#please note that this is a work in progress so the final fic tags are subject to change!

[vegasol]

I'm so excited to be working with the super talented @monologichno on this project for the @steddiebang2024 🤩

Eddie Munson is only 18, but he has it all figured out. He’s got the world’s most beautiful girlfriend, and his band is preparing for their first proper gig. One day they’re going to be world famous, the name Corroded Coffin on everyone’s lips. Everyone’s lips on Eddie Munson. Sex, rock, and revolution, that’s going to be his life.

But then a new kid enters the class and Eddie’s life. There’s something about Steve Harrington that he can’t put his finger on, and Eddie finds himself inexplicably drawn to him. Like an asteroid drawn into orbit.

Eventually he figures out what it is. He’s in love with Steve. It’s all-consuming, but it confuses him. He still loves Chrissy, and he doesn’t want to give up on what he’s got. This realization about himself couldn’t have come at a more unfortunate time, with his relationship going so well, and the gig coming up. When his home life takes an unexpected turn for the worse, the whole mess is complete.

Eddie wants it all. He does his best to juggle all his obligations, to Chrissy, to Corroded Coffin, and to his uncle Wayne, with his newfound infatuation for Steve. Despite his best efforts, he’s caught up in his own web of lies, and he’s at risk of hurting those he cares about the most.

Can Eddie make things right, or will he lose it all?

[cococincau]

DRDT Fic Recs

As the month winds around to an end, and as I'm doing everything in my power not to write in my fic docs (read: sarcasm and a cry for help), I wanted to do something to share the wonderful works people have made for DRDT through writing.

This will be a long post so the fics and authors are all under read more. I decided to limit myself to sharing 2 fics maximum per author, otherwise I think I would hit word limit, but know that I absolutely encourage you to check their other works out too. I'll structure this post by starting with the fic title, the author, the blurb, and round it off with what I like about the fic/author overall. NSFW fics will be clearly labelled (please do not click on them if you're not of age), but for individual warnings, please check the tags and notes in the fic themselves. That responsibility falls on the reader's shoulders.

Finally, when you finish reading them, please do leave a kudo, some comments, bookmark the fic. I assure you: it'll absolutely make their day.

carnot cycle by rulanarinrush (G, Charwhit) Charles tries to talk to Whit about Whit's tendency to bury his feelings and not deal with them. post ch2 trial au.

Officer, this author right here is the reason I had to limit myself to 2 fics maximum. As I was scrolling through, trying to decide what fics to choose, I was in a dilemma. This Xanace fic is good, but so is this Areivid, and then there's the Verohus... Point being, rulanarinrush writes very, very good DRDT fics. If you want to find a specific ship in this fandom, they've probably written it. Their entire profile is full of high quality drabbles, fit for some fast reading while you admire just how much characterisation and analysis is stuffed into the fic.

Anyway, I ended up settling on carnot cycle as one to recommend. Charwhit is one of my favourite ships while I retain the opinion that Charles is so hard to write. This fic nails it, capturing that eerie atmosphere of wanting to help a friend but not knowing how to do so. You can see their mentalities incredibly well in this. This is the flavour of Charwhit that I love.

todestrieb by rulanarinrush (G, Creator Chose Not to Use Content Warnings, Verohu) Hu attempts to convince Veronika to stop egging people on. Negotiations break down.

Warning: while not NSFW, the fic does have a character be not-explicitly stated to have a boner near the ending.

Wow. If this fic isn't everything so appealing about Verohu. The veneer of civility, the very drastic ways their philosophies differ, the theming of the self. This is very much how I can see them interacting in canon, Hu trying to maintain peace in her own way, Veronika dismissing those attempts entirely. The way that the negotiations indeed break down. Simply put, that's so hot.

Still Traces by CopperPrawn (M, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Leviace + Xander) Ace knows he needs to die, but his body keeps acting on its own. He can’t control it. He can’t control anything. So he keeps on running, until the fog closes in.

While this is a fic that this is still in progress and I know that may put certain readers off, I cannot recommend this fic enough. A Silent Hill AU isn't something that comes to mind immediately to do for DRDT, but my god, I didn't know this is something I needed so intimately in my life until I read CopperPrawn's fic. The prose is so beautifully described, the characters are perfectly written, the tension is embedded so deep into the text. And the way the POVs are played with? Chef's kiss. Please check this fic out, literal dopamine.

[NSFW] Rail Runner by CopperPrawn (E, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Leviace) Life is a racetrack. It’s a never-ending circle where Ace repeats the same mistakes over and over and over again, unable to slow down, unable to stop. But at least there’s one person standing on the sidelines — and even though he isn’t cheering, the fact that he’s there is enough.

I was already a Leviace shipper when I read this fic, but if I wasn't, I think this fic would have converted me. By god, the dynamics between Levi and Ace here, absolutely entrancing. One thing CopperPrawn does so well is capturing the character voices. Dialogue instantly stands out, it feels both realistic and charming, but again, the prose is filled with characterisation. Third-person limited POV is the usual go-to by authors for fanfiction, but this author utilises it in a way that shows off every stylistic feature while giving us a very intimate look into Ace's psyche. And when it's used for NSFW? Honestly, some of the best sex scenes I've read in a good while.

i’m something very far removed and i keep going by 140 (T, Creator Chose Not to Use Content Warnings, Areden) It’s not going to be a pretty death. But it’s going to be hers. Or: Eden gets hanahaki over a girl long gone.

This is as much an Eden character study as it is an Areden relationship study. And it is so beautiful. Fitting for a hanahaki AU, the prose is flowery, but not anywhere close to that kind of purple prose criticism. No, it's compact and filled and brimming with this spot-on characterisation. Every word matters in this. It hits you with so much wham and tragicness that it makes you remember Eden's choice to be positive. The world is cruel, nothing is ever perfect, but even living in that reality, you can make your existence your own.

Exposure Therapy | DRDT AU by Tied_Ash (T, Creator Chose Not to Use Content Warnings, Verocharles) “Who was the one who comforted you during your panic attack?” Veronika asked softly. “Y… You were,” Charles answered. “...But-” “And who’s the one with more psychological experience?” “...You are.” "That's right." ——————— AKA: Veronika found out Charles has hemophobia instead of Whit.

Now this is a pairing that I've never really thought about before. And you know what? Tied_Ash has shown me the light. I've clearly been missing out. The bad end AU we didn't know we wanted but needed, oh my god please keep enabling Veronika as she enables everyone else, including making Charles process his phobia in increasingly worse ways! Also, the way this author writes dissociation, I love it.

from way up in the rafters by finestcigar (T, Creator Chose Not to Use Content Warnings, David & Teruko) David dreams of falling again that night. (In the wake of the second trial, two survivors have a talk.)

In my humble opinion as someone who's obsessed by David Chiem the man himself (/j), finestcigar has to be The David writer on AO3. I 110% recommend their other fics too, but this particular one stands out to me in the way that the two IDGAFs actually GAF, resulting in very disastrous ways of thinking for them. The author has a gift for prose. The final line of the fic? David's not the only one being haunted, I'm being haunted by the number of times I reread this fic on end.

[NSFW] Let Me Give Your Heart a Break by Pegasus143 (E, Huvid) After their icebreaker game, Hu invites David to her room.

Waiter, more Hu and David fics please! Huvid is a ship that I think really needs more recognition. The ambiguity between lies and truth, personas and the real self, genuine emotions and manipulation... the author bridges and blurs the lines between them perfectly. This applies for both Hu and David, they're getting something out of this interaction that they're not quite saying, how someone can say something that can mean something but be seen in a very different way. Voice kinks are not something I actively seek out often in fics, but you know what, I think after this I might just go look for them now.

i feel like, um, just leaving here by sEb_AsTiAn (T, Leviace + Arturo) Levi Fontana and the morning after. Is it even the morning? How long was he unconscious, recovering from near fatal injuries? How long has it been since… since he died?

There's currently a lot of room for speculation after Chapter 2's cliffhanger, and fics are such a great way to explore what could be. And really, it's fun to point out just how wrong Ace's mentality that no one will remember him is. Look no further than this fic, as Levi and Arturo grapple with the ways Ace have changed them, trying to sort out their emotions, with Levi struggling to understand his feelings about Ace while Arturo is forced to confront the possibility (and reality) of being able to save other people for once in his life. I loved their characterisation here, and until Chapter 3 releases, this is, in my mind, what happens between them.

Painting The Roses (Red) by yermie (Not Rated, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death) “Well, wasn’t that a thrill? Another murderer punished for their crimes!” MonoTV’s screen showed a winking emote with its tongue stuck out. “Anyway, enough crying over spilt— well, spilt blood. I thought I’d get in nice and early this time with your next motive.” — As the Second Class Trial concludes, a new motive is promptly offered to the students of Hope's Peak Academy - Blood Money.

I think most people have come across this fic already. Still, I need to recommend it. It's such a good case fic with what could possibly happen in Chapter 3 following the motive parallels with DR:THH. Blood money is honestly such an interesting concept and a creative execution of the motive, the entire fic had my eyes peeled for what would happen next. Given when it was written, I have to applaud the author for being able to discern characterisation so well that it still reads possible even after knowing what we do now after hiatus.

oscillating like the grandfather clock by Anonymous (T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Whit & Eden + many other relationships) Time has a way of losing its meaning while retaining significance. Inspired by art from @/shira_ceres.

So, the timeloop theory. Love it or hate it, it's still such an intriguing possibility. This fic takes the concept, incorporates it in such a playful and enjoyable way through formatting and POVs and non-linear narratives, and absolutely hits the nail on the head of what's so appealing about it. Whit's and Eden's characterisation here paints so well the journey of how they got here from their past and into the killing game, and as you're watching splices of their life in progress, you feel so well the inherent tragedy of their lives. I am so endeared to Mastermind!Eden and Traitor!Whit now, it just fits so well.

What it means to be a good person by Anonymous (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Areivid) In this world, Eden is the one who takes the fall. Arei is left behind to figure out how to live without her only friend in the killing game.

I wouldn't be me if I didn't include at least one Areivid fic in here. My biases in ships and characters are very much showing throughout this entire list, but I tried my best to limit my Areivids because it would just be this ship otherwise. But, if I had to choose just one singular Areivid fic, it has to go to this one. Anonymous, whoever you are, I love this fic as much as I would my child. It's such a perfect exploration of what would happen if Eden was the one killed instead of Arei, how the world would move if the latter was still alive. The way she so keenly impacts the people around her, how she herself develops from this. It's a tragedy how Arei was killed little moments after she decided to change, it's a tragedy how Eden, so nice and soft and dedicated to seeing the good in the world around her, was snuffed out so easily. Life's a series of tragedies, and it's up to us to decide how we go on from there. This author's writing is so beautiful, I am drawn into the universe that they create.

