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babychoko · 2 years

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🌺𝔸 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥🌺

Part 11

Note: Edited the last part because sentences were somehow deleted.

Pebbles crunched as I walked limply around the corner to my flat. I thought that the winter time would be quieter and more relaxed. But this did not seem to be the case. Things had become more stressful at my work because drinking coffee was especially popular during the cold season. Usually I had a little time to sit down. But I stayed on my feet almost the entire shift. My headache from the seminar didn't help at all. I'm through for today.

I have to mention that my seminar is not as much fun as before. Mr. Zhongli is no longer leading the class and is taking his post as a guest elsewhere. I haven't seen him for quite a while. And when I do, it's rarely in the hallway, on the second floor. I really missed his methods and found him interesting.

That reminds me, I still have his contact details. He gave me these back then when I was worried about Venti. Should I come to an emergency, he would help me.

Through all my worries, I didn't notice what he said. But...emergency? I suppose if it has something to do with Venti. After all, they're very close. I learned then that Mr. Zhongli helped him out of a jam.

Exactly.

When Venti got to a very low point in his life and lost control of himself. It tears my heart to think about it. Every now and then I think, what would have happened if we had met earlier? Most likely not much. After all, we have a bit of an age difference. No kidding, I thought he was in his early twenties.

But he isn't.

Blessed with a round face, wrinkle-free, he's proudly...

Oh, never mind his age.

What I do know is that he's been through a lot. And if he needs my help, that I will be there for him anytime. With these thoughts, I trot up the stairs to my flat door. It took me quite a while to get there and open the door. What I needed now is to put my feet up. They're bound to fall off any time now if I don't do that.

Winter time..yes yes. One is always sad there. And in autumn, you're still full of joie de vivre.

I suppose so. The colourful leaves still radiated life in nature. And now the branches are standing all bare and blowing away. The new year has already started and I don't feel like new.

As the saying goes: new year, new me.

This and that.

But I can promise that I am exactly the same person at 00:00 as I was at 11:59.

My bag emitted a dull sound as dropped on the floor and took off my shoes, followed by my jacket and other stuff.

I just want to lie down. That's all. Tomorrow I'm sure I'll be re-energised.

I finally sat down on the sofa with my house clothes on and ate my warmed up dinner. But after only a few seconds I was interrupted by a phone call.

Huh?

I answered the call without looking to see who it was.

"(Name)! Long time no hear." I furrowed my eyebrows in irritation.

"To hear from you again..."

"Ehh... aren't you glad? There was a reason for that! Now listen carefully."

"I'm all ears." I sighed and took another bite. He gasped for air.

"I'm allergic to cats, after all..“ Then he exhaled.

"A fact, yes."

"When I was on my way to university, a cat wouldn't budge. I bet it knew I was allergic to them. Roadblock, I tell you. And here's the thing: I wanted to get to the other side of the road..until this beast attacked me! She was looking for trouble!"

Pause.

Oh, he's done? Does he want me to respond?

"Venti, you mean to tell me that a strange cat tried to mess with you of all people?"

"I didn't have time to cuddle with that one. That could have ended fatally. So I was going to decline, then my phone fell out of my hand: it got broken! Uh, hello?"

I struggled to keep from laughing out loud. Him and his stories! Wait a minute...

"So how did you call me now?" I looked at the screen at that exact moment. Oh, his home phone. "It's been taken care of. So your phone didn't survive?"

"And I almost didn't either! Imagine that, (Name)." The thought of Venti rejecting cuddles from a cat made me laugh.

"Can your phone be fixed?"

He sighed. "Unfortunately, no. That's why I have to buy a new phone. What a waste!" I put my plate down on the table. "I think it's about time for a new model. It doesn't have to be expensive." He was always sending me sms. He could make things easier with a smartphone. There are apps that cost nothing. He can send me endless messages or make long phone calls. Besides, nowadays you're almost forced to walk around with a smartphone.

You can't do much without apps any more. But no matter how many times you mention it, Venti was never really convinced. He booked tickets or anything else directly from a shop, office or wherever.

"Maybe I should get one similar to yours."

"That would be good..wait, what?" Venti and a smartphone? I should call the reporters. He'll make headlines.

"Let's look at some models. How about this?" A good opportunity, and to see again. How many weeks has it been? The last time was when he finally met my mother. One day I went to see her and introduced Venti to her. So, a long time ago. Before Christmas.

