#it's just five pages of freaking notes

[eliluvschan]

Shadow Selfies

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 971

warnings: few curse words & cutie Channie

genre: fluff

a/n: am i writing instead of finishing an essay for my deadline on thursday? no im not👀

i was walking my to my best friend Chan’s house. he’s got i don’t know what hair colour cause the man dyes his hair every two weeks now? i kinda lost count.

we’ve known each other for the past five years, but the thing is i’ve always liked him more than a friend.

i like him. a lot.

i rang the bell and Jessica, Chan’s mother, appeared in the doorway.

“hey dear, Chan’s in his room upstairs.”

“thanks, Mama Bahng.” i always call Jessica Mama Bahng, it’s a habit i picked up from hanging out a lot at Chan’s house.

she smiled as we both walk trough the hallway. “are you hungry?” she asked me.

“a little.”

“come on. i just bought these.” she said, putting a batch of brownies in front of me.

“alright then, but just one.” i smile.

“sure.” she turned away.

i took a piece and ate it.

“oh, this is amazing.”

“i know right? it’s a new bakery called Felix’s Goodies, maybe you and Chan can pick some up for the others?” she suggested.

“sure thing!”

“eomma, is Y/n here already?” i heard Chan calling from upstairs.

“maybe later.” i smiled and got up from where i was sitting, and made my way down the hall and upstairs. i knocked on the second door on the left.

“if it’s Hannah, go away. if it’s Y/n, come in please!” he called from inside.

“ugh, rude!” Hannah called as she got out of her room to go downstairs.

i laughed at her comment as i opened the door to the usual shirt strewn floor and messy bed.

“hey, where are you?” i called.

“oh, hey there cutie.” he said emerging from the side and pulling on a black hoodie. he stopped in front of me. “what’s up?”

“nothing much. you ready?”

“ready for what?”

“science!”

“oh yeah. come on.”

so we sat down on the bed and flicked through our books and opened chapter seven of biology. disease’s & microbes.

“i don’t understand this shit.” he said after five minutes of poring over the same page. he scanned the green page and then looked at me.

“what is that hard about learning the freaking definition of a compost?” i asked after explaining the compost again.

“it bounces off of my head. how did you do it?”

“don’t ask.”

he laughed. omg his laugh.

“okay. one more time?” i asked.

“okay. and then we do something else.”

i rolled my eyes. “sure.”

he smiled and sat a little straighter.

“when rotten plants, are piled onto a heap, the bacteria of microbes act on it, and produce an enzyme that turns into any sort of liquid and then they feed on it. this stupid and disgusting process is called a compost. got it?” i asked.

“the crappy heap of plant shit is called compost?” he joked.

i laughed. “yeah. now Bio degradable’s?”

“we’re doing something else.” he told me.

“you’re going to fail the test!”

“no, i’m not.” he said.

“yeah, you are. you’re not paying attention!”

“look, i’ve done as much as i can. and just one def. of bio- whatever’s left. it won’t hurt to leave one thing. and besides, you need a break too.

i thought for a moment. true, i do need a break.

“why are you trying so hard to make me study?” he asked.

“cause friends watch out for each other, and remember Mr. Lee said he’s gonna change out seats so we can’t pass noted or talk at all.” i reminded him.

“aw, you’re doing this so we can talk? sweet!” he smiled.

“shit up.” i said, returning to the book.

“hey, look at the shadows!” he said.

i looked and saw our shadows on the wall, very clear and sharp.

click!

Chan took out his phone and took a picture. soon, we were posing madly and taking pictures in the mirror. then Chan held up his index finger. i put mine across it and made an x. i took the picture.

he held his palm in the air. i calmed mine against it, forming a weird, but beautiful shadow of two hands joined in mid-air.

both of us took the picture. then he curved his hand into a half-heart shape. i curved mine, completing the heart. we took the picture.

i looked up at him, he looked down, not smiling. his eyes full of passion. he stared at my lips, then he leaned in and the next thing i knew his lips were moving against mine and his arms were no longer suspended in the air but gripping my waist.

a soft sigh and a click!

a camera snapping a picture, and we jumped and broke apart. Chan looked around. his mother was standing in the doorway. she quickly turned around and walked away.

“i, uh, i should get going.” i blushed and turned away.

“no, don’t go.” he whispered, holding me back.

“goodbye, Chris.” i moved away. but i felt a tug at my fingers. i looked back. our fingers were still locked. Chan smiled at them, but i hastened to pull them away.

i made my way home, still thinking about the kiss.

i got a text from Chan as soon as i was inside.

Channie😩��️‍🩹: i made mom delete the picture.

me: ok, thanks.

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: but i still have it ;)

me: what? why?

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: our first kiss.

me: can u send it to me too?

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: [1 attachment]

me: well…

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: it’s uhh, nice.

me: yeah.

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: will you be my girlfriend Y/n? i mean i’ve liked you forever and i know you kissed me back and we are friends- i’ll take you out this weekend if that suits you?

me: uhh…

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: what?

me: nothing

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: then?

me: yes! :D

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: i had fun.

me: excuse me?

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: excused, girlfriend ;) i was talking about the shadow selfies and science of course.

me: oh yeah. me too >_<

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: so tomorrow night?

me: sure. goodnight boyfriend 🤍

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: goodnight girlfriend :)

~

#skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fluff #bang chan texts #bang chan fanfic #bang chan scenarios #christopher bang

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 6

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Even though he's expecting company, Eddie still jumps and yelps when his front door flies open without so much as a knock, revealing Dustin and Will.

"I know I said to let yourselves in, but a warning knock would have been nice," Eddie shoots them a glare, not bothering to stand from the couch where he'd been pretending to watch whatever terrible daytime movie was playing.

"Sorry," Will apologizes sheepishly while Dustin just laughs.

"Which of your moms dropped you off? If it's Claudia, I'm filing a complaint about how you were raised."

"Har har," Dustin says, swinging his backpack off and knelling down to unzip and dig into it. "We biked here."

"Lucky you, then. The complaint will wait."

Dustin wrestles a blanket from his backpack. Unwrapping it reveals Steve, hair rumpled but otherwise unharmed. "Alright. Delivered safely. We gotta go meet El and Mike now but we'll see you on Saturday, right?"

Eddie sets Steve on the couch, angled towards the TV. "Yeah. I get the feeling if I don't show for the barbeque that Joyce will show up here and drag me there by my ear."

"She would," Will confirms with an easy shrug. The boys turn to leave before Will exclaims, "Oh! Almost forgot!" before digging into his pocket for something, turning around to give it to Eddie.

"What?"

"El and Steve spoke again. He had a lot of things to say. I spent a good portion of the last three days writing down everything as El repeated it to me. This is your letter," he says, having successfully pulled out what looked to be a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Oh," Eddie takes it, and realizes it's not just one folded piece of paper, but three. "Wow."

"Seems you are Steve's second favorite," Dustin grins at him from the doorway.

"You are first, I assume?"

"No. Robin is. She got five pages."

That tracks, actually. Eddie's not surprised Robin got the most pages.

Soon enough, the boys are off and Eddie returns to the couch, pulling his legs up to sit crisscross. "Alright, Stevie, let's see what you have to say."

He unfolds the pages completely and is met with Will's now familiar penmanship scrawled across the sheets of wide rule paper that has clearly been ripped from a composition notebook. He's seen Will's handwriting plenty over this last year, quickly scribbling notes during DnD sessions and on the little item cards Will makes himself to hand out when he DMs.

Will's handwriting isn't always the neatest, but this looks like Will took time, wanted his writing to be legible. Flipping through the papers he sees it is two pages, front and back, of a letter, and the third page is a list of questions in a different, neater handwriting. He gets the feeling that Will probably didn't paraphrase anything. How many people got letters? How much of Will and El's time was devoted to doing just this?

Eddie feels emotional over this, misty-eyed and a lump in his throat, and he hasn't even read the damn letter yet.

"Shit, Stevie, do you even realize how loved you are?" Eddie asks out loud, turning to look at Porcelain Steve like he might answer him this time. Blank hazel eyes stare forward. Eddie shakes his head, to clear away his thoughts, and gets to reading. Not out loud, because he doesn't want Steve to hear how wet his voice will sound.

Eddie,

I guess the first thing I want to say is thank you. I was kind of freaking out when I first woke up like this. It was calming, that day on the lawn, after Robin and Nancy found me. You were so chill and just chatted my ear off like you would have if I were, like, there. I mean, there there and not like, doll-there, if you get what I mean.

Shit, man, being stuck like this would have been a hell of a lot worse without you, I'm certain. Everyone's been great, of course, and, like, no offense meant, Will and El, but you act most normal. Helps me feel, well, I don't know how, exactly. Describing emotions is not something I'm like, good at. Robin's great, too, but she catastrophizes, you know? And since I can't speak back, she can get herself pretty worked up about this and I hate that. Hate that I can't do anything to help her.

Shit. This isn't your issue. Don't include that. No, wait, do. Sorry, El. (It is here, off in the margin, that Will has added 'I wrote everything word for word. Enjoy the asides to El and me.) Hanging out with you helps her, I think. She seems less anxious on days we spend with you. So, I guess, I also want to thank you for that. For being there for Robin when I can't.

Eddie has to pause there because he had no idea. Robin has been a grounding force for him this whole time. He had no idea he was doing the same for her. She never said, or let on... well, that was probably her goal and now Steve's spilled the beans.

This is getting easier to say, even if I still don't know how to feel about the other two people who are going to be privy to everything said, or I guess from your end, written here. (Here, Will has transcribed a conversation they seemed to have had in the middle of writing this up.) Oh. He means us. - El Yes. Don't worry Steve, we'll do our best to forget everything you've said once it's written down. - Will Steve laughed and says thanks. - El I appreciate that but- well, being honest there's some things I want to say but I don't want anyone else to hear. Those conversations are better left face to face, anyway. So, uhh, what else did I want to say?

Oh! Yeah, I told Robin she could drive around the Bimmer, so she can have a car while I'm- so she doesn't have to bike everywhere but knowing her she probably won't take me up on that offer. Maybe you can talk her into it? Or, maybe she'll be willing to drive your van around and you can take the bimmer.

"Jesus, Stevie, can't you just be okay with existing?" Eddie says it under his breath and tenses instantly. For a moment, he forgot that Steve was right there on the couch with him, could hear him. Now he has to explain himself because Steve's already heard, and without the context of how Eddie really means those words, they can sound judgmental. "Shit. Sorry. I just read the part about your car and, dude, you just don't know how to not try and be helpful, huh? I bet it's destroying you on the inside that you can't do anything. But Steve, you gotta know, we don't care about you because you're useful."

Steve, of course, can't reply, so Eddie goes back to the letter.

Uh, what else was there? Oh! Yeah! I don't get migraines here. Or, in this body? Or, whatever it is. I haven't had one since this happened. Also, no hearing issues. Though I find myself wishing to be completely deaf sometimes. I get that Max can listen to Kate Bush for a week straight, but I'd like a little variety. God, what I wouldn't give to listen to the Top 40 again. Don't say anything, Munson. I can already see your judgmental face at my music taste. Unlike you, I have the ability to like multiple types of music. The Top 40 AND that one song from, uhh, shit. Might not have migraines or hearing issues at the moment, but the memory is still as it was. Which means it is shit. That one song by that metal band where their name sounds like it's metal? You know who I mean. (In the margin, Will has just written five little question marks in a row ?????)

"The band you were thinking of, it's Metallica," Eddie says.

Not important. But, uh, the reason for telling you this. I was hoping you might smuggle me to a show the next time your band plays at the Hideout? Last time I tried to go it was too loud and gave me a migraine, you remember, but I think that I could listen to your whole show like this. We might as well take advantage of the perks of this shit situation, right? So, uh, I wouldn't mind if you did that. Or, like, had Robin or someone else bring me. Whichever.

Actually, wait, I lied, I do care which way. I've already had them pen down Robin's letter, so you'll have to pass this on, but I want Robin to take me. So, I can also watch the show, not just listen. That was the part I liked most, when I went last time, before I had to leave. Wait. Scratch that. Ask Argyle. Other than you, he seems like the only person willing to be caught holding me in public, mostly because I don't think he even knows how to be embarrassed. Jesus that was such a weird sentence to say. Holding me in public. Such a weird thing to experience, too.

Uh, anyway, I think that's it for now. Thanks for everything, Eddie.

"I think you're handling this loss of bodily autonomy rather well, Steve. This letter is a lot more positive than the one I would have written if our roles were reversed," Eddie says with a sigh. He can't help but wonder what Steve would have said in this letter if it hadn't had to be filtered through two teenagers first.

He looks to the last page, the list of questions, and is surprised to see that, mixed in with questions about which sports team is winning (he is not going to watch Sportsball for Steve. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it. He will ask Wayne about it later and hate the glee he sees in his uncle's eyes because now he's going to have to pretend to like sports for the unforeseeable future) and for honest updates about their friends are questions about Eddie's campaign that he's rambled on about since Steve can't escape. Steve wants spoilers, wants to know what Eddie has planned.

Steve has actually been listening. He'd been operating on the assumption Steve just tunes him out when he gets going, unable to stop his brain to mouth filter when it comes to talking about Dungeons and Dragons and his current campaign.

"I'm at your list of questions now. I can't answer anything about sports, and don't think I'm unaware of how you asked me and not Lucas. I see what you are doing and I'm not going to fall for it. So, your first non-sportsball question here; How is Dustin doing, really? Well, that's a whole thing but overall, okay."

