#tw: almost getting outed

[schrijverr]

Life Is Ours, We Live It Our Way 6

Chapter 6 out of 18

Genderqueer Stevie with platonic soulmates Robin and Eddie living their best queer life.

In this chapter, after celebrating Halloween, the horror movies creep into Stevie’s nightmares. When they get too much he drives to Eddie’s house in a panic. She snaps about her name and comes out, Eddie and Robin accepting him. Meanwhile, the kids have figured out the fake dating and Will, who found support in Stevie feels betrayed. It all comes to a head at their weekly DnD game.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: Nightmare, panic attack, the misgendering that comes of not being out, unintentional biphobia, unintentionally nearly getting outed

~~~~~~~~~

Halloween

Halloween falls on a Friday, which means they are celebrating instead of playing DnD. Everyone in Hawkins is gathering at the Byers house to eat too much candy and watch scary movies.

They have agreed to dress up, because the kids love it and they’re all sad that they’re getting too old to go trick or treating. The only one who still can is Erica, but she thinks herself too cool for it, so she isn’t going.

Stevie isn’t going to do anything drastic, but it’s a good excuse to ask Robin to do his makeup and he’s not going to let that pass.

The three of them have told the kids they’re going as characters from The Breakfast Club, but what they haven’t told them is that they’re going as the opposite of who they stereotypically are. Robin is going as Clair Standish the princess, Eddie is going as Andrew Clarke the jock, while Stevie scored himself John Bender the criminal. A part of him wanted to go as Allison Reynolds the freak, but that would require too much conversation.

Still, Robin managed to get her hands on some of Nancy’s clothes and thrifted some, while Stevie raided Eddie’s closet and Eddie hers. And indeed, Robin did his eyeliner, which feels very nice and validating even if no one knows.

All in all, she’d say that they look pretty good.

When they turn up, they’re greeted by Hopper, which isn’t unusual since he has moved in with Joyce as had been a long time coming. He’s in his uniform, not very creative, however, it is very Hopper.

Then Joyce greets them, dressed in a striped prisoner costume and Hopper’s ‘costume’ makes a little more sense. She waves them in with a big grin, laughing at the costume choices.

The costumes are also a hit by the kids, who all laugh at Eddie in something other than his usual attire with Dustin exclaiming that he can’t believe Eddie would betray the nerds like that. Stevie also gets attention, with Erica noting how he basically switched styles with Eddie, which isn’t really incorrect. Max comments on Robin: “I still can only see very shittily, but even to me that’s just wrong.”

It’s a fun night even if the kids get way too hyper on sugar and practically bounce around.

At some point, Stevie needs to get away from the movies for a bit. He has already seen this one and she needs to rest her eyes to prevent a headache. So, he does the dishes, finding peace in the repetitive motions.

In a similar manner to last week, Will comes up next to him and grabs a towel to dry. Stevie knows that Will wants to talk about it again, but he leaves the pace up to the kid. She of all people understands needing to take some time.

“I- I’m gay,” Will says softly after a few minutes.

“Thank you for trusting me with that. I’m so proud of you,” Stevie smiles, stopping with washing the dishes to hug the baby Byers.

Will melts into her arms and she sways them gently. After a second, Stevie says: “That isn’t an easy thing to say, but I’m glad you told me. If you ever need anything, you can come to me, alright. And if you ever do want to tell people, I’ve got your back.”

As a reply, Will clutches closer and takes a shudder-y breath. Then he softly admits: “I want to tell my mom, but I don’t know what she’ll say.”

A stab of pain goes through Stevie’s heart at the words. Joyce is the best woman, the best mother, he knows. If he had a mom like her, he’d likely anguish about it too. And the worst part is that Stevie also doesn’t know what Joyce Byers thinks of queer people. The not knowing makes it so much worse that she’s so nice, because it will only hurt more if she’s terrible about it.

“That is very scary,” Stevie agrees, searching for words to make it better, but being a bit at a loss, since his only similar experience was with the kids. “Do you want my advice?”

“Yes, please,” Will says, not letting go.

Stevie dries her hands, so she can hold Will better as she says: “I think it’s good to put a feeler out first. Mention a queer celebrity, like Bowie, Boy George or Elton John, see how she feels about them. Make sure it can’t become personal. You want to be able deny it. And I know that sucks and I have faith that your mom will be so nice about it, but we’ve got to be safe.”

“I hate this,” Will mutters.

“God, me too,” Stevie sighs. “It’s the worst part about the whole thing, but trust me. You won’t be alone. We stick together. I’m looking out for you now. If you need support or help or just a listening but non-judgmental ear, I’m here for you.” He echoes Madame Tucker, his example in how to deal with all of this.

She can feel her shirt becoming a bit wet where Will is resting his head, but she doesn’t mention it and just holds him close.

“You’re the best. Thank you so much, Steve,” Will says fiercely.

Stevie just smiles and ignores the name – he’s used to that now. He replies: “It’s not a problem, Will, I promise.”

They stand there a little longer, before Will lets go. He wipes his eyes, but doesn’t acknowledge it, so they wordlessly go back to doing the dishes.

By the time, they’re done, the group is picking another movie. It always gets loud, so they hear the racket and share a look, before making their way back into the fray. When they appear in the doorway, Eddie immediately exclaims: “Stevie! Come, I need you to have my back.”

“What do I get out of it?” she asks as she comes closer, planning to retake her spot in front of the love seat, leaning against Robin and Eddie, who are squashed together on it.

“My undying gratitude?” Eddie offers.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Stevie pretends to consider it. “What am I backing you up on?”

“You’ve got to tell these idiots that The Labyrinth is a cinematic masterpiece,” Eddie tells him, sending him a look that says ‘we both know Bowie is hot, don’t leave me hanging here.’

“Give me a better bribe and I’m right there,” Stevie replies with a grin, ignoring the protests from the kids.

“Hell yeah, Stevie,” Eddie exclaims, pulling Stevie onto his and Robin’s lap, as he says: “A throne for your cooperation, princess?”

Stevie feels his own cheeks burning as he feels the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. She’s aware the kids semi-know she isn’t straight and this looks a certain type of way. And it’s a certain type of way he’s trying to avoid feeling.

Yet, he can’t ignore how nice it is to be close to Robin and Eddie. They’re her people and she loves them and sitting in their laps is much better than the cold floor. So, she leans into it, dramatically swooning as she exclaims: “Oh my, a strong jock is sweeping me off my feet, how can I refuse?”

“I hate that you just called me a jock, even under these circumstances, but I shall take the support!” Eddie grins, situating Stevie better before saying: “Babysitter’s on my side, we’re watching The Labyrinth next.”

All the kids start to protest, voices lapping over each other, until Joyce cuts in and rightfully points out that Stevie hasn’t picked a movie all night and if he supports Eddie, then they’re watching the movie.

Stevie notes that she hasn’t said anything about how Stevie was pulled into Eddie’s lap by the man and is now comfortably lounging against him, legs thrown over Robin’s.

Once the movie starts, he looks to meet Will’s gaze and gives him a grin and a thumbs up with a nod to Joyce. It wasn’t intentional, but if it helps it helps and by the look he gets back, it helps. So, he can’t be mad about it.

By the time the movie ends, all the kids have fallen asleep on top of each other, making Stevie wonder why they even wanted to pick so badly.

Eddie, Robin and her help Joyce with the clean up, before softly saying their goodbyes. They bring Eddie home first, before Stevie drives Robin to her house, letting her excited mom take a picture of their ‘couple costume’ something that had been unintentional, but works out well. Telling her some lie about a party they’d been to and how neither of them had drank, which was true.

At home, she removes the makeup with a smile, before falling into bed, exhausted after the fun night.

However, his brain has decided to be a dick. He hadn’t been scared of any of the movies, but it seems his brain has taken the imagery and decided to revamp all his nightmares with the new pieces it has collected.

This pattern continues on for the rest of the week. By the time Thursday rolls around, she’s gotten maybe ten hours of sleep total that week and is running on fumes, glad she has Friday off this week due to picking up a shift for someone earlier.

Robin has been sending him glances all week and he knows he looks like shit. She hasn’t had the energy to style her hair, making it more noticeable how much it has grown, as she keeps blowing it out the way. Not to mention the concealer he used for his eye bags.

