasn’t any of that.

It wasn’t even how, after Steve slit himself on an envelope, Eddie had scurried to his side, made to lunge then cowered back, cried like he was in pain before saying the first words Steve had gotten out of him yet:

Please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry Stevie, please—

And Steve wasn’t immune to what spending every fucking night wrapped up in another body. A definitely not unattractive body. A body belonging to a personality that Steve was getting pretty interested in getting to know better—literally and…intimately, y’know, Steve crossed the bridge of being totally shocked by that after he’d less-than-half-mourned Billy fucking Hargrove for the sake of his and and literally no other reason—but. Yeah.

He’d have given Eddie anything, at that points while he was hoarding and harboring him, safe as much as selfish in this house. He’d have—

What Eddie wanted was the blood from his papercut. And…well.

The fangs make…wel, they made a lot more sense all of a sudden.

Eddie fought it when Steve dragged him to the couch and offered his wrist because the guy was sucking kinda pitifully, like, way too desperate on Steve’s fingertip and not in a sexy way—and Steve would actually really like to reach the point of it being a sexy way someday, specifically with Eddie, he’d already stopped trying to deny that to himself—so he pulled his hand away, cupped Eddie’s cheek (warmer, more color in it), brushed by accident against his jugular (a real pulse, and racing, but overtaxed, like it needed…more to work with and yeah, if Steve hadn’t made up his mind already that would’ve done the job, flat out)—and when Eddie whimpered, Steve pushed his advantage of having a full blood supply, dragged Eddie into his lap, tore his own bloody strips from above the veins he could see under the heel of his palm straight down and Eddie gasped, cried out, tried to scramble away—

But Steve shoved his wrist to Eddie’s lips—knew it was maybe dirty pool but…he wasn’t stupid. If Eddie needed blood, he…he needed blood.

And Eddie was reluctant, at first, didn’t try to pull away once he realized that Steve had got him in a pretty solid hold from the waist down, and he just was not strong enough right now, not yet but he could be, if he’d just—

Steve hadn’t been worried, but if there’d been reservations, like, if Robin had had any idea he was doing this and voiced her innumerable concerns: if Steve have been worried, Eddie’s presence of mind to even think to resist, to look at Steve like he was in pain to avoid the blood waiting on offer, specifically for him, it’s all he would need.

But seeing that Steve hadn’t even thought to be worried, he ultimately caught Eddie’s frantic eyes, leaned in and brushed his lips to Eddie’s, tasted his own blood as he whispered:

It’s for you, I want you to have it so that you’re okay, and his hand had braced on Eddie’s chest where that heartbeat was struggling, but wild, and he didn’t even dare to blink until Eddie’s tongue lapped accidental at the blood steaming down.

And the rest is…history.

Eddie had tried to set his own limits, but Steve’s old hat at being the victim of the Upside Down’s bullshit, or Russian spy craft at that; he knows when the blood loss is actually a concern. He keeps his hand to eddie chest, makes his own call when that pulse is strong enough to ease his wrist away.

Steve hadn’t been a fucking lifeguard, after all. He does know some things.

And so that had been…that.

They’d told the others, eventually, but just that Eddie was back. It was enough to prove Steve’s fears in and of itself—they already suspected Vecna, Eddie as a sleeper agent or some shit, two guns trained on him in an instant: and that’s without the blood…thing.

So they keep that to themselves. It’s definitely a contributing factor to how they end up in dire enough straits that Steve’s laid up a little after just some casual bloodsucking until eddies heartbeat finds its strength of rhythm again.

It’s not a big deal. Steve’s had so many migraines worse than this ever is.

Except for when it gets to how Eddie reacts. How he falls apart for fear, for Steve.

That’s the worst pain Steve’s ever known, every goddamn time.

“You were cold,” Eddie’s voice shivers as he raps into Steve’s chest hair; “to me, you were cold to me.”

“You’d just fed, and you were hurting for it,” Steve reasons; it takes Eddie time to warm back up when they spread the feeding out too long. “You’re still not evened-out,” he reasons; Dustin would have a good science-y name for it, but they…they can’t risk it.

Steve won’t fucking risk it. Risk Eddie.

He cranes his neck, keeps his eyes closed to make sure he doesn’t aggravate the feeling of being off-balance, but he needs to press his lips to Eddie’s temple, test the heat.

“Close though,” Steve smiles into the skin, then kisses with intent. He…he loves that he can give this to Eddie. He doesn’t think Eddie gets that part, thinks Eddie only sees it as taking, rather than a gift for Steve in return just as strong.

“Steve,” Eddie moans, shakes his head as more a messy swirl of matted curls; “we can’t.”

