#st van imagine

[dutchimagine]

pov: You fainted at the concert and Eddie comforts you

[jonathanbyersphd]

WAIT WAIT WAIT if Steve and Jonathan are together does that mean Robin and Nancy took custody of Argyle?

[shigussy]

of all the different fandoms im in no duo make me need to buy the merch for both people quite like stobin. like i bought a robin funko pop and then my dad called me the next day about a matching steve he was looking at in walmart and i said "grab him for me ill give u the money when u get home and he refused and i had a meltdown so bad my dad took me to walmart the next day so i could grab him this was the summer s4 came out btw

[harryspet]

well kept [epilogue] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, kidnapping, NONCON/DUBCON, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: a little wrapup of the story!

word count: 3.7k

In which you begin to question whether submission is the only escape.

well kept masterlist

8 months later …

Monotonously, you brought a wet rag across the large, rough-hewn wooden dining table that dominates the space of the dining room. It took you nearly thirty minutes to clean it thoroughly, wiping away every speck of dust before meticulously arranging the plates, napkins, and glassware with care, making sure everything was just as it should be.

It’s perfect when you get done. With a soft sigh, you flick off the chandelier of large glass lanterns, letting the natural light filter in through the tall windows, casting a gentle, golden glow across the room. You turn toward the kitchen, pulling off your cleaning gloves, ready to move on with your routine.

Then the doorbell rang.

You make your way through the downstairs of the expansive cabin, towards the front entrance. Glancing through the floor-to-ceiling windows as you make your way to the front door, you spot the culprit: a gray van parked down by the lake road. The sight feels out of place, a reminder of the outside world you rarely encounter.

Unlocking the front door, you huff as you pull the large piece of solid wood open. It always feels like it weighs a thousand pounds though you can’t recall Rafe ever having any difficulty with it. Still catching your breath, you greet the grocery delivery man, Connor, with a small smile. Before you, four-hundred dollars worth of groceries sits in plastic bags and you place a hand on your hips as you examine the challenge before you. 

“Let me help you carry them inside,” Connor offers kindly but you’re already shaking your head, “Mr. Cameron always tips so well, really, it’s the least I could do.”

“N-No worries, this is mmm-my workout for the day,” You reply, momentarily, taking in the fact that this was one of the few contacts you had with the outside world. Truthfully, Rafe had never explicitly said that Connor wasn’t allowed to carry the grocering inside but everytime you imagined Rafe coming down the stairs and spotting the two of you together.  If the young man wanted to keep receiving handsome tips from Mr. Cameron, he’d keep his interactions with you brief.

“Okay,” He seemed to shrug, confused, “I never see you in town … you work from home too?”

“Yeah,” You lie without hesitation, voice steady, “We’re just … homebodies.”

“What do you do for work? … Sorry if that’s intrusive. It’s just … this house is insane. You guys must be loaded.”

You laugh, and Connor shifts on his feet, smiling shyly back at you. To anyone else, the house in all it’s grandeur and isolation, must seem like a dream come true, “I help manage some stuff for Mr. Cameron’s business. I just help out where I can.” You hope it’s enough to end the conversation.

He still looks impressed, gaze wandering back to the cabin’s towering windows. As the silence stretches, you grab a few bags from the ground. He doesn’t immediately notice your discomfort, “I get it,” He adds, “Ya’ll are living the dream up here. Away from all the craziness.”

“Something like that,” You keep your face neutral until it falters. The slightest creak of floorboards from upstairs. Your heart skips a beat and you force yourself to grab a few more bags of groceries, “Well, I should get the ice cream inside before it melts. Thanks again, Connor.”

“I’ll get out of your hair, Mrs. Cameron,” He replied, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, “See in you two weeks. Take care, alright?”

You nod silently, turning on your heels, determined to keep your focus on the task at hand. The rhythmic thud of footsteps descending the stairs grows louder, but you force yourself to keep moving, your eyes locked on the kitchen ahead. With a small grunt, you heave the bags onto the kitchen island, the plastic crinkling as you place them down.

Just as you spin around to grab the rest of the groceries, you collide hard with a solid wall of muscle, Rafe’s chest, unyielding like a brick wall. The sudden impact knocks the breath from your lungs, and you stagger slightly, instinctively looking up to meet his piercing gaze.

“Everything okay?” He asks, most likely taking in your wild eyes. 

Wearing a button-up checkered shirt that tucked into well-fitted trousers, you assumed he’d been taking some video calls and wanted to look presentable. 