“I know,” he says as she comes in. “I’ve been sleeping a bit rough. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, I have tomorrow off and I’m going to rest, okay. Naps, all goddamn day.”

“Okay,” she replies, giving Stevie a smile that speaks much louder than anything she could say about how happy she is with the reassurance.

After those weeks when he was struggling, it seems everyone has gotten more worried whenever he’s a bit out of it. On one hand it’s nice that they care, but on the other, Stevie doesn’t really know how to handle the fact that they care. Still, he thinks he’s getting there. Maybe. If he’s lucky, she doesn’t have to be and can just rest Friday and be okay again and not worry them more.

But it’s not meant to be.

Stevie can’t catch a break and his restful night to start of his weekend is more terrible than any before it.

She shoots up in bed in cold sweat and heavy breaths, scream dying in his throat. In her minds eye she can still see Eddie die, feel how the life drained out from underneath her hands. He knows he needs to see him. Now.

Before he’s even aware of it, she’s out of bed, uncaring about the fact that she’s in tiny shorts and a big shirt and it’s November. He stumbles out of the house and into his car, driving on autopilot to the Munson bungalow.

If it gets truly bad, he usually goes to Robin after nightmares, but she also has parents who think they’re dating, so maybe showing up in the middle of the night isn’t the best idea.

And that’s how he finds herself on Eddie’s doorstep, desperately ringing the bell at 3:00 AM, feeling like she can kneel over any moment. She isn’t sure whether it will be from anxiety or exhaustion.

The door flies open and Eddie stands there in full sleep mused glory, holding lamp as weapon, which he drops when he sees Stevie standing there, shaking. Blinking the last bit of sleep out of his eyes, he asks in a soft voice: “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

Afterwards, Stevie isn’t sure what aspect of the question broke him, but he lunges forwards and buries her face in Eddie neck, heaving a deep relieved breath, before bursting into tears. She just needs to make sure he’s warm, alive and breathing. The release of seeing him alright and well is enough to break him after the horrid week he’s had.

Eddie is probably even more confused, likely also concerned, but he just holds Stevie close and whispers assurances in her hair.

The two of them must make quite a pair as they stand on the Munson doorstep.

They could have stood there for hours or only minutes and Stevie wouldn’t have known. But at some point Eddie deems it long enough and leads him further inside, softly saying: “You’ll freeze out there, Stevie. What were you thinking in those clothes?”

He leads them to the couch and pulls Stevie closely next to him, so that she can rest her ear over his heart while he hugs her tightly with one arm. His other arm is used to pull a blanket over them so that they can warm up.

Stevie is hardly aware of any of it. All she can focus on is Eddie being alive, trying to tell herself that her dreams aren’t real. Everyone is okay. He’s okay. They’re all fine.

She only becomes aware that Eddie must have been unsuccessfully trying to get his attention for a while when he hears him say: “Just hurry, Robbie. He seems really out of it,” before there’s a click of the phone.

“Wha?” he asks, blinking.

“There you are, sweetheart. Hi,” Eddie practically coos, trying to keep his voice soothing so that he’ll stay and pay attention. “Focus on me. Yeah, that’s good, like that. You’re okay, Stevie. We’re all okay. It was just a dream.”

“You’re okay?” he asks to check anyway, because it just seemed so real and she’s so scared right now and she feels so very small.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Eddie assures him. “I’m right here. You’re doing so well. Just stay here with me, Stevie.”

And Stevie truly tries, but he’s just so exhausted and Eddie is comfortable, warm and real. So, it’s really a loosing battle. Her blinks become heavier and heavier and he hates to see Eddie look so panicked, so she offers an apology before blinking out again.

When he wakes up again, it’s with a terror of something he can’t remember amplified by waking up alone when he hadn’t gone to sleep like that and a sound in the hallway. He shoots into an upright position, hands ready to fight as he wildly looks around.

He meets Robin’s terrified eyes with her own, Eddie right behind her. It catches up to Stevie that she’s had another nightmare and that Eddie has apparently called Robin here.

Any fight she had left, drains out of her and she falls to her knees. He’s been through much already this night and his heart is still trying to beat out of his chest. She hates how she woke both Eddie and Robin with her own bullshit, that he couldn’t even deal with this on his own.

Tears start to fall and she heaves deep breaths that do nothing to supply air. Around him, he can hear her friends move, but it all feels like it’s far away.

A hand grabs his own and he startles, meeting Robin’s eyes again as she puts it on her own chest and starts to breath. She tells him: “Come on, breathe with me. Follow my lead. Please. I need you to breathe, Steve.”

She rarely calls her Steve and somehow she can’t handle it on top of everything right now. So, he snaps: “Don’t- Don’t call me th- that. I ha- hate it,” before choking on another breath.

“That’s okay, we won’t, sweetheart,” Eddie assures her, rubbing her back. “It’s no problem. Right now you just need to focus on breathing. In, yeah like that, that’s good. And out. Slowly. And in again.” He demonstrates. “And out. There you go. Doing so well, princess.”

Slowly Stevie starts to come back to herself. His breathing becomes more regular and easier and with it, exhaustion sets in once more, along with the guilt. He whispers: “’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, dingus,” Robin tells him.

“Yeah, you scared us, but I’m so glad you came to me. I hate to think about you dealing with this on your own,” Eddie backs her up, still cradling Stevie to his side. “You did so good, I promise. Don’t be sorry.”

Like it has done all evening, the comforting praise settles into Stevie’s chest and calms her. He’s still exhausted, but he doesn’t feel as much anxiety anymore.

Still, he is so tired of being on edge, of being afraid to go to sleep, of being slow in his brain and movement, of feeling that bone deep drag of exhaustion. And she can’t help but whimper: “I’m just so, so tired,” in a broken voice.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs sympathetically. “I know. You’ve been so strong and you shouldn’t have to be. You need the rest. Lets get you to bed, promise me and Robbie won’t leave you, okay? We’ll be there all night and you can check that we’re okay whenever you want. How does that sound, sweetheart?”

“Good,” he sniffles.

He’s feeling absolutely pathetic, but unable to stop it. She’s too exhausted to do anything but follow Eddie’s soothing voice as he leads her to bed and holds her closely to his chest like he’d done in the motel. Robin is on his other side, never letting go of his hand.

When she falls asleep, she’s curled into a little ball, clutching Robin’s hand and burrowing as much into Eddie as he can.

Waking up for the third time is very different. It’s much slower and without terror for the first time that week. She’s surrounded by warmth and feels peaceful for a moment, before she realizes what that warmth is and how he got there.

She freezes, loosing whatever calm she had. He doesn’t open his eyes, only screwing them close as she curls further into a ball. Stevie isn’t ready to face the day.

However, that’s not for him to decide, because both Eddie and Robin are already awake and notice how she froze up and hid. Robin squeezes the hand she’s still holding, while Eddie whispers into the ear he’s still cuddled up behind: “Hey there, sweetheart. We won’t bite, promise. Can you open your eyes?”

Last night’s tears have turned crusty in her eyes, so he has to blink a few times, before she can properly open them.

Mentally she tries to convince herself that it won’t be that bad. Eddie and Robin were cool in the motel when he broke down and they were glad he showed up last night, now all he has to do is find an explanation for how she snapped about her name in the middle of a panic attack.

With his eyes open, she meets Robin’s, who smiles kindly at him and asks: “Sleep well, dingus? You know after everything. I mean, I know you didn’t sleep the best overall, but you didn’t wake up again after, but that doesn’t have to mean anything, you know? So, just checking.”

Her rambles are a welcome comfort and he smiles: “Yeah, I slept well. Sorry for bothering both of you.”

“Oi, don’t be a dumbass, Stevie,” Eddie scolds, still very much pressed up behind her. “We said we were glad you showed up instead of trying to deal by yourself and we meant it. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

Stevie tries to curl into herself to get away from the nice words, blushing as he hides. “I know,” she softly says, “but I can’t help it. I know you two don’t always sleep the best either and I don’t wanna be the one messing it up when you do manage to sleep.”

“Dingus,” Robin sighs, giving his hand a squeeze that he returns.

“I’m sorry,” she says and Eddie and Robin groan, making him wince.

