#macks ficlets

[stevethehairington]

i’ve seen so many fics and threads and posts about virgin eddie who comes way too fast the first time he and steve do anything even slightly heavier than some light making out, which i LOVE — don’t get me wrong

but, consider:

virgin eddie who comes way too fast the first time he and steve do anything even slightly heavier than some light making out, who was so focused on trying (and failing) not to come too soon, who is so embarrassed in the aftermath of doing just that, that he doesn’t even realize that steve ended up beating him to the punch.

they’re on the couch in eddie’s trailer. wayne’s out so they have the whole place to themselves.

steve’s sitting with his spine pressed against the back of the couch, and he’s got a lapful of eddie. eddie’s knees are on either side of steve’s thighs, digging in high by the crease of his hip, and he’s poised above steve, holding himself up.

his arms are around steve’s neck, and steve’s are around his waist — low on his waist, as in, almost groping his ass low.

steve’s chin is tilted up and eddie’s is tilted down so their lips can meet in the middle in a heated kiss. a messy kiss. wet and hot and a little bitey at times and a lot overwhelming. steve’s mouth is something else. warm and velvety, sweet and sure. he knows how to use his tongue, and he’s not holding back with it.

eddie’s trying his hardest not to blow his load right then and there.

this is the furthest they’ve gone yet, this high intensity, borderline bump and grind makeout session — because that’s what it is. a borderline bump and grind. 

in this position, eddie’s dick is caught between them, still tucked away in his pants, but trapped between his own body and steve’s abdomen. every time steve shifts, his stomach brushes against the bulge in eddie’s pants, and eddie nearly whines from how good that ghost of a touch feels. he can’t help himself when he rocks forward, just a little, just enough, desperately seeking out that delicious friction. he can feel steve below him, too. the tent in his pants just grazing eddie’s ass every time he moves.

it’s driving him insane, and eddie is seconds away from exploding.

and then — oh, oh shit. fuckingfuckfuckfuck.

eddie explodes. 

far too soon. christ, steve didn’t even get a goddamned hand on him. his pants didn’t even come off — hell, the fly didn’t even get undone!

eddie breaks the kiss and buries his face into steve’s neck, breathing heavily against the soft skin there. hiding his embarrassment where steve can’t see it.

steve, for what it’s worth, doesn’t seem to notice. not at first, anyways. one of his hands slides up eddie’s back, his touch soothing, while the other stays against eddie’s hip. “shit, eddie,” steve breathes into his hair.

when eddie doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move from steve’s neck — that’s when steve notices something’s up.

“eddie?” he asks. “hey, what’s wrong?”

eddie groans. shakes his head. doesn’t move.

“eddie,” steve repeats, drawing his hand back down eddie’s back. “talk to me, come on. what is it? did i do something?”

and jesus, no. steve didn’t do anything but be his perfect, sexy, stupid self.

well. time to face the music.

with another muffled groan, eddie pulls his face from steve’s neck. it’s burning, flaming, so red that he probably matches the blanket spread over the arm of the sofa.

“i fucking— i didn’t fucking last, okay? i shot off like a god damn fucking firecracker in, like, ten seconds flat,  jesus christ.”

he shoves his hands over his face then, not wanting steve to see how embarrassed he is. how fucking humiliated.

only, steve doesn’t laugh. doesn’t tease eddie. he doesn’t even try to console him, either. instead, he curls his fingers around eddie’s wrist and tugs at his hands until he can pull them away from his face. he drags one down to his own crotch. presses eddie’s palm against the front of his shorts and— oh. they’re wet. like he — like steve came in his pants too.

just as quickly as eddie.

oh.

“you know, if you made it ten seconds flat, i must’ve only made it five,” steve tells him, and the thing is — the thing is. he means it. he’s serious about it.

holy fuck.

“you—”

steve nods, before eddie can finish that thought. “yeah,” he says. “i fucking did. because of you. because you’re so fucking hot, eddie. and you were just— just moving that like, right in my lap, and that was just, fuck, way too much — in a good way. in the best way. i just— couldn’t handle it.” 

steve’s cheeks are rosy, like maybe he’s a little embarrassed about it too. but that sparkle in his eye, that smile stretching that pretty mouth of his — he looks pleased. delighted, even. like coming in his pants — eddie making him come in his pants — in less than thirty fucking seconds is the highlight of his god damn day.

what really gets eddie, is that it probably is.

“you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about,” steve promises, reading eddie without him having to even say a thing. “i like it when you ‘shoot off like a god damn firecracker’,” he echoes eddie’s words back to him. “it’s hot. it makes me feel fucking good, eddie.”

“oh,” eddie breathes. he hadn’t considered that.

“besides,” steve says, letting go of eddie’s wrist so he can snake his arm back around his waist — so he can dip his hand back down to his ass. “we’ve got plenty of time to work on your stamina.” 

“yours too, apparently,” eddie shoots back, finding some of that confidence he usually carries in spades, letting a grin unfurl across his mouth.

steve barks out a laugh. “mine too,” he agrees. his hand slips into the back pocket of eddie’s jeans and cups his ass through the fabric. he gives it a squeeze and quirks an eyebrow. “race ya?”

eddie’s laugh is swallowed by steve’s mouth as he recaptures it into another searing kiss.

oh yeah, eddie thinks, nipping on steve’s bottom lip, giving his hips an experimental roll that pulls a groan out of steve, lets have some fun with this.

[wormdebut]

JULY MICRO FIC - YOU JUST MIGHT GET IT

@steddiemicrofic | PROMPT: one | WORD COUNT: 111 | Rated: M | CW: horny fucks

——

Steve never expected things to turn out like this. Headed back to Eddie Munsons place.

Jesus Christ.

If the closeted fuck he was in high school could see him now.

Eddie looks ethereal in the street lights. Steve always knew he would, he just—hadn’t gotten the chance to act on it, until tonight.

Eddie turns around, grinning from ear to ear, “You sure about this, big boy?”

Steve blushes, can’t help it. “A good fucking orgasm? Hell yeah.”

Eddie laughs pulling him forward, “One? Oh, sugar, you don’t know what you’ve signed up for.”

Steve can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes his lips as Eddie pulls him, meeting his lips.

[strawberryspence]

this is ridiculously late but belated happy birthday, mackie! (@stevethehairington) everything you do is golden and being able to call you a friend is an honor. here’s some cheesy fluff for my friend. ily. 💛

“Where’s this one from?” Featherlight warmth spreads through Steve’s core. Eddie’s finger touches his taut skin, a memory weaved in between blood and skin.

Steve presses against the touch, “That one is from when Billy Hargrove broke a plate in my head.”

Eddie’s mouth gapes open, blinking at him in disbelief, “What now?”

Steve laughs, pressing his head at the blade of Eddie’s shoulders. He basks at the heat, like a kid in a summer field, remnants of passion and magic still in the air.

“Have I never told you that story?” Steve says, muffled as he presses kisses into Eddie’s shoulders, skin and scars making up his person.

“No?!” Eddie yelps, pushing him away gently, his face slacked with confusion and concern, “Does this look like the reaction of someone who knew that Billy fucking Hargrove broke a plate on your head?”

Steve smiles, pressing his thumb against Eddie’s forehead and smoothing the furrow away, “Well, I told you that story, right? Our second time with the Upside Down. It was around that time, when Billy attacked Lucas and we got into a fight.”

“Oh.” Eddie sighs, “I really don’t want to speak ill of the dead. But— Billy.” Eddie makes a face of disgust and cringe, that makes Steve laugh.

“Let me do one.” Steve urges on, making Eddie smile and nod.

There is something so magical with the way Eddie maps out Steve. Some nights, they stay up way past making love to learn every bit of skin. Steve never understood why, no one really stayed long enough to learn the stories burrowed in his skin.

Eddie says— like a person from an actual fucking fairy tale— that Steve is a map, a map of constellations and stories, all formed from years of journey and life. If anything, Eddie says, he’s very happy that he’s the first one to do it, to discover it, to write stories about it. Steve isn’t the best explorer, but he does his best to do the same for Eddie.

Steve lets his finger dance on skin, weaving through stories he hasn’t learned yet. He wishes— hopes— that his touch is just as gentle and as warm as Eddie’s and that it brings him the same comfort his touch does for Steve.

Steve pauses on a scar too small under his jaw, barely visible now that it’s been swallowed whole by bursts of scars from where the bats gnawed at him.

“How about this one?”

Eddie smiles, brown eyes lighting up with recognition, “Oh. You found that one, huh?” Steve hums.