[aggro-my-beloved]

《 ♡ Soulmate September Schedule ♡ 》

hello lovely fandom, @aggro-my-beloved here! i’m over the moon to announce that for the entire month of september i will be posting soulmate au centered fics featuring your favorite redacted pairings! some are canon, some are not…but all the works listed below are ones i’m proud to share. the plots and pairings will be listed below the cut. please interact by replying or reblogging this post, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of the following fics once they are

posted <3 (p.s. pls don’t let this flop)

all the following prompts are based on this post from my main blog, @buck-nialled

⑨.②.②④ ⇒ “Long In The Tooth” (LaskoxDear)

[lasko’s been eighteen for six years now, and frankly, he’s becoming sick of playing a juvenile. what makes his endeavor for a soulmate even more bewildering? they’re one of his students.]

❾.❹.❷❹ ⇒ “Trash Polka” (AsherxBabe)

[babe is tired of wearing hoodies in summer, and leggings in the spring. but their soulmate seems too caught up in his career to mind leaving little notes and drawings on their skin, rather than meeting up for a legitimate conversation. babe takes matters into their own hands, which soon won’t be covered by a mod-podge of their soulmate’s scribbles. at least, one can hope.]

⑨.⑥.②④ ⇒ “The Grey Area” (GuyxHoney)

[what’s more depressing than witnessing an amusement park in black and white? realizing it may be the last time you visit one, is probably what guy would answer, as he dangles upside down on Wonderworld’s “Surge” coaster. the pretty stranger next to him isn’t the worst company, though.]

❾.❽.❷❹ ⇒ “A Great Disservice” (DavidxAngel)

[david serves a dangerous line of work. and angel? they cat sit. still, both come home with cuts and scratches for the same reason.]

⑨.①⓪.②④ ⇒ “Rumination” (DamienxHuxley)

[a re-imagined dialogue to the elemental bois confessing their feelings.]

❾.❶❷.❷❹ ⇒ “Resigned/Sullen” (DavidxAsher)

[neither david nor asher have spoken post-inversion about the turmoil they experienced in the arena. not the scars that wouldn’t heal, not what caused them, and certainly not who kept asher from bleeding out on the ground.]

⑨.①④.②④ ⇒ “Pulsation” (Foolsverse!MiloxSweetheart)

[milo enjoys feeling his soulmate’s heart thump faster when he’s present. but only when he’s present.]

❾.❶❻.❷❹ ⇒ “Like and Unlike” (Davidxfem!Angel)

[angel thinks she’s finally found a cure for her crippling social anxiety at Dahlia’s local gym. but she cannot tell if david, the ill-tempered coach, will be the one to make or break her progress.]

⑨.①⑧.②④ ⇒ “Parting Song” (QuinnxDarlin’)

[when you’re standing next to who you think is your soulmate, as you watch the real one whither away in a shitty steel department chair—how do you respond?]

❾.❷⓪.❷❹ ⇒ “Battered and Bruised” (Samx Darlin’)

[so long as he doesn’t tell them, sam can keep up his act of healing darlin’ without suspicion. it’s magic, after all…]

⑨.②②.②④ ⇒ “Twin, Where Have You Been?” (MiloxSweetheart)

[“well, sweetheart. one of us is gonna have to change.” in which milo and his soulmate will forever be that couple.]

❾.❷❹.❷❹ ⇒ “Midnight Oil” (AaronxSmartass)

[the matchmaker test is the one exam nobody can study for. only fate will tell a person who they truly belong with. still, aaron attempts to pull an all nighter with his overly-charming classmate in an attempt to cheat the system.]

⑨.②⑥.②④ ⇒ “All Roads Lead To…” (DavidxDarlin’)

[david’s twelve years young and still leashed in red, wondering when he’ll meet the one on the other side of it, or if he even wants to. darlin’ is eleven years in, a hopeless romantic, and crossing the California state line when they notice their red string now has a little slack.]

❾.❷❽.❷❹ ⇒ “Change Your Tune” (GeordixCutie)

[cutie’s soulmate is the number one target on their shit list. because who on god’s green earth gets the tetris theme stuck in their head on a daily basis? well, they’re about to meet him...]

⑨.③⓪.②④ ⇒ “As If You’ll Live Forever” (ElliotxSunshine)

[the one thing more ironic than sunshine’s soulmate being a dreamwalker is how tired they’ve become of sleeping.]

[augustjustice]

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

AO3 Link

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always with the sports metaphors,” Dustin echoed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, napkins!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seeing an opening, Eddie quickly changed the subject. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve laughed with a roll of his eyes.

“You know I quit, dude.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correction…I'm not a child.”

“Sorry.” Lucas's grin was sheepish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Nat 1 on charisma, Munson. Critical failure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really should cut back.”

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

Like everything before hadn’t happened at all. 

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

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

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

But now…now he wasn’t so sure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie could only hum his agreement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Between one blink to the next, Steve disappeared. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

Part 2

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

[skz-streamer]

Will you be my wife?

Simptober Small Things You Do M-list

Pairing: Changbin (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: just brain rot fluff :)

Notes: hahaaaa tricked you w the teaser, ik it doesn't really match up w the lyrics but I feel like this line is really proposal coded so yea:)))

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count - 484;)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three years of dating Changbin had been an incredible journey. Your relationship had grown stronger with each passing day, and you couldn't have been happier. It was a sunny day when Changbin had asked you out on a date for lunch, and you had an inkling that this might be the perfect moment to take the next step in your relationship.

As you prepared for the lunch date, your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness. You chose a cute dress that made you feel special, hoping that today would be a day you'd both remember forever. As you got ready, you couldn't help but notice that Changbin had also taken extra care in selecting his outfit. It made you smile, knowing that he was putting in effort just like you were.

Finally, you arrived at the restaurant, and Changbin, ever the gentleman, quickly got out of the car to open your door. His sweet gesture made your heart flutter, and you couldn't have asked for a more thoughtful partner.

Once you were seated at your table, the atmosphere seemed to buzz with nervous energy. Both of you were equally jittery, though you couldn't quite put your finger on why Changbin was so anxious. The anticipation hung in the air, adding a layer of tension to the otherwise pleasant setting.

As the meal progressed, you tried to enjoy your lunch, but the nagging thought of your proposal plan was always on your mind. Finally, as dessert was being served, you decided it was now or never.

But just as you were about to gather your courage and propose, Changbin caught you off guard. He grabbed your hand and placed it in his, then reached under the table, pulling out a small box. Your heart raced, and before you could even process what was happening, he asked, "Will you be my wife?"

Your jaw dropped in shock, and you stammered out an instinctive "no..." Changbin's face fell, his eyes wide and hurt. Panic seized you, and then you burst into laughter, loud and uncontainable.

Changbin's confusion deepened, and he blinked at you, utterly bewildered. You managed to catch your breath between laughs and said, "No... you did it before I could."

Relief washed over Changbin's face, and he joined in your laughter. In unison, you both exclaimed, "So is that a yes?"

Tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you both reached into your pockets, producing the rings you had secretly prepared for each other. It was a moment of sheer serendipity, and you couldn't help but feel that it was meant to be.

With trembling hands, you exchanged the rings, the symbols of your commitment and love for each other. The feeling of the cool metal sliding onto your finger was accompanied by a warmth that filled your heart. It was official—you were engaged, and you couldn't have been happier.

----------------------

Tags:  @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-jilee  @sungiesoonie  @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @buckys-pillow, @staygirl86 @chlodavids @jinnie-ret @bbygrlhannie @rebecca-johnson-28  @turtledove824  @interstellarairwaves @yearofthetiger25 @minhos4thkitty @fiqire @backintomykpopphaseagain @liknws @tinyelfperson

[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

[navstuffs]

Hello, first of all, YOUR WRITING IS GOD’S WORK, second of all, I need a second part of “I know it’s thick”, bc that took me out 💀 It was fucking fantastic. And last but definitely not least, you seem very sweet, and like an amazing person, keep up the good work 🥰💕👏✨

"I know it is thick." - Part 2

Pairing: Boss!Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader

Summary: It is thick, and now you know it.

Warnings tags: SMUT SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE, blowjob (m receiving), public sex, under-the-desk blowjob while jill is in the room, porn with feelings (sorta), carlos always brazilian in my fics (foda-se capcom ESSE HOMI É DO BRASIL), translations at the bottom

Author's Notes: ANON YOU ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!! the idea came to me while reading your ask and i was like WHY NOT? again, bear with me since smut is still a constant work in progress. also thank you so much for your kind words and requesting with me, i hope i deliver! <;3 @cerezzzita aqui miga 💖

part 1 | my carlos's masterlist

You would never have guessed you would end up like this. You see, after sending that text message, you thought you would have been fired or sued for sexual harassment within Carlos's rights.

Not that by late Friday night, you would be doing extra work. And by that, it means your legs spread apart, holding yourself back in the cabinets of the stockroom as your boss Carlos pounds into you, his big hands holding your hips with such strength it would probably hurt tomorrow. Not that you cared: since this whole thing started three weeks ago, you have discovered you had muscles that ached that you didn't even know existed.

As Carlos's ball hit against your ass, the slapping sound sounding pornographic to your ears enough to drive you crazy, you hold onto the cold shelves, your legs barely keeping you steady. Every thrust he gives inside you is more powerful than the other, seeming to reach deeper into you. It had to be that thick cock, you thank mentally. 

"Are you close?" Carlos wonders, and you imagine his bare ass looks delicious, his social pants on the floor.

You moan a pathetic yes and beg Carlos to touch you, and his hands find you, jerking in that delicious way only he could do it. It is unfair how well Carlos knew your body, although this only started a couple of weeks ago.

Three weeks since you stayed late and found out it was really that thick and you could barely fit in your mouth. Three weeks since this man gave you the best orgasm of your life. Three weeks doing extra work time.

With the way he is rubbing you, you don't take long to cum, biting your lips and closing your eyes to hold back a moan. Carlos gives you two final thrusts before you hear him muttering a curse in portuguese as he cums deep inside your walls. You stay silent for a moment, just the sound of your breaths before Carlos pulls out of you, his semen slowly dropping out of you.

You take a second to straighten yourself, your back hurting (it seems you are taking another ibuprofen tomorrow), when you feel Carlos pass a cloth between your legs, cleaning you gently.

"Oh, mhm, thanks?" You say unsure, and he smiles, giving you his handkerchief, with his initials sewn on it.

Carlos stares at you, wanting to say something. You are a little worried about it might be: yes, what you are doing is wrong, and you both know it. You are worried Carlos might want to end this sooner than later; you know he will have to. Or maybe he will finally invite you out? Maybe, you will end up fucking Carlos in a proper bed, not on top or under his desk.

"I will see you later, then." Carlos doesn't wait for your answer, and you ignore the pain in your chest, his handkerchief just the memory he left on you (along, well, with his cum). Again, this would have to end someday, right? It was just sex.

Two days later, you are under Carlos's desk a little after everyone leaves. You see, you went in there to end it all before Carlos could but, somehow, ended up with you on top of his desk, his head on the middle of your thighs. The things Carlos could do with his tongue were skills out of this world, and suddenly you can't remember what you wanted to do here.