Her reaction was completely different from what I expected. She was very relaxed, calm and happy. He has a certain charisma that you can't hate. Luckily he didn't let out a line like, "Oh, I didn't know you had a sister!" He would have blown her away with that. Also, I was relieved that she didn't ask about future plans..

After all, he and I didn't bring this up any further. But it was clear that we were leaving everything to fate.

When Venti agreed, we went looking for a smartphone in the shop the very next day. There was a cheap model with a camera from every brand.

"This one costs more than a whole rent to a capital city..how many lenses is that? Huh..THREE?" He looked more closely at the back. "And where's the back button?" I swiped at the screen. "That's how you do it. They don't have those on the newer ones-"

Click

"Wow! Really detailed is this camera!"

"Venti, d-delete that!" Another reason why I won't get one of these. Besides, I can hear our wallets howling.

Sighing, I deleted the picture and also the ones taken by some teenagers. They seem to have forgotten to delete their pictures. It could be that I did a favour for them.

"And a lot of people buy that? Aren't they all practically the same?"

"Well, this brand is popular. Especially among the younger ones. Let's go to the other section. They're cheaper there." I forgot he lives under a rock. Further away from the city, no TV, little internet use... I already envy him for that.

And what a joy that he is not picky. We found the right model for him after not long. In the very next shop, I was allowed to choose a new mobile phone cover for him. It was a light shade of green with a dandelion inside. He liked this cover very much.

After the successful shopping, we sat down in a café and ordered something to drink. I showed him some functions, which he quickly learned to use.

"Hmm... sending you endless messages. That doesn't sound bad." I can get ready for something. But of course I would be delighted. I'll admit that.

I sipped my cocoa in silence and put my phone back on the table. "What have you been up to lately, Venti?"

"Quite a lot of typing. I think my fingers are going to fall off. Not to mention I've had a lot of gigs." So he's been busy too. Poor guy.

"And what about you? (Name), you don't overwork yourself..do you?" If I lied to him now, would he believe me?

"I..I'm still trying with the balance.." He looked half-satisfied. But then he smiled. "Oh, really? As long as you don't overwork yourself, that's fine! After today, you can call me anytime~"

"How's the iron infusion going?" He looked to the side as he drank his cocoa.

"It's finished. I'm following protocol with the diet. But the improvement... is minimal."

"At least it's better than nothing, right?" Looks like we'll continue to do our best.

There was a brief silence between us. We were running out of things to talk about. That's what I thought, at least, until Venti tapped me and pointed to a baby in a highchair.

"Look. He's been staring at you for quite a while..." He whispered with a grin.

What..at me? I looked over Venti's shoulders and sure enough, the baby was looking at me. An older man who could be his grandpa was trying to feed him. But the baby was far too distracted by me and didn't turn to his spoon.

His eyes were a warm emerald colour and his hair was very light in contrast to his skin colour.

When we made eye contact, he smiled at me. It felt very familiar. I didn't feel tense at all.

After that, he finally let his grandpa feed him. Normally I had a feeling that children were afraid of me. But this time it was not the case.

"Ahaa..are you hiding something from me?"

"I-idiot..no way!"

Venti turned to the baby and held out his snow-white hand. The child stopped munching on his bib, let it go and tried to reach for his hand instead.

It was an unusual sight in a café, but Venti could make fast friends with anyone. In the next few seconds he squatted in front of the baby chair and held the baby's little hand with a warm smile. The grandpa couldn't help grinning and put the spoon aside. He probably gave up trying to feed his grandchild and watched. He seemed to have said something because Venti turned to him and nodded, then replied.

I was still sitting a little further away, watching in silence as I rested my cheek on my hand. Seeing them interact so familiarly warmed my heart in a way. Yesterday I was a mess and now a joy awakened me.

I know those emerald eyes will not be forgotten.

We paid after a while and left the café.

"You've made a new little friend, I take it?" I said jokingly and put my hands in my jacket pocket.

"You could say that! There's nothing purer than a child's smile and desire. I love them!"

"You're very kind, Venti." It's no wonder no one feels uncomfortable around him.

He smiled at me, which was contagious. But then I had a suspicion.

Venti...could it be that with me he wants a.. no, no. I'm overthinking everything! But come to think of it, he's older than me. You might have different plans after a few years. Besides, he'll be done with his studies very soon.

After all, life comes with responsibilities. Should I take on another responsibility when it comes my way? When it comes upon us.

Maybe one shouldn't always live a blanket life after all. It's what I used to firmly believe in.

"Venti, do you think... that someday..." Oh, it's not easy to ask.

"Yeah?" He bent down to me. I could feel the warmth in my cheeks.

