#he'll get a fic soon

[giggly-squiggily]

A Fae's Sensitivity (Cafe Enchante)

Whoops I fell in love with Cafe Enchante oarkjeakjrjkea

Hello everyone! :D A little goal I have this year is to work through the backlog of visual novels on my switch (I feel like I say that every year- whoops) and recently I decided to play Cafe Enchante! :D Lemme tell you; this game is so good??? It's cozy and comforting and at times heart wrenchingly angsty (looking at you, Ignis) but it's just- AH! Y'all!!!

I started with Canus' route, so that's who this fic is dedicated to! I hope you like it! :3

Summary: It's hard to tell if a headless knight is ticklish, but Kotone and friends find a rather successful method.

“Ehehehe, stahp!”

Kotone laughed, delighted at the small squeaks Kariya let out as her fingers poked at his belly. “No way! You’re so ticklish!”

“Shut up! You are too!” With quick fingers, the younger boy managed to poke her ribs, making Kotone jump back with a squeak of her own. “See?”

“Oh it is ON!” She cried, quickly diving back in as she mostly trapped Kariya against the counter, giggling up a storm as they jabbed and poked at each other's torsos. In the background, the regulars snickered quietly to themselves.

One in particular, Canus, was watching them fondly. At least- that was what was assumed given he had no face. Flames puffed and danced with a shimmer of happy green at the sound of the pair’s fight carried over. “The cafe is lively today.”

“Pff- this is normal.” Ignis rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, the tips of his cheeks getting red when he heard Kotone squeal once more. “Oi, don’t let him beat you; you’re older than him, Kotone!”

“I’m trhihihying! Aheahha, Kahahariya!” Somehow the tables had turned, now she was pinned against the counter as Kariya squeezed her sides. “Sahhahave mehhehehe C-Cahahahanus!”

The knight startled, flames blue with surprise at his name. “Huh?”

“You heard her. Go save the princess.” Miysr teased, gesturing at the two across the way. “She needs a hero, doesn’t she?”

“Perhaps he’s nervous because he’s also ticklish?” Il mused, making everyone look his way. Even Kariya and Kotone paused their tickle fight at the statement. “Fae’s are known for being rather sensitive.”

“Wait, real-eheheahhhahahah!” Kariya’s statement was cut off as Kotone squeezed his sides, gently moving him out of the way with curious eyes. “Kotone!”

“Is this true, Canus?” She asked, returning the attention back to the knight. “Are you ticklish?”

The flames sent from blue to a growing shade of vibrant pink the longer the question hung in the air. Canus’ fingers seemed to tighten on his biceps, stiffening up at the question. Despite the body language, he didn’t radiate discomfort- just mild embarrassment. “Erm…that is to say…yes?”

“Oh, really?” Ignis and Misyr shared a look, standing up from their places as they began encircling the knight. “Sounds like you’re not entirely sure. Mind if we..test it out?”

“Ignis…Misyr..do not forget. I might not always use it, but I am quite knowledgeable. If you insist on going through with this, I will be forced to share certain facts with Miss Awaki.”

That made them both pause, Ignis’ face flushing a few shades of pink while Misyr looked nervous. Whatever it was must have been pretty detrimental to make them back off like that.

Luckily for Kotone, Canus had nothing on her the group didn’t know already.

“In that case, here I come!” She cried, running across the room and into his arms. Canus barely had a chance to respond, yelping when she grabbed his sides. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

“Mm! Hhmmhmhmhm!” Canus made a few startled noises as her fingers pressed into his ribs, shivering all over. His arms remained crossed against his chest, but they trembled with restraint. “K-Kotone!”

“Oh, I can hear you starting to laugh!” She grinned, eyes twinkling as she doubled her efforts. The pink flames seemed to bounce and dance with each shake of his body, hands knuckle white as they dug into his biceps. Still- despite her words, he was just barely cracking. For a brief moment, she wondered if he was uncomfortable.

“Keep going, Kotone- he’s smiling!” Kariya cheered from the back, vanishing any worries in an instant. “He’s fighting it, but he looks like he’s gonna break!”

“I am n-not!” Canus grunted, voice shaky. Ignis and Misyr shared another look overhead before slowly starting to smile.

“Well…technically we didn’t start this, did we Ignis?” The demon asked.

“Nope, not at all. That means his threats no longer apply.” The firewolf agreed with a devious grin. “Shall we?”

“Lets.”

Canus didn’t get a chance to defend himself, barely yelping out a “wait-” as Ignis grabbed his wrists, pulling them up and out of the way. Misyr sweeped in beside Kotone to deliver a series of scratches and scribbles against Canus’ ribs. With that, the headless knight was finally laughing.

“Pffft-gehahhahahahaha! HEheahhahahhahahammmph! Hehahahahahaha! Ceeeahahhahase this aahahaht ohohohonce!” He yelped through breathy giggles, twisting some against Ignis’ grip. “Mihihiihstyr! Kohohohohtohohohne! Gehahahhha, pleahahhahahse!”

“Oh wow- check it out! His flames are growing!” Ignis observed, grinning as he watched them rise higher than usual. “Kotone, poke him there again!”

“Okay!” She squeezed the softer parts of his stomach, watching his flames grow in height and color. His laughter seemed to increase as well. “Is this a bad spot?”

“Let me try something.” Misyr winked as he dropped a hand, squeezing Canus’ thigh. “If my hunch is correct…”

“EEH!” Canus let out a shriek of mirth, full body jerking at the touch. “MIHIHIHISYR NOHOHO!”

“Ooo, it worked! It worked- he’s really ticklish here!” Misyr laughed like a child, squeezing more. Kotone was giggling just as hard, her fingers pressing and pinching into the Knights torso with ease. Each gasp and giggle she relished, picturing Canus’ smile in her mind and what it looked like. He must have looked so happy.

Eventually, all good things must come to an end. Canus, remembering he was stronger than Ignis, pulled a hand free from its encapture. He gently tapped Kotone on the head- signaling he was done.