#steddie #my fic #porcelain steve #having steve write letters to everyone was sparked by jonathans even tho the wonder twins dont admit that #it was a passing comment when he walked in on Will explaining the difference between sorcerer and warlock to El and Porcelain Steve #just a quick 'i wonder what steve would have to say about this if he could talk' #and will and el were like! yes! what WOULD he say? El talk to him #and it evolved from there #also its not said because how would Eddie know? but the list of questions in different handwriting is Joyce's #to avoid campaign spoilers for Will‚ el asked joyce to write that part #they go through all the questions but im not writing those #this was mostly to get a little bit of Steve in here #feels weird to write a steddie fic where steve hasnt even spoken until 9k+ words into the fic #especially since i am NOT a slow burn person‚ not that i count this as slow burn #how do you define slow burn? does this count? help a girl out and let me know

[rafeandonlyrafe]

reluctant friends to lovers

words: 1.8k

week one of class 

“are you freaking serious.” you whisper to yourself, seeing his name on the sheet next to yours. you were hoping for basically anyone else, the ditzy blond who you know you’ll have to carry throughout the whole course, or the quiet kid who you’d never have a not-awkward conversation with. but, that’s not who you get as your lab partner. you get rafe cameron.

he slides up next to you, big smile on his face. “hi beautiful.” he says, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. rafe is nice to you, too nice. you’ve been in a couple classes with him before, and it’s always the same. he flirts heavily with you, invites you on dates, to parties, dismayed when you say no like always. you were flattered at first, thinking he was actually into you, but you should have known it was too good to be true. you see him every week with a new girl, and he probably just wants to add you to his list of conquests.

“hey rafe.” you let out a sigh with your words, but he doesn’t have time to respond as your professor begins to speak. you flip your notebook to a fresh page, starting to jot down notes. geology is not your favorite subject, but it’s a required class for your degree. you’re not even sure what degree rafe is going for, or why he is even here. you know from the gossip around the school that he comes from money.

whats your degree? you write on the back of your syllabus. 

business rafe writes back. that makes sense. you’re not sure what business his family is in, but you’re guessing they forced him into getting a degree. it’s not that he’s not smart, he seems to pass all his classes, but he clearly much rather spend all his time partying. what’s yours?

political science with a minor in communications. 

rafe ooo’s quietly, showing his impressment with your choice of degree. you smirk and roll your eyes. 

you don't even get to any lab work today, it's just the professor going over what the semester looks like and giving you some reading to prepare for your lab next week. 

"see you next week." you say, not wanting to give rafe time to chat you up again as you hurry out of the class. when you look back you think rafe looks almost disappointed.

week two of class

"did you do your prep work?" you ask rafe. you're honestly not sure why you're so confident he didn't. maybe it's because his priorities always seem elsewhere.

"of course." rafe pulls his lab book out, and the first page is done. you nod in approval.

"should be easy anyways." rafe says. "i mean today is literally just testing the hardness of different rocks. how bad can that be?"

you shrug. you have no interest in science, and while you enjoy nature, knowing what kind of rocks you are stepping on is not something you're truly interested in. 

your attention turns to your professor while he does a quick introduction, but after that, its all you and rafe.

you work down the list of rocks, seeing what it scratches or what scratches it.

"okay." you set the rock down, frustrated with it. "i can't freaking tell if this is leaving a scratch or if it's just residue." you let out a huff. this is not going to be your favorite class, but you already knew that when you saw who would be working with you all semester.

"relax." rafe let's out a chuckle, picking the rock up. "ill help." rafe does the same thing you just did, getting his face awfully close to the rock, and all you do is sit there and admire his side profile. he's handsome, but after seeing his tongue down five different girls throats last semester, you know to stay away.

"i think it is scratching, yeah." rafe nods, and you mark it down on your sheet.

"thanks." maybe this partnership wouldn't be so bad after all.

"you can thank me by going on a date with me friday night." nevermind. 

week three of class

“did i miss in the reading what geomechanical tests are?” you ask, flipping through your textbook.

“here, hold on.” rafe reaches over to flip to a specific page, pointing out the section that explains it all.

“thanks.” you nod, quickly reading the section as rafe prepares the materials for the lab today.

you’re about to get started when a pretty brunette comes up to your table, leaning across you to talk to rafe, “hey handsome.”

you cringe, looking to rafe, who doesn’t seem all that interested. must be last weeks conquest. old news.

“hey kelsey.” he says, not even bothering to look up from his paper.

“are you coming to my party this weekend?” she asks. 

“need to study.” rafe says. you hold back a laugh. it’s the third week of class, there’s nothing to study for, and kelsey must know that as she stalks away.

“why do you do that?” you ask before you can help yourself.

“do what?” rafe looks up at you, but you just shake your head.

“nevermind.” you don’t want to explain that you’re more interested in studying whats going on in rafes head rather than the rocks in front of you.

week five of class

“i can’t believe we already have a pop quiz.” you thought you liked this professor originally, but maybe not anymore. 

“at least we can work together.” you guess that was the one saving grace of it.

“you’re gonna have to carry me through this.” you say honestly.

“you know, it’s actually nice to know there is one thing you’re not good at.” rafe says as the professor hands out your quiz. you let out a sigh of relief seeing its only one page.

“what do you mean? i’m averaging like a 3.0 right now.” “really?” rafe looks shocked. “i always just assumed you were top of the class because you never party or go out.” you let out a little laugh, shaking your head as you write down your name on the top of the paper. “i’m just not really a party person, that’s all.”

week six of class

“i can’t believe i’m saying yes to this.” you hand your phone to rafe, letting him put his number in it.

“oh come on, we are getting pizza and then studying together. it’s not like i’m asking for your hand in marriage.” “alright, just don’t mistake it for a date.” “wouldn’t dream of it.” rafe says, but sounds disappointed.

week seven of class

you laugh and lean into rafe, it feels natural, the way your body presses against his, if only for a moment. he googled some dumb geology jokes to make you feel better with studying for midterms. they’re awful dad jokes, but that just makes them even funnier.

“please come over again to study.” rafe says as the class is nearing the end. your professor gave you an entire class to study and use the materials in the lab, but you’ll need to go over the textbook for the written portion.

“yeah, it was actually fun last time.” you admit. not that you didn’t expect it to be, but you went on got pizza with rafe, eating it on campus, then headed to his condo just outside of campus to study. it’s a really nice one, and you figure his family must be paying for it. you wish you could live without any roommates, but you’re stuck in the cheap dorms.

“great. i’ll text you a good time.”

week ten of class

“please just talk to me.” rafe says, grabbing your hand, which you quickly snatch out of his grip.

“i am talking to you.” you say with a sigh.

“i mean about what happened i would understand if you’re upset.” 

“we should really focus on the lab, rafe. he said this would be on our final exam.” you turn back to your work, hoping rafe would do the same, but he’s persistent.

“i kissed another girl and you saw it, you’re allowed to be upset, but if you’d just let me explain-” “we are not together!” you say loudly, getting a couple people at the tables near you to turn and stare. “we are not together, rafe.” you say quieter now. “so kiss whoever you want, i don’t care.” “i know we’re not together but we had something good going and i don’t want this to end because i’m an idiot.”

“nothing has ended. we weren’t together before and we aren’t together now. we aren’t even friends, we are just lab partners. now stop before i walk out of here right now. we have work to do.”

week eleven of class

“thanks for ruining him, bitch.” 

you look up confused, sure that the girl isn’t talking to you, but you look up to kelsey staring back at you. “excuse me?” “rafe. he didn’t throw his party this weekend because he was being a crybaby over you. he was hooking up with my friend but he won’t do that now that you turned him down. god, it was so much better before you had to sink your claws into him.” and with that, she stalks away.

you wait in shock until rafe comes in, frowning and for once silent as he slides into his seat.

“rafe.” you say. “can we talk?” “oh, now you wanna talk?” rafe scoffs. 

“i- i didn’t know you were serious about us. i thought i was just another name to add to your list. i didn’t realize that you were actually hurt.” “of course i’m actually hurt. i never once tried to hook up with you, it was always more serious than that. when i hook up with a girl, they know that’s all i’m interested in. i tell them that’s all they’re going to get out from me. it’s never a secret.”

“i’m so sorry i judged you too quickly.” you say, placing your hand experimentally on top of rafes. you honestly can’t blame him if he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

“it’s okay.” rafe turns his hand over to lace your fingers together. “can we give us an actual shot now?” “yes.” you squeeze his hand. “yes.”

week thirteen of class

“you nervous for the exam?” rafe asks.

“nope.” you lean into his side. “because i’ve got a great partner.” “great in more ways than one, huh?” rafe pecks your lips, but you stop him from pulling away, deepening the kiss.

“great at geology is the main thing that matters right now.” you say with a giggle.

rafe wraps his arm around your waist, thumb rubbing gently over the skin between your shirt and jeans. you smile at him, even as your professor begins to explain your lab.

#obxweek23 #reupload! #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron one shot

[the-darklings]

──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐕.]

summary: "You look lonely, Dream."

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

wc: 3.5k+

warnings: dare I say it... soft, Dream is still Dream ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

notes: you're all actually insane. thank you so much for your support & I love you. enjoy perhaps the happiest chapter in the story : )

part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

PART FIVE: YEAR 522

“Enjoying yourself?”

You nudge the book from over your face, squinting at the tall figure looming over you. “I was till about two seconds ago.” 

Your retort is lost in a sleepy yawn as you cover your mouth. 

Corinthian’s tall frame casts a steep, hard-edged shadow over your body. He doesn’t move. Sighing, you unhook your legs to sit up, blinking up at him. “Where were you? I haven’t seen you in two days.”

“Performing my duty,” he replies smoothly, mockingly bowing. “As our benevolent ruler has intended. Even I get tonight off.”

“Right. Good dreams for everyone.”

Dreamfall is tonight. The inhabitants that call this realm their home—nightmares and dreams alike—have been prepping for the celebration since light first broke over the land. 

Corinthian steps under the whistling willow, visibly amused by how the branches seemingly hiss whenever he draws too near. He sits down against the trunk without forewarning, grabbing your ankles resting in the shade. He lifts your legs before dropping them over his lap unceremoniously. His hat drops beside him, and you huff at his gall. Your shoe nudges his deliberately—a half kick—your sweet smile making an equally poisonous smile curl his mouth. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” he drawls insincerely. 

Rolling your eyes, you leaf through the book you were reading before your impromptu nap. 

“Will you be at the celebration?” you inquire casually, not looking his way.

The nightmare clicks his tongue. “No.”

Your stare skims over the edge of your hardcover, “Why not?”

A thin, polished blade appears in his hand, looping between his long fingers. He seems too thoughtful for it to not spell trouble. “Taking a page from your book and running from things.”

This time your kick lands intentionally against his ankle. Corinthian doesn't react to it. Lately, he's been convinced you're running from things that have transpired in your extended life. It's true to an extent. You're not idiotic enough to convince yourself otherwise. Kernel of truth or otherwise, you would rather talk about anything else. 

This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at the Dreaming in a single stretch. Almost a year. But this time is different. You can’t help but get a sense others don’t want you to leave. They’re concerned about you. After your last mishap in the waking world, no one can blame them, certainly not you. You were in terrible shape. If anything, you had forgotten how sweet it is: to be wanted and cared for, even if few ever express it through traditional means. 

“Not this again,” you groan. “You don’t get it.”

"Oh, but I do." Corinthian's head tips to the side, facing away from you. You haven't noticed the miniature wooden piece in his other hand until his blade starts scoring through the wood. "You don't want to consider your existence. So instead, you shove everything happening to you to the side in some vain hope that it won't hurt you if you wait long enough. Tsk, tsk."

Metal scrapes on wood again; louder, with more force, small wooden shavings scattering near your feet. Corinthian turns to face you again, leaning closer, your distorted reflection visible in his shades. “But memories have teeth, Wanderer,” he continues playfully. “They always come back to bite.”

You offer him a flat, unamused stare. “Trying to freak me out? Or just being purposely annoying?”

He grins brightly, all teeth visible, one side of his mouth crooking slightly further than the other. “I’m a nightmare, darling. It’s in the job description.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift your book back over your face, his words swimming in your head. 

“Annoying, it is.” 

Silence blankets the clearing for a while. Miniature daisies curl around your palm where it rests on the warm ground. It doesn’t escape your heed that everything in Fiddler’s Green shrinks away from Corinthian. Everyone, everywhere, shrinks away from him. Even amongst other nightmares, he has distinct energy that separates him from the rest; bold, defiant, and destructive.

Frowning, you drop the book back over your chest, gazing up at him. Corinthian’s head rests slanted to one side, focused entirely on his work. You’ve seen him partake in woodcraft often in recent years, but only ever in private. It settles him. This way, he manages to keep his mind and hands busy. During instances like these, away from everything, Corinthian appears almost human. As if whatever cruelty he indulges in so often takes a rest during these times. 

“Come with me to the celebration,” you say abruptly. “It won’t kill you to be nice for a change.”

The nightmare pauses mid-scratch. Corinthian carefully considers his handiwork, blowing away the wood dust with deliberate slowness. “I’m very nice,” he retorts. “See.”

He throws the object at you. You scramble, the wooden figurine almost hitting you in the chest. Shooting him a glare, you roll the smooth wood in your hand. It’s warm to the touch. 

Miniature Corinthian stares back at you. With a gleeful grin stretched wide, glasses on, and a wooden hat over the nightmare’s head. The details are immaculate. Lovely. Somehow the thought he’s created this from nothing brings a smile to your face. So, not just a nightmare, huh? 

You offer the nightmare a toothy, teasing grin. “He’s cute. Could use some friends, though.”

You toss it back at him. Unlike you, Corinthian catches the figurine smoothly, twisting it between his digits with a considerate hum.

“Friends.” There’s an abrasive edge to the way he articulates the word. “What a thought. Catch.”

You’re ready this time, but at no point did you catch him taking out a second figurine. Your mouth parts, speechless. 

“This is…”

It's you. Your likeness has been shrunk to fit inside your hand—a tight knot forms in your throat. You've never had someone do something like this for you. The curse repeatedly destroys any traces of you. Fires, floods, diseases, wars. You've never been allowed to exist. Not in any significant way, anyway. But this is special—proof, as good as any, that you're real.

Wordlessly, you sit up, reaching over to hand him back the figurine. 

“What?” he bites out. “Don't you like it?”

