#fic: capitals

[benevolenterrancy]

hi!! I think your art is *so cool* o(≧∇≦o)

do you think you could draw more moshang? either post canon or that au you did last time?? (baby mobei has my heart and all I own)

(˵ •̀ ᴗ •́ ˵ ) oh! how about return to childhood—moshang flavor?

don't question this king, shang qinghua, he knows what he's about

[rogueddie]

Steve wakes up to a beeping noise- a heart monitor. He struggles to open his eyes, turning to squint around the hospital room. Something about it feels off, though he can’t tell what.

A woman stumbles in, almost spilling her coffee. She looks familiar.

“Hey,” Steve tries, only to end up coughing. His throat is painfully dry.

“Steve!” She exclaims. She hurries over, swapping the coffee for a plastic cup of water. She carefully holds it to his mouth for him to drink. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake! I know we can’t talk here but… fuck, man, you really had us scared for a minute. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again!”

“I promise?”

“Oh! Eddie finally woke up too! Just the other week. He keeps asking about you, I should go-”

Steve is only more confused. There’s only one Eddie he knows and that Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead worrying about someone like Steve. Not unless...

“Munson?”

“Duh. Oh! Nancy! I was supposed to- you’re ok, right? I’ll just be a minute!”

“Yeah, sure.”

She throws him a thumbs up, darting out the room, calling for Nancy.

His head throbs. He’s not sure what is going on, what happened… maybe that thing in the Byers house did get him after all? Maybe this is just a dream.

"Ah, Mr Harrington," a nurse greets with a warm smile. "It's good to see you awake. I'm just going to check your vitals and all of that stuff, then we'll need to go over some questions. Does that sound alright?"

"Questions?"

"You've been asleep for a few weeks. We need to make sure that everything up there is ok." She lightly raps her knuckles on the side of her head.

Despite how light she's trying to be, Steve feels a sinking in his stomach.

"Is that possible? What- what could be wrong?"

"Nothing too serious. You're speech is clear and legible, you're conscious and cognitive." She lifts the clipboard off the end of the hospital bed. "You remember your name?"

"Yeah," he says. After a moment, he realizes; "oh! Right, sorry. Steve Harrington."

"Date of birth?"

"April 29th, 1967."

"Do you know what todays date is?"

"Um... how long have I been out? You said a few weeks, right?"

"Almost three weeks, yes."

"Three weeks, so that would make today... December 4th?"

She doesn't respond for a moment. The way she keeps her eyes on the clipboard feels too calculated.

"The year?"

"Uh... 1983?"

She only pauses for a moment, before continuing to ask simple questions about current events, how he's feeling, where he feels any pain or discomfort.

He lies when she asks if he remembers what caused him to be hospitalized. He's not sure what the story Nancy and Byers will give. He can't imagine people... involved, would want the truth out. And he's not willing to risk whatever consequences will come with that.

"I'm going to talk with your doctor," she finally says. "I'll be one minute."

"Wait! What- am I ok?"

"Your doctor will explain everything, don't worry."

Amnesia, his doctor explains.

Three years of his life, gone. They try to reassure him, say that it's still early days and he could completely regain his memory, no problem.

But they don't know. Not really. It's all 'possibly's, and 'maybe's. No guarentee. There's still a chance that he may never remember.

The woman who ran in when he woke up, sat by his bedside and holding his hand in a death grip, doesn't look anymore reassured by their optimism than he is.

"We're... close?" He asks her.

"Yeah," she says, forcing a smile. "Platonic soulmates. It's, um... Robin, by the way. Robin Buckley."

"Do we have that... Mrs Click, you sit behind me, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." She looks stunned, almost dazed. "I didn't think you remembered, or even noticed me."

"How could I not? You're hilarious!"

"What? We never-"

"Oh, uh, you're muttering. Behind me. It wasn't exactly, um... quiet."

"Oh my god," she slaps a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "You heard me talk about you!"

"Yeah, like I said; you're funny."

Luckily, someone else bursts into the room, interrupting whatever epiphany Robin is having.

"Steve!" He yells.

The guy looks like a kid, barely out of middle school. But he rushes to Steve, eyeing him up like he's Steves babysitter.

"Uh, hi?"

"Oh no," is the kids response. He turns to Robin. "How much does he remember?"

"He is right here, you know."

"I think some time in 83?" Robin replies, ignoring him.

"Before or after the whole... uh..." He glances at Steve with suspicion, then pointedly to the door.

"Jesus," Steve mutters, rubbing at the crease between his brows. "Did Nancy and Jonathan tell you, or what?"

"Tell us about... what?"

He rolls his eyes at them, pointing to the kid. "Whatever has short stack paranoid. The thing with the-" he flops one hand around, raised towards the ceiling, "the lights."

"Do you remember anything that happened after that?" The kid quickly asks. "At the hospital, and Will?"

"You mean the Byers kid? Isn't he, like... dead?"

"So you... don't remember me."

"Sorry?"

"It's fine," he lies.

Steve hates how sad the kid sounds. He glances between the two of them, both seemingly wallowing quietly about the situation.

"Which room is Munson in?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"What?" The kid frowns. "Eddie? Why?"

"Which room?"

"He's two doors down to the left," Robin answers. "Why- woah! Don't get up! You're still-"

"I'm fine," Steve gently pushes her away, ignoring both of them trying to plead for him to get back into bed.

Despite the bandages, bruises and sick look to him, Munson somehow looks better than Steve remembers him looking. The longer hair definitely suits him.

"Steve?" He frowns. He tries to sit up but, grimacing, he soon stops. "What the hell are you doing up? You're gonna freak Dustin out."

"Dustin? That the kid?" He asks, grunting as he sits on the edge of his bed.

"What do-" he pauses, expressions slowly twisting with the horror and realization. "Yeah. Yeah, man, Dustin is the kid."

"Right. So... um... we're friends now?"

Eddie winces. "We haven't exactly had time to talk about... that."

"What? It's been years!"

"It's not that simple."

"Are you saying that because it's true or because you don't-"

"Because it's true," Eddie rolls his eyes. "A lot has happened since then, Steve. You fell in love with Wheeler."

"What?" Steve can't hide his confusion. "Nancy?"

"Yes, Nancy. You made sure everyone fucking knew about that."

Steve snorts, having to grab at his side with a wince. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"So you're still easy to rile up?" He asks, smirking.

"Wh- you-" Eddie gasps. He tries to sit up again, grunting when he flops back down. "You were trying to make me jealous?!"

He's looking at Steve with disbelief, but he's also smiling.

"Are we friends now?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Stevie. We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"I don't... Steve, how bad is your amnesia?"

Steve quickly looks away, wincing. "Not... that bad? I remember that- the first time. This, um... monster shit. Falling out with Tommy. And the doctors are optimistic- they're pretty sure I'm going to remember."

"Alright... maybe it'd be better if we talk then, instead of rushing into it now."

"Jesus," Steve frowns. "I really have missed a lot. When did you get mature?"

"Hey-"

[velarisdusk]

Subjugation

Day 31: Fuck or Die | Lucien x Reader, Rhysand word count: 6.6k author's note: I LIED IT DID IT ON TIME LITERALLY FINISHED MAKING THIS POST 2 MINUTES BEFORE MIDNIGHT HAHAAA!!!!! this is loosely based on an audio i heard months back that i was OBSESSED with but has since been deleted ugh im so sad :( account deleted as well :( im very sad about it so this is my way to cope. i really hope yall enjoy this one, bc ive been looking forward to it all month. thank you all for sticking around, i loved seeing your reactions and thoughts on all of these fics!! this was my first ever kinktober so she might be a bit rough around the edges, but im really glad i did it, and im really glad it was received the way it was. much love to all of you and i hope you enjoy!!! <333 warning! given that this is literally a “fuck or die” there are strong themes of dubious consent, walking the very thin line between dubcon and noncon. ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

Darkness enveloped you, a thick blanket that pressed down, squeezing the air from your lungs. As consciousness crept in, the first sensation was pain—raw and relentless, coursing through your limbs like a wildfire. Your body ached as if it had been trampled, every muscle protesting against even the slightest movement.

You blinked against the dim light creeping in, squinting at the cold, damp stone that pressed against your back. Confusion clawed at your mind, a fog of disorientation shrouding your thoughts. Terror coursed through your veins  as you tried to lift your arms, only to find them restrained above your head, the chains biting into your wrists, cold metal pulling you down like a heavy weight.

A muffled sound escaped your throat, the thick fabric in your mouth pressing harshly against your tongue, making any scream futile. The taste of iron and fear filled your mouth, and your heart raced as reality settled in—the sheer vulnerability of your situation sank like lead in your stomach. You were exposed, chained, and completely at the mercy of whoever had brought you here. Was this it? Has she finally come to claim you for her twisted games?

Frantic breaths filled the air, and you strained to look around, the dimness revealing little more than shadows. It was then that you noticed him—a familiar figure sitting a few feet away, naked and equally bewildered. Lucien.

His eyes fluttered as he began to stir. The sight of him sent a jolt of relief through you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the dread coiling in your gut. What had happened to you both? 

His skin appeared paler than usual; the months you’d already spent under the mountain seemed to have drained the life from him. That godsforsaken fox mask still lay on his face, but the eyes underneath it seemed more sunken, and the lines of worry etched into his face spoke of sleepless nights and the weight of hopelessness that hung heavy in the air these days. 

As Lucien's gaze met yours, confusion morphed into alarm. He seemed to struggle against the haze of unconsciousness, and panic surged through his face as he took in your surroundings. “Where…?” he murmured, his voice raw and hoarse.

The gravity of your situation settled between you, heavy and suffocating. You were trapped—naked, chained, and entirely exposed in a dark, cold room. You could see the realization dawning on him, and the fear mirrored your own.

“What the hell is going on?” he croaked, panic lacing his voice as he strained against his own restraints, testing the chains that bound him.

The sound of your shackles echoed in the silence. You wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but the gag stifled your voice. Instead, you shook your head slowly, tears pooling in your eyes.

Then, without warning, a chilling voice slithered into your mind, a darkness that curled around your thoughts like smoke. “Ah, waking up already? How delightful.”

It was Rhysand. Dread pooled in your stomach, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. You and Lucien looked around frantically, your gazes darting through the shadows for any sign of him. But even in the darkness, it was clear: he wasn’t there. The world around you twisted, and the horrifying reality of your situation settled in like a heavy weight. You would die in this room. 

“Consider this a bit of recompense,” he purred, voice laced with amusement, “for Lucien’s heroic outburst on Feyre’s behalf. But I’m feeling generous, Lucien… I could have chosen anyone for this, yet I thought of your dear, sweet friend—consider this a gift from me, really. All he has to do is indulge his more… primal urges. Simple enough, wouldn’t you say?”

He paused, letting his words hang in the air like a blade. You and Lucien exchanged a glance, the gravity of the situation dawning on both of you. Your heart raced, panic and dread swirling in your chest like a storm. Lucien’s eyes were wide and pleading, but his body remained tense, muscles coiled as if ready to spring into action despites the restraints binding him.

“But let’s not pretend you don’t understand the stakes here. You see, my dear, in this world, power is everything. Those who wield it have the privilege of making the rules. And I, well, I have quite the extensive collection of rules. Your friend Lucien is merely a pawn in this little game, and you? You are the prize. Such a sweet, tempting prize, chained and vulnerable before him.

