#i cant write anymore lol

[spideystevie]

sweet nothing

summary: five glimpses of sweet nothings

word count: 3.6k

a/n: based off sweet nothing from midnights. something about this song man. it’s not edited (boo) but i hope you guys like it <3

1. tiny as a firefly.

There’s a lingering bite of winter in the morning air. You can’t remember Steve’s windows being opened last night but then again, you hadn’t been paying much attention to that. The bed grows cold without him lying next to you warming you up like the burning embers of a fire. 

A small breeze flutters the curtains. The air smells sweet, fresh like morning dew though it drives a shiver down the length of your spine. Steve’s old t-shirt’s done little to warm you up from the moment you put it on to brush your teeth this morning. You nestle yourself into the covers on his bed that still smell like him and now a hint of you intermingled. It elicits a small sound of bliss. 

The tap runs in the bathroom while Steve brushes his teeth. You hold a bundle of sheets close to you as you shift up towards the headboard. A tiny bit of heat creeps up your neck to your cheeks at the maze of clothes haphazardly left around his bedroom floor. 

Your gaze falls onto his bedside table and a disbelief crosses your eyes. It’s nothing major, something that would seem otherwise insignificant to prying eyes. A small pebble from the quarry, something he’d shoved into the pocket of his jeans on your first date. 

The water stops running and there’s a small clatter as he puts his toothbrush away. You lean across to prod at the gray stone, picking it up into your awaiting palm. 

“You still have this?” you call out. Steve pokes his head out of the bathroom, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes soften into little pools of love when he sees you bundled in his sheets, slivers of bare skin showing from his shirt hanging off your shoulder and a tiny pebble in your palm. 

“‘Course I do,” he says like it should’ve been obvious. You look up at him as he walks back to his bed, pajama pants he’d thrown on this morning sitting low on his hips. You smile up at him, scooting over so he can crawl back into bed with you. 

The bed immediately feels warmer as you curl back into his side. He plucks the pebble out of your palm and rolls it between the pads of his thumb and index finger. 

“Told you I was gonna keep it forever,” he says softly, looking at you somehow even softer. You can feel your heart melt down into liquid gold. He presses a kiss to your temple, nose buried into your hair. Steve puts the pebble back onto his side table, next to a framed photo of the two of you on your birthday.

He turns back and all but tackles you back into a reclined position in his bed, a shriek like laugh escaping you. “Steve!”

Steve’s upper body lays across yours, his forearms framing the sides of your head and holding him up above you. He’s grinning through the smattering of kisses he’s placing all along the length of your neck and every plane of your face. Your fingers fumble for purchase on his cheeks, pausing his sporadic kisses to pull his lips down to yours. It’s gentle and tender like the morning, a sweet press of his smile against yours.

2. on the way home. 

“When does your class get out?”

There’s a slight beat of silence while you finish your mouthful of cereal. A clink of metal spoons against ceramic bowls from his parent’s kitchen cabinets while you rack through your memory for the correct time. 

“3:30,” you swivel towards him on your barstool, socked foot nudging against his calf. “Why?”

“So I know when to pick you up, silly,” his smile is boyish, crooked at the corners. You shake your head, smiling despite it. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into your mouth. Steve hooks a foot around the leg of your stool and pulls it closer to his. His arm goes around your waist to steady you, hand slipping beneath your shirt to rest against the skin there. He’s eating left handed now, milk drips onto the counter from his spoon. 

“‘Course I do,” he says over a half-chewed bite of honey nut cheerios. He swallows, sets the spoon in the bowl, looks at you. “What else am I supposed to do as your boyfriend besides drive you around?”

You pretend to think, humming to really sell it. He shakes his head at you with a slight laugh. 

“I dunno,” you settle, looking at the last few pieces of cereal floating in the bowl. You feel a little shy, sparing a glance at him with a sheepish smile. Steve thinks you’re heaven sent. “Tell me you love me, for one thing.” You keep going, gesturing with your hands. “Hold my bag when my shoulder gets tired, loan me your clothes, kiss m-”

And he does. Kiss you. Right in the middle of your teasing ramble. Your bottom lip curved between his. It’s simple, sweet, leaves you with warm cheeks and a racing heart like it’s the first time all over again. 

It takes restraint not to run out the classroom doors when your professor ends the lecture. You know what’s waiting for you outside the doors to the building. A pretty boy leaning up against a flash of maroon, sporting a proud grin reserved for you. 

Just as you imagined, he’s there at the front of the parking lot. His sunglasses perch on his nose and he’s leaning his back against the passenger side of his car. You light up like stars in a night sky when you see him, feeling an almost magnetic pull to him. 