You want to smile at the prickly offence in his voice. 

“I love it,” you insist. You nimbly grab the figurine Corinthian made of himself and shove it in your pocket, wiggling your brows. “But you hold onto mine, and I’ll hold onto yours. That’s what friends would do.”

You plop down on the ground, stretching your legs more comfortably over his lip. Corinthian doesn’t stir. Time glides leisurely, weaving a tapestry of tranquillity: you read, Corinthian whittles a new piece. When you’re out there in the universe, it’s memories like this one you armour yourself with. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Corinthian doesn’t pause in his work. “You just did.”

You lift onto one elbow. “Why do you wear your glasses around me? You know your eyes don’t scare me.”

Even the mini replica of him has glasses on. Is he worried they make you uncomfortable? After five hundred years, few things can unsettle you anymore. 

“I do. But I wasn’t born. I was made.” There’s weight to how he phrases it. Purposeful, premeditated. “The first time I became aware of my existence, I saw two things. Him, Dream of the Endless, my creator, and… you. The only one who never flinched away. Funny that.”

You lift a curious brow. “Funny how?”

A slight, mean grin edges Corinthian’s mouth. “Surely you’ve noticed? How many others around here look like me? Like you?”

Wind rustles your clothes, wrapping around your wrists and shoulders. Maybe it’s Fiddler Green’s approach in discouraging you from this conversation. But you’re not leaving. And you understand what the nightmare is trying to convey, what he’s suggesting between the lines. 

That on some level—subconscious or otherwise—Dream crafted Corinthian in your image. The parallels are too significant. Your shared human attributes. A cursed human. A nightmare. Differing forms of misery. Forever. 

You witnessed Corinthian's creation. He's been special to you ever since. Those jagged teeth for eyes or his corrupt nature never bothered you. At least not as much as others believed it should. 

“Corinthian—”

“Hey kid, there you are,” a voice grouses through the clearing, striding hurriedly in your direction. “Geez. Do you have any idea how hard it is to track you down? Oh. Corinthian.”

Merv freezes the second the nightmare comes into view; branches and your body have kept him mostly from sight until now. 

Clearing your throat, you raise your hand in a casual wave. “Hey, Merv.”

The pumpkin head balances on his heels, awkwardly looking around the clearing. “Uh, the big boss wants you back at the castle, kid,” the caretaker informs, pointing his thumb behind him. Back in the castle’s direction. “You’re the honoured guest tonight, so….”

Dream must be otherwise occupied if he didn’t come to collect you himself, considering he can pin your down in a mere second usually. 

“Better run along,” Corinthian shoos, leaning back to get more comfortable. His hands are empty in his lap, and it doesn’t escape your notice. 

You won’t be able to continue your conversation now; that is clear. Admitting silent defeat, you struggle back onto your feet, stretching. You tuck the leather-bound book under your arm, turning to go. 

“Oh, and Wanderer?” You pause at Corihtian’s deliberately sweet call. In your peripheral, Merv’s features spasm with irritation. The nightmare grins when you turn back towards him. “Happy Dreamfall. May the Fates smile upon you.”

The nightmare’s hands clasp together lightly in mock prayer, and you shake your head. Leave it to him to ridicule human religion. 

“You can’t bribe three-in-one for good fortune, Cori,” you tell him, equally as saccharine. “It doesn't work like that.”

“The veil between Worlds will be thin tonight,” he says lightly, all innocence, shrouding something darker beneath. “You never know.”

.

“You should be back at the castle, enjoying the festivities.”

Waves lap against the shores of the Dreaming, all things unstirring and still around you. It’s so quiet here. Even your breaths echo. Dreams and nightmares alike are celebrating. Tonight, their home is the centre of the cosmos. It’s dense in the air—that thrumming power raw imagination holds, building and swelling with the inky waves. You sit perched in the grainy, dark sand, your fingers dug in deep. A light breeze stirs beside you, and the Dream King’s dark coat whispers over your hand. 

On this night, his overcoat is edged with glimmering golden flame at the hem, flaring brighter with each faint movement. Dream of the Endless at his true, unsuppressed power. The universe is paying tribute to his domain tonight. Your skin tingles at the oozing power radiating from him in such close proximity. 

However, the answer to his reserved observation comes quickly: “Couldn’t miss this view.”

Light beams swirl in a multicoloured kaleidoscope through the inky sky above. Falling, falling, falling; swimming and floating. Dreams; pulsing and spinning through the lonely, silent universe to here. Their anchor place.

Dreamfall. An apt name indeed. You’re dizzy, stunned, and incredibly humbled just witnessing it. Has any other human been given such privilege? 

“How many do you think there are?” you whisper. 

“Billions.”

Dream’s voice is a gentle, deep caress beside you. Self-possessed as if he’s counted each one himself. 

Your palm drags mindlessly through the dark sands, each grain sifting through your fingers. Dream Lord jolts at your side, breathing out deeply, but you don’t pay his odd reaction mind, settling into pensive silence. 

“Can you see them?” you ask thoughtfully. “Individually?”

“See them, feel them,” Dream lists passively. His fingers outstretch slowly, aiming towards the boundless black water—no, towards the skies, towards living tendrils of joy and light dancing through the dark. “I need not take them. For they are all… right… here.”

A glow kindles in his open palm, muted, soothing light. It flutters; quivering wings of a scared bird, then settles, safe in Dream’s protective hold, forming a small sphere. A gasp climbs up your throat, but you swallow it down, jumping to your feet and brushing the sand off your palms as you go. 

A woman’s figure moves in the smokey image. She’s cradling a tiny bundle in her arms, her nose brushing over the child’s nose lovingly. It’s a nurturing, beautiful scene. One to leave your heart aching with longing. 

“That’s incredible.” Stepping closer, you reach to touch the glowing globe, but stop yourself last moment. No. There’s no knowing what it would do to this woman if someone like you infringed on her dream. Your fingers shrink backwards, falling back to your side, each digit curling loosely. Dream tracks the gesture intently, his features drawn, so you force lightness into your following words, “For all the splendours in this universe, the Dreaming still manages to delight me the most.”

Dream Lord’s thumb skims over the glowing sphere. Then he extends his arm and blows gently. Like his sand, the dream skips and floats away, soon all but lost in the infinite array of colours. 

“On this night, all living things dream,” he murmurs, concentrating solely on the descending lights. “And those dreams all traverse the universe to find their way home. To the Dreaming. What is it?”

You blink, realising you’ve been caught staring. “It’s just… over five hundred years,” you begin with a small smile. “I thought I’d have you all figured out by now, but you keep surprising me.”

Dream’s chin slants in a slight nod—regal even in these tiniest gestures. For a second, you wonder if you glimpse a sliver of amusement, but you blink, and it’s gone. “Likewise, Wanderer.”

You stand side by side, observing the vivid display. Dream’s features are, for once, relaxed. Softer than usual. 

“You love them,” you choke out, startled by the piercing realisation. “Humanity. Then why…”

He’s gone incredibly still beside you. “Why what?”

Despite the direct prompt, your mouth remains closed. A thousand thoughts swarm through your head. All this time, you had it so wrong. Dream Lord’s stoic, often cold, mien. Even his duty he so uncompromising places first. 

“You look lonely, Dream.”

It slips out before you can give it much thought, talk yourself out of voicing it. You’ve seen how Dream handles such observations. How any label or implication sets his jaw and ignites an ancient flame in him. There’s a reason you’ve never defined your relationship or so much as tried to. Equal parts fear how he would take it—and more painfully—the thought he would admit you mean nothing. 

But Dream Lord is lonely. It’s written in every corner of his handsome, imposing face. Displayed naked and vulnerable in the way he watches these dreams. Such fierce devotion and a need to understand them, even when he struggles with the complexities of humanity. 

“I was wrong about you,” you rush ahead in a whisper, noting the slow spreading coldness painting over his features. “I once thought you didn’t care at all. That you’re above it all. But now I realise just how much you do care.”

Chuckling under your breath, you mentally reabsorb the years you’ve spent by his side. With such crushing responsibility, Dream acts a certain way for a reason. 

“But to have the collective consciousness of all living beings resting on your shoulders… I can’t imagine it.” You shake your head slowly from side to side. A small, sad smile pulls at your lips. “Your sense of duty to them is stronger than anything else. So it’s easier to not show anything. To anyone. Easier to lock it all down.”

Dream displays no outward reaction to your comments. His stare, however, burns into you, simmering with some hidden, potent emotion you can’t decipher no matter how hard you try. “You created this for them,” you conclude fondly, glancing around you. “The Dreaming is your gift to life, to humanity.”

Your heart inflates, stray breaths escaping your parted lips. The coldness and the prickly displeasure have waned from his demeanour with your speech, leaving Dream Lord mute at your side. His quietude fills in all the blanks, melancholic as it is. 

There’s nothing more lonely than endless existence. You’re starting to learn as much intimately. 

"I'm merely abiding by the Old Laws," he says lastly. "Anything is possible here. Let me show you."

Confusion must show on your face because Dream inclines his head towards the pier to your right. 

“What are we doing?” you question, following after him. 

The hem shimmers with Dream's steady gait, illuminating the path ahead. He stalls at the edge of the dock, water beyond stretching as far as the eye can see. 

“Creating.”

“Uh, what?” Understanding sinks in at his deliberate glance. “Dream, I… I can’t dream. I can’t create anything here.”

“You need only to imagine it,” he says. “I will do the rest.”

He gestures for you to take his place. Your feet brush over the pier’s edge hesitantly. You don’t dare to look below. Those depths are treacherous to anyone who isn’t this realm’s creator. 

“How will you know what’s in my head?”

Dream Lord’s presence whispers against your back. His fingers are light when they settle on your shoulder. “When it comes to dreams, I always know.”

You huff. “Fine, show off.” 

“Clear your mind,” he instructs promptly. Not like you expected him to humour you. “Here, tonight, anything is possible.” 

Keeping one hand on your shoulder, Dream raises his other arm, digits extended; relaxed, elegant. With a soft rasp from Dream Prince’s lips, power surges in the air, “We begin… with a spin.”

Dream Lord’s wrist rotates, everything in sight ceasing for a heartbeat, and then the world shifts.

Water plunges inwards, forming a whirlpool, cool spray hitting your skin with a powerful gust. A startled breath wooshes from your lungs, peering down at the ravine wide-eyed. 

You’re not afraid, though. You’re mesmerised. “What should I do?” 

He hears you even over the roaring water. “Change the world,” Dream whispers behind you. The way he says those words makes you believe you can do anything. “Imagine you are free. Visualise it. What do you see?”

“There’s a small island.” The vision springs to mind instantly, shining brightly in your mind’s eye. “Grass that grows there is the greenest there’s ever been. And… it tastes like sour apples.”

“Are you, by any chance, hungry, Wanderer?”

If you didn’t know any better, you would presume he’s teasing you. 

A breathless laugh escapes you. “Shh. I’m focusing.”

The island trickles back into your thoughts, fragments stringing together. 

“The sun that shines on the island is never too hot. The air is sweet and light. The flowers never wilt, trees never shed leaves, and the sky is an endless periwinkle shade. There’s always food and drinks. Books and games. An old friend waits at the beach to greet you with a patient smile whenever you arrive.”

And as you speak it, Dream’s fingers trail over the horizon, weaving and creating what you’re relating. 

“A friend.” He sounds contemplative, with faint curiosity lacing his timber. “Not family or a lover?”

“Not everyone has family, and not everyone needs a lover,” you clarify. Each word wobbles, caught in a spell of his creation. “But everyone should have a friend. The island will be there whenever someone feels lonely, lost, or desperate for an escape. It’ll be there to welcome you. To give you a corner to hide. There is no sadness there. No loneliness or confusion. There’s only…”

“... hope.”

You nod at his hushed conclusion in your ear. Dream’s palm closes gently, forming a fist. The Dreaming exhales, his other hand slips off your shoulder, and in the far distance, an island shudders in the water, settling. Waves slosh loudly, beating against the dock, smoothing into crystal clear moments later. 

Your eyes burn as you stare unblinking at the unassuming island.

“Why do you weep, Wanderer?”

You tuck your face in your elbow instinctively, chuckling thickly. 

"This, no, it's... uh… thank you." Each word cracks with emotion as you mumble the words. Scrubbing your palm over your eyes, you smile softly. "Thank you so much for this."

“You need not thank me,” Dream states, a wrinkle forming between his brows. “The island is now part of the Dreaming. And whenever a soul finds themselves alone or in need of that comfort, they shall find their way here. It came from you.”

Does he have any idea how precious this is to you? No words in any tongue could adequately capture how deeply this settles in your soul. You exist. You’re real. The figurine in your pocket and the island visible in the distance are indisputable proof of that. He’s been a constant, a terrible shelter, for so long. But with this, he’s knitted himself in your marrow until your dying breath. 

“Sit with me?” You settle down without preamble, your legs dangling over the edge. You never want this night to end. “Just for a little while,” you add quietly. 

Dream lowers his head in consideration. Much to your unspoken surprise, his limbs fold elegantly beneath him, the golden edges of his coat pooling around him. 

Your head drops back, watching the falling dreams. He does the same. 

You don’t speak, and neither does he. Neither of you needs to. 

Everything that ought to be said is expressed in the comforting stillness between you. 

an: personal hdc is that before Corinthian escaped into the human world to wreak havoc, he had other ways to keep himself busy heh.

also, be sure to savour the happiness because it sure isn't going to last : )

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #netflix sandman #sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #the sandman netflix #tom sturridge #fic: today i bury you in me

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 20

Next 💜 Back 🖤 First

Author Notes

Memories appear. We see Relvin steadying a tiny, eager Imogen, about three years old, in the saddle before him.

Imogen: (VO) I’ve spent my whole life in Gelvaan, although we didn’t always live so far out of town. Mother was gone before I even had a chance to remember her, so it’s always just been my dad and me, and the horses.