“No, you’re not allowed to be sorry,” Eddie tells her, sitting up and nearly making her whine at the loss of the heat behind him. “It’s against the rules now. I’m going to make us breakfast and you are going to enjoy it and not feel guilty about it. We all sleep better together. It wasn’t a hardship, okay, Stevie?”

“Okay,” she gives in, not really feeling like making more of a fuss. One good night’s rest doesn’t solve a week of exhaustion and he’s still on edge about the name thing that both of them have yet to mention.

Eddie shoves a sweater in her face, telling him: “You’ll catch a cold otherwise, I don’t know how you didn’t freeze on your way over here.”

“Thanks,” he says as he slips it on, not commenting on what Eddie said.

Robin follows Eddie down the stairs in her own stolen sweater, while Stevie cleans up in the bathroom. She looks a mess, but not too much. However, without the concealer it will be even more noticeable in the morning light.

He softly pads down the hall aware of the fact that Wayne must have come home at some point and is now sleeping.

In the kitchen, Eddie is playing his music on a low level, equally aware of that fact, as he dances along and makes eggs, one of the few things he can make. Robin is making coffee, because she can’t make anything else at all. For a moment Stevie just watches them, wondering how she got so lucky with his friends.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, all still waking up and enjoying the silence.

“Do either of you have work today?” Stevie asks after a moment, remembering that it’s Friday and he just got lucky to not have to work. She doesn’t want to be the reason Eddie or Robin get shit form their bosses.

“I got an afternoon shift,” Robin shrugs.

“I also got today off, I try to plan Friday as a free day whenever I can to dot the last i’s on the campaign and stuff,” Eddie explains. “Doesn’t always work out, but it’s nice when it does.”

“That’s good,” Stevie smiles, before realizing that he is now the one that broke the peaceful silence, practically giving the others an invitation to start questioning him.

“You told me yesterday you’ve been sleeping a bit rough. How long has this been happening?” Robin asks.

Okay, that’s a question she can answer. Might be a bit embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the breakdown yesterday. “This past week,” she admits. “Turns out I don’t do horror movies that well anymore, which sucks.”

“Jikes,” Robin winces in sympathy.

“Why didn’t you say anything, sweetheart?” Eddie asks then. “We could have done something before it got this bad.”

“I’m stupid,” Stevie throws his hands up. “Is that what you want to hear? I’m an idiot, who let it get bad and now I ruined everyone’s night. Happy now?” She already feels terrible about what happened, she doesn’t need a lecture about how stupid he’d been, he already knows.

“No, I’m not happy,” Eddie says, crossing his arms and frowning. “Why would I be happy with that answer, Steve-ie, Stevie?”

Great, not only is Eddie disappointed in him now, but they definitely remember the name thing, not to mention that Eddie wanted to use his- his normal name? Old name? Eddie never uses Steve. So, he’s double disappointed, because Stevie keeps messing up.

Both Eddie and Robin are looking at her now and she wants to disappear. He makes a helpless movement and says: “I don’t know.”

Immediately their faces soften and Stevie isn’t sure if that’s a good thing, until Eddie sighs: “That’s okay, Stevie. We’re not happy with you thinking you’re stupid, because you’re not. You’re not, sweetheart, and I hate it when you trash talk yourself.”

“Oh,” Stevie says. A part of her knows that her friends don’t think the things his father always tells her. But it’s still new to hear people say he’s not stupid, even if they don’t really think it, it can be a bit of a joke among their friends. Though Stevie has noticed Eddie and Robin haven’t been making it recently.

It’s a nice revelation.

“God, Stevie, you’re making it really hard to be disappointed at your self-care skills when you pull that cute face,” Eddie smiles.

“What?” Stevie squeaks, feeling how she blushes. Eddie can just say those things and it messes with him, because he probably doesn’t even notice he does it, but he says those things and they’re so validating. Stevie wants to be cute. And according to Eddie he is and that’s nice.

“There you do again,” Eddie groans. “Come on, Robbie, back me up.”

“You do look a bit like a puppy,” Robin agrees. “But more like a kicked puppy. Like, you are surprised by the fact that someone was nice and it’s a bit heartbreaking and also kind of makes me want to squeeze your face.”

“Stop,” he protests, blushing.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie laughs, before turning serious again. “But we really mean it when we say come to us, princess. We’re soulmates, right? We support each other. We want to support you, so why won’t you let us? We want to. Do you get that, Stevie, do you understand?”

His tone clearly demands an answer and though it makes Stevie uncomfortable, she’s also flustered and overwhelmed by the love for these two people. They want to care for her. It’s still crazy, no matter how many times they’ve shown him.

“Do you understand, sweetheart?” Eddie prompts, before Stevie can reply, finally processing that he’s not going to deny them something they want. Even if he’s not at the point where he understand why they would want to.

“I understand,” she says softly. “Thank you for caring.”

“Hey, no problem,” Eddie smiles. “That’s what friends are for.”

A small silence falls wherein they all just take a second to breathe. Stevie almost lets herself hope that they’re not going to mention the whole name thing.

Though, he can’t deny a small part wants them to ask. If they do, he won’t deny it, he can’t. She cares too much for them to be able to do that and she wants to tell them, really, she does. It just terrifies him and he doesn’t know how to bring it up.

But he’s only just accepting that Eddie and Robin are there for her, that they’re not going to leave him behind. And if they do after that, well, he doesn’t know if he’ll survive that. So, she still hopes that they’ve forgotten.

“Dingus,” Robin breaks their silence, looking like she’s picking her words carefully, which she doesn’t often do. “You said something else yesterday. About your name. Want to talk about that a bit more?”

Stevie is sure she must do a great impression of a deer in headlights, because Eddie puts a placating hand on his shoulder and says: “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, sweetheart.” Eddie gives Robin a look. “We ask, because you seemed upset about it.”

Shamefully, Stevie looks down. This is going to be the moment of truth. She quickly glances around, she didn’t bring much since she fled here last night, so he can see his keys on the coffee table. They know how he likes to sit closest to the door, which means he has an easy escape should that prove necessary.

“Usually, I- I can handle it. Sorry for snapping yesterday, it’s not your fault I haven’t- I haven’t told you guys yet,” Stevie sighs, hyping himself up with little success. Fuck, he’s really doing this right now. Holy shit.

“Told us what?” Eddie says, sounding concerned when Stevie stays quiet for a moment. Robin behind him with anxious eyes.

“I’m- I’m not a boy,” he whispers. “I’m just not. I don’t like being Steve, I don’t want to be Steve, it’s not me. I like being Stevie, just Stevie. Not a boy, nor a girl. Just me.”

The silence is deafening.

Stevie doesn’t dare look up. She doesn’t want to see confusion turn into hate or disgust. Right now, he’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the explosion that’s bound to come. It was stupid for him to say anything.

A hand lands on her shoulder and she nearly jumps out of her skin, as she’s tugged to the side. Soon he’s wrapped up in the smell of weed, motor oil and sweat. Eddie. It takes him a moment to compute that Eddie is hugging her.

Fuck, Eddie is hugging him. He’s okay. They’re okay. Stevie is not being beaten up or insulted by friends today.

Relief floods through her and he clings to Eddie, unable to stop the tears. He just cries, soaking Eddie’s shirt, because he was so goddamn scared. But Eddie is hugging him and he’s pretty sure Robin is holding her hand from across the table.

It’s not the most comfortable position, but Stevie is pretty sure that not even the threat of a demogorgon could move him.

After a few long moments, sounds start to filter back in as she comes back to herself. She hears Eddie say: “We’re so proud of you for telling us. Thank you so much, Stevie. You did great. Just let it out. It must have been so scary. But you did it! You did it. We’re here for you. We’re so so proud that you told us.”

“Yeah, we love you,” Robin says squeezing his hand. “We want to see you happy and if this makes you happy, we support you. Thank you so much for trusting us with it.”

She pulls herself out of the hug to wipe the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. He lets out a wet chuckle and says: “Sorry, I just keep crying. Not the best company.”

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart,” Eddie says, aiding in wiping her face clean of tears. “You just came out, we all know how scary that can be. Not to mention the shit nights you’ve had.”