Again: it stopped being convincing months ago; but Eddie does sound particularly distressed.

Steve brings a hand to run through that unruly hair, careful. Gentle.

“You weren’t moving,” Eddie finally whispers; “I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear,” and Steve knows his limits, knows that Eddie didn’t hear or see even with his enhanced senses now because he’d been frantic, and his own heartbeat and shot quick to pounding after being so weak—it always sets him off kilter for a second or two.

Steve cradles Eddie to his chest rig he re, so he can hear clear the heartbeat Steve knows is steady now, strong.

They’ve both evened out. They’re both okay.

“I can’t risk you,” Eddie breathes into the space where the beat hits hardest; “I can’t lose you.”

“So,” Steve nods, tucks Eddie under his chin a little tighter; “losing me by design instead is your solution,” he sucks his teeth, hums as if he’s actually consider such fucking nonsense:

“Yeah, cool, makes sense.”

He thinks the sarcasm drips just the right amount.

“Stevie,” Eddie whines, like it hurts, and Steve never wants that. But he might…need for it to, a little at least, to get the point across.

“We’ve been through this, Eds,” Steve breathes low; “I’m not actually looking to kick the fucking bucket here,” he knows Eddie won’t appreciate the levity but he can’t help it, pressed the curve of his lips to eddies scalp. “I’m much more interested in making sure you’re not ell enough and strong enough and safe enough,” and he reaches, then, to lift Eddie chin, to turn him, to look, to see:

“To stay with me.”

And like clockwork, Eddie’s eyes widen, darken, narrow and Eddie scrambles up, takes Steve’s face in both his open palms:

“Always,” he hisses; “nothing could make me want to be anywhere else, not ever.”

And Steve knows it. Knows he means it

“But Steve—”

And because Steve knows? He’s happy to cut this the fuck off at the stem, nip it in the bud, press a the same fingertip eddies sucked the blood from so many nights ago, that first time that started the rest of Steve’s whole goddamn life—

Steve’s more than happy to press that fingertip to Eddie’s lips, to shut him the fuck yo when he needs it.

“I grew up not knowing what love was,” Steve says simply, and eddies eyes flash red—only when he’s incensed do they do that, and Steve not-so-secretly finds it hot as fuck. “Except for knowing that what I got wasn’t it,” he shrugs; “or else, not the kind it was supposed to be. Benign neglect,” he flinches a little as other, harsher memories buck their heads and he knows he has to say something because Eddie sees him, Eddie will draw it out himself otherwise and…

“Until the times it wasn’t,” Steve murmurs and, well.

At least he gets another sexy-as-fuck flash of crimson in those eyes he adores.

“But I knew what I did have wasn’t right,” Steve’s quick to press on; “so even though I kinda started from zero on the learning curve, it wasn’t,” he bites his lip and it’s not even weird anymore, to revisit the journey even if it started less-than-happily.

Because Steve knows the ending. And how it’s not even an ending at all.

“I knew I was looking for something that sat at the opposite end of the spectrum from what I did know. What I had been taught,” and he grabs for eddies hands and gathers them under his chin to rest on, to just…look his fill of this impossible man he’s fallen for, that he’s more than happily given his life to all the ways he knows how.

“And once I unlearned the bad shit, and started finding the real deal?”

He waits for Eddie’s eyes to glitter just so, waits for his head to tilts just the tiniest bit before he leans up:

“Love is this,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s lips with real fucking meaning:

“Love is exactly this.”

“Nearly fucking dying because your freak-ass boyfriend has to drink your goddamn blood and—” Eddie tries to deflect but is pretty fucking shirt with it. Not least because there are tears running down his cheek. Not least because Steve knows now. What love is.

He’d just spoken on the truth.

“Not even close to fucking dying at all,” Steve reminds him with a playful eye roll and a squeeze of his hand; “save maybe how much it killed me when I thought I’d lost you before we had a chance,” and honestly: Steve hates thinking about how all of this was almost never know, never had, never felt.

Yeah: that fucking kills him, just to think.

“So add that into the love-column,” Steve grins a little, imagining the upgraded version of a ‘YOU RULE’ board; “this is love because you’re breathing,” and Steve kisses the little divot above Eddie’s top lip; “you’re safe,” and then he kisses, nibble Eddie’s neck;“your heart beats when there’s enough blood for it to move around,” and Steve’s not strong enough to resist nipping at the heady pulse between Eddie’s collarbones.

“You’re as alive as anything or anyone in every way that could ever count,” Steve breathes; “you’re here. With me.”

Then he leans back again, looks Eddie in the eyes:

“You care enough—”

“Love.”