You just didn't want him to stop.

So now, you are just repaying for the multiple orgasms from earlier, you tell yourself as his thick cock hits the back of your throat. It had nothing to do with the fact that you loved sucking him, the sight of his strong and hairy tights, hearing Carlos beg for your name, and how this powerful man seemed to melt in your arms because of you.

There is a sudden knock on Carlos's door, and you both seem to freeze. You look up, and Carlos gives you an urgent look, his eyes pleading for you to stay shut. "Please don't say come in," you beg mentally, but the door opens before Carlos can say anything, just with enough time to pull out of your mouth.

"Oh, I am so glad you are still here." Carlos's partner and your other boss, Jill Valentine sounds pissed. Carlos immediately pushes the chair into you, completely hiding your body, causing his dick to get close to your lips.

Jill vents about the challenging project the whole team has been working on, and for your relief, she doesn't pay enough attention to Carlos. Carlos gently tries to keep your head away from his cock, but you don't move. When he looks down in panic, you would have laughed if you could because Carlos knew exactly what was going through your mind.

When you test by licking the tip of his cock Carlos has to hold himself back against the chair, Jill still doesn't seem to notice. You try again, this time swirling your tongue around it, and Carlos curses.

"Puta merda."

"Did you say something?" Jill wonders, and you hold back a laugh.

"Puta merda this project huh, Jill?"

Jill continues her rant as your head goes down into Carlos's cock, slowly and torturous. Your boss has to hold himself into the table, his knuckles turning white as a low whimper dies down in his throat. His hands look for your head, you don't know if to pull you away or push you more down, but you don't stop.

"....and I am telling you, if this doesn't get solved by the end of the week, I swear I will cancel this whole deal!"

"Puta que pariu!"

"Well, I am glad you agree with me!" Jill exclaims, slamming the table. She finally looks at Carlos, who is sweaty, his chest rising up and down as he bites his lips. 

"Carlos, are you okay? You look feverish."

"I-I am fine, Jill. All good. Just sh-sharing your frustrations, that is it."

Jill thinks she heard a strange, slurping noise after Carlos says that, but the sound stops. Her phone rings before she can ask what it is, and she groans, frustrated.

"You know, we shouldn't work this late. Life isn't just work, you know?" Jill expresses, before leaving his office, waving goodbye.

You can hear the door closing, and Carlos roughly pulls out of your mouth. You gulp, anxious, wondering if you finally took too far and Carlos will end it all, when your boss's face appears under the table to stare at you, full of desire.

"You want to play like that? Fine. Let's see how long it takes for you to gag on my cock." Carlos' voice is low and threatening, bringing chills all over your body, especially your heat.

"Challenge accepted, boss."

Puta merda = Holy shit

Puta que pariu = Holyfucking shit

[kiwiana-writes]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks @stellarmeadow @onthewaytosomewhere and @suseagull04 for the tags this evening! I've been pretty focused on the subscriber shindig fics this week, and also final edits on the podfic I recorded for @aroyallybigbangrwrb which is posting REALLY FUCKING SOON, so I haven't made a lot of progress on bigger WIPs. However, I DO actually have something to share, because I had one of those 'imagining a little snippet and had to get it down into my Notes app before it disappeared' moments this afternoon, and in the absence of any other unpublished writing lately, that's what you get! This is another new WIP and definitely won't see the light of day for a while, but after decades (months at most) of being brutally bullied and harangued (mildly affectionately teased) by @rmd-writes about the state of my WIP folder... she forced me to add one (said 'ooh I want that' in response to a joke I made). Nothing has ever been my fault in my entire life, actually.

Anyway, y'all know the drill by now. Not into it? Scrolling is a free action.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re actually so worked up about this?” “Because.” Alex runs his finger around the edge of the glass, something to focus on that isn’t Nora’s too-knowing gaze. “Falling for him—it’s a cliché, isn’t it?” Nora hums thoughtfully. “Him falling for you is a cliché. You falling for him is just your inner contrarian coming to the surface.”  “Shut the fuck up.” He scrunches a napkin into a ball before flicking it across the table, but she bats it away easily.  “Look.” Nora picks up her mimosa, taking a sip. “You like him. He, for some inexplicable reason, likes you. You’re both going into this with your eyes open. It doesn’t actually have to be more complicated than that.”

Tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517

@cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks

@firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @leaves-of-laurelin

@littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied

@nocoastposts @nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @piratefalls

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons

@thesleepyskipper @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

[yoonia]

The Bedroom Hymns | myg ● fic teaser

⟶ Summary | Being the only daughter of the Wicked King has kept you living in a sheltered life. Never once were you given the chance to see the world beyond the walls of your father’s old castle, and yet, it had never stopped you from hearing all the dark rumours of your father’s indiscretions which had left you to continue living in the shadows.

When the day comes for your father to send you to live in his castle by the sea, he leaves you with a new rule set in place. You are left with a set of keys, one which would lead you to travel through the thousand magical doors inside his castle, but you are to never leave through the front door or to step foot through the golden door at the end of the hall. The magical doors become your escape, giving you the chance to see the world that you had never seen before. Until one day, your life changes as one of the magical doors leads you to the Fairy Prince.

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns; a Bluebeard Retelling ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Princess!reader, Strangers to Lovers au, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale Retelling au ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; nothing yet for this teaser, but I will add warnings as I continue writing this ⟶ Estimated word count | 40k words ⟶ Teaser word count | 2,1k words

⏤ Written for the Once Upon A Fantasy collab

⟶ Author’s note | As the result of my latest poll, you have chosen for me to finish this story first out of the rest of my April WIPs. Thank you so much for everyone who voted! If you are interested to join my fic taglist, please enter your information here. If you are only interested to be tagged on this fic, please only enter your url in the replies.

𝕺𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊, 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝕱𝖆𝖗 𝕱𝖆𝖗 𝕬𝖜𝖆𝖞…

Stargrave castle.

The castle with 1000 doors which was built right on the top of the Earthpeak cliff, the ocean edge of the Nythelean Empire’s territory. You have learned a little about this castle on the morning you first arrived, under the guidance of Lord Gordan, the royal advisor working for your father, King Aneas.

You have only been here for less than a week, and you know for sure that you still have much to learn about this castle. The place that is to become your new home. It still feels foreign to roam through the hallways, and you constantly find yourself being amazed at how expansive this place is compared to the manor you have been residing in since your childhood.

No, this castle was said to be your real home.

Your father himself had said so. This is the place where you were born. The place where you had once lived peacefully and happily with your father and mother together, before the Queen tragically passed and you were taken away while you were still a young, helpless child. This is the place that holds the old scars and the wounds that your father must carry with him for many years until he lost all of his happiness and his warm smile.

No wonder he kept you away from this place for so long.

The darkness terrifies you when you try to step out of your bed chamber at nightfall. The long corridors feel like a maze, with numerous doors and several open galleries welcoming you whenever you get lost on your way. Oftentimes, you only feel safe when you are in your private chamber, or when you are having your high tea with Nanny Abigail in the garden, where you would find yourself wasting time until the sun sets each day. There is never a day passed when you didn’t miss your old home, the Seacrest Manor. But as days continued to progress, you soon realise that if this is where you are to spend the rest of your life, you must soon make it your mission to make this place home.

Surely, it wouldn’t be such a hard task to do, would it?

Not with Lord Gordan and Nanny Abigail by your side to guide you through it. And now that you are finally back at the home castle, you will also have more time to spend together with your father compared to how it used to be before. That would certainly help you learn more about this place, about the home territory that you were never allowed to see, and maybe help fix the fragile bond you have between you and your father.

Or so you thought.

“I have to be away for at least six weeks. There are matters needed to be dealt with and it would be too taxing of a journey if you should join me,” your father suddenly announces on the first day of your second week of being home. “Make this castle your home the best you possibly can while I am away and enjoy yourself. You might need help to go around the castle in my absence, so here—”

You barely find the words to respond to him with when he suddenly grabs your hand and places a heavy set of keys right at the center of your palm.

“Here are the keys to various rooms within the castle. As you may have noticed, we have many doors right here at the home castle that has been kept locked because I am always away and you haven’t been back home, and I am the only person who has the access to each of them. Now, you will have the ability to open them all by using these keys.”

You keep your eyes on the keys in your hand, studying them closely with pure interest as your father explains this. Varied in colours, sizes, and materials, they look nothing at all like any set of keys that you would normally see for regular houses or manors. Not even your old home. Your father falls silent for a moment before he continues to explain what the keys are for, his small smile is hidden while you are not paying attention to his face, but simply to his voice.

“These are the keys to the storerooms; where I keep my best furniture and gifts from the many Kingdoms I have visited,” he says as he picks the ones made of brass from the bunch. “Make use of them as much as you need. You can also bring some of them to fancy your bed chamber should you need any changes to be done and make your stay comfortable.”

Hearing this only excites you. For days, you have been thinking of how plain and boring your new bed chamber is, and have been wishing that you were able to take some of your old belongings to fill your room with. Your father seems to be pleased to see your reaction, and continues by pointing at the slightly smaller-looking keys which seem to be made of bronze.

“These are the keys to the treasure rooms; where you can find all the silver and gold plates that I have gathered through my journeys, the casket of jewels which are part of our family treasure, and the safe where I keep all the money which belongs to the family,” he explains, while you are left speechless at how easy he is to hand over such a huge responsibility onto you. As if sensing your doubt, your father raises your chin so he can look at you straight in the eyes and say, “You are free to use them all to fill your needs, as long as you use them wisely while I am gone.”

You swallow hard and nod. There is something in his stern voice that demands your attention, letting you know that there is an underlying threat hidden in his warning, that you have no other choice but to pledge, “I will be responsible for them, Father. I promise.”

“Good. I have faith in you, Princess,” he says, sounding relieved but still cautious, and then he looks down at the keys to point at the pair that looks slightly bigger than the rest. “Now, this is the master key to all the private chambers, including yours and mine. You can use my room or my study should you need them. And this one will take you to the main library. I know that you love your books, and you shall find everything you may ever need to learn more about this land.”

Hearing about the library, all of the disappointment you felt about your father being gone begins to shift, and you start feeling a semblance of hope. If you cannot earn the information that you needed from your own father, perhaps you would be able to find your answers among the books in the library. Maybe you can also learn more about this realm, and how your father’s empire somehow exists between the two realms—the human realm, and the magical realm within the land Far Far Away.

Still with your eyes on the keys, your attention is drawn towards a pair of keys that seem to sparkle brighter from the others, calling for your attention. You look at them both with awe, amused by how magic seems to appear even in the smallest things you can find in this realm. Just like the keys you are holding in your hand.

You study those keys closely without saying a word, marvelling at each detail. One key is made of silver, while the other from gold. Both of them are glowing brightly and are nearly humming with an enticing aura as if they are made with enchantment. It makes it hard for you to look away, as if you are completely drawn to them, unable to ignore their presence and their calling.