“Well, that one I got from dancing on stairs. I was holding a fire truck, and I slipped and fell down the stairs. My mom said I was very smart and I was trying to brace for my fall, but the fire truck got me instead.”

Steve caresses the scar, like it’s still healing and bleeding in his hands, like the same way he did some months ago, when he found Eddie bleeding to his— almost— death.

“Did you need stitches?” Steve whispers, scared that it might’ve hurt for a younger version of his Eddie.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing over his hair and leaving a kiss on his crown, kissing away the worries, “Nope. Just bled a lot, but it did stop. Left a scar though. Had so much worse since then.”

Steve nods, pursing his lips into a smile, as his hands explore against bursts of red painted on Eddie’s skin. It’s the biggest most prominent scar, the ones they’ve barely talked about since they started exploring.

“Well, that one, I am not ready to talk about yet,” Eddie says, his hands shaking as it makes contact with Steve’s scar, directly mirroring his scar, “But one thing is for sure, it’s pretty fucking metal that we have matching scars.”

Steve chokes out a laugh, batting his hands away, “One day, when you’re ready to talk about it, it’ll be a story of survival and bravery.”

Eddie doesn’t speak, but he does pull him closer, forehead against Steve’s. That’s okay, if Eddie doesn’t believe it right now. He will, someday. Because that’s what healing is, bleeding and healing and living to tell the story.

It’s okay, because Steve will be there, until stories wrinkle and fold. To explore every scar and bump and listen to his stories as Eddie writes stories about bright stars engraved on his skin.

For now, he finds another one.

Steve smiles and says, “How about this one?”

[tough-n-dumb]

lullabies

this ficlet is shamelessly inspired by the ending of No Reason to Be Afraid by @insignificant457 because i couldn't get inej wishing kaz a goodnight out of my head. thank you for writing this beautiful pre-canon fic—all credit goes to you!

“Goodnight,” she calls after him, then winces. Goodnight? You’ve just joined a gang, Inej, have a little dignity. He pauses, already halfway out of view, then leans back to look around the doorframe, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Goodnight,” he says stiffly. She gives him a weak smile, which he registers before leaving without further comment.

Read below or read on AO3

It becomes a habit; a nightly routine. A goodnight, Kaz her closing remarks of most evenings—or sometimes in the dark and early hours of the morning, depending on the day. More often than not, he’ll murmur it back. If he doesn’t, she’ll give him a little tsk and a hushed, chiding manners before slipping out the window. 

They spend more time together than she thought they would—probably more than he thought as well. But after jobs, she begins to linger, the windowsill in his attic rooms now her designated perch. From it, she can watch both him and the city like the spy he’s crafting her into. She likes to dangle her feet into the cool air and observe the stars that burst through Ketterdam’s cloudy sky. They’re in different places in the night sky here than in the Ravkan plains and mountains, but the constellations are familiar. She is so far from home, but the longer she spends in the Slat, in her perch in this dangerous boy’s room, the more the definition of home starts to change (though for her, home has always been other people). 

She sometimes uses variations like sleep well or sweet dreams though she knows he’ll most likely have neither. She tries not to worry about that; tries not to listen to his pacing above her, the way his bed will creak in the middle of the night from him tossing and turning. She can only imagine what he sees when he closes his eyes in the dark. She understands what it’s like to face your demons even in sleep. 

When she uses these softer variations, he’ll often smirk and offer a wry remark in return. Something along the lines of, “What’s next Wraith, you’ll sing me lullabies?”

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” she shoots back. She gets comfortable, teasing him like this, and it pleases her that he doesn’t seem to let anyone else get away with it. 

But what neither of them know—and how could they?—is that years down the line when those same nightmares come knocking she will do just that, lending him the lilting words her parents sang to lull her to sleep whispered into his hair, the rich Suli consonants curling around them in the darkness. Their voices, they find, are one of the best ways to bring each other back from the crumbling ledge of their memories—though they’ve always known to some degree that that was the case. 

One night, she’s reclined on the sill, legs stretched out and head tilted back, the warmth of summer bathing over her even after the sun has set. She yawns and rubs her eyes, and when she opens them, Kaz is staring at her. He clears his throat and looks away, shuffling some papers on his desk in a manner she knows is just for show. 

“Go rest, Inej.” It’s a dismissal, but not an unkind one. Simply a directive. She nods, rubs her eyes once more and sits up all the way, about to wish him a goodnight when—

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” He mumbles it while still staring down at his mess of papers. 

She freezes and lowers her hands, a big smile spreading on her face. 

“What was that?”

“Go to bed, Inej.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what you said.” She is absolutely grinning now, much too pleased that she’s taught her Barrel boy niceties. She thinks his face is slowly turning pink, the tips of his ears bright with color. 

When he finally looks up at her, she feels her chest tighten at the sight. His eyes are so dark they’re nearly black in the room’s low light. The shadows crease his face into hard lines, but yes, there it is—a high blush spreading across his sharp cheeks. 

“Goodnight,” he finally repeats. “And have the sweetest of dreams, darling.” He’s injected a gratuitous amount of sarcasm into the words, but the way his eyes dart over her face—and, she thinks, settle on her lips before he looks back down at his desk—gives him away. 

“Goodnight, Kaz,” she says before slipping into the night. Tonight, she isn’t plagued with her usual nightmares. Tonight, she dreams of a leather-clad hand in hers, warmed by the sun, and sea breeze in her hair.

[stevesbipanic]

For @stevethehairington you are an inspiration to me, happy birthday ❤️

"One day I'm gonna visit the stars!"

A young Eddie Munson lays out on his uncle's trailer roof and makes himself a promise of adventure.

"You can't visit the stars, they're so far away!"

A young Steve Harrington snuck out to join him.

"Yeah I can, Uncle Wayne says I can be anything I wanna be when I grow up and I wanna visit the stars!"

"My nanny says I'll probably grow up to be like my dad."

"You're nanny is a dickhead."

"Eddie! That's a bad word!"

"Well she is! You can visit the stars with me, gonna take you on all my adventures, Stevie."

"I'd like that, Eddie."

The years would pass and the boys would grow apart but neither would forget that promise made by two kids in a trailer park. Even when they would be thrust back together by monsters and dead teens.

"You need to go on more fun adventures, Stevie, ones with less creepy bats."

"Well I'm sure there's no bats in space, Eds."

An older Steve Harrington would later beg the stars to let him keep their promise.

"No, no, no Eddie c'mon Eds don't die on me."

"Sorry sweetheart, think you're gonna have to go on those adventures without me."

"No, Eddie, you're supposed to take me on adventures remember, supposed to take me to the stars and away from Hawkins, please Eddie."

"Take Dustin on some adventures for me, ok?"

"Eddie!"

Steve doesn't look for the stars for nights afterwards, too busy watching and waiting.

"Stevie?"

"Ed's, you're ok!"

"I'm sorry I made you worry."

"Knew you wouldn't leave without taking me to the stars."

Decades later, if you found yourself out on a clear night, there would be two bright stars shining down on you, watching you go on your next adventure.

[withacapitalp]

I won’t wish to be yours (or for you to be mine)

Read it on ao3

Second Part

Eddie was never going to be able to stay. 

Logically, Steve understood that. He understood it, and he agreed. No matter what the government tried to spin, no matter what Hopper told them, the people of Hawkins thought Eddie was a murderer. A boy like Eddie had been guilty since the first day he arrived, and this was the inevitable conclusion. 

Still, there was knowing he was eventually going to leave, and then there was watching Eddie put the last boxes in his van and cling on tight to his uncle.

July 14th. Eddie had stayed ten days past 4th of July. Just long enough to make sure they were all going to be okay on the first anniversary. It was kind. It was thoughtful. 

It made Steve wish he knew how to hate him. 

“Okay, so as long as you stick to your timetable, you should get to Chicago by tonight. You have a reservation at this hotel already, so try to get there around check in time, okay? They even have parking in the back,” Nancy rattled off, handing Eddie a thick folder of papers. 

When Eddie had told the five of them he was leaving, she had launched into research mode. It was the way she coped, and it was productive. In just one month she had managed to put together a full dossier of the exact route Eddie had to take to get to New York, even found him a few garages outside of the city in towns where no one would have ever heard his name. 

“Thanks, Drew,” Eddie said with a grin, patting Wayne twice on the shoulder and dragging Nancy into a hug, “Actually, thanks to all of you. You guys have been super helpful.” 

They had been. Nancy planned, Jonathan had started putting together an album of all the pictures he had taken, Argyle began cultivating the perfect stash for Eddie to bring with him, and Robin made about a dozen mixtapes of ‘real music’ for him to listen to. 