We see a very young "Laudna", about the same age, barefoot in the garden with her father, watching intently as he demonstrates the planting of seeds, which she is carrying in her apron. A row of apple trees in flower is visible nearby.

Laudna: (VO) My youth was not very different from yours, I think, in many ways. I had a lovely childhood on a small farm on the outskirts of Whitestone, back when the tree was flourishing.

Closeup of young Laudna in the woods, about five years old, lying on her elbows on the ground. In the foreground we can see an arrangement of leaves, rocks, flowers, berries, and acorn caps in the shape of a fancy dinner party, in which she is attempting to convince a beetle and a snail to participate.

Laudna: (VO) My powers of sorcery manifested at a young age, though, which made things difficult for my parents. I spent most of my time alone, playing in the woods in the company of my own imagination.

Imogen, around eight, is alone on the school playground, reading quietly by herself while the other children whisper together in the foreground.

Imogen: (VO) I never really had the knack for makin’ friends, even before my powers came in. It was easier to let them alone and be left alone.

About nine, Laudna is being reprimanded in front of the class by a teacher, who is pinching her ear. Wincing, she holds out her palm in anticipation of the ruler.

Laudna: (VO) But it wasn’t just magic that made me the freak of the town. I was never really sure how I ought to be behaving. The particulars of social conduct were, and have always been, something of a mystery to me.

Imogen, now a teenager, working in Faramore’s stable, grooming the horses while a young man leans over the fence, watching her. She looks uncomfortable.

Imogen: (VO) And then when they did, the noise and the shame of hearin’ everyone else’s thoughts all the time made it hard to be around other people. The horses were much easier to get along with.

At the bottom of the page a view of a rolling hillside with mountains in the distance gives way to a more ruggedly mountainous pine forest. The two of them, now grown to young adulthood, sit on either side of their respective landscapes, facing away from us, close but a continent and decades apart.

#critical role #critical role fanart #critical role comic #comics #art #southerngothic #imodna #imogen temult #laudna #matilda bradbury #a long road home #mintywolf

[bleedingoptimism]

𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 

𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗮𝘆

“No, no, no, nonononono,” Eddie chants repeatedly looking around his room.

He tore the place upside down, he looked everywhere.

Where the hell is it?!

Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

If someone finds it, his life is ruined. There is no way he can pass this as a joke, everyone will know.

They’ll know just how pathetic and lame he is. Doing a character sheet of his crush. What the hell was he thinking? Well, he wasn’t really, he was high and bored when he did it. And no one was ever supposed to see it. So really whose fault is it?

Sighing as he runs his hands through his messy hair, that is just an extra type of messy today with how much he has pulled at it. He resigns himself that the paper is not in his room and decides to retrace his steps.

He goes to the Wheeler’s place, knocks on the door loudly and Nancy opens the door,

“Hey Eddie, everything okay?”

He slaps his hair down nervously, God he probably looks insane right now, “Yeah, yeah Nance. I just misplaced something,” he says, kissing her cheek as he lets himself in, “Can I go look for it? It’s a hellfire thing.”

“Yeah, of course. You want any help?” Nancy answers sweetly, opening the basement door for him.

“No, thanks!” he screams, going down the stairs two at a time.

There’s no use. It’s not there. Eddie grabs his hair and pulls, stressed. He’s going to have to ask Wheeler Jr, shit.

Fuck! If Wheeler has it, he’s probably going to end up being extorted to do his bidding for the rest of his life. 

Once more he tries to slap his hair back in place before going back upstairs, trying not to look so freaked out, “Nance, is the bad Wheeler home?”

Nancy chuckles at the nickname, “He’s at Will’s. I’m going there now. Need a ride?”

“I’m in the van, but I’ll meet you there,” he tells her, dropping another peck on her cheek and then bolting out the door.

Jon answers the door at the Byers when he gets there a record five minutes later. They half hug in greeting, and then Eddie just runs upstairs not bothering to explain himself.

And Jon doesn’t even bother asking.

“Hey,” he says when he bursts through the door to Will’s room. Will jumps a little from his position on the bed, nearly dropping his paintbrush. Mike just looks up from where he’s lying on his stomach with a comic book in hand.

Eddie half smiles apologetically at Will for startling him and then says, “So here’s the situation,” and crosses his arms, trying to look imposing. He used to scare the shit out of Mike only a few months ago. He can do it again.

“I lost a very important page from my notebook. It’s a big deal, notes about the final boss and shit. If I don’t get it back, or if you read it, the campaign is ruined and therefore canceled, get it?” he says, completely making things up on the spot.

The boys look horrified and immediately get moving, looking through their things to check they didn't accidentally take it. Mike asks him if he checked the basement while Will calls on the walkie for a D&D emergency. It’s cute how much they care, and for a second Eddie forgets how much shit he’s in, until he hears Dustin’s voice through the walkie.

“I— yeah. I found it.”

‘Shit.’

“Did you read it?” Will asks over the walkie, looking worriedly at him.

“No! No, I didn't!” Dustin says right away.

‘Okay, good.’

“Where is it?” Eddie asks loud enough for Dustin to hear over the radio.

Dustin takes a long time to respond.

“...I gave it to Steve.” 

Mike scoffs, “What, why?”

But Eddie can’t hear any of his excuses, something about not reading it and that Steve can give it to Eddie and about trust and-

“The campaign is canceled,” he yells suddenly and the boys look at him in shock while Dustin starts screaming over the walkie but he pays it no mind. He shakes his head, “I quit Hellfire. I’m done, I’m out. Find another DM,” and then he turns around and just walks out of there.

He runs into Nancy on his way out.

“Everything okay?” She asks worried.

He looks at her and is going to answer but then he hears the kids running down the stairs to catch up with him, can still hear Dustin screaming over the walkie, so he shakes his head and smiles at Nancy.

“It’s silly, don’t worry about it,” he assures her, and then gets in his van and bails out of there before the kids can talk him out of it.

𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘂𝗲𝗱

part 1: ❤️

part 2: 🧡  

part 3: 💛  

part 4: 💚    

part 5: 💙   

part 6: 💜

part 7: 💗 

☕🥐💕

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #will byers #nancy wheeler #shit has hithed the fan #i wrote something

[hold-him-down]

Leo Tells a Story

TW: references to whipping, references to institutionalized slavery

Notes: somewhere around the 2 year mark

✥ ✥ ✥ 

“I don’t think I’m getting out of here before midnight,” Luke grumbles from the other end of the line. Rob Bennett can practically hear the frown lines deepening as he pictures his guilt-laden younger brother considering all the possible ways to excuse himself from the late session on the senate floor.

There’s unrest, though. Last week, a new bill had been introduced allowing for broader use of corporal punishment on the private level, and when the public got ahold of it, protests immediately began. Luke had been held in emergency sessions almost every day since, but seldom had they taken him past sunset. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Luke asks now. Rob nods, although Luke won’t see it.

“You want me to stop by your place?” he asks, pizza in one hand and a stuffed animal in the other. He lobs it into Eliza’s bedroom, empty now for the next week. “You know he’s probably up to his ears in Moby Dick or something equally enthralling.” 

And he thinks it’s probably true, but still, lately his visits to Luke’s house have been a good opportunity to build something good in the shit storm that is brewing.

✥ ✥ ✥ 

Rob’s first thought when he walks into his brother’s townhouse and finds Leo laying on the floor, an obscenely fat book resting open on his chest, his eyes closed but his fingers fisted: Leo is drunk?

Rob’s second thought, immediately after: That doesn’t sound like the Leo he has come to know and love.

“Hi,” Leo says (mumbles?) then, but he doesn’t move. And then, he adds, “I don’t feel good,” and a few pieces fall into place.

With a smile of equal parts fondness and sympathy, Rob drops to a kneel beside him, plucking the book off his chest and dog-earing the page before setting it to the side. Leo squints up at him, his eyes just slightly unfocused, and rolls over with a groan. He pushes himself up onto the sofa, Rob kind-of-sort-of shadowing the movements while trying not to be too obvious.

“Did you at least take the good drugs?” Rob says, hand hovering just over Leo’s shoulder blades. He can never quite pinpoint what the right move here is, but he’s pretty sure at this point that hovering is exactly what his brother would do, so he rolls with it.

Leo folds himself in half, his head between his knees, the curve of his spine visible through his shirt. Rob nudges him, offering a sympathetic smile as Leo’s eyes meet his. “Leo?”

“I don’t know,” Leo says. “Aspirin?” he continues. His arm curls under his knees and he draws his body in tighter. And then, as if on cue, he adds, “Luke said I could. I thought it would help.”

Rob picks the discarded bill bottle from the coffee table, rotating it in his hands. “Aspirin fucks with you?” 

Leo nods, a miserable sound coming from him, but he rights himself then, staring at the bottle in Rob’s hand. “Only when I chase it with tequila.”

For a moment, Rob freezes, gauging the likelihood that Leo is fucking with him. Uncertainty colors his generally pretty casual demeanor. Would he be shocked if Leo finally said fuck it and tapped into his probably-moronic twenty-five-year-old instincts to dull the ache of what he suspected was near constant discomfort? Yes, he decides. He would be. Still–

“Leo,” Rob says, uncapping Leo’s bottle of water and tilting it toward him. He pauses. “I don’t say this to freak you out, but are you fucking with me right now?”

Leo laughs out a breath but nods into his knees, then stretches his back and rights himself, planting his feet on the floor. He takes the water and clears his throat, wincing as he does. “Sorry,” Leo says. And then, he adds, “Yes. Most drugs mess with me.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of medical sense,” Rob says as he sits, setting the bottle back down. “Was it always that way?”

Leo shakes his head. “It got worse after the… – training– started. I don’t know, they made me take a lot. Sometimes I think they were trying to make me sick. Sometimes they would bet on how sick I would get.” He sucks in a deep breath and Rob nods, trying to keep the open fury from registering on his face. “I think it started then. Some Pavlovian thing.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he replies distantly. They’re silent as the news begins a broadcast of the Senate meeting. There’s no sound, but Luke’s speaking… emphatically, with a banner of updates running beneath him.

“Luke said your back’s been giving you trouble?” Rob asks minutes later, eying the way Leo holds himself now.

“My neck,” Leo corrects. “Usually it’s okay, I don’t… I must have just slept wrong.”

“You’re too young to have neck pains from sleeping wrong. Luke making you sleep on the floor again?” he asks with a smile. Leo’s eyes are still on the TV, his expression devoid of any real emotion, but there’s something there. Rob gives him a moment before he says, gentler now, “Can I take a look?”

Leo, for his part, mostly looks tired. “It just hurts sometimes,” he says, bowing his head. He puts his hands over his ears, locking his fingers around his head, and Rob recognizes the gesture for what it is: bracing himself, holding himself still, doing what he needs to do.

Rob is light in his touch, asking Leo to move when he needs to, pinpointing the pressure points. Leo’s jumpy, because Leo’s always jumpy, but there’s also an alarming amount of tension along the muscles.

Maybe he did sleep wrong. Maybe he pulled something. Maybe he carries a lot of tension generally, and it wears him down.

But for Leo Evans to willfully open that pill bottle–

“How often does it hurt?” Rob asks, guiding Leo’s chin up and gently pressing along his spine.

Leo swallows. “Not often,” he replies. “Not usually.”

As Rob releases him, Leo adds, “It’s not a big deal,” and then, he amends: “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Okay,” Rob says lightly. “It can be a small ticket item. But–” he takes a breath “–if I only have half the story, I will feel… very sad.”

Leo lifts his head, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll feel... sad?” Leo repeats, with just a hint of, maybe teasing, behind his tone? 

“Very,” Rob says, holding his eye contact for a second longer than he needed to. Sometimes, in these moments, Rob is reminded that Leo can hold his own. That he’s not this broken person everyone thinks he is. That he doesn’t need to be handled with kid gloves the way his parents handle him, that he doesn’t need the protection Luke constantly seeks to provide. 

And then his mouth works ahead of his brain and he says, “Will you tell me why your neck hurts, as seldom as it may?” And if he planned out his words, he might phrase it as less of a demand, but it’s there, and it lingers. “I promise it’ll stay between us, if that’s what you want.”

Leo whistles out a sharp breath, and his eyes meet Rob’s, and his expression shifts. He glances at the TV, where Luke continues to absolutely dominate the senate floor, and turns it off.

“I don’t think I’m really supposed to talk about it,” he says, after a prolonged pause. 

Rob goes to the bar and pours himself a glass of scotch, offering one to Leo. Unsurprisingly, he shakes his head.

When Rob returns, he takes a slow drink, then sets it to the side. 

Every muscle in Leo’s body is tense, his fight or flight response laid out in front of them, and just as Rob considers the exact words he needs to speak to let him off the hook, Leo’s hands ball into fists at his side and he takes a deep breath. 

Leo tells Rob the story then, unexpected in its own right, about the day– one of the days, maybe– that he was tortured just for the sake of being tortured. Complete with a fucking… presentation, and doctors, and video cameras. He recounts it with a detached precision that rattles Rob, the feeling of the whip slicing into his muscles, the feeling of fingers pressing into wounds, the sleepless nights that followed and the uncertainty of when it would happen again. 

When he finishes, Rob’s holding his cup so tightly his fingers are white. He takes a breath, forcibly loosening his muscles, and swallows. He waits until he’s sure he can speak calmly to speak at all, so keenly aware that Leo’s waiting, and that Leo doesn’t do well with Big Feelings, although nothing in his immediate expression or posture gives it away. 

Leo shrugs then, not for the first time that evening. 

“So that’s why it hurts sometimes,” he says softly, his eyes glued to Rob’s fingers, his grip on that glass a preview of what will one day be his grip on the neck of whoever was in charge of that fucking site. 

He takes a breath, the new knowledge settling into him, working its way through his nervous system and penetrating the core of who he is. He thinks of all the ways he’ll get the site shut down, of all the ways he’ll get the whole fucking system shut down; he thinks of what Luke will say when he tells him, and in almost the same instant that he remembers, Leo says-

“You can’t tell him.” 