"Forget it! It doesn't matter now."

"Oh, is that so?" He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Then ask me another time~"

Is he trying to tell me that he knows what I wanted to ask? I'm sure he's just pretending! A quirk of his to make me feel uneasy.

"Are you staying at my place tonight?" I didn't see what was stopping me. So I said yes. It's another opportunity to spend time together.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?"

The long bus ride didn't bother us at all. On the contrary, with him, the time passed quickly. This time, I was the one drawing something with my fingers on the fogged windows.

"(Name), can I ask you something?"

"Anytime? Yes."

He then drew with me at the window. A sun.

"Do you..believe in reincarnation?"

"I think so. I'm still very unsure about it." Reincarnation is one thing that has remained unanswered for me until now. But why was he asking me that? Then I remembered that he can start conversations about anything.

"What about you, Venti?"

"I used to be very unsure about it. But for a while now, I've believed in it."

"Only for a while?" I asked, confused. "What made you do it?"

"I'd say... a sudden change of heart. Funny, isn't it?" He leaned his head against me.

"Changes of mind are like swings of emotions for me. At some point you harden up and let it slide."

"Now that you mention it. There were a lot of things I didn't like to accept for some reason. But when you get used to it..." I reflected.

"But you know, I've always believed in incarnation. Even before reincarnation."

It didn't look like Venti was expecting an answer. So I said nothing and painted a face on the sun at the window. But the misting on the window dripped down. Now it looked like the sun was crying with a smile.

When we got out, we went to his house. It was already late and he switched on a lamp. "Shall I turn up the heater?"

"It's okay, I'm not cold. You can leave it off." I then pointed to the embroidery on the living room table.

"Have you got on with it yet? Let me see it."

Excited, I sat with him and he took out the small piece of fabric. A purple flower was visible on it.

"What kind of flower is that?"

"The Hyacinth. But unfortunately you can't see it clearly. I'm not that good. You‘ve got me beat. Look at yours!"

I shook my head with a laugh. "I still can't embroider the rabbits in detail! I'll never get a little pillow like that. Or a tissue..."

"Well, I think you've really improved. If you keep it up, you will!"

I nodded and stroked the small half-finished embroidered fabric.

The purple hyacinth..what does it stand for again?

"Shall we continue? Now that we're at it." He suggested and took a needle in his hand.

We had nothing else to do, so we embroidered together as usual. It was a relaxing hobby for the two of us. Much better than watching TV at my place and making fun of hosts or stupid decisions on blind-date shows. Those were the ones that upset us the most.

A few times my thoughts were interrupted because I pricked my fingers with the needle with my clumsiness. But I didn't prick myself too deeply, which was good. Otherwise he would dramatise and come at me with a first aid kit.

"Listen, about earlier... I wanted to apologise. I forgot that supernatural subjects scare you." Said Venti softly.

"It depends on what kind of subjects..." I corrected, not wanting him to feel guilty.

"(Name), may I ask what exactly are you afraid of?"

What exactly am I afraid of? As soon as night falls and you're alone, I suppose. That's the problem with me.

"During the day, I can work things over just fine. But as soon as it gets dark... then I almost lose control. I can't see anything. I don't know what can suddenly come out of the darkness. And most things... they happen at night. That's how it is in stories. I think that's what it is." I confessed frankly. "And now, add paranormal things."

"I see. Thank you." He says thank you? Now that's an unusual response.

"Uh..here you go." A fitting response for him.

"There's something I actually want to show you." He whispered, lowering the embroidery to his lap and closing his eyes. "But... I don't want to scare you." Is that why he was asking about my fears?

"Why should I be afraid of you? I'm sure you don't want to scare me. What do you want to show me?"

"About this.. I cannot explain to you exactly. But I want to trust you with it!"

"All right... please show me, Venti."

It was something he couldn't show me in his home. He said to me that he should take me for a walk first. In his area, you can see the stars very clearly. The city lights are very far away for that, which makes it possible.

"What about tonight?"

I shook my head. "When I'm outside with you... then I don't feel fear. Only when I'm alone." I then looked at the moon as I walked. Today it was shining brightly and cloudless. We walked along the pebble path. "I find this night particularly beautiful. More beautiful than when I look out of my window. There I only see darkness in the sky."

I put my arms around myself as the wind pulled the cold breeze past us. Then I stopped in front of the forest. If you go deeper in, there's a hill. And far away, you can make out a source of light. That's when you know it's the city. But I've never seen it. Venti has always told me about it. But we never got to go in together.