“You truly look like shit, Stevie,” Robin agrees, spoken like a true best friend. “You’re allowed to be sad is what I mean. That sounded a lot worse when I said it than in my head, because I was thinking about it more, like, you look like shit so you probably feel like shit, because life has been a little shit, you know. But when I said it, it was just mean. You know I’m blunt. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Robbie,” Stevie smiles at her. “I get it, thank you. Both of you.” He makes sure to look them both in the eye as she thanks them, because she truly means it.

“Of course,” Robin smiles back.

“Yeah, no problem,” Eddie agrees. “Is there anything else you want to change besides the name? Or people we can or can’t tell? Words that make you uncomfortable?”

Stevie ducks her head. He’s so relieved that they’re being cool and nice, but she has already discovered that she has difficulty talking about it. When he officially came out to Madame Tucker over the phone after experimenting, this was the hardest part.

However, it must be done. Stevie knows he’ll feel better after and she knows Eddie and Robin well enough to know that they’ll keep pushing if he doesn’t. They’re really adamant about making sure she’s comfortable.

“I- I don’t mind he/him, but I’ve also been using she/her in my head,” he stammers. “But either is fine, really. And- and I don’t like being referred to as a man or a boy or a girl or a woman, you know, those sort of terms. But what you’ve been doing is just fine, mostly. Like, I don’t mind the ‘sweetheart’ or ‘princess’ those have been kind of validating honestly, and ‘dingus’ is totally fine too.”

“That’s good to hear,” Eddie smiles, looking a bit proud of himself, which is honestly adorable.

“As for telling people, I don’t know,” Stevie shrugs. “The kids seemed okay with the whole bisexual thing, but this is a whole other ballpark, you know. Not to mention that none of us know what Joyce and Hopper think. For now, I’m just keeping it on the down low. Only you and Madame Tucker know.”

“The drag queen?” Eddie asks.

“Told you I get phone numbers,” Stevie smirks, before nodding: “She’s been very helpful. We talk on the phone.”

“So just not around anyone, like the kids, we can do that. Right, Eddie?” Robin says, looking a bit scared. “I mean, I have a motor mouth. I really don’t want to mess up, because I don’t want to hurt Stevie, like I would be the worst friend, person even, if I did that and what-”

“You’re not gonna out Stevie, okay,” Eddie cuts Robin off before she can spiral. “You wouldn’t do that to her. You know that, Robbie.”

A warmth fills Stevie’s chest at their words. There is such an easy acceptance, neither of them really missing a beat as they incorporate the new pieces of him into their life.

“Robs, don’t worry, you’re gonna be fine,” Stevie assures her, as she backs up Eddie. “You knew how to shut up even with Russians interrogating you and injecting you with truth serum. If you can do it in those circumstances, you can not tell the kids. You’re gonna be fine. Besides, you can keep using Stevie with them around. We can pass that off as just a nickname.”

Robin takes a deep breath. “You’re right. You’re right. I can do that,” she nods, almost as if she’s giving herself a pep-talk.

Eddie and Stevie meet gazes as they simultaneously turn to the other with a fond look, as if to ask ‘are you seeing this? Our soulmate is such a sweet dork’ and their fond look only turns into a grin as they see that the other agrees.

There’s a weight off his shoulders now that Stevie has told Eddie and Robin. They still love him, they’re still here.

She’s going to be okay.

It’s the best feeling and he lets himself bask in it as they continue drinking their coffee. Until Robin has to leave if she wants to get ready before her shift. Stevie chokes up a bit when she finds out Robin walked to Eddie’s bungalow just to be there for her.

He offers to drive her, but they find out he’s forgotten his glasses at home in his hurry to get to Eddie in the night. They scold her for being unsafe and Eddie drives Robin to her house to get changed before driving her to Family Video. Stevie promises to pick her up so she can hang around while the others play DnD later.

Eddie also drives Stevie to her own house. He asks Eddie if it’s okay to come back with him and just hang around until it’s time to pick up the kids, not yet wanting to be alone. Luckily, Eddie gets that and assures her it’s not a problem.

Hanging around Eddie has always been great, like he can be herself around him. But now, she feels even more free.

At his house, she picked up a pair of more light gray high-waist sweats and a pink cropped sweater, to give himself a figure he’s more comfortable with. It’s not like he feels the need to do something extreme, the dresses and skirts he has squirreled away from her mother’s closet are nice as is the makeup, but Stevie mostly wants to be comfortable. She found it can be the little things that validate him the most.

It’s a bit nerve wracking to change out of his day clothes that she’ll wear later when going out, but when he comes back into the room, Eddie only gives him an up and down, wolf whistling as he winks: “Looking good, princess.”

“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes, but he can’t deny that happy feeling in his chest at the words.

She doesn’t have much to do, but being alone has never been a good time for him and Eddie is more than happy with the company. They’re both a bit lonely like that with Stevie’s parents always away and Wayne working the night shift and having an opposite schedule. So hanging out together works in their favor.

Eddie, however, religiously keeps his notes away from Stevie, who likes being surprised too much to peak, though he gets it.

Still, as he lays there on the couch, listening while Eddie scribbles away at the table, he can’t help but say: “I changed my backup character. Remember when I asked you for a new sheet two weeks ago?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Eddie tells her, looking up from his writing.

“That wasn’t because I didn’t want to fuck with you,” Stevie admits. “Well, that too, but- uhm, I- I made a female backup.”

It’s terrifying to have that in the open and she hears a surprised noise from the table, something she pointedly doesn’t look at. He doesn’t want to see Eddie’s expressive and inquiring eyes right now, she tells those eyes too much.

“I don’t know if I ever want to play her, you know. After the bi thing I dropped last time, I don’t want them poking around that notion until I’m ready, but I like having it there. DnD is all fantasy, you know, I can still hide behind ‘it’s just a game’ and have it mean nothing,” he continues.

He sighs and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. Eddie is waiting for him to go on, sensing that he isn’t done, just needs a moment to gather her thoughts.

“And it’s not like I want to be a girl or some shit. I thought about it for a moment, but it’s not for me. Seems like a lot of work,” she says and Eddie snorts. “But everyone everywhere will always see me as a man. That’s just a fact. So having DnD character be a girl would kind of be like having a space where the opposite is true. It’s a nice fantasy to have, I guess.”

“DnD is all about fantasy,” Eddie agrees. “And the moment you feel comfortable with the kids knowing you can tell me and I’ll find a way to kill Sir Stephen, so you can switch.”

“That’s nice, thank you, Eds.”

“No worries. Do you want me to do anything during DnD? You know, about Sir Stephen, since he is very much a guy when you’re not.” Eddie is looking at him with questioning concerned eyes, now that he finally managed to scrounge up the courage to look back.

“Nah,” she shakes her head assuring Eddie. “I have come to live with Sir Stephen. I’ve been removing him from myself and what I would do a bit. It helps me view him as a character instead of a fantasy version of me.”

“Alright, that’s good,” Eddie smiles. “Tell me if it changes.”

“I will.”

“Can I ask about you backup?” Eddie asks. “Or do you want to keep your mystery lady to yourself for a little longer?”

Stevie shoots upright. He is really proud of her, okay, give him a break. She’s been dying to tell someone since he made the character, Madame Tucker just doesn’t get DnD (and it is frankly hilarious that he is in the position that Dustin was in back when Stevie first started babysitting the kids).

“Her name is Lady Stevie the Striking,” he excitedly tells Eddie. “She’s an elf barbarian and she is like the prettiest most ethereal person ever, I’m talking high elven noble blood in her veins, but she’s just so mad at the world. Because she wants to fight, but her parents didn’t let her because she’s supposed to be a lady and help in their political empire, but she went out anyway. She’s kind of disowned.”

And Stevie rambles on about Lady Stevie for little while. Glad that Eddie gets that it is nice if someone listens.

When she’s done talking Eddie is looking almost as excited as she is. “Holy shit, Lady Stevie sounds fucking epic, princess. That backstory alone gave me so many ideas. I’m usually not a DM that gets joy out of killing party members, but killing Sir Stephen will be delightful.”

“Maybe a bit cathartic, honestly,” Stevie pipes in happily, before sagging and sighing, “If I ever get the courage of getting him killed.”