“Okay- enough!” She called to the boys, pulling her hands back. Misyr followed suit as Ignis released Canus’ other wrist. The knight doubled over with a few wheezy laughs as they gave him space, sharing looks of pride with one another overhead. “Canus, your laugh is so cute!”

“He’s adorable, huh? For someone so knightly.” Ignis snickered in agreement. “Don’t you think, Misyr?...Misyr?”

The purple haired demon wasn’t responding, currently doubled over with shaking shoulders. Before Kotone could ask what was wrong, he bursted into snickery laughs.

“Gehahahhaha! C-Cahahhanus, dohohohn’t! Noohohoho fahhahahair!” He cried, his own hands latched onto the Knights as he got his revenge. “Nohohohohoho!”

“I told you what would happen if you did this. Now you must accept the consequences.” Canus growled, his tone playful. His flames turned to Ignis and Kotone standing by, flickering with interest. “Ignis…Kotone…”

“Oh hell no! Not happening- run, Kotone!” Ignis cried, grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder before taking off running. The cafe owner could only squeal in surprise before laughing, hanging on as Ignis took her from the shop. On the way out, they passed a surprised Rindo.

“What-” He began.

“RUN!” Ignis yelled out, unable to fight down the laugh. “Just run!”

“We’re fine!” Kotone called, giggling when she saw Canus round the doors. “Bye Mister Rindo!”

They could only avoid their fate for so long, but Kotone had a great time all the same.

Thanks for reading!

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[kingsoowolves]

birthday boy | hsh

pairing: idol boyfriend!seunghan x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

author's note: idk if any of you know it, but Seunghan is actually my first bias in riize. since his hiatus, i miss him so much and each day that passes without his presence in the group, i want him to come back even more. i know there's a bunch of ot6 briizes and i honestly don't really care who everyone chooses to stan. we're all different and have different tastes and likings, i get it. but i'm still holding out hope for him to comeback and that feeling won't die down untill i see his beautiful smile while he's on a stage along with his members again. this work is to showcase my love for him, nothing else. and also for all the ot7 briizes and hongjjangus that miss him just as much as me. i hope you like it, babes 🐈‍⬛🫧🧡

contents: established relationship, aged up!seunghan. mentions of riize members. set in the future, on seunghan's 25th birthday. he is active in the group and riize has been in the scene for a few years. smut and fluff. seunghan wants to have his cake and eat it too, lol. fingering, sex in the shower. sex without protection, cumming inside (don't be like them).

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you’d like

Seunghan is needy and dramatic towards you on a daily basis. But on his birthday, it always gets worse.

He ends every request with a “Please? It’s my birthday”, pulls you to sit on his lap every chance he gets and asks for smooches and attention each half an hour that passes by. It’s adorable and charming, and you always find yourself a willing victim to his whims, kissing and hugging him whenever he desires.

However, in times like this, when you’re rushing to get everything done for the small dinner party you’re hosting for his 25th birthday, it does annoy you a little bit. You’re already preoccupied about failing this day for him because the cake wasn’t yet delivered by the bakery and you only remembered to put the wine inside the freezer twenty minutes ago. At least, there’s still forty minutes left until the time you set for his members to show up and you hope that the wine is cold by then and the cake is inside your fridge.

You’re thinking about all of this while you’re finishing setting the fancy cutlery on the table. Seunghan should be checking on the lasagna inside the oven, but instead he catches you midway through your task, rubbing his chest on your back and his hands on your hips as he starts to place kisses on the side of your neck.

“Babe, the lasagna,” you warn.

“I just checked it. It’s still cooking,” he whispers over the wetness his spit gathered on your skin, making you shiver. He runs his nose from the side of your throat to your ear. “You smell so freaking good.”

“No, I don’t,” you say, closing your eyes, letting your body sag a little against his and reaching a hand back to his neck, keeping his face still on your neck while he resumes peppering kisses on your skin. “I still haven’t showered.”

“You always smell good for me, baby,” he says before nipping your earlobe. You can’t help but sigh from the attention he’s giving you. “And I can help you shower.”

His obvious naughty intentions make you open your eyes and spin around, your hands going to his chest to push him slightly away from you.

“No way,” you shake your head. “I know you’ll be distracting me and not helping at all. Plus, you’re already ready and someone needs to answer the delivery truck when they bring the cake.”

Seunghan gives you his best puppy look and steps closer to you again, his hands going around you to encircle your waist. “Baby, please,” he whines. “We spent the whole day organizing this place. I haven’t been able to fuck you yet and it’s my birthday.”

You chuckle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest and squeezing his cheeks. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before hosting a dinner party at our place, birthday boy.”

He whines again, pressing his forehead on yours whilst his agile fingers start bunching up the skirt of your old saggy dress, one hand pressing on the underside of your left thigh as if he’s preparing to lift you over the table. “I could just slide right in like this. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“No, Seunghan,” you say, voice firm and serious. He gives you a defeated look and steps back, his hands dropping to his sides. “I’m sorry, baby. But we’re already late as it is. We can do all the shenanigans you want later, okay?”

You get on your tiptoes and press your hands on his shoulders to drop a quick peck to his lips, but Seunghan holds you there, his fingers closing on the back of your neck to turn the kiss into a heated one. You wrap your hands around his neck to give him a little taste of what he’s been craving, letting him kiss you the way he wants, his tongue licking up every crevice of your mouth. When he pulls back, you have to blink your eyes open to wake up your hazy mind.

“Okay,” he whispers, a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips as he watches the reaction only one really good kiss pulled out of you. “Go get ready.”

You gulp and nod your head. “Finish setting the table up for me, please? And don’t forget about the lasagna, too. Oh, and–”

“And the cake should be delivered any minute,” he completes for you. “I know, baby, I know. Now go get yourself prettier for my day.”

You nod again, giving him one last peck on his lips and finally turning around. Seunghan takes the moment to pat your butt lightly and you laugh back at him while you walk to your bedroom. After getting to the en suite bathroom, you turn the water to the temperature you like and hastily slip out of your clothes. You sigh when you step into the shower and the warm water hits your head and shoulders, massaging the knots on the back of your neck.