Steve had grieved. 

He hadn’t done a damn thing to help or make this process easier. Robin had done her best to try and make things better, she always did, but it didn't help that she was also leaving in less than a month. All of them were. Off to colleges all across the country, while Steve stayed here all by himself. 

He was supposed to at least be able to keep Eddie. But Steve never really got to keep good things, so he should have expected this. 

He turned away from the rest so they wouldn’t see the scowl on his face, kicking at some of the weeds stubbornly poking out from the gravel outside of Wayne’s trailer. The kids had already come by to say their goodbyes, leaving before they had to watch Eddie go. They had offered for Steve to come with them, and he should have taken it. It had felt wrong at the moment to be the only teen to not be there to wish Eddie farewell, but now Steve felt like his world was collapsing, and he just wanted to go home. 

Never mind that his home was standing about 20 feet away from him, laughing with the rest of his friends. Never mind that his home was leaving for good, never to return, and Steve was probably never going to see him again. 

“Hey, easy on the flowers,” Eddie said with a laugh, pulling away from the rest. He squatted low, picking the dandelion and examining it, “Still looks good,” 

Steve hummed, unable to make words come. 

“Make a wish,” Eddie whispered, holding the fuzzy flower up to Steve’s lips. He took a sharp breath in, hating the way his chest felt like it was about to cave in. 

I wish the people in this town would fuck off so you didn’t have to go. 

I wish everything would just stay exactly as it is. 

I wish you would stay. 

I wish I wasn’t so selfish. 

I wish I knew how to tell you I love you. 

Because he did. Steve loved Eddie in a way he thought he was never going to be able to love again. He loved Eddie so much it hurt, and he had started to think that Eddie might even love him right back, but then it had all broken down. 

Now Eddie was going, and Steve had missed his chance. 

Steve banished all of those stupid greedy thoughts, pulling away just enough to blow out a heavy short gust, watching the seeds dance away, merrily floating across the trailer park, unaware they carried no wishes with them. 

“What’d you wish for?” Eddie asked. 

Steve let himself look at Eddie. Really, honestly, look. He memorized the wave of Eddie’s curls, and the long slow slope of his nose. Steve mentally sketched out the sharp jawline, and the way his eyes sparkled. He committed it all to a place in his brain where Eddie could stay young and beautiful forever. 

That was the Eddie Steve could love forever, that was the Eddie that would stay. 

He could let this one go. 

“That you’d be happy, wherever you’re going,” He whispered, pulling Eddie into a far too tight hug. He rested his chin on Eddie’s shoulder and closed his eyes, dragging in a long breath and savoring the smell of Eddie’s cheap, terrible, 2-in-1 shampoo conditioner. 

Eddie held him back just as tight, his forehead nestled in Steve’s neck. 

“I’m gonna call. Every day,” He promised, and Steve forced down the scoff that wanted to come up. 

That’s what everyone always said. I’ll call, I’ll write, we won’t lose touch. It never happened. His own parents hadn’t even managed to keep calling, why would Eddie be any different? 

No, Steve knew the truth. They would call every day for a while, maybe even multiple times a day. Then they would slowly go to every other day, then once a week, once a month, just on birthdays and special occasions. And, eventually, Eddie would forget his name, or Steve would only be fond memories that lived in high school yearbooks and yellowed old photo albums. 

Eddie would forget that he had maybe started to love Steve. 

It was going to happen with Eddie, then Robin, then Jonathan, then Argyle, and finally Nancy. It would happen with the kids when they finally went off on their own, and Joyce and Hopper when there were no more people tying them down to Hawkins. Everyone would leave, because that’s what people did. 

They would leave, and Steve would stay, and he needed to learn how to be okay with that. He needed to figure out how to get over losing people. 

And he needed to be alone to learn how to do that. 

“Does that sound good, Stevie?” 

Oh. Right. Eddie was expecting a response. 

“Yeah. You better. I’ll be waiting by the phone,” Steve said, hating how much that was going to be true. Eddie laughed like it was a joke, but it was the god honest truth. Steve would wait by the phone every single day, and one day the phone wouldn’t ring again. 

He swallowed down the bitterness that was rising, untangling himself from Eddie’s arms and interlocking their fingers. This was the last time he was going to hold this hand, the last time he was going to feel those rings. He needed to savor it. 

They walked back to the others as one single unit. There was another round of hugs, a few well hidden tears, and then Eddie was getting into his van. For the first time there was an air of nervousness, and he glanced around the group, his eyes landing on Steve and staying there. 

Eddie wanted reassurance. He needed a patented Steve Pep Talk, a few words to tell him that he was making the right decision. 

Well, he was making the right decision for him, but Steve couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell Eddie it was okay to go. His heart was already breaking in two as it was, giving Eddie the last push he needed would shatter it completely. 

Then Robin’s hand was sneaking into his, and she was giving him a look, and Steve couldn’t be selfish anymore. 

“Don’t forget us when you get big and famous,” Steve said with a wave, all of them pretending his voice hadn’t cracked even a bit. Eddie gave him a beaming smile and a two fingered salute, starting up the van with the usual roar. He carefully backed out of the drive, leaving the trailer park with an obnoxiously long beep of his horn and a waving hand. 

And he was gone. 

He was actually gone. 

Steve didn’t bother to stick around and chat with the rest. He had given the last bit of his care away to Eddie, and now he just wanted to curl up in his bed. Steve had to learn to live with this pain, and the sooner he started, the better. 

Robin followed him without words, and he loved her for it. They had already discussed their plans. They were going to get rip roaring drunk, and Steve was going to have a good long cry, and then they would eat ice cream. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than being by himself before he had to be. 

“I’m sorry,” Robin said softly as they got into his Beemer. 

“Don’t be. He’ll be okay.” Steve replied automatically, starting the car and pulling out, going the same way as Eddie. A wild crazy part of him almost wanted to speed to catch up, cut Eddie off, tell him not to go. 

Steve kept the car below 30, barely crawling on a street he normally flew down. 

“He will be,” Robin said carefully. The unspoken ‘I’m worried you won’t be’ sat between them, heavy and oh so painful. 

“I will be,” Steve said stubbornly, ignoring the look Robin gave him. He put the radio on so they didn’t have to talk anymore, hating himself for wishing that he had wished for Eddie to stay. 

[b-is-in-the-closet]

Stars on their skin

It was something he had mentioned before. He talked about it the first time he had ever seen the captain’s skin exposed, they hadn’t even noticed it was on their hands until he pointed them out. He pulled them aside, gently holding their hands, as he would often do, but this time was different. This time instead of circling small patterns into their skin with his thumbs, he used a new pattern, which involved tracing their freckles.

“Mack, what are you..?”

“I never knew you had stars on your skin.”

The Captain only blushed in response. Even in the moments where them having freckles did cross their mind, it was never as stars on their skin.

—————————

This would happen a few more times. The Captain would take off a glove to do some task, and Mack would find some way to compliment them. One of the times they took them off was one of their and Mack’s dates. It wasn’t much, just a simple night in the Captain’s quarters, but it was private. And with the chaos of running a ship, sometimes simple was all you needed.

The two were cuddled up side to side, and Mack had pulled one of the Captain’s hands from their lap. “You know,” he started, tracing them in the same pattern he always would, “I think I want to connect them one day.”

The Captain was very confused. “Like… with a marker? You already connect them whenever you want.”

“No, I think… I think like this.” And without further warning, he gently brought his lips up to their hand, leaving a small trail of kisses between the freckles. Once he finished, he pulled his lips away. “Nothing permanent. Just something so you know they’re loved.”

“Right…” The Captain pulled their hand back to look at it, tracing over what he had just done. They couldn’t help but smile. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good.”

—————————

A while later, and the Captain and Mack had started to get a bit more intimate. Not sex, per se, but more heated making out, and cuddling with less and less clothes. It started simple, like always, with the captain wearing a tank top and shorts to sleep instead of their jumpsuit. It was much more comfortable, after all, and chances of getting disturbed late at night this far into the trip was low. Mack would wear his underclothes, which consisted of thin leggings and a sleeveless turtleneck.

Mack joined the captain in bed, noticing more of those lovely freckles across their arms. He moved the blanket away to get a better view of them. “Well would you look at that… I’ve got more to connect.”

He softly smiled as the Captain turned a slight pink color. They smiled back at him, as if proud, “there’s a few on my legs too.”