Steve slides his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head, a few wavy tendrils slipping onto his forehead while you walk up to the car, breaking into a jog when it’s close enough. His arms open at his sides, ready for you to slip into them, molding yourself back into one celestial being. 

Your arms go around his shoulders, his around your waist best he can with your backpack on. Hugging Steve always feels like it’s own way of coming home, something reaffirming and sure as the sun rising and setting. You settle onto your feet, arms sliding down until your hands rest over his chest. 

“Missed you,” Steve says. His smile is all kinds of charming and sweet like honey. Your lips twitch into a smile. 

“It’s only been like three hours,” a slight giggle coats your words as you squint up at him, the sun sitting just over his shoulder.

“I know, tell me about it,” he almost groans, dipping down to kiss your smile with his. It warms you more than the sun in the sky, leaves you feeling like you could burst at the seams. It’s innocent for the parking lot but you pull away first, eager to not cause a scene. 

Steve opens your door for you and holds your hand on the way home. He’s an eager listener when he asks about your day and you’re more than willing to spare any and every detail. You angle yourself towards him, one knee pulled up onto your seat, your joined hands settling on your thigh. 

“Totally aced that quiz from last week by the way,” you say, not even downplaying your brag. Steve grins.

“Of course you did, with the mind that you have,” he presses a kiss to your hand, waits until the next red light to kiss your proper. It happens all the time, the little spouts of praise when you do well, when you do just about anything. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of how it makes you feel sticky inside with love. 

3. in the kitchen humming. 

The wall is a crutch, holding up your sleep fatigued body. His back is to you, long stretches of muscle beneath bare skin. Freckles dot his skin, constellations you love to trace at night. The smile that stretches your lips and lifts your cheeks is fuzzy with sleep, dripping with love.

For a moment, you let this be life. Steve cooking you breakfast in his pajamas, the coffee brewing aromatic and slowly waking you up. A glimpse of normalcy, a life near into the future with your own carpeted floors and no otherworldly threats. Something muddles your heart in your chest at the thought until it’s nothing but a mess of Steve and love and everything good he brings out in you. 

He’s humming to himself as he alternates between pans, the muscles in his arms and back flexing and shifting beneath his skin as he does. You don’t think he hears you cross the kitchen to him, his socks on your feet quieting your footsteps on the tile. 

Your fingertips brush against his sides, a butterfly kiss hello to let him know you’re there. His humming morphs more into sounds of delight than a song as your arms wrap around his bare torso, your forehead pressing just below the line of his shoulders. The skin between his shoulder blades is warm, your lips pressing a lingering kiss against a freckle that makes its home there. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” his voice still has a twist of the morning in it, the edges of his words rugged. You squish your cheek against his back, your smile smushed but clear and evident in your response.

“Morning, loverboy.”

“You were supposed to be in bed,” he says. The implication of breakfast in bed is there and it leaves you soft on the edges. You feel like you’re morphing into a languid flow of burning admiration for the boy you’re wrapped around. He can feel you rub your nose across his skin, your chin settling at his right shoulder. You try to catch his eye, though you know it’s unlikely from your position. 

“Got too cold without you,” your lips pucker into a pout, one he’d kiss without a second thought had he been able to see it. You can feel the laugh rumble in his body, lighthearted, almost apologetic. He doesn’t say anything, just continues to cook breakfast, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. 

You don’t let go of him once, just step and move with him like you’re one beating vessel. The lingering sleep makes you feel needy, lips dragging against freckles, soft from the fatigue. When the burners are turned off, your stomach rumbles almost immediately after. It makes a laugh bubble out of Steve. 

The two of you eat at the kitchen table this time instead of the stools at the kitchen counter. Your chairs are nearly pressed together and Steve lets you drape your legs over his lap. His free hand dances over your legs, callused palm a warm comfort against your skin. Your hand sits in your lap while you eat, Steve’s giving your fingers a squeeze every now and then. 

You set your fork down, bringing your hand to the back of his head. His hair is soft between your fingers as you scratch at his scalp. It’s quiet while you eat, a specific kind of comforting silence that comes with time, with knowing each other as well as you do. 

Both of your smiles are a little slow from the weekend drowsiness. Steve’s features are muffled around the edges, soft and a little lovestruck as he looks at you. Your hair’s a little messy from sleep still, the sweater of his you wear bunched up at the tops of your thighs. You’ve never looked prettier and he can’t help himself. 