“What about these keys, Father?” you question your father when your curiosity gets the best of you.

King Aneas leans closer just to have a better look, even if it is quite obvious that he could already tell which keys you were referring to. With gentle fingers, he pulls the silver one from its bunch. “This silver key will take you through the doors with the silver embellishments. Those doors you may enter, but only under a few specific rules.”

For some reason, his voice sounds ominous as he explains this. You look at him curiously, wondering why this key demands certain rules to be followed, unlike the others. Looking at your father’s face helps only a little to reassure you, as his face is completely stern when he begins to explain,

“Beyond the silver doors lies a strong kind of magic. One that has been so demanding of our family’s powers, and also the type of magic that should be kept secret, no matter what. Once you go through them, you will understand why it is important for me to defend this castle and our home territory.”

As you listen to his explanation about the silver doors and the magic behind them, your curiosity grows stronger. Living in the Seacrest Manor has kept you from learning anything about magic, and now that you are suddenly thrust into the place where magic seems to thrive, you feel eager to learn and experience them yourself to understand everything better. And that curiosity strengthens once your father continues to give you the rules that you must follow,

“You are free to visit each of these silver doors only for one visit each day. You must make sure that you will never remain on the other side of the door of your choice for more than six hours and you must always, always, only return home by going through that very same door you came from. Can you remember this?”

Suppressing your eagerness so as not to make him worry, you simply nod and promise, “Yes, I will remember,” while making sure to remember every detail, every warning, so you wouldn’t make any mistake to disappoint him in the future.

Just as your hope of learning new magic arises, the golden key begins to vibrate in your hand, calling for your attention. Noticing where your eyes are drawn towards, your father’s expression turns grim.

“This golden key—” he says, gently lifting the key from the bundle as he tells you more about it, “—will allow you to open the twin doors at the end of the great gallery on the top floor of the South tower.”

Your eyes grow wide with interest, recalling the night you first arrived at the castle and how the South Tower seemed to be calling your name. You feel the curiosity building, your eagerness to venture to the hidden parts of the castle rising, only to deflate when your father says,

“This one, I must forbid you to use.”

You stifle a gasp and question him. “But why, Father?”

Your father’s expression grows even darker once he takes notice of your interest in the golden door. He places both of his hands on your shoulders before you can ask more. “Never open the golden doors. Never walk past it, and never look what is inside,” he demands with a voice that comes out as a warning, before he softens and begs you, “Princess, I need you to promise me.”

Once again, you are left speechless. Baffled by his demands, yet his voice leaves you no chance to argue that you can only give in and say, “Yes, I promise.”

The King remains silent for a brief moment, as if he is trying to read your thoughts, wondering if you are hiding any intentions of defying him. But then he sighs, and your father finally lets you go with a reassuring nod.

“Good. Make sure never to forget this. Oh, and there is one more thing that you must always remember—” he quickly adds before you can say anything. “You are free to roam about through these doors — of course, except for the golden doors — but you are not to leave this castle by stepping out through the great door at the front gate. Not when I am not around, and never without a guard.”

You find this instruction quite odd. Just as odd as his rules and warnings regarding the magic doors, but you dare not to question him, understanding how little your knowledge of magic is to begin with to help you argue against his demands. So you put all of your curiosity aside, choosing to gain his trust and confidence as you promise him,

“I’ll remember.”

⟶ Estimated posting date | TBA; (hopefully) by the end of April 2023

— © 2023 @yoonia​, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[strawberrylabs]

Strawberry's Whumptober masterlist!

warning!! some of these post will contain gore, death, mental distress and other themes that may be disturbing to some readers! Please pay attention to they tags on each post and read with caution!

note: These will be 'x reader' posts because as this is an 'x reader' blog. Most if not all characters will be genshin characters simply because I know them better. If you have a character you want with a certain prompt, feel free to request it and I will write it when I get to it

if I am late some days please rest assured the fics will be uploaded eventually!

PRONOUNS: majority of my works will have no pronouns or gendered terms used for reader, if they are used they will be gender neutral or they/them. If you'd prefer she/her or he/him, there will be a link on the gn fics for both other options. If there is a specific set of pronouns you want me to use, i can edit upload another version with those pronouns, just let me know<3

Update (17th of Oct): whumptober is being put in hold temporarily, some things are going on and I can't really write atm. Everything will eventually be written by the end of October! Just a little delayed is all. Please be patient<3

Day 1: "how many fingers am I holding up?" with Albedo from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 2: "They don't care about you" with Alhaitham from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 3: "Make it stop" with Xiao from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 4: "I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes" with Beidou from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 5: Debris with Wanderer from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 6: Made to watch with Kaveh from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 7: "Can you hear me?" with Kokomi from Genshin impacy [Here!]

Day 8: "It's all for nothing" with Abyss!Aether from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 9: "You're a liar" with Brother!Kaeya (and brother!Diluc) from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 10: "You said you'd never leave" with brother!Bennet from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 11: "No one will find you" with Cyno from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 12: "I haven't slept in days, but who's counting?" with Freminet from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 13: "I don't feel so good" with Tighnari from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 14: "Just hold on" with Heizou from Genshin impact [Here!]

Day 15: "I don't need you to help me, I can handle things myself" with Ayato from Genshin impact [on hold]

Day 16: "Don't go where I can't follow" with Lyney from Genshin impact [on hold]

Day 17: "Leave me alone!" with brother!Mika from Genshin impact [On hold]

Day 18: Blindfold/tortured for information with Venti from Genshin impact [on hold]

Day 19: "I'll take one final step, all you have to do is make me" with Ningguang from Genshin impact [on hold]

Day 20: "You will regret touching them"/found family with Siblings!Bennet, Razor and Fischl from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 21: "Don't move" with Kazuha from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 22: "Watch out!" with Neuvillette from Genshin impact [in prohress]

Day 23: "Who's there?" with Childe from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 24: Neglect with Aether from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 25: "They're not breathing!" with Cyno from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 26: "You look awful" with sibling!Chongyun from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 27: "Let me see" with Xiao from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 28: "You'll have to go through me" with Lynette from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 29: "I only sink deeper the deeper I think" with Baizhu from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 30: "It's ok to say 'I'm not ok'" with Lyney from Genshin impact [in progress]

Day 31: "Take it easy" with Aether from Genshin impact [in progress]

If there are prompts you want to see with certain characters send a request and ill write something for them and add it to the masterlist<3

masterlist will be updated as I make the posts!

last update: 14th of october 2023, 10:53pm (AEST)

[schrodingers-romy]

Sponsor a WIP for Gaza

Hello! I don't know how this is going to go, or if anyone's interested, but I have decided to contribute to @ficsforgaza's fundraising for Gaza via the Sponsor a WIP option. Please make sure to check the lists of wonderful writers and other fan creators who are participating on that blog, in case you would like to sponsor one of their WIPs, or request something from them! More info below the cut <3

♡ How it Works

For every $1 donated to a vetted fundraiser, I will write 100 words of a WIP listed below.

What you do:

Once you have made your donation, please send me a screenshot of that donation (with any personal info censored) via DM or ask (off-anon), and tell me which WIP you would like to sponsor. (Note: these asks will not be answered publicly).

What I do:

This page will be updated to indicate the new sponsored word count, as per your sponsorship, at the rate of 100 words per $1 donation. Note that my progress will be logged in this post but the fic will not be released until it is completed.

I will also submit your redacted donation to the ficsforgaza blog as proof; this is to prevent 'scamming' in the form of one person sending the same donation to multiple people.

♡ WIP List

Note: This page may be subject to additions or changes later on, but any sponsorships will be fulfilled. All estimated final word counts are estimates, therefore they are subject to change.

♡ Ghost!Nanami Kento x Reader

GN!AFAB!Reader; some smut; fluff and angst; horror elements

There are many rumors surrounding the old, neglected house you moved into. Supernatural rumors. Despite your skepticism, strange occurrences lead you to believe that there may, in fact, be unexplainable presences in your home. Some, more trustworthy than others...

Estimated word count: around 8k Current word count: 635 Donated word count: 0

♡ Werewolf!Kakashi x Werewolf!Obito x Reader

GN!AFAB!Reader; some light angst; fluff; past relationships; pining; established relationship; getting together; smut; knotting; mating; threesomes

Both you and your husband Kakashi believe Kakashi's old mate, Obito, is dead. When Obito turns up changed but alive, you realize Kakashi never fell out of love with him...and despite some of your misgivings, you are falling for him too.

Estimated word count: around 7k Current word count: 700 Donated word count: 2500! (0 written so far)

♡ Neighbor! Big Brother Choso x Reader [FUNDED ✔]

GN!Reader; sfw fluff; mutual pining; getting together; feat. cute toddler Yuuji

Your handsome new neighbor and his adorable little brother have wormed their way into your life and your heart.

Estimated word count: around 3-4k Current word count: 2,139 Donated word count: 1500! (0 written so far)

♡ Dragon!Mitsuya Takashi x Reader

GN!Reader; dragon shifter Mitsuya; possible smut; other tags to come

You are the first sacrifice to the Dragon in decades; you don't know which is worse: the possibility of dying of exposure on the mountain, or being consumed by a mythical beast. Luckily for you, the dragon is not looking for its next meal...in fact, he is looking for the ideal muse, and you are perfect for the job.

Estimated word count: around 5k Current word count: 100 Donated word count: 500 (0 written)

[violetsiren90]

All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: ~7k

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; depictions of cancer and its treatment; secondhand embarrassment; awkward situations; soulmate skinship; loss of consciousness; dudes dude-broing a bit lol; mentions of minor character death (in past); cursing; chemo therapy and its symptoms; nausea and vomiting; characters eat meals; Reader is starting to grapple with some difficult feelings; Hybe kinda sorta depicted as being collective assholes in responding to this situation (gonna be a theme, guys)

Author's Note: Here comes part two! I know this is months coming (again), but I've finally found my stride with writing and work. I had this mostly done, and then redid some parts and finished editing, and well...I just hope you all enjoy it! My hope is to post part three in two weeks - I really want to get into a groove with plot progression here!

There is a lot of content in this chapter about medical procedures and treatment. I tried my best to represent these as accurately as possible with what information I could acquire, but if there are any misrepresentations, great or small, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Thank you again to all who have stuck with this story! I continue to be blown away by how much love you have all showered upon it, and I'm so excited to walk the path I intend for these two and have you all along for the ride!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or an ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"Out of sheer taciturnity the ceiling listens To the fall of ancient leafless rain, To feathers, to whatever the night imprisoned." ~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

Namjoon's labs had come back with even more promising numbers. A radiology scan had shown no shrinkage in his tumors, but the doctors commented that these were early days, and that the effects of the bond might even be keeping them from inflaming due to the chemo. You had watched him, smiling as the doctor reviewed the result, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Your soulmate was on the road to recovery. 