After you shampoo your hair and begin to cover yourself in soap, you hear the door to the bathroom open up and spin around to see Seunghan a few meters away from the glass enclosure separating you both, his fingers quickly removing his denim jacket and tugging his black t-shirt up.

“Seunghan, no!” You exclaim, watching him slide the shirt out of his body and dropping it on the floor along with your clothes. “I told you, I–”

“Babe, I already turned off the oven and put the lasagna to rest on the counter. I also texted the guys saying they should come an hour later,” he explains, moving his hands to his belt buckle to unfasten it and then zipping down the fly on his pants. “Wonbin hyung agreed to pick up the cake. Already let the bakery know it, too.”

You open your mouth at him in shock and your pink sponge falls from your hand onto the shower tiles. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.” Seunghan laughs at you and resumes taking his jeans off, his briefs going sliding down his legs along with it. He steps out of the fabric and his semi-hard cock springs free, the head of it slapping along his thigh. You bite your bottom lip whilst he slides the shower door open just enough for you to see him in all his glory, perfect body exposed bare right in front of your eyes. “So what it’s gonna be, baby? Are we going to fuck or do you prefer to keep pretending you don’t want this as much as I do?”

“Come in,” you say through gritted teeth and he laughs again, stepping inside and sliding the glass door back on its place. You wind your arms around his shoulders and press yourself against him. “You’re a pain in my ass, Hong Seunghan. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, and you love me,” he mutters while he holds you, splaying both of his hands on your ass.

“Unfortunately, I do,” you whisper back, pulling him in for a kiss.

Seunghan’s lips have always been addictive to you. You love how full and beautiful they are, how his smiles come easily when he quirks the sides of them up just a bit and especially how soft and moist they become while he’s kissing you. You always get lost in the feeling, biting on his bottom lip and drawing pretty sounds out of him. You’re so lost in him at this moment that you don’t even notice how his hands snake down your body, gripping on your flesh until his fingers find the place in between your legs.

He spreads you open with his fingers and you moan, your lips disconnecting with his. He laughs darkly as his forefinger rubs on your clit and you hold onto his shoulders for stability.

“You tried to deny me like that but yet you get this wet from just a few kisses?” He says while he watches your face contorting in pleasure.

“I was trying to be responsible,” you reply, trying to keep your moaning to a minimum while it’s still so early in the game. “Instead of you, who only thinks with your dick.”

Seunghan smiles, fingers massaging over your hole and trying to coax louder moans out of you. “That’s just your effect on me, sweetheart. I can’t help it.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a horndo–” You get cut off because of course Seunghan chooses that exact moment to insert two of his fingers inside of you, making the words on your lips turn into a groan and your head loll back.

“What were you saying, baby?” He asks slyly over your exposed neck, pumping his fingers in and out of you with precision. How can he be so fucking good at this?

You gulp down the saliva that collects in your throat and scrunch your eyes while you bask in the feeling of him pleasuring you. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he replies with a smile, moving you to press your back against the bathroom wall and reaching down to wrap a hand around one of your thighs, hooking it up around his waist. You press the arch of your foot on his ass to pull him closer to you and soon enough his dick is pressed in between your bodies and he’s rutting on your lower belly. “That’s it, such a good girl for me.”

You move your hand down to cover his pretty cock, pumping him in your fist the best you can while Seunghan distracts you by scissoring his fingers inside your cunt. You try to look down to see what you’re doing, but Seunghan’s head eclipses your visions when he starts dropping kisses on the valley of your breasts. His lips move to one of your perk nipples and you moan out loud when he sucks it into his mouth, flicking the bud with his tongue. Your pace falters on his length and he pulls your hand away from it to intertwine your fingers together, resting them on the coldness of the bathroom tiles beside your head.

“Hani, it’s your birthday,” you say, and he looks up at you with your boob still inside his mouth. “I should be the one pleasuring you.”

He releases your nipple with a pop, then sinks his teeth on the flesh of your other breast. “But you are pleasuring me, baby. Doing whatever I want with you is all I need.”

You sigh when he licks over your neglected nipple, his tongue tracing around the areola over and over again until he gets tired of it and suctions on that one, too. He keeps the unrelenting pace of his fingers inside of you and moves his thumb up your clit again to rub on it.

“But I want to do more for you,” you whisper, starting to thrust your hips up against his hand. Your head already feels dizzy and your vision starts to get hazy with how much he’s overwhelming your senses. You feel that any moment now you might snap.

Seunghan releases his nipple from your mouth t at the same moment the revolutions down your clit get faster, and you can’t stop your moans from echoing around the restroom anymore while he kisses his way up to your lips again.

“Then you can suck me off after dinner, okay?” He mutters, his natural foxy eyes glinting at you and his mouth drinking up your sounds. “You’re close, right?”

“So close, Hani,” you cry out, gripping his hand tightly on yours and tugging on his hair with your other one.

He smiles at you and presses his lips to yours two times. Then, he mutters, “Cum for me now, pretty girl.”

It’s ridiculous that that’s all it takes to get you there. But either way, your orgasm washes over you, the tingling forming in your belly spreading through your limbs and head while your walls convulse around Seunghan’s fingers. He still keeps his work in your pussy while you scream and drop your lips to bite on his neck to give you something to do.

“That’s it, my love. You look so pretty when you fall apart. I want to watch this for the rest of my life,” he whispers in your ear while you sink your teeth on his flesh.

Once there’s no energy left in your body and you’re babbling incoherently on his skin, he slides his hand up to lift your chin and press your head back on the wall. His fingers wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth and you smell your juices on them, your tongue instinctively darting out to lick at them.

“Shit, baby, you got me so hard already,” he heaves while you suck his digits into your mouth, limp hand searching for his cock again. “There’s no need for that.”