“Hey, no pressure, if you never do that’s fine. You don’t owe anyone shit, okay,” Eddie says fiercely. “If you decide you won’t tell the kids, we’ll bully Robbie into a oneshot and you can play Lady Stevie the Striking there. Don’t you worry.”

“Fuck, you’re so nice about this,” Stevie chokes out, nearly crying again. “This is so much better than I ever expected. Thank you. Thanks, really.”

“I feel like respecting your identity is just basic human decency, but in today’s social climate, I get it. But still, it’s not a problem, Stevie. I do it with pleasure,” Eddie assures him. “Besides, I’d be a pretty shit soulmate if I didn’t.”

“Are you going to keep using the soulmate thing to bully me and get me to accept your care for the rest of time?” Stevie complains.

“Yup, better get used to it, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me,” Eddie grins, sticking out his tongue.

“What a nightmare,” Stevie swoons dramatically, though she doesn’t mean it in the slightest and both of them know it. The thought of being stuck with Eddie and Robin forever sounds like the greatest fucking thing ever.

When it’s time to pick up Robin and some of the kids, Stevie changes his clothes. The kids will all bike, save Will and Erica, so he’s swinging by the school beforehand to get them too. He’s already excited about tonight, glad to hang out with his twerps, plus Eddie and Robin.

Arriving at the school dims her mood somewhat. The kids with their bikes take off when Erica and Will can get to the car safely, though Dustin gives him a knowing look she can’t decipher and Mike glares, while Lucas elbows him.

All of this becomes even less clear when Will enters her car, thunder cloud above his head. Stevie asks if anything happened, but that only makes Will more moody as he ignores the two.

Stevie tries pushing but it doesn’t work and when they get to Family Video and Robin gets in already rambling about how boring shifts are without him and how much customers can suck, Will huffs and looks out of the window.

Robin gives Stevie a questioning look and she shrugs helplessly. Both turning a bit concerned, but they decide to stay quiet. Though neither can help it as they steal glances at the baby Byers the entire ride to Eddie’s.

Will slams the car door as he hurries out the moment Stevie has parked. Both Stevie and Robin jump at the sound and Stevie asks Erica: “Did anything happened today? At school maybe?”

Erica looks between them, before replying: “Nothing at school no.”

“At home then?” Robin pushes, knowing how Stevie worries.

“Is he okay?” Stevie asks.

“Nothing like that, lets just go before I get blamed for being late,” Erica says, getting out and not giving them more.

With slight apprehension Stevie and Robin follow her into the bungalow, where the others are already setting up. When they get in Dustin practically materializes in front of them and demands: “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating?”

Oh, fuck, the kids found out about that. Stevie forces himself to give off a relaxed posture and answers: “Because it’s none of your business and I knew you’d be insufferable about it.”

“You could have told me! I had to hear it from Lucas, who heard it from his mom, because she talked to Mrs. Wheeler, who had been to brunch with Mrs. Buckley,” Dustin pouts, looking a bit offended. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I do. I do trust you,” Stevie assures him, hating the position he’s in even if he put herself there. “I just want some semblance of privacy and I know that you’ve been dying to say ‘I told you so’ ever since you found out.”

“Well, I did tell you so,” Dustin shrugs, placated. “Like ages ago. At Starcourt, before the Russian elevator even.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Stevie rolls her eyes, giving a look to Robin, who nearly dies laughing at the smug kid, who couldn't be more wrong.

“So, how long have you been together? Who confessed? What was your first date like?” Dustin asks them.

They haven’t really thought about answers for that and both of them look at each other, pulling a blank. Panic sets in a bit. Luckily Eddie is right there and also in the know, so he calls out: “Oi, dipshits, this is not the interrogate Robbie and Stevie hour. We’re playing DnD, lets go. I put effort into this shit.”

“Yeah, it’s not about them right now,” Will spits, almost venomous and Stevie gets a sinking feeling in his stomach that he knows what this is about. He gives Eddie a look, who frowns back, neither of them looking forward to seeing how this will unfold.

Everyone does catch on, however, and drops the topic as they all settle down around the table, while Eddie begins the narration where they left off last time.

It’s a bit tense at first, but soon they’re all having fun. Will relaxes a bit, though he still doesn’t really engage with Stevie, who tries to let it go and have fun anyway. But that’s not really helped by Mike, who has decided to back Will’s foul mood and is a bit more vocal about it, sniping at her here and there.

Eddie shuts it down when it happens so it doesn’t get out of hand, but when it does happen it hurts a bit anyway.

They all see how it’s brewing and it comes to a head when they’re trying to get into the dungeon past some guards. Stevie tries to seduce one of them as a distraction, so the others can sneak by, a routine move at this point.

“Steve is flirting with a girl, we’re back to normal,” Will rolls his eyes as he scowls.

“What?” Stevie chokes out in surprise.

“Yeah, you’re so fucking happy with Robin apparently. Bit out of nowhere. And you can’t even keep that up, already flirting with some girl, just like that guy last time,” Will snipes as everyone in the table turns back to look at Stevie, wondering where this will go.

“It’s just a game,” Stevie tells him, panicking. “It’s not like I’m cheating on her.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. It's just a game. It's fucking fantasy. Not real. None of it is to you,” Will says angrily and it’s unclear if the watery eyes are from anger, hurt or both.

The words punch Stevie in the throat. She knows how much her support meant to Will at Halloween and the game before. He hadn’t realized the kid would see this as a betrayal and it hurts. He bared his soul to the kid and now it’s getting thrown back in his face, like she has faked it.

She wants to explain. Wants to tell Will that he’s still on his side, but she doesn’t dare. The last thing they need is the kids questioning his relationship with Robin. She needs it for safety. At least until they can move out. Not to mention that he doesn’t want to out Will to his friends, since she hasn’t heard of him coming out yet.

But still, even if he was really dating Robin that wouldn't mean he’s less bisexual. Less queer. He still gets it. It’s still her as well.

However, after this shit show, the last thing she wants to do is officially come out to all the little twerps. It would seem like a defense and with the mood everyone is in, he doesn’t want risk any of them saying something they don’t mean. Or do mean. Both of which will suck.

Luckily, Eddie steps in again, his hero this evening. He slams his hand on the table and points to Will as he says: “Stop that. Don’t talk to Stevie like that, Byers. I mean it. You’re being unreasonable and you’re in the wrong here.”

“You don’t get it,” Will snaps.

“I get that you’re in a foul mood and taking it out on Stevie. And he doesn’t deserve it, so cut it out right now,” Eddie tells him calmly, but with an edge in his tone.

“No! You don’t understand, none of you do. He said he was b-”

“Stop,” Eddie cuts Will of before he can out Stevie and spit more venom. “I do get it, Will. I do. I know exactly what’s happening in your brain, so I know that you don’t understand right now. This will always be just a game in the end. It’s great for escape and trying things, but it doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to.”

“You’re on his side now?” Mike asks, backing up Will. “You can’t play favorites.”

“Right now, maybe I am, because this is supposed to be fun. Fun,” Eddie snaps back. He rarely snaps at any of the kids. “I’m a flaming homosexual and I still play all the girls you flirt with, as well as the guys. That doesn’t make me less gay. Same goes for anyone else here. It is just a fucking game.”

And with that, the whole room falls deathly silent, all the kids looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

~~

A/N:

Oehh a cliff hanger, I don’t think I’ve done that in this work yet

Note: Outing anyone is never cool, no matter the circumstances and what horrible thing you think the other has done. Someone’s sexuality should never be weaponized against them. No matter how much I understand why Will felt betrayed, he will be told that wasn’t okay next chapter. This isn’t a dunk on his character, but he’s also a kid trying to find himself. He’s not going to be perfect about it.