He presses his lips to yours in a syrupy sweet kiss, your lips both a little sticky from breakfast. You can’t find it in yourselves to care.

4. too soft for all of it.

Steve Harrington is good. The springtime sun personified. 

You’ve known Steve long enough to know he shoulders more than he needs to, gives his all until the well is depleted. You’ve only ever known him to be selfless, brave. And you love him for all of it, but you worry about him more than anything.

His parents had come home, nothing Steve didn’t think he couldn’t handle. Until their usual one week pitstop in the big house became two, became three. It was going on an entire month, the longest they’d stayed since he was in high school and it was weighing him down.

They had insisted on having you over for dinner before they left town, making a point of saying how eager they were to “meet the person who’d be bold enough to stick around.” He tries not to dwell on his father’s comment when he makes an excuse on your behalf. A part of him wants the relief of having you there but the other part of him doesn’t want you exposed to this. 

He wants to keep you tucked inside his pocket like a hidden treasure. Keep the good and the bad parts of his life as separate from each other as he can. 

He calls you that night after they leave to catch a redeye flight to Boston, his voice almost begging you to come over. You don’t hesitate.

There’s an obvious tension radiating off of Steve’s house as you walk up to the front door. Your knuckles rap against the wood and when no one answers you worry you might’ve knocked too soft. As you lift your fist to knock again, the door swings open, and there stands Steve. 

Off the bat you can tell it’s not the Steve you’re used to. 

There’s a heaviness on Steve’s shoulders, visible at least to you, dragging him down like he’s shouldering the entirety of the world. His steps drag, eyes downturned and lips slanted into a frown. When he smiles at you it doesn’t make his eyelids kiss, doesn’t have the usual sparkle and shine. 

You’re fretting over him the minute you step into his orbit. A hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping over the skin. Steve doesn’t know how to tell you that he feels infinitely more at home now that you’re here. You don’t have to ask what’s wrong. 

There’s an unspoken communication between you as you look at each other, drinking in the other like you hadn’t seen each other for an extremely elapsed time.

His house feels cold, empty despite the two extra bodies that had been occupying the space previously. None of it feels like home. You’re desperate to change that.

You push him towards the couch, sitting him down. He wraps a hand around your wrist before you can drift into the kitchen.

“Can we just sit?” he asks. Your features soften, body deflating as you nod. You tuck yourself into the corner of the sofa, motioning for him to lay his head across your lap. Your fingers immediately tuck themselves into his hair when he does. 

He closes his eyes, lets himself come back to himself. For a moment nothing else matters but your fingers in his hair. There’s no outsiders pushing and shoving, no lingering memory of his parents. It’s just you and him and his parent’s overpriced couch. 

You give him the time to relax, breathe now that he can call his house a home again. There’s a simplicity to the love you share, a peace that you can share, a dependable comfort that you can give and take. Steve feels overwhelmed in every sense of the word.

“M’glad you came,” he says, his eyes still closed. He misses your soft smile. You give a gentle tug at his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. 

“You needed me,” you state simply. You watch the Adam's apple in his throat bob as he swallows. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Was just the same thing all over again. He just kept going on and on about how I should be doing more,” a pinch forms between his eyebrows. “I feel like I should be used to it at this point, you know? But it’s so hard.”

Your fingers twist and twirl pieces of his hair, careful to be gentle.

“Can I tell you something?” his voice sounds so small when he asks. You nod before you realize he can’t see it. 

“Course you can,” you keep your voice soft.

“Sometimes I believe him. My dad. When he says those things…I don’t know, sometimes it just feels like maybe he’s right.” 

“Steve,” you frown. There’s a pause of silence only to be broken by a sniffle from Steve that he tries to disguise by pinching at his nose with his thumb and forefinger, like he can snuff out the impending tears. Your fingers pause as a tear slips past his eyelids and slides down towards his ear. “Oh, honey.”

You pull at his shoulders, awkwardly rearranging your limbs until his head is on your shoulder, face pressed into your neck. His tears are warm against your skin and leave wet splotches on the collar of your shirt. You don’t mind, running a soothing hand through his hair and up and down his spine. 

It’s not often that Steve cries, at least in front of you. Always so determined to be the strong one, the tough exterior that let things bounce off of him. Everything has to crack sometimes. On the rare accounts, it’s a private confession that only you’re privy to. That despite it all, Steve’s too soft for all of it sometimes.

“He’s wrong, you know?” you say when his tears have started to wane. He sniffles, nods against your shoulder. His hair tickles your neck. “Sometimes Steve, I think you should be doing less.”