You only release his fingers from your mouth after pressing little kisses on the tips of each one, then you smile at him and wrap your hand around his dick, slapping it against your folds to share your wetness and his precum with each other. “You’re going to fuck me now, birthday boy?”

“Are you up for it already?” He asks, trying to convey worry through his little groans and expletives. “I don’t wanna do too much too soon.”

“I don’t care, you can overstimulate me all you want,” you reply back, hitting his dick on your clit to show him that you’re serious. “I just need your dick inside me, Hani.”

“Fuck yeah,” he groans at both your words and how you guide his dick to your entrance, your cunt sucking his fat head inside. “I’ll fuck you dumb, baby.”

“Be my guest,” you moan back, feeling him slide all the way in one go and bottoming out, your walls stretching to accommodate his heavy girth inside.

Seunghan slides out and inside of you slowly only three times. Then he sets a merciless rhythm, hitting you with smooth, fast and hard thrusts. You wrap your other leg around him and he holds you up with his strong legs and arms, hands grasping your back and ass cheeks. You tug on his hair, kiss his cheeks, nip on his lips and suck on his neck and chest while he keeps fucking you through it all. The wet sounds of his dick fleetly moving in and out of your cunt and your skin slapping together bounce around the walls, becoming the back tracking for the harmony of moans you voice out together.

He doesn’t falter for a minute, not even when you reach down to squeeze his balls. Instead of easing down his flow, he spreads one of your legs apart, securing it to the wall behind you while he scrunches his nose and gazes down to watch how your cunt clutches to his cock every time he pulls back and your hand fondles his testicles.

Seunghan is giving you his everything. Hoisting you up, holding you together, pining you to the wall and fucking you deliciously. Ruining you. His arms bulge and his legs flex while he does it and you can see sweat forming on his forehead. The water still falling from the shower hits his shoulder blades and splash warm droplets on your skins and the shower doors, like it’s painting freckles on the scene, covering you both in the marks of your lovemaking.

You think he never looked as beautiful as he does right now.

“Seunghan,” you call for him and he looks at you with lust and love swimming inside his eyes. You run a hand over the fringe that falls on his forehead, slicking it back and then rubbing your fingers on his cheek bone. Handsome as hell. You can’t quite believe this man is all yours. “I’m close. I want you to cum inside, okay?”

He nods fervently and presses kisses on your hand that’s still on his face. “Yeah, baby, you got it,” he says, his voice faltering slightly.

Just then he slows down the drive of his hips, moving his legs and balancing himself again in between your thighs until he finds the new angle he’s searching for. Your breath hitches when it seems like he slides even deeper inside your pussy. The head of his cock starts to hit that amazing spongy spot inside you and he smiles victoriously when you’re reduced to a blubbering mess. When his thumb rubs on your clit, joining his dick in his effort to make you mad, you’re done for.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut. Your legs tremble and you try to hold it together, but your peak is coming at you faster and faster. “Baby, I think I’m gonna– I’m cum–”

You’re interrupted by Seunghan’s lips crashing on yours and his tongue being shoved inside your mouth. Your orgasm rips through your body like an out-of-control train flying off its tracks. It’s brisk and powerful, leaving your heart racing and your breath short, your mouth hanging open while you moan your boyfriend’s name until your voice feels raw.

“That’s it, baby. That’s a good girl, cumming all over my cock,” Seunghan says, his eyes locking on yours when your jaw clenches. “I’m right behind you, baby. Going to give you my cum now.”

“I want it, Hani, please do it,” you request with a hoarse voice, fighting your words out through the soreness in your throat.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, his hips jerking and stuttering, his cock swelling up and twitching inside you. “Yeah, fucking take it, baby.”

He spills inside your cunt and you moan deeply one more time before he slumps against you, his forehead pressing on your shoulder while your pussy milks him dry. He’s still holding you up, but the hand that was pining your thigh to the wall is now limp, and you move your leg back to wrap around him, tightening your hold of him to keep him inside you as long as possible.

Seunghan moans some more in your ear and you press reassuring kisses on the moles over his shoulders while you both calm down and catch your breaths. When you feel his gasps mellowing out, you press your fingers on his nape and pull his head back to look into his eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper and he gives you the sweetest smile ever, the lines around his eyes cracking and his whisker dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Happy birthday, Hani.”

He hums happily and rests his forehead on yours, dropping five consecutive pecks on your mouth. “Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say, pressing your lips on his to give him a full kiss. He responds eagerly, tongue stroking yours and hands sliding to the back of your thighs to kee you up.

You feel his dick stirring inside you again when he pulls back and says, “You think we can go for round two before the guys show up?”

You laugh incredulously at him and unwrap your legs from his body, pushing on his shoulders until he pulls out of you. He whimpers pathetically at the loss of contact and you lift a finger to shut him up.

“Don’t you start, Hong Seunghan,” you admonish him.

He just pouts and catches your finger with his hand, puts it inside of his mouth and starts to suck on it, looking at you wickedly as he does so, all that while his cum starts to seep out of you. Your breath hitches at the scene and because his remnants now sticking to your thighs. But you keep your cool, withdrawing your finger from between his lips until it’s out with a pop. You give his chest a slap and then turn, moving to stand under the shower head to clean yourself.

However, before you can get the soap on your body, his arms are around you again and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I’ll be quick, baby. Please, it’s my birthday.”

You roll your eyes at him. He’s insatiable. And he’s definitely going to be late for his own birthday party.

happy birthday, hani, i love you! If you liked this work, consider sharing your thoughts with me on the comments or my ask box. thanks for reading! 🧡

[disasterbuck]

Oohhh for the prompts I'd love to see Buddie with the sidewalk rule 👀🥰

I'm so glad you chose the sidewalk rule because I had an idea for that one right after I reblogged the prompt post 😂

I hope you like it!! 💕

the sidewalk rule

established Buddie | 645 words

Buck was chatting away, his hands waving this way and that, and Eddie had a smile on his face as he walked beside him. They'd decided to walk down to the coffee shop on the corner of Buck's street together, to treat themselves after their long shift before Eddie had to leave to pick Chris up from school.

