#please. i want him to squint at Link the first time he sees him and pause like he's waiting for three other links to show up too

[pocketramblr]

All these posts about Ganondorf in totk but not one agreeing with me that the best possible thing would actually be if this is the Ganondorf from fsa and not oot, because it'd be the funniest way to remind people that there was actually more than one and also then he would be truly unprepared for this Link and Zelda combo

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hello dear! How are you? Could you please do Perv! Chrollo if it's not too much trouble? I haven't seen much Perv Chrollo content out there, and I'd love to see that in your writing! You can ignore it if you want, have a nice day ♡ (Sorry if it seemed confusing, English is not my first language ☠️)

His pretty girl

Perv!Chrollo x Fem!Reader

warnings: perv behavior, panting stealing, reader is mentioned to be chubby, excessive gift giving, somno, dubcon, reader is innocent and naive, breeding kink, pregnancy, bit of Yandere chrollo if you squint, Chrollo calls you princess/angel/goddess, minor manga spoilers about Shalnark

A/N: not the biggest chrollo fan but him being head over heels in love and just a big softy with his lover does do something for me.

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Unlike most pervs, Chrollo is much sneakier with his perversion. You won’t catch him sniffing your panties or jacking off to pictures of your cute face… but you will find pairs of your panties covered in his cum in your dresser, and lots of pictures of you saved on his phone if you go looking.

Chrollo absolutely adores you, he enjoys seeing you blush and stutter when you find a particularly nasty love letter stuffed into your mailbox, or those pair of missing lacy panties folded neatly on your bed, with strange stains on them.

He first fell for you when Shalnark introduced him to you. You met Shal through the Hunter exam years ago, though you didn’t pass. Regardless, the two of you stayed good friends, with Shal making sure you stayed safe while under his care.

But Shalnark was quick to back off the second Chrollo showed interest in you. You were just too cute, with your chubby frame and pretty face. Chrollo had never really put much thought into his sexual preferences, but seeing your plump ass and fat tits was enough to awaken something… sinful in him.

After that first meeting, you started receiving little gifts from him. At first, they were just pretty trinkets that Chrollo found on his missions, but as his obsession and adoration for you grew, those little trinkets because expensive dresses and luxurious jewelry.

At first you thought it was just him being generous with you, considering your living situation wasn’t the best. You were very appreciative, your cheeks heating up and your voice small when he smiled sweetly after you thanked him.

But over time, strange things started happening that you just couldn’t explain!

Your windows would be open in the morning when you were sure you closed them last night… and what was that sticky stuff on your face?

Chrollo had gotten into the habit of breaking in to watch you sleep. In the beginning, it was because he felt such intense love and care for you that he just couldn’t bear the thought of you getting harmed in your most vulnerable state!

He’d sit at the edge of your bed, reading a book while gently stroking your cheek. It was cute, you seemed so content and happy in your sleep when he was with you. It made his heart soar thinking that maybe, just maybe he had something to do with it.

But soon those soft and innocent intentions shifted when he noticed how… revealing your pajamas were sometimes. Those flimsy little shorts and the fact he could see your nipples through your thin white tanktop had his cock straining against his pants.

You always looked so soft and peaceful, something he wanted to protect and cherish. You were the only person linking him to the normal world, where your biggest problems were paying rent on time and figuring out what to eat for dinner, while his were trying to keep his friends from dying and which heist he should plan next.

You lived in a completely different world than him, and that was some of the appeal. Chrollo had never lived a normal life, but with you, he could have some shred of normalcy. He could marry you, make you his sweet little wife and live out the rest of his days keeping you happy and safe.

But… deep down Chrollo knew this was next to impossible. He was a wanted criminal, with more enemies than he could care to remember.

He still liked to imagine it, though. You, sitting in a rocking chair your swollen belly, carrying his child. He’d come home from a heist, carry you upstairs and ravish you, making sure to be extra careful with your delicate body.

Chrollo stroked his cock to this thought, his tip gently pressed against your lips as you slept. He’d done this exact things countless times… he hadn’t been expecting you to wake up right as he buckled his pants after cumming on your lips.

“… Chrollo?”

You rubbed your sleepy eyes, then wiped at your mouth, grimacing. Did you drool in your sleep? It was too dark to make out what was on your hand… but there was just enough light to see your friend Chrollo standing there, peering down at you with a slightly surprised expression.

He quickly took on his usual calm, charming facade. “Hello, (Name). Shal asked me to come watch over you. Apparently there’s been a few break ins in town that got both him and I worried for you.”

It was all lies, but something he loved about (Name) was her naïveté. You smiled sweetly, your cheeks heating up. “Really? You came to make sure I was okay?”

Chrollo nodded, setting his book on your nightstand before sitting at the edge of your bed. “Of course… I don’t think you understand just how much you mean to me, (Name).”

You didn’t have time to react, he was already leaning closer to you. His eyes were captivating in the moonlight, reflecting the light and shining like jewels.

“You’re divine, (Name), like an angel sent from Heaven just for me.”

He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lip. “I want you, more than anything.”

Hearing this from a handsome man like Chrollo felt unreal. He wanted you of all people? It was hard to believe.

As if sensing your hesitancy, Chrollo tilted up your chin. “Do you want me to show you?”

Before you could answer, his lips met yours. He had been holding back for so long, he needed this, he needed you. You were always so sweet to him, making sure he was eating well and even coming to visit him when you could. How could he ever ask for anything more than you?

It wasn’t long before his tongue entered your mouth and his hands slipped under your shirt to grab at your perky, plump tits. You whines softly into his mouth as his thumbs ran over your sensitive nipples.

“Like that, princess?”

He gave them a soft pinch, biting down on your lip as he moved one hand to your shorts. He didn’t both with taking them off, he ripped them and pinned you down, one hand pinning your wrists and the other unbuckling his pants.

“My darling…”

His eyes settled on your pretty cunt, wet and glistening in the moonlight. Chrollo had a few one nights stands in the past, but he never felt like this before. Your pussy, all wet and ready for him was enough to have him groaning into your neck as his cock sunk into your warm heat.

He grabbed onto your hips, his fingers sinking into the soft fat. You were so cute, tears pooling down your cheeks as you blubbered incoherently, too fucked out to speak. He leaned forward and kissed those soft lips of yours, so soft and gentle with his little angel.

“Shh, just take me okay? Fuck, you’re divine, my angel, my goddess…”

With one leg over his shoulder as he pressed your bodies together, Chrollo fucked into you. He tried his best to restrain himself, but god you looked way too pretty when you came around his cock for the third time.

You clung to him for comfort and some sort of stability as he mercilessly pounded your sensitive cunt. “Pretty, god you’re just gorgeous, my sweet girl…”

By the end of the night, you were too exhausted to even speak, your pussy full of his seed. He held you now, cooing softly as he peppered kisses along your cheeks and jaw. “Did so well, such a good girl…”

From then on Chrollo’s obsession with you would only deepen. He’d marked you up, leaving love bites all over your neck and chest. You were his, and he’d make sure everyone knew that.

It wasn’t long before he had moved you away, somewhere you could be together and also under the radar. After Shalnark’s death, he became a bit paranoid that Hisoka would come after you next.

So now there you were, belly swollen with his child as he held you in his lap, his palm resting on your baby bump.

Chrollo had you, and although it wasn’t quite the life he had expected, he was still happy with it. You were here with him, carrying his baby and unable to get a way, even if you wanted to.

And that was enough for him.

[dearlyjun]

10:47 PM ☆ k. mingyu

☆ PAIRING: nonidol!boyf!mingyu x f!reader (could potentially be considered afab as no gendered terms are used)

☆ GENRE: SMUT (18+ only please or get blocked)

☆ SUMMARY: you and your boyfriend plan to take a shower together and well, things change.

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.5k

☆ WARNINGS: making out, necklace pulling, nipple play, teeth scraping, marking, fingering, clitoral stimulation, bulge/size kink if you squint, eye contact, foul language, multiple orgasms, spitting, lots of praise from mingyu, cumming inside. mentions of aftercare!!

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: ohhhhh boy buckle up. my first svt work! idk what made mingyu my member of choice but here we are! as always be nice, feedback is always appreciated. lmk your thoughtssss.

TAGLIST LINKED IN PINNED POST!

and a big thank you to lia @miupow and ari @silvergyus for allowing me to share this with them first and tell me if it sucks! <3

“we’re wasting water, you know.” you slightly joked, tangling your fingers into mingyu’s hair as he pressed light kisses to your jaw.

the two of you had planned to take a shower together, but decided to turn on the water for it to warm up. one thing led to another and now here you were; half undressed and making out on the bathroom counter.

“that’s your fault.” mingyu spoke lowly, his face in the crook of your neck. the room was getting hot and steamy by the second as the water was still running.

His hands slipped underneath the large t shirt that you were wearing, and you let out a whimper when he started to toy with your nipples that hardened under his touch.

“mingyu.” You softly spoke his name. like a quiet plea for something, and mingyu knew exactly what it was.

He quickly pulled the shirt off of your body, and you pulled him closer to you by his necklace.

“pulling on me.” He mumbled against your mouth before kissing you deeply, his body now slotted perfectly between your legs. You ran your fingers through his hair with one hand as he kissed below your jaw; his teeth scraping you every so often.

You hummed, leaning your head back to expose your entire neck to him.

His hands were roaming, and your mind was too in a haze to follow them. Mingyu pulled the fabric of your underwear away from your cunt, immediately slipping two of his fingers inside of you.

You immediately let out a whine as Mingyu muttered ‘fuck’ under his breath. He was fucking into you with his fingers hard, practically going to his knuckles each time.

Having to hold onto his upper body with one hand; you were afraid you’d fall, but knew you couldn’t possibly hurt Mingyu no matter how hard you gripped onto him.

You happened to look down at mingyu’s fingers disappearing in and out of you; your underwear completely ruined from your arousal. with his free hand, he lifted your chin to kiss him. The kiss was soft in comparison to the way his fingers were pummeling you.

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” His face was close to yours as he pulled his fingers out of you, moving to pull down and take off your underwear all of the way.

You hummed, allowing him to move your legs further apart even more; whimpering when his fingers were inside of you again. This time you could tell that he had three inside of you.

“Gyu….fuck. Oh my god.” You were practically seeing stars and he wasn’t even using his cock.

“I know baby, I know.” Mingyu was sort of leaning over you, his breathing heavy. “Look at me.”

You looked up at him, and he almost lost it.

“Fuck. You look so pretty.” He kissed you. “God I want to ruin you. Fuck.” He kissed you again, this time it was sloppy, his teeth hitting yours.

“I’m gonna cum, gyu. Fuck.” You whimpered; legs already starting to shake.

“I know, I know.” Mingyu was watching the way his fingers disappeared inside of you. “I can feel you clenching me; I got you.”

It crashed into you; blindsiding you. because all of a sudden you were trembling, whining Mingyu’s name over and over again. You thought you might have slipped on the counter because Mingyu suddenly put his hand against the mirror behind your head to stop you from hitting it.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu had a stupid grin on his face having rocked your world with just his fingers.

You nodded, but breathing hard. “Yeah, yeah. Want you to fuck me, gyu. Please.”

“Yeah, you can take me?” Mingyu kissed you, one of his hands sneaking down to press down onto your now over sensitive clit; making you whine.

“Yes, I always do.” You reached for his underwear, hooking your fingers underneath the waistband and maneuvering them down.

Mingyu watched your every move, hips bucking forwards when you wrapped your hand around his length; pressing your thumb against the tip that was leaking with precum.

Mingyu’s hand quickly replaced yours. “Hold your legs for me?”

You put your hands behind both of your knees, doing as mingyu said. He hummed in approval as you felt like you were nearly bent in half.

Mingyu tapped the head of his cock against your clit, then subtly sliding between your folds. Surely he was making a mess out of you. Unexpectedly, he leaned down, letting a glob of spit fall directly onto where your clit and his cock met.

A moan slipped right out of your mouth, making mingyu lock eyes with you.

“Yeah, you like that?” His voice was low as he lifted your chin up.

You hummed in response, sort of unable to form the words. Just nodding as Mingyu leaned in to kiss you.

At the same time, he pushed his cock inside of you; going slow on purpose so that you could feel every inch of him.

“Hghh…fuck.” You whined as you couldn’t even kiss him back. Your legs were shaking again as he was inside of you all of the way.

“Already shaking….” Mingyu muttered under his breath, watching where your bodies connected; he replaced your hands with his and held your legs apart.

You couldn’t protest, because he was right. He was probably going to make you cum soon.

“Mingyu. Please.” You barely finished the sentence, fighting back a moan to speak.

“Yeah, say my name.” His voice was breathy, almost slightly unsteady. “Let me hear you.”

You were desperately grabbing onto him; probably leaving marks in the path of your fingernails. It was egging him on, grunting as he was slamming into you now;knowing you enjoyed it.

“Fuck.” Tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes. Mingyu must have noticed because he made you look at him again.

“Look so pretty…” He let out a slight whimper, making your cunt clench. Mingyu looked down, watching his cock move in and out of you. You followed his gaze, letting out a high pitched moan when you saw what he was looking at. “Fuck, can you feel me right there?” He pressed two fingers to your lower stomach.

You frantically nodded to appease him because he would ask again. “Yes!” You squeezed your eyes shut; not sure if your eyes were burning from sweat or tears.

“You’re so close. Clenching me so fucking good.” Mingyu’s voice had a slight whine to it; like he was going to cum almost any second.

“Feels so good, yeah.” You moaned, eyes drifting shut as Mingyu was pounding himself into you.

You moved your hand in between your legs to rub slow circles onto your clit; making your walls clench and you nearly yelped.

Mingyu grunted, watching you make yourself fall apart. Finally he pulled your hand away, replacing your fingers with his and finally you broke.

“Mingyu!” Your moan sounded more like a sob, and if Mingyu couldn’t see your face he’d think that you were crying. Your nails dug into his arms only to scrape down his biceps, making him suck a breath in through his teeth. surely he’d deal with any marks at another time.

You felt like the room was closing in on you; probably chanting Mingyu’s name over and over.

“Yeah, take it. Take it.” Mingyu grunted, watching how your body shook; shut tightly.

He grabbed your jaw, making you look at him. Mingyu kissed you softly, but moaned against your mouth before biting onto your bottom lip.

“Cum in me…” you spoke, locking eye contact with him. You knew that was his ultimate weakness.

“Yeah?” Mingyu answered, moaning loudly when you reached your hand to twirl your fingers around his chain necklace.

“Mhm.” A whine slipped out of your mouth as Mingyu seemed to be fucking into you harder than before. “Please.” You were pulling on his necklace again.

“Fuck!” Mingyu swore, slamming his cock fully inside of your cunt before cumming inside of you.

You bit down onto your bottom lip, and you were afraid to move because of how much of a mess he just made of you. When he pulled out, you winced at the feeling of him dripping out of you.

Mingyu was already looking, feeling quite satisfied himself. “Look so pretty like that; me dripping out of you.”

He used two of his fingers to try and push it back inside of you, making you let out an audible cry.

“Too much. You ruined me….im exhausted.”

“Exhausted?” Mingyu asked, brushing a few stray pieces of hair out of your face. “Now we really have to take a shower.”

“I know…but I don’t want to…wanna go to sleep.” You had a pout on your face that usually Mingyu could never say no to; this time he wasn’t backing down.

“No, no we’re going to. I’ll help you wash up, you can just stand there in the water. Then, we can turn on the tv, get into our pajamas, and watch a show in our nice warm bed.” He was kissing you in between sentences. “I can even make you a late night snack. Sound good?”

You sighed, after all you could never say no to mingyu.

“Yes, help me down okay?”

[kayhi808]

First Crush -12

It was an epic battle of wills, Abigail Rose vs Mama. Abby needed to go down for her nap, but she didn't want to. You understood. Today was so much fun. So many new things to see and do, but you also knew what a grump she could be when she's tired and fussy. You also knew she'd be staying up late with the fireworks and you didn't want your exhausted baby ruining it for anyone.

"Pleeease, Mama! I don't wants to. I don't wike it." Your baby's eyes fill will large tears.

"You take naps after lunch everyday. Today is no different," brushing her hair off her forehead.

"No, Mama."

You had walked off further into the picnic area, pulling a blanket out of her backpack, so she could nap outdoors and still be at the fair. "It's your choice, do you want to nap here, back at Bucky's place, or we can go straight home." Abby stomps her foot. "When you wake up from your nap, we'll go back to playing. We can do face painting. How would you like that?" Abby shakes her head & her tears start to fall. "You can be a bunny and I can be a piggy."

"NO!"

"Hey, don't yell at me Abby."

"I don't wike you!" Bucky sees you flinch at her words. She pulls away from you and runs to Bucky, "I don't wants to nap. I's not tired. Please Bucky." Her little hands swiping the tears from her chubby cheeks. Bucky looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

Sternly but quietly, "Abigail, come here. Now." Abby doesn't leave Bucky's side. "I said, now."

She cries louder, but waddles back to you. You hold her hands & tilt her chin up so she's looking at you. "I'm your Mama. Not Bucky. You listen to me. You want to get Bucky into trouble??" Bucky gives you a mischievous smile. You squint a glare back at him.

"N...no, Mama."

"If I tell you no, you don't go to someone else and ask them. I already said no. Doing that is bad."

"I's not bad girl."

You gather her onto your lap, "No, you're not a bad girl. You made a mistake, but now you know that's not a good thing to do." She sticks her thumb in her mouth & nods.

"I sowwy," she mumbles around her thumb.

Bucky walks over and lays at the edge of the blanket, "Maybe we should all take a nap." Abby gets up and lays next to Bucky on her tummy. You settle next to her, rubbing & patting her back. She's facing Bucky but after a few minutes you look at him and mouth "Is she sleeping?" He nods.

"I'm sorry she came to you like that."

"It's ok." He rolls over onto his back, looking up at the sky.

"You were going to be a sucker and cave."

Bucky chuckles, rubbing his chest, "I would have. I'd give anything for her not to look at me like that."

"My baby isn't stupid. She knew who the weakest link was," you quietly laugh. Bucky grabs a handful of grass and tossed it at you.

"You're a good mom. It doesn't look easy, but you make it look effortless." Bucky sees a tear slip from the corner of you eye, disappearing into your hairline. "Doll?"

You turn, giving him a sad smile. "Thank you. Half the time I don't know what I'm doing. I'm so scared of messing up with her and having her grow up to hate me."

Bucky jumps up & pulls you to your feet so he can hold you. "You know she didn't mean what she said. She was angry." Music from the stage is playing and he sways back & forth with you. You get in a good little cry, disguised as dancing. "She's so lucky to have you as her mom. And she adores you! You've raised a happy child."

"Except at nap time."

"Today is a one off."

Raising on tip-toe, you kiss his cheek, "Thanks, Buck."

*******

While Abby sleeps, you and Bucky enjoy a couple dances. He runs away to grab you ice cream sandwiches, saying you earned it. You both finish quickly in case Abby wakes up. It's your little secret. Natasha and Steve drop by saying they'll stay with Abby if you and Bucky wanted to enjoy the fairgrounds together. You're unsure about leaving Abby. "Doll, she's safer than anyone here. She's got Captain America and Black Widow watching over her. 30 minutes and we'll come back." Bucky grabs your hand and you let him lead you away.

You return to the midway games and challenge each other to, basketball, water guns, bean bag toss, shooting gallery, and anything you could find to compete against him. You collected your tickets so you could return with Abby to redeem them later.

Bucky picks out a pair of fairy wings for Abby. "Are you serious?"

"Does she already have a pair of wings?"

"No, but..."

"Think of how cute she'll look when she rides her unicorn later. Oh, were you going to get her wings?"

Laughing, "I didn't win that many tickets. I was going to let her choose new story books."

He wraps his arm around your neck bringing you in for a kiss. "See, perfect."

*****

Abby woke up from her nap so excited to see everyone there. Steve had gotten her some "banoons" which she loves so much. And then Bucky showed her her fairy wings and she went crazy. She had to put it on immediately! Poor Steve got one-upped again.

Throughout the afternoon, their picnic got bigger. Clint and his family joined in. Tony, Pepper and Morgan visited. Abby and Morgan became fast friends. They played in the jumper house, and rode the mini train together. They sat through getting their face painted, turning them into 2 little kittens.