“Do you feel it?” he continued, a dark thrill evident in his tone. “The dread curling in your stomach, the fear flooding your veins? That’s the gift of knowledge, darling. Knowing that your fate lies in the hands of someone who enjoys watching you squirm. You were so certain you could resist, that you could outsmart those of us holding all the power beneath this mountain. But look where that has brought you—naked, exposed, and utterly at my mercy.

“Lucien, dear Lucien,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You think your defiance gives you strength? How quaint. You may feel brave now, but courage can crumble in an instant when faced with true power. You’re in a game far beyond your understanding, and right now I hold all the cards. The choice you face isn’t just about survival—it’s about how low you’re willing to stoop to escape this fate.”

You could feel the panic radiating from Lucien as he continued to struggle against his restraints, the chains rattling with each futile attempt. The atmosphere shifted, a tension coiling tighter as if the air itself were charged with impending doom.

“And now, let’s have a private chat, shall we, Lucien?” Rhysand’s tone shifted, smooth and menacing. You watched as Lucien’s eyes widened, the fear creeping across his features, and your heart sank.

“Get out of my head!” Lucien shouted, his voice raw with defiance. It echoed off the cold stone walls. 

“Oh, but we both know that’s not how this works,” Rhysand purred, his voice curling around Lucien’s mind like a serpent. You could still hear him—Rhysand wanted you to hear him. “I want you to understand the gravity of your situation, Lucien. You have a choice to make—one that will determine not only your fate but that of your precious friend as well.”

Lucien’s fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he glared defiantly. “You think I’ll let you do this? You’re a monster, I won’t—”

“Spare me your bravado,” Rhysand interrupted, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re in no position to make threats. You see, either you take her, or I will end both of your lives right here. Think of it as a favor. If you truly care for her, this is your chance to save her. I can see the way you look at her—how long have you wanted her?”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said tersely, attempting to mask the turmoil roiling within him. 

Rhysand’s laughter echoed through both of your heads, smooth yet laced with venom. “Oh, we both know that isn’t true, Lucien. Maybe Amarantha hasn’t seen it, but I certainly have—the longing, the desire you think you’ve hidden so well. It’s pathetic, really. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s noticed and has said nothing because you’re simply not worth her attention.”

You tried to shake your head, tried to let Lucien know that you heard the exchange and what he’d said about you wasn’t true in the slightest. But your head wouldn’t move. It was then that you felt the claws scraping against your mind, holding you in place. 

Lucien’s face shifted from anger to horror, and you could see the internal struggle etched across his features. You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but Rhysand and the chains held you captive, the gag stifling any sound of support.

“You’re sick, Rhysand!” Lucien’s voice trembled, a mix of anger and desperation. “This isn’t power. You don’t hold any power here! Amarantha loosens her hold on your leash for two minutes and you decide to play these twisted fucking games. You’re the one warming her bed, doing her bidding, yet you call me the pawn?” He shook his head, disbelief etched across his features. “You have no real control, Rhysand, you’re a puppet.”

“Oh, Lucien,” Rhysand began, his voice smooth as silk but laced with venom. “You talk a big game, but what good is your bravery when it leads you to this? You call me a puppet, yet here you are, bound and powerless. Look around you—this isn’t a game of chess where you can play the noble knight. You are the pawn, desperately clinging to the hope that your defiance means something. It doesn’t. It never has.

“I’ve delayed long enough,” he said, his tone shifting to something colder, more calculated. “Let me make this perfectly clear to both of you: Lucien, you will fuck her. If you refuse, I will delight in watching you both die slow, agonizing deaths—your minds crushed bit by bit until there’s nothing left but despair. Your little friendship will unravel in a cacophony of screams, and I will ensure you understand the price of defiance.”

With those words, a chilling silence enveloped the room, filled only by the sound of yours and Lucien’s ragged breathing. You could see the conflict raging in his eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like a vice.

With a sudden clatter, Lucien’s shackles released their grip, the cold metal falling away from his wrists and legs. Without a moment’s hesitation, he bolted to your side, kneeling beside you on the unforgiving stone floor. His presence felt like a warm beacon in the oppressive darkness, and you instinctively leaned into him, desperate for any comfort.

He gently brushed your hair away from your face, his touch feather-light yet grounding. “Are you okay?” His voice was low and urgent, eyes scanning your face as if searching for signs of damage that could never be fixed. He wiped the tears streaming down your cheeks with his thumbs, the tenderness of the gesture contrasting with the hopelessness in your chest. You wanted to scream, to protest, but the terror of what Rhysand would do if you didn’t comply loomed large in your mind.

Lucien’s gaze softened as he took a deep breath, determination flickering in his eyes. He reached around to your mouth, fingers brushing against the gag that stifled your voice. Just as he grasped the fabric, his body went rigid, and he doubled over in pain, a choked gasp escaping his lips.

“I wouldn’t,” Rhysand’s voice echoed in his mind, cold and merciless. “If you remove that gag, I’ll kill you on the spot, and she’ll be much worse off than she is now.” The threat hung in the air like a noose, tightening around Lucien’s resolve.

You watched helplessly as Lucien’s expression twisted from concern to agony, the weight of Rhysand's grip on his mind pressing down like a heavy hand. The moment felt suspended in time, your hearts racing in unison as fear clawed at both of you.

Once the pain subsided, he searched your gaze, the anguish etched on his face evident as he spoke. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to. I’ll—I’ll figure something out.” His resolve was palpable, a fierce determination to protect you despite the impossible situation. 

Tears continued to spill down your cheeks, but you nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat. Lucien was your friend, and as much as the fear clawed at your insides, you knew he would be gentle. If this was the only way for you both to escape this cruel nightmare, then so be it. You would endure, not just for yourself but for him, too.

His breath shuddered, both with relief and hesitation, and he leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I’ll make it as easy as I can,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. You wouldn’t be alone in this.

Lucien moved to position himself in front of you, averting his gaze as he spat on his hand, giving himself a few quick pumps. Despite the dire situation, his body responded quickly, hardening at the sight of you. He looked at you with a mixture of apology and determination. “I need you to spread your legs,” he asked gently, his voice soft and careful.

You complied, legs parting with a trembling reluctance. Lucien took a deep breath, aligning himself with your entrance. He pushed in slowly, the movement as gentle as his grip on your waist. Every inch felt like a battle against the situation you were in, but he made sure to look into your eyes, his expression full of concern and care.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, pausing to let you adjust. You nodded, focusing on his face—the only anchor you had in this horror. As you gazed into his eyes, you could see the conflict warring within him. His brows were furrowed in concentration, and his lips pressed into a thin line, trying to hold back any sign of pleasure. But there it was, faint and undeniable.

He rocked his hips against yours cautiously, checking on you every few moments, his hands trembling slightly as they caressed your sides. “We just have to get through this,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. “We’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.”

Lucien moved with an agonizing slowness, ensuring that every moment was as painless as possible for you. His eyes never left yours, and you could see the torment in them, the guilt and helplessness he felt at having to do this. 

Without warning, he began thrusting into you harshly, his movements losing their previous tenderness. Confusion and a jolt of pain surged through your body as he pounded with a force that left you gasping. 

A dark, chilling voice echoed through you, but this time, it was Lucien’s. “Too gentle for my liking,” he purred, dripping with what could only be described as malicious delight. “I prefer things a bit rougher. Don’t you, darling?”

You realized with horror that Rhysand had seized his mind, turning him into a puppet for his sick amusement. Lucien's face twisted with anguish, his eyes pleading for forgiveness even as his body moved against his will.

“Gods, your pussy feels so fucking good,” Lucien's voice taunted, his words—not his words, you had to remind yourself—a cruel mockery. “Look at you, taking him so well. Maybe you’re enjoying this more than you care to admit?”

Tears streamed down your face as Lucien’s thrusts grew more violent, each one sending unwelcome jolts of heat through your body. You wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but the gag stifled your cries, leaving you trapped in silent agony.

“Tell her, Lucien,” Rhysand commanded through Lucien's lips, his voice dark and commanding. “Tell her how much you’re enjoying this.”

Lucien's mouth moved against his will, the words spilling out in a broken, pained voice. “You... you feel so good,” he choked out, the horror in his eyes betraying the vile words he was being forced to speak. “So tight, so perfect.”

“Such a good little slut,” Rhysand sneered through Lucien, forcing him to continue the brutal assault. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be used, to be fucked hard and rough.”

The torment in Lucien’s eyes grew, a silent apology for the nightmare he was being made to inflict upon you. But there was nothing he could do, nothing either of you could do.

Suddenly, Lucien's movements slowed and then stopped altogether. His eyes, wide with horror and filled with tears, met yours. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It wasn't me. I promise it wasn't me.”

You nodded, your eyes brimming with understanding and hurt. You knew he was being controlled, that he was as much a victim as you were.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, tears streaming down his face as he began to move again, Rhysand’s control forcing his hips to continue. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

Every thrust was accompanied by another desperate apology, Lucien’s voice cracking with the weight of his guilt. “I don’t want to hurt you. I would never want to hurt you. Please believe me.”

You could see the agony in his eyes, the helplessness as his body moved against his will. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “We’ll find a way out. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

But it continued, Rhysand’s cruel laughter echoing in your mind, a constant reminder of the power he held over both of you. Lucien’s apologies blended with the sounds of your muffled reactions through the gag, moans and whines you couldn’t contain. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lucien whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I swear, it’s not me. I’m being forced to do this.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. Each thrust was gentle now, driven by Lucien’s desperate attempts to make this as bearable as possible for you. His hands, though trembling, caressed your sides soothingly. “We’ll get through this,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “This is our way out of here. Just hold on.”

The gentle rhythm continued, Lucien’s eyes locked onto yours, filled with sorrow and determination. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “You’re not alone in this. I’m here with you. I’m so sorry.”

But his words of comfort were short-lived. With a sudden jolt, Lucien’s body stiffened, and the cruel, mocking tone of Rhysand filled the room once more.

“Enough of this pitiful display,” Rhysand sneered through Lucien’s lips. “I’m growing quite bored.” Lucien’s eyes still held a flicker of horror as his body moved with a violence that was not his own. 

“Such a beautiful thing,” Rhysand mused through Lucien. “Taking him so well, aren’t you?”

The words were a cruel mockery, each one a knife twisting in your heart. Lucien’s body responded to Rhysand’s commands, thrusting harder and faster, the pain and humiliation a relentless torrent that threatened to drown you.

“You feel so fucking good,” Lucien said, the words a twisted parody of desire. “So tight around me.”

The brutal rhythm continued, your body aching from the force of it. Rhysand’s control was absolute, Lucien’s face impassive, eyes vacant as he was made to use you. “You’re just a toy,” Rhysand purred, his voice a dark, possessive growl. “Both of you. Playthings for my amusement.”

This couldn’t be happening. You tried desperately to focus on anything but the pain and humiliation. You prayed Lucien was fighting back.

Lucien’s head tilted slightly, and Rhysand’s words, dripping with amusement, spoke through his lips. “Oh, he’s trying. But there’s no fighting me, darling. He’s mine, just as you are.”

 Your eyes widened, full of tears. Why was he doing this? What did he gain?

A laugh burst from Lucien’s lips, a cold, mirthless sound. “Power, control, and the delicious pleasure of watching you break,” he replied, thrusting Lucien’s body harder, the force causing a cry to escape your gagged mouth. “I told you, my dear. In this world, power is everything.”