     Nurse Cha quickly checked both of you over before initiating another skinship session.

     "I saw you out on the grounds earlier, and for the first time in weeks," she said, shooting Namjoon an approving grin. "Keep that up. He needs sunlight and fresh air," she remarked to you, flustering you even as you nodded in agreement.

     Why was she telling you that? Were you his keeper?

     Actually, you supposed, in fact, you were.

     You peeked back up at him and found him regarding you with a small, amused smile, which disconcerted you further. You shook your head, shooting him an eye-roll as you made your way into the bathroom to disrobe.

     After your first few experiences with skinship, you had asked Matt to acquire you some sporty, conservative sports bra and boy-short sets, and you slipped into one, pulling a hospital gown over it. After the way your conversation with Hyung-seo had unfolded you were glad to have them - the practical underwear felt far less intimate and flirty than your typical bras and panties, giving you much more peace of mind. 

     As you left the bathroom and made your way back to Namjoon's half of the suite, you noticed him sitting on top of the covers, long legs stretched out in front of him, in nothing but a black tee and blue boxers. He had a drip attached to a tube that ran under his shirt. When Nurse Cha glanced up from her touchscreen tablet to see you approaching, she waved her hand for you to come around to the other side of the bed, which had been adjusted to accommodate Namjoon's upright position.

     "We’re going to try this sitting up today," she explained as she typed. "He's on a chemo drip right now, and the doctor wants to see if the bond will help ease the nausea and some of the other side effects. I heard you just had a nice lunch, so it would be wonderful if Namjoon could hang onto his."

     She shot him a rueful smirk and he let out a chuckle. You smiled in turn and nodded as you slipped off your hospital gown and draped it over the end of the bed. You glanced up at Namjoon who had cast his eyes down at his hands, folded in his lap. The huge apparatus was lower than usual, so you slipped rather easily into it and against Namjoon's side. He raised an arm to drape over your shoulders and you settled against him, pressing your bare leg against his. It was comical how much shorter yours were, but you could only think of that for a fraction of a second as every other thought in your mind melted at the feeling of the man beside you.

     Butter. Warm, melted butter. It was as if every single muscle group in your body had suddenly released every bit of tension it had been holding. So many sensations at once, but this was the one you felt like leaning into at the moment. You felt like collapsing against him.

He sighed deeply through his nose. Yeah, you felt that on a spiritual level. Mmh. 

     Your melty, bond-induced reverie was broken, however, by a dissatisfied noise from Nurse Cha as she stepped toward the bed. You looked up to find her expression matched her tone. 

     "You're not really getting much contact," she said, scanning her eyes over everywhere you touched...and didn't. 

     You raised your arms slightly and a bit uselessly. You felt Namjoon lean forward.

     "Should I...like..." you looked to her for direction, but she was already in motion. 

     She grabbed your arm, guiding you off the bed and motioned for Namjoon to scoot back to the middle. She said something to Namjoon in Korean and suddenly he was tugging his shirt over his head. You felt your cheeks getting hot. Social norms had not prepared you for this amount of casual nudity. You stood there, eyes glued to Nurse Cha, hugging your arms over your middle and hoping that Namjoon was playing his usual blessed game of "look anywhere but soulmate". The nurse took your arm again and guided you back toward your previous perch.

     "Sit between his legs and lean back against his chest," she instructed, nudging you to join him.

You looked up at Namjoon. His face looked like you felt. And then it was just too much. You were standing in a hospital in South Korea in your underwear being asked to sit in a practically naked celebrity's lap so that he wouldn't die.

     You busted out laughing.

     Nurse Cha jumped, surprise clear in her features as she regarded you. 

     "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, bending over to support yourself against the bed as you continued to chuckle, "This is just..."

     You snorted. Mortified but still attempting to swallow your giggles you clapped a hand over your mouth and looked up at Namjoon whose dimples were out and whose shoulders were shaking with his own silent amusement. Nurse Cha's lips curved up a bit to one side, but her narrowed eyes spoke of far less hilarity felt.

     "Here's the thing," you said, turning to the nurse while still biting back your laughter, "Namjoon is spoken for, and...well...I have a pretty nice ass."

     The nurse's eyes widened.

     You were probably being really impolite. That would have been borderline in the States. You weren't sure about here, but you felt like that might have broken some unspoken rules. Or, maybe spoken ones because there were a lot of formalities, you were learning. But you had reached your limit with all this. The awkwardness levels were at maximum, and you were gonna cope the only way you knew how - with humor.

     When you hazarded a look at your soulmate, he had drawn his knees up, grabbing them with his hands, his head dropped between them and his shoulders shaking as he badly repressed laughter of his own. You could see those dimples again. They were even deeper than before.

     "We need to get maximum skin-to-skin contact during these sessions," Nurse Cha insisted indignantly, clearly a bit flustered. 

     "I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you offered her a contrite smile as you rocked back on your feet. 

     "Ah!" Namjoon drew your attention as he pointed behind you. "Throw me that pillow?" 

     You grabbed the little green cushion from the corner of the couch and tossed it to him. He lowered his legs and placed it over his lap.

     "How's that?" he asked with a closed-lip smirk.

     You gave him a thumbs up and clambered back onto the bed to situate yourself between his legs. You looked back over at Nurse Cha. 

     "Better?" 

     She raised a brow as she handed you a blanket. You thanked her quietly and cleared your throat as you fanned it out over your legs and Namjoon's, tucking it up to your waist. The nurse checked Namjoon's vitals and said that she would return in an hour to take him off the drip.

     You sank back tentatively against your soulmate's chest, careful to avoid the little port below his sternum. There it was again. Butter.

     Somewhere above and behind you, Namjoon chuckled. You smiled knowingly.

     "What?" you asked indignantly.

     "Did you see her face when you said that?"

     You shrugged against him.

     "Hey, it's true!" you insisted.

     "Sorry if this is uncomfortable for you," he murmured.

     You could hear that he was still smiling, but he sounded serious all the same. You let your head fall back.

     "Honestly, I felt bad for you," you huffed in another laugh before sobering. "And, thank you," you turned, casting your eyes up over your shoulder, "For always being so respectful. It's made this a lot easier."

     "Oh," Namjoon responded softly, "Of course." 

     You looked at his arms resting at his sides and thought of what Nurse Cha had said. You slowly picked up his hands in yours, raising them slightly.

     "May I put them around me? For more contact," you asked.

     You asked it boldly, but you felt shy. You wanted the chemo to work. You wanted it to stop hurting him while it did. When Namjoon let out a low hum of assent you drew his forearms around your waist and laid your own over them.

     Your eyes slipped shut. So euphoric but it always made you feel like sleeping. You weren't going to give into the urge, though, not just yet. There were conversations to be had.

     "Tell me about Hyung-seo," you prompted softly, shifting against him to get comfortable. 

     He was quiet for a moment.

     "Well," he responded slowly, "what do you want to know?"

     "How did you meet her?"

     He went quiet again. Then he sighed a small sigh. You wondered what that little breath carried.

     "She debuted in 2019. A buddy of mine - Seo Jungkwon, he goes by Tiger JK in the industry -  had signed her to his agency. Bangtan was just taking off, things were blowing up. I actually collaborated with him which is when I met her."

     He silenced for a moment.

     "We had a lot in common - how we approached life and music."

     "Had?" you asked, gently.

     He heaved another sigh. 

     "The last few years have been really tough on her. I mean, she hasn't had an easy life to begin with, but..."

     He paused, as if deciding whether or not to utter the words he wanted to say next.

     "Anyway," he redirected himself, and you wondered what thought he had dismissed, "Preparing for a tour is grueling, and this is her first one. I think the stress is really getting her."

     You hummed in acknowledgement. You recognized it in his voice - you should after all, as the same sound had echoed so often in your own - the hollow clemency of lying to yourself on someone else's behalf. 

     "Well," you offered, "She's lucky to have you supporting her, especially when you're going through such a difficult time yourself."

     Namjoon scoffed.

     "I mean, yeah, I'm sick, but...I don't know. In a lot of ways my life has been a lot easier these days. A lot simpler."

     "Really? In what way?"

     He huffed out a wry laugh.

     "I have so much time to just do whatever. Read, write...I've been learning a couple of languages. I get to do v-lives with ARMY pretty regularly, as the company allows - Jungkook went kind of crazy with it before enlistment so we have to go through them for access now."

     You had no idea what a v-live was, but from what little you had seen of Jungkook, you could imagine it took very little for him to get up to a significant amount of shenanigans. You smirked.

     "Did you have so little time for those things before?" you queried.

     "No! No way. It was like running non-stop for ten years. During my time in the military, I got a bit of a break and a change, but then I got sick and had to be discharged early, so...well, I didn't even get to experience that like I should have."

     You felt your hands tighten in response around his forearms. His life hadn't been cake-walk either, that was clear. You wondered if he knew that, if he acknowledged it.

     "Well, I'm glad you have more time for those things. You should keep as much time for them as you can, even when you're better."

     He paused for a moment before whispering agreement into your hair. You felt it even though he didn't say it, the caveat - if he got better. He would. You'd never make him a promise you couldn't guarantee, but you could make one to yourself. So you did.

     For the rest of the session you talked about Bangtan, and the recent history of the group's situation.

     You learned about conscription and that it applied to idols as well. You learned the members had decided to enlist pretty much around the same time so that they could reunite to tour again after being discharged. Namjoon had been released ahead of schedule when he had fallen ill, and at this point most of the members had followed, save Yoongi who was set to be discharged the following week. He fondly reported that they were all anxious to meet you, and that Jungkook and Jimin hadn't stopped pestering him with all manner of questions in your regard since their visit the previous day.

     Every time you had heard him speak about his members, the deep brotherly affection that permeated his words was incredibly evident. 

You asked him to tell you about each one, and he did.

     You blinked your eyes open as you felt Namjoon shift you in his arms. You slowly pulled yourself forward, struggling to focus.

     "I...I'm sorry," you murmured, "I fell asleep on you again." 

     Namjoon chuckled and assured you it was quite alright. As you wearily slipped off the mattress to stand, you suddenly felt the room tilt and your knees buckle. Namjoon's reflexes were quick enough to catch you in his arms. He stood to pull you up and hold you against him.

     "You okay?" he asked in concern.

     "I...I got dizzy..."

     You attempted to put your weight into your legs, but failed, sagging weakly against his broad frame.

     Nurse Cha was already in motion.

     "Help her to the bed," she ordered, striding across the room. 

     Namjoon wasted no time in scooping you up in a bridal carry to follow her. You gasped despite yourself, the sudden movement and his strength equally surprising. But every thought was fleeting as you found yourself struggling to maintain a grip on consciousness.

     You felt Namjoon lay you gently on the bed as cold, sticky monitors were pressed to your skin; heard him ask the nurse what was the matter, his voice tinged with anxiety. 

You heard him say your name.

     And then you heard nothing.