After dinner, Abby wanted a dance party so you danced with your baby. Thankful this time she didn't give you instructions on how to "shake it" like before. Your little ringleader got everyone dancing. One of her favorite songs comes on and she tries to get Bucky to sing it with her but he doesn't know it . She only likes singing the chorus.

Me-e-e, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm the only one of me

Baby, that's the fun of me

Eeh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e

You shake your head at your 3 year old Swifty shaking her bottom so her dress swishes. She smiles up at you with so much joy. No one is going to love her like you do. She's your world.

The fireworks are about to start. Abby has only seen them on videos and TV. Pepper gave you an extra pair of earplugs for Abby. She oohs and ahhhs along with everybody else. Bucky puts her on his shoulders so she could be closer to them. She wanted to catch the sparkles in her hands.

You make you way back the the Residence. Abby is chatting non-stop about everything that happened today. It was a struggle to get her to wash the face paint off. You blamed it on Bucky. You told her that if she got his pillows all dirty he might not invite them back. She quickly consented to scrubbing her face.

Bucky offered to read her a story while you showered. When you got out of the bathroom, Abby was sound asleep. "She didn't even make it 5 pages in." You trade spots while he cleans up.

He leaves the bathroom with his wet hair, flopped over his forehead still looking handsome as ever. He sits on the couch, pulling you to straddle his lap. Your lips immediately seek his. His hands on your hips bringing you flushed against him. A soft moan escapes you both. His tongue glides across your lower lip seeking entrance. Which you eagerly grant. Your fingers threading through his hair at the nape of his neck. Your tongue teases his and his fingers creep under your shirt palming your breasts.

"Mama?!"

Bucky tosses you off him and into the corner of the couch. You laugh at his panicked expression and surprised at his strength. "Yes, baby?" You get up and go to Bucky's room. Abby's sitting up in the middle of the bed.

"This not my bed."

"We're spending the night a Bucky's house, remember?"

"Can yous sleeps wit me?" Reaching out with grabby hands. Sighing, "Of course."

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05

Bucky tucks you both in, and drops kisses on you. "We'll figure something out," he whispers in your ear. You smile and nod, pulling Abby against you as she tries to sleep.

Uncle Steve

[raviosrupees]

My parent rates LU Link's based on first impressions

[warning foul language, mention of alcohol, and my parents very negative impression of Wars !!! note this is my parents impression based off of the LU concept sketches + descriptions. a lot of em aren't accurate]

TIME

Very God of War, Kratos. PTSD Link.

when all the others are hanging out he's in the cups. He fought the moon? Sounds about right. Everyone else is talking and goofing off and he's got the thousand yard stare.

No one talks about how he cant get a full nights sleep. Please let him nap. Maybe let the owl take a nap too.

*stares at him for a very long time, before taking a sip of mimosa*

TWILIGHT

blond hiccup [httyd] very viking. Humble? Hiccup. Animal whisperer? Does he have a dragon? he turns in to a wolf? good for hiccup. getting over a complicated relationship? ...... h-

OH HE HAS GOATS? I love goats! Love this guy.

WARRIORS

Ah, douchy paladin! Yeah he's got the hip flex, he knows he's the shit. Very prideful? Of course you are. Leader type? Women problems? Not surprised. [said they most wanted to punch this one]

"This one writes himself. On Reddit forums"

FOUR [their 3rd fav]

"eeny meeny hippy genie" They've got the weird flowy scarf hat, they're super tiny! Dwarf.. chaos gremlin-- No that's a changeling! I don't think that's actually a Link, I think they faked their way in. Not that I blame them, its a pretty cool crew to be a part of. Spy for the fae realm.

WILD

5th grade school photo link. He's really excited for his first day of school and has a planner for all of his classes.

Good at navigation? Kudos for being a good boy scout.

Her 2nd favorite.

WILD

"Legolas Link" he likes to run on snow, flip his hair back + forth and shit talk dwarves [changeling doesn't like that]

"takes any questioning of his princess too personally? Why are they questioning his princess in the first place? *squints* Why is he so upset? Feel like maybe we need some codependency therapy-

IDENTITY CRISIS DUE TO MEMORY LOSS???? oh no, there we go, the therapy- INSECURE? THE ONLY ONE THAT FAILED? Dude, I think douchy paladin needs to take him to therapy-, maybe it'll convince him to get some too.

Proceeds to go into a rant about his sheikah tech being called weird magic: "Why are they calling his magic weird? That's rude ! They need to have more open minds, no wonder he's insecure! He just needs to feel confident and supported in his new environment and they're not being very supportive right now!"

*orders another mimosa*

LEGEND [their favorite]

"We've got stoner wizard link..." "Which one?" "He's wearing red, and like a fancy staff with a ball at the end for walloping on people who say he's not a real wizard" He just smacks em and says duh yes I am, but usually he doesn't bother with it bc he's too chill.

He's the Millenial of the linked universe. "Chooses not to be a leader type? 'Nope, Im good, just here for a paycheck not a promotion. Some PTO would be nice. Another adventure? He'd rather start a commune"

"Seems unaffected by his adventures?" Uhh he is though. He's just delusional about it now.

HYRULE

Classic link [true] silent generation, nobody acknowledges him. "just happy to be included," mistaken as a hobbit.

"He's actually a traveler, never stays in one place" "Ah so post adventure Bilbo baggins, who wants to see mountains again."

*starts singing "the road goes ever on and on"*

SKY

Foppy link. Fabulous haircut, cape swooped over one shoulder with the gorgeous coloring, contrasting belt-- he knows color schemes way too well, he could be in project runway.

"Not the leader type? Sure he's too busy worrying about fabric swatches. Views the master sword as a blessing? Yeah, I bet he does."

Very confidently decided his Zelda is a beard.

[norrizzandpia]

The Youngest Love (Chapter One of What We Could’ve Been and What We Are Now) (LN4)

Summary: A backstory to a love story.

Warnings: none, fluff

Note: this one is not that eventful bc I didn’t want to leave yall on a major cliffhanger or anything like that seeing as i am entering into my official finals week and definitely will not have time to post updates for this or anything else i hope you like it tho! And will stick around for the next chapters 🫶🏻

Series Links: Masterlist, Chapter Links, and the Playlist

“Oh, hey! I got the job!” Jon smiles from across the dinner table, his sparkling eyes meeting his wife’s and daughter’s. One hand holds his phone while the other still clutches his fork, his food getting colder by the second as he stares at the bright screen.

Amy, his wife, lets her eyebrows cinch together, “You mean the one with the Formula 3 kid?”

Jon nods, “Yeah, exactly! He’s 16, I think? Right around your age, Y/n.”

His daughter, Y/n, smiles with a closed mouth, her broccoli still being chewed on.

There’s a silence as Jon types out a message in response, his teeth shining under the low light of the kitchen while he grins at his new opportunity. There’s few things in the world that truly warm Y/n’s heart, her dad truly happy is one of them.

Amy applauds softly, a giggle emitting from her as she looks between her family, “When do you start?”

Jon draws out an ominous sound as his eyes squint to read his phone carefully, “Oh? Tomorrow, I guess.”

Amy stops chewing, “But, you said you’d take Y/n to the library tomorrow. Remember? She needs that textbook for her upcoming term.”

Jon’s mouth falls open and he nods in recognition, “Oh, sorry! Is it okay if she comes along? The library is on the way to the facility where I'll be training and really getting to know the boy. We can grab her book and then she can hang out while I’m working with him.”

Amy looks at her daughter, “You okay with that, Y/n?”

Y/n lets her head float to each side as she thinks it through, “No other alternative?”

Jon shakes his head, Amy shrugs her shoulders.

Huffing, Y/n agrees, “What’s his name?”

Jon smiles, “Lando.”

🏎️

Y/n inspects her new textbook as Jon leads her through the doors of the building. There’s loud commotion and chatter from every corner, but she’s so engrossed in trying to fix the tear in the back of her used book, that she’s not aware of any of it.

Jon mumbles to the reception, a conversation flourishing between them as he tries to sort out where he’s supposed to go. Still, Y/n smoothies down the flap that has ruined the state of her book. There’s a deep frown on her face as her dad begins to walk away, her footsteps falling in rhythm behind him.

When they enter the room, she’s lost hope for the cut and her eyes are finally returning to what’s in front of her.

Her dad speaks cordially with an older man toward the end of the room, leaving her in the presence of the boy her dad had mentioned the night before.

“You’re Lando, right?” She says softly, not truly comfortable being the one to speak first.

Lando smiles, “Yeah. What’s your name?”

She mimics his face, “Y/n. I’m Jon’s daughter.”

He nods, “Cool. Will you be around for the rest of the session today?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a ride anywhere else.” She chuckles, Lando joining her.

When their laughter dies down, Lando extends his hand in front of himself and speaks, “It’s nice to meet you, Jon’s daughter.”

She shakes his hand, “Nice to meet you, as well, my dad’s new client.”

🏎️

“Can I come along too?” Y/n pleads as Jon stands at the front door.

He frowns at her, “Y/n, the last times you came, you and Lando wouldn’t stop laughing. It distracts him. It stops the work we need to do to get him prepared for the season.”

His daughter groans obnoxiously, “Dad! I promise, it won’t happen this time.”

He squints at her, “You said that last time.”

She shakes her head, “Please?”

This time, it’s Jon who’s groaning, “Fine.”

🏎️

TWO YEARS LATER

“Yeah, and I never stopped coming after that. My dad stopped trying to fight it, I guess.” Y/n laughs into Lando’s side, her head bumping into his shoulder.

Lando smiles down at her, “I know! He just accepted it. I mean, it wasn’t like you were the only one trying to get him to bring you back to our sessions.”

Y/n’s head shoots up, tilting in confusion, “What do you mean? You were too?”

Lando nods eagerly, “Yeah, of course! I kept texting him asking if you were coming that day.”

“Yeah, it was annoying.” Jon’s voice cuts through the two’s incessant giggling. Their faces staring at him as he walks over to Lando and grabs hold of his sweatshirt sleeve.

Jon smiles down at them with pursed lips, “And look at you now, my lovely daughter! Still distracting him from his training! Making my life harder!”

Y/n smacks her dad’s arm as he pulls Lando from his chair, “Dad! Rude!”

He chuckles, placing a kiss on her forehead, “You know, I joke.”

Her cheeks warm at him, “I know.”

“But, for now!” He yelps, startling the two teens with his volume, “Let me train Lando. Stay here.”

Lando scoffs, “She makes it so much more fun, though! Jon, you are a buzzkill.”

Jon perseveres, pulling Lando out of the room, “Thank me when you’re a World Champion.”

Lando, just before his body disappears from the door, yells out to his best friend, “Meet me after! For Lunch, Y/n! You know where!”

She shakes her head as he is dragged out. She laughs as she hears his yelps to Jon down the hall, apparently her father was being too rough with him.

Lunch would be interesting.

🏎️

Lando’s head pulls to the side as Jon pulls the strap attached to Lando’s head towards himself.

“When are you going to ask my daughter out?” Jon says, quickly, a knowing smirk on his face as Lando’s eyes fall open and he leaps from his seat.

“Woah!” Lando looks manically at Jon, his mouth opening and closing at the question.

Jon takes the strap off Lando’s head, scoffing and thrashing his arms at his side, “Lando, we’ve had this conversation multiple times. Don’t act surprised.”

Lando huffs and brings his arms to cross in front of him, “Not multiple times.”

Jon slowly turns around, looking at him blankly, “Yes, we have. Don’t lie. We’ve been having this conversation ever since I started training you.”

The boy rolls his eyes and groans, “Get off my back.”

“Lando, you’ve had a crush on my daughter ever since she greeted you the first day we met. Be honest here. How much longer are you going to wait?” Jon sits down on a machine nearby. His face has hardened and he looks on at Lando with a serious expression, one that both scares and pushes Lando to do what he’s wanted to do for years.

He mirrors Jon’s stance, relaxing into a seated position as he tries to sort his thoughts, “I didn’t think I ever would.”

Jon throws his hands in the air, “Well, that won’t ever do.”

A silence overcomes them, Lando wondering when he’s supposed to put his friendship in jeopardy, when Jon’s face lights up, “The lunch! You guys are going to lunch after this, right? Ask her then.”

Lando shakes his head, “Are you crazy?! That’s too soon! I need to have time to prepare!”

Jon leans on his knees, “Prepare what? Just ask her the question!”

Lando stutters out his thoughts, “I don’t know, I just want to give her something grand. Do you understand?”

Jon nods, “I do, but I don’t agree. Y/n doesn’t want that. She just wants you to take her out to dinner, Lando. You’re over complicating it.”

Lando takes a deep breath, attempts to clear his mind, and maybe he is over complicating it?

🏎️

His hands shake as he sits down across from Y/n at the table. She’s smiling at him, a sweet grin that has his heart fluttering, when her face falls softly, “Are you okay, Lan?”

He nods aggressively, “Yeah! Yeah! Totally cool!”

She cocks her head and lays her hand over his on the table, adding to the bursting in Lando’s stomach, “What’s going on? You look like you’re going to vomit.”

He shakes his head, a beating finding its home in his brain and he blurts, “Will you go out with me?”

She stares at him for a moment. A moment, a split second, where Lando thinks he’s lost it all, but then she breaks out into the biggest smile he’d ever seen grace her face and begins laughing, “Really? Yes, Lan!”

Air fills his lungs once more and he moves his hand to clutch hers, “Oh, thank God.”

He falls into lovesick giggles with her and the two struggle to get through ordering their food with the way they stare into each other’s eyes.

When their food comes, Y/n looks at him, “Couldn’t this be our date?”

He bites his lip in deep thought before nodding in agreement, “Yeah, actually, that makes a lot of sense.”

She ducks her head, getting closer to Lando and whispers, “Can I tell you something?”

He moves his head just as close, “Always.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that ever since I introduced myself to you.” She smiles, her hand finding his once more and squeezing lightly.

“Can I tell you something?” He says all the same.

She nods and he confides, “Jon’s been nagging at me for years to ask you out. He pushed me over the edge today.”

Y/n rears back, “Jon?! My father?! A matchmaker?!”

Lando nods in astonishment, “I know! Especially with his daughter?! Scandalous!”

Y/n shakes her head as she chuckles before looking back up at Lando and saying, “I’m glad he did.”

Lando smiles at her, “Me too.”

They stare at each other for a moment more, the two growing slightly shy under the new view of their relationship and turning away. His deep green eyes are addicting to Y/n and, by the way he’d pined over her for years, she believes she’s just as addicting to him.

A blush rises to her cheeks.

[augustjustice]

you wanna feel how it feels? (let's exchange the experience), 1/?

AO3 Link

Summary: After the Spring Break from hell, Eddie and Steve become fast friends, with a possible hint towards something more…except they're never quite sure what the other one is actually thinking. But maybe, just maybe, walking a mile in each other's shoes can lend them some much needed insight.

Notes: The long awaited first chapter of bodyswap fic is finally, finally here! This chapter is primarily just set up for the shenanigans yet to come.

I went ahead and added a taglist below for some of the folks who have been following along with the progress of this one. Apologies if I missed anyone, and if you'd like to be added to or removed from the list, please just let me know!

It was a typical Saturday night in late April–at least, typical post-the radical turn of events that had started with Eddie’s own personal nightmare during the Spring Break from hell, that series of dominoes tipping over and taking his life up to where it was now. And where he found himself was at Hawkins’ very own local Dairy Queen with Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, and a rabid pack of six hungry teenagers and one formidable preteen who could rule them all with an iron fist if she wanted, following up yet another successful session of Hellfire with some celebratory ice cream. 

Being able to hold a meeting of the Hellfire Club at all was cause for celebration in Eddie’s book, especially since the school would no longer allow them to host events on school grounds, despite the fact that all the charges against Eddie that had started the witch hunt in the first place had been dropped. Hawkins wasn’t exactly a forgive-and-forget kind of town, something Eddie had always known and been even more acutely aware of given the even more frequent, vitriolic stares that had been following him around since March. 

Still, he was soldiering on for now, at least until graduation–thanks in no small part to the apocalypse stopping crew currently clamoring over each other at the front counter. Despite the school’s best efforts, the club venue had been relocated to the Munsons’ newly minted trailer, courtesy of the government suits. And with the revival of their D&D campaign came the start of this new tradition–begun by none other than Steve himself, who had pulled up to Forest Hills to pick up the kiddos that first night, stuck his floppy-haired head out of his BMW like an overgrown puppy, and offered to meet everyone at the local DQ, his treat. The Corroded Coffin boys had begged off coming that first time–and the week after that, and the week after that–but, still. Standing under the hazy fast food fluorescent lights and with the promise of a chocolate malt ahead, life–for the moment, at least–was as good as Eddie could ask for, all things considered. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” With three quick snaps of his fingers, Steve tried to corral the kids into some semblance of order, one hand already settled in its customary position on his hip. “One at a time, you guys. Try to cut, ah…”

“Brandi,” the brunette behind the counter supplied helpfully when she saw Steve squinting at her name tag, face blooming into a bright grin. 

Eddie was pretty sure he recognized her from his second senior year math class, and there was a vague memory of seeing someone who sort of looked like her in the cafeteria tickling at the back of his mind, sitting a few tables from the jock zone amongst the lucky hopefuls looking to catch the attention of a baseball or basketball playing potential boyfriend. If so, that definitely explained the big moon eyes she was currently shooting Steve’s way. 

But Steve only returned her smile with a harried one of his own, his attention still firmly focused on the demands of his many babysitting charges. Eddie tried to tamp down the sick twist of satisfaction he felt when Brandi deflated slightly. 

“Right. Try to cut Brandi here some slack, alright? Believe me, slinging ice cream is plenty of work without having a bunch of little menaces shouting in your ear.”

As the group finally managed to file themselves into something that resembled a line–with plenty of jostling and grumbling along the way–Erica gave Steve’s polo a sharp tug and then jabbed two fingers in his direction.

“Free ice cream. For life,” she emphasized, the same way she did every week, like Steve needed the reminder. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved a dismissive hand in her direction even as he pulled out his wallet, same as he did week in and week out, putting on a show like he didn’t already know he’d be footing the bill for most of the munchkins’ orders. 

Robin had explained the situation to Eddie when he’d asked after their first DQ outing, with the same airy tone they all often used to describe the truly mind-boggling shit they had been through over the last few years. 

“Oh! It’s a leftover debt, from when we infiltrated the secret Russian base under Starcourt. Free ice cream was Erica’s price for getting involved. Never underestimate her ability to drive a hard bargain.”

Eddie had nodded, trying not to let how gobsmacked he felt about the entire story show. “Yeah, I, uh…wasn’t planning to. Lady Applejack is a force to be reckoned with.”

“You have no idea,” Robin had agreed, looking almost strangely…proud about the fact. 

That evening, when Eddie sidled up to join them, leaving Robin in position to guard the three booths sequestered off towards the back they had claimed as their own, he caught the tail end of the sheepies excitedly recounting tonight’s session for Steve. 

“And D20 is…good, right?” Steve asked, still watching the register as Brandi passed a vanilla cone with a hefty serving of whipped cream and sprinkles off to El. 

“Yes, Steve, it’s only the best roll you can possibly make in the entire game.” 

The no duh tone of Dustin’s voice was enough to have Steve raising an eyebrow at him, completely unimpressed. 

“Like sinking the winning shot after the final buzzer at the championship game kinda good,” Lucas explained, much more helpfully, his grin wide.

“Oh,” Steve nodded, and Eddie couldn't help but get distracted by the way his lips, pink and shining with a hint of chapstick, parted perfectly in understanding.

Eddie seized the opportunity to catch Steve off guard, hooking an arm around his shoulders and tugging him into his side. Delight bubbled in his chest at the way the gesture made Steve let out a loud, startled laugh.

“Should've figured that's all it'd take to rope you into playing sometime, Harrington,” Eddie shook his head solemnly. “Sports metaphors.”

“Always with the sports metaphors,” Dustin echoed. 

Steve reached out and swatted the brim of his cap, the force of it just enough to send it slightly askew and trigger a string of cursing from Dustin.

“Hey, I never agreed to that,” he argued, ducking out from under Eddie’s arm in one seamless motion. Jock reflexes, Eddie had decided, were both a blessing and a curse. 

He had learned that lesson firsthand in the past few weeks, as Eddie had grown more and more comfortable indulging in a little light rough housing with Steve, despite the fact that he knew there was no way in hell he had any better shot than their gangly freshmen did at not getting his ass handed to him. Eddie was stronger than he looked, sure, but he wasn’t exactly former basketball captain level athletic, not by a long shot. 