He reveled in this, drawing pleasure from your suffering and Lucien’s unwilling participation. It was sickening. You couldn’t keep the tears from spilling over, had lost that battle long ago, and you wished desperately that this was just a nightmare you could wake up from. He was a monster. How could he live with himself?

Lucien’s face contorted in a cruel smile, Rhysand’s influence evident. “Quite comfortably, actually,” he said, relishing each word. “And don’t pretend you don’t enjoy this on some level. The thrill of submission, the helplessness—it’s all written across your lovely face.” 

He reached out to caress your tear-streaked face, but you turned away, trying to pull back from his touch. Your defiance only seemed to amuse him, his fingers trailing down your cheek in a mockingly gentle gesture. “Such spirit,” he murmured. “It’s almost a shame to break it.”

It felt so surreal, hearing Lucien speak to you with such harshness. These were combinations of words that would never leave his lips under normal circumstances. The assault continued, each thrust a reminder of your helplessness, of the power Rhysand wielded over both of you. “You see, my dear,” Rhysand continued, his voice dripping with satisfaction, “true power is making others bend to your will, breaking them in ways they never thought possible.”

Lucien’s eyes flickered with awareness, the harshness in his expression softening momentarily. But his movements didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. He was still fucking you roughly, his body obeying Rhysand’s commands despite his own desperate efforts to regain control. Tears blurred your vision as he tried to speak, his voice strained and choked with remorse. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, his hands gripping your waist tightly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I would never... never think to treat you this way.”

Suddenly, he halted, a look of panic washing over his face. “I can’t move,” he panted, desperation clawing at his voice. “He—I can’t move, he won’t let me pull out.” A swell of confusion now mixed with your dread. 

Then, Lucien’s eyes glazed over, and you tried to reach for him before the shackles bit into your skin. You sensed a shift in the air. “Oh, do you want to see?” Rhysand’s voice slithered into your thoughts, smooth and taunting. “I suppose I could let you in on it, I don’t see why not.”

Images flooded your mind, and your heart raced with horror as you witnessed Lucien’s desires twisted into something perverse. You saw yourself bent over a table, Lucien behind you, thrusting deep and hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in your ears. In another, you were sprawled across the floor, your moans mingling with Lucien’s gasps as he took you from above. Each vision was more frantic and vivid: you on your knees, lips parted and glistening as he slid into your mouth, his hands tangling in your hair, urging you on. There were scenes of you tied up, your body trembling as Lucien’s mouth explored every inch of you, his fingers curling inside you while you writhed in pleasure. Another vision showed you pressed against a wall, legs wrapped around his waist, your nails digging into his back as he pounded into you relentlessly. The most depraved was of you blindfolded, your hands bound much like they were now, as Lucien alternated between fucking your mouth and your cunt, the sounds of your shared ecstasy filling the air. 

But the one that drove Lucien over the edge was an image of you straddling him, moving with abandon, your breasts bouncing with each motion, the pleasure on your face unmistakable. It was a sight that made his entire body tense with desire, reacting to the carnal imagery Rhysand forced into his mind. Just as the haze of those visions lifted, your eyes met Lucien’s—clarity breaking through the chaos. In that fleeting moment of connection, he climaxed inside you, his cock pulsing, filling you with warmth as he gasped your name. 

You shuddered violently, your breath hitching in ragged gasps as the reality of what just happened sank in. More tears spilled down your cheeks, unstoppable, as agony tore through your chest. The sound of your sobs filled the air, harsh and broken. Lucien’s face twisted with anguish behind the mask, his eyes wide and wet, reflecting your pain back at you. “I��m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “I couldn’t stop it, I… I didn’t want—It wasn’t—”

His hand reached out, trembling, to wipe away your tears, but you flinched, recoiling from his touch. The sight seemed to pierce him, his face filled with a deep sense of sorrow. He continued to stammer apologies, his words tumbling over each other in a frantic plea for forgiveness. “Please. I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t control it.”

You forced yourself to nod, to show him that you understood, that you didn’t hold him responsible for the nightmare you were both trapped in. But the tears kept coming, your body shaking with each sob. Then you felt it—his cock, still buried deep inside you, starting to harden once more. The sensation was like a cruel twist of the knife, a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over you. Lucien’s breath stilled, his face contorting with the effort to suppress the groans that threatened to escape. Each twitch, each pulse, echoed the relentless torment you were both enduring. His eyes squeezed shut, a desperate attempt to block out the reality, but every time he tried, Rhysand flooded his mind with more depraved images, leaving no escape from the cruel grip he held over both of you. 

Lucien took a deep, shuddering breath, his demeanor calmer, more composed. You felt a flicker of hope as he looked at you, his eyes softer. “No… That’s it,” he said, his voice steady. “We’ve done what he wanted. We can leave now.” He glanced to the side, his brow furrowing. You followed his gaze, but there was nothing there, only the cold emptiness of the room. When he looked back at you, his expression had shifted, a shadow of confusion in his eyes. “He just... Rhysand just told me... we need to do it again.”

Your stomach dropped, a pulse of dread that sent your heart racing. No… No! This wasn’t what you agreed to! You shook your head fervently, desperation clawing at your throat. The gag stifled your cries, leaving you to struggle against the rising tide of fear as you locked eyes with Lucien, your gaze flickering between the golden and russet one. The hope that flickered moments ago now felt like a cruel joke. This wasn’t… You were both supposed to be free…

Lucien’s face twisted with helpless resignation. “He never specified how many times… or for how long. I’m sorry… We have to,” he said, a tremor in his voice. Before you could react, he grabbed your legs and threw them both over his shoulder, holding them tightly to his chest as he began to thrust into you again.

The new position was jarring, the sudden change leaving you disoriented. His movements were slower than before, but deeper and harder, every thrust sending an involuntary warmth curling low in your stomach. You couldn’t understand why he was doing this, why each relentless push ignited sparks that shouldn’t have been there, mingling with the knot of dread that twisted tighter inside you. 

“Just relax,” he murmured, his tone almost soothing if it weren’t for his bruising grip on your legs. “Just let yourself relax, let yourself feel it. You’re doing so well.” His hand trailed down your side. “I knew you’d be this perfect.”

With each helpless moan that slipped from your lips, he groaned, a dark gleam sparkling in his eye. “Oh, fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust as he thrust into you. “You know, I… I always knew you’d be tight, but gods, I never imagined like this.”

Each thrust drove him deeper, his cock filling you completely, hitting places inside you that sent shocks of pleasure and pain through your body. It wasn’t how you had ever imagined Lucien to be in bed, but the way he spoke, the raw need in his voice, it was turning you on despite yourself. His thrusts were relentless, each one sending waves of sensation that blurred pleasure and pain. The scent of your arousal only seemed to spur him on, driving him to quicken his pace.

He leaned down, practically folding you in half, his hands braced on either side of your head as his hot breath ghosted over your ear. With each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off the cold stone walls. “You’re squeezing me so perfectly,” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. “Fuck, I can feel every little tremor inside you. You love this, don’t you? You love how I’m filling you up.”

Your body betrayed you, a heated flush spreading across your skin, the mix of pain and pleasure muddling your thoughts. One rough hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips before he trailed down your neck, lingering at your collarbone. His fingers moved lower, tracing over your skin until he reached your breast, kneading it firmly as he thrust into you with an unyielding pace. “Look at you,” he continued, his tone a blend of mockery and genuine desire. “Look at how you’re taking me, every inch, like you were made for me.”

The words sent a conflicting wave of heat through you, your mind reeling from the unexpected arousal that mingled with your horror. He must be putting on a show for Rhysand’s twisted pleasure; surely, that was what the sick bastard wanted. Fine, if that’s what it took, you could play along. He shifted slightly, changing the angle just enough to hit a spot inside you that made your back arch involuntarily, a strangled wail of pleasure escaping your lips despite the gag.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll never forget it,” he promised, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. He straightened back up and moved his hands to your thighs, spreading them wide, pushing himself in even deeper. The shift sent a shock through your body, each movement igniting a raw, dizzying ache that left you breathless.

“Do you feel that?” he growled, his eyes darkening with desire. “You’re so fucking wet for me. It’s like your body was made for this.” You nodded, and his thrusts quickened, a relentless rhythm that sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you. Each stroke was more brutal, yet so deeply satisfying that it tugged at the edges of your resolve.

“How good is it,” he demanded, his breath ragged and heavy as he continued to take you apart. “I want to hear you. I want to hear how much you love it, how deep I am inside you.” The mixture of pleasure and pain danced in your core, and your body instinctively responded, betraying your sanity.

You could only moan in response, the gag smothering each sound into something raw and desperate, your mind too overwhelmed to form coherent thoughts. Your wrists strained against the shackles with the urge to reach up, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. 

“I can feel you tightening around me,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So close to coming all over my cock. Do it, come for me, darling.”

That twisted something deep inside you, an abysmal flicker of recognition even amidst the haze of pleasure. Your heart raced as you took a closer look at him, your mind struggling to align the image before you with the heat in his words. As your gaze locked onto his features, a wicked smirk spread across his lips.

“Surprised to see me?” he drawled, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

A wave of horror crashed over you, realization hitting like a cold slap. It was Rhysand. How long had it been him? Your pulse quickened, panic rising as all you could think about was him forcing Lucien to watch, helpless, as his own body betrayed him. And worse, it was Rhysand who has brought you to this fevered pitch, whispering words that left you trembling, stirring something you couldn’t deny. 

He ripped the gag from your mouth, and the sudden rush of air felt like freedom, but it was quickly swallowed by the screams that erupted from your throat. “Get off! Get out of his head! Let us go!” you shouted, thrashing against the bonds holding your wrists captive, but they held firm. “You’re a sick fuck, where do you get off making us do this! Huh?”

He only chuckled, an unsettling mix of amusement and something darker, his movements insistent and unwavering. “Interesting choice of words. I didn’t expect you to be so articulate, given the circumstances,” he said, a playful lilt in his voice that only fueled your anger. “If you want, I can hand him back. But I can’t guarantee he’ll be in any state to help you.”

With a casual ease, Rhysand slipped out of Lucien’s mind. Lucien, brow furrowed and eyes screwed shut, remained lost in the throes of desire, his movements relentless and unyielding.

“Lucien!” you cried, desperation thickening your voice. “Lucien! Please! You can hear me, right? You have to hear me!” But there was no flicker of recognition in his expression, no sign he paid any mind to your pleas. Panic surged within you, and your heart raced as you continued. “Lucien! Fight it, please! Please, just listen to me! Just stop for a second!”

But he was too far gone, the waves of pleasure crashing over him, drowning out everything else. “I’m not stopping,” he murmured. 

Your heart sank at the words. Shock coursed through you, a bitter ache settling in your chest. You wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but all you felt was a suffocating despair and the cold metal around your wrists. 

“I’m not gonna stop,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust and determination, each thrust punctuated by a growl. “It’s too good. I’m not gonna stop… You feel too fucking good.” The heat of his words wrapped around you, blurring the line between pleasure and pain. “So perfect… So perfect for me…”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin. “I need to—Gods, just let me have this… Gonna fucking pound you,” he grunted, the primal need in his tone sending shivers of both fear and arousal coursing through you. “Feels so good, you feel so good…” 

Your heart raced, torn between the conflicting sensations that surged through your body. You were trapped, and as Lucien continued to move inside you, it became clear he was too.

“So good, you’re so good,” he hissed through a clenched jaw. “Gonna—Fuck, gonna pump this fucking pussy. That’s right, gonna pump your pussy full of my cum.” Each repetition of his promise warped his voice; what had begun as a deep, raw rumble now took on a more taunting, delirious lilt. “I’m not gonna stop. I’m not gonna stop. I’m not gonna stop.”