And Rob swallows, setting his empty glass on a magazine on the table. Leo’s waiting for him to speak, but he doesn’t know where to begin. The medical concerns with an experimental torture device slicing into Leo’s neck and causing what is probably irreparable damage. The mental scars that he’s always known run so deep in this boy, but maybe he still doesn’t fucking get how deep. The absolute blind rage that he can’t contain enough to even push out the simplest of words.

“It’s illegal,” is all Rob can come up with, what could be full minutes later. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Leo replies. “It doesn’t matter if it’s legal or not; I don’t think anyone cares about the legality of anything happening in those sites.” Leo’s expression is almost completely devoid of emotion, a perfect mask trained into him by some asshole in some white room somewhere, but Rob knows there’s turmoil behind them. 

“It matters, Leo. It all fucking matters. You matter. Your suffering matters. Your personhood fucking–” He doesn’t clock the aggression in his own tone, the volume of his voice, the fury behind his eyes, until he looks at Leo. He swallows back his anger. He’ll find the video. He’ll find the video, or Luke will, and things will change. They have to.

He can hear the key turning in the lock, he sees Leo’s eye land on the door behind him, and he swallows back whatever pieces of the rage that he can in time for his brother to step into the living room. 

taglist: @whump-cravings, @afabulousmrtake, @crystalquartzwhump, @maracujatangerine, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @distinctlywhumpthing, @thecyrulik, @highwaywhump, @batfacedliar-yetagain, @finder-of-rings, @dont-touch-my-soup, @skyhawkwolf, @suspicious-whumping-egg, @also-finder-of-rings, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @prodigal-zoe, @peachy-panic, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @urban-dark, @nicolepascaline, @quietly-by-myself, @pigeonwhumps, @whump-blog,  @seasaltandcopper, @angstyaches, @i-msonotcreative, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @anonintrovert, @whump-world, @squishablesunbeam, @considerablecolors, @whumpcereal, @whumperfully, 

#the fighter #references to whipping #references to institutionalized slavery #this was actually the winner of the poll so #here you have it #!!

[lixiektty]

old friend — a jake sim 20th birthday special, coming soon

๛ word count: 600 (not sure how much for the full fic yet, probably less that 10k)

๛ warnings/kinks: dom!jake, sub!reader, idol!jake, language, time skips, friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol, fiction writing, unprotected sex, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, degradation, praise, creampie, breast play, please feel free to let me know if i miss anything!!

๛ author's note: i've always wanted to try writing this scenario especially with jake and hyunjin, it wasn't even until last week where i was like "i have to do this" and here i am writing this on the 9th and deciding to make it a birthday special for my baby daddy.

๛ summary: two year trainee, jake sim, finally made his debut as a soloist and has made it big— leading to a headlining world tour only a year after debut. when coming into the states after his shows in korea, he visits with an old high school friend only to be reminded of how much he as in love with her like he was when he was 17. if only he knew what she hid on her laptop.

๛ taglist: open | closed

"shit," jake cursed under his breath.

his phone hadn't been receiving emails for the last two days, and it was starting to freak him out. he feared if there had been anything sent to him, it would need to be responded to within a certain period.

thank god he was here with you, and you had a computer. he was sure of it, "angel," he called out.

"yes?" you reply, picking up a folded blanket laying underneath your table to drape onto yourself.

"could i use your computer? my phone's trippin' balls and i can't get to any of my emails," he asked, standing up and walking over to the couch so he could see your face.

"yeah, go for it. it should be sitting on my bed," you said, stretching your body along the couch and turning your attention back to the movie you watched.

"you're the best," jake turned to go into your bed room, laptop on your bed just as you said— slightly open with the light beaming brightly from the inside.

he walked over to your bed and kicked his feet up, just like he was at his own home. he considered it his and so did you, and that's what brought you closer again. being around each other like roommates, you only wished it'd last longer.

it would only take about five minutes to check his emails and reply to the important ones, but once he had that laptop open he was introduced to many things.

a certain open tab on your window caught his eye, only being able to read a name. his name. so being the curious bastard he was, he clicked on it reading every word written on the page. his brain was filled with many thoughts, not fully sure if he should react right now.

it was a shock. why was this on your computer, and was the sinful imagines, the literal porn in word form, your doing? something brought jake to his feet, eyes focused on every line even scrolling down to read more.

all this time, jake thought you had forgotten about him and found someone else to be interested in since he had abandoned you to purse his dream. he never slept with, thought about, or looked at another girl ever since he left. and here you were thinking about him in ways only someone extremely dirty would think.

jake was out the door before he knew it, still reading the fiction but soon coming to a stop, looking up and seeing your resting form on the couch.

you had been so distracted you hadn't heard jake open the door behind you. "y/n," jake said softly, coming from out of your room further, computer in hand, "what the fuck is this?"

you sat up and turned back towards him, not sure of what he could be talking about. you got up onto your feet and walked his way. you could've thought it was just a virus suddenly appearing once jake using your laptop with the way he was staring at the screen— no.

it was so much worse than that. the second the screen was turned your way, your eyes got big and your heart instantly sank. there was no way.

"have you been writing about me?!"

#enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #enha smut #enha imagines #jake smut #jake imagines #jake sim smut #jake sim imagines #kpop smut #kpop imagines #smut #imagine #imagines

[kirisslut]

—He's a Fuckboy w/ Eijirou Kirishima

—Cw: fuckboy!kirishima, soft dom kirishima, afab!reader, minor degradation, praise, minimal aftercare, oral (m and f recieving) , fingering, virgin!reader, virginity loss, porn with plot, UNEDITED

—Summary: Everybody says Eijirou Kirishima is a no good fuck boy, but you just cant stay away

—Author's Note: Im really proud of this so I hope y'all like it- - JJ <3

—Please keep in mind that you must be 15+ to read this piece, thank you <3

Eijirou Kirishima had a different reputation depending on who you asked. Some people said that he was the sweetest boy they’d ever met, and others would say he’s the devil in disguise. You had a hard time believing the second one though. He had the sweetest smile ever and he was so nice to everyone. He always helped people pick up their things if they dropped them, lent them money if they didn’t have any for lunch, helped people out with their work in class, always helped clean up messes so the janitor didn’t have to, and he even lent a girl his hoodie once when her shirt got wet. There was no way he was as evil as some people claimed, he was just a big sweetheart. Or at least that’s what you told yourself when you drew your initials with his inside of a heart on the edge of your notebook pages.

In reality, he was the biggest fuckboy ever, most people were just too stupid to see it at first because of how sweet he was. But he wasn’t your typical “call you up at 2 in the morning and ask to come over” fuckboy, he was a “buy you dinner, take you back to your place and fuck your brains out, sneak out in the middle of the night, then never talk to you again” fuckboy. Which is honestly worse than the first one. 

But Eijirou knew it would get him what he wanted way easier than if he was just a straight up douchebag constantly. 

You’d only ever talked to him a couple times, once in gym when you were on a team together, and a couple times in class when you needed help and the teacher was busy. You didn’t even think he noticed you, but he did. When you were too busy drawing in your notebook or paying attention to the teacher, he was staring right at you. He thought you were adorable. But not adorable in an “aww I wanna make you laugh” way, no he thought you were adorable in a “i want to make you squirt on my cock until you’re sobbing” way. And that’s exactly what he decided that he wanted to do with you.

During lunch, you were sitting with a few of your friends in the library, talking while you were eating. You heard the library door open and saw Kirishima enter, immediately wondering what he was doing there. Kirishima never came into the library during lunch, you would’ve noticed if he had before. To your surprise, he walked right up to your table, and sat down beside you, giving you a smile, “Hi sweetheart, I don’t mean to intrude on your lunch, but, I think you’re cute and I wanted to know if you wanted to go out with me later tonight? We could get dinner at that new restaurant.”

You struggled to find words, your face entirely red as you stared at him. He kept that smile on his face, and finally you replied, “S-Sure.”

His smile grew wider, “Great I’m glad you want to, sweetheart! I’ll pick you up at six, text me your address.” He slipped you a piece of paper with his number on it, and stood up, “Well, I gotta get going now, but I’ll see you later tonight.” Eijirou stood up, smiled at you then your friends then left.

As soon as he left, your friends were freaking out to you. Some asking questions and others talking about how hot he was and what a good opportunity this would be for you. You were looking at the piece of paper, which had his number along with a note that said “wear red, it’s my favorite ♡”. You smiled to yourself and started to think about what you were going to wear.

Later that night, around five, you were in your room, trying to decide what you were going to wear. You had two red dresses and a nice red shirt. One dress was very tight fitting, the material was soft and stretchy, it went to about mid-thigh with spaghetti straps and a neckline that went down so you could see some cleavage. The other dress was more formal, with a lace skirt that went down to about mid-calf and longer, lacey sleeves, and a neckline that showed no cleavage. The shirt was a v-neck crop top, with a drawstring in the middle and short sleeves. After having no luck deciding, you grabbed your phone. You had already texted Kirishima and texted him your address so you clicked on his contact and texted him again

You: i can’t decide what to wear :( option 1, 2, or 3?

Kiri <3: 1!!!

You: alright thank you :)

Kiri <3: np, sweet girl

You blushed at his message and sat the phone down, putting on the tight fitting red dress. You put on some thigh highs, and did your makeup before checking the time. Kirishima should be there in just a few minutes. You slipped on some heels, before grabbing your phone and waiting by the door. Eventually he pulled up and got out. He looked gorgeous, he was just dressed in a dress shirt and some nice pants but he looked great. He pulled his hair back into a small ponytail and the material of the shirt stretched out around his muscles. 

Kirishima rang the doorbell and you waited a few seconds to open it, trying not to seem desperate, even though you very much were. He smiled at you as soon as you opened it, "Hey pretty girl, you look great."

You blushed and looked away, mumbling, "Thank you, you look great too."

"Thank you, sugar. Here I got you these!" He held a bouquet of your favorite flowers out to you and you smiled, taking them. You took them inside before coming back, holding your little wallet/purse in your hands. Kirishima looked at it, "Oh you won't need that, sweetheart. I'll be paying."

"Oh that's really not nec-"

"Of course it is, just let me take care of you, alright?" He flashed you another smile and it took everything in you not to melt on the spot. The power he had over you was unbelievable. 

"O-okay," you said, nervously, blushing onge again. You set your wallet inside and came back out, locking the door behind you. Kirishima smiled and held out his arm for you.

You hesitantly linked arms with him as he led you to his car. He opened your door for you and made sure you were in before shutting the door and getting in the driver's side.

The rest of the night went perfectly. He was the perfect gentleman, calling you pretty, respecting your space, making sure you got enough to eat, getting the waiter whenever you needed anything. You were firm in your belief that he was most definitely not a fuck boy.

Finally, after the perfect night. You two were parked in your driveway, talking. 

"Thank you for tonight, it was perfect," you said, with a smile. Kirishima smiled back and set a hand on your lower thigh, gently squeezing.

"No thank you, sugar. You're the reason it was so perfect."

You blushed and looked at his hand on your thigh for a few seconds, "U-um…do you wanna come in?"

"Oh, well is your dad okay with that?" He asked.

"Oh, my dad isn't home this week, he's on a trip with my mom," you replied. Kirishima already knew that, he overheard you talking to your friend about it. It was part of the reason he picked this week to ask you out.

Kirishima refrained from smirking, "Okay, sweetheart, sure then." He smiled and got out, opening your door for you. You got out and you two went inside. 

After a couple of awkward interactions, you two ended up sitting up against your headboard, watching a Netflix movie together. Kirishima’s arm was wrapped around your waist, gently massaging your hip.

You wanted him to move it lower. With a sudden burst of confidence, you leaned up and went to kiss his cheek but he noticed and turned his head, your kiss landing on his lips. You blushed, looking at him with wide eyes, but you stayed committed, gently pressing your lips more into his. He cupped your cheek and kissed back. 

You had meant to pull away after a few seconds, but the taste of his lips were so addicting. They felt so soft and nice against yours, you just couldn't pull away. He pulled you closer by the hand on your hip and kept the kiss going. Eventually, he gently started nibbling at your bottom lip, drawing a couple small moans out of you. You were adorable.

His hand on your hip slid down to your thigh, gently going up underneath your dress. You moved closer and you stopped him, putting a hand on his chest, "W-wait I've never like-"

"Never what, sugar?" He asked, despite knowing exactly what you meant. 

"Y'know.." you trailed off, blushing once again. He smirked. Poor baby, you couldn't even say it

"Are you a virgin, pretty?" Kirishima asked and you nodded, looking away.

"B-but I wanna..w-with you," you stuttered and Kirishima smirked once again. He loved virgins, he wasn't sure exactly why. Maybe he just liked ruining people's innocence. Especially cute girls' like you.

"Okay, sweetheart, don't worry, I'll take good care of you. Just relax for me, okay? There's nothing to worry about," he said, tilting your head to the side with his hand before starting to kiss down your neck. His kisses were slow, gentle. He gently moved his hands up your body underneath your dress, making sure you weren't objecting before removing your dress completely. 

Your instinct was to immediately cover your chest but Kirishima stopped you, holding your wrists together in one of his hands, "None of that, sweetheart. You're so pretty, let me see you." He sucked a hickey into your neck, making you gasp. One of his hands moved up your side before cupping your breast, he moved the cup of your bra to the side and gently rolled one of your nipples between his fingers. You let out a couple quiet moans, as he did that, sucking another hickey into your neck at the same time. 

Eventually, he pushed you to the bed, and he looked down at you. You looked so pretty like this. He couldn't wait to fucking ruin you.

"How're we feeling, pretty? Am I doing a good job?" You nodded aggressively, making him smile and laugh a little, "You want more then?" After another aggressive nod, he was removing your bra, throwing it with your dress, wherever that was. He left kisses down your collarbone and chest, taking a moment to suck your nipples. The moans you let out while he was doing this were so pretty to him, he started to wonder if you could cum just from that. But he had work to do.