But was it really losing when he got to be pressed up against the firm planes of Steve’s chest, wrapped up in his strong arms–even if it was in a death lock grip–or occasionally pinned to Eddie’s own bedroom floor by him? Eddie definitely didn’t think so, and part of him was also just happy his recovery was going well enough he could scuffle, again. On his good days, at least. Doing it with his hot friend–and crush–was just an added bonus. 

“You know, it’s not my fault Lucas knows how to explain shit to me. I’ll stop talking in basketball when one of you two nerds actually manages to tell me what Mordor is.”

Dustin let out a huff. “If you just read the books–”

Steve cupped a hand around his ear, leaning down towards Dustin and hamming it up for all he was worth. “Huh? What was that? Cuz it didn’t sound like much of an explanation to me, Henderson.”

Eddie tugged a strand of hair across his mouth, trying to hide his grin. “Harrington, trust me when I say–you do not want to open that can of worms. Do you have any idea how long I can go on for once I get started? Hours, man. Days, probably.”

“Can’t be any worse than that time Robin tried to explain, uh…shit, what was it called? German New Wave? Or, no, maybe that was French Expressionism. I don’t know, the point is, it can’t be more boring than that was.”

“It's French New Wave!” Robin called from the back despite the distance, freakily intune with Steve as always. “Or German Expressionism. And sounds like you're due another lesson, Stevie-Evie. Don't worry, I've got a tried and true method to guarantee it all sticks this time.”

Steve groaned, dragging a hand over his face and into his hair–but his apparent grief at the thought of another Buckley-led film history lesson was quickly diverted when he realized it was his turn. 

From there, placing the rest of their orders passed by with little fanfare–apart from the brief, minor hiccup that came when Steve tried to pay for Eddie’s treat on top of everybody else’s. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eddie waved a finger at him, just barely managing to step around Steve and hand his fistful of dollars over to Brandi. “Your money’s no good here, my liege.”

The title was enough to produce a patent Harrington scowl, all drawn eyebrows and pouted lips. 

When he opened his mouth to protest, Eddie cut him off again. “Seriously, Steve, I’ve got it. One shake isn’t gonna break the bank, you know?” 

“I know that,” Steve huffed. “I just–would it seriously kill you to let me treat you once in a while?”

Steve had done more than enough, and Eddie thought he damn well knew that. Between literally saving Eddie’s life when he’d been about to bleed out in the Upside Down and then sticking around through all of his recovery in the weeks after, the amount he had done was approaching near superheroic levels. 

“You know you don’t have to hover, right, Harrington?” Eddie had asked him one day towards the end of his stay in the hospital, gnawing anxiously at his bottom lip, as he watched Steve look up from the Sports Illustrated sprawled across his lap.

The truth was he hadn’t wanted to say anything, too afraid bringing it up would lead to Steve doing just as he was suggesting…finally leaving. But the anxiety humming in his ears that Steve was just here out of pity had finally become worse, forced the words from his mouth. 

“You saved Dustin, man,” Steve had replied, expression earnest, “and helped distract the bats from me and Nance and Robin, too. I’m not going anywhere. So, you know…get used to it.”

He had punctuated the last statement by giving Eddie a light, friendly slap on his knee, and Eddie had to bite back the beaming, relieved grin that threatened to split his face. 

Steve had stayed pretty much a permanent fixture in Eddie’s day-to-day life after that, proving time and again he was serious about being in it for the long haul. Even through all the embarrassing shit, like Eddie hobbling around on his cane like a baby deer on shaky newborn legs, or needing somebody to help him wash his hair. Not exactly the ideal position to be in with a hopeless high school crush that had come burning back to life with a vengeance, but Steve would hear none of it when Eddie tried to insist he didn’t need to go out of his way like this. 

“What, you want Henderson in here instead?” Steve had asked with a snort. “You gotta be kidding, Munson. Like I said, better get used to being stuck with me.”

“Happy to be stuck together with you anytime, big boy,” Eddie had flirted, the shameless bravado in place to cover up the very real fluttering of his heart.  

In other words…Eddie had already accrued more life debts to Steve Harrington than he could ever hope to repay. And while Steve might have insisted he was more than happy with nursemaid duty, Eddie really wasn’t looking to turn himself into a charity case. Not if he could help it.

So Eddie let his grin grow, obnoxious and wide enough to show off all his teeth.

“It might,” he quipped. “And how would you feel, Harrington, knowing that this was the thing that finally managed to do me in? I’m just trying to spare you the guilt, man, I know what a complex you’d get.”

“Whatever, Eds,” Steve scoffed, steering him towards the designated babysitter’s club booth with a nudge of his elbow, hands full of his and Robin’s matching strawberry sundaes. 

Steve took his customary spot on Robin’s side of the booth, the pair of them, as always, practically glued at the hip. Their friendship, Eddie had learned, was a boundary free zone, one that frequently involved holding hands, devolving into childish slap fights with little warning, and falling asleep sprawled on top of each other while watching bad daytime soaps at the Harrington house. Only their vehement denial and the goo-goo eyes Eddie caught Robin making at the red-haired chick–Vickie, he now knew–from band convinced him Dustin’s loud, frequent, and insistent claims that they were dating were total bullshit. 

As he was just about to slide into his own place across from them, a commotion at the table behind them called for Eddie’s attention. 

“Eddie, El wants to hear you do the roar again!” Mike requested. 

Eddie tilted his head to one side, stroking his chin, as though trying to recall what exactly Mike was speaking of. Biting his lip to keep from smiling, he gave Mike a shrug. 

“No clue what you’re talking about, Little Wheel.”

A chorus of cries rang out from both tables the party had overtaken, shrieks of “Eddie!” and “C’mon, man!” reverberating again and again in his ears. 

Spinning on his heel as though he was set to ignore them, Eddie answered Steve and Robin’s expectant expressions with a quick, subtle wink.

When he leapt up from the floor and into a crouch on the booth seating, Eddie felt a sharp tug at his sides, his scar tissue very eagerly making itself known. Gritting his teeth, he refused to let the hot flash of pain show on his face as he loomed over Will and El, hands curving into claws as he reached towards their table.

“Kas the Bloody-Handed demands vengeance!” he bellowed, letting his voice drop into a deep, growling register. 

His performance was met with what might as well have been a standing ovation, in his book–a series of delighted shouts from the boys, eerily similar head shakes from Max and Erica while they both visibly fought back their smiles, and El letting out a peel of giggles as she hid her face in her brother’s side. 

When Hellfire had started back up again, Eddie had considered starting over from scratch, maybe even trying this deep into the game to veer their campaign in a different direction. He didn’t want something that they all loved to become somehow…tainted, by reminders of everything that had happened. 

“Nah, man, just leave it like it is,” Steve had suggested, one afternoon when Eddie’s fretting had finally bubbled over to the point he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “It's good for their…trauma processing? Or something. I don’t know, you’d have to ask Owens about it. The point is, they wouldn’t want you to change it. Not unless you want to.”

In the end, Eddie had heeded Steve’s advice, figuring he knew more about the way those little hellions ticked better than probably anybody else, at this point. 

Moments like these made him glad he did, proof positive his instincts had been spot on. 

Eddie dropped, satisfied, down into the booth, his foot knocking straight into the side of Steve’s under the table. A little spark of pleasure shot through him when Steve simply bumped his Nike sneaker against Eddie’s Reebok in answer and then left it there, pressed close together.

“No wonder you did drama,” Steve observed, twisting a bite around in his mouth as he sucked up the bright red streak of strawberry syrup. “You’re a total natural, man. Kinda, like…hypnotic.”

Eddie tried not to make it too obvious, how closely he was following the way Steve licked up every last morsel.  

“Yeah, until he dropped out like a quitter.”

“What can I say, Buckley? Organized–well, anything really–just ain’t for me.”

“Says the guy who literally runs an afterschool club,” she pointed the end of her plastic spoon at him in accusation. “Sounds to me like you’re full of it, Eddie.”

“She’s got you there, man,” Steve agreed with a shrug, a drop from his sundae dribbling onto the table as he swirled it around yet again. 

“Oh, napkins!” 

Slapping a palm against her forehead, Robin clambered over Steve and out of the booth, not so much as hesitating to give him a chance to stand up. 

“You know, if you wanna see more where that came from–my flare for theatrics, that is–you could always, I don’t know. Stick around when you drop off the kiddos next week?” As Eddie posed the question, he wondered if the lilt in his voice sounded too hopeful. “I won’t even make you play. You have my word as a dungeon master and a gentleman.”

“Yeah, uh…fat chance of that happening,” Steve murmured, voice low, almost like he didn’t want Eddie to actually hear him, “your friends fucking hate me, dude.”

“They don't hate you,” Eddie protested automatically, feeling the need to defend them even as his own heart sank in his chest, “they're just…a little skittish, after everything that went down with Jason. You–you get that, right?”

“Sure,” Steve shrugged, looking down as he stirred his spoon through his steadily melting soft serve. When he glanced up at Eddie again, a tenseness crept in around the edges of his smile that Eddie desperately wished he could help wipe away. “I get it.”

Robin returned to the table before either of them got a chance to say anything else, sliding over Steve’s lap with enough clumsy limbed flailing it prompted a, Sheesh, Rob. Watch the elbows, will you? out of Steve. 

Seeing an opening, Eddie quickly changed the subject. 

“So, speaking of the ins-and-outs of living in the institution that is our organized society–how is Family Video treating my two favorite, upstanding, and gainfully employed Hawkins citizens?”

Robin snorted. “It’s minimum wage, Eddie. How good could it possibly be?”

“Well, I mean–you could trade places with me if you wanted. Be gainfully unemployed with a side hustle that went up in smoke since that whole–you know, accused of being a ritual Satanic murderer thing put the local law enforcement on your tail.”

Both Steve’s eyebrows shot up at that. “The cop’s still giving you trouble?”

“Not in so many words, but, uh–let’s just say they’ve made it pretty clear I’m not exactly their favorite person, right now. So, yeah. Officer Callahan must have circled the trailer park like–three different times, last night.”

“But…you were exonerated,” Robin protested, the force of her distress clear from the way she slapped a palm down flat on top of the table. “That–that’s a total misappropriation of police funds, not to mention harassment of a private citizen.”

“You ever think that maybe they’re just keeping an eye on the place?” Steve suggested hopefully, “You know…after everything that happened.” 

“Your adorably positive outlook has been noted, Stevie. Noted, but ultimately dismissed.”

“Want me to talk to Hop for you? Get him to tell them to stand down?” 

“Nah, man,” Eddie gave a forceful shake of his head, hair whipping around him in a messy cloud, “I can handle it. I’ve got plenty of experience, evading the Hawkins Police force.”

Rubbing a finger over his sideburn, Steve tilted his head from side-to-side in consideration, before he casually added, “Guess we all do, now.”

“A band of fearsome outlaws, that’s us,” Robin agreed, her nose crinkling as she laughed, loud and bright. 

“More like Robin Hood and his merry men.” At Robin’s pointed glance, Eddie was quick to amend, “…And women, of course.” 

The conversation flowed along at a rapid fire pace from there, the three of them at first trying to assign different characters from the story to all the members of the party before devolving fast into a debate about which cinematic performance of the lead character was the best–and sexiest, though Eddie didn’t divulge that was most of the metric he was using for his answers–and thus which adaptation came out on top. Robin fell into the same camp as him–Errol Flynn all the way–while Steve was a firm defender of the Disney version because, That little fox guy is cute and charismatic, guys, you can’t even argue with me on this one. 

When he had slurped up the last remnants of his malt, Eddie stretched his arms above his head, leaned back against the booth’s cracking red vinyl, and sighed. 

“Fancy a smoke break?” he asked, pulling the pack from his pocket and waving it tantalizingly for Steve to see.

Steve laughed with a roll of his eyes.

“You know I quit, dude.” 

“And so should you,” Robin added pointedly, an argument she’d made countless times since Eddie got out of the hospital, pretty much every single time she caught him lighting up. 

“Cut me some slack, Buckley,” Eddie said, same as he always did. “I’ve been through a traumatic experience. Ciggies are good for the stress, since I can’t exactly smoke weed outside this fine, family friendly establishment.”

“Uh-huh,” Robin replied, deadpan and unconvinced as ever, “we’ve all got our fair share of U.D. related trauma, Eddie. That’s not an excuse to suck on those…little sticks made out of cancer.”  

“Alright, well. Fancy a stand-outside-with-me-and-bullshit break, then?” Eddie directed at Steve. 

Robin raised an eyebrow at him, and Eddie couldn’t quite read the expression on her face. It seemed…knowing in a way he was too afraid to totally unpack. 

She saved him the trouble of having to do so by letting out a put upon sigh, dramatic enough for him or Steve either one when they got going, and a true reflection of the fact she had stuck it out through almost four years of high school theater. 

“Stealing away my own best friend to go join your boys’ club, Eddie? Really? And right in front of me, too. You know, this is just like second grade, when Trevor Milligan convinced all the boys in our class girls had cooties, and Bobby B. wouldn’t race me on the monkey bars anymore.” 

Laying a hand over his heart, Eddie had to fight down the grin that threatened to split across his face. “I solemnly vow to bring him back all in one piece, Buck. I know who's top dog around here.”

The nod she gave him was swift and authoritative. “And don’t you forget it.” 

With a wink and a click of his tongue, he mock saluted her. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She turned to Steve, giving his bicep several sharp pokes. “But just because I'm the girl doesn't mean I deserve to get saddled with child-rearing responsibilities, you know!”

“We're not children,” Red interjected with a dry sort of exasperation from the next booth over.

Her point was immediately undermined by Lucas, using the makeshift catapult he'd made from his spoon to fling a maraschino cherry at Dustin. The other boy let out an indignant squawk when it missed his mouth entirely and got caught right in his curly hair.

Even from behind her glasses, it was pretty obvious what sort of look Max was giving her boyfriend.

“Correction…I'm not a child.”

“Sorry.” Lucas's grin was sheepish.

“Rob,” Steve said flatly, ignoring the kids’ antics to instead pin her with his own look, like she was being ridiculous. 

Which was…pretty fair, this time, in Eddie's opinion. He wasn't sure he'd ever met anyone with quite the same intense level of tired dad–mom–whatever energy as Steve had, and all before he'd even hit his early twenties. When it came to babysitting duties, he definitely wasn't a slacker.

“I'm just saying, as a feminist, I thought you should know,” Robin waved her spoon at them, managing to pull the move off without so much as a drip of her ice cream plopping onto the table.

“We agreed that you'd be the fun uncle,” Steve argued, the lack of protest from Robin proving that was, in fact, a conversation they'd already had, “so then be the fun uncle while Mom and Dad step outside.”

“Mom and Dad?” Robin echoed, eyebrow raising and face scrunching in transparent disbelief–and Eddie had to admit, he was caught on the exact same thing.

Steve only waved a hand at her, rolling his eyes. 

“You know what I mean. Look, it’s only gonna be like fifteen minutes, tops. If you do it I’ll–” Steve spun his hand around in several aimless, pinwheel like motions before finally snapping his fingers in revelation, “I’ll let you put on whatever movie you want at work on Monday!”

Robin stuck her hand out to him. “Make it ten, and you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

Tapping a finger on his top lip, Steve pursed his mouth in thought for a moment. 

“...Twelve,” he bartered. “And you can make it a black and white one. With subtitles.”

Robin’s face lit up, teeth glimmering with the sheer force of her glee.

“Look at that. You really do know the way to a girl’s heart, Steve.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbled, giving her hand one firm, business-like shake. 

Eddie was already up, having impatiently shimmied several paces away from the booth, by the time Steve stood and fell into step beside him.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Eddie couldn’t resist shouting over his shoulder, “Make sure they eat all their vegetables!”

Steve met Eddie’s shit-eating grin with one of his own before adding, “And no scary movies before bedtime!”

Seven individual hands all popped up, shooting them the bird as one.

By the time they stepped out onto the sidewalk, they were both stumbling into each other’s sides with laughter. 

—

Once they were outside and had managed to pull themselves together, Eddie stuck one of the smokes in his mouth and went straight for his lighter, his craving growing palpable. But, as that meant he had to rummage around the tangle of other things jammed inside his pocket, just laying in wait to come spilling out–like a nearly empty pack of Big Red gum, a crumpled receipt, and the spare die Eddie kept on his person in case of D&D-related emergencies–he fumbled it, the BIC hitting the ground with a sad thump.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he complained out of reflex, both from general annoyance and just a tinge of embarrassment, feeling the burn of it with his klutziness deciding to come out around Steve in full force. 

Nat 1 on charisma, Munson. Critical failure.

Steve waved a dismissive hand at him. “I got it, man, I got it.”

And before Eddie could protest, he was stooping down beside him to pick the lighter up off the asphalt of the Dairy Queen parking lot, giving it a toss into his hand like the total show off he was.

Eddie was about to make a crack about it, something along the lines of You just gotta demonstrate your athletic prowess in front of us lesser mortals, doncha, Harrington?–except, well. He didn’t get the chance. 

Because, one second, Steve was popping up and waving the lighter cockily at him, grin bright on his face, and, the next…

The next, and totally without warning, he was leaning in close, cupping his hand to light the cigarette dangling from Eddie’s lips for him. 

Eddie inhaled on instinct, taking a long drag as the cherry glowed to life, a stark red in the fading light of dusk. As for the sudden rush that went to his head–he had little doubt that it was just from the hit of nicotine alone.

And–maybe it was a trick of the low light. But for a long, breathless moment, Steve’s eyes seemed to linger on Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s heartbeat kicked up in answer, rabbiting wildly in his throat. The air between them grew thick, heavy-laden with tension that seemed to almost crackle like electricity. 

Eddie took the cigarette from his lips slowly, dropping his hand to let it hang at his side. And, still, Steve’s gaze never wavered, eye line still leveled directly at his mouth. If one of them were to just finally cave into the building pressure, sway forward and close that distance between them, maybe they could…

But, then, from one blink to the next, the heated expression on Steve’s face cleared, replaced by a guileless, easy smile. 

…Eddie tried to tamp down on the flare of disappointment he felt at the sight of it.  

“You know, man–Robin’s totally right about those things.” 

Steve dragged a finger across his throat, pretending to choke as he briefly mimed his own dramatic death scene. The Eddie of a year ago wouldn’t have believed it–but the Eddie of now knew better, had been exposed to Steve’s silly antics on more than one occasion. He could be just as big a goofball as Dustin, as any of the kids, as Eddie himself when he wanted to be. 

“You really should cut back.”

It was all so…normal. Casual. A light chiding about bad habits in an airy tone, like…

Like everything before hadn’t happened at all. 

Eddie stared at Steve for a long moment, trying to read the expression in his wide, hazel eyes. But…they were totally and completely inscrutable to him.

And, look. Eddie was queerer than a three dollar bill–had been since gawky adolescence hit him like a freight train, all too-long limbs and sudden, embarrassingly consistent morning wood. Dudes or chicks, it didn’t matter. Like Bowie, Eddie was an equal opportunist…for all the good it had ever done him, able to count the times he’d made a pass and hadn’t struck out on one hand. Being Hawkins local freak would do that to a guy, and that was before the murder charges and cult-leader accusations. 

But the thought that Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington was anything other than stalwartly heterosexual in the most apple-pie, white-picket-fence, boy-next-store way imaginable? The idea should have been laughable. And a year ago, Eddie would have done just that, laughed it off with a no way, man rolling easily off his tongue.

But now…now he wasn’t so sure. 

Because there was something electric about the growing familiarity that had popped up between him and Steve the closer they’d gotten since their fateful spring break excursion to the Upside Down. He felt it, when Steve slung his arm over the back of the couch when Eddie sat next to him during movie night, or laid a hand in the small of Eddie’s back, easy as anything, to keep him steady when the kids all jostled ahead of them to get through the door at the arcade. 

Maybe it was all just some vestige from Steve’s high school glory days, leftover jock rituals Eddie knew nothing about. Maybe it was total wishful thinking on Eddie’s part, as his crush steadily grew into something gargantuan. Shit, that’s what he tried to tell himself most of the time, if only for his own sanity–but he was still reluctant to say it was all in his head. Especially when moments like this kept cropping up more and more. 

…Eddie was too afraid to push it, though. Hardly over a month old, technically–even though some days it felt like a lifetime–the friendship between them was new. Not delicate, not hardly, but still not something Eddie was looking to scare off when it’d only just gotten started. 

