✨🤍 some steddie softness for @thefreakandthehair's birthday, i hope it's the very best so far! 🤍✨(please please your day comes first, read this whenever you have time and space to breathe 🤍)
Eddie is not a religious man — far from it, actually. But there are a few things that make him believe in higher powers. In angels. In destiny and luck and a love so strong it could conquer everything.
This very moment is one of them.
Stevie, soft and sleepy beside him in the back of the car as Nancy is driving, the dim light of the passing street lamps painting his face in hues of gold like the light itself favours Steve Harrington, caressing his features with the softest of shadows.
He’s beautiful. Ethereal. Perfectly angelic with his eyes closed, his whole body turned towards Eddie in the warmth of the car.
It takes Eddie’s breath away, his heart taking up space where before there were his lungs and ribcage, growing in size until he feels like he is about to burst. And even then he keeps looking, staring at that pretty face that looks so at peace with the whole world right now. Eddie has never seen Steve like this, but now he understands why people start wars. Why people defy gods and death itself to be with their one true love. Why Orpheus looked back.
He understands. Because Steve, his Stevie, warm and safe and perfectly fine in the backseat of a car? That is everything. He doesn’t even need to kiss or touch so long as he just gets to look. And be. Oh, to be at the same time that Steve is.
That might just be life’s greatest gift to him.
A tiny sigh falls from Steve’s lips and Eddie really, really might be about to burst.
“Hey, angel,” he whispers, because moments like this aren’t made for anything but hushed words, their truths too heavy, too sincere for the world to hear and keep on spinning. He doesn’t need the world to spin as long as there is Steve.
“Hi,” Steve whispers back, his eyes still closed but the smile lighting up, luring Eddie in like he is but a moth drawn to the flame.
Eddie leans in and rests his forehead against Steve’s, his hand coming up to cradle a light-kissed cheek. Steve leans into it, following Eddie’s hand like maybe they are twin stars pulling each other closer until there will be an explosion of light and creation. Steve nuzzles against his palm and leans further into Eddie’s body until they share the same breath — but still it’s not enough.
Eddie wants to say so many things now that their hands are entangled, their soft exhales mixing. But after a while he notices that Steve is humming before gently singing along to the song coming quietly from the speakers.
“Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze. Take your time, make it slow. Andante, Andante. Just let the feeling grow.”
Eddie knows the song, recognises it instantly, and his breath gets stuck in his throat once more. Because he has a secret. He loves it. He has imagined for the longest time that one day, someone would make it his song. Sing it for him, to him.
He’s never told anyone because he has a reputation to uphold and more than enough metal music to listen to, but of course Steve wouldn’t care about his secrets being secret, and just oh so casually make his deepest, most private of dreams come true.
He’s an angel, that one. A hero. Myths and fairy tales should be woven around that heart of his, folklore speaking of his name until history itself wouldn’t dare to forget. No one can convince Eddie otherwise. Not in that moment, not with Steve singing so quietly, so gently, so adoringly.
I think I love you. I think I can’t ever stop, not when I’ve seen you like this. Not when you’ve just shown me what life can be about, what it should be about. Gods, I love you and love you and love you.
That’s what he wants to say.
But all that comes out is a marvelled, “Shit, Stevie.”
It has the desired effect of a huffed breath, an even wider smile, and Steve cuddling further into Eddie’s side, eyes still closed. Eddie brushes a kiss to Steve’s forehead and feels like maybe his love can make it into the fairy tale, too.
It will. Oh, it will, when Steve finally lifts his head from Eddie’s shoulder and looks at him through hooded eyes, all soft and sleepy and safe. A moment passes like this and Eddie can’t breathe, maybe he can never breathe again — but it only lasts until Steve slowly, so very slowly begins to lean in to claim Eddie’s lips with a kiss so gentle it could bring him back from the dead.
Eddie kisses Steve back just as slowly, because in moments like this there is no rush, no hurry. There’s only them, there’s only this. Only a kiss until there is another.
And with Steve, there is always another.
Nancy smiles as she is taking the long way to Steve’s house, rounding Loch Nora twice because she knows how comfy Steve gets in cars at night when he doesn’t have to drive and there is soft music playing.
Eddie kisses her goodbye on the forehead, fully aware of what she’s done. He doesn't tell her about the sun and the myths and all the wars he would start for Steve.
Nights like this are not meant for telling anyone about them. They can hardly be believed as it is. They can only be lived, hand in loving hand.
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in the past week or so ive seen a lot of people posting about how there's this oversexualization of trans girls on the site, and I gotta agree, there are way too many people (including other trans women!) who act like we're all dtf 24/7 or always super kinky and horny. I've been tired of that stereotype for ages and i am saying this as a rather sexual trans girl myself...