“Yeah … groceries,” You said, gesturing to the kitchen island, “Uhm, C-Connor just dropped them off.”

“That kid knows how to linger, huh?” Rafe placed his hands in his pocket, tongue poking at his gums as he thought something over. 

Kid. Rafe was probably only a handful of years older than him. “He’s just doing his job,” you said quietly, your heart racing as you busied yourself with the grocery bags, hoping to avoid further scrutiny. Rafe followed closely behind, a silent reminder of his constant presence, his need to control even the smallest interactions.

It wasn’t like Rafe was resistant to helping around the house. He cleaned after himself for the most part. Honestly, you’d expected just being a house wife to be easier than being a personal assistant, especially easier than being a barista. However, Rafe’s mountain estate was enormous, and Rafe decided against keeping the full staff he had at his Charlotte mansion. It was like he wanted you to handle all of it, to be completely busy, and maybe you wouldn’t get any ideas about wanting more for your life. 

He hadn’t realized that you stopped wanting more for your life when you woke up, drugged from whatever he had slipped you, and found him tucked between your legs, mouth wet from tasting you. The memory hit you as you leaned down to grab the next load of grocery bags. 

Not able to separate you dreams from reality, you weren’t immediately sure whether Rafe was really in between your thighs. Eyelids heavy, only your mouth opened, a strangled moan left your lips. Lifting your head, you looked down with blurry, hooded vision. You never slept in anything silk yet underneath your fingertips you could feel the fabric covering your chest. Your right thigh was hooked high over your hip, Rafe’s hand firm in the crook of your knee, holding your leg in place as he kept you open. 

Even in your weakest state, his touch was commanding, and controlling. You were barely awake and the pressure he was creating didn’t fully register until you were close, the orgasm fully bringing you to consciousness. 

Reality came crashing donw like it always did when you woke in the morning. Your life wasn’t your own anymore. Usually, you’d at least have a moment alone, a moment that was still yours before you were back on his routine. But now, even sleep seemed like a choice you no longer controlled, another thing he had taken from you.

You started to register your own breathing, the way your chest rose and fell rapidly, just as he crawled on top of you. Shirtless, his eyes still sleepy but focused enough on the task at hand. He easily pushed inside of you, and as your breathing calmed and you came down from your orgasm, he pressed his chest into yours. Your noses touched together as he sheathed himself inside you further, “You’re getting so good,” He murmured, voice smooth and full of praise, “Taking all of me. Squeezing me so tight.”

You had no choice but to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his, accepting the intimacy forced upon you.You wouldn’t cry this time, you’d remain stoic, and numb. Mentally, you could try to feel nothing, no matter that you felt him across every nerve on your skin. His praise hung in the air, and his presence consume you. 

It occurred to you then that you had no idea how you’d gotten here. Sure, you knew the mistakes you’d made that led up to this point. You knew the lengths Rafe was willing to go to, the power he was willing to yield, lives he was willing to ruin. 

You turned your head to look around the room just as Rafe settled into the side of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your skin. Your lips parted to yelp at each deep stroke, each time he pushed against your cervix, but your eyes darted around the space. You’d been here before, your crotch pressed against a pillow, when Rafe forced you for the first time to make yourself orgasm. 

Usually, Rafe was relentless. But as soon as you could put together that you were in his house with no idea how you’d gotten there, his thrusts became sloppier, rushed, and he nestled against the side of your face. His lips brushed your ear, his breath uneven as he spilled inside of you. The intimacy of the moment felt strange, almost out of place, as if he was in a hurry to finish before you fully pieced together what was happening. His weight sagged against you, and for a moment, the room felt suffocating. 

He collapsed beside you, though he kept an arm draped over your stomach. Slowly, you lowered your leg until you were laying straight. 

You didn’t dare move. 

Rafe’s hand brushed against yours and you turned your head quickly to see a concerned look on his face, “Here, let me do it,” You felt that numbness that had been clouding you ever since you realized you controlled nothing. He easily procured the bag from your grip and you watched as he easily took the rest of the bags into his arms. 

When you both retreated back inside, you heaved the massive front door shut again, locking yourself back into your gilded cage. Surprisingly, he helped you unpack the groceries. It would’ve been faster to do on your own, you had to direct him a few times about whether certain items belonged in the fridge or pantry but you tried to be thankful for the help. 

You were putting up the canned goods in the grocery, neatly stacking them on the shelves of the bedroom-sized pantry, when you felt his eyes still watching you, “He sure does talk a lot though, doesn’t he?”