And that there were. Not nearly as many, of course, but they were there. Mack traced over the new spots with a hand, like how he had done the first time he discovered them. He almost seemed awestruck, and would have happily stayed like that if it wasn’t for the Captain pulling the sheets back over themself. Mack looked up at them with puppy dog eyes. “You can keep doing that if you want, but maybe next time don’t let me freeze.” They teased with a loving tone.

“Sorry… I guess I got kinda excited… it’s just… you’re like a galaxy. All those stars on you…” He was tracing the ones on their arms, now. The Captain simply smiled and nodded, giggling a bit at how he admired them. It felt nice to know he loved them so much. Not only did he love them, he loved everything about them. Even things they didn’t notice. Like freckles.

—————————

It was the day. Mack had asked the captain to visit his room in private, and they obliged. They had no idea what he was planning, but he said not to worry about it, and that it would hopefully make them very happy.

They did not expect to see a bed filled with flower petals. Furthermore, they didn’t expect him to insist it wasn’t sex. (Unless they wanted that, that is.) “I said I wanted to connect them one day. All those stars on your skin… May I?”

It.. wasn’t something they were expecting to be asked. Of course, he had mentioned it almost all the time, but it almost felt surreal to actually be happening.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. And if not, that’s okay too.”

They stood still for a moment, and Mack started to worry at their hesitation. Was it too soon? Should he have asked differently? Set a different mood? His rhetorical questions stopped when the Captain started to take off their clothes. Well, most of their clothes. Mack warmly smiled, helping them and guiding them over to the bed to lay down.

“I love you so much…”

“I love you too, my Star. More than you could ever know.”

And with that, he started finally doing what he was meant to do. It was loving, it was kind, it was certainly gentle. He went from hand to arm to face then back down to arm and hand. Once finished there, he’d trail across their upper and lower body, down to their legs. He made sure to do it at least twice before planting one final kiss on their lips.

They pulled up once they realized he was done, smiling and pulling him into another kiss. “Thank you…”

“For what?”

“For all of…” the Captain gestured to the bed and themself. “This. Really… you’re a sweet guy, Mack.”

“Thank you for letting me.”

They shared yet another loving kiss.

[bacchusbasil]

Ficlet- Stan Loses his Memory (Shapes and Pines AU)

“Oh my gosh, Grunkle Stan you did it!” Mabel excitedly exclaimed as she placed the fez upon the kneeling man’s head.

Ford, Dipper, and Tad lingered behind, sober looks on their faces. Ford rubs his arm as a tear wells up in Tad’s eye.

“Oh uh... Hey there… Kiddo,” Stan hesitantly greets, gently removing Mabel’s arms from his shoulders. “What’s your name?”

Mabel laughs nervously. “Uh, Grunkle Stan?”

Dipper covers his mouth silently, joining next to his sister.

The man in the trench coat touched the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle and looked around. “Heh… who ya talkin’ to?” 

Tad floats up to Stan’s face, reaching for his chin. “C’mon, Mack! You know us! Don’t ya remember me? Your husband-for-tax-purposes?”

The blue being’s supposed husband just stares blankly. Tad grabs him by the collar. “You can’t just forget our anniversary that easily! C’mon, does twenty years of commitment mean nothing to you?!”

Stan backs away from the two, who now have tears flowing over their faces, and Dipper grabs each by the shoulders to pull them away.

Ford leans over to comfort Mabel. “We had to erase his mind to defeat Bill. It’s all gone.”

The older man glances up at his brother. “Stan has no idea, but he did it. He saved the world.”

Ford moves closer to Stan, placing his arms on either shoulder. “He saved me.”

The amnesiac blinked unrecognizingly as Ford teared up. “You’re our hero, Stanley.” His voice cracks. He embraces his brother for the first time in forty years.

Tad reaches for Mabel’s hand, who takes it and pulls him close like a teddy bear. The square cries into her sweater sleeve and she cries into his bowler hat, Dipper putting a hand on her shoulder and lowering his cap.

The family took a solemn moment to mourn.

(Shapes and Pines belongs to @void-dude )

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Just Your Voice...or something

This ficlet is for @stevethehairington's birthday, the best of celebrations to you, Mack!!! I was thinking for some time what you'd like and I was reminded of your small essay about the Little Mermaid. So...have a Little Mermaid Steddie AU.

The sea witch was supposed to be terrifying, that's what everyone kept telling Steve. He'd sell you potions that would destroy your mind. He'd find any loophole to make you do their bidding. He'd cheat, lie, promise the impossible and connect with the spirits of the deepest ocean to enslave anyone and anything.

The thing was...Steve really did need his help.

The second he entered the witch's cavern, he already felt like he made the worst mistake of his life. There was a huge bubbling cauldron, glowing with whatever toxic stuff the witch was brewing, and from the shelves carved in to the cavern walls, tens of tiny creatures were watching, waiting, following his every move.

"Well well well. Prince Steven himself. I should have cleaned."

Steve turned around so quickly his hair created a halo around his head. There the witch was, sitting on the ceiling with their tentacles wrapped around loose rocks, staring down at Steve, turning their head curiously to the side.

"Uh...what are you doing on the ceiling?" Steve asked, returning the questioning glance.

That made the witch chuckle. "Good question. Stretching. Also it gives me a new perspective."

"An upside down-perspective doesn't sound very useful, but whatever makes you happy," Steve shrugged. "Listen, uh...I came here with a request."

"Oh? A request from the prince himself? I will need a right side up perspective for that then." The witch bounced off the cavern ceiling and landed before Steve with almost staggering grace. Only then could he properly see what they - no, he - looked like. Long, flowy hair around his head, dark eyes and a mischievous smile that gave way more credence to the rumors. He too felt inclined to do whatever the witch asked of him. "Hi," the witch stuck his webbed hand forward, "I'm Eddie, the local witch and the perpetrator of every single bad thing that happens around here. Ever had a bad hair day? That was me."

Laughing, Steve took his hand and shook it. It was becoming more and more difficult to remain cautious when the witch was so charming. "Nice to meet you, Eddie. I'm...well, Steve. You alread know that."

"That I do." Eddie moved backwards and crossed his tentacles in a way that Steve often saw humans do with their...not-tentacles. Legs, they called them. "Well then, Steve. What can this measly witch assist you with? Not that I dislike visitors, but I don't get to see too much royalty around here."

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes. Royalty, sure. As if he was anything special to his father, his only redeeming feature were his looks, the golden scales and a beautiful mane of sun-kissed hair, that was it. "Funny. Uh, look. I need legs. Also to breathe up there." He pointed vaguely upwards to the distant surface.

Eddie blinked. "Uh. Sure, legs. Dare I ask why? A pretty lady or something in the land above?"

The prince snorted. "Yeah, no. Look, it's not like you care, but there's this kid up there, he almost drowned. Name's Dustin, I think, and I...shit, this sounds way more stupid than I usually do, but I want to make sure he's okay. He didn't look too hot when I dragged him to the beach and his mom was going crazy with worry. So...yeah. That's why."

"That..." Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it. "That's so sweet I might barf."

Steve shrugged and pointed towards the cavern entrance. "Be my - well, your guest, but you might want to do it outside. So. Legs. How much for a pair of legs? A temporary one?"

Eddie grinned at him, twirling his tentacles some more. It was almost hypnotizing. "Oh, I don't know. Pretty difficult, those pesky legs. All those toes, ten of them, that's a full day's job. I'd say the price is...your voice."

Ah, there it was. The evil streak everyone was talking about. Steve just closed his eyes and nodded, resigning himself. "Fine. Take it."

He expected pain, maybe. Or something touching his face, at least. What he didn't expect was a loud fit of laughter invading his ears, reverbating through the cavern.

"What?" he asked Eddie, annoyed.

"You..." wheezed Eddie, wiping at his face, even if any and all tears would dissolve in water instantly, "you really thought I was serious? That I'd do some evil crap like that? Ah, man. My reputation has to be way worse than I assumed."

Steve's scowl sent him into another fit of giggles while the prince searched for a reasonable response that didn't include punching the witch. Just a little. "Okay then, so what do you want?" he snapped.

One mighty sweep of tentacles and Eddie was next to him, hand over his soulders. His black scales were smooth and surprisingly pleasant to the touch. "Geez, Stevie, calm down. Contrary to what you might believe, I'm not that bad."

"Yeah?" Scanning the walls of the cavern, he noticed the scared eyes of the tiny creatures around. "Care to tell me if those poor, unfortunate souls moved here voluntarily?"

Eddie just snickered and crooked his finger at one of them, inviting it closer. It wiggled in the water a little before slowly descending into his palm. He touched its forehead with a long finger and muttered an incantation. And just like that, in a puff of colorful swirls, floated Chrissy, with her golden hair and forest green tail. "So, Chris," drawled Eddie, "care to describe to prince Steven here how I kidnapped you and forced you to live here with me?"