"You are not alone, I am with you. Please let me show you the background of darkness."

I hesitated and looked at Venti.

"It's like a murder movie, you know."

He sighed and looked to me. "And that's where the problem starts..." I scratched the back of my head, grinning slightly.

"You're right about that. But I trust you." (Name), think of something nice! Otherwise, you'll never make it.

It's a short way, which seemed long to me. He and I walked deeper and deeper through the small forest. But as it turned out, the forest was not so dark. Further back, it was even light.

It was never completely dark. And when I looked up, the sky was still there.

After a few minutes, we arrived at the hill. The view of the city far in the back was actually very wonderful! I don't know if I've ever seen anything so beautiful on a night!

"It's amazing..." I murmured and continued to look.

"Light is stronger than darkness." He said and smiled at me. "Look, you made it! You're here."

I nodded and looked away from him as well. "It's not as bad here as I thought." How could I doubt the night...? Of course, it doesn't mean my fear is completely gone. But a small part..it does. "It's a small step, thank you."

I breathed into my hands to get some warmth off, hence not putting on my gloves.

"Do you come here often?"

"Once in a while, when I need inspiration or to empty my head."

"And what about other people?"

"Unfortunately I'm the only one, I haven't seen anyone else here except myself. But I'm glad you know the place now." He said quietly, looking up at the sky.

Then I remembered that he wanted to show me something. Or was it just this place? Because Venti looked like he had something else in his heart. Something he wants to let go of.

I then turned to him. He was now looking calmly at me. "Was that what you wanted to entrust to me?"

He shook his head. "Not quite. But I think you had a hunch a few times."

"A hunch?" I asked.

"Mmm." He nodded. "Maybe if I show you, it will come back to you?"

"Oh, okay."

He approached me and put his hands down as a sign for me to put my hands on top. When I did so, he held them tightly.

He closed his eyes.

And at that very moment, something happened that I could not explain. Something that no one seems to be able to explain. I couldn't believe my eyes. And I couldn't feel anything else at that moment except the wind.

The wind was getting stronger, but not colder. My whole body warmed up and the branches on the trees rustled louder.

I could have sworn that his eyes lit up slightly when he opened them. His hair swayed and I looked around. He could easily lift himself above the ground, it was as if gravity did not exist.

Then I remembered what he once said:

"With the power of the wind!"

"I only had to swing my arm once and a strong gust of wind can blow everything away. Down to the last lint!"

Wind...

Wind?!

"V-Venti..." I could only get out in a whisper. I couldn't believe anything. What I was seeing wasn't an act.

It was real.

Venti could control the wind.

These thoughts occupied me as we walked back home without words after a while.

He said nothing, I said nothing. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

Words only came when I took off my shoes at his door. Venti beat me to it and walked slowly into the living room. I asked him not to turn on the lights and didn't do it myself. When I entered the living room, he was standing in front of his balcony, which is very wide.

Only the moon gave us light.

I approached Venti and gently put a hand on his right shoulder. After my gesture, he turned to me.

Then he unbuttoned his shirt and I looked at his bare chest where the mark was, which glowed slightly. So it really wasn't a tattoo?

"This..I've always had this." Were the first words he spoke after a while.

I swallowed once. "Do you have any more?" Now my heart was racing as he turned from the balcony again.

"I will show you this one. (Name), are you afraid of me?"

I shook my head.

"You... don't want to go?" He asked in a whisper

"I want to stay with you." I just want to be here, nothing more and no questions asked. What I want now is... to be with him.

At that moment I took him in my arms.

"Please, show me the other m..mar..k..mh."

He released his lips from mine.

"(Name), thank you."

Actually, my heart should be racing again at this moment.

But I felt so numb that the fear and nervousness were not there. We parted our lips, eyes still half open. It was as if time was passing quickly. Although it took a while for us to settle down on the carpet of the living room, not paying attention to other rooms. Probably because there might be an interruption or because it would be uncomfortable. I was already lying face down, hips raised a little.

Small breaths could be heard from him and I pressed my head deeper into the sofa cushion that lay on the floor. I was too embarrassed to look at him. After feeling a slight sting, I clawed my right hand into the fabric of a shirt lying next to the cushions. It was probably his. Maybe it was mine too. But in this darkness, I couldn't really tell. After all, our clothes were somehow spread around us. One could guess what we were doing? Or rather, what we were trying to do.

My unfitting, distracting thoughts about our clothes were interrupted when I felt a stinging sensation inside me again. I pushed a small sound from my lips at that and lifted my head from the pillow.