...but I think people are overcorrecting a bit now, and are starting to veer into "trans women shouldnt be talked about sexually / need to be shielded from it" territory. and, to me, that's really dangerous, because outside of some queer spaces - and even within them- the sexuality of trans girls is heavily scrutinized, as is attraction to us. as much as I dislike certain aspects of the memes and jokes that kickstarted the stereotypes, I'm kinda grateful for them as well. girldick jokes helped with my bottom dysphoria, voice kink shit helped me like my voice, and the whole "tgirl tummy tuesday" thing gave me a lot of confidence in my body where I hated it before. I think this open appreciation of trans sexiness has done a lot for both me and others on tumblr.
again, obviously its got its problems - people end up assuming every trans girl is horny, or only spread positivity if its related to sex with us, and of course the people who do have dysphoria from the things that are being sexualized are left out (like those the "girls without dicks are like angels without wings" memes, ugh, feels icky every time). and on the note of comparing tgirls to angels, we also started getting treated like we're ethereal fertility goddesses and that t4t sex was some inherently sacred ritual. spoiler alert, trans girls are normal-ass people and t4t sex can be holy for the participants but its generally a pretty normal thing to do as well
coming back to the "don't sexualize trans girls" posts now, I think they were initially going in the right direction, but at this point I'm starting to raise an eyebrow at more than a few of them. I'm not gonna whip out the "youre a sex hating puritan if you post about it" accusation because that is obviously wrong but again, I think people are definitely overcorrecting and starting to turn this into a (false) dichotomy when it's not. its a complex topic and each individual trans woman will feel differently about it.
(I feel like the internet just erases any nuance in favor of a two-sided, highly polarized flamewar with unrealistic views on both sides. actually i wouldn't even say this is a super-nuanced discussion because its really not that hard to say "fetishization is bad, but so is suppression of sexuality". will this post just end up being a void scream and people will continue drawing lines between one side and the other? probably. but I am a stubborn bitch and I have hope that we can be reasonable.)
anyways I'll close this off by saying that I wrote this between around 1:30 and 2 AM on terrible sleep the night before, that I hope what I said is coherent enough, and that I will keep being a trans girl who is openly sexual, gets horny over other trans women, and is proud to be transsexy as fuck. I will keep being critical of jokes and trends and memes that stereotype us, even from our own community. I will keep being angry at how poorly us trans folks are treated with regards to our sex lives, bodies, and relationships between the two. I will keep loving and lusting over trans women without fetishizing them. And I will keep doing all of these til the day I die.
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i’m kinda sick rn so just some brainrot of FL when reader falls sick. The poor baby doesn’t know what to do, Childe himself rarely ever gets sick so he doesn’t know what to do to take care of reader.
I’m just imagining him sitting beside reader’s bed whining softly as he watches them sleep. He sees how they seem really uncomfy but he can’t do anything to help his beloved because he’s so clueless on what to do.
i think later FL would just let Childe take control of their body so that he can take care of you
-sleepy anon
in honor of both of us not being at 100%, here is some cozy moth comfort!!
you shift when you hear soft, sad whimpers beside you, turning over and opening your eyes just a crack to see Foul Legacy staring at you, claws worrying the bedsheets. he lets out a concerned whine, leaning forward and nuzzling your cheek with his as you grasp one of his talons with your hand, giving him a weak but reassuring smile. Legacy trills sadly, closing his pretty blue eye and allowing the Abyssal magic to fall and melt back into Childe, who exhales deeply and laces your fingers with his. he fusses over you for the rest of the day, tucking your blankets in around your chin and bringing you hot soup- his mother's recipe! he swears that he didn't put any weird fish in it like he usually does, only sitting down on the bed and watching to make sure you eat every last bit. Childe insists that he doesn't GET sick, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and tenderly petting your hair. you idly begin poking his freckles and the Eleventh Harbinger just chuckles, a wonderful rumbling sound from his chest, and brushes the tip of his nose against yours
it's midnight the next time you wake up, the outside world hushed and silent apart from the chirping of cicadas- but your room isn't quiet, the opposite, actually, with how deeply Foul Legacy is purring. his arms are wrapped firmly around your waist, the consistent purrs soothing your aching head, and you attempt to snuggle closer despite how your eyes burn and your breath comes out weak and shaky. Legacy grumbles in his sleep and pulls you closer, his armor cool against your warm skin and claws gently grasping your shirt. for a moment it feels as if all the pain fades away, your head against Foul Legacy's chest as you lean up and peck his cheek before closing your eyes again, the soft, constant purring and perfect temperature lulling you to sleep once more <3
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aki, who comes home from work really late and utterly exhausted, but he instantly feels at ease once he sees you sleeping on the couch, softly smiling to himself. you must have fallen asleep waiting for him to come home, he thinks. it fills him with so much joy to know that someone — that you were here, looking forward to when he would return home safely.
aki, who scoops you up and carries you to bed. he's as gentle as possible when he tucks you in, placing the most delicate kiss on your forehead when he's done. he's quiet, trying his hardest not to wake you as he rustles through his dresser and changes. the mattress shifts when he settles down in bed next to you.
aki, who gets extra cuddly when he's half-asleep, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close and tightly. his body is warm, and where his chest presses against your back, you can feel the soothing drum of his heartbeat.
aki, who missed you so badly while he was away that it made his heart ache. he thought about you the entire time he was working, counting down the seconds until he'd get to come home. now that he's here, he finally feels at peace. when he drifts off, his head is filled with nothing but sweet, hazy dreams of you.
aki, who falls asleep so deeply when he's in your presence that he accidentally sleeps through all of his alarms (you don't wake him up, he's been working so hard recently, he deserves to get some much needed rest).
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