As he talked, Buck walked backwards in front of Eddie for a few steps before ending up on his other side.

"—and then it was introduced to England in like, the late 1700s," Buck was saying. How he'd gotten started on the history of dominoes, Eddie didn't know, but he definitely wasn't complaining. He could happily listen to Buck talk for hours about anything. "And it was all over the world by 1889! And although it originated in China, it's now way more popular in France and Belgium."

"And the Buckley-Diaz household," Eddie chimed in with a wink, referring to the set of dominoes Buck and Chris had been playing with for the past three weeks and making Buck blush.

While he was briefly distracted, Eddie gently took hold of Buck's wrist and guided him to the other side so that he was back on Eddie's left and Eddie was walking beside the road.

Buck frowned, then just continued talking about dominoes. But a few steps later, he cut across Eddie's path with a little spin so that he was back on Eddie's right.

With a scowl, Eddie stepped behind him and to the side, forcing Buck left. A giggle left Buck's lips and he ducked in to kiss Eddie quickly, distracting him, before taking the spot on the right again.

"Would you stop?" Eddie exclaimed, coming to a halt.

"Stop what?" Buck asked innocently, a bright grin on his face.

"You know what," Eddie said with a sigh. "Stop swapping sides!"

"Why?" Buck asked, a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

"Because…" Eddie trailed off, feeling his face grow warm with embarrassment. A particularly fast car sped past and he automatically reached out to grab Buck's arm, pulling him further away from the road.

"I didn't know you knew the sidewalk rule," Buck teased.

"The what?" Eddie asked, baffled.

"The sidewalk rule," Buck repeated, as if saying it again would bring any further insight. Thankfully, seeing Eddie's face, he went on – "It's the idea that your boyfriend should walk on the side closest to the road to keep you safe from any hazards."

"I have never heard of that in my life," Eddie said, mouth twisting slightly in disgust. "It sounds misogynistic. And besides, we're both the boyfriend in this relationship."

"Sure," Buck said easily, giving a one-shoulder shrug. "But then, why exactly don't you want me walking on this side?"

Eddie slid his hand down to Buck's, twisting their fingers together. He didn't want to tell Buck the truth; he didn't want Buck's bright and happy mood to be brought down. But…

"Because of Shannon," he said softly. "Because she… I know it doesn't make sense. We're in way more dangerous situations every day. And she wasn't on a sidewalk but on a crossing, so it was different—"

"Hey." Buck stepped right up into his space, cupping his face with his hands. "It's okay. It makes sense to me. If you want me to walk on the other side, I will."

"I do," Eddie admitted.

"Then I will," Buck said. Closing the distance between them, Buck kissed him softly and earnestly.

When they parted, Eddie was surprised to find that Buck had somehow turned them during the kiss without him noticing. He was once again standing between Buck and the road.

"Come on," Buck said, taking Eddie's hand in his and pulling him along the path.

Content, Eddie gently squeezed Buck's hand and listened as he went back to discussing the history of dominoes.

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Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💕

[demaparbat-hp]

For the Spirits—

Chapter IV: To Be Human.

To feel like crying, but say you're fine

To think you're losing all the time

To never truly know your mind

Just to breathe, and to bleed

Is how to be human

—How To Be Human by Amber Run

.

The Painted Lady hummed, “I was beginning to think you’d pretend I wasn’t here.”

“Are you?” he muttered, leaning over the rail. She tilted her head.

“Am I what?”

Zuko turned to face her.

“Here.”

[fatuismooches]

NOOOO NOT MY SON😭😭😭😭😭 I'M LITERALLY CRYING. WE NEED THE NEXT PART IN WHICH HE WILL BE ALIVE.😡

*hugs you* I'M SORRY!!! 😭😭💖 HE'S OKAY I PROMISE!!! WE'RE IGNORING THE CANON FR!!! Zandy's alive, Reader brought him to Sumeru, he actually made friends and played with the Aranara, Dottie slowly learns how to be a father, life is good for our son. 🙏

[elvenbeard]

Not Yet

Just a random little scene that might wanna still write out in full in the future. Angst, what angst? I would never...

100% blame @humberg for the wonderful upcoming poses fueling me with angsty thoughts and scenarios 💜

[mikichko]

i keep forgetting simon is fucking 6'4 and not some fucking itty bitty boy. can you imagine how scared zach was when he saw him? he probably burst into tears the moment they walked into the room

[hermitw]

Life is an etch-a-sketch and baby, I'm an abortion

[sysig]

Big day for the Sims 2

[galacticlamps]

actually ascension needs its own post since that's the one with the most details to speculate over and im starved for soho talk so i will talk to myself if need be

First the cover again, because I kinda can't get over it:

my only thing is that I had been hoping we might get Lizbeth on a cover again since she's never been on one of the boxsets before, despite being the 2nd person credited on all 4 of them (even if that's just alphabetical, still, she's the only one of the four main characters who never makes the cover)

But letting that go...

I know we already kinda knew the brief for this one but damn I didn't expect it to go quite this hard. Maybe that's just because the Parasite & Ashenden covers were (comparatively) similarish to each other and I was so pleased with Unbegotten's, and then got so used to it as the placeholder for Ascension while they kept postponing it, I wasn't expecting anything this colorful or detailed or with what I can't help but register as Fun New Outfits even though these are still like, pretty damn basic as far as costumes go. Still, it's a different vibe from everyone in suits and trenchcoats on every cover, technically. (Oh the woes of being an audio fan such that two characters owning sweaters actually does qualify as new information)

On top of just being visually delightful though, I know we knew religion was gonna be a fairly big part of this one, but I didn't actually expect to get quite this much of it - though I'm glad of it for a number of reasons. The BF twitter already made the ineffable joke so I don't have to, but also yeah I did very much spend all of season 2 episode 4 of good omens half convinced Samuel Barnett & Dervla Kirwan were about to pop up around any given corner (if you will go around being gay supernatural and horrible at your messy bureaucratic jobs in midcentury soho then I'm sorry, this is where my brain's gonna go) - so, fuel to that fire. But in terms of actual important things, at least one of my Soho wishes looks to be being granted because we have a Rev Edward Folgate on the cast list, which must mean we're finally meeting Norton's father, even if his mother & brother don't appear (which they could, technically, I've definitely seen BF not list all the doublings on their cast tabs before). Religion, domesticity, and the nuclear family are all things that absolutely fascinate me when it comes to Norton's character, so getting any amount of story involving his father & his church is something I've been actively hoping for for a long time now.