     You groaned as you came to. Your throat felt like the Sahara and your head was pounding. Pushing yourself to sit up, you became aware of the sound of voices on the other side of the curtain. Carefully drawing your legs to the edge of the bed, you clutched your IV stand as you struggled to your feet.

     Pulling back the hanging divider, you were surprised to see Matt occupying the little couch, a cup of coffee on the low table in front of him. Namjoon sat in the opposing chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in rapt attention as the older man spoke. It was dark out.

     "Matt," you croaked, shuffling forward.

     Namjoon's head whipped around at the sound of your voice and he sprang up, just a moment faster than his guest, striding over to take you by the arm. You faltered just a moment in your steps as his hand cradled your elbow and you felt it - his touch and what it did to you. You wanted to curl into him. You wanted him to hold you.

You gently tugged your arm away.

     "You're awake - let me call the nurse," he said, almost to himself as he moved to press the red call button. 

     You sank down beside Matt.

     "What time is it?" you asked in a husky murmur. Your friend checked his watch.

     "1:33am."

     You frowned, blinking blearily.

     "What the heck are you doing here at the hour?"

     "Well!" Matt laughed before taking a sip of his coffee, "It's nice to see you too."

     "You know what I mean..." you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

     "He called me," he said, gesturing with his raised mug toward Namjoon, who had returned to the armchair. "Said you'd had a fainting spell."

     Your eyes followed his motion to your soulmate, who was already scanning his over you, brow furrowed and full lips pursed pensively.

     "How are you feeling?" Namjoon asked.

     You huffed out a mirthless chuckle.

     "Like I got hit by a freight train."

     The worry lines on his brow deepened.

     "Hey, look..." you held up a hand to wave it weakly between both men as they regarded you in apparent concern. "I'm probably just adjusting to the bond or something. Cancer isn't contagious, you know," you ribbed, shooting a tiny smirk at Namjoon who attempted to return the expression though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

     The night shift nurse and an aid entered the room to assess you. Namjoon asked to speak with a doctor, and was told that Dr. Na would be checking in first thing in the morning. The nurse had very little else to report other than that your blood work had been sent to the lab and that they would be able to determine more once your results were available. He informed Matt that some charts would likely be available in twenty-four hours, but that your CMP could take up to three days. The aid urged you to try to get some more rest. Before departing, the nurse removed your spent sodium chloride drip and said that a meal would be sent up which you were advised to eat if possible, but to be sure to report any signs of food-rejection should they appear.

     Namjoon stood and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed at your little portion of the suit.

     "They want you to rest, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with me over here snoring? It's keeping you up, right?"

     You smirked.

     "Well, most of my rest over the last couple of days has been due to a lack of consciousness, but I do have to admit that you woke me up a couple of times last night."

    Namjoon groaned discomfitedly.

     "It really isn't a big deal!" you reassured him, "I'm a pretty sound sleeper."

     "And still I woke you up."

     "Don't worry about it..."

     "It's not just that, though," he insisted, hands in the pockets of his sweats and head cocked to one side as he continued to consider the small space across from his. "You don't even have a window. If you want privacy, you have to sit behind that curtain in the tiny bed -- I hate it. I've hated it since they were first preparing for you to arrive. I'll make some calls tomorrow. You need your own room," he stated decidedly, returning to the chair across from you.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he fired off a message.

     Namjoon did have a point, it was a pretty meager space you currently occupied. But they must have had a reason, you thought, for wanting you to share a room with him. And you didn't want to cause any kind of fuss in the name of personal convenience that might detract from his treatment or recovery. 

     "Namjoon, it's fine..."

     He looked up at you, his brown eyes assured and determined.

     "Just let me handle it. I've got you."

     A sudden warmth spread through your chest like the rising sun on the frost of your anxieties, his gaze melting away the familiar worry of burdensomeness. You looked away shyly.

     "Good man," Matt said to him with a nod, and they shared a look as your soulmate nodded in return that seemed to be one of mutual masculine respect. You wanted to roll your eyes a little bit. You also felt pretty damn grateful.

     Matt stood to leave, pressing a kiss on your temple and promised that he'd return in the morning. He paused to shake Namjoon's hand.

     "If there are any further developments, don't hesitate to call me," he said, to which the younger man nodded in agreement.

     "Or I can call you!" you rasped after him as he raised his hand in one last gesture of farewell while shutting the door.

     You huffed.

     "Smart guy," Namjoon remarked, sitting back down in his chair. "You know he's read Toegye exhaustively?"

     You raised a brow at him, your lips quirking with a wry grin.

     "Two peas in a pod. He's probably going to be coming around here nonstop until he leaves just so you two can gab in genius."

     Namjoon smiled and touched his fingers absently to his jaw, his eyes trained on the linoleum.

     "Are you bothered that I called him?" he asked abruptly, glancing up at you.

     "What? No, of course not," you reassured him with a shake of your head. "I just..." You rolled your eyes and smirked. "I'm not used to sitting around while boys decide what's best for me."

     "Aaahhh," Namjoon responded with a nod, interlacing his fingers, "Well, you've been looking out for me since you walked through that door back there, and honestly, I could get used to that..." he leaned forward a bit, "But only if I get to return the favor. You said we don't owe each other, but that doesn't mean you get to be the only one doing the giving."

     You stared at him. The only one to do the giving. The words jarred something loose inside you. You swallowed the strange feeling that threatened to well into your throat.

     Before you could respond, an aid entered with your meal. A tray loaded with dakjuk, rice, and several banchan was placed before you. It smelled fantastic, and you actually felt you could eat. You moved to take the tray to your side of the suite but Namjoon stopped you.

"Hey, wait. I'm hungry. I'll eat with you."

He crossed to the other side of the room to pick up the telephone.

"Go ahead," he said with nod of his head a little grin, "Don't wait on me."

     He didn't have to twist your arm. The chicken porridge was steaming and savory, warming you up within just a few bites. A similar tray soon arrived for Namjoon, and you found it did feel far nicer to eat with someone than alone.

     Between bites he asked you about Matt.

     "He's my dad's best friend. When he died - my dad - Matt and his wife Rebecca helped to take care of us for a while. They've been really good to my family."

     Namjoon's face sombered.

     "I'm sorry about your father."

     You smiled softly at him.

     "It was a long time ago, when I was ten. He was a firefighter."

     He nodded quietly, giving you the opening to continue. You decided to take it.

     "A fire broke out at a high-security prison. The situation got really bad with a lot of people still inside - prisoners. They told the team to stop attempting rescues, that it wasn't worth it, for people like that. But my dad kept going. Alone. He saved seventeen more lives before...well, he couldn't make it out."

     When you looked up at Namjoon again his eyes were locked on you, his chopsticks resting idly in his hand.

     "Wow," he murmured after a pause. "And you were ten years old? That must have been so hard."

     You dragged your spoon through your dakjuk.

     "It was. But managing things after he was gone...that was harder, I think."

     Namjoon's brow knit in question but he didn't press you further. For the second time that night, you were grateful. Death was easy to explain, other things were much more difficult.

     You finished the rest of your meal chatting about Matt, Neo-Confucianism, and unequivocal humanism between mouthfuls of rice and porridge.

      The next day, you were moved into your new suite a few doors down. Namjoon had received no resistance from the hospital in procuring you the space, as apparently Hybe's representatives had been the ones to originate the request that you be at the idol's immediate disposal.

     Your room mirrored the setup of your soulmate's, being on the same floor but across the hall, and Kang Dae had dropped in with a catalog stating that you could select whatever you wished to make the space more comfortable. You had circled a few things and he had departed to procure them. Matt had brought the bulk of your luggage, which meant a good portion of books, your art supplies, and finally more clothes which you would blessedly now have no worries of mixing up with Namjoon's. You changed into jeans and a comfy Nirvana graphic tee.

     You were busy unpacking when a knock came at your door. You called for the person to come in while you continued to stack books onto a small set of shelves. The doctor had cautioned you and Namjoon against further skinship sessions until your blood work had come back, so you were anxious for the results, not wanting him to go through another bout of chemo without the aid of the bond. 

When you glanced up expectantly, however, you found your curiosity would have to wait - at least, concerning your charts - as in the entry stood none other than Kim Hyung-seo.

     She lingered in the entryway at the mouth of the space, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looked much more casual today in a pair of big baggy camouflage cargo pants, a tight black crop top, and chunky white sneakers. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, and she had black mask pulled under her chin. She was bare-faced, save for two small red dots under her right eye.

     You stood from your crouched position, trying your best to keep the surprise from your face.

     "Hi," you greeted her with a small smile, which she returned remorsefully, still hugging herself as she glanced around the room. "Would you like to sit down?" you offered, motioning to the furniture beside you. 

     She nodded, crossing over to take a seat in the little arm chair. You moved to sit across from her. Your first instinct was to offer her something to drink, only to realize you were in a hospital room with no way to deliver, at which you both laughed awkwardly. After a moment of tense silence, she looked up at you, gnawing her bottom lip.

     “I owe you an apology," she sighed. 

You gave her an encouraging smile.

     "Fuck..." she dropped her head in her hands, and you waited for her to collect herself. Finally, she raises her eyes to yours, interlacing her fingers with their long white nails in her lap. 

     "What I did...what I said yesterday...I was cunt. I'm sorry." 

     You let out a little laugh at her choice of words.

     "Well, I do accept your apology...but, don't be too hard on yourself. It was a really bizarre and unprecedented situation for all of us. I'm glad we're moving forward, and in a better direction."

You smiled again at her reassuringly.

     She nodded, her lips pursed and quivering slightly. You could tell she was blinking back tears.

     "Me and Joon...we'd only been engaged for a few weeks before we found out...you know, that he had a match. That it could be his only option to live - bonding. With you. It's just all really fucking scary."

     You nodded sympathetically. She released another sigh as she continued.

     "He had to decide so fast, they pushed him to just make this huge life commitment as fast as they fucking could and now..." She raised her arms, looking around the room in resign, "Here we are. And we have to figure everything out, and I'm about to leave and..."

     "I'm sorry," you murmured sympathetically.

She looked down into her lap, worry still twisting her features.

You wondered why she was leaving, now of all times - when things were the way they were. But that wasn't for you to judge.

"You know," you offered hopefully, "At least he's on the mend. At least you know he'll have someone to look after him."

     She hummed. You wondered if it was an agreement as her eyes flitted over your face searchingly. Anxiety from the previous day's encounter began to seep into your chest as you considered if you had chosen your words poorly. You had said what would have comforted you in under the same circumstances. But maybe you were different - too different.

You softened your heart, determined to reserve judgement. Life had given Hyung-seo had her own shoes, and you would do everything you could to understand what it was like to walk in them.

     "Can I add you on KakaoTalk?" you asked, realizing you were still clutching a book, and setting it onto the low table to pull your phone from your pocket.

     She was chewing on her lip again when you looked up. She stared down at the hardback. 

     "You read a lot, huh?" she asked, though it didn't sound like a question.

     "I do," you answered slowly, wondering where her train of thought was headed.