“Please, Lucien, listen to me!” Your voice trembled with desperation, but it was drowned out by the feverish rhythm he maintained, each thrust echoing with an intensity that rattled your very core.

His only response was a deep, throaty growl, a mix of pleasure and something darker that made your skin crawl. “You’re so good, you know that?” he gasped, words slurring together as if he were intoxicated by the moment. “So fucking perfect… for me…” The way he said it twisted something deep inside you, a sickening blend of yearning and dread. 

A guttural laugh rumbled in his chest, and you felt the bile rise in your throat. “You feel so good… so fucking good, can’t… can’t stop… Gods, you’re so warm, so wet… so perfect, gonna fill you up…” 

“Please, Lucien!” Tears streamed down your cheeks, frustration bubbling within you as you struggled against your bonds. But each desperate plea seemed to dissolve into the air, swallowed by the insatiable hunger that consumed him. The look in his eyes was a haunting mix of pleasure and torment, and it shattered your heart all over again.

“Gods, you’re so warm, so wet… so perfect,” he repeated, his voice thick with lust, each word a reminder of how far gone he truly was. “Gonna fill you up… Can’t help it.”

His hands dug into your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh as if anchoring himself in reality. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, each exhale fanning the flames of your undeniable desire. “Come for me,” he urged. “I know you like it. Just come for me. Come for me.”

“No, I—” you started to protest, but the words fell from your lips like dead leaves in a storm. The heat coiling in your core was overwhelming, threatening to drown out your thoughts.

Then, with a sudden, calculated movement, he pressed his fingers against your clit, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body. Pleasure burst forth, raw and electric, igniting every nerve ending. Your mind screamed a protest, but your body betrayed you.

“Oh, gods…” you gasped, your resolve crumbling as the world around you faded into a blur. You came almost instantly, a tidal wave of ecstasy crashing over you, blurring the lines of desire and despair.

The moment your body clenched around him, Lucien’s breath hitched, and a primal growl erupted from his throat. “Yes, just like that…” His movements turned erratic, each thrust deeper and more frenzied, and he followed you over the edge, surrendering to the same wave of pleasure that had claimed you.

“Gonna fill you up…” he grunted, the delirium of his release washing over both of you. The heat between your bodies seemed to ignite the air, the world around you fading into a distant echo as you felt him throb inside you, pulsing with the remnants of pleasure.

As your bodies trembled together, the shock of what had just happened crashed over you like a frigid wave, pulling you from the heights of ecstasy into the depths of despair. You had surrendered in that moment, allowing the overwhelming pleasure to consume you, but the reality of your situation loomed larger than ever.

His breath came in ragged gasps, and for a fleeting instant, you saw a flicker of clarity in his eyes—a glimpse of the male you knew buried beneath the haze of lust. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same twisted hunger that had taken hold of him. You were left with the haunting knowledge that, despite the shared climax, he was still trapped in this nightmare, as were you.

“Lucien…” you whispered, your heart pounding with a mix of yearning and anguish. The connection you had felt in that moment now felt like a cruel joke. The struggle within you simmered, and you realized this was far from over when he began nibbling and suckling at your neck. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @anneas11 @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @anarchiii

@randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex @fourthwing4ever

[sashthesloth]

Made a lil meet my ocs thing for some of my beloved characters

[dewwshi]

every time i get into any ship ever i have to draw them chillin on the couch

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve tears the bat in half with his feet. Eddie stares at him in awe.

Eddie: *holding his own dead demobat and whispered to it* I totally get why you bit him. He's so cute. I'd bite him, too. I kind of wish he would split me in half.

Robin: *appearing at Eddie's side suddenly* If you tear pieces of my best friend's flesh off, I'm taking one of your nipples.

Much later in the hospital. . .

Eddie: *hisses at Robin* You did this. I didn't even bite him.

Robin: *frowns* It's purely coincidencental.

[totheidiot]

that little element of grief in lawlight has got to me. it crawled itself into my brain. i have started to work on this ghost!L au where he haunts light after he died but really, it's all just a metaphor for grief. if i had a nickel for every time etc etc etc

[starryeyedjanai]

sitting between comfort and chaos

steddie | 5.7k | rated: teen

5 times everyone thought Steve and Eddie were dating before they got together + the first time Steve tells someone after they actually get together

happy birthday @legitcookie!!! i hope you had a fantastic day!💗

read on ao3

1.

Thinking back on it all, Steve thinks he should have known something was up when Dustin started letting Eddie sit up front when he drove them places, a spot reserved only for Robin or Erica when Dustin was riding with him.

Steve has seen that kid - who's not really a kid anymore, he's in college now which is so weird to think about - elbow his friends in the neck trying to get to the car first so he could ride shotgun. So giving up the coveted spot for anyone - even Eddie - should have been a giant red flag.

Steve brings up Dustin letting Eddie sit up front to Robin and gets an eye roll for his trouble.

"What?" he asks. "It's not like it isn't weird. The kid will literally only let you or Erica sit up front and he only lets Erica do it because he's afraid of her."

"Yeah, and he let me sit up front because he thought that we were a thing or about to become a thing or whatever," Robin says, like that explains anything.

"Right," he says, not quite getting what she's getting at.

Dustin knows better now and has stopped bothering them about it, stopped asking Steve when he's going to finally ask Robin out. It only took a million years, but he thinks Dustin gets it now.

He still lets Robin sit up front out of habit - and because Steve refused to start the car the one time Dustin tried to bully his way up front with Robin after figuring out they would never be a 'thing'.

"You know he still kind of idolizes both of you and now that you're, you know-" Robin says trailing off.

Steve lost the thread a little bit, but he nods. "Sure, sure," he says.

Now that he and Eddie are friends, Dustin has stopped bugging them about about each other. Maybe Robin's right. Dustin is still just idolizing Eddie and that's why he lets him sit up front.

Steve still thinks it's weird though.

2.

The first instance Steve can remember something weird happening even before Dustin started letting Eddie sit up front was at a club in Indianapolis.

Robin's sitting in between him and Vickie in the booth, talking about her classes this semester, when she stops short.

"Rob?" Steve asks, and then waves a hand in front of her face when she doesn't respond.

She snaps out of it when he boops her nose lightly. "Uh, um. Don't look, but-"

He immediately looks in the direction she was looking in when she spaced out and tries to scope out what she saw that caught her attention so hard she stopped talking. He sees the crowd of dancing people in his line of sight, but he doesn't see anything out of place.

"I said don't look!" she snaps at him and he turns back to her.

"What? I don't see anything!" he says, feeling chagrined at her snapping at him like that. "You can't say 'don't look' and expect me not to look."

"Just- Eddie's, like, dancing on someone right now," she says, tone almost apologetic.

Steve fails to see what's so special about that. Eddie's always hooking up with someone when he and Steve come out together. He doesn't even think it's the first time Robin's seen it, so he isn't sure why she's so shocked. Vickie has a sympathetic look on her face when Steve glances at her to see if she thinks it's weird that Robin is bringing this up.

"Okay?" he says, voice lilting high at the end like a question.

"And you're okay with that?" Robin asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Uh, should I not be? He's always hooking up when we go out," he says, looking back over and yep - he's got his tongue down some guy's throat on the dance floor, the guy's hands gripping Eddie's ass to bring their hips together. Steve feels a ribbon of want float through him - it's been a while since he hooked up with someone.

"So, you've got like an arrangement where you can hook up with other people?" Robin asks, confused.

And Steve is also confused. The way she says 'arrangement' like it has connotations that he should understand. Why would he and Eddie have even talked about hooking up with anyone?

His slightly tipsy brain tries to rationalize it - maybe she's talking about when they go out just the two of them, like if Eddie hooks up with someone, Robin's assuming Steve would be all alone. He doesn't have a problem with it - he's a social butterfly when he's drunk and even if he wasn't, Eddie running off to go dance or make out or hook up with someone gives Steve time to find someone to hook up with himself. It's not like he's ever bored when he goes out with Eddie.

So he tells her, "He can literally do whatever he wants, Bobbie."

She sips her drink and stares at him, her gaze scrutinizing, and whatever she sees must appease her because she drops it and starts talking about her courses again.

When he remembers that conversation the next day, all he can think about is how bizarre Robin was acting.

3.

The next weird occurrence he can remember happening, he didn't even find out until after the fact that something was awry.

He's on vacation with most of the older crew, staying at a house near the ocean, just a small little bungalow, for the week that they're in California.

When Steve and Eddie go to drop their suitcases off in the room Nancy shuffles them towards, they pause.

There's only one bed.

He and Eddie look at each other and Eddie says, "Maybe all the rooms have one bed?"

"Yeah, yeah, probably," he says, dragging his suitcase to the far side of the room.

"We probably shouldn't say anything, right?" Eddie asks, later, before they all head out to the beach. "Like, about the room?"

Steve thinks about it. He knows Nancy is the one who got the keys to the house through her parent's friends and she got here earlier than them and scoped out the place. If there was another option to them sharing the same bed, Nancy would have told them. "Yeah, I mean. It's fine, right? You don't have a problem sleeping next to me?"

Eddie shakes his head. "Oh, of course not. I'm good sharing if you are."

"Yeah, it's no problem," Steve says. He kind of can't remember the last time he shared a bed with someone other than Robin when she stays over at his apartment sometimes.

"Okay, then we'll just. Keep it to ourselves. Besides, I feel like Nancy would skin us if we tried to complain about a place we aren't even paying for," Eddie says with a grin. The perk of Nancy's parent's friend having a vacation house is that even though it's a little small, they let them use it for free. And it's empty because they only use it when it's winter in Hawkins.

"She one hundred percent would," Steve agrees, so they drop it and don't bring it up. Too few beds isn't the end of the world.

Waking up with Eddie's arm firmly wrapped around his waist is fine, nice even. If Steve turns off the alarm that woke him, snuggling back into the embrace, making them both late for breakfast when they finally do wake up, that's no one's business but his own.

-

It's later, after they're home, that Eddie stops by and tells him about the extremely bizarre conversation he had with Nancy the last day there.

He says, "So something weird happened on vacation and I don't know what to make of it and I'm only telling you because you're the only other person it affected," as soon as Steve opens the door.

"What happened," Steve asks, instantly worried. He lets him in and Eddie starts pacing in the living room. Steve goes to sit on the couch.

"So, that last day on vacation, Nancy asked me to come sit on her suitcase because it wouldn't close with all the souvenirs she bought. I went into her and Jonathan's room and there were two beds," Eddie says, stopping in place to look at Steve to gauge his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up. "Oh," he says. He's really not sure what to make of that either.

Eddie starts pacing again.

"Yeah. So I asked her why there were two beds in their room, but not two beds in our room - kind of put my foot in my mouth if I'm being honest. I didn't mean to just blurt it out, but then she said 'we were just trying to make sure everyone was comfortable'," he says, inflecting his voice higher to mimic Nancy.

"What the hell does that mean?" Steve asks, trying to wrack his brain and see if he remembers her telling him anything about her and Jonathan's relationship being shaky. He thought they were good. There were some rocky times before Vecna, with the distance and everything, but once they were both in the same place again, things seemed to smooth out between them. They've been happy together for years as far as he could tell.