(I will say I'm a tiny bit bummed Saffron Coomber isn't on the cast list to play Mia again, but I kinda figured she wasn't going to be since Greg Austin's Armitage, who's making his first recurring appearance after originating in Unbegotten, was listed ever since the boxset was announced - presumably if she was also returning, that would've been handled in the same way. But since Unbegotten ended with Lizbeth and Mia going on a date, I still held out hope. Who knows though, maybe things did go well for them and Lizbeth just has a better work/life balance than Norton so she can date someone without them getting dragged into every scifi plot. I know that's not a very common accomplishment for any Torchwood agent, but a gal can hope)

At this point I know I'm completely in the realm of speculation & even wishful thinking, but I'm really really hoping we get some more clues as to Norton's overall timeline in this one, and I have a feeling that even if there's nothing as direct as dates given, the events of a plot like this one are going to heavily influence my personal interpretation of it.

To say that life & death are major themes for the soho crew feels wildly reductive, but even by Torchwood's standards and taking into account its origins as a piece of media with Jack Harkness & his newfound immortality at the heart of it, the living/dead status of this bunch has always been fantastically up in the air to me. Obviously Ghost Mission introduced Norton as kind of a ghost before revealing more obvious ghostly characters later on to which the title might have been referring, but his being from the past did beg the question of his survival into Torchwood's present era all the same, which Outbreak later alludes to much more directly, and his habit of showing up via hologram in multiple stories only further obfuscates any certainty we might have about where & when he definitely can be said to be alive and well. Then you've got Lizbeth and Gideon both being effectively 'brought back to life' via paradoxes that prevented them ever having died in the first place. Again, they are very very far from being the only Torcwhood characters this happens to (for a sprawling EU, it's really rather impressive how often & in how many different ways Torchwood as a whole manages to circle back to being about like. chaotic undead queers at the end of every day. though I suppose that consistency is part of why I keep falling in love with its different iterations again and again). That's without even getting into the question of Norton's dubious fate in God Among Us - and I say dubious because I know some people take that to be his ultimate death, but I personally think that reading something as vague as that as having any kind of finality rather goes against the spirit of this whole world/series, not just because I want him to live. (There are obviously other ways to make him survive/reappear, but I don't see this as a River Song scenario where we can safely assume one of his earlier-released adventures had to happen at the end of his personal timeline). But wherever God Among Us falls for him, he does very much meet God in it - or at least, a god, since the sentinel in Unbegotten is also described as a god of sorts, and even if he doesn't ultimately have the status of the god Jacqueline King is playing there, Unbegotten is still full to bursting with ghosts/undead/came back wrong/echo characters to continue underscoring that life/afterlife theme.

So all things considered, even allowing for the fact that we know Norton's twin hobbies are lying about himself and abusing time travel to suit his own ends/ever-shifting alliances, I find it difficult to believe we could get through a whole 6-part boxset about religion & death without something providing some kind of compelling evidence about where this adventure fits in among his other run-ins with apocalypses and gods and ghosts and dead-but-still-here characters/creatures, so I'm very much looking forward to any further exploration on that front.

And lastly, and least intellectually, I really want to know what the hell 20th-century Torchwood's obsession with Reginalds is. Reading through the cast list, I had to do two separate doubletakes over the character 'Sir Reginald Peebles' - firstly, because I had Reginald Rigsby on the brain, this being Soho (and the other Troughton brother being so active on BF's releases for this same month) - and secondly, because reading this in conjunction with the announcement for the July monthly adventure in which the new main Torchwood guy of the 20s is apparently called Sir Reginald Dellafield, there was a brief moment where I took that monthly release to be a tie-in with Ascension. I don't expect it to be, but damn. was it really so popular a name?

anyways, catch me thinking about those stained glass windows for the next couple months I guess (and knowing Torchwood Soho, for a long long time after it comes out as well lol)

[giggly-squiggily]

Hey, this is the same anon who requested the third years! If someone else offers something up for the Haikyuu slots or if you’re not comfortable with/don’t want this request, please feel free to decline! If the headcanons requests are still open, may I suggest/request: Haikyuu, one of the forms of team bonding is playing little tickle games and one time the first year boys challenged the third year boys to the arms up after the third years were claiming they could last way longer than the first years just did. If you want it narrowed down to just two, maybe Yamaguchi and Suga? All the karasuno team are friends your honor.

Headcanons To Dabbles: Officially CLOSED!

Hey friend! :D Good to hear from you again! :D This is super cute, and I'm more than happy to write this! I've gotcha covered! :D

It started as a casual comment.

“I bet we could beat the third years in a tickle battle.” Hinata smiled, fully aware of said trio sitting a few feet away.