He laughs, it’s wet and a little hoarse from his crying. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Steve you do so much and bend so far sometimes I think you’re going to snap. And I love that you care so much but I wish you’d give yourself the same amount of care and grace that you give to everyone else.”

You nudge his head, prompting him to lift it up to look at you. You wipe away the leftover wet from tears with your thumbs, keeping your hands gentle yet firm against his cheeks.

“I love you,” he says before you can say anything else. He hopes you know how deeply he means it. Hopes you know how much it means to him that you love him because he’s him, not for anything else. You kiss your response into his forehead, willing it to sink through his skin into his brain.

5. running home to your sweet nothings.

Friday seemed to last a week, the hours stretching apart like taffy and the minutes moving along like molasses. The prospect of the weekend was just out of reach, a mirage off the horizon. 

You’d had a morning class and work right after, Steve working at the same time which meant he didn’t get to drive you. The last you’d seen of each other was a blurry rush that morning as you danced around each other, pressing a quick goodbye closer to your chin than your mouth before getting out the door. 

It wasn’t clear if it was the day actually being long or being apart from one another that made time seem to shift along as slowly as it could. You wanted nothing more than to be within the four walls of his parent’s house, a place you’d found a way to make home with them gone. 

Steve’s car is in the driveway when you pull up outside. There’s a clatter in the kitchen, a telling sound of Steve getting ready to make dinner for the two of you. You’re toeing off your shoes, body feeling heavy with exhaustion when he comes into view. 

“Honey, you’re home,” he grins, quick to gather you up in your arms. You relax into him, arms wrapped around his middle. He laughs a little at the way your body sinks against him. “Tired?”

“Very,” you all but groan. “Missed you. Was too long.”

You’re not as coherent, sentences clipped but the sentiment is there. Steve presses a kiss to the top of your head, his nose smushed into your hair. It smells like his shampoo.

“Was gonna make us dinner, pretty thing. Does that sound good?” he loosens his hold on you for a moment to look at you. You hold him tighter against you, inhaling him in while you drag your head against his chest until your chin sits against it. He smiles down at you, a hand moving to smooth out your hair. “There y’are.”

Your smile is lovesick and blurred with fatigue around the edges. “Can’t we just lie down? Skip dinner?”

Your grumbling stomach corrupts any option of skipping dinner. Steve laughs and you can feel it vibrate through his chest. He stoops to kiss you, pliant and soft. 

“We can lay in bed the rest of the night after dinner, yeah? The whole weekend even,” he says, lips close enough to yours that they brush against yours when he talks. “That sound good?”

You nod, kissing him again.

He stays true to his word, doesn’t even bother with the dishes after dinner. Instead, he ushers you up to his bedroom. The two of you are in your own little trance as you get ready for bed, soft sleepy giggles filling the spaces between you. 

You teeter on the edge of sleep almost immediately when you get into bed, Steve’s hushed sweet nothings against your ear lulling you into sleep. Steve thinks he could burst with how much he loves you, with the knowledge that you love him just the same as you stitch yourself against him in your sleep. 

Love flowed steady between you, simple and serene. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[cerberus-writes]

CARNIFICARE. —— A SHORT VN.

a stranger tells you a story about a monster.

&&. GAMEPLAY.

carnificare is coded in twine and playable in browsers. it is a text-centric story with visual novel elements — mostly because it was originally made for a vn game jam. it's a very short story, somewhere between 7-8k words long, and features art done by yours truly. please heed the content warnings. you can play it now on itch.io.

&&. RELEASE: V1 — PLAYABLE NOW ON ITCH.IO

[blueparadis]

will anyone would be interested in reading kaori nanaseko x asuka tanaka fic ?

[realbeefman]

i'm a cis woman, but in the past few years i've developed a habit of headcanoning any male character i relate to as a trans women, beginning a fic trying to explore that, and then miserably falling short as i can never figure out how to end the story. i've recently joined a new fandom and started my most recent attempt at writing this ever-elusive character interpretation i've been trying to explain for years. and it occurs to me that maybe the reason i keep trying to interpret these characters i relate to as women and failing to, is because i'm trying to project the wrong experience. because i think that conclusion i can never fully bring myself to write isn't one about coming to terms with womanhood and embracing that identity, but about coming to terms with being a man.

so tldr im a trans man and this is a coming out post.

[calicotisane]

Chapter 2 Page 15

[willowser]

i have to say that i love yuuji itadori with all my heart and under better circumstances i would be soooooooo incredibly insane for him. but alas.