"Exactly!" Eddie says, finally coming to sit on the couch next to him. "I literally asked her what does that mean? Because I had no idea. Still have no idea. She said 'what? It's not like you have a problem sharing with Steve', which honestly something about her tone made me feel like I was stepping on her toes, so I just dropped it. But I can't stop thinking about it. Are she and Jonathan okay?"

"As far as I know," Steve says. "That's so weird. But if there is something happening between them, it would make sense that they'd call dibs on the one room that has two beds. I gotta talk to her and see what's going on."

"Don't, like, tell her I told you or anything," Eddie says to him. Steve still thinks it's hilarious that Eddie is patently afraid of Nancy and her guns, which are mostly retired and locked up.

"'Course not," he says. "I'll just ask how they're doing the next time we hang out. I hope it's something they can get through at least."

"Yeah," Eddie sighs. "If they don't make it, how are the rest of us supposed to have a chance?"

Steve does ask Nancy about it later, just casually asks how she and Jonathan are doing.

She kind of narrows her eyes at him and says they're fine, but her voice is suspicious like she isn't sure what he's getting at. He drops it because he's also a little afraid of her.

The entire situation just leaves him confused, though.

He doesn't bring it up to Nancy again, but he does talk to Robin about it because his conversation with Nancy left a weird feeling in his chest.

"Eddie told me Nancy and Jonathan had separate beds on vacation," Steve blurts out, trying to go for casual, but absolutely failing.

She looks over at him with a weird expression on her face and says, "Yeah, I thought you knew that? It was just how it all shook out. Nancy just wanted everyone to be comfortable." And those words are eerily similar to what Eddie told him Nancy said about it.

He asks, "What do you know?"

"What do you mean?" she counters.

"You know something," he says, narrowing his eyes. "Are she and Jonathan alright? I tried asking her, but I felt like she was gonna bite my head off."

"They're fine," Robin says. "Nancy and Jonathan were just taking one for the team."

Steve's still so confused.

Robin must see the confusion on his face because she grabs his hand and says, "Look, we don't really ever talk about it, and that's totally fine by the way, but we all just want you to be happy."

Steve isn't sure where that came from or what it has to do with Nancy and Jonathan, but he's touched that his friends want him to be happy, he supposes.

4.

It's when he and Eddie get an apartment together that Robin brings up the thing she said at the club, jogging his memory of that bizarre night.

She's helping him unpack his room, putting stuff in the drawers, leaving space in some of them like she expects half of his wardrobe to be filled with something else. He thinks it's just another one of her weird quirks. Does she keep yarn for her knitting projects in half of her dresser or something?

He's hanging some shirts and she's folding his jeans when she blurts out, "You know, you don't have to let him 'do whatever he wants' just because it's what he wants, right? You're allowed to have a say in it too, you know."

It takes him a minute to realize who she's even talking about and even longer to realize she's referring to the conversation they had at the club years ago now.

"What- Eddie?" he asks confused. She nods, so he asks, "Why, because we live together now and that should, like, change something?"

Robin sighs, setting the folded jeans in the drawer. "I just mean, this doesn't exactly seem like the type of thing you'd be into. You've never mentioned wanting-"

He cuts her off, and says, "I mean, it's not like I don't also hook up with people when we go out."

That shuts her up for a solid minute. He watches as she processes it and almost wants to roll his eyes. His friends really think he has no love life whatsoever, huh?

He knows he hasn't dated anyone in a long time, but he's fine hooking up with people when he and Eddie go out sometimes. He can't say he doesn't miss having someone, or being in a relationship, but he's fine for now. He's still young, he still has time, you know?

Robin looks at him and says, "Okay. Okay, if that's something you want. Only if it's what you want, though. Don't just let Eddie talk you into something you don't want to do. Don't let him walk all over you."

"Yeah, of course," he says easily. "And if you're worried about us bringing people back here and it causing tension or whatever, we have rules in place and everything."

Robin says, "That- that's good! Rules are good."

'Rules' might be stretching it, but they did talk about guests not staying for longer than one night and trying to keep it down when they do have guests and that's good enough for Steve.

Luckily, Robin seems content to let him drop the subject and talk about how they're thinking of decorating the living room.

5.

The invitation comes in the mail.

Max popped the question - surprising Lucas, who had been agonizing for weeks over how to propose - a few months ago.

They knew the invitations were coming. Max told him over the phone that they'd be coming soon and that she expected them to send back an RSVP even though she already knew they'd be coming.

Steve checks the mail and is surprised to find just one invitation addressed To Steve & Eddie.

He takes the mail inside and shows the invitation to Eddie, who's eating his breakfast, still a little bleary-eyed and soft from sleep.

He drags the chair at the kitchen table closer to Eddie's chair and drops into it as he watches Eddie frown at the envelope in his hands.

He looks at Steve and asks, "Just the one came?"

Steve nods and Eddie opens the envelope to pull out the invitation.

They look over the invitation and Steve notices the RSVP section doesn't have options to add a plus one for either of them.

"Wow," Eddie says, dragging the word out. "None of our friends think either of us would manage to convince someone to come with us to the wedding, huh?"

Steve hums in agreement. He knows Robin, Dustin, El, and Erica helped Max and Lucas with the invitations and no one saw an issue with this one.

"God, are we both so extremely single that not one of our friends thinks we could find a date?" Steve asks, putting his head in his hands.

"Truly and deeply so fucking single, dude," Eddie says, rubbing a hand over Steve's back to lament with him.

+1.

"Hey, can we talk?" Eddie asks him after dinner one night and Steve's heart immediately starts beating out of his chest.

That phrase, even uttered by a friend, out of blue, makes him think something is wrong. He has the irrational thought that he's about to get friend-broken up with or that maybe Eddie wants to get his own place or something, which would really fucking suck.

They've lived together for a long time and are kind of co-parents to a cat now - it would just be a supremely inopportune time for Eddie to suddenly decide he wants out.

Eddie must see the anxiety in his expression because he quickly says, "No, it's nothing bad. It's just- it's actually something good, I'm hoping."

"Uh, okay," Steve says, wringing his hands a little with worry.

Eddie takes a deep breath and says, "So you know how I haven't really been interested in going out or hooking up lately?"

Steve nods, his heart finally calming down a little. Eddie hasn't wanted to go out lately, but it's fine - Steve hasn't really been all that interested either, more content to just lounge around the apartment with Eddie than to go out and try to meet new people.

"It's because there's someone I'm kind of interested in right now, but I'm not sure if he likes me back. It's a close friend, so I've been debating whether or not to say anything because I don't want to screw things up if he doesn't feel the same," Eddie says.

Steve's eyebrows furrow trying to think of who Eddie could be into. The thought that he might be into Jeff or Grant or Gareth, one of his closest friends, makes something in Steve's stomach swirl. He's not sure he likes that. Eddie dating a close friend, moving out to move in with him, sharing a life with him - that leaves a bad taste in Steve's mouth.

But it's Eddie - and Eddie deserves to be happy - so he says, "I think if you like someone, even a friend, you should tell him. If he's into guys, I mean. He'd be a fool to say no to you, whoever he is."

The smile that lights up Eddie's face is a little painful to see for some reason.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Eddie says.

Steve expects Eddie to get up and leave, to go find whoever it is he's into, but he stays put, on the couch next to Steve.

He reaches out and takes one of Steve's hands in his, still looking at him, like he's waiting for something.

Thoughts churn through his brain, first wondering why Eddie would hold his hand when he's apparently in love with one of his friends, and then realizing that he's probably also in the category of people Eddie considers a close friend and then-

Oh.

"Me?" Steve whispers, eyes wide.

That smile is still there, fond and happy.

"You," Eddie says, squeezing his hand.

"But why though?" he blurts out.

Eddie laughs. "We kind of share a life together, dude. We have a cat together and a home. And like, I don't think I've ever wanted anyone the way I want you, so there's also that."

Steve looks at him and thinks about their friendship up until this point, thinks about them deciding to move in together, to keep the stray cat Eddie found, the natural stop to them going out to clubs and bars in favor of staying in together and curling up on the couch.

He thinks of waking up for a week straight on vacation with Eddie's arms wrapped around him, feeling safe in his arms.

He thinks about the feelings that wrap around his heart and squeeze when he looks at Eddie sometimes.

He thinks about Eddie's hand in his right now.

He squeezes his hand back.

"I did say whoever you were into would be stupid to say no to you," he says.

"You did say that," Eddie says. His cheeks are a little flushed and Steve is overcome with the urge to pepper kisses all over them.

He scoots closer on the couch and says, "I meant it."

Eddie leans in closer and says, "I want to kiss you, but I want to be sure that we're on the same page. Like, it's not just about wanting to fuck you, which I do by the way-"

Steve interrupts and says, "I mean, I kind of got that when you said you didn't want to ruin your friendship if I didn't feel the same."

"Shut up, I'm trying to confess my love to you," Eddie says.

"Love?" Steve teases.

The blush on Eddie's face deepens, spreading down his neck. "Kind of. I mean, I've known you for how long now? I think it's kind of impossible to know you and not love you."

There's heat prickling behind Steve's eyes, embarrassingly enough. "I'm gonna kiss you," he says, instead of addressing how that one line has absolutely swept him off his feet.

He pushes closer, closing the small distance between them, getting his mouth on Eddie's for the first time.

Eddie sighs against his mouth, this pleased little sound that lights Steve up from the inside. He wants to kiss Eddie until he's dazed with it, wants to hear all the noises Eddie can make, wants to draw them out of him with his mouth and his hands.

Eddie kisses him and kisses him and kisses him until his mouth feels tender under Eddie's.

He pushes Steve backwards on the couch to lay on top of him, his hips in the cradle of Steve's thighs. He keeps kissing him as he settles his weight on top of Steve, their bodies pressed flush together.

They lick into each other's mouths for a long minute, just tongues tasting each other and mouths moving together.

Steve is working up the courage to touch Eddie, to put his hands on him, when he hears him hiss in pain. He pulls away from Eddie's mouth and sees Trick clawing her way up Eddie's arm to get on the couch.

Eddie sits up and pulls her off his arm and deposits her on Steve's chest. She immediately steps on his windpipe in an attempt to curl up near his head.

"God, your daughter is so mean to me," Steve says as he moves her off his neck.

"To you?" Eddie asks, looking at his arm to make sure he's not bleeding. "It was my arm that she clawed."

Eddie's still perched between Steve's legs, but with Tricky on the couch, there's no way they can go back to making out.

And-

"I have to tell Robin," Steve says.

Eddie grins at him and asks, "Immediately after our first kiss? You're gonna run over to her place?" There's no judgment in his voice and that makes something in Steve's chest feel tender - that Eddie knows how he is with Robin and isn't weird about it.

"Yeah, it won't take long. I'll be back before you know it." Steve watches as Eddie climbs off him and adjusts himself in his pants. He covers Patricia's ears and says, "Trick won't like it, but when I get back, we can lock her out of the bedroom so she can't interrupt us next time."

"Oh yeah? And what are we gonna do 'next time'?" Eddie asks.

"Whatever you want," Steve says, watching the flush return to Eddie's face.

He bites back a grin and says, "Hurry back. I'll, uh, I don't know. I'll get myself ready or something."

Heat floods Steve's veins. "You gonna be waiting for me with a rose in your mouth when I get back?" he teases, trying to dissipate some of that heat.

"I think you're the roses boyfriend, not me."

"Boyfriend?" Steve asks, standing up from the couch.

"Boyfriend," Eddie says, cupping his jaw and kissing him again. It's easy to get swept up in it, the feeling of Eddie's mouth moving against his, the feeling of Eddie's hands on his waist.