Better not to use his name, “The grocery guy?” You swallowed, speaking slowly in order to keep your voice steady. 

“Connor,” He said, voice dripping in malice. 

“He’s j-j-just being friendly,” You said, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Friendly,” He repeated, his tone mocking, “... You know, I don’t like him talking to you.”

“I-I didn’t encourage it,” You said softly, knowing whatever words you had would be a mistake, “If you don’t like him …I-I c-c-could g-g-go to the store from now on.” 

For a long moment, Rafe didn’t respond, and you found yourself just trying to maintain your composure, canned goods forgotten in your hands, as you waited for his verdict. 

“What do you want me to say, sweetheart?”

You were forcing his hand, asking for too much when you knew he couldn’t give it to you, “Thh-Thhh-That you’ll think about it?” 

Lately, you’d been testing his boundaries. Not answering everytime he called. And when you did answer, your tone was flat and indifferent. Wearing clothes from your wardrobe you knew he’d deem unflattering. Yoga pants or shorts were okay, never sweatpants. He wanted to see your every curve. Every inch of what he believed belonged to him. You were his wife after all, he’d paid a handsome price to get you here. 

Your obedience occurred in waves. A few weeks on and a few weeks off. It was the best way your brain could cope with the control. He’d grow happy, content with your behavior and that’s when you decided to flip a switch. Sometimes, Rafe was almost reluctant to punish you. 

A thought crossed your mind. A way to gain a small ounce of control. Though it came at the high cost of satisfying his urges. You decided to beg. He loved to hear you grovel and degrade yourself. It’s one of the only ways he gets himself off.

“Please,” You whispered, your voice trembling. In your baggy flannel and sweatpants, braids tied back in a messy bun, you stepped forward. You wanted to sound weak. Even weaker than your stammer usually made you sound, “I’ll go with a bodyguard. I-I’ll wear my ring. I won’t t-t-talk to anyone.”

It surprised him. You saw it in the way he shifted on his feet and his head tilted to the side curiously. It was in the way he watched you carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The words were poison on your tongue but it didn’t stop them from filling out. 

“Is that right?” His voice was low and dangerous, how it usually was when he was calculating a devious plan in his mind. 

When the silence decided to stretch again, you filled it, “I’ll be better. I-I know I–I-I’ve been dissapointing you,” You closed the distance until you were inches from him, letting him look down at you, as you turned your eyes downcast. 

“Hmm,” You felt his hand raise and press into the side of your neck, large thumb caressing your jaw, “Then you know that’s the kind of privilege like that you’ll have to work towards?” 

Being trapped here with him felt like you’d fallen to the bottom of the totem pole. Somehow being his assistant, hanging on his arm like arm candy, and keeping his cock warm underneath his desk was better than what you were now. At least then you could see your friends. You could interact with people other than Rafe, Topper and Eleanor. Then you had a job. You were a real human.

“Yes,” You began, “I’ll d-do anything.”

Rafe’s eyes turned down as you reached one of your hands into the waistband of your sweatpants and then beneath the fabric of your underwear. 

“Y/N…” His voice deepened and you looked up at him with big, wanting eyes. 

“Can I please touch myself, Sir?” You asked, “I-I want to shhh-shhhow you how good I can be.”

He kept as still as he could. His eyes were answering your question. He didn’t need to verbally give you permission.Maybe he stayed silent because if he spoke, the desperation in his voice might betray him. Rafe didn’t need his own release in that moment—what he craved more was the sight of you undone, vulnerable, completely under his control. Watching you touch yourself, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, was enough to satisfy him. 

You bit down on your lip, moving your fingers over your soft folds. Gently, you rubbed yourself, teasing yourself. His gaze didn’t waver, but you saw the the way his nose flared, as he tried to keep his composure. 

“Please,” A soft moan escaped your lips as you worked yourself up, the motions becoming smoother as you grew wetter, “P-Please, Sir?”

Rafe inhaled sharply and watched as you reached further, towards your aching hole. He couldn’t see it exactly but you showed him with your eyes, with your parted lips and soft expression, that you dipped a finger inside of your aching hole. 

Despite how you feared him, how he’d ruined your life, you couldn’t help but enjoy the twisted way that you could control him. The tension in the room was thick and you saw the way he was fighting against exerting his control over you, over taking over. Even in a small way, you could make him bend to your will, you saw it in the way his fist clenched at his side. 