"I..." Steve was at loss of words. "I thought you left? Or disappeared?"

Chrissy snorted and moved closer to Eddie, finding comfort under his arm. "Yeah, I did both. Because Jason wouldn't leave me alone. I came to Eddie for advice on where I could go, but he let me stay here, in a changed form...for my own protection. Just like the others. Really, Steve, prejudice doesn't suit you." Turning back to Eddie, she nudged his side. "Hey, Eddie, can you change me back? I'll take a brief nap."

Ruffling her hair, he touched her forehead. "Sure thing, Chris. Off to the bed with you." And just like that, she was a tiny octopus again, floating to her shelf.

"Oh wow," breathed out Steve. "I feel like a huge asshole. That's...that's actually really nice of you."

Eddie shrugged, returning to his cauldron. "What can I say. The rumors are useful, it keeps the rich and mighty assholes out. Except for this asshole," he pointed at Steve with one of his tentacles, but there was no venom. "So, legs. Can do, a small spell and you'll change when you exit water, you'll have your tail back when you re-enter it. Just a small warning for you - you'll want to get covered when you get up there. There's going to be...something...where the front of your tail is and humans don't like to see that."

Steve snickered at that. He definitely saw one of those during his trips to the surface and he absolutely didn't want to see that either. He watched as Eddie muttered something weird and deep that sent sparkles towards his tail. "Great, thank you. Uh. So, what about the payment? What do you want?"

Eddie rolled his eyes at him. "Whatever. You want to check on a kid, so it's not like I'm going to charge you something crazy. Two pebbles, a pretty mug for my cavern, whatever."

"Do you like anything from the world above I could bring you?" Steve asked, moving closer to the cauldron. "Since I'll be there. They have a lot of interesting stuff."

"Hmmm...maybe..." Look, mermen normally didn't blush, but Steve could swear Eddie's cheeks turned a bit darker. A strand of his wavy hair floated into his mouth and he started chewing on it nervously. "OK, so theoretically. If you were to find one or two. Apples? Do you know what those are?"

The shame in Eddie's face had Steve laughing, clutching his sides. He just looked adorable, trying not to ruin his cultivated image. "Sure, I know them. They float, but I'll get them down here. You've got a sweet tooth, huh?"

"Not a word, prince," the witch threatened, pulling more and more hair in front of his face. "No one will believe you. Now shoo, go check on your kid and find me some apples."

Steve saluted him. "Shall do, oh mighty witch!" With a single sweep of his golden tail, he was gone.

When everything quieted down, Eddie stayed hunched at his cauldron. He didn't really foresee this day going so...weird. Not bad, but weird.

"You like him."

He scowled at the tiny Chrissy creature that floated in front of him with a smug expression. "Oh shoo with you too. He's going to check on the kid and fall in love with a pretty lady or a princess above, or he's going to toss a half-rotten apple to me when he comes back and will never speak to me again. They always do."

She floated closer and nuzzled under his chin. "I don't know, Eddie," she sighed. "He seemed like a good guy. And he had those eyes. Just wait, I'm about to earn an I-told-you-so."

- - -

Eddie hated being wrong. But when, not even a day later, he found Steve waiting in front of his cavern, a satchel of apples in hand (well, above his head, struggling to keep it underwater) and a wide smile on his face, he thought being wrong wasn't the worst thing in the world.

"Welcome back, your highness," he invited Steve in. "So, how was your child friend?"

Steve beamed at him, his face bright even in the shadow of Eddie's abode. "He's doing well. A bit shaken, but recovering. His mom was really grateful, both to me and you. She sent you this...what did she call it. Token of appreciation from her garden. They should be one of the sweetest types." He handed Eddie the satchel and watched with fondness as the sea witch shoved his hand in, grabbing a beautiful red apple and taking a bite. The look on his face was pure bliss.

One crunch later, Eddie opened one of his eyes and looked at Steve. "Want one?"

"Uh, I..." Steve stammered. "They're your payment, I couldn't-"

Shaking his head, Eddie shoved an apple into his hand. "Don't give me that crap. You saved the kid, you deserve an apple. Now make yourself comfortable. Unless you're afraid to stay?"

Steve laughed and floated closer to Eddie, taking a bite of his apple. "Of you, Eddie? Never."

The crunching of apples was loud in the cavern, but not enough to drown out the quiet "I told you so" from the highest shelf.

(also, I forgot to mention this, but the cauldron? It was soup. Eddie is feeding a full cavern of runaways so of course he needs to cook in bulk)

[stevethehairington]

Everyone always tells Eddie that he has his mother's hair. Pretty chestnut curls, all the way down past their shoulders. From when he was a little boy on, people would comment on it, would say how precious it was that they looked so similar, how sweet it was to share that feature.

Eddie loves that. Has always loved being so visibly connected to his mother. She is his favorite person. And he is hers.

But then Eddie's mom gets sick. She gets sick and her curls start to fall out. It starts out small, little clumps here and there, but it gets worse over time. And she's never been one to let things control her, though, so she shears the remaining curls off herself. Cuts them before they can cut her.

Eddie is sad to see them go, especially since it means they don't look alike anymore. But that's okay, because he knows how to fix that.

So little Eddie asks his dad to shave his head so that he can look like mommy still. He ends up actually liking the shaved head look because his mom is the coolest, and she makes it look so metal. (That's what she said when Eddie came running into the hospital room with his brand new buzzed hair. He'd sat on that bed with her and lifted her hand to his head so she could feel his fuzzy scalp. She'd smiled with shining eyes and told him he looked so metal.)

But then she dies. His mother dies, and seeing his shaved head in the mirror hurts. Because all he can think about when he sees it is her. His mom; frail, sick, hurting. Without a single curl on her head.

Eddie start to grow his hair out again. Lets it get long, long, long, the way it was before. It still looks like his mom's hair (he thinks there will never be a day that it doesn't, and god, if that doesn't hurt too), but this is the hair she had when she was happy, healthy. When she could lift him up and dance him around the tiny living room, singing and laughing and smiling so big.

But then Eddie's dad forces him to shave it. (He doesn't tell Eddie why, but it's because he looks too much like his mother. Acts like her too, but at least that was easy to ignore. This... this is much harder to wave off. And that's just far too much for his father, already dangling precariously on the edge, to handle.) So he sits Eddie down and he shaves it all off. And when Eddie looks at his reflection after... all he can see is that hospital bed. Those tubes. All the loud, beeping machines. His mother, so small, so fragile, tucked up beneath those too thin blankets, slipping away more and more each visit.

The pain and the hurt and the heartbreak flare up so strong, and Eddie hates it. He hates the reminder. He hates his father for doing this to him.

His father leaves him to go drown himself in another bottle, and Eddie takes a lock of his own hair from the floor. Holds it carefully in his palm. It's not his mother's, but it's the closest thing he's got to her.

He closes his fist around the hair and stares at himself hard in the mirror. Stiffens up his upper lip and sniffs hard and tries not to cry.

He throws the clippers away then, and vows to grow out his hair again. Vows to not ever cut it after this. Vows to never let his father touch his hair again.

The last vow is the easiest one to keep. Three months later, his father goes to prison.

He doesn't come back.

[buthowboutno]

ONE YEAR OF "AND THEY WERE LAB PARTNERS" ✨✨✨

Thank you to everyone who participated in the one year anniversary poll!! I still maintain that it would be funny as /fuck/ to just delete “And They Were Lab Partners” in a memento mori fashion, but alas; Only one person voted for it.

Cowards /j

In any case, the majority voted for the behind the scenes stuff, so here we are! The tidbits of how ATWLP turned into the fucking beast it is.

I would like to personally blame @morning-sun-brah , @hitechlatte, and @ordin-arily for being such big inspirations in this corner of the fandom. You guys are amazing and I probably wouldn't be where I am today without your works.

Shout out to all my losers in the backrooms for keeping me going and being such terrible influences. You are all responsible for the horrors that have been unleashed. A solid third of my content exists because of your sins /aff. 

@beckerboopin is the best beta anyone could ask for and has only brought this story up to the next level. I would die for you becks <3

Also @betyoudidntcthatcoming-blog is the love of my life that I only met ‘cause of this fic or whatever. They’re pretty neat. I guess. :p

ANYWAYS, /CONTENT/

(Major Spoilers Ahead Pre-Chapter 23)

—

I would like to remind everyone that ATWLP was only supposed to be 50k words. You can still witness my naivety in the notes of “Pudge ‘Preciation.” 