He pulls back from the kiss with a slick noise and says, "I'll be back in like twenty minutes."

Eddie nods and lets him go.

Steve grabs his keys and heads over to Robin and Vickie's apartment where he knows Robin will be.

"Bobbin," he calls out as soon as he opens the door to her apartment.

"In here," she calls back from the kitchen.

He rounds the corner of the kitchen and says, "I'm pretty sure I'm in love with Eddie."

He watches several emotions pass over her face, none of them excitement, and deflates a little bit.

She says, "Okay?" like it's a question, like she's confused.

"Like, we're dating now and I'm. We like each other and I'm pretty sure it's more than that for both of us," he say, hoping to get some kind of reaction from her.

"I don't understand," she says.

"What's not to understand? Eddie and I- we're together now," he says, in case she didn't get it the first time.

Robin squints at him and says, "Okay, but you've never wanted to talk about it before. What's changed?"

"What do you mean, what's changed? We kissed and he said he was confessing his love to me. I thought you'd be happy?" His chest feels a little tight at the thought of Robin not approving. He really thought she'd be happy.

"Did you, like, break up and not tell me? Why would him confessing his love to you warrant a house call? Where is this coming from?" she asks, and Steve's moment of hurt is replaced with a deep sense of confusion because they are somehow not on the same page about this.

What the hell is she talking about?

"Rob, what do you mean break up?" he asks, feeling off-balance.

"I mean, you and Eddie have been together for years nowso I'm not sure what you're talking about." She looks in his eyes and then lights up. "Oh, are you trying to tell me you're exclusive now? That's exciting!"

Steve just stares at her for a minute, memories of the weird things his friends say to him and Eddie and the weird things that happen coming rushing to the surface. The weird conversations he's had with Robin over the years, feeling like they were talking about two different things. The first vacation where they shared a bed together even though there was a room with two beds, and how it happened again the next time they all went on vacation together. Dustin letting Eddie sit in the front seat of his car. The one, singular wedding invitation.

He's not even sure how to broach the fact that his friends all apparently thought he and Eddie have been together for years, but he says, "Eddie and I weren't dating before now. We literally just got together. We, like, literally just had our first kiss less than fifteen minutes ago."

"That's not funny, Steve. You guys have been in each other's pockets for closing in on five years now," Robin says, coming to sit on a bar stool at the kitchen island. "You, you live together and have a cat together."

He can see her mentally going through all the things she thought about them as he comes to sit next to her.

He gently says, "We weren't together before. We were only friends before today. I'm not sure what we did to make you think that we were together, but you know I'd talk to you about anyone I was dating, even Eddie."

"It's not just me!" Robin says, looking at him again with a piercing stare. "It's everyone! We all know. Or we thought you were together. I'm so confused. How is it possible that you've never kissed before? Like, wait a minute."

She stops talking and puts her head in her hands.

"What are you doing?" he asks her when she doesn't say anything for a couple minutes.

She pinches the bridge of her nose as she says, "I'm trying to channel my memories. Because there has to be a time where I asked you point blank if you were seeing Eddie and you said yes."

"I can guarantee you won't find that memory. Because it doesn't exist. Because Eddie and I weren't dating. Until now," he says.

"You went to Max and Lucas' wedding together!" she says, looking at him triumphantly.

"Not really," he says. "We thought everyone just thought we were both terminally single or something and that's why they sat us together."

Robin smacks her hand against her forehead. "This makes no sense to me. Wait, I asked you if you were in an open relationship before! We talked about it at the club and again when you moved in together. How do you explain that?" she asks.

"That time at the club, I thought you were talking about him ditching me to hook up. It didn't bother me. That's literally all I said. Not that we were in an open rela- wait, you really thought I'd be in an open relationship with someone?"

"I know! It never made sense to me! You're like the most monogamous person I know," Robin says. "Okay, I get that we crossed wires there, but what about when you moved in together? I talked to you about it then too. You said you had rules about hooking up."

He can see how saying that might have been misleading. He says, "I meant like, rules about keeping it down, not about us dating and hooking up with other people." He feels a headache coming on.

Robin looks just as exasperated as he feels. She looks like she's grasping at straws when she says, "You're always together and you touch each other all the time. When I've seen you cook together, you're always bumping his hip or hand-feeding him extra ingredients."

"We live together, of course we found a groove cooking together." he says.

"A groove, okay," she says, rolling her eyes. "But even before then, you were always hanging out."

"Because he's my closest guy friend? Closest friend in general other than you," he says, still so unsure how he missed his entire friend group thinking they were together.

Steve doesn't know how this happened - how all his friends could have thought they were together when he didn't even know how he felt about Eddie until today. How could he have missed this?

But listen.

Steve has never claimed to be a smart man.

If anything, he thinks Eddie should have caught on long before he ever did, so he's holding strong that it's not his fault he didn't see the signs. If Eddie couldn't see them either, how the hell was Steve supposed to be able to?

"And now you're boyfriends," Robin says, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"And now we're boyfriends," he agrees.

She grins over at him and says, "That's the first time you've said the b-word. This is the first time we've talked about it and you said the b-word. You really weren't dating before now."

He shakes his head. "We really weren't. And I seriously can't believe you ever bought me saying we were in an open relationship. It's like you don't know me at all," he says with a sniff.

"No, I was extremely confused about it, but you were happier with him than anyone else I've ever seen you with, so it didn't matter what I thought, you know?"

Steve's face smooths out at that and his heart melts a little. He loves her so much.

He hugs her to his side and she playfully shoves him away.

"I can't believe I've had it wrong - we've all had it wrong - this whole time. The more I think about it, though, the more it makes sense that you weren't together. Like, I expected you to be talking about him all the time, but you never really gushed about him to me. At first, I thought it was because it was your first boyfriend, you know?" she says.

He nods. He can get that. What he can't get is- "You were okay with me not talking about him, sure. But you really think I wouldn't kiss a guy I was dating in front of you? Or hold his hand?"

Robin shrugs and runs a hand over her forehead like she's getting a headache from thinking about it. "I thought you were just shy at first. Again, the boy thing. And then it was just habit not to or maybe Eddie wasn't into PDA- I was just guessing. And, I, everyone thought it, so it's not just me. You guys literally adopted a cat together, how were we supposed to take that any other way?" she asks in an exasperated tone.

"She's Eddie's, technically."

"You're telling me Patricia's not your daughter?" Robin asks.

"No, she is. But Eddie's the one that found her, so I'm just her step-dad," he says.

Robin stands up from where she's seated and says, "See! You say shit like that all the time and expect us not to think you're dating him?"

He winces. "Yeah, I kind of see it now. Well, good news is that we are dating now and I'm gonna go home and fuck him about it."

Robin rolls her eyes. "Christ, I can't believe I ever thought you could be dating him and be anything other than like that about him."

"Oh Robbie, when we come up for air, you're gonna wish we weren't like that about each other. Apparently, we've got like five years of PDA to make up for," he says with a grin.

[onnahu]

Steph, Duke and Jason bond over not being born Fucking Rich and believing that billioners shouldn't exist and just you know. Normal shit. They give a pass for Bruce bc of Batman and all the charity and Tim bc he is (was?) a minor and is not a billionaire level rich. Dick is not one of them bc in his childhood it wasn't a big deal in the circus and he was showed into a billionaire life at like, 8, so he also count's as a Fucking Rich. Cass's mostly not there bc I just feel like she simply do not care about bitching about things like that, and also have no concept of monet whatsoever.

And one time Steph or Duke just throws in how the 1% hoard like 40% of world's wealth instead of letting it circle in economy and how that's a big cause of poverty, and Jason is like 'yeah, eat the rich' and then Steph just goes 'actually, aren't you super rich from your crime lord stunt?'

And Jason realises that he may not be the 1%, but he is Fucking Rich, and he's horrified. So they bully him for a while (he is also bullying. He's bullying himself) bc sure, he needs it to be a vigilante of his kind if he doesn't want to go off Bruce's money, but it still isn't a reason to have so much. (It's not only a crime lord money. He had a starter pack from Talia that's like 1/3 of it and he is shamelessly stealing of Lex Luthor, Bruce and other billionairs)

Anyway, they cane to the conclusion that he needs to return the money to the circulation. He leaves himself a million or three (idk how much he'd need to keep all of his safehouses and shit) and the rest goes into creating a bunch of independent little bussinesses and buying off others, but in form of like, sponsoring. The bosses have pretty much a full control over money, they get an absurdly big budget and create it without S, D, or J's imput, and later they just cut off like 20% procent of income or smth to pay them as the official owners. That 20% goes into creating more bussinesses, and at some point the three owns half of the bussinesses in Gotham (Duke and Steph demanded to have a part in it and also an access to the account they made for all that bussiness shit)

I just think it would be funny if at some point someone realised that the owners owners of so many bussinesses are the same three people (Helena Thomas, Morgan Brown and Todd Peters). They lost their count at the first 5, so honestly they wouldn't notice if some of them just stopped paying, but they still create new. They have no idea what they're doing.

Babs knows it all and is pissed that she is not a part of 'fuck the rich' club. Because of that she doesn't help them even when they beg over official documents.

[umathurwin]

i’m the girl you’d die for

kiara carrera x rafe cameron; nsfw 18+

summary: Kiara and Rafe are locked in a Barbados villa together. Tensions are high. They share a bed. We know where this is going.

tags, warnings, and more on ao3!

Rafe, bored out of his mind, made multiple attempts to start a conversation with no success. Kiara remained committed to keeping her mouth shut, but she nervously stared at him like prey. He considered mocking her for this, but given everything he’s done to her friend group, he instead chose to let her continue ogling him and only smirked when their eyes met. Which was often.

Still, he was generous. Undressed slowly, flexing when his torso was exposed until her cheeks were red.

When the moon casted beams across the room, it was glaringly obvious to both that they needed sleeping arrangements that would invite the least amount of discomfort. “I’m a feminist. I can take the floor,” Kiara offered, breaking her silence while enviously staring at the luxurious king-size occupying the majority of the room.

He scoffed. “No, you can have the bed,” Rafe said and tossed a pillow on the ground. Kiara twisted her face up in confusion. “Are you surprised? If I banished you to the ground, my mother would turn in her grave.”

“No one’s ‘banishing’ anyone anywhere, I just think sharing would be— kind of weird, no? I’ll take it tomorrow night,” she suggested, then winced at the idea that they’d be here another day. Rafe had a similar physical reaction but said nothing, instead creating a pallet with the spare blankets and pillows.

Nothing else was said for the rest of the evening.

***

Kiara sat up, a scream still fresh on her lips. She kicked and clawed around the empty sheets, fighting off an attacker that lingered only in her dreams.

Rafe jolted awake and looked at the door, ensuring it was still shut and locked. “Kie, are you okay?” he asked, using the bedpost to bring himself to standing.

She hadn’t caught her breath yet, but still tried to explain herself. “The plane— Jimmy, he’s— fuckin’ hell,” Kiara pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to scrub the imagery out of her brain.

He was by her side in an instant, dipping into the bed on his knees. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe. It was just a nightmare.” His hand reached out to console her but he jerked back in fear of overstepping a boundary while she was still vulnerable.

“No shit, Rafe,” she bit, then looked up with wet eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine. I’ve gotten worse. Are you alright?”

“Please stay with me.”

Now that he didn’t expect. Guess the weirdness be damned. “I— uh, of course. Just… try to get some rest, yeah?”