Ngl, I hate talking about my gender to people and what does and does not make me comfortable, bc I hate the attention and talking about my feelings, so I’m giving Stevie the success I never had (like, I’m 90% certain my dad missed me coming out… twice now, bc I’m so bad at it… oops)

((I have a male DnD character, bc sometimes it’s just gender to play the opposite of your AGAB, even if you don’t have a gender yourself))

also for those wondering why Robin and Stevie won’t date for real bc now Stevie isn’t a man, I’m genderwise like Stevie but in a relationship I present myself on the women end (iew me as a woman) of the spectrum, for Stevie’s that’s a man, hope this helps <3

(also romantic Stobin creeps me out)

[linoyes]

[ohitslen]

Intrusive thoughts

[ruporas]

wolfwood redraws (ID in alt text)

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[logicpng]

i have um. caved and read a fanfic for once. hi

ghost in the machine / soleil are @venomous-qwille's

[Image Description in ALT]

[starwarjotta]

Day 6 - resolve the resolve to protect those you care about even against impossible odds

[cloudyydraws]

more saiki stuff

[uncanny-tranny]

I'm going to preface this by saying that I have really complex feelings about this, and much of it is inspired by my personal experiences and a bit of learning about what other trans people experience. If I come across as messy, it is because of these reasons.

There's this unshakable feeling I have that when allies and even other trans people talk about trans people, transition and motivation for transition, and anything related to such, that there's only certain things that x type of trans person can (and should) experience and talk about.

Like, when people talk about FtMs/trans men/transmasc people, a common idea is that we're motivated to transition to game the system, to manipulate people into treating us better because we're now seen as men. A huge reason I never even bought into that idea is because, since transition (especially medical), I have been treated worse than I ever have been. Since transitioning and being on testosterone, I've been catcalled, had people insist I hand my number over, and I have to emphasize that I've never experienced these things until a couple of years ago (to clarify, this was in my real, corporeal life). I honestly can say that, while transition has saved my life and soul, I am treated worse by others than I ever had been pre-transition. However, because the idea of transmascs is that "they were victims of misogyny and they only want to escape it through transition" is popular even among some trans people, I feel like it's almost... taking something away by acknowledging that. Add to this that I'm white and that TPoC have so many experiences that intertwine with race, and that race absolutely goes into how trans people are treated.

I am not saying that my experience is the only valid or true one. I am very aware that I'm probably an outlier. However, I just notice that, time and time again, people hear what they want to hear about transness, and if people have even slightly different points of view from their experiences, it doesn't matter, or worse, those people are duplicitous and conniving.

[moronic-validity]

Fuck it. More self serving shit, but this is all headcanons because I just got done writing a fucking 4 page essay that my blood, sweat, and tears literally went into.

The 141 + Farah, König, Laswell, Nik, Valeria, and Graves x best friend! Reader who is stressed with classes. I'm sorry it's a shorter extended list than usual, but I'm like...still dying from the paper

Warning for mentions of dry heaving and an inappropriate joke, but this is straight up PG-13

Price handles it well, shocking absolutely no one. He's a bit confused why you're talking about pulling your hair out over a paper, but you said it was important, so he's going to sit with you and talk you through the entire paper. At some point, he basically just tells you what to type and you do. When the paper gets a B+ Price almost throws a chair.

The one that will shock you? Soap handles it well too! The second he sees the tears well up, he's sitting next to you, helping you map out the entire assignment. He won't talk you through it the way Price does, but he helps you get your thoughts in order enough to complete it on your own.

Ghost....well Ghost handles it in stride. You two became friends because of dry wit, snark, and the ability to remain calm, cool, and collected when shit hits the fan. And then he walks in on you dry heaving because you just found out you have a 5 page paper due by midnight and it's already 10 pm. Fuck. If your hair is long, he preemptively holds it back for you, before squatting next to you to figure out what has you so upset. When he finds out it's over a paper, he has to suppress a relieved laugh. He thought it was something serious. He'll stay up as long as you need and let you bounce ideas off him, but he's not gonna hold your hand and walk you through it.

Which leaves us with my boy Gaz! He's somewhere in-between the Ghost and Price. He showed up to your place for y'all's weekly movie night and heard you cussing up and down, left and right. Thinking there was an issue, he let himself in, only to see you yelling at your computer, tears streaming down your face. He does actually let out a relieved laugh, and sits on the couch with you. He doesn't want to hear apologies for forgetting movie night, he wants to help you get this done so movie night can commence. He will straight up take your computer and finish the assignment for you, if he has to.

Bonus!!!

Farah: Absolutely helps you crush the assignment. She'll bitch with you about the assignment, the professor, anything, but you two will get this done. If you get less than an A, I'd be shocked.

König: Listen, this guy will bluntly tell you that you should've started the assignment sooner, but he'll also be there for you to bounce ideas off of and he'll help steer your line of thought until you've got it handled.

Laswell: Depending on how upset you are, she is fully willing to forge documents that say you were admitted to the hospital for a few days and get you an extension. That being said, you get this privilege once in a calendar year. Use it wisely.

Nik: Well, C's get degrees, right? He'll do his best to help, but depending on the assignment, you both might be fucked. Nik is smart as hell, but some of this shit is new and also complicated for no fucking reason.

Valeria: She will do whatever you need her to to get this assignment done. Shut up and just keep you on task? Done. Do it for you? Done. Kill your professor? She knows a guy, done. Oh wait, you were joking about that last one? Um... Give her like...10 minutes.

Graves: He'll help you out to the best of his abilities, but when that C comes back and both of you are crestfallen, he will half-jokingly remind you that there are other ways to get an A.

[becca-e-barnes]

Sub!bucky is so needy for you after you denied his orgasm a few days (he is so whiny 😩🥵)

And at night he’s having a wet dream of you and he doesn’t know that’s part of you evil plan… while he grinds his clothed dick at your palm you whisper some sexy things in his ears. When he cums he wakes up and you made his look like he was not your good boy 🥵🥵🥵🥵

I've actually been thinking about something similar recently! I just really love subby men eugh 🤤

I like to think you could make it a little more intense though because I prefer to imagine that you've been making him edge for a few days. You don't let him edge inside you, you both know he'd struggle too much. Instead, you lube up your hand and stroke him for hours, letting him fuck your fist until he's dribbled so much precum over you, your hand is unbearably slick and then you kiss his forehead before you tuck his aching cock back into his underwear.

No matter how much he whines and begs and pleads to be allowed to cum, you don't give in. He's not just being denied his orgasm, he's being worked towards it until he's right on the edge and then you give him absolutely nothing. Repeatedly. It's torture but fuck, he gets off on knowing his dick is yours. He doesn't cum without your permission. You completely own him.

He breaks after the sixth night of being relentlessly edged. You'd stroked his cock nice and slowly for hours that day, swirling your tongue over his tip and reminding him that he's the best boy. He was practically shaking by the time you both made it to bed.

His little whine of "Oh fuck, please." was the first thing you remember hearing when you woke up, quickly followed by "O-oh, oh yes."

At first you thought he must be touching himself; giving in to his own slutty thoughts when he thought you wouldn't find out.

As your sleepy brain slowly wakes up, you realise he's grinding against you, rubbing his throbbing cock against your bare ass, gripping your hips like there's no tomorrow. "Gonna cum. F-fuck, gonna cum." He's frantic, his head tucked in against your neck, his breath hot and erratic against your skin.

You can't have that. Absolutely not. You shuffle away from him, determined not to let him have what he needs and the second the contact between your bodies is broken, you hear him whine pathetically.

"Did you really think that would work out for you?" You tease quietly, turning to face him but that's when you realise his eyes are still closed. His brow is furrowed, very clearly still asleep.

You can't help but pity him. He's so desperate to cum, he's grinding against you in his sleep. He's done his very best to do as he's told but his body can't take it. He's been the best boy for you all week. The least you could do is grant him a little relief.

"You're such a good boy, Bucky." You whisper, pressing him gently onto his back, grasping his cock and letting the tip glide between your slick folds. Nothing feels better than this. You've missed it more than you thought you would this week.

"Such a pretty little slut." You line his tip up with your entrance and ever so slowly lower yourself down. "You're a mindless little fuck toy for me when you're like this. So horny, you can hardly even think straight. You've been like a needy fucking puppy for me all week. You just let your dick think for you, isn't that right? You know I could tell when you were zoning out and daydreaming about fucking me? You're so cute."

As you start to really fuck yourself on him, Bucky seems to moan himself awake.

"Please." He begs, and it sounds so pretty when he says it. "Please, I'm so close. I'm gonna cum. I can't cum inside you. There's gonna be so much."