"All that stuff you said yesterday, you seem, like really in tune with people. And smart. You guys are, like, the same."

She pressed the words out in a strained voice. She looked so small and so sad. Your heart sank for her.

"Namjoon actually said that very thing about you yesterday."

She glanced up at you in surprise and confusion. You smiled.

"He said that when you met he was struck with how much you shared in how you saw the world, and how you approached music."

She regarded you silently as you continued.

"And that's your life right, your great love? Music? What a wonderful thing, to base your life with a partner in a love you share."

She nodded slowly, her eyes watering.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, and you nodded in understanding.

You reached out to take her hand and she squeezed yours. After a few moments of silence, she rose and wiped her eyes.

     "I'm leaving tomorrow and I want to see Joon again before I go," she explained. 

     You nodded.

     "Thank you for coming to talk to me and for sharing about how this has been for you. I really appreciate it."    

     She smiled - perhaps genuinely for the first time since you met. It was a lovely smile.

     You sighed as she left. It wasn't much, but it was progress. Maybe she would let you in. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard after all.

     When several hours had passed with no updates on your lab results, you decided to take a walk down the hall to see how your soulmate was faring. You knocked on his door, but received no answer. 

     "Namjoon!" you called softly with another rap of your knuckles, but were still met with silence.

     Just when you were about to turn and go, the door creaked inward on its hinges, slipping open to reveal your soulmate's tired face.

     "I just came to see how you were doing...are you okay?." 

     You followed him as he slumped back into the suite, but before he could even reach his bed he turned and pushed past you to hurry into the bathroom. It caught you a little off-guard and you stumbled, catching yourself on the opposing wall, but quickly realized the reason for his urgency when sounds of retching followed.

     The bathroom door was cracked open and you could see him hunched over the toilet, breathing heavily as his body wracked with each attempt to expel the contents of his stomach. You hesitated a moment, then pushed the door in slowly, coming to kneel beside him and gingerly place a hand on his back.

     He raised his head, eyes fluttering when you touched him. You gently pulled your palm up and down his spine, feeling the warm surge of the bond even through his shirt. He reached for a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

     "You don't have to do that..." he murmured, resting his forehead on his arm propped on the porcelain rim.

     "I know," you answered quietly, continuing to slowly rub his back. "Can I put my hand under your shirt?"

     "You're not supposed to be touching me until we know what's going on with you." 

     You slipped your other hand out to curl your fingers around his exposed bicep below the sleeve of his tee. He sighed, shoulders sagging as the comfort and warmth of the contact soothed his aching body.

     "Can I?" you softly persisted, and he nodded his head where it laid against his forearm.

     Slipping your hand beneath the baggy cotton you ran your fingers over his soft, taut skin, heart squeezing at the definition of his spine and the ghosts of his ribs. 

     "Did you do chemo without me?" you asked.

     “I've been doing it before you got here, you know,” he retorted weakly.

     "How are you supposed to gain weight if it makes you this sick? Please don't do it again without me."

     "You passed out, Y/n," he shifted his head to look at you.

     "We'll figure that out," you smiled, "But you need to be as agreeable to these treatments as possible, right?" 

     He nodded.

     "Hyung-seo paid me a visit this morning," you remarked after a moment of silence.

     "She told me."

     "Said she leaves for her tour tomorrow. When does she get back?"

     "February."

     "Of next year?" You paused to temper your shock, "That's a long time."

     "It's a world tour. That's how it goes."

     "Wow."

     You realized for the hundredth time in as many hours that there was so much about their lifestyle to which you were ignorant. You had so much to learn, but one thing you did know: he needed you right now, so you stayed by his side until the sickness had subsided.

     Nurse Cha arrived shortly after to conduct routine checks on Namjoon, and you sat by, thumbing through the latest issue of Batman and Robin which Matt had been kind enough to drop off with your things.

     "Your initial blood work came back with some concerns," she said, turning to you and picking up her tablet to access the results. "There are signs that your body's nutrients are being depleted. Since your fainting spells have been occuring during skinship, we ask that you refrain from touching until your CMP comes back."

     Namjoon glanced over at you, a chiding expression on his features. You flatly ignored him.

     "I need to be able to touch him, especially if he feels ill. He needs to keep down his food, right?"

     Nurse Cha hummed, pursing her lips.

     "Well, I'm going to run this by Dr. Na, but if absolutely necessary, keep it light and brief. And please be sure to document even the smallest instances of skinship so that we can track the effects."

     You agreed readily, and she left to continue her rounds. 

Glancing out the window, you noted that the evening was mild, and the gardens were aflutter with birds and awash in soft late-afternoon light. You thought about what the nurse had said before about the fresh air.

     "Hey," you remarked, still looking out the window, "We should take a walk - it looks so nice out. You up for it?" 

     "Great idea," he replied, joining you to look out across the greenery. "I'm definitely feeling up for it." He huffed out a little chuckle.

     "What?" you asked suspiciously. You were beginning to recognize his different laughs - this particular chuckle was always at your expense.

     "Gonna keep pushing it with the poor nurse, huh?"

     You scoffed.

     "Well, if I hadn't would you be feeling well enough to go out right now?"

     "No."

     When you glanced up you found that he was gazing raptly at you, his face filled with unchecked thanksgiving. Your witty response faltered on your tongue. 

     His touch, you were pretty damn sure that for the rest of his natural life you would never grow used to it...but his eyes? It was almost the same. Was this part of the bond? Or was it just...him? Did everyone feel this way when he held them in those eyes? When he looked at them, really looked...

You couldn't tear your eyes away. You couldn't find words.

     When Namjoon's phone suddenly buzzed you thanked almighty Samsung and sagged against the window pane. 

     "Damn," he muttered. 

     You looked at him questioningly.

     "I have a consultation with my radiation oncologist in ten minutes. Go ahead! I'll meet you down there right after."

     He pulled a sweatshirt over his head and changed his slippers out for his shoes.

     You returned to your room to grab outerwear as well. The evening was temperate enough to go without, but you were feeling chillier than usual. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

     Mom flashed across the screen.

     Your chest tightened and you silenced the ringer. You'd call her tomorrow, you told yourself. Besides, she had already spoken to Matt. 

     When you reached the garden, you decided there was someone you should call while you waited. Ambling down a gravel path, you held the phone up to your ear, stuffing your other hand into the pocket of your jean jacket.

     "Matt told mom that you passed out - are you okay?" Diana's voice on the other end registered genuine distress.

     You rolled your eyes and sighed. 

     "I'm fine. My body is just adjusting to the bond and probably jet lag and whatnot."

     "You better fucking be fine or I'm coming out there to make sure you are."

     You laughed. 

     "To South Korea? On a Wednesday?"

     "You know what I mean, god! You're so - hey! How did the fiancee thing go?"

     "I knew you'd want an update."

     "Spill."

     You sighed.

     "Uh-oh," she hummed, "That was your, things-are-an-effing-disaster sigh."

     "It was no- why do you keep trying to divine my air flow like they're casting-runes or something? Will you just let me tell you?"

     "You don't always say."

     You huff in exasperation.

     "Okay, well, I won't tell you what that sigh is," she mumbles in trepidation, "But I will tell you that I know enough to shut up and let you continue. Go on."

     "It didn't go swimmingly."

     "Fuck."

     "Yeah,” You lifted your fingers to absently stroke at the petal of a rose. “She seemed very frightened by the whole situation, which is completely understandable. But then...she also kind of came at me. She started asking pretty intimate stuff about the bond right off the bat. When I tried to redirect by suggesting we get to know each other better she started saying all this stuff she already knew about me. About Dad and Mom."

     "What?!" Diana gasped incredulously.

     "It was almost as if...I don't know, I could have been reading her incorrectly, but it was almost seemed as if she was trying to bring things up that might knock me off my footing. Make me...insecure." 

     You suddenly remembered your conversation with Namjoon the previous night. He hadn’t let on that he had already known your father passed when you were a child...but he had known. Passing out during skinship had gotten in the way of the conversation you had intended to broach with him about knowledge of the other. You had done research before meeting him, but only the basics. You had felt that as much should come from him as possible. Clearly you hadn’t been given that opportunity.

     "That bitch," Diana seethed, pulling your mind back into the moment.

     "Hey, hey, hey," you cautioned her, "She's in a extremely difficult situation. And that was just my biased impression of her intentions. Don't be too quick to judge her, Di."

     Diana hummed discontentedly.

     "Also, she came to apologize to me today before she leaves on tour. We made progress, I think."

     "Apologizing? Bare minimum," Diana said with an air of dismissal. "What did you say her name was?"

     "Kim Hyung-seo. Her stage name is Bibi."

     Diana was silent for a moment. 

     "Found her," she declared. 

     You smiled to yourself - of course she had found her, the woman was famous. It wasn't as if stalking measures were necessary (though you had no doubt of Diana's abilities should that have been the case).

Diana clicked her tongue in disappointment.

     "She's hot."

     "She is very pretty," you agreed.

     "Yeah, but you're hot too. And, y'kow, you're you. Bet you're smarter..."

     "Di," you said, stopping to pinch your brow, "We're not in some kind of competition. We're both just human beings navigating pretty uncharted waters, okay? We both have our strengths and weaknesses. She's going to be part of my life as Namjoon's wife, so not only is building a good relationship with her important to me, I have a responsibility to her as well. We all do. To each other."

     Your sister paused on the other end before relenting sullenly.

     "Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right - you do need to make nice with her...as long as they're married, that is..."

     "DIANA."

     "Okay! Geez!" Diana cleared her throat. "How is the soulmate doing?"

     "He's getting stronger every day," you answered, happily moving the topic away from Hyung-seo.

     "That's great!" she crooned. 

     "It is."

     "Are you smiling? You sound like you're smiling."

     "How are you doing, Di? Classes are starting soon."

     You smirked as your sister's attention surged in a new direction, and for the next half an hour she regaled you with tales of her new housemates, and the smarmy and unseemly Johnnie (who had come crawling back, as predicted, upon returning to the States). 

     Upon hanging up with Diana, you checked the time, and discovered that it had been nearly an hour since you left Namjoon. You were starting to feel weak, and a bit cold - hunger, you told yourself - so you decided to return indoors for dinner.

     You called Namjoon on the way up to the fifth floor to inform him if your change in plans. He apologized profusely, saying that the doctor had been detained, and asked you to join him for dinner.

Letting yourself into his suite, you shrugged your jacket off as you headed for your usual spot on the couch when, suddenly, you froze.

    A man was rising to stand from where he had been seated on the sofa. He was clad in a dark blue button-down with a golden emblem on the shoulder and black slacks. He wore a black cap which bore a similar insignia to the one on his shirt and fit snugly over his short dark hair. He wasn’t as tall as Namjoon, though his shoulders were nearly as wide. His features were soft but arresting, and his deep brown irises, you thought, seemed to hold a bit of everything a pair of eyes could. Your comic book was in his hand.