So as the uncertainty settled over him, Eddie finally ducked his head for an instant, gnawing at his bottom lip. Then he reached over and gave Steve’s temple a teasing tap. 

“Sometimes, I just wonder what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours, Stevie.”

The flirtation was thick, sure, but it was easy enough to play it off the same way he always did–just some harmless teasing between two guys, nothing serious. Plus, Eddie figured Steve was more than used to his antics by now. Sometimes, his over-the-top personality really did pay off. 

But behind those words was the truth of Eddie’s thoughts, swirling over and over again. 

Fuck. If only I could get inside his head. Then, maybe I’d be able to figure out what the hell he’s thinking. 

For a split second, he could have sworn Steve’s shoulders stiffened, posture going unexpectedly rigid. But then Steve laughed, brushing the swoop of his hair back, fingers dancing tantalizingly close to Eddie’s own, and Eddie was left to wonder if it was just more of his mind playing tricks on him. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I’m like an open book. Ask anybody around and they’ll tell you–you don’t have to put yourself out to get an answer. It’s pretty much all, like…hair care tips and sports stats, 24/7 up here.” 

“Come on, Steve,” Eddie scoffed, “I don’t believe that shit for even a second.” 

Steve only shook his head, smile still firmly in place. 

“Not sure what to tell you, dude. It’s true. Besides,” the word came out lower, almost as if Steve was talking to himself, “between the two of us, pretty sure you’re more the man of mystery than I am, dude.” 

At that, Eddie let out a startled bark of laughter. 

“Me?! You cannot be serious with that one, Harrington, no way in hell. Have you seen me? If anybody’s the open book here, it’s me. I’m practically a screaming headline on the late night news. Every single thought and feeling I’ve ever had automatically comes flying,” Eddie pressed his hand against his lips and made a sound like an explosion, splaying his fingers out, “straight out of my mouth. Always has. Just ask my old man, he used to bitch about it all the time. ‘Quit that blubbering and toughen up, Eddie, or life will steamroll right over you.’”

Steve’s lips pursed, the same knowing but insulted look he always wore when the infamous Munson patriarch came up in conversation. 

“Your dad sounds like a real jackass, Eds.” 

Eddie could only hum his agreement. 

Everybody in Hawkins knew Al Munson, low down no-account that he was. His reputation preceded him–and Eddie, more often than not. But Steve had more of the inside scoop than most, Eddie having opened up to both him and Robin about his home life. 

Still, he wondered at the vehemence with which Steve defended him, any time the mention of his absentee patriarch came up. By contrast, Eddie didn’t know jackshit about the Harringtons apart from the fact that they were hotshots around town. Steve never mentioned them, not really, and Eddie had never run into them the times he’d been over to Steve’s place. Which was…pretty weird in and of itself, wasn’t it?

Yet another mysterious piece of the puzzle that was Steve Harrington. 

“I don’t know, man,” Steve shrugged, voice gone quiet again, tugging Eddie out of his reverie. “I kinda think your book might be in Hobbit, or whatever it’s called from those books you guys love so much, because I don’t really see you that way at all.” 

Reaching out, he suddenly caught a strand of Eddie’s hair between two fingers. Eddie sucked in a sharp breath at the gesture, face going hot. 

“Besides, haven’t you ever heard of tall, dark, and mysterious? If the hair fits.” 

Steve gave the curl a light tug before dropping it. Eddie immediately snatched it back up, tugging it like a curtain across his mouth, desperate to hide the faint color on his cheeks. 

“Guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one, dude.” 

Steve let out what sounded like an amused huff. “Looks like it.”

When Steve looked down at his watch, Eddie realized, in the time they’d been talking, that he’d smoked his cigarette down to a nub.

“We should probably head back inside,” Steve gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, “before all of Lucas’s toppings somehow end up in Dustin’s hair, and Robin decides to ground them all until they’re twenty-five.”

As he stubbed out the bud with his shoe, Eddie fiddled with his rings, trying to subtly shake off some of the tension that had seemed to build up in the air around their conversation. When he met Steve’s eyes again, he was all cheery smiles, hoping he didn’t look too manic as his cheeks stretched with the force of it.

“Well, now, we couldn’t have that,” Eddie agreed, even as he added, “–Thought she said she wasn’t parenting material, though? Pretty sure fun uncles don’t have to ground people.”

His own uncle was more like a father than anything else, and still he’d never really bothered to try grounding Eddie–his disappointed stare always did more to deter Eddie away from his own stupidity than anything else ever had.

“Sure, she says that, until somebody gets chocolate ice cream on her new favorite button down. Then it’s goddamn,” Steve let out one long, forlorn beep followed by two shorter ones–an unmistakable imitation of Pac-Man’s game over death knell, and proof of just how much time he spent at the arcade with the kids, “over for everybody involved, including me somehow.”

“I mean, you did call us Mom and Dad, man. Guess that makes us responsible whenever the kiddos misbehave.”

Steve sighed, long and loud and clearly just a little exaggerated for Eddie’s benefit, if the way Steve widened his eyes in mock fear was anything to go by. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Those little shits can stir up all kinds of trouble in ten minutes flat. No telling what the damage is.”

So, with one last jocular pat to Eddie’s back, he began herding him back inside the shop.  

And when Eddie’s own traitorous heart gave a twist at such a small, meaningless gesture? All he could do was send a silent curse up to the sky, and do his best to ignore it. 

—

That night, Eddie fell through a tangle of twisting, nonsensical dreams.

At first, he was in the stolen RV, relieving a memory. The Upside Down crew–Nancy, Robin, Steve, Dustin–stood all around him, preparing for that fateful last trip to try and stop Vecna. After reciting their orders, his hand clapped down on Dustin’s head in reassurance, a last show of camaraderie before they headed off into battle.

But then, without warning, the ground seemed to shift right beneath his feet. 

Coming out of the haze, he found himself staring at a refrigerator, standing in a kitchen he didn’t immediately recognize. On autopilot, with a feeling like his body was being tugged by invisible strings he couldn’t quite control, his hand swung down again, the motion identical as he gave Dustin a fond scuff over his cap. Except…Dustin was shorter, this time, and undeniably younger. And Eddie, well–the Members Only jacket hanging over his shoulders was definitely not his own, though he thought he had spotted one identical to it hanging in the back of Steve’s closet.  

He barely had time to register those weird little details before the world was going topsy turvy yet again. 

Eddie was on his back, a swirl of bats circling overhead like a storm against the violent red splash of Upside Down sky. As his sides screamed in agony, wooziness clenched down on his mind with a vice grip, not at all helped by the fact that the scene around him kept changing. 

One second, he was shirtless, dampness and grime clinging to his chest hair, Nancy Wheeler’s mouth a grim line as she stared down at him with an oar in hand. Then he blinked, and Dustin’s face swam into view above him, fuzzy as Eddie’s own vision blurred around the edges. 

Blink. Wheeler and Buckley, fighting off demobats like two warrior women worthy of only the grandest of campaigns. 

Blink. Dustin, screaming his name so harshly, his throat had to be raw from it. 

Blink. The outline of Eddie himself, shouting up at the sky, demanding they give him all they’d got despite the fucking bone-deep terror he knew he’d been feeling. The out-of-body sensation that slammed into him, existing somehow both inside and outside the moment all at once, was so jarring Eddie’s stomach lurched, like he was going to be sick. 

Back and forth, again and again, like the world’s worst, most bizarre merry-go-round…until finally, Dustin solidified, Eddie’s own memory draping over him like a well-worn but ill-fitting shirt. He flinched a little as he felt dampness drip against his cheeks, and a long moment stretched on before Eddie fully realized that it wasn’t rain hitting him in the face, but instead the fat tears currently racing down the bridge of the other boy’s nose. 

He knew this moment well, viscerally, a long, hellish stretch that had revisited him night after night the past month–and one he’d do almost anything to forget. 

His final goodbyes exchanged, Eddie’s eyes slipped shut of their own accord. It wasn’t peaceful, exactly–some part of Eddie deep down still railed, pissed as hell at what was happening to him–but he was also so fucking tired, after days on the run. Worn out and fed up, and ready to just get some fucking rest.

So, when the blackness swallowed him, he couldn’t help but wonder if this time, it really would be for good.

–And then a faint, familiar voice rang out in the distance.  

“Dustin?!” Eddie heard Steve scream, like a tether pulling him back into his own body. “Eddie?! You gotta be fucking kidding me, where the hell are you guys?!”

The heavy thud of footfalls drew closer, and Eddie practically felt the ground shake as another body collapsed beside Dustin. 

The world flashed, spun again. Suddenly, Eddie was sliding across the rough terrain of the alternate world on his knees, the sound of Dustin’s soft cries making his heart ache…and his own lifeless body spread out on the ground in front of him. 

Large hands fisted in the front of Eddie’s vest, tugging at him urgently. 

“Munson! Munson!” Steve’s words spilled from Eddie’s mouth as his grip on the fabric tightened, giving him a hard shake. “Eddie, come on! I told you not to be a hero. Don’t even think about it, dude–you’re not dying on us now!”

Eddie remembered this, too. Steve’s steely, urgent tone, brooking no arguments, like he could actually will Eddie back to life if he wanted to. Except this time–this time Eddie actually felt the terror behind the words, the urgency making Steve’s voice tremble in his throat. Experienced, in real time, the relief hitting like a truck, flooding through his veins, when his own brown eyes slipped open. 

“Did-Didn’t realize you were my commanding officer, Harrington,” the Eddie on the ground murmured–more like croaked, the sentence breaking unpleasantly in the middle.

“You’re damn right I am,” Steve answered, jaw clenching, and Eddie could feel his muscle twitching with it, “if that’s what it takes to get you to stick around, man, consider me a five star general.”

He’s alive, he’s alive, the Steve in his head sang, again and again, thank fuck, he’s alive.

Because, there and then, he…was Steve. The twin emotions of Steve’s own swelling hope that Eddie might make it coupled with Eddie’s own real shock from what Steve was feeling at the time warred inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. 

Then, like the force of that emotion had thrown him, Eddie landed hard on his back again. Confusion hit him as he glanced down and realized that he was shirtless–Steve was entirely shirtless. Because this had been his memory, before, and now Eddie was back in it. 

The revelation had barely settled before agony quickly drowned out anything else, the demo-bats starting to gnaw at his bare sides. One of their tails wrapped tightly around Eddie’s throat, and his hands shot up, uselessly trying to pry it off. He could feel that darkness creeping in again, the familiar sensation of being knocked unconscious rising up to meet him. 

Fourth time’s a charm, I guess, the voice inside Eddie’s head was wry, and it still definitely wasn’t his own. You made a good run of it, Harrington, but looks like your luck finally ran out this time.

The resignation of it, the acceptance, was enough to shake Eddie to the bone. 

No-no-no, no! Some desperate, deeply buried part of him screamed out. You–You’re the goddamn hero, Stevie. You don’t get to give up.

When the oar slammed down near his head this time, Wheeler calling out a quick Hey, there with Robin and Eddie himself at her sides…Eddie had never been so happy to see someone in his entire fucking life, freaky out-of-body experience be damned. 

The vision, memory, whatever it was…it released Eddie, finally. 

And then Steve was there, standing before him, clad in nothing but sleep shorts and his gray Hawkins Phys Ed shirt, his hair mussed. Darkness surrounded them on all sides, too fuzzy and dim for Eddie to make anything out apart from the figure facing him. 

Steve’s lips moved, the shape of them making out what Eddie thought was his name. Dread dripped down his spine, however, as he realized that no sound–not so much as a peep–followed. 

“Stevie?” he answered, the panicked shrillness evident in his own voice even as he couldn’t hear Steve’s own. “I can’t–shit, man, I can’t hear you.”

Steve’s face drew down into a frown, forehead wrinkled, concern and frustration warring on his face. He tried to speak again, but still, Eddie couldn’t hear a thing. Hand flying upwards, Steve gestured to his own ear, finger tapping it once. 

Eddie shook his head. “Sorry, dude, I–I’ve got nothing.”

On instinct, he reached out a placating hand. Glancing down to see it extended towards him, Steve did the same. Eddie felt his chest clench a little, finding comfort in the thought that even in a moment like this, when they couldn’t hear what the other was saying, they still managed to broach some common ground. 

Their fingertips brushed. A spark ran through Eddie at the touch, seeming almost to infect their surroundings as red lighting suddenly flashed all around them.

Between one blink to the next, Steve disappeared. 

Before he had a chance to cry out, Eddie realized, horror steadily climbed up his throat, that the figure now staring back at him was…himself? 

And not a memory version this time, either. No, this was a living, breathing double. 

His doppelganger’s brow furrowed, head tilting to one side, a bit like a confused puppy.

It was like the sound had been turned on all at once, because when the other Eddie spoke, he could finally hear him.

“Eddie?” his mirror image asked, looking past Eddie, around him, anywhere but directly at him.

If he had ever made it to that shrink Owens recommended, he bet they would have had a field day unpacking whatever this was.

Hands Eddie hadn’t even realized had still been clasped parted, slipping away from each other.

And then, Eddie was sucked back into darkness, feeling adrift as any chance at seeing Steve, his doppelganger, anything and anyone vanished into the distance. He was lost, totally and utterly, and he felt it, every bit of it, the weight crushing in on him as the last dregs of the dream faded away.

—

The next morning, Eddie woke up in Steve Harrington’s bed.

Part 2

Taglist: @highkingpenny @tinytalkingtina @starryeyedjanai @sidekick-hero @thefreakandthehair @lingeringmirth @eriquin @bifuriouswaterbender @fuctacles

[marvel-ous-m]

Eddie Munson’s Guide for How to Adopt a Jock in Four Easy Steps (5/5)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

AO3 Link

A.N.: I’m actually kind of emotional posting this! It’s the first multi-chapter fic I’ve uploaded for ST and y’all have been so lovely this week. I hope you enjoy this 2,776 word ending (damn) to this fic that I’ve SO enjoyed writing and sharing. 

I want to give a very special shoutout to my best friend @lamoabss for being my beta for this chapter and also just being an all-around wonderful person. Please give them a follow, they’re so insanely talented and we’re planning to do some collabs over the summer! 

Okay, onto the last chapter!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first part of Step Three is easy enough- with all of Hellfire onboard, Eddie just needs to figure out the basics of Steve Harrington: likes, dislikes, allergies, school schedule, etc. All the things that high school students share with each other in the cafeteria over lunch or between class periods. So, Eddie makes like glue and sticks to Steve’s side. For the classes they share, Eddie moves to sit in the desk next to Steve- which is, sadly, pretty easy- no one is keen to sit next to the fallen king, probably out of some dumbass fear that they would catch whatever social pariah-ness that Steve had suddenly taken on. They trade notes during the classes that Steve zones out during- which, Eddie makes a mental note, are English and Math. (The other class they share together is Chemistry, and Steve can barely take his focus from whatever their science teacher is talking about to say ‘hi’ to Eddie when he comes into class five minutes late, which he does on a fairly regular basis. Eddie also files that information away for later). 

By some unexplainable miracle, for the classes that Eddie doesn’t share with Steve, some member of Hellfire can fill in that space. Jeff takes Spanish 2 with Steve, Gareth has woodshop, and Grant has art and P.E.. Eddie employs them to run reconnaissance as they work together to make sure that Steve never has to sit alone in a class, and they begin to compile information through their various efforts. 

Steve can draw pretty well, but he only uses pens to sketch. He loves art class and sits at the front to see the board better, so he probably needs glasses. He talked to the P.E. teacher last week and now all he does during class is sit in her office and file papers, I think she’s making him sit out for a few weeks because she thinks he has a concussion. Based on his behavior, he probably does. -Grant.

Steve hates woodshop. He sits in the back of the class and doesn’t pay attention, and if the professor catches him and makes him actually do work, he gets this look in his eye and panics a little. He does this thing with his right hand where he clenches it a couple times until he can breathe better. He won’t go near a hammer. I don’t really understand it. -Gareth. 

Steve sucks at Spanish. He said something to me the other day about the letters not making sense. With the way he squints at his paper and the way he writes… I’m going out on a limb here, but he might be dyslexic? -Jeff. 

Steve doesn’t pay attention in Math but he has an A, so he’s actually freakishly good with numbers. He doesn’t pay attention in English for the opposite reason, I think Jeff’s onto something. He loves Chemistry but he doesn’t have the best grade in that class. I think he pays attention because he wants to do a better job. He’s well rested on Monday and Friday morning, but Tuesday, Wednesday, and especially Thursday he looks like he’s about to fall over all day. I catch him nodding off in Math those days, and, maybe coincidentally, his shoes are really muddy on the mornings when he comes in tired. -Eddie. 

With the new information, the boys get to work. Gareth makes himself Steve’s woodshop partner, doing the majority of the building and letting Steve relax for the most part, having him only do whatever wood staining that needs to be done. Grant shares some of his sketches with Steve in class to try and make him more confident about his art skills, which works surprisingly well. Grant also brings up his dyscalculia seamlessly over lunch one day and answers whatever questions Steve has. Jeff gives Steve his Spanish notes and asks to study together on Thursday nights. Steve turns him down- apparently Thursday nights he actually babysits Dustin so that Dustin’s mom, Claudia, can go to a Bingo thing with her friends, but Steve offers up Fridays after class in the library, which becomes a new tradition for them. 

Eddie can’t offer much in the way of English notes (why read Shakespeare when there are hundreds of Sci-Fi and Fantasy books out in the world?) but he does make time to talk with Steve about English during lunch on Tuesdays. They go to the library instead of sitting in the cafeteria with the rest of Hellfire, and they work their way through whatever assigned reading their teacher gives them. Steve’s pretty tired, but not as tired as he is on Wednesdays or Thursdays, so it works, and they both find themselves actually understanding the subject matter for once. As for math- well, Eddie has Steve answer whatever questions he has rather than the other way around, but that seems to help Steve’s confidence about his math skills- which really are quite impressive. Eddie also finds himself as Steve’s lab partner for every Chem project. It’s a little bit chaotic- turns out that Steve understands Chemistry to a certain extent, but prefers to mess around more than actually learn something- which, yeah, dangerous, but also fun… very fun. (Eddie especially likes to play with the Bunsen burner- call him a pyromaniac- but his antics always pull a laugh from Steve, a bright sound that makes Eddie’s heart sing, so he keeps at it despite many, many reprimands from their Chem teacher). 

The winter months turn to Spring, and Steve begins to bloom at the same pace as the flowers and trees around town. He contributes to conversations at lunch, plans to hang out with the guys when he has spare time, attends their band practices and cheers them on- hell, by March he even agrees to play a character in Eddie’s newest campaign. Eddie makes him a Paladin, which he claims fits Steve the best out of everything he could think of. Steve loves the character and picks up on what it’s like to actually play the game rather than strategize pretty quickly- unsurprisingly, Steve loves it. 

The Hellfire boys seem to take Steve’s blooming personality in stride- Jeff goes over to Steve’s to bake chocolate chip cookies one-on-one, which they bring to the next campaign. He and Grant bond over art, swapping sketches and gifting each other art supplies. Every time Steve receives something, his eyes get this look- and every time that Eddie witnesses it, he’s reminded of why they brought Steve into their small-but-mighty crew, and is extremely grateful that Steve is acclimating so well. Steve and Gareth are fast friends, which takes all of them by surprise. Apparently, Steve gave Gareth some hairstyling tips, and that was that. 

Steve’s personality isn’t the only thing that’s changing come Spring. Eddie finds himself staring at Steve’s mouth much more frequently. In fact, he can count a number of times where he could swear that Steve was doing the same to him. They laugh at each other's jokes more frequently, share stolen moments by Steve’s locker in between classes where they speak in hushed voices about whatever comes to mind. It’s… nothing that Eddie’s ever experienced before. At the same time, Eddie can’t imagine life without these moments with Steve, and while Jeff’s cautionary words are still at the forefront of his mind, he can feel himself falling harder, and it’s slowly reaching a worrisome point-of-no-return.

Time flies, and in the blink of an eye, it’s June. Steve passes all of his classes with the help of Hellfire, Eddie fails English and P.E. again (which he unfortunately expected- another year in this hell doesn’t sound all that appealing, but he figures that he can at least hang out with the guys for another year, and with Jeff in Senior English maybe he’ll actually pass). The four of them attend Steve’s graduation, where they meet some of the middle schoolers that Steve had spoken so highly about over the last few months. They all sit together and cheer as loud as they can when Steve walks across the stage and gets his diploma, even earning a few hushed whispers from surrounding parents to sit down and be quiet. Steve’s parents were nowhere to be found, but when everyone caught up with Steve after the ceremony to congratulate him, it was clear that he didn’t mind- in that moment, he had everyone that he cared about surrounding him. 