How… simple those times were. 

How I so firmly believed the idiots would be kissing by chapter 16. How a projected word count of 150k words seemed unfathomable for a single work, much less a work with multiple published and planned companion pieces.

Crazy. (I was crazy once.)

There was a lot of ATWLP that ended up getting scrapped as I got further into the story. The idiots had a lot of opinions and tugged at me a few different ways as I got to know them better. (aka they wouldn’t listen to me when I told them to fucking kiss already.)

Anyways, some of the few major structural changes:

Casey was originally supposed to reveal that he knew Sweet’s in the bad timeline during the “Intro to Sparring” chapter. That chapter was also originally slotted to happen /before/ the kidnapping debacle, but it just so happened to fit in better later

The stage kiss from “Hit the Club” was going to be in the Nerd Prom chapter. It felt too corny at the time (and lowkey still feels corny) so I put that in my pocket for later. For as much as y’all yelled at me for it, it barely made the final cut lmao.

The way the idiots are going to confess to each other is a COMPLETE 180 from how I planned the story from the beginning, which was already entirely different from the first idea for this fic. I wrote a whole ass chapter about an accidental kiss being the tipping point of them positively macking on each other, which I did end up cutting into convenient pieces for other stuff. (I PUT A PART OF IT DOWN BELOW)

Sweets was going to be kidnapped twice and the whole Purple Dragons debacle was going to be drawn out more. There was a lot more action planned than slice of life content at ATWLP’s conception. For better or for worse, this is where the story led us.

Donnie’s mating season wasn’t going to be as involved in the story, if in it at all. I grew to be hornier and less ashamed. You’re welcome.

The first title for this fic was “Lab Rat: a Story of Nerds Falling in Love.” For the life of me I cannot remember what compelled me to change it, but holy shit am I glad I did.

I was going to use (y/n) in this fic. No hate to those who do, but stylistically I’m pretty happy with not doing that.

And because I have no control over the idiots, quick rundown of the chapters that weren’t supposed to happen.

Kart Conflict

The Christmas Issue

The Recovery: Day Two 

Valentine’s Day Episode

Hit the Club

Aquarium? Hardly Know ‘Em

****Pool Excursion

****Beach Episodes

****honestly just like the entire endgame of this fic

All the ficlets/ alternate POV’s

All the smut! I still have it written down in my original notes that ATWLP was gonna be completely PG lmao. Once again y’all have @morning-sun-brah and her fucking fabulous fics to blame for that

The Valentines’ and aquarium chapters are COMPLETELY different than how I had originally planned, even with being forced to include them in my chart. The Valentine’s day plans that the brothers had “ditched” with Sweets was the og plot for the chapter. The aquarium chapter was supposed to be a rooftop picnic with feels~~, no aquarium even fucking mentioned in my outline.

I don’t have much control over what happens tbh. I am praying that the 37 planned chapters will be the final chapters. 

We’ll…. we’ll just have to see how that turns out.

The scrapped plots as a little treat for y’all <3 ~~~

Cut Stage Kiss (after the lift in Nerd Prom)

You leaned closer to Donnie’s face, intent on screeching in his ear for pulling that stunt.

“Kiss them already!” May yelled from the inner edge of the crowd. You turned bright red, blinking at her. You shook your head at her, but the crowd started to catch onto the idea. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Donnie laughed, a little incredulous. He leaned in close to your ear, whispering, “Theatre kid protocol?”

You nodded in agreement, allowing him to put a hand to your face. He leans into your mouth, making the crowd go wild. You giggle against the thumb separating your lips, smiling against it. Donnie pulled away from you with a dramatic ‘mwah’. You threw your head back, fully laughing as Donnie lifted you up from the dip. 

First Valentine’s Day Outline

The final four move to the living room

Sweets: “We’re making friendship bracelets while we watch the most romantic movie of all time.”

Raph: “Shrek 2!”

Donnie: “This is ridiculous”

Sweets: “This holiday is ridiculous, now pick out your five favourite colors of embroidery floss”

Donnie: “....Fine."

Donnie is actually terrible at making bracelets lmao while mikey has wristfuls of them

Donnie: “I don’t understand! I’m following the blueprints exactly!”

Mikey: “The... instructions?”

Donnie: “Whatever! How are you making those so fast? You don’t even have that many friends!”

Mikey: “Physical therapy is a hell of a time, my brother.”

Sweets: “Is Donnie being ableist again?”

Mikey: “I do believe he is.”

Donnie: “I am autistic!”

Sweets: “Bless you.”

ORIGINAL CONFESSION

And it all starts like most things in your life do: a silly mistake.

“Donnie,” you whined. You were working on your physics homework at his desk while he was soldering a new motherboard for the Turtle Tank’s controls.

“Little pest,” he mimicked your tone without looking up. He kept on soldering as you stared at him, not a care in the world. 

“Would you be so kind as to look over my work for this problem? I’m following the steps but I’m not getting the right answer.”

“Mmm,” Donnie said. At that moment, a spark flew from his project and caught his exposed cheek. He flinched back, dropping his wire and soldering rod on the table and rubbing his face. You batted your eyes at him while he scowled. 

“I don’t know how, but I blame you for that.”

“I would *never*,” you teased. You pushed your chair to the side a bit so Donnie could stand next to you. 

He moved his goggles to his head and put his left arm over the back of your chair, leaning over you. He parsed through your work for a minute and tilted his head down to tell you what you needed to fix.

It just so happened that you tilted your head up to ask him a question at the same time, the two of you meeting in the middle with a kiss. 

Well, it wasn’t so much of a kiss as it was the two of you accidentally brushing your lips together for a moment. Seconds, almost nothing at all. 

But the way that Donnie looked at you when the two of you jumped apart…

That…that wasn’t nothing. 

You could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation. You could’ve cracked a joke, played up your ridiculous game of pet names and intellectual bravado. 

(To be honest, you almost did.)

But then you thought about the way Donnie’s lips felt against yours. You thought about the way you’d dream of that moment and then proceed to do everything in your power to banish those thoughts away. Your mouth hung open slightly as you looked up at him, trying to will yourself to do anything, anything at all.

Donnie ended up making that decision for you. That oh, so familiar churring started emanating from his chest. He took your face in his hands, looking into your eyes for just a hint of confirmation before leaning in for a real kiss.

Oh.

*Oh*.

(Yeah, you could get used to this.)

There was nothing more you could do than press yourself against him, against his touch. You felt him smiling into the kiss, pressing you down into the chair. 

Donnie was *everywhere*, like he was trying to encompass you. His hand moved to your hair, the other to your hip. You smiled when you remembered his adoration for your love-handles all that time ago. You traced along his plastron, making nonsense shapes and mapping out every scar.

He was so responsive. The chirring increased tenfold for every touch to his chest, every soft bite you gave his lips. You recalled all the times he would make noises from you touching along his shell. You pressed your hands fully against him, doing your best to draw out more and more of those sounds.

What Donnie lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. He followed your lead, matching your pace every step of the way. You licked along the seam of his lips, gasping as his mouth opened for you. Donnie’s tongue against yours was tentative, shy even. You did everything in your power to ease Donnie into deepening the kiss. 

When he moved from your lips and started kissing down your throat, your soul could have left your body right there. He was so…*gentle*. 

Donnie always has been. From when he was slinging his arms around you to kicking your ass in sparring, Donnie has never failed to treat you with care and reverence. 

You feel it now, with every soft bite he gives you, every gentle peck behind your ear.

Donnie pulled away from you after what felt like decades. (Never enough, it would never be enough.) You leaned forward after him, trying to close the space he was creating. He looked bashful.

“This might be the proper time to tell you that I have a massive crush on you,” Donnie said. His face was fraught with nervous determination. 

“Yeah, no fucking shit,” you said. You stood up from the chair and used your body to push Donnie against the desk. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to your height.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for forever, can we get on with it?” you said, looking into his eyes. Donnie turned bright red.

“But– you? Do you?” Donnie stammered a bit.

“Donnie,” you deadpanned, crowding into his space, “I’ve had a crush on you for a year, thanks for noticing. Will you *please* lean your face down a bit so I can reach it?” 

Donnie looked at you a bit incredulously, like you were a problem he didn’t know how to solve yet. He made quite a picture, all red faced and calculating with a dumb half-smile while he looked at you. But, giving in, he put his arms around you and leaned in to kiss you again.

“Aye, aye, captain.”

You smiled into the kiss, humming with contentment.

He likes you.

He likes you.