"H..hyah..!!" It hurts. I don't want to lie. Ahahah..those may not be tears of joy. They're tears of pain. I was about to tell him to go ahead.

Then his grip loosened around my hips, one hand stroked from my hip higher and higher to my head, and with it a slight strand of hair was brushed from my face. He leaned down to me and rested his chin on my shoulder, his chest pressing against my back. I whimpered softly.

"(Name), that hurts you, doesn't it?" A whisper. I swallowed once and nodded, still feeling a little hazy. „Please, try a-again..“ I think right now I started to feel nervous.

"I don't want to stop..not at this moment." I confessed embarrassed, turning my head to the other side, giving him more room to brush his lips against my neck in a comforting way. Wouldn't I feel connected to him then? Now that we came this far..we didn‘t even properly start..

"There's always a next time, agreed? Besides, there are other ways~"

"Other... Ways?" I tried to look over my shoulder at him. But my head isn't that mobile.

Venti slowly detached himself from me and I turned onto my back. In shame, I still hid my bust with my arms. He looked down at me and pouted.

"Exactly! I don't want to cause you any pain." He now had a cat-like grin on his face and put his hand in front of his lips. "Or is (Name) that desperate..?"

I smiled at him instead of being teased. "If you say so." He's right, after all. There are other ways to show your love. Just being with him might be enough. Intimacy... yes. It's not about being intimate only in that way!

I sat up carefully and at that moment he surprised me with a deepening kiss. It felt good to put my arms around him. It soothed me and I had not thought that direct physical contact, skin on skin, could feel like this.

As our kiss ended, I noticed that I could see his face a little more clearly. At first I thought I had got used to the darkness. But it turned out that morning was coming very soon. He seemed to have noticed this and looked towards his balcony. "Oh dear. Have we been up this late?"

"Looks like it."

We looked at each other again and almost snorted. We were aware that we were going to sleep through the morning. So we lay down again. On the carpet, of course.

As long as there were blankets and pillows, we didn't mind sleeping on the floor. It was surprisingly not uncomfortable. He pulled the blanket over us and intertwined one hand with mine.

"You know...I'm relieved we didn't..“ I murmured.

He looked at me innocently. I sighed.

"I didn't..prepare anything." I managed to get out awkwardly. He blinked a few times. Then his face changed to one of realisation. You could read the "Oh!" clearly from his expression. Then his eyes sparkled with excitement. Before he could say anything, I interrupted him.

"Hey. Just.. don't comment." My cheeks grew warm and I stared at the ceiling. Never would I have thought of not thinking of risks.

He chuckled softly. "I'll see you at noon then?" He then asked with his eyes closed.

"A new way of saying goodnight?" Maybe it was too late to say goodnight now. And a good morning didn't sound any better.

"You could say that."

"I'll see you at noon then, Venti."

But as it turned out, I was the one who fell asleep. What I didn't know was that Venti was still awake, brushing little strands of hair out of my face.

Then he looked at the window with an unreadable look.

"I am very sorry, (Name)." He murmured softly to himself.

Masterlist

Part 12

#no talk to me I‘m embarrassed #:D #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #romance #fanfic #venti x reader #love #mentions of nudity #kisses #kissing venti #risk #suggestive content #big reveal #lime #venti x reader lime #guys I wrote IT

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noelledeltarune · 7 months

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EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

#talk tag #IT KILLS ME. REIGEN IS NOT MOB'S DAD. HE HAS A DAD. INGO IS NOT AKARI'S DAD. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN ANYONE HEAR ME #(not even necessarily to say that ingo is in his late 20s but still)#(even if he was a 30-40-50 year old no matter how old he is no fucking teenager is gonna call some guy they met as a 15 year old ''dad'')#GAI IS NOT A FATHER FIGURE TO ROCK LEE HE WAS LIKE 13 WHEN HE WAS BORN! PLEASE!!!!!!!!#one time i saw that a person wrote a fic where mario was like a father figure to luigi.#they are TWIN BROTHERS.#not what this about but idk where else i can say anything about this.#just horrible #also sometimes someone is just An Older Friend like no familial relationship just a friend or acquaintance who is a lot older than you

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the-nefarious-vampire · 2 months

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as an aroace, im particularly dangerous, because i wont fuck or marry. i only know how to kill.