Hellfire presented Steve with a club T-Shirt as a graduation gift, which he took with a wide smile on his face and that same look in his eye. Eddie took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back- Step Three: Get Steve Fully Integrated Into Hellfire, complete. (Yeah, he fell harder for Steve, but he kept that to himself and got Steve through the rest of the school year while also giving him a new group of friends- and, theoretically, Steve was none the wiser about Eddie’s feelings. All in all- not bad, Munson. Not bad.)  

The kids had to leave pretty quickly after congratulating Steve- something about getting Dustin packed for summer camp and Claudia having been the one to drive all of them to graduation- but not without Dustin and his friends making Eddie promise to let them into Hellfire when September came around, while simultaneously gawking about him letting someone like Steve into the group. (Their bright personalities and excitement about Hellfire helped Eddie feel a bit more optimistic about the year ahead- who knew, maybe ‘86 would be his year).

Once the crowd dispersed, the rest of the boys of Hellfire also going their separate ways to get a start on summer plans, Eddie invited Steve over to the trailer to share a joint and spend the night. Wayne was pulling a 24 hour shift, and Eddie figured Steve needed an opportunity to let loose before starting work at the new ice cream shop, a job Steve was dreading. (Although, Eddie was secretly pretty excited about Steve’s new job, given the embarrassing uniform that Steve had described). 

Steve took Eddie up on his offer, which is how they ended up splayed next to each other on Eddie’s bed, legs tangled together and giggling through the soft haze that came with working through some of Eddie’s stash. One thing led to another, and, at Steve’s quiet, embarrassed request, they tried out ‘shotgunning’, which turned into a very heated makeout session. 

The development was entirely unexpected, but, as was later revealed during a conversation at sunrise, mutually very welcomed. So maybe Step Three wasn’t entirely completed in accordance with Jeff’s warning, but whatever. This was good- actually, scratch that, this was perfect. Best-of-all-possible-scenarios, win-win situation. They started dating- keeping it secret, only sharing it with the other members of Hellfire, and then only because Jeff clocked it within three minutes of one of their summer D&D sessions starting. They were all very supportive (save for a warning glare from Jeff that Eddie was on the receiving end of), and for about a month, Steve was the happiest that Eddie had ever seen. And yeah, Eddie was the happiest he’d been in a long time, too. Sue him, Steve was a great boyfriend- and was fucking perfect in the bedroom. (12/10 stars, give the man an award, kinda perfect. And that sailor suit? Goddamn…)  Eddie didn’t know how he got so lucky, but he was going to do everything in his power to keep this gift from the universe in prime condition. 

June turned to July, and Eddie’s understanding of the world as he knew it completely changed come Independence Day. Eddie was woken up by a phone call in the middle of the night from Steve, who, sounding beyond exhausted, asked for a ride home for him and his coworker Robin. Eddie arrived at the scene and was shocked by the sheer magnitude of what he had unknowingly stumbled upon. There were at least five times as many emergency response vehicles than Hawkins had, the newly-constructed mall was actively burning to the ground, there was a huge crowd outside a long yellow barrier of police tape, and a few faces Eddie recognized beyond the police tape: specifically Steve’s middle schoolers, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, and-

There was Steve, holding a blanket around his shoulders, sitting in the back of an ambulance next to his coworker Robin, who Eddie knew from theater, band, and the handful of times he came in to visit Steve at work. Eddie ducked under the police tape without much fanfare and made his way over to the ambulance, pulling Steve into a hug the second he was within arms length. 

They left pretty soon after that, Steve quietly explaining that he had told Robin about their relationship after vomiting their brains out in the movie theater bathroom. Which- Eddie wasn’t really sure how to unpack all of that, but that wasn’t exactly important at the moment. He drove Steve and Robin to Steve’s house, and, at their request, Eddie laid in Steve’s parent’s California King bed with the two of them. After a few hours of all of them trying to sleep but coming up unsuccessful, Steve finally started speaking. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, and an explanation of the hidden dark side of Hawkins came spewing out.

It was dawn by the time Steve finished recounting everything, and Eddie believed him without question. He trusts Steve intrinsically, he knows Steve would never lie about something like this- something so life-altering and burdensome. Besides, Steve’s story matched events that Eddie could place: Will going ‘missing’, followed by Barbara Holland, then Will magically re-appearing around the same time that Steve had his falling out with Hagan and came back to school with a beat-up face from Jonathan Byers. Steve walking the tracks with Dustin as he’d explained all those months ago in November took on a new meaning- they were searching for a monster from an alternate dimension that Dustin had accidentally let loose. The clenching motion Steve made and his aversion to woodshop suddenly made sense, too. In the middle of recounting the events of early November 1984, Steve left his parents room and returned with a wooden bat filled with nails that fit perfectly in Steve’s hand- he explained with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks that it kept him grounded, that he couldn’t sleep without it- that sometimes, when he was anxious, he felt himself reaching for the thing- but if he was relaxed, the idea of holding something even vaguely similar made him sick to his stomach. 

Steve then moved on to describe the sleepless nights, how he made himself patrol Hawkins from sundown to sunup on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights, often trudging through the forest with his bat, ready to kill the next ‘big bad’ that came from the dimension existing under their feet. 

Robin contributed what she could when Steve reached the events at Starcourt. After hours of talking in hushed whispers under the covers of Mr. and Mrs. Harrington’s bed, the three of them passed out, too exhausted to keep their eyes open. 

The next few weeks were hard, but the three of them got through the nightmares together. Before Eddie knew it, the school year was starting, Robin and Steve were inseparable, working together at Family Video (because the two could barely spend a minute apart), and July 4th, 1985 felt like a distant thing. 

As the months passed, Eddie and Steve’s relationship only became stronger, and in March of 1986, when Eddie watches Chrissy Cunningham be killed by seemingly supernatural forces, he knows who to call. 

With a proactive start on things, they kill Vecna on the first try. No one dies- really, the worst that happens is a couple of scratches here and there. They live. 

They love. 

One day far in the future, as Eddie watches his husband play with their daughter, he thinks back to that November day in 1984, and sends a quiet thank you to his younger self. That Eddie in the library may have had no idea the long-lasting effects that his plan would’ve had on his life, but Eddie couldn’t be more thankful. Steve was nothing like the ‘lost sheep’ Eddie had initially assessed him to be- he had grown so much, found himself, accepted himself. He was Steve. Eddie’s Steve. He was his own, beautiful, intelligent, kind, sometimes-awkward (yet adorably so), person. 

Secret, Unplanned Step Four: Make Steve Harrington Fall in Love with Me (While I Fall Irresistibly in Love With Him), complete.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:  @ellietheasexylibrarian @cuips-not-cute @melodymeddler @i-have-three-feelings @sc00ps-ahoy @singmeyoursimpsong @patchworkgargoyle @spectrum-spectre @devondespresso @thesuninyaface @obsessivlyme @angeldreamsoffanfic @carlyv @nburkhardt @inspirationorinsanity @rebelspykatie @my2amgaythoughts @lavenderagenda @just-a-tiny-void @mamafaithful @breadboi66 @beholdingloser @randomfandomcontent @oftirnanog @yellowdevilkitten @steves-strapcollection @keep-er-steddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bisexualdisastersworld @jinxjinn @copingmechanizm @blackpanzy @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @evix-syne666 @crisisinverted17 @satan-is-obsessed @shrimply-a-menace @anaibis @trashcanniballecter   @thoughtfulbreadpolice @awholedamnmesstbh @chaoticvictorianspirit @jcmadgirl @satan-is-obsessed @tommyvelvet @sleepdeprivedflower @fruitmix @carvingsnowdogs @annabanannabeth @rhyswritesreadsandcries @a-little-unsteddie @goodolefashionedloverboi @escapingthereality @aellafreya @lololol-1234 

[oreolemur]

Sleeping Beauty Pt2

Link to Pt1 https://www.tumblr.com/oreolemur/750871596148883456/sleeping-beauty-megumi-fushiguro-fanfic?source=share

“Please don’t be mad at me, doll”, you pouted, watching Megumi fight his restraints. “I’m doing this because I love you”. You had the man strapped down to a chair. You left him with nothing but his boxers on. “Who are you?”, he asked, not looking too happy. You walked over to him, cupping his face. “Someone who’s going to take really good care of you”, you blushed. He looked at you in anger. “Why am I here?”. You sat across from him on the couch, staring at him with heart eyes. “Because I’m obsessed with you”, you replied. “I love everything about you”. Your voice squealed, thinking about that day. “I remember when you saved me from that evil curse. Ever since then…I made it my mission to track you down”. Megumi struggled more, getting even more angry. “Untie me”, he demanded.  Tilting your head, you admired him. “Why? So you can fight me and escape?”. 

You got up, walking over to him. “That’s not gonna happen”. You straddled his lap, taking a seat. The chair creaked as it held the both of you. You looked Megumi in the eyes, taking in all his beautiful features. “I love you so much”, you said, kissing his cheek. He grunted, moving his face away from you. “You’re disgusting”, he insulted. Your heart ached in pain, hearing him call you that. “Why are you so mean to me, doll?”, you questioned. You grabbed the man’s face, forcing him to look at you. “I’ve been nothing but sweet”. You stared into his eyes, seeing your reflection. “Untie me now…or else”, Megumi warned. It broke your heart to see your lover being so defiant. Your grip tightened around his chin. “Or else what?”, you said. “What are you going to do to me?”. It was clear to him that you got excited over that. “I would love to have your hands on me”. 

Moving his head to the side, you stared at his exposed neck. “You have such beautiful skin, Meg”. You licked his flesh, giving it slow sloppy kisses. Megumi’s face flushed red. “Stop that”, he said. You grind your hips on his lap, feeling his halfway hardened cock. Your nightgown slightly rose up, making you feel the cold breeze on your bare ass. “Mmph”, you moaned. Drool leaked down Megumi’s neck, wettening his collarbone. You bruised his pale skin, leaving pinkish red marks on him. Leaning up, you kissed his cheek as you ran your hands down his body. “Aww, you’re blushing”, you giggled. The man side-eyed you as he looked away. “Do you want more?”, you asked, rubbing his half hard half soft cock over his pants. You grabbed his face again, demanding his attention. “I asked you a question”. 

He looked at you annoyed. “Does it look like I want this?”, he gritted. You squint your eyes, becoming irritated. “Fine”, you got off him, heading into the living room. On the coffee table there was a small box. You picked it up, approaching Megumi. “Since you want to be mean…”, you paused, opening it. “I’ll have to do this the hard way”. You took out a syringe, filling it up with a knock out drug. “Put that in me and I’ll kill you”, he threatened. You ignored him, walking over. You sat on his lap once more. “I don’t have to use this, you know”. The two of you stared at each other. “But…if you’re going to act like a brat…I have no other choice”, you forced his head to the side, sticking the needle in his neck. “Shit”, Megumi seethed. You took out the syringe, licking the blood that leaked from the puncture wound. “Sleep, my love”, you whispered into his ear.  He squirmed around, slowly passing out. “Sweet dreams”. 

❤~Time Skip~❤

“You must like it when I fuck you unconscious”, you smiled, taking off your clothes. You got on top of Megumi, who was already stripped from his underwear. “It’s just like our first night together”. Your hands rubbed his body, feeling how toned his figure is. “You’re mine…and no one can have you but me”. You leaned into his face, licking his cheek. “So soft and delicate”. Your hand reached for his scalp, pulling his hair. You stared at him with a serious expression. “You will learn to love me”. Letting go, you kissed his lips. You made out with the man, savoring his taste. Your hand sneakingly went down to his cock, gently stroking it. “Get hard for me, baby”. You felt his dick slowly get hard. It stood up stiff in your hand, slightly twitching. 

As you continued to jerk him off, you made your way down his body. Your face soon came in contact with his cock. You smiled at it. “Your cock is so pretty”, you said, kissing the pink tip, which leaked precum. You licked circles around it, making Megumi jump. “Sensitive, huh?”. You slowly sucked him in, putting every inch into your mouth. “God he tastes so good”, you blushed. You deepthroated him, going all the way down to his pelvis. From there, you made your way back up to his tip, sucking him hard. “Mm”, you moaned. Your lips were wrapped around his cock tightly, almost tiring your mouth out. Megumi’s body twitched, making small movements with his fingers and toes. You sucked him up some more,soon taking him out. *Pop*. You started to jerk him off, feeling his cock pulsate. “I can tell you’re about to cum”, you smiled.

Megumi moaned and began to breathe heavily. You tighten your hand around his dick, pumping him faster. “Be a good doll, Meg”, you giggled. Your hand moved faster and faster, until he ultimately came. He spurted loads, getting some on your face. “I’m so proud of you, doll”. You had fun licking him clean. “Your cum tastes so good”. You licked him some more, stopping briefly. Megumi started to make more noises, signaling you that he was about to wake up. “Oh dear”, you said, getting off him. You walked to your dresser, picking up another syringe. “One more dose wouldn’t hurt”. You approached the man, sticking the needle in his neck. His movements stopped. “That’s it honey. Sleep”. You throw the object to the side as you straddle Megumi once more. Your cunt hovered above his hardened cock, rubbing yourself against him. “I can’t have you waking up just yet”, you giggled. “After all...you are my sleeping beauty”.

[watchmegetobsessed]

LIKE FINE WINE

A/N: i don't know where this one came from, but i thought about this while cleaning today so i wrote it!

WORD COUNT: 1k

SUMMARY: Harry needs glasses, but he refuses to put them on and there's a deeper meaning behind it than you thought.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“H, don’t be such a baby!”

“I’m not!”

“Then put them on!”

“No.”

“Oh my God!” you groan which then turns into laughter as the infuriating conversation carries on over such a mundane and insignificant thing. Or so you thought it was insignificant, but it seemingly means the end of the world to Harry.

He sits by the table, arms folded over his chest, a grumpy look on his face that reminds you of the teddy bear from his Gucci collection. He denies having any similarities to the bear, but at times like this you just want to take a photo of him and put it side-by-side with the design.

Grabbing the pair of glasses that’s been treated as the devil by your husband you hold them out for him.

“H, just put them on. Please!”

“Why? I’ll just wear them when I need them,” he shrugs, still refusing to even touch the glasses.

“Tell me a time when you don’t need to see,” you narrow your eyes before sighing. “Come on, you can’t be this vain!”

“I’m not vain!” he scoffs, but even just the way he said that tells otherwise.

“Then put on the glasses! You need them! You’ve been squinting at the TV for months and you’ve been misreading signs at concerts!”

“I feel like I’m being attacked,” he mumbles under his breath as he stands from the table, moving to the kitchen and you exhale in defeat, putting the glasses back to the table before you follow him.

“Harry, why wouldn’t you wear them? You were grumpy before we went to the ophthalmologist too, but I thought you were just afraid there might be more to it than just your eyesight going bad, like having glaucoma or something. I thought you’ll be fine once it turns out you just need glasses, so then what’s the problem here?”

“It’s not gonna be fine, Y/N! I don’t want glasses, I see just fine!” he protests again.

“You don’t!” you laugh in disbelief. “Is it the glasses? You don’t like them on you? We can just get another one or maybe get contact lenses, how about that?”

“I don’t want any of that! I’m fine and my eyes are fine too!” he snaps back, truly upset this time and you know it’s past just some random tantrum when he storms into the bedroom and shuts the door behind him.

There’s really more to it, now you know. But how can you help him if he doesn’t talk to you about it?

Leaving the glasses behind you go after your upset husband. You don’t knock on the door, just softly push it open, peeking inside before walking in, seeing Harry sitting on the edge of the bed on his side, his head hanging low. You sit beside him and place a gentle hand on his knee closer to you.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I told you, I just don’t want to wear—“

“I know there’s more to that, H. Why are you so against them?”

He exhales sharply, closing his eyes for a moment before he takes your hand on his knee. At first you think he’ll just push it away, but instead, he links his fingers together with yours, so you give him a squeeze and kiss his shoulder as you wait for him to speak up.

“It’s just a reminder that… I’m getting older. I never needed glasses, my eyesight has been perfect for over thirty years!” His head falls back and you just want to kiss him and tell him it’s alright, but you also want him to talk it out so you remain silent and wait for him to continue. “Now it’s the glasses, tomorrow I might wake up with a random back pain and then boom, suddenly I’m sixty and feel like I’ve wasted my time.”

“Do you feel like you’ve been wasting your time?” you softly ask. He takes a few moments to think before shaking his head.

“No. I spend it with you, with making music… I’m not wasting it.”

“So then why do you think you’ll waste it in the future?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers, finally looking into your eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me, it’s just… Sometimes it hits me how fast time is passing by.”

“I know, it’s scary. But as long as you do things you love doing and spend your time with your loved ones, you’re not wasting it.”

“You’re right.”

“Plus, we’re getting old together,” you smile at him. “I’ve been finding grey hair all over my head for years.”

“They look gorgeous on you.”

“Ah! So you’ve noticed too?” you gasp with a laugh.

“Yeah, but I think it’s sexy,” he shrugs.

“You know what’s sexy too? Glasses,” you bring up again and he takes it noticeably easier this time.

“Uh-huh, right,” he mumbles.

“Come on, let me see you in them.”

You pull him out of the bedroom and back to the dining table, taking your previous spots and you hand the glasses to him. This time, he takes them and puts them on.

You can’t push down a gasp.

“What? Is it that bad?” he asks, reaching up to take them off, but you stop him instantly.

“No, it’s… God, you look really hot in them.”

“Really? You’re just saying that to make me feel better, aren’t you?” he narrows his eyes at you, but you shake your head, moving closer to him, hands on his thighs as you lean in, your face just inches away from his.

“No, you look so fucking sexy, Harry, I swear… Like a… Like a sexy professor,” you smirk at him coyly.

“And you’re into that?”

“Kinda. You had nothing to worry about, you age like fine wine,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him

He examines your face, looking for any signs of lies, but when he realizes you actually meant it, he can’t hold back his growing grin.

“Oh yeah? So, Miss Styles, I’m afraid you’re late on the assignment. What should we do about that?” he asks, getting into some roleplaying, his issues with the glasses now long gone.

“Well, Professor Styles, I have a few ideas how I can make up for it,” you giggle before pressing your lips against his.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[oftenwantedafton]

the new hire | steve raglan x female reader

rating | explicit

part 5/?

words | 5k

cw | dom/sub, oral sex

ao3 link

Three more nights at Freddy’s.

Three uneventful evenings, three boring shifts where you sit and stare at the monitors in the security office and see nothing unusual. You know you should feel grateful that there are no intruders. No sign of the rabbit.

No sign of Steve Raglan, either. It still hasn’t occurred to you that those two might be linked. For now, they are separate phenomena.

Friday morning you return home from work and shower and lie in bed, willing your eyes to shut. Sleep is still evading you, even though you’re tired. Your phone rings and it startles you. You rarely got calls. You have no friends. Few living relatives, and those few don’t care to contact you.

You answer and you know, before he even speaks, that it’s Steve on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello. It’s me. Just checking in,” he says, using that same deceptively cheerful tone he’d had when you’d first met in his office. “Doesn’t sound like I’ve woken you up.” You doubt he’d feel remorse if he had. “How have things been going at Freddy’s?”

You sit up, your fingers fussing with the comforter. You can’t imagine he’d call just to shoot the breeze. So what did he want now? “Everything has been quiet.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. Listen, you’ll need to swing by the office to collect your wages today. I am booked solid for the weekend and won’t be able to stop by like I did last time.”

“Um…okay.” You wonder what’s going to be keeping the social worker so occupied. Of course it’s none of your business, but still. The lack of attention you’ve received these last few nights has been unpleasant. Even Raglan’s strange company is better than none.

You squint at the alarm clock beside the bed. It’s not even nine yet. “I guess I could just head on over now.” You fling the blanket back, preparing to slide out of bed.

“No, that won’t do. I’ve got a full schedule of clients to see today, and you need to get some rest before your shift tonight. Can’t expect you to function properly without it. It’s really best if you came later. Say, around six?”

You can’t imagine that it will be that big of a deal to hand you cash. That should take all of several seconds. But of course he’s going to make this complicated. “Doesn’t the office close at five?”