He slipped between the silk sheets, letting the plush duvet settle over his figure. Kiara remained tense until he finally placed a soft hand on her shoulder. Rafe felt her physically deflate, and his eyes widened when she rolled over and rested her head on his bare chest.

Unsure of what to do, he lay rigid as her breaths evened out into soft snores. He brought a hand to the back of her head, lightly stroking her hair as they both drifted off to sleep again.

***

She woke for the second time that night, this time without the forceful tug out of slumber. No, this time it was something much different that pulled her from her now-peaceful dreams.

His dick.

No fucking joke, she could feel him pressed up against her ass. They seemed to have shifted in the middle of the night to a spooning position, and his semi-hard cock was perfectly caught between their bodies. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of him having a pleasant enough dream to get like this, and the devil on her shoulder won.

Ever-so-carefully, she shifted backwards in an attempt to increase their contact. Once their bodies were entirely flush, she grinded back. One of his arms was tossed over her waist, and she slotted her hand over his to hold him in place.

His cock twitched, she could feel it. She knew this was really wrong, messing with him in his sleep, but she couldn’t stop. Eventually she dared to reach back and stroke over his boxers, which only made him harder.

She wasn’t sure what the endgame would be. In fact, she wasn’t really thinking at all, given that her brain had entirely shut off the moment she felt him pressing into her. Kiara figured she could keep going until she was tired enough to fall back asleep, and was perfectly content with this choice.

That is, until the man behind her started to push back against her hand. She froze like a spooked rabbit, breath catching in her throat. Kiara tried to pull her arm away, but he pinned it to her side with a grip around her waist.

Rafe snickered, pulling her snug against him. “Couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

Fuck. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Think I’d wake up? S’pretty stupid, doll,” he hummed, sleep still rasping his voice.

Her body flamed with embarrassment, thinking she would never hear the end of this. That is, until she realized he was tugging his boxers even lower to fully free himself. This is just another dream , she thought to herself. Surely Rafe isn’t about to fuck me.

Then he lined himself up with ease, simply pushing her panties to the side and gliding the tip along her wet folds. “Hope you know that if you wanted this, all you had to do was ask. Didn’t have to go violating me in my sleep.” He groaned as he guided himself inside her until the tip of his cock had disappeared within her walls. “But I won’t complain about this.”

A pathetic whine ripped from her. She pushed back to get him even deeper, and he matched her movements until his balls pressed against her clit. She clenched around him and suddenly it was him groaning, digging his fingers into her sheer nightgown.

The angle was perfect, and with every thrust he was directly hitting a spot that made her cry out. The hand that wasn’t wrapped around her body reached around her head to clamp over her mouth. “Shh, pretty girl. Don’t want the guards running in on this, do you?”

Kiara shook her head desperately.

He laughed at her whimpers, thoroughly enjoying the way she trembled in his grip. “You act like you hate me,” he chided, completely stilling his hips to her dismay. “Ignoring me. Giving me forced glares. You think I don’t see the way you look at me? Can’t believe it took you this long to do something about it, you little slut.”

She was overwhelmed to the point of tears spilling down her cheeks, and he smirked when he felt the droplets hit his hand. “Not sure why you’re crying, baby, you’re the one who wanted this.”

Kiara reached up to pull his hand from her face, just enough to choke out the words, “Rafe, please, move.”

“Now she has manners,” he teased but obeyed anyways.

He fucked her until she came, legs shaking and back arching. Rafe had to cover her mouth again to keep the noise down. He didn’t stop, even when she tried to cry out from overstimulation. The hand tucked around her waist trailed down until it was just above her mound, and he pressed in firmly.

“Feel that, doll? S’all me, making you feel so good. That’s it,” he purred, still thrusting and enjoying the feeling of her clenching and shivering in his arms.

He finished inside her, not that Kie expected any less. His hips stuttered and he dropped his head to her shoulder, trying to cover his own moans by digging his teeth into the flesh there.

They returned to silence, this time without the thick tension between them. The room seemed much cooler, despite the sweat beading on their bodies.

And with that out of their systems, the duo fell back asleep, more comfortable than either could’ve imagined.

[skkpaws]

a lot of people are talking about the new wan chapter and the idea of skk being fanfic writers and can i just propose that if they were fic writers in the canon universe they’d have the CRAZIEST authors notes explaining why they weren’t updating.

Notes:

“Heyyy sorry for not updating, I met this annoying ass kid from the mafia and was forced to work with him so my friends wouldn’t be killed but I guess it worked out cause this dude we had to find was starting shit in MY name (long story 😒). Anyway we found him and dealt with him (I did most the work) so now I’m back! I’m at a new place now but don’t worry, updates should continue as normal 😁”

Notes:

“hi guys sorry for being gone i almost died (bullet wounds suck .. >_>) but then this nice man helped me (i was such a great patient :3) ! then we both got captured by some assholes but dw we both got out! posting this at the bar rn ^_^ hope u enjoyed”

[sassthatsarcasm]

hey, don’t write yourself off yet

[ophii]

redrew this :3

[hood-ex]

Bruce barging in on Dick and Roy's violent trauma dump sexcapade is absolutely sending me.

[apuckishwit]

With a Capital P

Saw this post about Stobin having no boundaries, by @grimmfitzz and oops, my hand slipped.

By all rights, there should be some awkwardness. A little lingering strangeness, an adjustment period, if you will. After all, only a few days ago, he fully thought he had feelings for Robin. Well, obviously he does have feelings for her...but he'd thought they were entirely different than the ones he has.

He's maybe a little more concussed than he'd convinced the paramedics he was. To be fair, they had a lot going on.

The point is, he feels like there should be more weirdness. A time period in which he awkwardly shuffles Robin from a box marked 'possible girlfriend?' to the one marked just 'friend'--the one Tommy and Carol used to occupy before things went so sideways (though he's still too afraid to really examine the spaces those two left, too afraid it'll just confirm that he wasted so much time with people who were never his friends at all). Maybe even slot her into the box he's slowly constructing for the kids...something not quite labeled 'friend' and not quite labeled 'family' and quickly coming to take up the biggest chunk of his battered, lonely heart (oh, wow, yeah...definitely more concussed than he let on).

Turns out, though, that being drugged and tortured together, and then launching an assault on a gigantic flesh beast from another dimension with nothing but fireworks and nerve lets you skip over a lot of the beginning phases of a relationship (romantic or otherwise). Also turns out there's a secret, fourth box he didn't even know about. One that's just marked 'Robin' that he has apparently been just waiting for her to come along and fill.

Robin ends up spending most of the rest of the summer at Steve's house, more often than not. He doesn't know what she tells her parents. Doesn't particularly care. He's always had a weird relationship with parental care and authority, so he's not sure he's really in a position to have an opinion about if Robin is lying to her parents about where she is, or if they don't care that she's hanging out at his place so much.

They spend days abusing the central air, or watching movies they swipe from Family Video, or eating snacks out by the pool (he tells her she's welcome to swim, she notes that he never gets in the water himself and doesn't ask questions...but also doesn't move from his side). At first, he makes up a guest room for her when she spends the night, but after the fourth or fifth time one (or both) of them wake up screaming (goddamn, goddamn, goddamn it, he'd just gotten a handle on the nightmares about impossible creatures bursting from the wall, now he gets new material to deal with?) Robin just groans and collapses onto Steve's bed, burrowing under his blankets with him.

"Your room is hideous," she grumbles, grabbing one of his hands and bringing their joined fingers to rest in the small space between their bodies.

"I know," he shrugs. He squeezes her hand. She squeezes back. He listens to her breaths in the dark, feels the warmth radiating off of her. It's comforting. Grounding. He's not alone. Whatever terrors the night brings for them, they'll face it together.

He wakes up hours later, sunlight streaming into his room and the beautiful girl he'd thought he was falling for snuggled right up against his side, the two of them having moved in the night. It should be the stuff of adolescent fantasies but all he feels is a distant sort of confusion that they actually slept so long. Robin's face is smashed into his shoulder and he realizes he's been drooling into her hair, and the first thing she does when she wakes up is shriek about it.

"Ewww, gross! Seriously?!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

"Spit, Steve! My hair is covered in your spit!"

"Well I'm pretty sure this giant booger on my shirt isn't mine, Buckley!"

"Are you accusing me of--oh, wow that is big." Robin starts rubbing at her nose as she stalks into the bathroom and the shower starts running a moment later. He opens the door long enough to toss a clean towel onto the sink and then wanders down to the kitchen to start coffee.

She makes fun of his bedhead when she comes down the stairs, he goggles at the amount of milk and sugar she puts in her coffee. And he never makes up the guest room for her again.

*

"I am telling you, Johnson is trying to kill us with his exams! It's barely October and we've already had three!" Robin stabs angrily at the chicken cutlets in the pan with her fork, holding one up so Steve can see how brown it is on one side. At his nod, she starts flipping them over. She ducks her head without looking when he reaches over her to snag the basil out of the spice cabinet, still stirring the tomato sauce with his free hand.

"Yeah, Johnson's a dick. Glad I'm done with his class for good." He dips the spoon out of the sauce and blows on it for a moment before tasting, then holds the spoon out for Robin to lick the rest of it off.

"Mmm, more red pepper. And I know! You're so lucky. How did you even pass? Cheryl Mackey was crying in the band room after she got her test back, and she's like, straight a student all the way." Robin finishes flipping the chicken and goes back to chopping carrots for their salad.

"Oh, Robert O'Connell--the guy that works down at the Snack n' Go?--he saved all his tests from when he had Johnson a few years ago. Johnson never writes new ones. You give Robert 20 bucks, you can get any of the answer keys."

Robin sets the knife down and reaches into Steve's back pocket, pulling his wallet out. "Couldn't have told me this earlier?" she grouses, yanking two tens out and shoving the wallet back in his pocket.

"Hey, that's my gas money for the week!" He grabs the pot with the noodles off the stove and takes it to the colander waiting in the sink, sticking his ass out expectantly.

"You look like a hooker trying to pick up johns."

"Well give me at least half my gas money back so I don't have to sell my body to drive you and Henderson to school this week."

"Ugh, fine." She grabs his wallet again and stuffs one of the tens back into it. Then winds up one of his dish towels and smacks his rear end hard enough that he jumps about a foot in the air.

He dumps the drained noodles back into the pot and turns around to bring it back to the stove only to find that Robin is right behind him with the pot of sauce, apparently having been bringing it over to the sink. They collide, hard, and Robin screams bloody murder as hot spaghetti sauce gets dumped all down her front.

"Hot, hot, hot, fuck, hot!"

"Shit, hold on!" He all but tosses the pot of noodles back into the sink and snatches the sauce pot out of her hands. As soon as he does she's whipping off her shirt and grabbing the dish towel she hit him with, wiping off the smears of sauce that got onto her arms. "Did it burn you?" he asks, searching her torso for blisters, even though he knows at the back of his mind that the sauce was only on a simmer.

"No...no, I think I'm good. Damn, I liked that shirt, though." She straightens, glaring down at the sauce pot he slammed onto the counter.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

He holds his tongue for approximately zero point three seconds.

"Okay, then can we talk about this whole situation, cause I feel like I just got a major piece of the puzzle of why you don't have a girlfriend, yet. What the hell are you wearing?"

Robin's bra is so faded it's unclear what color it was originally, two large tears right above the elastic band.

Robin looks almost comically offended. "Excuse me? I'm sorry, are you commenting on my very comfortable and perfectly functional underwear?"