What followed was controlled chaos.

~~~

“Ready…go!” Tanaka called, hitting the timer. Suga puffed his cheeks almost immediately when he felt fingers dig into his ribs, Yamaguchi’s touch light and skittery. It was the last chance to secure a victory for the third years- Daichi had won his round with a solid 20 seconds while Asahi failed after five. He had to beat 18 seconds in order to snatch the win.

The problem was he was rather sensitive to light tickles- something Yamaguchi seemed to excel in.

“Oo, look at that! He’s already starting to craaaack~” Hinata cooed in delight, pointing at Suga’s reddening cheeks. “Give in, Suga!”

“Don’t listen to them, Suga! Hang in there!” Daichi encouraged. “Focus on not reacting! Pretend he isn’t there!”

“Yeah, pretend Yamaguchi isn’t getting closer and closer to your armpits, seconds away from digging in and making you squeal like a baby.” Tsukishima smirked, eyes glittering when he saw Suga’s struggles increase. Yama, taking the hint, slowly began his ascent upward.

“Pfft-Pffuhuhuuhuuhuhuhft!” Suga puffed out a few giggles, fighting for his life to keep his arms up and out of the way, even as Yamaguchi brushed the cuffs of his t-shirt, hovering centimeters above his pits. “N-No! I woohoohn’t give up!” He was determined to win. “T-Tihiihihme?”

No number was given- or at least; none he could hear before Yamaguchi’s hands dug into his pits, making him squeal and shoot his arms down. “Ahehahahhahahahaha! Whahahhahait, wahhahahahaht-gheahahahahahhahahaha!”

“17 seconds! Ah, so close!” Tanaka announced, laughing as he watched Suga squeal and squirm all over the place, Yamaguchi following closely. “The winner of the first Bi-monthly tickle fight is the first years!”

Hinata and Kageyama whooped, slapping palms as Tsukishima smirked. Yamaguchi, feeling merciful, pulled his hands back with a cheer. “We won! What…what did we win?”

“A free pass to “Tickle Monster Island!” Daichi roared, wrapping his arms around Hinata and Kageyama, digging into their bellies and earning loud squeals. “Asahi, grab the others!”

“Wahahhahait! Whahahhait, no fahhahahhahhhahahair!” Hinata cackled out, his voice lost in the sounds of the rest of first year’s giggle fits as Asahi and Suga grabbed them, making short work of their tickle spots.

“Ahh, how I love team bonding days.” Tanaka sighed before putting his phone away, lunging at the nearest body.

[whichwoods]

I need LSTS!Aemond crying over the news (if he doesn’t I better see tears at least once in this story) I need this man mellowed tf out

"mellowed tf out" LMAO 😭 luke agrees with you on that!

[libraryofgage]

I hope you don't mind but I wrote a little something lol

Also please ignore typos hfjkds

---

Eddie is driving, of course. He'd drive everyone crazy with his fidgeting if he didn't. He's still fidgeting a little, his fingers tapping the wheel along to the music in his head instead of what's playing on the radio. His left leg is bouncing, barely brushing the bottom of the wheel. His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, the copper-taste of blood creeping into his mouth.

He should have noticed sooner. He should have realized what was happening long before....well...

Before Dustin's frantic phone call and Robin's shaking video call and the group chat that had been collecting dust for the past three years (last used to plan a virtual birthday party for Steve that eventually fell through because of life, which leaves a bad taste in Eddie's mouth even now).

And now he can't stop thinking about it, about his text chat with Steve being untouched for three months. He wasn't even the one who sent the last message. That had been Steve, congratulating him on another tour and asking how the newest album was coming along. Eddie had meant to answer, but he got distracted and it slipped his mind and and and

And nothing. How many times did he see a funny animal and think of texting Steve about it? How many times did he almost send Steve a meme? How many times did he find himself working on that damn album, staring down the lyrics of the title track of an album dedicated to Steve in his heart (like he didn't always dedicate them to Steve and Wayne in his heart anyway), thinking about Steve and his hazel eyes and sunny smile and those two freckles on his cheek?

And now? Now Steve has been radio silent for a month, not even talking to Robin or Dustin for four weeks.

And that's a problem.

"He could be dead," Erica says from the last row of the van, her voice clipped and cold as Eddie's hands tighten on the wheel.

"Don't say that," Dustin hisses.

"We're all thinking it, and if we don't talk about it now, we won't know what to do if it's true."

She's right, of course. Erica is always right, especially when it really hurts. Eddie forces himself to take a deep breath as they pass the sign welcoming them to Hawkins. The sun is slipping below the treetops now, casting shadows and orange light across the road as Eddie forces his foot off the gas pedal so they don't get pulled over.

When Eddie left Hawkins, he never looked back. He chased after a future that nearly escaped him with such single-minded focus that he barely remembers the drive out of his hometown. But he does remember that it didn't look like this.

Hawkins always had a few farms and homes on the outskirts, people who wanted to be surrounded by forest or make a living on pumpkins. When Eddie left, those houses had been lived in; bikes were haphazardly left strewn across lawns, fields of crops were carefully tended, people sat on porches with sweating glasses of lemonade and iced tea in their hands, and lights streamed out from the windows.

Now, those houses and fields are in an unbelievable state of disrepair. Some have smashed windows, the fields of crops are dug up and wildly overgrown, and every single house is dark. If he weren't so sure this was his dimension, Eddie would wonder if they'd somehow driven into the Upside Down when they crossed the town line.

"Uh, that's weird, right?" Dustin asks, nose practically plastered to the window as the town passes by.

Every building is dark. The sun hasn't even properly set, but the streets are empty and the town is dead. It's eerie, sends shivers down Eddie's back, makes his hair stand on end. His jaw clenches, his grip on the wheel tightens, and he tries his damnedest to not imagine the worst case scenario.

He doesn't have to hold off for long as he turns down a residential street. Before his brain can force images of demogorgons attacking Steve to the forefront, an actual demogorgon rushes from behind a house ahead of them, petal-mouth flared wide and teeth on display as its roar forces something Eddie had once buried to flare to life.

Amid the screams from the back and Robin suddenly grabbing the wheel and jerking it to the side so avoid the demogorgon, Eddie somehow remembers to slam his foot on the brakes. The tires squeal painfully, the car drifting sharply and perfectly angling them to face the demogorgon head-on.

Eddie's throat is straining, and he doesn't know why until he realizes he's also screaming. His heart is pounding against his ribs, and his brain has started chugging into over drive. How is he going to get the kids out? How is he going to get Robin out? Who's going to tell his bandmates and his agent that he fucking died the one time he visited Hawkins?