The friendly tone slips a bit. He doesn’t like being questioned like this. You know it. You know better than to argue. You wonder if you don’t secretly enjoy bringing out the darker side of him. Spread over his lap. God, you’d been absolutely soaked…“Yes, it does. Which is why you’ll be arriving after hours. I’ll be getting caught up on paperwork until then.”

“How am I going to get into the office?”

A heavy, exasperated sigh. “I’ll let you in, obviously. Be prompt. I’m not going to stand at the door waiting forever.”

“Okay. I’ll be there at six.”

“Excellent. See you then. Sweet dreams,” he adds, and those two rough words make you feel warm and aching all over again.

***

If you have any sweet dreams, you don’t recall them.

You debate about getting dressed for work before heading back to the DSS office. You’ll have several hours to kill. Maybe you could come back home and squeak in another nap. In the end, you decide to wear something casual. It’s not like you were going for a job interview. You’re not trying to impress Steve.

Except that’s not entirely true, is it? Because you spend a little longer getting ready, making sure your appearance is tidy, applying light makeup and body spray and earrings. You choose a v neck tee that clings to your figure, draped over dark wash jeans and you tell yourself, as you look in the mirror, that you are strictly going there to collect your pay, and that is all. There’s no reason to expect anything else might happen.

You hate how you have butterflies in your stomach. You hate that you’re so eager to see the older man, so eager to please him. By the time you leave your apartment, your anxiety is through the roof.

There are still cars in the parking lot when you arrive, so apparently the social worker isn’t the only straggler in the building. Not a lot, though; it was Friday night, after all.

The entrance to the office is framed in glass. You can see the tall man waiting for you on the other side, arms folded. You check your watch. You’re on time. A little early, even. Which meant he’d been waiting early, too. Anticipating…what, you don’t know.

There’s a bruise on your hip from your last encounter with this man; a bruise on your soul and you don’t know which is worse, the physical harm or the emotional manipulation. Why do you crave him so much?

Raglan opens the door once you reach it, the narrow wedge you’re allotted no longer surprising you. You brush past him, eyes downcast, that brief touch of his body against yours like lighting a match, heat blooming. You hear the snap of the door being locked behind you and then without a word he begins walking down the hall, leaving you to catch up.

When you reach Steve’s office he shuts the door behind you. He could have already handed to the cash and been done with you. So why bring you here? Why shut that solid wood barrier?

He drops into the leather chair behind the desk, much as he had in the cloth one in the security office, with that same careless abandon. The seat rotates back and forth and you wonder if he ever just spins around like a child would, just for fun. There are little details in the room that you hadn’t noticed the first time you’d been here. The many framed awards lining the walls. The wire rabbit with its slotted ribs to organize and tuck mail into. A map of the local district and some generic looking nature scene that was probably mass produced, something the company had provided. There’s an eyeglass case and some change and a set of car keys on the desk, the rabbit’s foot now a familiar sight. A lot of keys on that ring. Some of them for Freddy’s, most likely.

Raglan runs his index and middle fingers over his moustache, then strokes the facial hair covering his chin. Whiter there than other places. He looks at you like he might a puzzle piece, trying to discern where you fit in, which way he needs to align you to make you slot properly into whatever grand design he’s orchestrating; his secret, meant for none but him alone to enjoy.

The money is curled in his other fist. You notice it now, when he relaxes his grip and reveals it. You imagine it is warm from his body heat. He stretches the arm out and you walk towards it. His wrist turns and the bills land in a pile on the carpet. You descend to your knees, reaching again, but his foot shifts and swiftly covers the currency, leaving your fingers empty. Your lashes lift and you see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Your hand curls around his calf. You press your lips to the inside of one knee. His breath hitches.

You stare up at him. Still wrapped around one leg, still watching him warily. Wanting. Waiting. His hand reaches for your face, fingers curling under your chin. Thumb spread over your lips and then speared between, pushing past your lips and teeth and stopping when he’s nestled against your tongue. Your eyes linked as you suck that digit, curling around it with the wet muscle and stroking, clutching it against your palate, feeling creases and whorls, joint and nail bed. Discovering the taste of the currency he’d clutched, that odd metallic flavor sunk into cotton and linen blended threads.

It’s not enough, you want to taste more of him, reaching for the button fastening his shirt sleeve. A small alarmed sound when you succeed, catching another glimpse of that pink scar you thought you’d seen during your interview. Was he ashamed of it? You don’t mind it, tongue darting out to lick along the pulse there, and the sound he makes, that deep groan, echoes in your core.

“Stand up.”

Your mouth abandons his skin. You frown a question at the older man. You’d thought he wanted you at his feet, on the floor, between his legs, worshipping at what dwells at the apex of them.

“Up,” he grates again, and you hastily comply.

“Why didn’t you wear something easier to remove?” The chair creaks as he leans forward, fingers at the button fly of your denim. “Surely you had some inkling…” The zipper is yanked down and his fingers curl around the waistband, dragging the jeans down until they’re resting midway across your thighs. “The scent of your depraved fantasies…oh.” A little huff of surprise when he shoves the hem of your shirt up and you scramble to hold it out of the way—why had you worn something so awkward, honestly—and he sees the discoloration he’s left. The ecchymosis has faded a bit, shifting from dark blue and purple to a fainter shade of maroon. He strokes over that bruised patch of flesh with a soft caress, completely ignoring the lace panties you’ve chosen to wear (yes, you’d had an inkling, as he’d called it, hopeful and lusting but you don’t want to admit it, not to yourself nor to him) keeping his attention solely focused on that injury he’d previously inflicted.

Then he kisses the spot and you think you might just die then, just spontaneously combust, because it’s so awkwardly tender and so near the area you really want his mouth at, feeling that brush of facial hair stroking your mound, between your thighs. He pulls at the damaged skin with his mouth, sucking, and a fresh sting erupts there while his fingers curl around and knead one cheek, another reminder of where he’s been before, meting punishment to balance the pleasure he’s about to gift you now.

The crotch of your panties is dragged to one side—a tight strain, the fabric isn’t very giving—wedging against your groin, digging into the crease while his tongue delves over the exposed pink flesh, the tip curling and thrusting between legs you wish you could part better, but you’re restricted by those stupid jeans you’d decided to wear that he clearly has no intention of removing further. So you stand on legs that are already trembling like a newborn foal’s, this older man seated in front of you with his nose digging into your mound and his tongue trying to collect whatever essence it can, scraping and prodding while the beard you’d imagined to be coarse and abrasive is instead a soft textured brush that only heightens everything. His glasses are knocked askew and you pull them off with your free hand, setting them on the desk beside you, the other still occupied with keeping the hem of your shirt out of the social worker’s way, letting you see the glory of him ravaging your cunt even in this limited fashion and it’s the single most erotic thing you’ve ever seen or felt in your life.

You’re touching his hair now, sifting through the layers, and you realize it is many, many colors, not simply gray and white but every shade in between, silky ribbons shading from dark to light, stormy sky to bright daybreak. The fervor with which he consumes you only intensifies, sending your hurtling through the path of ultimate bliss, your twitching bud finally surrendering to the relentless lashes of Steve’s tongue. You cum in his mouth and you hear the strangled inhale through his nostrils, your body mashed against his face, the fingers on his head cupping and shoving him closer and closer. A hum of sound and the hand on your ass tightens and the hypersensitivity that makes you want to recoil and push him back for respite transcends into something else. He’s got you there again, right on the brink, and you bite your tongue to stifle the wail when you climax a second time, still unsure if anyone else is left in the office to hear you.

Raglan eventually moves away, slouching against the back of the leather chair, looking disheveled and this, this is what you had envisioned when you’d called him, asking him to come to the restaurant that night. Climbing out of bed, hair tousled, clothes rumpled, that careful, neat appearance suddenly wild and raw and natural. You’re still trembling, still caught in the turbulent throes post orgasm, managing to lean over and capture his lips and he allows it, allows you to smooth back the slightly curled lock of hair that’s descended across his forehead, lap at the damp mouth that tastes familiar, like your own sex, while you reach down for his crotch and find him hard and straining.

Your descent to your knees is less than graceful—your thighs are still effectively shackled—but you manage the task, just as you manage to open his fly and shove the waistband of his briefs down. There is a lot there for your mouth, for your throat; daunting, but you’re determined. You want to take this man apart, enjoying this sudden shift in power, where he’s allowing you to direct the course of every action. You tease a few licks before you properly take his cock in your mouth and suck and the noise this elicits is one you know you’re going to savor again later, when you’re alone and you remember this, a backdrop for self pleasure. It’s a needy sort of whimper, a surprised sort of pleading sound. You can feel the tremors wracking his thighs already. He’s not going to last long. Your mouth is as relentless as his own had been, working up and down, straining with a lewd, wet slap each time he collides further and further back. He spills so deeply in your throat you don’t even taste it at first, until the pulsing head rests on the base of your tongue, when he jerks your head back so he can see your depravity, blown pupils meeting blown pupils, white cum still staining your red mouth and that breathy little moan hummed through his lips betraying just how much he’d enjoyed it.

You swallow the rest of his load down—bitter, as you’d known it would be—and sit back on your heels, realizing the two of you are still panting, still struggling to recover. You watch him shove himself back into his pants and you take that as a signal that you’re to do the same, grabbing up the cash you can finally reach off the carpet—and damn if that doesn’t make you feel like more of a whore than collecting your wages at the diner ever had, like he’d insinuated—before you push yourself upright, shimmying back into your jeans after tugging the crotch of your panties back towards the middle where it belongs.

You have absolutely no idea what to do now. He had started this, whatever this was, and you’d finished it, and now you’re struggling not to feel used and empty. In the heat of the moment everything had been perfect, but now you want all of that stupid, sappy stuff that you believe should come after intimacy. You want cuddles and pillow talk and of course this is hardly the time or the place for that. This isn’t anything even remotely resembling something like that; it’s not a relationship, not anything really, just the release of pent up tension between the two of you, but you stare at his face and you crave those lips and you want his arms around you. You know he’s going to tell you to leave and you’ll do it because he told you to but you wish, for one silly little moment, that he’d request the opposite instead. Ask me to stay. Tell me you want more. I want more than this.

Raglan’s refastened his shirt sleeve and slid those ill fitting glasses back into place and he almost resembles his usual tidy self. Some of his hair is still mussed and your fingers itch to help straighten it (or better yet make it messier) but you resist the urge. It had been okay, before. You know it wouldn’t be now.

“I have to finish my work. You should try to take a nap before your shift.” His voice is quiet. He’s not meeting your eyes. You follow him out of his office. Everyone must be gone now. It’s dimly lit and quiet.

There are a million things you want to say as you wait for him to unlock the door. Instead you remain silent. You force yourself to walk away, knowing he’s watching every step you take.

***

You don’t sleep.

Can’t, not after what’s happened in the career counselor’s office. His mouth on you. Your mouth on him. Taking each other apart. Those memories alone are going to be enough to fuel your next rounds of self pleasure for a long time.

The first hour of your shift passes without incident.

Then you see movement on one of the screens. Not the rabbit. A human. Male. Dressed in dark clothing. It looks like he’s climbed in through some vent on the outside.

The security door is unlocked, as Steve had instructed. You’re already dialing his number, keeping a wary eye on the stranger. He’s brought a flashlight, shining the beam around. Thief? Thrill seeker? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

The phone keeps ringing. Come on, Steve. Nothing. You redial in case you’ve hit the wrong numbers, even though you’re certain they’d been correct. Even try the office, thinking maybe he’d fallen asleep at his desk. No answer, just voicemail.

Police, then. You don’t have any other choice. You’ll deal with the consequences later. Surely pissing off Steve couldn’t be worse than letting this guy do whatever it was he was planning on doing.

You lift the receiver again and hear nothing. No dial tone. Complete silence. The phone is no longer working.

The threads of panic that had begun to squirm through you earlier now writhe, demanding attention. You don’t even have any kind of a weapon to defend yourself.

You should really lock the door. Again, Steve be damned.

You stand, intending to do just that. From the distance you hear the sound of glass shattering. Shit. Not just a casual explorer, then.

The lights go out.

You’d completely forgotten about the warning you’d been issued about how the electricity tended to be fickle. You normally just switch it on at the start of your shift and back off again before you leave. The office is completely dark. No more monitors. The emergency lighting in the hallway glows red. You’ll have to reset the breaker if you want full power restored. Which means leaving the office. That pitch dark room you no longer want to hide in.

Another crash. This sounded like something heavy. Metal striking another object. You’re still hovering in the open doorway. The switch for the power isn’t that far away. You could make it there and back again, surely. You take a step forward, your fingers still hooked around the doorframe. Another step. Now you hold only air. You keep walking. Your chest feels tight. It hurts trying to breathe so shallowly. You try to keep your tred light. It couldn’t be much farther. Just a few more steps. You think you can make out the shape of it, the box jutting out from the wall.

You’re not alone in the hallway.

The intruder has found his way here. He starts towards you and you jerk to a halt, taking a step back.

From the depths of the service room, the figure of the decaying rabbit animatronic emerges.

You don’t see the silver eyes. Its back is to you, facing the other man. You hear the sound of something striking the mascot, the clatter of that object as it hits the floor. The human male’s body is lifted and flung against the nearest wall. You can hear bones snapping.

You’ve lost your footing in your haste to back up. You scrabble backward on hands and feet, the soles of your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. You’re no longer trying to quiet your breathing. It comes and goes in a harsh, desperate whine. The rabbit’s bulk does nothing to slow it down. It’s right in front of you. Those strange glowing eyes focused on this vulnerable prey. You can hear it breathing, a dry, rusty sort of drag. There’s a roaring sound in your ears. It’s getting harder and harder to see, to focus. You’re blacking out. Darkness.

***

You awaken to feel something cool and wet being pressed against your forehead.

You blink rapidly, struggling to get your bearings. You’re no longer in the restaurant. You’re in a car. Steve Raglan’s car.

There’s a blue flashing light nearby. Police cruiser? You catch a glimpse of blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The young female officer gets behind the wheel of the vehicle and drives away, the tires screeching as she peels out of the parking lot.

“What…”

“You’re okay. Look at me.”

You try to focus on the social worker’s features. His hair looks a little damp. He’s still dressed in his office attire. “What happened?” You lick your lips. They’re so dry. You can barely get the words out.

“Someone broke into Freddy’s. The police just escorted them away.”

“I didn’t call them.”

“I know. I did.”

“I tried to call you. There was no answer. I even tried the office. Then the phone went dead.”

“The line was cut.”

“By that man?”

“Yes.”

“So how did you call the police?”

“I didn’t call from Freddy’s. I called the police as soon as there was no answer here. I knew something was wrong.”

“You’ve never called me at work.” You frown, shaking your head. Things still seemed fuzzy. You feel like you’re missing pieces of the puzzle. “What did that guy want, anyway?”

“That’s for the authorities to sort out.”

“Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

Steve stares at you for long moments. “I was unavailable.”

“At midnight? What were you doing?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“I could have gotten hurt. Seriously hurt. You realize that, right? This is so asinine. You’ve got me guarding this place with no training, no weapons, you tell me just to call you when I need you, and when I needed you, you weren’t there.” The words spill out in a rush. Fear and anger, betrayal and hurt coursing through you.

“I apologize.”

“You apologize? No, that’s not good enough, that’s—” He cuts you off by leaning over to kiss you. Your brain short circuits instantly. Why does he always feel so good? “You can’t just do that and expect it to make everything okay,” you manage when you part for air.

“It makes it better though, doesn’t it?”

Kiss it and make it better, Daddy. Oh, fuck. How can you be thinking about sex at a time like this?

“Where did you find me?”

“The hallway in the back. Why?”

“The rabbit was there again. It was fighting with the man. I think it was trying to help me. Don’t tell me I didn’t see it. It was there. I heard it breathing.”

“The animatronics don’t breathe. They’re not alive.” His voice is surprisingly gentle and patient, as if he’s explaining to a child how the Easter bunny isn’t real.

“This one is,” you insist stubbornly. “You can think I’m delusional. I know what I saw. Something is happening here.”

The older man turns his attention to the steering wheel, reaching to turn the key in the ignition. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day, I think. I’m taking you home.”

“What? My shift isn’t over.” You look at the digital display that glows green on the vehicle’s dashboard. It’s barely two.

“You won’t be docked for not completing the shift.”

“I’m capable of driving myself home.”

“I’m taking you,” he repeats, the firm disciplinary tone taking hold once more.

“I don’t want to leave my car here.”

“No one is going to touch it. The police are keeping watch for the rest of the night in case the intruder had an accomplice. They’ll be doing frequent patrol sweeps to make certain.”

“There wasn’t anyone else. Just him.”

“That you saw, until the power went out and you lost the monitors.”

You fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of a comeback. “Do you ever sleep? How come you’re always so wide awake in the middle of the night?”

He glances over at you and smirks, flicking a finger over the tip of his nose before returning to view the road. It’s deserted at this hour. “Coffee. I tried to tell you.”

“It tastes awful.” You’ve never admitted it out loud before.

“I never said it doesn’t. It’s much like alcohol in that regard. It has to be tempered to make it palatable.”

“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” you realize out loud.

“I’m not taking you to your place. I’m taking you to mine.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

“Any more complaints?”

“No.” You stare hard out the window. You hadn’t been expecting this. Any of this. How was it possible for this man to keep disarming you at every turn?

“Good.”

A house. He lives in a house, you silently answer the question you’d wondered previously. Two stories. Two car garage that he neglects to use, pulling into the driveway. You realize suddenly you’ve never once asked if he was married or had children. You’d just assumed.

Just assumed he was alone and waiting for you to fall, quite literally, into his lap.

It seems like a big living space for one person, but you don’t dare question it. You follow him meekly inside. He tosses the keys onto a table by the door, flicking on the lightswitch and then turning the deadbolt.

So far today you’ve gotten eaten out in the career counselor’s office, sucked his dick, almost gotten hurt by a trespasser at your job, possibly rescued? by a monster rabbit that doesn’t really exist and now you were in said career counselor’s home. All in the span of less than twelve hours. Unbelievable.

“I’m sure you’re ready to knock out. The master bedroom’s up here,” he invites, ascending the nearby stairs.

“What, I’m not going to spend the night on the couch?”

“You’re getting awfully mouthy. I’m not certain I like this new brashness,” he tosses over his shoulder as he continues climbing the stairs.

“You liked the mouthiness earlier,” you mutter softly, thinking he won’t hear you.

“I can see I’ve been too lenient.”

Oh, he’d heard.

You both reach the top of the stairs and he leans, reaching around you to flip the hall lights back off. Suddenly you’re in the dark again. Listening to breathing.

His hand finds yours. You’re pulled into one of the nearby rooms and a lightswitch is flipped, partially alleviating the tense moment. You watch him rummage in a dresser for a shirt, tossing it at you and pointing as you hastily clutch it to your chest. “Bathroom’s that way. Get changed.”

As if you’d want to sleep in the security uniform, especially after being on the floor of the restaurant. You wouldn’t mind a bath or a shower but you think that’s asking for too much. You duck into the other room and quickly get changed. It’s just an undershirt, solid white. You stare at yourself in the mirror. What, exactly, are you doing? Spending the night at this man’s house. In his bed.

You run your tongue over your teeth. You want to brush them. “Hey, Steve, is there a spare toothbrush? I don’t want to rummage through your stuff.” You open the door to find him standing just outside. Your mouth goes dry again. Fuck, you want him so bad it hurts.

“Here.” He steps inside, crowding you slightly against the sink as he reaches to open the medicine cabinet, withdrawing what you’d requested. “Don’t squeeze the toothpaste in the middle. I hate that.”

You glance, bemused, at the tube with its neat, empty curl at the end. “What will happen if I do?” You murmur.

“Don’t tempt me.” His hand grazes your ass and then he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You don’t spend too long cleaning your teeth. There’s too much want in you, want for what’s behind that closed door. You open it and find him waiting his turn, leaning against the wall. You discover the comforter and top sheet are now pulled back. Slate gray. Masculine. You have pastel pink at home. Full. Not a King size like this. Luxurious. How many thread count in these sheets? Your head sinks into the pillow. Perfect. Not too firm, not too soft.

Steve exits the bathroom. Watches you get comfortable. Sits on the other side of the mattress and reaches for the light. Darkness again. You hear the sounds of fabric shifting as he gets undressed. You wonder why he doesn’t want you seeing him bare. Are there more scars? The springs creak as he changes positions, standing again to remove his pants. Back down, now lying beside you.