[alienseason]

Sometimes I fantasize where some freak for some reason is making a retrospecive on the hlvrai Fandom back then and they interview me and I have to explain how at 14 I was asked by some 27 year old to find out who had been sending her death threats by infiltrating a server led by someone who thought that, since they only knew hlvrai, googled how old alyx half life was and got her age from half life alyx (in hla she is around 18?? And in hl2 around her early 20s) and started spreading that freemance was pedophilia and got nearly all the kids into hlvrai to belive two adults in a decades old video game was disgusting and anyone who liked the ship should be crucified- and then angering adult half life fans to where they turned on hlvrai and started hating it because of "all the kids trespassing onto their territory" and causing a mini flame war until we found out who was sending the death threats and they came out to everyone and deleted their social medias and THEN the baby blender happened and i was getting dms every hour asking if I supported baby blending.

[lover-of-mine]

I am BEGGING YOU give pining Buck that doesn't realize that the only reason Eddie is dating Marisol is because Eddie thinks he will never have Buck. Give me Buck not realizing he accidentally rejected Eddie. Please.

[3416]

are you normal or do you wake up every day and think about this

[fallowtail]

fighting for my life to try and get back into the groove of commenting on fics instead of just leaving kudos like a loser but the depression adhd brainfog is so severe i'm barely managing to read the fics in the first place. aughh god i am such a bad friend/supporter

[motherforthefamicom]

redownloaded an old art program

[kitkatpancakestack]

Just marked my interior designer!Eddie series as complete i can't believe my boy is done with his Target adventures RIP fr

[tragicotps]

Young Masriel AU in which Asriel x Marisa secretly meet at the Oxford botanic garden to make out.

[mofsblog]

Tfgraves is one of those ships that, on a very surface level, looks very domestic and kinda fluffy like haha bickering cowboy pirate gay people who are in love but also stupid haha, AND THEN YOU READ THEIR ACTUAL LORE AND BACKSTORY AND ITS JUST

Don't get me wrong, I love them, and they are surprisingly pretty functional despite everything that happened, but if I start thinking too hard about their "divorce era" (it's not technically a divorce era if they weren't technically dating but i dont care, being divorced is based on vibes/hj), I get a little insane about it

[answrs]

okay! have a possible thought on Ingo & Eelektross falling together. specifically if you go with lost memory identity shenanigans for them both:

-

Ingo looks at eelektross and knows that its trainer is blunt. quiet. to the point. smiling. so why isn't he the way he remembers him being?

eelektross looks at Ingo and knows his partner is graceful. beautiful. outwardly calm but with a roiling, angry power hidden under soft chimes. so why does it not feel anything like that?

they don't remember enough to realize they're mismatched, only the vague impressions of what their fellow faller's partner is supposed to be like. (important thing i need to clarify: no, eelektross doesn't think it's a ghostly light fixture. it knows it’s an eelektross but remembers certain personal qualities of Ingo's ace and thinks that's supposed to be them. ingo doesn’t think he’s emmet, he just knows eelektross’s trainer didn’t act like he’s behaving now, like he ought to.)

so they try to act like they "should" as the other's companion but keep failing miserably. Ingo tries to smile, to be quiet, offer only brutal honesty. the facade fails quickly and often but he tries to do it for his friend, give it stability in this unknown world. eelektross forces itself to keep still, tamp down its curiosity to investigate shiny rocks and strange pokemon, not squirm and tangle and cover Ingo in wet sucker kisses when it's excited or happy or worried. it wants to give ingo whatever comfort it can through being the partner it remembers of him, with both of them lost as they are.

and their attempts make the other confused and upset, not matching the person/pokemon in their minds. but each take it as they must not be trying hard enough and need to act better. so the other one can be happy they have their Normal partner back.

and the thing is, it’s not like they’re unfamiliar with battling with each other! the subway bosses’ teams were really just one big group that mixed and matched on the regular - they’re extremely proficient at reading each other’s commands and strategizing on the fly while staying in sync, just like a normal trainer and their partner. so rather than clue them in it just makes things more confusing whenever there’s doubts that come up in the “I should act like this” schtick. if he’s not its trainer, if it’s not his ace, how else could they possibly know each other so well, be so practiced at fighting together?

-

this was supposed to be a funny thing about eelektross using flamethrower instead of any other sparky worm moves and then whoops i made them both total messes because Of Course I Did. 🙃

(also yes. emmet and chandelure are Very confused when they rip arceus a new one and stomp their way through spacetime to a very oddly acting duo.)

[edns]

I have no edgy or whimsical caption for this one I am just sobbing on the floor. Woe