#aroace #aromantic #asexual #asexuality #ace #aro #im so glad you guys are enjoying this stupid post i made at work #okay i wrote that at 3000 notes but what the FUCK is happening #10000 notes on this no effort fmk post and not one aspec i know irl #dgmw im still very happy that yall are enjoying this post but also like. come hang out with meeeeee :(

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infraredss · 5 months

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never gonna argue with an butch lesbian. whatever u say handsome. wanna make out

#lesbian #butch lesbian #wlw #sapphic #lgbtq #shitpost #im technically butch but im also in love with butches #i wrote this from a butch 4 butch perspective but femmes and others who appreciate butches r so welcome #butch lesbians should kiss me on the mouth #i love you guys

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buppkizz · 5 months

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mostly old engiespy doodles, kinda drew most of these for my eyes only but changed me mind today

#holy shit i didnt know u could upload so many pics on tumblr #tf2 #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #team fortress 2 #engiespy #i wrote out a bunch of crap but nvm lol. i have many thots abt crossfaction in particular...they are fun 2 me #practical espionage #????#i love happy sunshine eng but i also really love playing w his bitchier side too...all tf2 guys contain multitudes

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ao3-crack · 5 months

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(x)

#archive of our own #ao3 stuff #ao3 quotes #archive of our own quotes #fanfic #fanfic quotes #funny #ao3 #ao3 titles #a story that started with insomnia and drugs #for me. not the story.#I didn’t know freddie mercury wrote fanfic guys #it tracks tho

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doginacafe · 28 days

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THIS IS NOT A BIT THEY'RE ACTUALLY REAL

(thanks to my buddies Lucanimations and SpykerFX for helping w some animation and music! theyre not on tumblr)

I'm so incredibly happy to announce TWO new plushies!!!! It's been an absolute blast working with makeship again on making an Eddie plush and a brand new Duncan plushie!! They'll be available to pre-order until april 20th, then they're gone forever!!!

You can pre-order them here!! :D

#duncan and eddie #plushies #makeship #guys theyre SO cute #also i wrote really funny descriptions so if nothing else #click on the pages just to see what i wrote #this is maybe why i started posting again KSDLFJKDS but we don't talk about that

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

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Danny: Hi, would you like to buy some cookies to support my education at Gotham Academy?

Bruce: Yes of course! How much are they?

Danny: ten bucks a box!

Bruce: Put me down for 50 boxes.

Danny: Really!?

Bruce: I have plenty of mouths to feed, trust me. By the way, chum, how did you get past the gate security?

Danny: eh, it wasn't too hard. Honestly sir, it felt like it was more design to keep people in then keep people out.

Damian from the second floor: I WILL NOT BE CONTAINED!

Bruce nods, ignoring Damian: Thank you for the feedback, my boy. I'll have it updated, but please feel free to come by anytime. I love cookies!

Bruce in the Batcave after Danny leaves: How did an uncoordinated nerd get past my systems!?

Tim: I don't know, but I've seen him around school. Get this, he's an engineering prodigy, but his family makes too much to qualify for a scholarship. They also don't make enough to afford his schooling, so he does odd jobs for cash. He creates gadgets for our classmates. That's a rouge in the making if I ever have seen one.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #From a fic I never wrote #Danny is in that weird middle but almost lower class where there is no support #So he doing what he can to pay his education #Meanwhile the bats are suspcious #IDK why Danny is in Gotham #He just a little guy getting by #Bruce was screaming on the inside while being Brucie

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aziraphale-is-a-cat · 7 months

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DPXDC Watch Out, He Bites

Danny did his best to be the best big brother possible, he helped his little brother learn and train to be the best, even if he knew what it meant. He protected Damian through thick and thin, and as he stared down at the corpse of his grandfather's enforcer in the sand he knew he'd just signed his own death warrant.

Danny had seen it coming for a while, even as the oldest son he'd never been what grandfather had expected of him, too soft and moral. He suspected that was why mother had Damian in the first place, to replace him as heir- and he never held it against his little brother. But stepping in the way of Grandfather's punishment for Damian would not go unnoticed, this would be the last way he would protect his little brother for a very long time.

Daniel turned to Damian, tears coming to his eyes as he wipes the blood and viscera off his hands and out from under his nails. "I can't stay." He saw his little brother's hands ball up as he started to shake. "I'm sorry, if you ever need a place to hide, then come find me."

Years later, Damian struggles to find purpose after the death of his father, and rather than be Robin to Dick's Batman he goes on a cross country road trip to find his big brother who would do anything to protect him.

But when Bruce comes back from being stuck in the time stream, Damian introduces him to his eldest son. They get along fine at first, but then some goon tries to kidnap Damian Wayne for the ransom money, and Danny gets there first.