Kirishima eventually moved past your boobs, kissing down your stomach, he stopped at your panties, looking at the fabric. There was a wet spot on it and he smiled, "You're so wet already, huh, baby?"

You blushed, and looked away, embarrassed. Kirishima just chuckled and moved a hand up to in between your legs. He gently pushed them apart, and you sat up on your elbows, watching him. You were embarrassed but you wanted to be able to see what he was doing. He looked up at you, winking before starting to rub your clit with your thumb. You let out a small gasp, and a quiet, “O-oh.”

Kirishima smiled, “That feels good, right? Bet it feels so much better than when you’re just touching yourself. You just nodded and collapsed back onto your back, enjoying the pleasure that Kirishima was giving you. He watched your face, and enjoyed your small little moans, before going back in between your legs, he leaned forward and licked up your slit through your panties. Once again, you let out a small gasp, it felt oddly good like that. Kirishima stopped rubbing your clit, shushing you when you whined about how he stopped before hooking a finger in the band of your panties, “Can I take these off, pretty?”

“Y-yes sir,” you replied and Kirishima smirked.

“Sir? That what you wanna call me, honey?” He teased you, pulling your panties off. He licked his lips when he saw your glistening cunt. You were so wet from barely anything at all, and it looked so perfect he just wanted to eat you for hours upon hours. 

“M-maybe,” you replied, suddenly squeezing your thighs together, embarrassed at the tall man just staring at your pussy.

“Ah ah, no, sugar, show me how pretty you are,” he said, prying your legs apart with his large hands. He had really big hands, they nearly covered the entire top of your thighs. You blushed at the thought of his fingers being inside of you. You whined, embarassed against but Kirishima gently shushed you, he had work to do. He leaned in and experementally licked a stripe up your pussy.

The gasp and moan you let out this time was much louder than the previous ones. That felt good. Really good. So good that you couldn’t help but beg for more and more, “P-please, sir, more. Need more. That f-felt good, please-”

Kirishima laughed, “Aww that’s so cute, pretty, barely even touched you and you’re begging for more.” But he listened, repeating that action a couple times and drinking up your pretty moans. Soon enough, he was sucking in your clit, flicking his tongue over it. You moved your hands to his hair and tugged on it lightly, and he let out a little pleased groan. Kirishima loved having his hair pulled. Your moans progressively grew louder as he sucked on your clit before finally you mumbled, “Almost t-there, sir, please.”

He mumbled, never stopping his actions, “Cum all over my face, sugar.” And like the good baby you were, you listened. Kirishima slowly stopped with your clit, looking up at you, “Bet that felt good, right?” You nodded and he smiled, “Mmm, I got a question, pretty.”

“W-what is it?” You asked, wondering what he had to ask.

“You wanna suck my dick, sweetheart?”

Once again, not to anyone’s surprise, you blushed again. After a moment of contemplation, you hesitantly nodded, “N-never done it b-before though, dunno if ‘m any g-good.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, honey. No worries, get on your knees on the floor, baby.” You listened, getting up and getting on your knees. Eijirou stood in front of you, and god did he look hot from this angle. He thought you looked pretty hot too, your sin filled eyes just staring up at him. It was honestly adorable, “You ready, pretty?”

You eagerly nodded, moving your eyes to his pants. They widened slightly at the noticeable bulge…why was it so big? Are dicks supposed to be that big? Or is it just the pants? Was that gonna hurt? Would it even fit in your mouth?

Your mind raced with questions as he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, and it definitely wasn’t the pants. It was huge. Your eyes widened even more and Kirishima chuckled again at the look on your face. You gulped a little, “Is- is it supposed to be that big?”

“Well, I’m a little above average, but you can take it, can’t you?”

“I c-can try,” you replied, looking back at it. It was long and thick, the tip was red with precum leaking from it and a couple large veins on the underside of it. Kirishima smiled.

“Thank you, pretty. Now stick on your tongue,” Kirishima instructed you and you did so. He gently sat his dick on your tongue, “Okay, now take it into your mouth, go as slow as you need to. And don’t scrape your teeth on it either.” You slowly started taking him into your mouth, doing your best to avoid scraping it with your teeth. It hurt your jaw and mouth to open that big, but you wanted to make him feel good so you continued. It took a while but finally you took all of him into your mouth and throat. You stared up at him, eyes wide, full of tears, “Good slut.” That made you clench your thighs together, you weren’t sure why, but you liked being called that. Kirishima noticed and smiled, but made no comment. He wanted to cum.

“Now just bob your head,” he gripped your hand and gently guided your head up and down his cock, shushing you when you gagged. Soon enough you were sucking him off a pretty fast pace, tears running down your face as you made him moan, “Fuck, good whore. My good little whore. You’re so good at this, making me feel so good.” He groaned, and you felt his dick twitch in your throat, “I need to cum, sugar, gonna cum down that pretty throat, and you’re gonna swallow every single drop.” He forced your head down his dick, making you gag on it as he came down your throat. You tried your best to swallow all of it but you were coughing when he pulled out, so you missed a few drops. Kirishima gently ran a hand through your hair, “That’s it baby, you did such a good job.” 

He then lifted you up by picking you up from under your thighs and sat you on the bed, getting on it with you. Kirishima pushed you down to the bed by your shoulders, making sure your head landed on a couple pillows, he wanted you to be comfy while he ruined you on his fat cock. He pushed your legs open, “I’m going to finger you before I fuck you, okay, sugar? I’m a little big for your first time so I want to make sure your stretched out properly.” You nodded and Kirishima smiled before pushing one of his massive fingers inside of you. Even that stretched you a noticable amount. It wasn’t painful, it felt good. He gently pumped that finger in and out of you and eventually slowly added another. This stung a little, but he calmed you down when you whined, “Shh, shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll get used to it in a second. Just enjoy it.” He rubbed your clit with his thumb as a bit of a distraction, and he enjoyed all your cute little moans. After you were stretched enough, he added a third finger. This stung even more but he was so gentle and sweet about it that you barely even whimpered or whined. He could feel your cunt clenching around his fingers and he knew exactly what was coming, “Make a mess for me, honey.” And that’s exactly what you did, you came around his fingers with a moan, your hands gripping your pillow.

Kirishima slowed to a stop, pulling his fingers out before holding them up to your lips, “Taste yourself, pretty. You taste so good.” You hesitated but took his two fingers into your mouth, moaning a little at the feeling of them like that. He was right, you did taste good. You kept sucking his fingers, moving your tongue in between his fingers, which he smiled at. You were learning well.

Eventually he pulled them out, shushing you when you started to complain, “Okay, sweetheart, this is gonna sting but you can take it, right? You’re my good slut?” You nodded and he smiled, lining himself up with your hole. He gripped your hips, watching your face as he slowly pushed in. You gasped as soon as he started. It hurt, bad, even just the very tip was big. Tears immediately rushed to your eyes but Kirishima kept pushing, slowly, but he kept pushing. He shushed your whines, “Shhh, it’s okay, sugar. You just gotta get used to the stretch.” He cupped your cheeks and wiped the tears as they fell, “Take it like a good baby, you can do it.” He continued comforting you, wiping your tears and cooing to you, comforting you. Eventually when you finally got used to his size, he pulled out a bit before pushing back in. He continued, setting a medium pace, making sure he hit deep. The moans you let out were heavenly, he could tell you were feeling good. 

“That’s it, pretty, taking me so well,” he moved a hand and rubbed your clit, “That’s it, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. This is the best pussy I’ve ever had.” And he wasn’t lying to you. He’s fucked so many girls before, and by far, you were the cutest, with the cutest pussy ever. You were too fucked out to process what he said though. Your eyes were rolling back, tongue starting to fall out of your mouth. Kirishima just let out a small chuckle, “Feeling too good to respond, huh?” But as he just said, you were.

He was hitting directly on your g-spot and that paired with it being your first time and him rubbing your clit, you were basically brain dead. You couldn’t even tell him you were close, but that’s okay, he could tell, “You’re clenching around me, sugar. You gonna cum? Huh? Gonna make a mess on my cock? Go ahead, whore. Cum on daddy’s cock.” That was what was did it for you, and in mere seconds you were cumming around his cock. He let out a loud moan, his cock twitching inside of you at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, “Fuck, sweetie. I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up, your pussy’s gonna be dripping with my cum.” He gripped your hips tight and came inside of you, both of you letting out the prettiest moans as he did so. He pulled out, his cum leaking out of your pussy. He chuckled and went to push it back in, as he did so you whined.

“Okay okay, fine, you’ve had enough, huh?” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead, “I’ll get you cleaned up then we can cuddle, yeah?” He left and came back, cleaning you up with a cloth before cleaning himself up, then getting in bed with you, pulling you to his chest. He kissed your forehead, “You did so good for me, baby.” You smiled dumbly and drifted off to sleep on his chest.

The next morning when you woke up, he was gone. No indication that he was ever there, aside from a note on your nightstand that said, “Text me and we can do that again sometime ;)” You were a bit disappointed that he left, but you would definitely be taking him up on his offer of doing it again sometime. Everyone was right, he was a fuck boy, but damn was he a hot one.

Tags: @mommymi1kers @anactualfuckingnerd @wingedjellyfishrebel @angeldahlias @sad0ni0n @llunarbee

#jjs.going.to.hell #eijirou kirishima x reader smut #eijirou kirishima smut #eijirou smut #eijirou kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima smut #kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader smut #mha #bnha #mha smut #bnha smut

[medufasa]

Cool lachambers fics

For @zzzzivy , and anyone else who cares

Everything I Ever Knew About Chris Chambers (*ongoing* - (by heartsflutter; Ao3)

Let The Butterfly Soar (by Goddess Myzt (pretty damn slashy warning) - fanfiction.net))

A 3 parter: Of Sinking Or Swimming (first), In A Savage land (second), The Roaring Silence (third and final)(all by Nenia; they posted it on both fanfiction.net & Ao3) < I believe this was the one I fucking bawled my eyes out on that I talked about before

- Down By The River

- Promise (both by i-nv-u50; fanfiction.net)

Testing the waters (by itbeme: fanfiction.net) in all seriousness I can't remember what happens in this one for the life of me but I did read it

Sweltering Cigarette (by Novelnova; fanfiction.net) (warning,, slashy at times, I believe)

Summer Racing (by NeonTypewritters; fanfiction.net)

Kiss Off (by Princess Lo; fanfiction.net)

A Feeling (by daveylover75; fanfiction.net) A cute little short one

2 parter: Chambers Charm (first), All Knowing Ace Chambers Charm (second and final) (both by iPlu; fanfiction.net)

Paper Prayer (by LadyLove5000; fanfiction.net)

Like Catching Lighting (by Jomellie; fanfiction.net)

Wonderwall (by PolkadotSunstar; fanfiction.net)

Only a Dream? (by BoatsAgainsTheCurrent;

fanfiction.net) < they've made quite a few sbm books (at least one other one being another lachambers fic that I haven't read yet)

A Chris Chambers Holiday (by CherryCokesandWinterSmokes; fanfiction.net)

- All I Want For Christmas

- Stand By You (both by Cynaro of Notre Dame; fanfiction.net) < a bit overly dramatic I recall, but I was invested nonetheless. I also liked the stupid little notes they'd add about the new world order or something at the end of each chapter

Letters (by okayros; fanfiction.net) < very short and sweet!

LaChambers Christmas Story (by cyclops-kiddo; fanfiction.net)

Another 3 parter: Those Were The Days (first), Just Once In My Life (second), It's All Coming Back To Me Now (third and final) (all by secretdemeanor; fanfiction.net)

Stand by Me Always (by Subliminally Profound; fanfiction.net)

Our Home Is Eachother (MauMauKa; fanfiction.net) < the author is questionable... 😭

Stand By Me: Come Go With Me (by TheGeorgieB; fanfiction.net)

Beyond Back Harlow road (by Novem; fanfiction.net) < Muah

- The Price Of Milk (by paper-star-paper-cup; fanfiction.net) < I actually really liked this one ngl tho the plot was kinda crazy

- Wake Up, You've Got Boy Problems (same author and site as previous) < I really liked this one too lol

The Game (by queenofbleach; fanfiction.net & Wattpad) < YALL OK this one was FUCKING CRAZY despite the how unassuming the title is like I actually felt bad reading this cuz it's so..... Yeah. But the ending was sweet. Very fucking slashy,, Chris was a huge dick in this one

Stand By Me (by RavenclawDoll; fanfiction.net)

Maybe You Should've Stayed Someone I Know (by LivieBear; Ao3) < I fucking love how the suspense sorta played near the end of it

Lachambers- Forbidden (by Imvnlla; Ao3 & Wattpad) < this one was soo freaking cute it was like a gay Romeo and Juliet fr. It remains unfinished by one chapter which is probably never going to get completed but it's mostly finished; you could easily figure out an ending from where it ended (slashy in chapter 7)

Lachambers- What If? (Same author and sites as previous) < This one was so good too I think it was one of my first lachambers fics I've read. Slashy and dramatic tho

Une Danse Pour l'Eternité - [ Lachambers ] - (by kass2812; Ao3) < it's all in French pretty much, but there's an option to translate the page into English and it's a pretty solid translation I find. Super cute

these chemical reactions are dividing me (try to keep my eyes closed) (by s0ld_it; Ao3)

One of Our Stories (by BlueDaria; Ao3)

And If This Is What It Takes (by unbelieve; Ao3) < this one was great,, also one of my firsts

Five times they asked eachother if they were ok and one time they didn't have to (by ellsmax; Ao3) < literally the tilte; 6 short cute scenarios

swear I was born in the doorway (by Second_hand_news; Ao3) < modern era 😱😱

Last Chance (by octothorpetopus; Ao3)

Blue-eyed Blond (by fuckfacerichie; Ao3) < what a name, eh? Anyways I like the fics more when they're actually together but dis is cute

Feeling Blue (But Never in Your Arms)

(Anonymous writer; Ao3) < REALLYYYYYY self deprecating but like it gets sweeter since they have eachother and stuff .. aged up smut tho be warned

Where's my love? (by marvelous_inactive; Ao3) < wild and feels kinda unfinished or bittersweet, rather

- Astronomy In Reverse

- Bright Out (both by lachances; Ao3)

yeah ! (by bitchbabytears; Ao3)

Teeth (by hyperrbolic_orange; Ao3)

A Generic GordieChris Slash Fic (by Izout; Ao3) < I fucking laughed the first time reading this

I Won't Be Afraid (by DirtiestGirlInAmerica (LaynaVile); Ao3)) < sad

Letting Go (by Kass; Ao3)

I can't remember shit for most of these but ik I've read all of them and liked em

I may add more later idk I know practically all lachambers fics out there no fucking lie. There's maybe 7 I haven't actually read but I know where to find them 😭 I wish there was more /g

#this is why i may have to make my own like most of these are like over 7 years old #lachambers #chris x gordie #chris chambers #gordie lachance #stand by me #stand by me 1986 #sbm #80s movies #1980s #gay #gay shipping

[neptunesenceladus]

Wanted to do a list of some of my favourite fics across fandoms so here it is! En Enceladus’s favs (as of April 2024). This was actually going to just be my most recent ones but i ended up going through all the recs in my bookmarks, so, these are sorted into fandom to make it easier for you.