"Functional, yeah, if the function is 'never get laid ever'."

Robin crosses over to the doorway that leads to the laundry room. "We can't all exclusively wear Calvin Klein, Harrington!"

"How do you know what underwear I wear?"

"Am I wrong? Also, Jesus Christ do you own any normal shirts?"

"What's wrong with my shirts now? Hey, I'm not taking fashion advice from a girl in a, a grandma bra!"

"Hey!" She steps back out of the laundry room, wearing one of his old basketball team shirts.

They keep bickering back and forth as Steve tries to salvage dinner, eventually ending up just sitting on his kitchen counter dipping pieces of breaded chicken into the remains of the pasta sauce in the pot, having decided they really didn't want to eat spaghetti that had to be fished out of the sink.

"I'm not buying a bunch of frilly, sparkly lace just to wear under my clothes," Robin informs him. "That shit itches."

"Not saying you have to, but at least get something that doesn't look like it came out of the bottom of my gym bag."

"Eww, don't talk about your gym bag while I'm eating!"

*

It is a slow day in Family Video, and Robin has been casting him strangely intense looks since she came on shift. He restocks the shelves, picks through the candy to take home the almost expired shit to give to the kids, and is halfway through the rewinding before it finally gets to him.

"What?!" he demands. Robin blinks at him, immediately shrugging. A little too fast, actually.

"What, what?" she asks. He narrows his eyes at her and she ducks her head, pretending to find her biology textbook extremely interesting. He knows she's pretending because she hates biology. They're making her dissect a frog this quarter. After a few seconds, she slams the book shut and straightens up, determined look settling on her face.

Steve has just enough time to get a little nervous before she says, "How do you do the tongue thing?"

He blinks at her. "Uh...can you be more specific?"

She rolls her eyes. "You know...the thing! The thing with your tongue."

"I promise you, I do not know. What're you talking about?"

She looks around the store, as if some customers that they somehow haven't noticed in the last three hours might suddenly appear. Then she lowers her voice. "Like, sex things. With your tongue." She huffs a frustrated sigh. "They had to combine gym periods today 'cause Mrs. Hornby had to sub for Janson's history class, and Maryanne Greene was talking about how her boyfriend wouldn't go down on her and then Sue Rennet--you remember Sue? Apparently you dated her for, like, two weeks at the end of her Sophomore year--started talking about you and how you used to do that to her and it's the best sex she's ever had."

And oh...okay, he remembers Sue. Nice girl, a little ditzy, but she hadn't wanted to get more serious, and then Nancy had caught his eye. He can't help but puff up a little. Sure, Hawkins isn't exactly a big city overrun with choices, and judging by the talk he remembers from his own locker room days, he's a little bit of an outlier as far as being concerned with making sure his partners are having as good a time as he is...but to be called the best someone has ever had is nice.

"Don't let it go to your head," Robin says, because she can read his mind quite a lot of the time. "Just...tongue thing. You know, in case I ever do get a shot with, literally anyone."

He softens at that, reaches across the counter to ruffle her hair because it annoys her as much as it annoys him when someone does that. "You will," he says softly, and thinks that he would give almost anything, would probably happily trade any shot at happiness for himself if he could make sure Robin had someone to love her the way she deserves to be loved. He grabs one of her school notebooks and tears a sheet out, grabbing a pen out of the cup beside the computer.

"Okay, so, first things first, you can't just dive right in--gotta get the motor warmed up a little first--"

"Please don't talk in car analogies the whole time," Robin says, leaning in as he draws a crude (heh, see what he did there?) sketch of what he's going to be talking about.

"Noted. So what you're gonna do is start with a little massage around this area," he points with the end of the pen, "really take your time, get things nice and slick..."

He talks, Robin listening intently and occasionally asking questions.

"No you don't--flutter your tongue, flutter it. Here, like this..."

"Okay, vibration is good, but you're not, like, trying to blow a raspberry on her clit--"

"I said flutter!"

And that is how Lucas and Dustin find them about forty minutes later: Steve with his mouth held open wide, demonstrating what he means by fluttering his tongue while Robin stares at it like it holds the secrets of the universe, pen in hand as she takes furious notes.

In retrospect, he supposes he should be grateful that Lucas didn't immediately join Dustin on the 'Steve and Robin are totally dating' train.

*

"Shit! Steve! Wake up, it's Wednesday!"

Steve's eyes shoot open and he's vertical before he's fully awake, reaching for the nailbat propped up by his bedside table, but it's not there. It's...his bedside table isn't there either.

What the fuck, where's his bed?

"Steve!" Robin shouts, and he blinks rapidly, his surroundings resolving themselves into his...living room?

"What...Rob, what the hell? You're on winter break! You don't have school today?"

Ugh, why does his mouth taste like something died? He looks around the room, at the piles of dusty boxes that look like they came from...

Oh.

Oh yeah.

He and Robin had spent yesterday dragging the Harrington family Christmas decorations down from the attic because Robin said his house looked like a sad capitalism museum and she refused to spend the holidays in a place that didn't have a single Christmas light up. And then they'd found Steve's grandmother's recipe for homemade eggnog. And he'd maybe experimented a little bit with the liquor ratios...they must have fallen asleep on the couch.

"We don't have school but we both promised Keith we'd open all this week!" Robin shouts.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

They're still dressed in their clothes from yesterday. And they smell like a goddamn distillery. Without thinking about it, he grabs her hand and starts hauling her upstairs. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Fuck, shit, fuck!" she agrees as they rocket into the bathroom. Steve starts the water while Robin yanks clean towels out of the linen closet. "Do you have pants I can wear?" she asks, tossing the towels onto the sink and stripping out of her shirt.

"Yeah, I've got those jeans from, like, three years ago. Those fit you pretty well, right?" He tosses his own jeans and boxers towards the laundry hamper, followed by his shirt, and jumps into the shower, adjusting the temperature hotter than he likes it, because Robin's a weirdo who likes to boil herself in the mornings.

"Good enough!" Robin leaps in after him and they squeeze under the spray just long enough to get hair and body wet before separating somewhat so Robin can start scrubbing herself and he can get started on his hair. "Why didn't you set an alarm?"

"Me? Why didn't you set an alarm? You're the one who wanted to take the shifts!"

"Like you're gonna turn down holiday pay."

"It's Keith! Holiday pay probably means a buy one get one coupon to Pizza World up the highway!" He sticks his head under the water again to rinse his hair out and they switch places.

"Are you saying you wouldn't take a buy one get one coupon to Pizza World?"

"I mean...no?"

They switch places again so that Steve can rinse the soap off his body and then it's a race to get dried off, teeth brushed, dressed, and out to the car so they can get to the store in time. It's only as they are piling out of the BMW in front of Family Video that it seems to occur to them both at the same time what they just did. They both pause, mid-step and turn to each other wide-eyed.

"Huh," Steve says quietly.

"Yeah," Robin answers.

Then they shrug and continue towards the store entrance, making it in with exactly three and a half minutes to spare.

*

"Steve I really think if you're worried about this, you should be talking to a doctor, not me," Robin says, peering at a medical journal she checked out from the library spread out over her lap. "Has it changed color or shape recently?"

"I don't know, maybe? I've got so many moles, it's hard to keep track."

"Any pain or tenderness?" She reaches out and taps his hip so that he turns a little more towards the light cast by her desk lamp.

"No, definitely not. I was just having, you know, private time in the shower and it looked weird to me when I looked down."

Robin hums thoughtfully and pokes at the weird-looking mole on Steve's groin. "I mean, it doesn't look like any of these pictures of bad moles, but if you think it looks different to how it used to, you should probably get it check out regardless."

"Damn it, I was afraid you'd say that," he sighs. She shuts the medical journal and props her chin on one hand as he pulls his pants back up.

"Should I call and make the appointment?"

He huffs and flops back down onto her bed. "Yes please," he grumbles. He never remembers to write down all the appointment details.

"You want me to book something over spring break so I can go with you?"

"Nah, just whatever's available soonest. I'd rather not sit around and stress about it."

It turns out to be nothing to worry about. But three weeks later, Dustin and Max come bursting into Family Video while he and Robin are watching a new report about a brutal murder, and Steve is wishing all he had to stress about was a maybe-weird mole on his dick.

*

It's not like no one was aware that Steve and Robin were...perhaps unusually close friends. It was just never much of an issue (except to Dustin, who was obsessed with the idea of the two of them getting together) before the events of the spring of '86 and after...

Well.

Who cared how weirdly codependent Steve and Robin were when Max and Eddie had nearly died and the Upside Down was bursting up into the real Hawkins? Honestly, if that was the weirdest thing about them after all they've been through, he'd count that pretty lucky.

After everything, though--after they put Vecna/Henry Creel/One/Whatever in the fucking ground, after they do what Steve was beginning to think was impossible and seal the Upside Down away from them forever, after Max is as recovered as she's ever going to be (she's probably never going to be able to get a driver's license even with glasses, and her doctors tell them the leg braces and crutches might have to be permanent, but she's alive...she's alive, she's alive, she's alive), after Robin finally feels safe enough to come out to the group at large, after Steve spends an entire week holed up in his room screaming into his pillow while Robin patted his back consolingly before marching down to Eddie's new (government-funded) trailer and announcing that it turns out he likes both and would Eddie please go on a date with him...

He thinks maybe Eddie didn't quite understand what he was getting into when he agreed almost before Steve was done asking him out.

"Uh...hey guys," Eddie says slowly, taking in the picture he and Robin present in Steve's kitchen. There's a bag of cucumbers, a few eggplants, and several bananas spread out on the island in front of them. Robin has a tape measure and a homemade pamphlet acquired from a very exclusive shop they traveled to Indianapolis to visit last weekend. Steve is holding up two of the cucumbers for comparison. "What's, uh, what's going on here?"

Steve and Robin exchange a look. Then Steve jumps up and snatches the tape measure out of her hands. "Perfect! Here, Eds, lemme measure you." He reaches for Eddie's belt, only to freeze with a look of annoyance when his boyfriend jumps back with a yelp.

"Whoa! Whoa, hey, baby, I have no idea what you're talking about and also Robbie's right there!"

"What? Oh it's fine, Rob and I have seen each other naked plenty of times."

"Ask me about the time we accidentally showered together," Robin pipes up with a grin.

"Wait, no...wait, what? How do you accidentally shower together?" Eddie asks incredulously. Then he shakes his head. "Wait, no! No, not important. Robin has never seen me naked, and I am not whipping my dick out in front of your best friend so you can measure it! And why do you want to measure it?"

"Well I was trying to just guesstimate how big you are," Steve says, gesturing to the array of produce on the island, "but it'll be easier if I can just get the numbers from the source."

"Why do you need exact measurements of my dick?!" Eddie's eyes have gone wide as dinner plates, his voice reaching an octave usually reserved for his female NPC's in his nerd game. Steve huffs.

"Babe, you said you want to fuck me, but like, all these guides say we should work up to it." He jerks a thumb back over his shoulder at the pamphlet that Robin is now helpfully holding up. "So I'm gonna figure out exactly how big you are, and then Rob and I are gonna go up to this shop we found in Indy and get some of these toys. It's supposed to help me get used to things being, you know, up there."

Robin nods seriously.

Eddie looks at him. Looks at Robin. Looks back at him.

Steve has never seen someone look touched and horrified at the same time. Eddie rakes a hand back through his hair and sighs.

"What...what measurements do you need, exactly?"