—

Aaaaand some random headcanons because I love you guys and I am truly so thankful to this kickass community <3 I truly do not know where I would be without the support y’all have given me.

Donnie has a hella oral fixation

NOT IN A KINKY WAY (most of the time) But as an autist, Donnie do be biting

One of his biggest shows of trust if he bites you while just chilling

Like if donnie is big spoon, he just nom on a shoulder and stay there chillin

Or if reader is body pillow, he’ll lean around and bite their bicep

Good sensations

Donnie draws on eyebrows every day, he for sure would be very good at doing intricate makeup on reader

Gently holds their chin up, concentrated as hell while reader blushes like mad

Donnie keeps getting banned off of roblox

Didn’t matter tbh, he knew how to hack into it to get his account reinstated

Also makes money off of roblox??

never explains to Sweets, very suspicious

Sweets likes to kiss along donnie’s neck/where his battle shell usually sits

The word here is reverence

Donnie is egotistical, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have insecurities about being a mutant turtle and you being a human

Lots of tracing along his arms, his face, his shell

Donnie likes his coffee to be half coffee, half milk to cut down on bitterness. Sweets is a tea drinker normally, but opts for coffee when they can’t focus (which ends up being most of the semester).

Sweets drinks black coffee when they’re on the struggle bus

To quote them, “Black coffee can’t hurt me more than Calc II already has”

But they prefer two creamers and two sugars when they have it in their dorm.

That’s all, congrats on making it to the bottom of this long ass post lmao <3

[steddielations]

Oh my gosh! The smut recs were amazing! DO YOU HAVE ANY LIKE TOOTH ROTTING STEDDIE FLUFF??? OR ANY ACCOUNTS IM DYING

*putting these in your pocket*

little things mean a lot by 96tears

(96tears has so many good fluffy one shots)

waving down the wind - MacksDramaticShenanigans

(mack also has so many perfect fluffy one-shots, I’m just gonna recommend their entire ao3)

if i was brave (i’d climb up to you on the mountain) by hexiewrites

Dots and Dashes by alligator_writes

run my heart through your gentle cycle by cheatghosts

the seventh heaven (when i kissed the teacher) by judasofsuburbia

linger by yournowheregirl

temptations of trouble by MacksDramativShenanigans

what you feel is what you are (and what you are is beautiful) by througheden

steve harrington’s six step guide to getting the guy by oaseas

some of my favorite accounts that post fluffy steddie ficlets and headcanons are:

steveshairychest stevethehairington pizzaqueen babyboymunson henderdads punkharringtxn metal-dads

also i have a steddie fic rec tag with even more in there!

[dangerous-disposition]

21 and/or 42 for Freak/Dom c:

Aaaaaaah Sav, thank you so much for the request, it was such an honour to write Your Boy!!

Anyway, everyone, this is a Freak/OC ficlet that is kind of a peek into the future of pom!verse~*~

It's... a wee bit spicy!

“How have you survived this long by yourself?”

It was soft, the way Freak said it, but it still hit Dom like a sack of bricks, or a Mack truck, or a fucking meteor. There were more and more moments like this, when their clawing fingers gentled to caresses and their eyes softened as they looked at each other. It was getting difficult to keep ignoring the shift in their… situationship, and that made Dom itchy.

Especially when Freak was fucking looking at him like that. Like he pitied Dom.

With a derisive scoff, Dom shoved away from the other man and sat up, leaning over the edge of the bed to rifle around for his jacket. “Jesus, can’t even get a good hate-fuck these days without getting that stupid fucking look,” Dom snapped as he finally found his jacket and dug his pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

“You can’t smoke one of those in my bed,” Freak said flatly as Dom lifted a smoke to his lips.

Rolling his eyes, Dom mockingly mouthed the words back at Freak before he got out of the bed. Stepping out onto the balcony just off the bedroom in naught but his skin, Dom turned to look back into the room while he lit his cigarette and took a deep drag.

Freak was watching him, his gaze heavy and intense as it trailed over Dom’s body. He couldn’t deny the curl of heat that surged through him at the way those eyes lingered on the dark thatch of hair at the crux of his thighs; it was still damp from their earlier activities, the memories of which sending heat thrumming through Dom all over again.

With a knowing smirk, Dom lifted a foot onto a nearby patio chair as he leaned back against the solid railing, shivering as the lips of his cunt spread open and a drop of spend and slick ran slowly down his inner thigh. Freak’s eyes followed the thick drop as Dom took another deep drag of his cigarette.

Lowering his other hand, Dom caught the mess with his fingertips and pressed it back into his cunt with a low moan, his eyes rolling back. By the time he opened his eyes again, Freak was on the balcony with him, crowding Dom against the railing and knocking his chin up with his nose to expose his throat.

“No kissing,” Dom reminded Freak, even if he desperately wanted to feel the man’s lips on his skin.

Just below his ear, Freak sighed and something like guilt swirled sickly in Dom’s gut.

“Why’s this have to be a hate-fuck?” Freak asked, pulling back to search Dom’s face.

“Because, I fucking hate you,” Dom lied, jutting his chin out defiantly as Freak narrowed his eyes down at him. Freak’s expression was far too thoughtful for a man whose dick was beginning to harden where it was slotted between Dom’s thighs.

“Sure, you do,” Freak eventually said before bodily turning Dom around, the sudden move catching him off-guard. “Spread those legs of yours.”

Dom didn’t have a lot of time to actually obey the order before Freak shoved his cock into Dom’s messy, desperate cunt.

Make Me Write! Accepting more prompts until Sept. 30 @ 11:59 PM MT

[kanerallels]

For your Christmas drabbles, can I request Dousy with White Christmas! (And Merry (early) Christmas!!)

Merry Christmas to you, too, friend! Hope you like this!!

Christmas ficlets ask game!!

When one ended up 60 odd years in the future, there was a lot of unfamiliarity, to say the least. Over the past year or two, Daniel had seen stranger things than he’d ever expected to— and he’d seen some bizarre stuff working with the SSR.

But there were certain things that retained a sense of familiarity, that hadn’t changed too much since his time. And Christmas was one of those things. Mostly.

“Why do people use these again?” he asked, eyeing the projector dubiously.

“Makes decorating easier,” Daisy explained, sorting through the box of Christmas decorations that Jemma had put them in charge of. Nearby, a radio let out the sounds of a Christmas song Daniel didn’t recognize— though at this point even he recognized Michael Buble’s voice. “Quicker and easier than putting up strings of lights. Mack hates them, though— he says they’re a betrayal of the spirit of Christmas and a sign of how this generation prizes quick and easy over harder but ultimately better stuff.”

“So, don’t put it out?” Daniel guessed as the song on the radio ended.

Grinning, Daisy said, “Nah, we’ll keep it in reserve.”

“Got it.” Daniel put it to the side just as a new song started. And this one, he recognized. ‘White Christmas’ had been around since he was a kid, and it always brought to mind snowy streets and Christmas trees.

Daisy clearly recognized it too— as she dug through the book, Daniel heard her humming along, swaying a little in time to the music.

I’m dreaming of a White Christmas,

Just like the ones I used to know….

Setting aside the box he’d been looking through, Daniel quietly stepped forward to stand next to her. Catching her gaze, he offered her a hand and a smile as he said, “May I have this dance?”

A grin rose like the sun across her face, and she took his hand.

[justhere4thevibez]

If your up for the prompt, domme!chrissy has been on my mind lately! Maybe something soft/comfort after Eddie has a bad day or whatever feels right!

this is heavy on the hurt/comfort, and it takes a bit to get into the smut (how do I keep writing 1k smut ficlets??)

cw for brief mention of child abuse

The moment Eddie stepped through the door, Chrissy knew something was wrong. He never trudged unless something was really bothering him.

“Bad day?” she asked, leaning up to peck him on the cheek.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, burying his face in her hair. “The worst.”

She cupped his jaw in her hands so she could look into his tired brown eyes. “Want to talk about it?”

He shrugged, completely downcast.

“Okay, baby, go sit on the couch,” she said, giving him a gentle nudge. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She made a cup of tea, adding in a heaping spoonful of sugar just the way he liked, and brought it over. He looked so tired. Not much really got to Eddie, but once something did, it hit him like a mack truck. But that’s what she was here for. To help him. To take care of him. To hold him together when the world tried to tear him apart.

Kneeling at his feet, she gently unlaced his shoes and took them off one by one.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said quietly, but she hushed him with a hand on his knee.

“Let me take care of you,” she said, gentle but firm.