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tubbytarchia · 3 months

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The bloodied moon cried for you, but you only heard the stars The weeping moon then bled for you, but you only saw her scars

#I was too motivated to draw this to not outright finish it. More Pearl art upon ye god. oops! All Pearl!#pearlescentmoon #pearlescentmoon fanart #trafficblr #tilly #double life fanart #the blood seeping from the moon is turning her fit scarlet <3 #cw blood #wolf + moon + Pearl imagery... too good to pass up on #god so ill #SO ILL #I LOVE DRAWING ANIMALS SO MUCH #GUYS I LOVE IT SO MUCH #WOLVES. WOLVES!!!!#Wolves are overrated and I like most animals more than that but THEYRE STILL FUN TO DRAW #sorry I wrote the. little poem thing wrong so I privated this for a bit teehee Im a failure #tubby art

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erwinsvow · 2 months

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You creep carefully into Rafe’s bedroom, pushing the already-open door gently with your palm. Your eyes dart around, worried he’s going to be just around the corner, but you’re greeted with nothing—just the empty space that belongs to Rafe.

How exactly did you get yourself into this? It had started a few hours ago—at least that’s what you thought. You didn’t have any clue what Sarah and her new friends were up to, you were just over for a pre-planned girls night that was dismissed the second you walked into Tannyhill. Instead, Sarah asks for a favor, one that you deny almost immediately.

“You’ll be in and out, it won’t take more than a minute-”

“I am not sneaking into Rafe’s room for you, Sarah. What if he-he catches me? Finds me in there? What am I gonna say?”

“He’s not gonna be home later, I promise. It’ll be a second, and he’s always liked you most out of all my friends so he won’t even care-”

Your face flushes at the very sentence. Her brother, Rafe, the one that you’ve only interacted with on chance occasions, the one who makes your heartbeat speed up anytime he’s in the vicinity, that very Rafe, has always liked you?

You’re too caught up in that thought and its implications to even question Sarah anymore. Her new friends—Pogue friends, ones that you don’t know and aren’t sure how long they’ve known her—linger by the door. They seem eager to make sure that you agree.

You’re being moved around the board like a chess piece but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s shallow, you know, as one thought circulates through your mind, body, and bloodstream—Rafe has always liked you.

A hazy, dreamy mist settles over you. You agree to Sarah, feeling increasingly stupid as you settle into the living room and keep your eyes on the television. She left with her friends, and when Rafe comes down, you’re supposed to tell him you’re waiting for his sister. Once he leaves, you need to sneak into his bedroom to find a map they seem to desperately need. One of the boys suggests it’ll be in his sock drawer.

“It’s not a porn magazine, JJ, why would it be there-”

“Oh, um, I don’t know, just that it’s the number one male hiding spot-” “What studies are you basing this off of?”

"A little thing called the study of life, Pope-”

You had interrupted them yourself, reassuring that you’ll look in his dresser and his desk.

But now, walking into Rafe’s bedroom, you're losing all your nerve. You’ve thought about this before—you’d be lying to yourself to deny it. Any girl who has a best friend with a cute older brother has too. In the summers you sleep at Tannyhill more often than your own house, but you still could have never imagined this would be the reason you’re in Rafe’s room for the first time.

The house is silent, just like Sarah had told you. Mr. and Mrs. Cameron out at the country club, Wheezie at the beach, Sarah supposedly with you but actually with those Pogues. She says Rafe is gone too, driving around somewhere with his friends, and you believe her without a second thought.

But you do have a second thought, and it's the fact that this is so beyond wrong.

Looking through Rafe’s belongings with your eyes, your hands start to tremble at the idea of touching something of his without his permission. You want to swallow your nerves to do this for your friend, but you hesitate, hands hovering over the drawer to his dresser.

For a second, you want to puke, worried that you’ll open this drawer to find porn magazines like John B had said, or worse—photos of one of his girls that you really don’t want to see.

Your shaking hands pull open the top-most drawer, but everything calms down once it’s open. Besides for white socks and plaid boxers, there’s nothing in there. Your shoulders relax, your knees feeling weak.

Then you wonder for a second—why were you so worried about finding evidence of some other girl in his bedroom? Your mind spins briefly, worried at how attached you really are to Sarah’s brother, someone who’s never spoken to you more than a handful of times. A million thoughts run through your brain, all of them about Rafe and none of them noticing the way his bedroom door has just opened wide.