You crossed the room toward him.

     "Hi, I’m sorry, Namjoon will be here soon - oh, I'm his soulmate, Y/n," you stammered, before catching yourself.

     The young man's sharp eyes widened, his lips parting as you bowed.

     "Je ireum-eun Y/n imnida," you started over in Korean.

     He bowed in return, raising his dark brown eyes to you again as he responded in a soft deep voice.

     "Annyeonghaseyo, je ireum-eun Min Yoongi imnida."

[spicyseonghwas]

blood love - song mingi

pairing :: song mingi x male reader, mingi x yunho crumbs

viewer rating :: varies per chapter (bc of the content of each one)

genres :: fantasy, romance, smut

au's :: vampire!mingi (very old vampire), faerie!reader, hybrid!yunho

content warnings :: most will be listed with each chapter, but the series will include the following:

vampires & fae, kissing, physical contact, blood, death, food, cursing, alcohol consumption, possessive mingi, mind games, hickeys, sadism, masochism, vampire porn :3 (ie: sexual content), and at one point mingi roofies the reader on a date (what a dick am i right)

summary ::

song mingi, the very first- and only- and last- vampire the byzantine empire ever saw, never in all his 1,045 years, 2 months, and 10 days of life, thought eh would ever do something as... human... as fall in love.

love...

what a trivial thing...

or maybe not?

and l/n m/n, the live and existing- and heavily triple-checked- faerie in all of seoul, south korea, falls in and out of love like a flying fish in and out of the summer sea.

until one seemingly normal spring day, that is...

will song mingi change m/n's views on love?

or will m/n just be another snack for this ancient, wise vampire?

masterlist & chapter viewer ratings ::

chapter 1 | 15+

chapter 2 | 15+

chapter 3 | 16+ (potentially sensitive content)

chapter 4 | 16+ (potentially sensitive content)

chapter 5 | finale 18+ (sexual content)

chapter 6 | epilogue 16+

author's notes below the cut! if you want to be added to the series taglist, pleasse go here! no dm's pls! i promise you i will lose track of dm's... divider credit to @cafekitsune !

networks :: @cacaokpop-fics @preciousillusions-net

© bouncyyunho 2023-2024.

author's notes ::

+| please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this series and any updates on it and its progress!

+| this story also happens to be one of the possible plotlines for mingi's interactive on the cryptids!ateez chatbot ive been working on for a good like... nine friggen months... hehe- except that hes a werewolf in the chatbot system, not the legendary byzantine vampire hahahahahahaha

+| but yeh. this is the reason ive been so radio silent lately... (my apologies about that friends :<) ive been working hard on this for like the whole school year so far (three weeks...)

[avatarchic]

works in progress !

updated: 2024/04/03 note all content tags and blurbs are not finalized and may appear different in published works ; fics are not posted in any particular order

bold = current focus

(?) = undecided content tag

started works

BURNED INTO OUR SKIN zuko x reader, soulmate!au, sfw, oneshot When you turn sixteen, and your soul mark burns itself into your skin, you're proven just how strong fate can be.

HOMEWRECKER gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru, university!au, nsfw, oneshot After your landlord kicks you out, you have nowhere to go, so your best friends invite you to stay with them. When you said yes, you didn't expect to become a third wheel.

BRING ME TO THE PACIFIC shinso hitoshi x reader, pacific rim!au, sfw, oneshot Years after losing your brother to a Kaiju, you're brought back to pilot an old Jaeger as a last-ditch attempt to save the world.

BABY'S BREATH miya atsumu x reader, hanahaki!au, sfw, oneshot Miya Atsumu is the biggest idiot you've ever met. He irritates you to no end—simply being in the same room with him is enough to raise your temper. Why, then, does your breath catch whenever you see him?

accepted requests / upcoming

SERVING THE SULTAN [TBD] aizawa shota x male!reader, aladdin!au, nsfw, oneshot

UNUSUAL COMBINATIONS [TBD] bakugo katsuki, tamaki amijiki, todoroki shoto, yo shindo, monoma neito, kaminari denki x reader (paired), nsfw, headcanons

MINE, ALL MINE [TBD] bakugo katsuki x kirishima eijiro x kaminari denki x midoriya izuku x todoroki shoto x reader, nsfw, oneshot

ROCKSTAR [TBD] karasuno x reader (separately), sfw, headcanons

OFFER [TBD] kenma kozume, sakusa kiyoomi, suna rintaro x reader (separately), nsfw, headcanons

LESSONS [TBD] gojo satoru x reader x nanami kento, nsfw, oneshot

LITTLE WHITE LIES [TBD] monoma neito, kirishima eijiro, todoroki shoto x reader (separately), nsfw(?), headcanons

PLAYTHING [TBD] kaminari denki, kirishima eijiro, ida tenya, sero hanta, shinso hitoshi x male!reader (separately), nsfw, headcanons

APPLE OF MY EYE [TBD] akaashi keiji, kenma kozume, kita shinsuke, oikawa toru, miya atsumu, miya osamu x reader (separately), sfw, headcanons

SHARING IS CARING [TBD] todoroki shoto x reader x bakugo katsuki, nsfw(?), oneshot

FOREIGNER [SEIJOH EDITION] seijoh x reader (separately), sfw, headcanons

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[finishwhatyoustarted-event]

Finish What You Started 2023 Event Rules

[image ID, copied from ALT: Event Rules on a blue background. - No new projects. - Any medium and any fandom welcome. - NSFW inclusive, warnings must be tagged. - Tag #FinishWhatYouStarted2023; boosting/retweeting starts September 15th. - Event ends October 31, 2023. End ID.]

The goal of this event is to get things done that you’ve already started. We all have unfinished projects whose incomplete status haunts us. Those are what we want to tackle!

The structure is loose, as this is a multimedia event. While primarily aimed at writers, this event is open to any kind of creative fanwork. Fics, translations, podfics, fanart, animations, cosplay - if you started it and never got it done, it qualifies.

There is no sign-up required. I will not assign beta readers for writers, but I can boost requests for those who want them! And I can boost messages of those who would like to beta read.

The mod is a danmei fan mainly, but your work can be any fandom. Maybe something you started before your current fandom excitement took over, or one you keep putting off in favor of compelling new ideas.

Feel free to pass this event info along! The more the merrier!

If your work is NSFW, I will only boost it if it has appropriate content warnings. Do not letter-swap or abbreviate content warnings. These are so people can mute them as needed.

Example: "gore" not "g0re"

Remember Tumblr can mute phrases, but each warning should be its own tag as well as in the body.

Please use genderbend or genderswap for characters depicted not as canon genders.

Example: #NSFW #genderbend #gore

Important note: please use Omegaverse or A/O/B for that content. The original letter order abbreviation is a slur against Aboriginal peoples and will not be tolerated here, even with the slashes. It, like other racial or identity-based slurs, fall under hate speech and are thus not permitted.

This account will post weekly morale-boosting messages and helpful resources. Every Friday, starting September 15th, will be Finished It Friday! All the completed works posted that week will be boosted together in a big thread, so we can celebrate your accomplishment!

This is a positive, shared space. Do not belittle other creators' medium of choice. Please no fandom/character/ship/creator bashing, and don't berate artists or authors for not being done with something, even if they don't finish by the end of the event. Also, please don't passive-aggressively send this event to the author of an unfinished fic you want to see done faster. 😥 Be cool, respect each other, and keep any interpersonal disagreements to your own tumblrspace.

Halfway-point check-in is October 1st. Final event deadline is October 31st. The last Finished It Friday is November 3rd.

Work-in-progress posts should be tagged #FinishWhatYouStarted2023If you complete a wip within the event, tag it #IFinishedWhatIStarted2023 for boosting so we can all celebrate!

Fics can be posted to the collection on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FinishWhatYouStarted2023

Find more information and community on the Discord, if you want! Joining the Discord is not required for the event.

[theloveinc]

FICS FOR GAZA: theloveinc's sponsor a WIP!

joining (i hope) @ficsforgaza's amazing project for those looking for a way to aid vetted fundraisers for palestine (i will also accept donations to vetted resources for sudan or congo). thank you for giving this post a look!

INSTRUCTIONS: please donate to a vetted fundraiser and send me an ask or DM with a screenshot of your proof of donation (please private your personal information outside of the necessary) and the WIP you'd like your contribution to sponsor!

example: hello! i'm interested in sponsoring your toji x reader wip!here is my proof of donation for (chosen fundraiser), thank you! (please include/attach a photo of proof which includes the date)

RATE: $2 per approx. 100 words!

NOTE: all donation screenshots provided to me will be sent to @ficsforgaza for fund tracking purposes and to ensure that donation screenshots are not being reused.

WIPS - updated aug. 13, 2024 - i am happy to discuss anything specific you'd like to see included!

[JJK] toji x reader - on raising a single father’s kids and maybe sleeping with the guy, too? (a continuation of this concept!) (NSFW)

current wc: 1.2k of approx 2.5k words

donated: 0/1.3k words

progress: 0/1.3k words

TAGS: single father!toji, stepmom-ish!reader, megumi and tsumiki are his/your babies, birthday party type event for baby gumi... toji thanks you for setting things up by blowing your back out.

[GACHIAKUTA] enjin x reader - we don’t go to bed angry here (NSFW)

current wc: 400 of approx. 2k words

donated: 0/1.5k words

progress: 0/1.5k words

TAGS: generic make-up fingering yay!

[BNHA] barbarian!bakugo x pregnant!reader - a lonely bachelor’s stray wife (concept here!)

choose your prompt:

prologue: he finds you

settling down: (epic fail)

after birth: baby is finally here!

running away: you're leaving (or so you think).

current wc: 400 of approx. 5-6k words (1.5k each prompt)

donated: 0/5-6k words

progress: (prologue: 400/1.5k)

TAGS: DARK/SERIOUS THEMES, strangers to lovers-ish, violence, mentions of prior sexual assault (not by kat), mentions of death, you don't want to be there, you don't even want your baby, barb!katsuki is paying his long overdue karma by trying to make you his family, you're confused, he's f*cking confused LOL???

[WIND BREAKER] multiple x abused!reader - (concept here!)

choose your prompt:

prologue: panic attack at the ori, two timing with bofurin

jo togame: chores at the ori, bleaching his… bright orange jacket?!

sugishita: play nurse, do hair

endo/chika: they surprise themselves by not even being mad

(want someone who isn't listed? just ask and we can discuss a prompt!)

current wc: 250 of approx. 8k words (2k each prompt)

donated: 0/8k words

progress: (prologue: 250/2k)

TAGS: DARK/SERIOUS CONTENT, hurt/comfort, talk of violence/injuries, domestic abuse, you're escaping your marriage, trying to make your own by work for both shishitoren and bofurin without the other knowing, not that they'd care but you don't know that, youre a mess and were told a lot of lies, essentially you're just hanging out trying not to let the trauma get you around all these violent boys lol!, even if they just want to protect u :(