"Oh sweetheart, that's what I want. I want you to fill me. Stuff my cunt full of cum. I thought I told you how badly I want a baby."

[s0fter-sin]

it’s the sound that tips him off.

it’s late, half-past hell by his last count, and mactavish knows there shouldn’t be a single soul in the showers this time of night. though he’s sure if he asked, he’d be told a soul isn’t in there.

just a ghost.

he almost chokes on the thick steam filling the locker room; humid and hazy and the perfect cover. or it would be, if the man collapsed in the far stall cared about hiding.

mactavish hates himself a little for the low sigh that falls from his lips. he wishes he wasn't so disappointed; that the promises he's heard over and over and watched be broken as many times hadn't wedged their way into his heart and convinced him that maybe, maybe this could be the time it sticks.

he doesn't know what's worse; the disappointment or the lack of surprise.

he holds his breath through the steam and leans over the limp body; stinging hot water hitting his back, instantly soaking through his clothes and already starting to burn. he flicks the tap enough to take the bulk of the heat out and straightens; a groan startling out of the man beneath him at the sudden lash of tepid water.

mactavish crouches, knees clicking and hooks a hand under his bicep to pull him up straight against the wall. if there was any vomit on his skin, it's been washed away by the pelting stream and he supposes he can count himself lucky for that. he tilts his limp head back and slips his fingers into his mouth; holding down his tongue and ignores the way it lazily jolts under his fingers to check his airway.

clear.

another small victory.

mactavish pulls his fingers out and cups his chin, keeping him tilted up and moves in the way of the water again so he can pull at his eyelid.

the eye he's met with is cloudy, so dilated there's hardly a ring of blue left.

he sighs again; hand falling away and letting his eye fall shut. "god damnit, riley."

riley moans, all his weight resting on the hand holding his jaw.

"aye, 'm talking ‘bout you," he grunts tiredly.

he lets riley's head fall forward to grab his arm, pulling him away from the wall to sit behind him; propping his body up against his chest. he leans his head back over his shoulder, keeping his face out of the water and his airway open just in case he hasn't actually finished throwing up.

he takes the rag riley'd half-managed to soap up and mechanically runs it over him; cataloguing new bruises and cuts and checking if the old ones are healing. sickly yellow fingerprints ring his hips, red splotches paint his ribs; too new to have settled into the deep purple he knows they’ll become.

riley slowly makes more noise as he rubs life into his body; still lying limp against his front but his head's starting to roll restlessly on his shoulder. he swipes between his legs and carefully doesn't think a single thing about what he finds.

"sean?" he rasps and mactavish's hand stills; eyes falling shut. he bites his check, hand clenching around the rag tight enough to shake and breathes hard out his nose.

he doesn't say a word, just forces himself to go back to cleaning.

he's not sure what would come out of his mouth if he did.

riley isn't conscious enough to hear him anyway.

he runs his fingers over his inner elbows for tracks and manages to muster some relief when he doesn't find any. seems to be a pill and booze night; far from the worst condition he's found him in.

he rinses him off, running a curtesy hand over his shaved head only for it to fall back to his jaw; his thumb stroking over the thick scar carved into his cheek.

"you gotta stop doin' this," he whispers.

he isn’t sure if he’s talking to riley or himself.

mactavish gathers up riley's too-light body into his arms and turns off the shower. his head lolls into his throat and he throws a towel over his dripping body and another over his shoulder. it doesn't stop him from tracking water all the way to his quarters but he'd like to see someone try to put in a complaint about it.

he lays out the other towel on the bed and sets riley down; moving his body into the recovery position in an all-too familiar routine. he dries him enough that he won't soak the covers as he pulls them up to his chest and kicks the waste bin within grabbing distance of the bed.

he goes to pull off his sodden clothes when a different noise makes him freeze.

a low sniffle.

mactavish slowly turns back to the bed to find riley's eyes squinting open; glazed with tears as he kneads at the covers.

he stares at him for a moment as he looks around the room and those hazy eyes lock on him for the first time. "cap'n?"

he swallows. "aye; s'just me, riley."

his hand pokes out from under the covers and for all the promises he's made himself - all the “never again”s and “this is the last time”s - at the end of the day, he's weak.

he sits on the side of the bed and takes riley's hand in his; already so cold after nearly boiling himself alive.

"y' mad a' me?" he sniffs.

mactavish runs his tongue over his lip and slowly shakes his head. "no, i'm not mad at you."

"prom'se?" he pushes.

he reaches out and caresses his temple with his thumb. his hand almost covers his head and it cuts like a knife to remember just how small riley is. "aye," he says, hushed. "i promise."

riley's eyes fall shut, voicelessly murmuring 'promise’ to himself over and over.

"I’ll ge’ bett'r," he slurs and between one breath and the next, he's out.

mactavish sighs, running his hand in a final pass over his head and stares at a face that looks so much younger in sleep; bruised and sallow skin hidden in the shadows. "i know you will."

he presses a slow kiss to his forehead, shutting his eyes against the grief that wells in his heart and gets up to pull a chair over to the bed; settling in for another long night's vigil of watching his broken lieutenant sleep, ready to tilt him over if he throws up, eyes locked on the slow rise and fall of his chest fearing tonight may finally be the time it stops.

[dailykugisaki]

Day 159 | id in alt

Long overdue feast.

(Bears have absolutely no care if their prey is still alive whilst they eat, but they have a tendency to crush the lungs and bones of their prey while they're alive.)

[ratwithhands]

Hi, Viewer Discretion:

This AU is about a nonexistent fictional mental health condition. There is imagery of straitjackets and other restraints, as well as mention of discrimination based off of health conditions. If you are uncomfortable with this content then please feel free to click off and enjoy something else. Thank you.

Dressing Sketch

Uniform Sketches

League Party sketch

Sketch dump for Battle Addict! This art has been gathering dust for a few months 😭 only just remembered to post it here.

These sketches are from Ver. 3 of Battle Addict, aka Battle Addict Twins, where both of them get the HCCM diagnosis.

The base idea for Battle Addict is that while most people enjoy Pokémon battling, there comes a certain point where one's love/obsession for battle starts bleeding into the rest of their life and becoming detrimental to their everyday life. This is usually called Combative Mania (CM), which is present in a large part of the population (40%-60%) hence why battling is so popular and so many different forms of it are made to keep people satisfied. The extreme form is Hyper-Competitive Combative Mania (HCCM), wherein a person spends so much time and energy for battles that it starts to affect their physical/mental health as well as their social life, since they neglect them in favour of their obsession.

Often what divides CM patients from HCCM patients is what they're willing to give up for battling and the extent of their knowledge regarding battles. CM patients usually only have a casual interest in battling or just enjoy the thrill of battling, but operate normally and have other interests outside of battle. They have basic to intermediate knowledge of battling, and can often partake in research or battles.

HCCM patients will often forgo food, water, sleep, school, work, and relationships in favour of researching and competing in battles. It is the only thing they find interest in and they devote most of their time towards it. Patients often memorize entire charts of statistics and different strategies and counterstrategies for battle, with different patients often having a certain subject they specialize in. Most patients with HCCM are unaware that they have it, they either assume that they have CM or that they are completely normal and just enjoy Pokémon battles. They often go into fields that work directly with researching Pokémon or battles, such as professors, scientists, gym leaders, elite four members, league workers, battle facility operators, and so on.

Ingo and Emmet do not know they have HCCM. They engage with battle and researching battle in a way that they think is typical for a hobbyist. Ingo tends to read on academic papers, textbooks, and study guides regarding the statistics and capabilities of Pokémon, whereas Emmet takes a more hands-on approach in studying Pokémon anatomy and battle strategy. Ingo often charts and studies natures, EVs, IVs, stat spreads, abilities, moves, and their properties. Emmet sketches anatomical diagrams and studies of Pokémon, including skeletal structure, musculature, organ systems, and physical appearance, highlighting pressure points in the body for executing the most damage and for keeping his own Pokémon protected. He also tends to read into psychological studies as well as conducting his own long term tests to predict a person's strategy in different situations. The two feed into each other's interests, teaching the other of their own discoveries and celebrating breakthroughs together. As a result, their total knowledge of battling is immense, which led to them becoming Subway Bosses straight out of college.