Once she’d finished taking off his shoes, she sat at the far end of the couch and coaxed Eddie over until his head rested in her lap. He nestled into her, pressing his face to her belly and letting out a long breath.

“Talk to me, sweetie,” she said, running her hands through his hair. “Tell me what happened.”

He closed his eyes as she scratched slow circles into his scalp, melting into her touch.

“There’s this, uh, kid Matt in my class,” he began, his voice slow and heavy. “He’s a good kid, but I think… things are rough at home for him. Just little things, but I know what it’s like. Been there, you know?”

“That’s hard, baby,” Chrissy said, rubbing from his scalp to his ears. “Is that what’s got you so upset?”

“Nah, it’s fucking Higgins,” he said, stretching like a cat under her soothing touch. “I told him about it—I wanted to get help for him. But he said we don’t have enough evidence to interfere.” He let out a frustrated breath, his voice hitching. “Matt comes in with bruises on his arm that are a dead ringer for fingerprints, but we need more fucking evidence. I just—I feel so helpless.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, wiping away the tear that trickled down his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. This isn’t your fault.”

“But I should be able to fix it,” he said fiercely, his voice shaking with rage or sadness or maybe both. “I’m his teacher. I should be able to help him.”

“Hey.” She made her voice firm to get his attention. “You’re doing everything you can. Tomorrow we’ll go talk to Hop, okay? We’ll figure this out together.”

He nodded, still teary, and she kissed him gently, tasting the salt on his lips. Her tenderhearted boy, so willing to look out for others and do the right thing only to have it thrown back in his face. No wonder he was exhausted.

“We’ll do everything we can for Matt tomorrow,” she said, stroking his scalp. “And tonight I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, finally relaxing. “Thank you.”

“Of course, sweetie,” she said, working her way down his shoulders and across his back with soothing touches. “You’re so busy taking care of other people you don’t take time to care for yourself. But that’s my job, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his eyes still closed. “You take such good care of me.”

“And I always will,” she whispered, kissing her way across his tearstained cheeks.

Her hands made their way down to his jeans and began fiddling with the button. Eddie opened his eyes a crack, confused.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, his brow wrinkled.

“Shh, baby, just relax,” Chrissy said, smoothing his forehead as she wrapped her free hand around his cock. “Let me do this for you, okay?”

She jerked him off slowly, rubbing her thumb over his tip with every stroke and keeping her other one tangled in his hair. The weight of her fingers on his head kept him down and sweet, though each firm, steady slide of her hand against his shaft pulled shivers and whimpers from his lips.

“Good boy,” she murmured, keeping up with that slow, torturous pace. “You’re so good. So caring. That’s one of the reasons I love you, you know that?”

“Love you, too,” he murmured, sounding almost drunk from her touches.

He always got like this when she worked him up slowly, reveling in the touch itself just as much as the pleasure she pulled from him. But he was getting close. She could tell by the way his hips rutted mindlessly, chasing her hand every time she pulled away. God, he was so beautiful like this, so shameless. It made her cunt throb with want.

Later, maybe. When he was a little more himself. He did adore eating her out.

“You going to cum for me?” she asked, rubbing his cock just a little faster. “Are you going to be my good boy?”

“Yes,” he said, thrusting into her hand. “Want to—be good—”

“You are,” she said, kissing him tenderly. “Cum for me, good boy.”

With a shout and a stuttering of his hips, he came, covering her hand in his spend. She worked him through it sweetly, wringing every last ounce of pleasure from him until he was panting and trembling.

“So good, sweetheart,” she murmured, stroking his sweaty forehead with her clean hand. “That was beautiful, baby.”

He smiled, the most relaxed he’d been all afternoon. And when he opened his eyes, she saw him. Her Eddie, back from that distant, sad place he’d been in earlier.

“Did I make a mess?” he asked, biting his lip in a way that looked shy, but which she knew was eager.

“You did, baby,” she said, showing him her sticky hand. “You want to clean it up for me?”

“Yes, please,” he said, sliding down so he was kneeling in front of the couch. “And then, can I—”

He licked his lips hungrily, and she laughed. Yes, her Eddie was definitely back.

She tilted her head in contemplation, as though she hadn’t already decided he could do whatever he wanted tonight. Just to prolong the suspense.

“Only if you’re very good.”

send me smutty prompts

[parabellvvm]

what would you trade the pain for? — TIMELINE

what would you trade the pain for? is supposed to mainly take place about 6 years before the events of Disco Elysium, when Dora packs her things and leaves Revachol and Harry behind, before he and Jean became partners in the RCM, and when he and Vincent officially meet.

the canon is extensive and might be chopped up into multiple fics rather than just under the what would you trade the pain for? (WYTPF ????) umbrella. im not really sure yet!

subject to change etc etc canon events = italicized fics written = purple

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YEAR '40 - The economic boom of the thirties comes to an end following a financial collapse.

YEAR '41 - 10 years ago > Vincent Travart's mother Maria Travart is killed in an unspecified accident. He is begrudgingly adopted by his uncle, Kenrick Faure, as a favor to his deceased mother. > The ficlet "Mother's Name" takes place about here.

YEAR '42 - 9 years ago > Joakim Virtaenen officially joins the RCM at 18 years old despite already serving a few years off and on as a civilian informant on local trafficking.

YEAR '43 - 8 years ago > Vincent joins the RCM at 18 years old at his uncle's insistence to prove himself man enough. Kenrick pays for his training. > Joakim is assigned to be Vincent's partner in the RCM.

YEAR '45 - 6 years ago > Joakim & Vincent find themselves in the right place and time to rescue a politician by the name of Antonin Arcelis, nearly abducted by who appear to be paid thugs. Antonin convinces Vincent to fudge his report, promising him a powerful favor. > Antonin, Vincent, & Joakim enter a dubious relationship. > Joakim breaks up with Antonin and reports his doubts in Vincent directly to Ptolemaios Pryce in an effort to gain his superiors' favor. The pair are barred from promotion and watched with a more careful eye. > Mikael Wyrzyk joins the RCM at 15 years old. > Dora Ingerlund breaks off her engagement with Harry du Bois. > The fic "what would you trade the pain for?" starts here. > Vincent encounters Harry for the first time, who is desperately looking for a way to distract himself. > Vincent breaks up with Antonin and gets into a situationship with Harry soon after.

YEAR '46 - '47 (estimate) - 5-4 years ago > Antonin disappears under mysterious circumstances, rumored to have been abducted. > Joakim is shot and killed during an investigation. Vincent believes his death to be related to Antonin's disappearance, but there is no hard evidence. > Despite the RCM's efforts, Antonin's case (and by extension, Joakim's case) goes cold.

YEAR '48 - 3 years ago > Vincent transfers to C Wing's "Major Crimes Unit" to work alongside Harry. Mikael, inspired, chooses to follow. > Mikael is assigned to be Vincent's partner in the RCM.

YEAR '49 - 2 years ago > Jean Vicquemare is assigned to be Harry's partner in the RCM (estimate). > A fire breaks out, damaging multiple old wooden houses on the edge of the Valley of Dogs. Kenrick is killed in the blaze, destroying the home and forcing Vincent to move into an apartment with very few belongings.

YEAR '51 - current > Harry, Jean, & Judit Minot begin an investigation in Martinaise after the death of a mercenary. Harry is left to complete the investigation and meet up with the Precicnt 57 contact, Kim Kitsuragi, alone. > Harry loses his memory. The game takes place within about a week. > Harry returns to working at Precinct 41. Kim requests his transfer from Precinct 57 to work alongside Harry. > Le Retour is predicted to happen in May by Shivers.

??? (at some point after Martinaise. unknown territory) > Vincent & Mikael are promoted to Sergeants, with Mack Torson & Chester McLaine transferring to another wing. > The case of Antonin's disappearance is reopened when new evidence is stumbled upon. Vincent & Mikael investigate, with the help of Harry & Kim. > Vincent is shot and nearly killed by a hired mercenary, losing an eye in the process. He is dismissed from the RCM due to the apparent disability and long recovery time. Harry & Kim resign from the RCM in turn. > Harry, Kim, & Vincent found their own investigative business.

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BIRTHDATES

Harry du Bois - Year '07 // 38 years old as of '45 Kim Kitsuragi - Year '08 // 37 years old as of '45 Antonin Arcelis - Year '17, February // 28 years old as of '45 Ward - Year '21, January // 24 years old as of '45 // (estimate) Joakim Virtaenen - Year '24, June // 21 years old as of '45 Vincent Travart - Year '25, March // 20 years old as of '45 Mikael Wyrzyk - Year '30, September // 15 years old as of '45