Your face turns in his direction. Your heart is pounding. His arm reaches, dragging you against him. Spoons laid together. His breath by your ear. “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

You don’t want to behave. You want to turn over and touch and taste. But you obey. You close your eyes and try to soothe your racing pulse. You concentrate on the crisp feel of the bed linens beneath you and Raglan’s warm arms around you and you find yourself enveloped in slumber.

[divine-knight-hand]

Um hi! Would it be ok if I could request FNAF Michael Afton relationship sfw and nsfw headcanons with a Introvert female reader? Please and thank you!

OMG! Hi, Anon!!! That's way more than okay! As an introverted female myself, I would love nothing more than to give my headcanons on this! 😆

You're also my first request, so congratulations! I may or may not have jumped on starting this faster than a cat jumps on the light from a lazer pointer. I also may or may not have stayed up later than I should have while writing this... 😅

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy, Anon! I went pretty in-depth (maybe more than I should have, but I regret nothing! 😼).

Link to photo: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/564568503297849129

Michael Masterlist || Full Masterlist

Pairing: Michael Afton x Introverted!Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff and smut, undertones of anxiety (you kind of have to squint), soft dom!Michael, sub!reader, missionary, praise, cunnilingus

SFW

At work, he typically keeps to himself, but not because he's painfully shy like you are. He's okay with talking to others when he has to. In fact, he's pretty charismatic when he does talk to others, which is what drew you to him in the first place.

A lot of your time together was spent in silence. He didn't consider it awkward, though. It was a comfortable silence to him.

He even thought your shyness was cute at times. The way you twiddled your thumbs or bit your lip drove him wild.

Michael confessed his feelings to you first, of course, but he was blushing and nervously scratching the back of his neck the whole time. He instantly let out a breath of relief when you reciprocated his feelings before pulling you into a hug.

He's extremely considerate of your boundaries, always checking with you before doing something he thinks might even remotely bother you.

Right before your first kiss, he softly whispered, "Can I kiss you?" You eagerly nodded, cupping his face in your hands as he closed the gap between your mouths.

Since then, you've immediately grown a lot more comfortable with him, opening up to him a lot more. Knowing that he could put someone like you at ease filled him with a huge sense of pride.

He's grown a sense of protectiveness over you. He gets furious when other men start flirting with you, because he knows it makes you feel uncomfortable. He's threatened to send many a man to the hospital on your behalf. He once almost followed through…

He tries to inspire you to speak up for yourself more. He knows he can only help so much with your strong avoidance of confrontation, and the thought of you just lowering your head and dealing with things you know you're not okay with makes him a little sick.

"Tell me what's on your mind, love"

"Come on, love, I couldn’t possibly help you if I don’t know what’s troubling you.”

Much much MUCH physical contact. He’ll hold your hand, wrap his arm around your shoulders, let you rest your head on his shoulder. All of it! Even when you’re not talking, he doesn’t want you to doubt for a second that he’s absolutely in love with you.

He’ll also hug you from behind and rest his head on your shoulder a lot, especially when you’re doing something and can’t turn around to hug him back right away.

He loves feeling your hands in his hair when you’re kissing. Just had to throw that out there.

Will he shower you with compliments? Absolutely! He never expects you to respond, either, especially since you almost never know how. He just wants you to know.

“You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”

Once your social battery runs out, he’ll immediately take you home. It doesn’t matter where you are. He won’t hesitate. Your comfort is top priority for him.

NSFW

In this relationship dynamic, I could see him as a soft dom.

His favorite position with you is missionary. He loves whispering praise in your ear as he’s slowly thrusting into you.

“That’s it, love. Just like that…”

“You feel so good. I can’t get enough of you.”

He also loves holding your hand the whole time. From start to finish. He’ll even give your hand a small squeeze as a warning that he’s close.

He’s very big on kissing. He’ll kiss any part of you that he can reach in the moment.

He accidentally marks you up from time to time. He just can’t help himself.

When he eats you out, he eats like he’s been starving. He’ll still hold your hand, too.

He loves having your legs draped over his shoulders, and the taste of you is intoxicating to him.

Regardless of the position, he loves every little sound you make, from breaths to moans to whimpers. He wants to hear it all. They only serve to spur him on, after all~

Even in the bedroom, he’ll make sure to keep trying to get you to speak your mind.

“What do you want me to do, love? Use your words…”

“Tell me, how’s that feel? Good? Good…”

He’s open to a lot. Anything you ask him to try, he’ll do it at least once.

He takes your comfort very seriously. If you seem apprehensive, even in the slightest, he’ll stop everything to ask if you’re okay.

“The moment I do anything you don’t like, please let me know.”

A dirty little secret of his is that he loves when you rake your nails down his back.

[chaotic-iguana]

Tease

Based on this ask here. Here’s my masterlist and ao3 link.

Summary: Reader teases Joel all day, seemingly getting away with it until a few days later when he decides to get his payback, with a little bit of angst and plot sprinkled in. based on above request. (no/pre-outbreak AU.)

Pairing: husband! joel x reader (no use of y/n)

Wordcount: 4k (yeah i know. i know)

Warnings: bondage, dacryphilia, edging/denial, overstim, mean daddy dom! joel basically just fixing your attitude, smut and fluff, a little angst but its ok he takes care of it, implied/referenced age gap, husband! joel, soft joel but also most importantly malewife! joel ofc. MDNI please

A/N: so i went way off the prompt here and fleshed this out into a whole fic (my longest one yet actually); i hope you dont mind. i did change some elements, but it is still a pre-outbreak fic with an established relationship, and joel does technically punish reader for the pool party. i sprinkled some (~2k words) plot in to sort of have the forgetting about it element yk? and also im just feral for husband joel so this was an extremely experimental fic. i really hope you like it! 

——————————————————————————————————

So far, it had been a really good day.  Your newly-moved-in next door neighbors invited you, Joel, and Sarah over (along with half the block) for their housewarming party. For the first two or so hours, you sat on a reclined chaise next to the pool, watching Sarah splash around with the kids down below while Joel sat next to the grill with the other men, drinking a beer and in a seemingly animated conversation with someone. 

You wanted to laugh at the scene, witty comments about white men crowding to gossip about one of their three common interests - football, grilling or women - sitting just on the tip of your tongue while you chatted with Mia, your long-time neighbor and friend. Lying in the sun with a mimosa in hand, a book on one side of you and a companion on the other made something itch in your brain; a need to break the comfortable lethargy that had set in your bones. 

You were just this close to melting into the lawn chair out of boredom - lifting your head to scan your surroundings for Joel again, squinting underneath a furrowed brow when you can’t seem to find him. He was just there. Huffing, you grabbed the overshirt you had on-his flannel, actually, and pulled it up over your head. Gesturing for Mia to pass over the sunscreen, you took some out in your hand before starting to rub it in circles all over your arms, chest, stomach and legs. 

You were about to turn and try and get some on your back as well, when a man you don’t remember meeting before walked up to you and asked if he could “help you out”. You stuttered and told him it was alright, your husband would do it for you, swiveling your head to find him but gritting your teeth when once again, you couldn’t find Joel. Growing increasingly irritated, you turned to your friend, rolling your eyes at her teasing grin. “Where is he?” you mused, equal parts irritated with Joel for going MIA and with the creepy man you could see still hovering just a few steps away. “Why don’t you go find him? I’ll look after Sarah and yell for you if something happens,” she offers, smiling with a knowing glint in her eye. 

He’d been busy with some big construction contract these past two weeks, and the one morning you thought he’d be able to spend with you was spent with him passed out on the couch; apparently Tommy had needed to be bailed out late the previous night and he’d slipped out while you were sleeping. You missed Joel. He should have been the one helping you with sunblock, not some random guy-John, you’d learned, from two streets down with a chihuahua and a dentistry clinic not too far-who also evidently lacked the ability to shut up, because now your head was swimming with useless things about him he’d offered up to catch your attention, obviously thinking your “husband” was an excuse to end the conversation. 

So maybe you conveniently forgot to put the shirt back on and decided to find Joel in your skimpy swimsuit. Maybe you even batted your lashes at a few of the men gathered on the other side of the pool, and laughed a bit too sweetly and easily at their terrible jokes and obvious flirting. Just as you were about to ask if they’d seen where Joel went, the man himself materialized behind you. You felt a possessive hand grip your waist as he peered at the guys you were talking to with something in his gaze  aggressive enough to suddenly make all the men stuttering, bumbling fools who were instantly unable to meet your eyes, sheepishly muttering excuses before turning back to each other. Suppressing a grin, you turned to him and brought a hand up to his cheek, peering up at him through your lashes. “So evasive, Mr. Miller. I was having such a hard time finding you, I had to settle for spending some time with other people, instead.” You watched his gaze get darker, hardening as he trailed it over your form. Got him. 

“Let me introduce you to my new friend, John. He’s a dentist and he has the cutest dog,” you grip his wrist and tug him behind you before waving at John enthusiastically and walking up to him. John, you found, was also a complete idiot, because he choked on a greeting when he caught sight of your nipples through the swimsuit. Nevertheless, you persisted. “Meet my husband, Joel.” You point at John, explaining to Joel “Y’ know he’s also really kind? Offered to help me apply my sunblock without me asking. I was struggling with my back and chest, wasn’t I John?” you turn back to the man in question with another deceivingly charming smirk, watching him wither under Joel’s scowl and nod meekly; mumbling an apology and slinking towards the drinks. 

Catching sight of Joel’s thunderous expression, you innocently raise a brow at him before stretching exaggeratedly, palming his bulge subtly as you move your hands over your head. “Sitting around in all this heat, think I need to cool off for a bit. See ya later” is all you offer to him, slipping into the adults’ side of the pool before he can retaliate, biting your lip in an effort not to snicker at the frustration teeming from him: clenched fists and tightened jaw, narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. He let out a long, shuddering breath before waving back to Sarah and stalking back to his friends. 

Overall, the party was pretty boring. But holding Joel’s gaze every time you bent forward just a littlemore than necessary, giggled at someone’s musings more than was warranted, or bit your lip in that way you knew drove him crazy before turning away from him and back to whoever you were speaking to? Priceless. You’d be willing to pay to do it again. 

His breaking point was when he saw you get out of the pool, water dripping from your hair and mascara smudged just enough to send images of you with his cock down your throat flashing in his mind - him slamming his beer bottle down before smiling tightly at his companions and thanking the hosts, grousing something about an early morning before his hand was around your wrist and Sarah bundled in his other arm - barely giving you any time for goodbyes as you were being dragged behind him in the direction of your home. 

Laughing at his desperation, you cocked a questioning brow at him before feighning naïvety to the situation. “What’s wrong? I thought you were kept plenty busy at the party, no? Why’re we leaving so soon?” you questioned, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth as you frowned at him and searched his face. “Not early. Been five hours, sweetheart. ‘S a school night, remember?” was all he remarked to you before opening the door and carrying Sarah up to bed. 

You honest-to-God waited for him in bed, but the fatigue from such a thrilling evening caught up quickly after the adrenaline faded. Before you knew it, you’d fallen asleep in your new set of lingerie, blinking awake when your alarm went off at 5 am the next morning. Blearily pulling yourself out of bed, you groaned in frustration at the fact that you still hadn't gotten time with Joel and it was Monday again. Which inevitably meant he'd be caught up in his important contract this week too; coming home late, leaving early, the whole spiel.

The week passed by in a monotonous blur, and you got increasingly snappier with Joel in the short minutes that you did see him, frustrated with the distance that had developed between you two. On top of everything at home, work had gotten more stressful lately as sales didn’t meet the quotas and your boss decided to take it out on all of you. Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered you; he was a dick to you most of the time, but you couldn’t even rant about it to your favorite person because you barely saw him. You needed Joel - not just on top of you - holding you, talking to you, comforting you as before. 

Friday rolled around, and turned out to be extremely shitty while it was at it. Your alarm didn’t go off, thanks to which you reached work thirty minutes later than usual after dropping Sarah off. Some intern had fucked up paperwork, and the fallout was promptly handed to you with a jeering tone and sharp glare as if it was somehow your fault. You’d forgotten lunch at home, so you had to spend the day on stale coffee and somehow bitter biscuits, and when you reached Sarah’s school to pick her up as usual they told you Joel had done it already. Feeling tears of frustration build up in your eyes, you dialed his number while climbing back into your car. Was it so difficult to communicate simple things like ‘I’ll pick her up today’? A text or quick call would have worked; saved you the trip and your boss’s biting remarks about your “priorities” while you walked out of the office to get to Sarah’s school in time. 

When he didn’t pick up, you drove straight home. Fuck going back to work. You needed your bed. And Joel, but he clearly was too busy to so much as pick up a fucking phone. Wiping your eyes, you slammed the car door shut and started trudging to your bedroom, too overwhelmed to notice that the door had been unlocked. Jumping, you gasped in surprise when you walked it and saw Joel sitting on the bed, holding two wine glasses and looking up at you. “What the fuck, Joel? What are you doing here?” you bit out at him. He blinked up at you, frowning at your anger and the tear-stains on your cheek while you glared at him with eyes red from crying. 

“Told the boys to handle it today, thought you looked a bit rough lately, wanted to spent the evening together. Dropped Sarah off at her friend’s house an’ was just about to call you to take the day off. You okay?” his tone was so gentle, concern evident in his voice as he reached a hand out towards you. 

“Call me? Oh, so suddenly you’re capable of using a phone?” you bat his hand away and continue “And I’ve been looking rough?” your laugh is bitter, but your anger morphs into something sharper. “Maybe I’d look less rough if I saw my husband more often or if he could just pick up the damn phone and text me when he’s picking our daughter up so I don’t get into deeper shit with my stupid fucking boss!” You’re yelling by the end of it, but you can’t stop the words tumbling out now. “And I’ve missed you so much, tried so hard on Sunday, but you just didn’t come to bed. This week has been absolute dogshit-fucking interns messed everything up and somehow it’s on me-and you’ve been so distant,so I’m so sorry for looking rough, Joel.” Your tears return with a vengeance, and you turn away from him as you feel them spill over your lashline, pressing your hands into your eyes as your shoulders shake.

And suddenly he’s in front of you, solid and warm and there again, crowding you into his arms and holding you tight against him. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been here, and it’s been tearing me apart too. Missed you every damn day, shoulda seen how I’ve been at the site all week. Been snapping at everyone left and right. And I’m sorry I didn’t pick up - my phone was chargin’ an’ Sarah was telling me a story the whole way there so I didn’t see you’d called till just now.” His hand cradles your head under his chin as the other strokes your back, and he’s so gentle you want to cry harder. 

You stay there for a while until you feel calmer, pulling back to look up at him. His eyes are wide, swimming with worry as he wipes your cheeks with his thumb. You sniff, bringing a hand up to swipe your nose, and grimace apologetically at the wet patch of snot, tears and makeup on his chest. At the quizzical way he raises a brow, you clarify, with a grin: “I’ve completely ruined your shirt.”

“Could think of better ways to ruin shirts, baby. An’ don’t think your effort on Sunday went unnoticed either. Was so damn ready to rip that lacy set off ya, but some idiot kid told Sarah a ghost story an’ I had to check under the bed n’ in the closet every two minutes till she fell asleep. By the time I crawled into bed, you were asleep and looking so peaceful I didn’t wanna wake you. ‘M sorry, honey”. His thumb was rubbing circles on your cheek now as he looked down at you, regret written all over his face. 

Softening, you reached up to press a kiss on the corner of his mouth. And another on the other side. And another, until you were just ghosting your mouth all over his face and jaw, giggling when his lips twitched into a smile. “There’s my girl” he whispered into the kisses, making you beam as your kisses got more feverish, more urgent. All the need from the past few weeks came rushing back, making you dizzy with desperation as you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and tugged, moaning softly at the hitch in his breath. 

Suddenly, your wrists were caught by one of his hands and he was stepping back. “Then again, honey, found it really fuckin’ difficult not to notice you at that party when you were teasin’ me all evenin’. Did ya enjoy putting on a show for our neighbors, hm?” his thumb trailed your jaw, fingers curling under your chin as you nodded. “That’s not something good girls do, is it now?” And then he was ducking his head, sucking bruises into your neck and soothing them with his tongue. He chuckled at the whimper that escaped you, his hand coming down to swat your ass. “Answer me, sweet thing. Do good girls go around begging for attention when they know daddy’s gonna take care ‘f them?” the rasp of his voice cut through the haze building in your head as you gasped when he nibbled your ear.

“N-no daddy. Plea-please take care of me,” you whined, trying to pull your hands from his unrelenting grasp as you felt him swat your ass again. He just gripped them harder, nipping at your neck before he pulled away completely, chuckling at your alarmed whimper. 

“Relax, sweetheart. Course ‘m gonna take care of you. But I gotta punish you, too, remember? Didn’t think I forgot John and his adorable dog so quick, did ya?” His smirk became animalistic as he nudged you to the bed, pawing at your clothes to guide you to take them off. 

“Wouldn’t know how it works at your age, old man. Thought your memory mighta started to go by now,” you coo up at him, eager to see him undone. His answering snarl prompted your smirk to widen before he looked down at you with a tight set to his jaw. 

“Got such a mouth on you, babygirl. ‘S okay, I’ll take care ‘f it,” was all the warning you got before his hands were everywhere, groping and grabbing at you while his mouth resumed its assault on your neck. His bites got harsher, making you yelp, and he grinned against your skin before lapping at the near-broken skin before trailing his lips downwards. 

He pinched your nipples harshly, rolling them between his thumb and forefingers before ducking down to catch one between his teeth and tug cruelly, making you release high-pitched moans as your back arched into him. Switching sides, he starts flicking the other one and smoothing over it when you whimper before trailing hot open-mouthed kisses into your sternum and moving down your body to settle with his head between your legs. Turning to the side, he started nipping the inside of your thighs; rolling the flesh between his teeth and sucking at it till they were matted blue and purple. Leaning back to admire his handiwork, he brought his mouth down to press kisses just above your mound, moving back to your thighs before you huffed and bucked your hips. His eyes glinting dangerously, he smiled up at you before tilting his head. “Need somethin’, baby?” his voice was laced with amusement as he drawled the question up at you, watching you buck under him. 

At the stubborn shake of your head, he laughed before dragging a thumb down your folds, holding it up for you to see the slick coating it. "Y'sure, pretty?" you could hear the cockiness creeping into his voice and it just made you needier, whining down at him to do anything. His mouth ghosted over your clit, stubble scratching right there before he moved down to your thigh again, making you wind a hand into his hair and pull, albeit harshly. Tutting, he pushed up onto his elbows. "Wasn't very nice, now was that?” his lips quirked to the side at the sight of your frustration before you stuttered out a pathetic "t-touch me, please", at which he laughed again. 

“Needy little thing. Let’s fix that attitude, hm?” and he pushed off entirely, stalking to the closet and pulling out a tie. Looming over you, he weaved the strip of fabric between your headboard and secured your wrists to it. “Too tight?” he checked, looking down at you to sense any discomfort. When you pulled experimentally to check and showed him it was alright, he went back to his earlier position. Blowing a breath over your cunt, he relished in your squirming before grazing your clit with his teeth and pressing down softly before lapping at it. Pressing kisses against you, he slid a finger inside you and began pumping it at an agonizingly slow pace. Feeling your orgasm approach embarassingly fast, you opened your mouth to warn him, but just as you began clenching against his finger, he pulled away to pull the hood of your clit back and blow on it again, making you keen. 

Smiling, he inserted three fingers into you roughly before using his teeth on your clit again, your sensitivity making you mewl and rock your hips away, but his other hand attached itself to your hip to pin you to the mattress before his fingers began fucking into you in earnest. Pulsating in his mouth, you felt yourself about to clamp down again before he pulled out and away once more. Whining and kicking your legs out in aggravation, you frowned down at him and watched him smirk at your tantrum. 

This time, he kept his head up to maintain eye contact with you while he ground his palm against your clit and squeezed three fingers into you again. Bringing you to the edge once more, he answered your devastated whimper at the denial by slapping your clit in rapid succession, each hit harder than the last and making your thighs twitch. 