And then he notices a figure (a boy, achingly familiar) sprinting out from behind another house, sliding between the car and the demogorgon, bat raised and swinging with ease. It catches the demogorgon in the stomach, tearing through skin and muscle and sending it sliding back a few precious inches. A shot rings out a second later, the demogorgon's head jerking back. A second shot follows, and the demogorgon's head explods, viscera and a few teeth splashing across the windshield.

The boy with the bat, wipes away some of the gore, turns to another house, and waves a hand. Eddie is already rolling down the window, getting it open just in time to hear the other shout, "Thanks, Ms. Dithers! I'll see you on Sunday for book club!"

Eddie follows the direction of the wave to see an older woman in the upstairs window of a house. Her hair is gray, her glasses are huge, she's wearing a nightgown, and she's reloading a shotgun as she smiles. "Don't mention it, Steve, dear. You'd better bring those Savannah bars again, or I won't be letting you in the door!" she calls back, waving kindly at Steve.

With one more wave, Steve turns to the car. He locks eyes with Eddie first, and Eddie gets the joy of seeing them light up, Steve's whole demeanor suddenly shifting into something bright and happy as he hurries over to the open window. "Hey, guys!" he says, "What brought you down? How come you didn't call ahead? I'd've told you about the curfew."

He leans on the door like it's easy, like he isn't a breath of fresh air Eddie didn't even know he needed. He smiles just as easily, and Eddie is breathless. He definitely couldn't speak for the fucking life of him.

"You didn't answer your fucking phone, dingus!" Robin shouts, barely managing to get her seatbelt off before she's launching herself out of the car. She jumps the hood in a moment of unprecedented grace and crashes into Steve's arms.

She spurs everyone into action, like she made them realize Steve is real and alive. The car shakes as everyone else piles out, surrounding Steve and pushing until he's forced to take a step back before he trips. Despite that, Steve looks...overjoyed.

Eddie tries to be a little calmer as he exits the car, desperately hoping his hands aren't shaking like he thinks they are. He can feel himself on a precipice of something. He's teetering over the edge of a cliff he can't name; or, well, a cliff he doesn't want to name.

And then Steve meets his eyes again, and Eddie is lost in hazel. He's doomed by freckles and sun-kissed skin and a smile that's just for him. He's trapped by warm hands pulling him into a hug, the subtle smell of hairspray, the inescapable stream of Steve, Steve, Steve coursing through his brain.

How the fuck is Eddie supposed to walk away again after this?

okay but a like post-series fic i want that's like: steve harrington being the only man left in hawkins fighting monsters

and not like a 'everyone died, last man standing' way but just. they beat it back, the story ends, nice little tie-up and neatly concluded, eleven loses her powers because their world is completely cut from the other. and life goes on. eddie (yes, eddie lives au don't fight me) goes off with his band, robin-nancy-jargyle off to separate cities for college. the kids go to high school, graduate high school, and scatter across the country. joyce and hop buy a beach house far-far-far away from goddamn hawkins indiana.

steve though. steve stays. he does it too without comment, takes all their calls telling him all these amazing things. the years pass. the calls are fewer and far between. he's mostly in contact with only dustin and robin. except robin's out of country doing some crazy temp job in some remote country, she never catches him at home right now so just leaves him messages. and it takes a couple of weeks for dustin to realize he hasn't gotten steve on the phone.

frantically he calls around "have you heard from steve???" except the most people talk to steve anymore is like phone calls during holidays and holy shit what could have happened??

and what if it's back?

cue everyone who can in that moment, rushing back. eddie hopping on a flight from fucking london direct to indianapolis somehow, heart in his throat. he manages to meet hopper in the airport and they pick up max and dustin at the bus station.

they get to hawkins that is even more different that what they left. a smaller town, a town that shuts down completely when the sun sets. it's creepy and deserted.

except for the fucking upside down monsters of course.

and they're in their stupid little rental in front of this demogorgon and they're screaming but then the thing just goes splat on the concrete and steve fucking harrington is blinking owlishly at them.

"Oh, hey guys!" he calls jogging up to the driver's side window. "Wow, what brought you back down this way? You should have told me, I would have told you about the curfew!"

turns out steve just forgot to pay his phone bill that month, didn't even realize he was missing calls and he's been fighting monsters the entire time because actually they WEREN'T cut off from the upside down at all and he's just been casually fighting monsters for the remaining hawkins residence—the whole town knows now and steve's the guy you call when you have a monster problem

sidebar: WAYNE still lives in hawkins, and he and steve are best friends, eddie munson you are gonna LOSE YOUR MIND

[sqoa]

"no, baby, we're going to be late."

sex addict!satoru frowns at your words: he looks like a kicked puppy, denied love from his other half. how will he go on in such a state? achingly hard behind the steering wheel despite having drained his balls into you over the hood of his car before leaving for some important meeting.

you're already late, thanks to the second orgasm satoru insisted on pulling out of you. you made a mess of his car, and you worry you're messing the leather seats, what with the heinous amount of his cum leaking out of you. you glance over to satoru's pocket, where a little bit of lace hangs out: he had pocketed your panties despite your whining protests.

and he had made you cum a third time on his fingers as he drove with one hand.

"please," he whines, "i don't even need to cum, baby, just wanna taste you." he's leaning over to kiss your lips, get you hooked on his taste. he's such a liar, you know he'll fuck you dumb with his tongue until you're begging for his cock, too.

"no, satoru."

"i'll.... i'll do that thing you like! with my fingers, you know?" he waves his fingers at you.

"....no."

"babyyy," he whines, and then, as if he's gotten an idea, his face lights up. "i'll let you edge me for a week."

oh. he's good. the image that springs into your head at his words, of him desperate and begging for seven whole days of denial, causes you to squeeze your thighs together. you can't help but think of all the different ways you could tease him, pull the poor boy desperate. he can barely last an hour without draining himself inside of you: a week will ruin him.

"deal."

edging week fic soon :p

[masked-and-doomed]

Weird feeling that I don't like when I think about how much I can't really comprehend Dr Bald. I don't know who he is.