DC Fics:

Tractors by @lieu42

DC firstly lieu42 is cool af, so note that down. If you in a mood for time travel and Tim Drake having a crisis then this is definitely for you. I love it so much I bound a physical copy. actually just read everything by him, you will not regret it.

New Wave by @yellowocaballero

DC What if Steph was the first Robin? You should know I love Steph and this is probably the fic that cemented that, I really love how she is portrayed and the 90s skater aesthetic. this fic and tractors are probably my top two recs so go read them now please and thank you

Frequency by @cryptocism

DC, Teen I truly don't know how to sum this up. Basically Thaddeus Thawn "disappears" so CRAYDL activates clones of him. It's so so good and only got one more chapter until it is complete! Also the song November by Sparkbird fits one of the characters (Six) so so well.

Zugzwang by Hinn_Raven

DC, Teen Steph is dead so why is the new talon that Cass is seeing around strangely familiar?

The Juniper Suite by @shhhenanigans

DC, Teen, M, and E (currently 4 parts, first is T and last is E) Genuanly can't describe this one. It's jayroy, with this twisted fairytale body horror theme. so big warnings for body horror, I really love how the author writes all of it and plays with tense and imagery.

Time (to protect you) by Blueseabird2

DC, Teen Dick Grayson and Constantine go back in time to try and save everyone. It's mostly cute batfamily fanon with angst, it was my first DC fic I read (with the exception of Dark Matter) so has a special place in my heart (also the reason I have read so much Hellblazer)

Marvel/MCU Fics:

Pigeon and Crow by @deniigi

Marvel, Teen Peter Parker and Johnny Storm become friends. Deniigi always has beautiful writing and this is no exception. Personally love the wordplay.

Peter Parker's Tapeworm by Ginevra_Benci

MCU, Teen Firstly, the tapeworm is a metaphor. This one is what if the spell at the end of nwh failed and even Peter forgot he was Spider-man. Its really good, especially how the memory loss and displacement is written.

The Lost and Forgotten by @litcraz

MCU, Teen believe it or not, this one was written before nwh, litcraz just fully predicted it. Peter has to make a very bad deal and everyone forgets he exists, but he keeps ending up back in the Avengers path.

Star Wars Fics:

hope has bloody knuckles by @independent-variables

SW, Teen Legally required to star the SW section of this with two independent-variables fic, their writing is so much to me (I literally binged all 4 pages of their star wars fics on ao3). This one is about after the Clone Wars, Davijaan moves to Pantora with Cody to heal after the war. He reunites with a civilian he met once and slowly falls in love. Examines person hood, healing, love, and siblings. (oh and the authors settings in Pantora are inspired by Alaska and are so freaking beautiful)

sing back to the red bird, soldier by @independent-variables

SW, Teen I was hard-pressed to make a choice of just one more from this author, but since I can't list all of them here is another favourite. It's about Rex discovering what it means to be free, and have a choice beyond brainwashing, and then offering freedom to all his brothers. It uses elements of Tatooine slave culture by @fialleril, which is all just so beautiful, so definitely check out them as well!

Dielectric Breakdown by @jessepinwheel

SW, Teen Quite likely the first clone wars fic I read? I love a good mystery and this fic has that with a very fulfilling ending. Obi-Wan kills the Chancellor and goes into hiding toward the end of the war. Five years later he's presumed dead but Cody doesn't believe that and wants to know why he betrayed everyone.

Message Traffic by @skitzofreak

SW, G and Teen This is a must read for anyone. It's all written as correspondence, transcripts, and droid logs, as a post rogue one fix-it. It's actually amazing how much the story makes you invested while you are very clearly behind a fourth wall. I adore it so much.

floating, sinking by shuofthewind

SW, not-rated another everyone survives rogue one fix-it. I just really love rogue one and seeing all the characters get more. Also the perspective switches are really really good.

False Dichotomy by nsmorig (@far-sector)

SW, M One that was recommended to me (by independent-variables). Its dark and has body horror so I loved it. The way Cody is written from both his own perspective and others is in such a way that you can really understand who he is. Truly one of the Cody fics. There is also a sequel that's a wip and is also amazing (I'm still thinking about it).

Bucket of Bolts by @independent-variables

SW, G haha, I lied. have another inderpendent-variables fic. This one looks at Ahsoka and Rex in-between the end of tcw and start of rebels. I love them and whatever it is they have going on.

All Their Tomorrows by @breakfastteatime

SW: Jedi Fallen Order, Teen Horror!!! The Mantis crew find an abandoned ship floating in space and its super creepy and leads them to investigating a dark faction of force sensitives.

Six extras from assorted fandoms:

Talk Me Home by @comebacknow

The Maze Runner, Mature I love tmr so much, never not thinking about it. This beautiful work covers the six months in-between the end of the scorch trials (movie) and the death cure (movie). I've read it multiple times, it expands on both the characters and world building so much.

the scar i can't reverse (the more it heals, the worse it hurts) by EverythingButTheKitchenSink (ElvisHasLeftTheBuilding)

The Maze Runner, Mature I've been following this fic since it was only a couple chapters, its really brilliant. Lots of time travel shit and trauma and seeing Thomas through everyone else's eyes. I would also recommend going through a few of this authors other works as well if you enjoy!

Once & Future by spqr

The Witcher, Mature If you haven't read anything by spqr, congrats, you're missing out. This one is a kind of sleeping beauty au, where Geralt is a statue and Jaskier accidentally wakes him up. They then have to go on a quest to save everyone Geralt holds dear.

Silver and Copper by Heronfem

The Witcher, Mature I love this cause, horror. It gets pretty dark, please mind the tags is horror is not your forte. Jaskier is cursed so a witcher is hired to save him.

Vanishing Act by nockout

Harry Potter, Mature This is probably the only time I'll recommend a harry potter fic, but it's truly worth it. This is a noir detectivy thing that starts by being spread over two different points in time that slowly meet. I have no clue how the author keeps all the plotlines together cause, wow. It also follows an original character which I really love. I'm a few chapters behind that latest update so am feeling like a reread is in order.

can we be seventeen? by acennabeth

PJO, Teen ending with some fluff. This is just percabeth getting a break from everything and being teenagers for an evening. it's so special to me

#i wrote this instead of studying btw #worth it #now i have a list of fics i need to reread #please note that i mostly read stuff that makes me feel severe emotions #so majority of these have likely made me cry at least once #this also dod take me a couple hours to make #but i feel like i might do it more often #because i've found heaps i want to reread #there are a lot of star wars fics here because that's my current obsession #and i want to save the dc fics for if i ever finish writing up my big dc fic rec list #plus i've gotten really into the dc comics at the moment so struggle with how ooc many dc fic is #fandom read the source material challenge (or at least if you are gonna discuss canon) #anyway tell me what you think of these!! #cause i love them! #dc fic recs #star wars fic recs #marvel fic recs #dc #star wars #marvel #mcu #witcher #tmr #oh and if you find any mistakes in this (such as links not working) please lmk

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (51)

part 51 of 55 | 1894 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Robin can’t believe what she’s hearing.  That Eddie, who knows a thing or two (hundred) about being treated like a freak, who’d fought with them in the trenches of saving the world from unknown horrors, would do something like that. To Steve. 

You'll notice I have at least an estimate for the final chapter count now. I always love seeing notes like this on other fics, where the author is like "Okay I think it's just one more chapter guys" and you glance up to the fic info on the Ao3 page and there's definitely like, five more. We'll see how well my optimism ages.

Anyway, have some protective Robin rage from her POV!

51.

The phone rings late a few nights after Starcourt, jolting Robin out of an uneasy sleep. She shoots out of bed, racing for it before her parents wake up. She manages to get downstairs and down the hall in just a few more rings and snatch it up.

“Hello?” she whispers. 

“Robin?”

Her hands clench on the plastic handset at the sound of Steve Harrington’s voice coming down the line. “Steve!? What’s wrong, are you okay? Did something happen?”

“‘M fine,” Steve rushes to assure her, stumbling over his words. “I’m fine. I just. . . . I’m calling to say I’m sorry. For dragging you into this shit, 's my fault because you were working with me, and Dustin can’t talk quiet worth a damn, and. . . . I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

Okay, not so much stumbling as slurring. Okay. Steve Harrington is calling her drunk in the middle of the night. Sure, that’s a relatively normal thing to happen after . . . everything. 

“Have you been drinking?” Robin hisses. “You’re drinking with a head injury?”

“I’m, ‘m drinkin’ by myself,” Steve mumbles, and he sounds so young when he says it. She wants to crawl through the phone line and hold his hand. 

“Where are your parents?”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and then Steve says, “On a business trip.”

“Still? I thought you called them.”

“Yeah, they. . . . It’s an important trip. Meeting. Thing, I d’know.”

Robin chews on her bottom lip. On one hand, she barely knows Steve, really. She has no idea what his home life is like, but it doesn’t seem great that his parents know about his concussion, broken ribs, etc. but still didn't bother to come home and look after him. That’s what parents are supposed to do.

On the other, this is the guy who loudly drew the Russians’ attention so they took him for interrogation instead of her. And even if that was plain old sexism on the Russians' part, he’d still run his mouth even after being pummeled, insisting that she wouldn’t tell them anything. They’d almost pulled off his fingernails, for fuck’s sake.

“Steve,” Robin says firmly. “I can get to your place in fifteen minutes on my bike, okay? I’m gonna hang up and do that, and can you do me a favor while I do?”

“Of course Robs, anything,” Steve slurs easily, and goddammit. This dingus is going to end up being her best friend, isn’t he?

“Drink a glass of water for me while you’re waiting, okay?”

“Okay,” he replies. She can practically hear him nodding, which also can't be good for the already bruised brain knocking around in there.

She gets there in under ten, discarding her bike halfway up the driveway and darting up to the front door in case any of the neighbors are awake at this hour. It’s unlocked, and for a moment she’s frozen with terror at that fact—what if the Russians are back and they’ve tracked Steve down? What if they’re here? 

But then she goes inside and finds Steve in the most bland foyer she’s ever seen, sitting on the carpeted stairs with his head in one hand and a half empty glass of water in the other. He looks up at her approach, eye and cheek and lip still swollen. It looks like he got chewed on and spit back out, and all she can think of is how small his voice had sounded over the phone. 

Mr. Popular, Mr. Cool, cries on her shoulder while telling her how sorry he is again. He tells her about Nancy’s friend Barb and how she died in an alternate version of his pool because he’d thrown a stupid party. He tells her about bullshit  and like we didn’t kill Barb and Nancy leaving him for Jonathan Byers until he’s hiccuping—

When he throws up on her shoes he apologizes for that too, and she womanhandles him upstairs to his room and the attached bathroom with her thoughts racing. 

Steve Harrington used to be a total douchebag. She hadn’t been wrong about that. But this is a totally different Steve, stumbling and full of guilt and a hefty portion of his dad’s liquor cabinet. This is, actually, a lot like Steve on Russian truth drugs. (There’s even a bathroom this time too, Steve hunched over the toilet and Robin trying to keep his hair out of harm’s way.) This is the boy who doesn’t treat her like a freak for liking girls instead of guys. The only person she’s ever told her secret, and isn’t holding it over her head the way she’s always had nightmares about. (Her nightmares have plenty of new material to work with now, anyway.)

He’s all alone, and not taking very good care of himself when left to his own devices after a buttload of fresh trauma, from the looks of it. So. 

Robin is going to be here for him as much as she needs. Not because she owes him or anything, but because this Steve deserves to have someone relentlessly in his corner. And since his parents seem to have abdicated that responsibility, that someone will just have to be her.

-

Robin can’t believe what she’s hearing. 

That Eddie, who knows a thing or two (hundred) about being treated like a freak, who’d fought with them in the trenches of saving the world from unknown horrors, would do something like that. To Steve. 

But there’s also Wayne Munson, who she knows now. Not as well as Steve, who looks more comfortable in this house than she’d ever seen him back in his parents’ place, but he’s a good person. A kind man, someone she can’t fault Steve for helping to save. 

The two things don’t fit in her head, and she has to pace while trying to wrap her brain around it because otherwise she feels like she might explode. 

“Okay,” she says, finally wheeling on him with a glare. “Okay. So you knowingly let some guy blackmail you, homophobically and hypocritically, because you thought he was hot and Dustin was sad?”

“Well—”

“And,” she interrupts shrilly, “you didn’t tell me. You hid not having enough money to eat—”

“I still ate,” Steve protests. “And I learned to make all those casseroles, you love those!”

Robin storms back over to the couch. There aren’t any decorative pillows like there had been at his parents house, because the Munsons don’t go in for that extra frills sort of shit. She snatches one of the cushions instead and thumps him on the head with it, making him drop his pizza in his lap.