Eddie’s tone is this sharp, unquestionable thing. It’s thrilling every time it comes out.

All the more, said around that one word.

“I love,” Eddie’s hands hold closer, more dear at the sides of Steve’s face again; “whether it’s enough or not, whether it ever could be, I fucking love you—”

“Then you love,” Steve picks back up, pecks Eddie’s lips because he can; “enough to check that I’m okay, when we do this, and it’s just a little more of a challenge than normal.”

Eddie looks like he’s about to choke on something.

“Challenge?”

Ah. About to choke on that word specifically; that tracks.

“I like a good challenge,” Steve reminds him, reaches to pinch his cheek, delights in how blood—Steve’s blood—rushes to the surface; “fills the gap from all the sports-playing.”

Eddie’s mouth moves around silent words for a few seconds and then:

“Normal?”

Steve doesn’t even try not to laugh. With glee, even. With wonder.

“Wild, ain’t it,” he asks, kinda fucking joyful; “who’d have ever thought Steve Harrington would find a love this big,” and he runs his hand over Eddie’s arm, shoulder to wrist; “this perfect, for everything he is, not what he’s gotta twist himself in knots to try and become,” and Steve’s voice gets lower, more earnest, more genuinely fucking grateful for…all of it.

For his Eddie.

“Who would have thought Steve Harrington would fall into a love that held his whole fucking heart in its hands,” he brings those hands to his chest, where they clutch automatic; “to do with what you would, to take as far as you liked,” and his voice goes low—they don’t know what’s been done to Eddie beyond the obvious, what life and death mean for him;

“To keep as long as you decided to want.”

Basically, Steve isn’t too concerned about the whats. He’s more concerned about Eddie having no shred of doubt, that Steve wants whatever it means, to be something they share. He wants whatever it means to mean the same for both of them, if it can. However it can.

Whatever it takes.

“Steve,” Eddie shakes his head, face ruddy, tear-strewn and mouth agape.

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, then breathes in, sharp and shaking; “and you deserve so much more than this.”

“Let me make the decision,” Steve says, sure in it. Maybe for the first time in his life, he has no doubts for anything involving what he feels for Eddie, and the truth of what Eddie feels for him.

“And since I made that decision fucking months ago already, I’ll save you the suspense,” he turns Eddie’s chin on the tip of a finger, one more time.

“There is no more than this.”

And Eddie blinks; blinks.

And then his strings are cut, and he collapses full into Steve again, this time gathering him in by every limb he can tangle, gasping and grasping and needing and desperate and kissing every inch of Steve he can reach.

“Fuck, I love you baby,” Eddie moans deep from the center in his chest: “forever.”

It’s a true thing. It’s a promise.

It’s an acknowledgement of what they don’t yet know, but can agree with all they are to share, together, equal.

For always.

“I know,” Steve tells him simply, pulse pumping only joy; “and I am always gonna know. I’m always gonna be here, to make sure you never forget.”

And Eddie’s face falls for half-a-second, before it steels with resolve, before his hands lace with Steve’s and smack them flat to Eddie’s heaving chest.

To Eddie’s pounding heart.

“Never forget here,” he vow sir; “it’s never a matter of not loving.”

And Eddie’s scared, still, in his eyes; Steve knows.

It almost means more, that he’s promising it all, nonetheless. With his whole goddamn heart.

“I know,” Steve reminds him the best way he knows; pressing closer, tighter to that beat.

“And I’m always gonna be right here.”

Eddie nods, closes his eyes and holds Steve one breath closer to that pumping blood:

“Right here.”

And that?

And that suits Steve more than fucking fine.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here

[nehezt]

things have been looking better for me lately so i came back to traces of spring. only 5 more chapters apply lighting to! yay!

[lady-dulcinea]

Lucy meets Van Helsing

from the Milwaukee Ballet's production of Michael Pink's Dracula Luz San Miguel as Lucy Westenra Patrick Howell as Abraham Van Helsing

[heretherebedork]

Tic Tic Boom. The best sex therapist in all the land who is crushingly still single come on.

[okanra]

_____________________

Aaand that’s the last comic of 2023!

This short comic acts as both the epilogue of “Her Resolution, His Origin” ongoing comic aka chapter 5 of “The UNSPOKEN” Dragon Ball very heavily based webcomic, and the prologue of the future chapter 6, which will be Trunks focused. More information will be posted later, and I realized there’re so many pre-production works that I haven’t updated here, they’ll probably be posted later too.

The giant holiday gift batch is currently being posted during the holidays in here, some of them will be shared online after they’re all finished. It’s a lot of content, tbh.

All in all, happy holidays to you! 🎉