“Looking for something?” The timber of Rafe’s voice hits your ears and you freeze, probably looking like something out of a cartoon, shoulders tense, eyes wide. You’re still facing his dresser, and you really, really don’t want to turn, but you do, and then you wish you hadn’t.

Rafe’s dripping wet—damp hair sticking to his forehead, a towel around his waist and droplets of water glittering on his abs. He’s looking at you like he never has before. Your eyes are focused on everything else—the bare skin of his chest, his huge arms, the blue color of his towel.

“My eyes are up here, kid.”

Like a deer caught in headlights, you turn your gaze up to lock eyes. You’re terrified—he has to be angry, no, furious. You’re practically a stranger to him, a stranger invading his privacy. But when you finally take in his expression, it’s not angry. He looks amused, a smirk playing at his lips while he takes you in, standing before him like a child about to be reprimanded for touching something that doesn’t belong to them.

“I-I…” you trail off, swallowing hard, still staring at Rafe.

“You, you?” he mocks. You think you’re going to start crying but no tears well up—yet. “What’re you looking for?” he asks it seriously, his tone shifting.

You’ve never spoken to Rafe enough to notice, but he’s incredibly domineering. You shrink just from his gaze, while he closes the door and walks closer to you.

“Um, I-” You stop yourself short.

“Looking for trouble, huh?” He says it like it’s a joke, but you know he’s not kidding. Your head shakes, trying to convince him you’re not, but it’s not much use.

He’s not very far from you now, maybe another foot and you could smell the scent of his soap, another few inches and you could feel the heat radiating off of his bare body.

You realize how you must look right now, wearing a tiny dress because of the heat outside but now feeling goosebumps prick along your arms. Your bare feet rest on his carpet while your hands feel clammy from how scared you are.

“I, uh, I needed socks.” You look down at your feet and he does too, looking back up at the same time.

“Socks? From me?”

“Couldn’t find Sarah’s. She needs to do laundry.”

“So you came in here to get mine?”

“I-I’ll bring them back. Washed. Promise.” Your gaze is now dying to avoid his, looking all around his room and then turning back to the drawer to take out a pair.

You feel a wet hand on your arm, turning you back around at full force, his balled up socks falling from your hand as you stare Rafe in the eyes. He must be able to tell from the way your body shakes in his grip, how your eyelids are fluttering fast, how scared you are.

“Don’t lie to me, kid. I won’t like it.” You suck in a sharp breath. A few moments pass.

“I’m not lying, Rafe. Promise.”

You actually don’t know it happens—ending up with his towel on the floor and your sundress right next to it, tangled up in the sheets, your body folded in half with Rafe pounding into you. He grips your cheeks and fucks you like you’re his, like he owns your pussy and every other part of you. It goes on for so long you lose track, forgetting everything else but how to say Rafe’s name, remembering nothing but how he sounded groaning into your ear. He kisses you, hard and wet, and that’s when you cum for the third—fourth? fifth? you’ve lost track—time. He cums too—inside you, and normally you think you’d maybe have an issue with that, but since you were the one begging for it, you don’t think you’re allowed to say anything in the way of a complaint.

Rafe rolls off of you a little bit later, after you’ve had a chance to catch your breath. You think he’s gonna tell you to get out so you try to get up yourself, trying to balance on trembling legs, when he puts his hand on your waist and steadies you back onto the bed.

“What’d you need? You should sit.” You look up at him, surprised. He doesn’t like it. “Water?” You nod, and he pulls on some sweatpants and forgoes a shirt, walking out and closing the door softly behind him.

You get comfortable under Rafe’s sheets, pulling them up to cover yourself and body sinking into his bed. You reach out to find your phone, which has somehow ended up on the nightstand even though you don’t recall putting it there. There’s a few new messages.

Sarah: Did you go in yet?

Sarah: I think he left, go now!!

Then one from thirty minutes after that.

Sarah: Did you find it?? Call me!!

You reply quickly, setting the phone down when you hear Rafe’s hand on the doorknob.

Sorry, didn’t find anything. Had to go, I’ll see you tomorrow.

#this format is so fun! do you guys prefer tiny text or normal tho?#i hope everyone likes this one! i wrote it quick #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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ghostpunkrock · 4 months

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favorite scene from the entire game. harry says "but kim 🥺our bond 🥺" and kim says "ugh fine 🙄 but only because we do look really cool"

#disco elysium #if I wrote a thesis on kim kitsuragi's psychology this scene would feature heavily #like my guy. you know you want to. you just need a little nudge

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

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I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things post s2 AU #stranger things #this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k #is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go!#eddiesteve #solar wrote

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