“Aw shit, toppings side down. . . .”

“Steve,” she snaps. 

He looks up, holding the rescued slice in his hand and licking a glob of red sauce he’d scraped off his jeans off his other thumb. “I didn’t tell you,” he agrees, voice heavy. “You would’ve tried to talk me out of it and I couldn’t just. . . . Not after Barb.”

“Just because Nancy said so doesn’t mean what happened to Barb was your fault, Steve,” Robin reminds him. She's about ready to throw the entire cushion at him in frustration because they’ve had so many talks about that now. Has none of it stuck?! “But guilt or not, that doesn’t make what Eddie did okay!”

“I know,” Steve says quickly. He’s got those big damn puppy dog eyes that all but bleed sincerity. “I know it’s not okay. And that it’s not my fault about Barb.” There’s pepperoni and veggies on his leg; he starts picking them up and putting them back on his pizza. “I didn’t know that if I’d done something different, she might not have died. But I knew that about this, okay? Eddie was working himself to death and it still wasn’t enough, and I knew I could help.” 

The without getting the shit kicked out of me goes unspoken, but Robin knows his track record with that and can read between the lines. It’s almost definitely the easiest time he’s had saving a life since 1983.

But still.

"Blackmail isn't the cornerstone of a stable loving relationship, Steve!"

“I know.” Steve sighs, and goes to rake a hand through his hair before remembering just in time that it’s covered in pizza sauce and grease. “I know. . . . We’ve saved each other's lives though, Rob. And we’ve talked it all out, okay?”

She frowns, squeezing the couch cushion in frustration. “Not okay.”

“Come on. I know it was a shitty thing to do, and so does Eddie. You forgave me for years of being a douchebag, can’t you forgive him for this one thing?”

One thing. One thing, when said thing was threatening to out someone? Holding it against their throat, against Steve’s throat, like a broken bottle with actual intent to spill blood? How could she possibly, possibly not hold that against Eddie, when just the thought of it made her adrenaline spike and pulse race because being forcibly outed in Hawkins fucking Indiana is literally her own worst nightmare?!

Or, well. One of.

Steve is still giving her the damn puppy dog eyes. He looks so sad, whereas he’d looked so happy a moment ago, in a dumb, goofy, sappy way that she’d never quite seen from him about any of the parade of girls he’d gone out with since after Starcourt. It’s almost as though he thinks his epic quest to find The One (she can never help but crack a smile when she thinks of it as ‘finding his Suzie,’ and she’s upset right now, dammit, this is no time for grinning) has finally come to an end.

With Eddie Munson, who until ten minutes ago she would have said was a nerdy but perfect match for him. 

And, okay. She doesn’t want to be the reason Steve looks sad. He’s old enough to make his own decisions, and if he seems happy with them then it’s not up to her to rip that happiness to shreds, even over perfectly reasonable concerns. 

After a long moment Robin drops back into the couch next to him, clutching the cushion to her chest. “I still wish you’d told me. I would’ve shared my food with you. I would’ve known not to bum off of yours, and forced you to take gas money!”

“Robs, no,” Steve groans, then shoves a big bite of his messed up pizza slice in his mouth and keeps talking around it. “I told you a million times, I don’t want to be treated like a taxi driver.”

As if she doesn’t know for a fact that he threatens Dustin and the rest of the kids that he’s going to start charging for rides at least once a week. He’d explained to her once—after a night hanging out with Argyle and the rest of the older Hawkins crew, and everything had been hilarious at the time—that he doesn’t want the little shits to take it for granted and act as entitled as he used to.

Steve Harrington is too fucking good for his own good these days, even if he is a total dingus about it a lot of the time. 

And she’ll deal with Eddie later. Right now she’s hanging out with her best friend, and that’s far more important than putting the fear of Robin into a skinny metalhead.

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #robin pov #protective robin #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steve harrington #somewhere across town eddie is definitely freaking out

[questionablequeeries]

Your Kiss Is On My List by Hall and Oates

“Kiss me.”

“…Excuse me?” Steve looked at Eddie, who was slightly out of breath as he burst into the Family Video, clutching a paper and camera.

“Kiss me so I can get a picture.” Eddie clarified, thereby making shockingly even less sense.

Steve put a hand on his hip and arched a brow, “Why?” He highly doubted it was a spur of the moment thing, though there was the less logical part that screamed at him to shut up and accept the man’s offer.

Eddie let out a long, dramatic sigh before slapping his paper onto the counter, “I’m doing a scavenger hunt. You know, the one the radio station’s putting on?”

“…Okay?”

“And the more outlandish the thing you can bring in, the more points you get.” Eddie stopped there as if that should be obvious, and Steve was impressed by the much longer, far more dramatic sigh when he realized there were no dots being connected. He wondered if he should applaud, “I have everything except the last thing, and that’s worth the most.”

Steve’s eyes trailed down to the bottom of the page before he frowned, “‘The impossible’? Eddie, if this is because it’s impossible for me to kiss boys, I think I’ve been out way too long for it to shock anyone that I’m bi.” And he wasn’t stupid, knew the influence of the Harrington name protected him slightly from the backlash Eddie received for the very same ‘crime’. Well, similar. Eddie was completely gay, and Steve wasn’t planning on looking too deeply inside of himself to figure out why that delighted him.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “No, it’s because it’s impossible for King Steve to be kissing The Freak. I’ll get, like, a billion points for that!” He grinned like he hadn’t said something that absolutely broke Steve’s heart.

“Hey, why do you think that?” Steve frowned, the joyful air sucked out of the room.

“Because you’re perfect and I’m literally just me.” Eddie crossed his arms and looked down, toeing the carpet with his sneaker, “You’re everything I’m not, so it’s kinda tough to think you’d ever go for someone like me.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Not exactly a catch as a super super super senior.”

“You only had to repeat because you were in a coma.” Steve argued, “And you were in a coma because you were saving Dustin. That deserves some accolades.”

Eddie shrugged again then sighed, but this time it was far too real for Steve’s liking, “Look, can I get the picture or not? Daylight’s burning.” He waggled his Polaroid.

“…Fine.” Steve nodded, grabbing a sticky note and scribbling something down. He leaned over and there were sudden sparks waiting for him. He was sure his heart was about to beat right out of its chest as he was enveloped by the scent of cigarettes and cologne, the taste of Hubba Bubba, the feeling of slight chap and the beginning of a five o’clock shadow. With a flash of light, it was over far too soon for his liking.

Eddie grabbed the picture as it printed, shaking it to make it dry faster, “Thanks, I’ll be sure to buy you something with the prize mo-“ His voice caught in his throat as he stared down, face becoming a new and exciting shade of red. Yes, there was the kiss but, below it, was a post-it note clutched between Steve’s thumb and forefinger, facing the camera: ‘Eddie, will you go out with me this Friday? -Steve’

Steve decided to break the stretching silence, “You could buy me dinner.” And his grin grew to match the one before him, both equally delighted by the possibility of the impossible.

The newest prompt by @steddie-week, and you can follow along on AO3:

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steddieweek2023 #they’re dorks your honor #questionable writes

[laundrybiscuits]

Hey hey adoring battleship move incoming, so how about: 16 for that Spotify prompt? Hope life (the move? There was talk about a move I think?) Is treating you well!

can you tell I’ve been posing / this way alone for hours / waiting for your affection / waiting for you

Steve had still been feeling pretty stupid until maybe five or ten minutes ago. He’s not sure exactly what happened, but something had shifted right around the time he’d realized it was too late to get everything untied and put away before Eddie was due back. Even if he changes his mind right now, he won’t have enough time to hide the evidence. There’s no backing out of this anymore.

It’s not his usual kind of thing. None of this is. He doesn’t do any of this, normally.

But someone had donated a bag of VHS tapes to the library, and Steve got assigned to go through them, and there had been one—

It hadn’t looked that difficult, and he’d told himself he was just curious. He’s always been good with his hands, so how tough could some knots be? 

Pretty tough, as it turns out, but manageable. He works through the basic ties pretty quickly, and he’s still flexible enough to do a lot of it himself, even though the video is very clearly meant for someone to do on someone else. 

The idea is…not unappealing. As he works through securing his ankles in a messy double-column tie, it’s easy to start thinking about what it might be like to loop the rope around someone’s wrists and pull it snug. Yeah, he could see why people might like that kind of thing. It takes a lot of trust, right? There’s no way to laugh it off, when someone hands you that kind of control. It’d be exactly like saying I can take it, I want to take it. Whatever you want to give me. 

And that’s when he gets the idea.

It takes a little more preparation and a shopping trip, because he can already tell that the random stuff he’s been using to try different knots isn’t going to be comfortable enough for what he’s planning. Plus, he likes the idea of getting something that’ll look good on his skin. Something that makes people want to touch.

By this point, he’s stopped pretending that this is anything other than what it is: a hail-mary, last-ditch attempt to get Eddie Munson’s hands on him again. 

He doesn’t try for anything too advanced, just the easiest harness on the tape and a frog tie holding his legs into a kneeling position. He practices the whole thing all together a couple times and it seems to go okay. He wastes some rope early on when he fucks up a knot so bad he has to shuffle all the way to the kitchen and grab some scissors to cut it, but it’s fine, he’d bought enough silky blue rope to tie a dozen harnesses at once. It had been way too expensive for freaking rope, but it had looked so much better than the hemp that he’d handed over the cash without a second thought. 

He doesn’t try cuffs or a collar. It’s not—the cuffs feel okay, actually; the rope is soft and snug, and he can glance down any time and see how good the blue looks looped around his wrists. But he struggles to get them tied evenly when he’s one-handed, and he doesn’t want it to look sloppy. 

Eddie likes effort. It’s a weird thing to notice about a friend, even a friend you might’ve hooked up with a couple times. It’s pretty obvious, though; Steve watched him run a game for the kids once, and promptly decided never to watch again. 

Eddie throws all of himself into the game, all the time. It’s so much work. Steve’s seen the pages and pages of notes he keeps in his ragged binders, the way he commits to acting out all the different characters even when he sounds objectively dumb, how he gets so caught up in the moment that he’ll climb up on the goddamn table. Eddie never holds back.

He demands a lot from his players, too. They can fail. But even in that one game that Steve watched, it was obvious that Eddie doesn’t want them to fail; he just wants them to win while struggling against the toughest possible challenge. He wants to find their limits, and then push just a little to find their real limits. 

Nothing’s happened with Eddie since before Steve saw that stupid game, but now it’s all mixed up in his head. He keeps thinking about how Eddie had crowded close, hands hovering and light, darting in and then away again; he keeps thinking about what it would be like to hear Eddie’s voice sound the way it does when he’s telling his players off, firm and deep, as he put his hands wherever he wanted on Steve. 

So that’s what Steve’s been thinking about lately. 

And it’s why he’s here on Eddie’s bed, frog-tied and wearing a rope harness that he wishes he’d done a little fancier, because he thinks Eddie would appreciate that. Every time he’s tried a fancier harness it’s gone wrong or looked weird, though, so this will have to do. He hopes it’s enough. 

He’s not worried about it, exactly, because all of that stuff seems far away and smoothed over right now. He can remember worrying about a bunch of stuff, like whether he should be wearing clothes or not. He’d settled on just underwear because it had seemed a little too vulnerable to go without, but now that he’s all settled and feeling pretty good, he thinks that was a dumb thing to worry about.

Despite the weird way Eddie’s been avoiding him lately, Eddie had really seemed to like his dick at least twice before, so even if it’s not anything more for Eddie—even if dick is the only thing Eddie wants from Steve—he should get to have it. Eddie should get whatever he wants.

Steve shuts his eyes. He fills his lungs all the way, feeling the harness grip him a little tighter, and he exhales slowly.

He waits for the door to open.

Send me a number between 1-100 and I'll write a ficlet based on the corresponding song from my Spotify Wrapped! It will definitely be gay and may possibly be musical theater

#hey! :D yep as of quite recently I no longer reside in London and it’s going pretty well so far #I miss the theatre scene and living 10min walk from Camden Market. I do not miss the monarchy and the Arts Council budget cuts. #anyway congrats on hitting one of the few explicitly and unambiguously kinky songs in the list #(I saw this live at the Japanese Breakfast show at Koko in June and it was so much fun) #general caveat that I’m writing this Steve as extremely new to even thinking about kink so he doesn’t really know what he’s doing #like...fic is never about best practices anyway #but also I will NEVER in my LIFE write Steve Harrington as fully self-actualised and making unambiguously great choices #ask games

[mintywolf]

A Long Road Home - Author Notes

Page 26

Laudna (getting up before Imogen) “Oh I don’t want her to be lonely, she was so upset last night, I’ll just leave Pâté here to keep her company.” Imogen (waking to find a dead rat with a bird skull head inches away from her face)

Baby Tillie is a whole Mood here. Tfw when you had a life-changing experience but no one believes you because you’re three. I’m so sorry, baby girl. Your soulmate exists but she’s 50 years, a continent, and a whole mountain of trauma away. :( :( :(

You know who the lady in the barn was, of course, but Imogen doesn’t, yet. The original script specified the PURPLE lady in the barn, but I decided Laudna might keep that detail from her for a while longer so as not to freak her out. As far as Imogen knows, Laudna is already in conversation with a lady that no one else can see, so this isn’t new information to her.

I enjoyed drawing this kitchen scene although it took a hundred years haha. I spent the entirety of the five-hour long episode 67 on just the linework for that last panel (for comparison I can usually get most of a page inked in that time). I particularly like the height chart near the door and the goat drawing on the cabinet. :D And the cats, of course!

I thought of having like, tiny spooky child handprints along with the goo dripping down the kitchen window but she’s only just started to wield her shadow powers, I don’t think she’d have that level of finesse or artistic sensibility yet. She hasn’t had time to hone her fears and imagination into works of illusory art yet; this is just a raw outpouring of emotion into an uncontrolled sorcerous doom cloud.

#a long road home #author notes