The two lived and worked fairly normally; they were very passionate about their work and it provided a way to sate their need for fighting on a regular basis, as well as giving them the space to experiment with different fighting styles and analyze others' strategies. Of course they still continue their studying outside of work, which often leads to them trying different methods or revisiting recorded battles to see how they could improve. The twins still believe their hours long discussions, piles of notes, and stacks of study materials littered around their house are perfectly fine, only stopping to reconsider after a comment from a coworker highlights how they must be crazy or incredibly disciplined to have as huge of a win : loss ratio as they do.

They end up taking the issue to a psychiatrist after dwelling on the idea for a few days, which is where they get diagnosed after a few tests and a description of their lifestyle and interests. Their case is considered moderate but could easily escalate into severe if left unchecked, though the main concern is whether this would make them a threat to other people due to their work and prominence. Obviously they don't want to lose their jobs, but this kind of thing could get them removed from the League Council if it got out, so they have to consider whether they share this information with their employers or not. Ingo thinks it'd be best to keep it under wraps, but Emmet fears that this could be used as blackmail and argues that they need to release this information themselves before someone else ruins their lives with it. Eventually they do take the diagnosis to the League Council and it gets out to the public.

Emmet takes the fall for Ingo, claiming his case is severe whereas Ingo's is mild so that the League Council will be more distracted with him to bother Ingo. That ends up with Emmet getting a new restraining uniform because the League no longer trusts him to handle himself in public based off his diagnosis. Neither of them are particularly pleased about this, but Emmet tells Ingo to look on the bright side. Emmet actually starts to find the jacket to be more of a little challenge than a hindrance, as it adds an extra level of difficulty to battles that he's been looking for, but Ingo still thinks it would be better if he hadn't had to wear it at all. This unfortunately extends to League parties where he has to be restrained to even be allowed entry, which he is much less happy about.

This post is getting ungodly long as it is but there's also a branch off of this concept where Ingo and Emmet land in Hisui together and Emmet's uniform looks like this. He deconstructed the uniform he was given to modify his jacket since by that point he had a bit of a sentimental connection to it and didn't want to just swap it out.

(Bonus fun fact: Ingo and Emmet decided to pull the biggest gag on the Pearl Clan when they first land by pretending to be one person under the alias Eki. Ingo is the polite one in the dark coat by day, and Emmet is the energetic one in the white coat by night. "Day Eki" is more popular with other Wardens and older clan members, whereas "Night Eki" is more popular with the village children and insomniacs.

The whole Warden Eki concept is technically its own AU in the background but it did originate from Battle Addict. Also I already drew Emmet in the Pearl Strait I can't take that back)

Anyways uhhh there's more let me see if I can condense it:

The twins went to a University specifically focused on battle (Champion's University), where they ended up studying subjects in their specific interests. Emmet took psychology of battle and Pokémon anatomy to learn about the weak points in trainers and Pokémon, and Ingo took general statistics and study of moves which are exactly what they sound like

The twins use the Vs Recorder all the time, both to track their own progress and to observe how passengers fight. It's often stuck to the glass windows to catch the Pokémon in the middle of the car, though they have considered buying Rotom Drones expressly for this purpose

Emmet actually has a stack of different studies on weak points in the human body but he doesn't share that with anyone, not even Ingo

Emmet's study of trainer psych has led to him often predicting tactics before they happen and dodging/countering them with his Pokémon. He often challenges himself to predict a person's team, moveset, and strategy based on appearance, gait, and body language, sharing his guesses with Ingo in case he makes any useful observations

Ingo and Emmet are possibly the first instance of causing "learned HCCM" in their Pokémon because after the training that they do together, the Pokémon have developed their own independent bloodlust and have started memorizing the move strategies that the twins have them use

Sometimes to celebrate fully completing a study on a particular set of Pokémon, the twins will eat one. This is mostly as a treat and an inside joke, but they will research what's in season/allowed and go hunt for one. Ingo is usually the one to catch it, and Emmet is the one to cook it. There's some really goofy shitposts about them going after pseudo-legendaries overseas, or Palkia's leg in Hisui

The twins can perform full medical care on any Pokémon and can often grind for hours nonstop since they can heal their teams themselves. They also save a lot on healing items this way

After releasing their diagnosis, the perception of the twins have gone in wildly different directions. Some people treat them as subhuman or as monsters, some people don't care, some people call them psycho yandere boys on twitter. Emmet tends to get more of the negative connotations, Ingo tends to get the more "positive" ones. Emmet also tends to get a lot of stares due to his restraint and status as a crazed fighter, which he pretends doesn't get to him

I think that's everything, I'm going to go collapse. Hope you guys enjoy 👍

[mysteriesmuse]

Cherry Mocha

You’d been really upset lately. Your period had snuck up on you and ruined a perfectly good sundress that’d you’d just purchased. And now, to top it all off, it was a rainy misty day that really only added to the atmosphere. You’d actively chosen to hole yourself up in your room that afternoon after spending the morning downstairs watching a terribly-narrated true crime documentary with a couple of your classmates. After that you went up and settled in amongst you duvet covers and huffed in discomfort as you scrolled through your phone. Your wrist jingled with the new bracelet that Katsuki had gifted you for your birthday. It was a pretty solid rose gold that complimented your skin and, on Katsuki’s birthday which was less than a week after yours, he procured a matching necklace chain that matched yours — except of course, yours had a little gold K.

The bracelet made you smile as you focused in on your freshly manicured hands which sported a fresh new color called cherry mocha, which glimmered the same color of Katsuki’s eyes in the sunlight. Katsuki had gone out with the boys this morning and you’d already texted once to ask if he’d pick up more ibuprofen for you on the way back and he’d already liked your message indicating that he’d pick some up for you. So whilst waiting, you took seized the rare opportunity of silence in the dorm to call your mother and check-in on your dog who’d recently gone to the vet and come back with a cone — a cone which seemed to exasperate your parents with a great sense of frustration and humor. After a nice phone call back home you sat around and awkwardly petted one of your stuffed animals that you placed in your lap to alleviate the cramps as you sat curled up in a fetal position.

At some point or another you must’ve dozed off because you awoke to rapt knuckles at your door and your phone buzzing away. Blearily your brain put together the pieces as you saw your boyfriends caller ID blinking up at you. You shouted, “It’s open, come in.” Immediately regretting the decision as you coughed a little your voice still recovering from sleep. Your boyfriend quickly threw open the door pill bottle in hand, “Took you damn long enough. I got your meds on the way back, if you need anything else just lemme know. I can run out and grab it for ya’”

You nodded, stretching your arms above your head as Katsuki placed the pill bottle down on the nightstand next to your near empty water bottle. You watched as he made a frown and silently picked it up and turned on his foot and exited the room with more carpeted thuds. A few minutes later he was back and you happily took your meds waiting for them to kick in. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Do y’need anything else?” He asked rubbing circles absent-mindedly on your knee. you shook your head, “no, I don’t need anything else right now, but I might want something . . .” you murmmered, eyes flickering over to the book on your nightstand. You tried to read it earlier but the migraine you’d been battling all day made it difficult to keep your eyes focused for too long even just to read a couple of lines.

It seemed Katsuki noticed how you glanced over and he lightly tapped your leg as he stood up reading your mind, “okay, scoot over. If I’m gonna read I ought to be comfy.” Although he practically grunted out the sentence, you happily shifted over more and helped hold up the blankets as he moved in beside you. You immediately closed your arm back over his torso and rested your head on his chest as he flicked open the book to the page you’d left on last. Katsuki was an excellent reader — oddly devoted to the characters and invested in the plot, as well as giving out random commentary and pausing at the right moments — as you both heaved a sigh at secondhand embarrassment or whatever overwhelming sense that took over from the characters actions. So you sat the rest of the afternoon sharing sips of your water bottle with Katsuki as he flipped the crisp pages of the new book in the series you were reading. And your eyes flicked from his ruby reds that were scanning the pages, to the cherry mocha of your nails, to thinking of the similiar and slightly ironic shade of blood that you were leaking right now.

[diabloo-666]

Got this vision when talking with a mutual on Instagram who's also here (you'll recognise yourself), so, here-

Behold!

Kusuriuri smoking a blunt! because of course he would