He continued for what felt like hours. The sun went down, and with it the lingering scraps of your pride and expectation to come. He edged you until you were a mumbling mess, babbling broken pleas down at him; till your clit was painfully red and swollen and your slick was running down your thighs. Tears were flowing down your face as you bucked your hips in search for his fingers, but his merciless chuckle taunted you again as you sobbed. “P-please, please, ple-please, gonna be g-good, please…” Your voice broke with every word you wailed, and he contemplated for a second before nodding and entering you in a single thrust. 

You could feel the tip of his cock kissing your womb, overwhelming you to the point of pain. A wince marked your features, making him pause and strum your clit  before starting to fuck into you at a brutal pace. You were yanking against your restraints now, eyes rolling back into your head every time he entered into you - hitting the spot that made your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably. 

Your babbles were reduced to mono-syllabic moans, rendering you unable to warn him of the release you felt coiling in you. When you started clenching against him, he just doubled down the force of his thrusts and the movements against your clit, delighting in the way you twitched at the oversensitivity as he drew out your orgasm. “D-daddy, nnh-D-Da-Daddy” was all you could get out as the oversensitivity consumed you, making you go limp as his pace didn’t falter. 

He gripped your chin and leaned forward to spit into your open mouth, eyeing the drool dribble down your chin as your jaw hung slack. “What is it pretty girl? Use your words.” Another thrust. You opened your mouth to answer him, to beg him to slow down, but all that came out was a pathetically shrill “ca-can’t” as he rolled his hips into yours halfway through your word, making you choke. “Eager enough to whore herself out in public, but when she gets what she needs she can’t? Too bad, pretty girl, you’re gonna get it now.” He stopped for a glorious second, reaching down to rest his forehead on yours before planting kisses on your face and forehead to give you a second to breathe. Glancing up at your straining wrists, he pulled at the knot of his tie to free them, then resumed his previous speed. 

Raking your fingers down his back, your eyes fluttered shut at the continued drive of him impaling you on his cock, meeting his mouth in sloppy kisses as his fingers came down to flick over your clit again. “Again.” His command sent a jolt through you, pulling you taut as every cell in your body pushed itself to overdrive to obey and every sensation seemed to multiply tenfold. Joel was everywhere, consuming your entire being, and you felt your joints lock up as your hips arched off the bed before you were cumming devastatingly hard, soaking him with the force of your release. His fingers kept abusing your clit, your whole body jerking with the force of the hypersensitivity. He pressed in impossibly deeper, sobs hiccuping from you and weak hands pushing at his chest. He pressed into you languidly, in slow, deep strokes that left you ruined before gasping in your ear and cumming deep inside you. 

Going limp on top of you, he pressed his face into your neck and lay on you as you both caught your breath - ruining the peaceful moment by looking up at you with a boyish grin and a twinkle in his eye, glancing down at your joined forms and snickering like a child finding much-coveted candy. At the furrow in your brow, he elaborated - “Who knew all it took was a little edgin’ to make you squirt, huh?” And judging by the tone of his voice, you knew it wouldn’t be long before he was going to test that theory. And he did - twenty minutes later. And again. Over and over, until your cunt was convulsing and throbbing with oversensitivity - only then did he pull away, gathering you in his arms and holding you to him before suggesting softly, “Sarah wanted to stay over for the rest of the weekend. Let’s pick her up on Sunday, and how about you and me take some time to ourselves, hm?” You nod into his chest, voice too hoarse to reply, and hum in contentment as he starts stroking your hair. You needed to act out more often. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @breakfastatjoels

[minminyoonjii]

Hii,how are you ?? I hope you're good :)

Can I ask you to make a part2 of "When you have to share your daddies/Masters ” ot8?? Like their reactions to yn running from home and etc

Take your time,you don't need to write it rn,please take care of yourself bcs its more important and don't overwork yourself too hard ♡♡

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

P1: Rainy Days|P2: Burn|P3: Losing You

🕯Summary: Cause losing me is better than you. Making a decision is hard, and it gets worse when it's on love. But what's the point when the decision is made?

🌹CW

Mental Spiralling|Assumed Suicide|Regret|Decisions Made For A Collective|Toxic Dependency|Fear Of Attachment|Self Reflection|Projecting Of Emotions|False Sense Of Falling Out Of Love|Heartbreak Between Lovers|Lack Of Self Emotion

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.7K

Felix gulped, eyes glued to the door, "Did she?" he whispered, biting on the tip of his tongue. Jeongin gave out a weak chuckle, "She'll come back, right?" he asked, looking at his lovers. Seungmin grumbled, "Of course. She has to," he said, blatantly. A frown etched on Jeongin's lips, "Hyung, I'm scared," he whimpered, leaning into Seungmin's open arms. He sighed, "She'll come back to us, Innie. She doesn't have anywhere else to run to," he said, rubbing Jeongin's back. 

Changbin scoffed, "Stop being hung up on her, she made her choice," he said, mind still clouded by anger. "A choice you forced upon her," Felix mumbled, looking away. Changbin pressed his tongue against his inner cheek, "If she didn't make it such a big problem, none of this would've happened," he retorted, towering over Felix. "It was a big problem for a reason, hyung! What happened to you?" Felix asked, hurt displayed on his features. 

Changbin rubbed the bridge of his nose, "We fell out, Yongbok-ah. We fell out of love," he said, breaking the tension. Jeongin's eyes widened at Changbin's confession, "What? Wasn't she the one we dreamed of?" he asked, feeling his entire relationship cave into his heart. "No," Changbin said, curtly. Anger boiled under Felix's skin, "Then, why? Why the false hope? I thought this was our end game," he said, teeth chattering from the overwhelming feeling of pain washing over him.

"You're too young to understand," Changbin said, making a slip of the tongue at the sight of Felix snap. Felix squinted his eyes at him, "Don't pull the age card, hyung," he growled, linking hands with Jisung and Jeongin. Changbin gulped, "Well, I-." he stuttered, eyes darting between Felix and Chan. "Felix, please," he pleaded, hands trembling. Felix hung his head low, "I can't, hyung. I can't" he said, dragging both Jisung and Jeongin with him out the door.

Changbin looked at Chan, "Hyung did we make the right choices?" he asked, tears brimming his eyes. Chan shook his head, "We were wrong from the start," he said, rubbing his face. "We're sorry for taking more than we can chew," he added, looking at the girl who got entwined with their mess in the first place. She gulped, "It was wrong of you to use me like this, I thought... I don't know what I thought," she whispered, packing her things before calling herself a taxi. 

"I hope you don't hurt others like you did to me and her," she said, knowing it was partially her fault. Hyunjin frowned, "I still don't see what the issue was," he said, genuinely not connecting the clues. "Are you kidding?" Seungmin questioned, giving his lover a side glance. Hyunjin lifted his hands, "I mean, there's nothing wrong with falling out of love. Sure, cutting her off by being cold was a dick move but-," he rambled, moving his hands to express himself. 

"But nothing," Chan said, making Hyunjin shrink back. Seungmin sighed, slapping his cheeks, "Fuck, we got too greedy," he admitted, laughing dryly. A familiar ringtone rang within the room. "Is that hers?" Hyunjin asked, pointing to the vibrating phone. Changbin furrowed his eyebrows, "She went out in this weather without her phone?" he questioned, worrying crawling up his limbs. Chan's breath hitched, "I have to find her," he whispered, about to leave the room. 

Changbin held his shoulders, "We, hyung. We have to find her," he said, following after Chan. Minho sighed, cracking the jolts in his neck, "I'll stay back to look after the kids, they got hurt in our decision too," he said, leaving the room to find the rest. Seungmin hummed, "Okay, I'll call her friends vaguely. Just in case," he said, grabbing his phone. Hyunjin nodded, running after his older lovers, "Fuck, she better be safe," he cursed, getting into the car.

He sighed, leaning to the seat, "Hyung does your chest feel numb?" Hyunjin asked, looking at Changbin. "Yeah," he replied, closing his eyes, bearing the dull pain spreading through his torso. "We lost someone we shouldn't have," Chan said under his breath, eyes glued to the road. Hyunjin frowned, "Do you think she'll ever take us back?" he asked, bringing his arms around himself in a tight hold. Changbin sighed, "I highly doubt it," he said, staring out of the window.

Hyunjin grumbled, "Why did we even bring in a new person?" he whispered, tucking his face between his knees. Chan smiled weakly, "Love felt comfortable and we got scared of that," he said, knowing fully well where they went wrong. "It's pouring hard and I don't think she took an umbrella with her," Changbin whispered, looking at the storming clouds. Hyunjin pursed his lips, "Hyung, did we fall out of love or were we convincing ourselves that we did?" he asked, looking at Chan through the middle mirror.

"That's a question I'm afraid to acknowledge, Hyunjinnie," he said, staring ahead. Hyunjin frowned, "I don't know how to forgive myself after today," he whispered, tightening his hold around himself. "Am I a bad person, hyung?" he added, voice cracking as he spoke. Chan gulped, "Listen, good or bad. If you're feeling remorse, that shows you have empathy," he said, stopping at a red light. "What if the worst happened to her?" Changbin mumbled, thoughts spiralling. 

Chan shook his head, "We're not going to take that into account," he said, hoping it would ease Changbin's worry. "The expressions, Yongbok-ah, Jeonginnie and Hannie showed us tore my heart apart, hyung," Changbin whimpered, gripping his chest. Chan tilted his head back, blinking his tears away, "I know, Bin-ah. I know," he whispered, gripping the steering wheel tight. Hyunjin perked his head up, "It's her favourite convenience store, do you think she could be there?" he asked.

Chan shrugged, pulling up to the brightly flashing neon board, "We could check," he said, turning off his car before entering. "Excuse me? Did a girl with a plush happen to enter here recently?" he asked, looking at the worker. "Not that I can recall. Would you like to have a look at the cameras?" the workers suggested, looking at their worried expressions. Chan nodded, "Thank you so much," he said, about to follow the worker behind when Changbin shouted from outside. 

"Hyung, we found something!" he yelled, holding something brown in his palm. "No," Chan whispered, looking at your plush drenched in mud. Hyunjin gulped, "She's gone isn't she?" he whispered. thoughts racing in tandem with his quickened heartbeat. Changbin frowned, noticing the bridge behind them when he squinted through the rain, "No, no! She, no! " he exclaimed looking away from when he noticed. Chan panicked, "What? What is it?" he asked, holding Changbin's shoulders. 

"The bridge," he whispered, pointing behind him. Hyunjin giggled, "She's alive. She has to be. Her plush just slipped, she's not dead," he said, pushing his hair away from his face. The silence between his older lovers made his heart drop, "Hyung, she's not dead, right? She wouldn't take her own life like this! She hates the cold, she would never, right?" he yelled, choking on a sob. Chan's hands shook, "Right, right. We're making it seem like the worst. Her plush probably dropped and she didn't realize it," he said, hoping to rationalize.

Changbin looked down at your plush, "It's her favourite plush, hyung. She had it longer than she's known us. How?" he asked, feeling his throat tighten up. Chan clenched his palms, "I don't know! I don't know," he cried, covering his mouth.

Felix sniffled, calling his sister, "Via, has bunny contacted you recently?" he asked, gripping his phone hard. Olivia tilted her head, "Not recently. Why? Is something wrong?" she asked, hearing the faint sniffles on the other end. Felix gulped, "Could you check up with Hannah or Rachel if she's with them?" he asked, hoping his sister would get something that could ease his aching heart. Olivia furrowed her eyebrows, "Weird request but I don't see why not. You better explain yourself after though, oppa," she said, a worried smile etched on her lips.

"I will, I will. Thank you," he said, hanging the phone up. Jisung held Felix close, "She'll be alright, Lix," he mumbled, kissing Felix's temple. "How about we look for a gift box with all her favourite things?" Minho proposed, hoping to distract his younger lovers from the current distress. Jeongin huffed his cheeks, "Will she accept it?" he mumbled. "Well, if we hand it to Olivia and ask her to hand it over, she just might," Minho reassured, ruffling Jeongin's hair. 

A buzz echoed within the silent room, 'She's having a girl's night with Hannah but for some reason, she told me not to tell anyone. So you better not leak this, even to your lovers, Lee Yongbok,' Olivia texted. Felix smiled, sending heart stickers back to his sister, "She's safe," he said, feeling relieved. Jeongin's eyes widened, "Really, hyung?" he asked, looking at Felix. "Yeah, she's alright. For her location though, I don't know," he lied, displaying a frown on his lips.

The front door swung open, "We found this," Changbin croaked, lifting the plush. Seungmin ran down the stairs, "Where was it?" he asked, looking at them. A shiver ran down Chan's spine, "In front of the convenience store, before the bridge," he said, hands still shaking. Hyunjin gulped, "We lost here, I don't think she jumped but, fuck, I-I can't help but imagine," he stuttered, walking into the house. Felix hesitated to tell them the truth, "She's alright. I asked around and she's fine. However, I don't know where she is." he admitted, taking a deep sigh. 

Hyunjin dropped to his knees, "Oh, thank god," he breathed out. Changbin gulped, "I want to find her now, knowing she's alright," he whispered, biting his bottom lip. Chan shook his head, "Let's give her some time," he said, pulling a chair out at the dining table. "Hyung's right, plus it's already late," Felix agreed, stretching his tense body. Minho hummed, "Come on boys, clean up and go to bed," he said, shooing them up the stairs. "Hyung that includes you," he added looking at Chan.

"I know, Min. I just need to piece myself together alone for a bit," he whispered, holding his head. Minho frowned, "Alright hyung, just remember that we'll be right here. One door away, okay?" he reassured, kissing Chan's kiss. "Thanks, Min," Chan whispered, looking at Minho with his tired eyes. Minho chuckled, "Yeah, yeah. Don't push yourself too hard, hyung. Not everything was your fault," he said, turning off the lights behind him. Chan sighed, "I'm so sorry," he said, whispering into the empty room. "Love shows itself through people in many ways, and in certain cases, the love you hold for yourself is the strongest." "Love is also horrific, however by fearing love you're not only hurting yourself but those around you."

That's the 'Moral Of The Story'

[lady-lostmind]

4:30am

for Stobin Month prompt: Modern

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 791 | Rating: T

ao3 link

Steve cracks his eyes open with a groan. It’s still dark. Which means there’s no good reason that his phone should be buzzing over and over on his bedside table at– 

He grabs his phone and squints at the bright screen, huffing in annoyance. Four-thirty in the morning. He swipes down and taps his unread messages. Robin. Of course. 

Robs (4:26am): Steve. Please be awake. Robs (4:26am): Steve. Robs (4:26am): Steeeeeevvvvveee. Come on. Missed Call: Robs (4:27am) Robs (4:28am): STEVEN!  Missed Call: Robs (4:29am) Robs (4:30am): How are you sleeping through this? 

Steve rubs his eyes and sighs, glancing to the other side of the bed where Eddie is still passed out, snoring lightly, his hair a tangled mess around his face where it’s squished against the pillow. 

Steve (4:33am): Robin. It is 4:30 in the morning. You better be fucking dying or dead. Steve (4:33am): And if you’re not, you will be. Because I’m going to kill you. Robs (4:34am): First of all, rude. What if I was dying? How would you feel then? What if the last thing you ever said to me was you’re going to kill me? You’d be suspect number one. I wouldn’t even feel bad about haunting you for that shit. Robs (4:35am): Secondly, call me.

Steve rolls his eyes, sinking further into his bed. 

Steve (4:35am): Are you drunk right now?  Steve (4:36am): I’m not calling you. I’m in bed. Eddie is sleeping. Robs (4:37am): No! I’m not drunk! Robs (4:37am): Okay… Robs (4:37am): Maybe a little. Robs (4:37am): But I have BIG NEWS!  Robs (4:38am): Also fuck Munson. I’ll wake him up right now. Steve grins down at his phone shaking his head. Steve (4:38am): So you finally kissed Chrissy, then? 

Eddie’s phone starts vibrating on his nightstand and he shoots awake, flailing to grab it, hair wild and flying around him, as he squints to see who it is. He grumbles, mumbling incoherently under his breath before sliding his thumb to answer. 

“Buckley. What the fuck do you want?” Eddie flops back down, scooching over so he can wrap around Steve. 

Steve rolls his eyes, grabbing Eddie’s phone and pressing the speaker button. “ –Steve wouldn’t call me because you were sleeping.” 

Eddie groans. “I hate you.” 

Steve cuts in before Robin gets off on a ramble about that. “Did you kiss Chrissy? You went out with her tonight, right?” 

Robin giggles. “Oh! Okay, so we went to dinner, and it was great. We were laughing the whole time, and she kept reaching across the table to touch my hand, and when we finished neither of us wanted to just go home, right? So she asked if I wanted to go dancing. And of course I said yes even though I knew I’d be a disaster because honestly how am I supposed to say no to anything that woman wants, you know?” 

Eddie lets out a little scream, muffled by his pillow that Robin fully ignores.

“So, we went to the bar and we danced and it was amazing and at the end of the night I asked if she wanted to come over and…yeah. We kissed. We definitely kissed.”

Steve grins. “So you got some boobie action then.”

Robin snorts. “Stop calling them boobies, dingus.”

Eddie groans, flopping his arm out and smacking Steve in the face. “Don’t talk about my best friend’s boobs.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, pushing Eddie’s hand off his face. “I’m just happy for them, jeez. Took you guys long enough to– Wait. You said you invited her to your place. Is she still there?” 

Robin giggles. “She’s sleeping. I couldn’t fall asleep. I’m too excited.” 

“Robin! Get off the phone! What is wrong with you?!” 

Eddie laughs, tilting his head to look at Steve. “You don’t want to open that can of worms right now. We’ll never get to sleep.” 

Steve shakes his head trying to stop his own laugh from escaping.

Robin gasps. “Rude. I am a del–”

Steve’s brow creases as he hears Robin shuffling around and then faint voices in the background. 

“Robin? Are you coming back to bed?” 

“Yeah! Sorry I just–”

Chrissy giggles and there’s more shuffling noises before her voice comes through at full volume. “Goodnight, Steve!” 

Steve chuckles as the call cuts off and he tosses Eddie’s phone back on his side of the bed. 

Eddie tugs him closer, shoving his face into Steve’s side with a huff. “Fucking finally. Your best friend is annoying.” 

Steve shakes his head. “Yeah, well, you know Chrissy is going to call you first thing tomorrow.”

Eddie groans, pulling a pillow over his head. 

Stobin month prompt list by @lavenderstobins

[hiagainyou]

I want a shy boy

{ ღ cw: dom reader/sub character, feminization and corruption kink if you squint }

{ ღ mdni banner template by the lovely @/omiyours }

Maybe it's the nervousness ya know? The innocence that makes my corruption kink go into full throttle.

It's the progression, the buildup, that always gets me.

The flustering from small compliments, that nervous finger fidget or scratch at the nape of his neck and a cute little smile, or how he tries to hide a smile when you hold hands for the first time in public like he isn't nervous to show you off anymore.

Going from linking pinkies to kissing in public? Like it's cute, trying to steal one when no one's looking or nudging me into a little hideaway just so he can kiss me deeper

I'd have to tease him over it, it's the law actually. How he looks at me with those eyes, all soft and lovey and begging for my lips to press up against his but I act none the wiser. Don't give him what he wants until he asks, no matter how many times he tugs at my clothes or pouts.

"Please?"

"Please what? I can't read your mind honey~"

The little huff of frustration when he sees the glint in my eye.

It's adorable, he's adorable.

Even cuter when I start to sink my teeth into him, leave not so innocent touches that make him twitch or kiss up his neck nice and slowly just to whisper all that filth into his ear.

"You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you?"

And

"You're all mine, aren't you princess?"

Feeling his grip on my hips tighten, how he nods dumbly wen I asks if he wants me, if he needs me, whimpers when I kiss him and whines when I pull away.

He's just so cute, the cutest little baby💕

How he gets bolder in public, tugs me into a bathroom all teary and says how badly he needs it and how he can't wait until we get home.

"Please baby? Please please please, just once? Let me cum once?"

Watching him bite his lip and scrunch up his face, eyes closed tight while his hips eagerly meet mine. Grinding down on him just the way he likes to pull a moan from those pretty full lips. Gettin' him so pussy drunk and dumb that he stops trying to be quiet, so caught up on chasing his high he doesn't hear the way his voice bounces off the walls in a lewd symphony. Every "don't stop", "please", and choked "baby" only making me wanna fuck him faster.

How he holds me tight when he finishes, face buried in my neck as he whimpers a thank you, give him a sweet kiss after he's done trembling and take his big hand in mine.

"Look at the mess you made, how are you gonna clean it up huh?"