Your pace quickened in a way that brought you closer to the edge, the friction sending waves of pleasure over your skin. 

He reached out suddenly, grabbing ahold of your arm, his grip strong but not painful. He pulled your fingers away from underneath your waistband, “You don’t get to finish until I say so,” he murmured, his voice low and authoritative. You kept your expression neutral, though every muscle in your face tensed with the effort to hide your frustration, resisting the urge to press your lips into a thin line, “Take off your clothes for me, sweetheart.”

Your body frustrated, you hurriedly pulled down your sweatpants, exposing your lacy black underwear. Next, you removed the flannel, Rafe’s eyes fixed on your newly exposed skin. You would never admit it, but deep down, you always felt comforted by the fact that never seemed to bore of seeing you. Though you’d never had a traditional honeymoon period, now that you’d lived together for so long, you thought he might lose interest at some point. Everytime he saw you it was like he was seeing you for the first time. 

Every glance he gave you was filled with that same insatiable desire, as though you were still something to unravel. The thought made something flicker inside you, a mixture of fear, and something far more complicated.

You hesitated when it came to your bra and underwear, suddenly hyperaware that Rafe was fully clothed. There he stood in his work attire and part of you wanted to hold onto those inches of fabric, “All of your clothes,” Rafe added, sensing your hesitance, and he didn’t let you stall any longer. You yelped when he grabbed you by the waist, swinging your body onto the cold, marble countertop of the kitchen island. Determined, his fingers pried your underwear down your thighs and you watched them fall to the floor. Your thin bralette was next, and you raised your arms obediently, letting him tug it over your head. 

As soon as you were bare and freezing, Rafe’s lips curled into a devious smirk, “Finish,” He said, “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

His eyes were dark and hungry, watching every movement, every breath you took. Your instinct was to resist, to deny him, but you were too far gone. This is what you wanted in the first place. A trade. Your submission for a chance at freedom. You didn’t test his patience, knowing this was a better option than being bent of the counter. You complied, your hand slowly sliding down your stomach, until they were back between your legs. 

Slow, deliberate circles. 

You were so used to the feeling of shame, the heat you’d feel in your cheeks, the tears that would sting your eyes. Freezing, like a puppy out in the rain, you trembled. The shame was almost ritualistic, something to expect everytime you were intimate. Your body always seemed to respond, anyways. Maybe it was time for you to fully accept your part in this. Maybe you were beginning to crave that feeling. 

Your pace quickened, your fingers moving in urgent circles, and you felt your release building. 

“That’s it,” He said, “You’re already close, aren’t you?”

You nodded, fully aware of the smugness in his tone. Your fingers worked and your moans became louder, “Please,” You begged, that pressure between your legs growing unbearable.

“Please,” You heard yourself say over and over, feeling yourself come undone. His hands slowly move to rest on either side of you, trapping you between the cold marble and his towering figure, “Please, Rafe.”

“Come, sweetheart,” He finally said, “Let me see you fall apart.”

A whimper escaped your lips as your orgasm hit you almost painfully. Your release was inevitable, you’d practically perfected getting yourself off, and your body responded to his commands like a pupper on a string. Your body tensed, your back arching, as you gasped over and over. Your fingers faltered, slowly, but soon there were fingers brushing against that sensitive area again. 

You tried to scoot your body away but Rafe pressed your thigh with his large palm, keeping you pinned. Slowly, he moved his fingers, prolonging that sensation, drawing out your orgasm, “There it is,” He whispered, “Such a good girl when you want something from me, huh?”

You nodded weakly, agreeable. 

As you realized he was trying to work you up again, you panicked, “P-Please.”

“Hmm,” His fingers pressed harder, “Look at you. You know what? If you give me one more, I’ll let you go shopping next week. How’s that sound?”

“I-It hurts,” You whispered, voice braking. A tempting offer that you were now too overwhelmed to even consider. His fingers didn’t relent, rubbing against you harder now, dragging you toward another release whether you wanted it or not.

“That’s not an answer,” Rafe teased, his tone almost playful. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear, “Come on, one more. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Your body betrayed you again. The buildup was slower than your first orgasm, so torturous that tears began to fall down your cheeks. When your body was convulsing again, it was not as sweet as the first, but just as powerful. You came for him again despite how much it hurt, how raw and exposed you felt.

His grip on your thigh relaxed and you body went limp against the counter. You throbbed between your legs, so much so you weren’t sure if you would be able to walk without a limp. You felt his thumb brush over your cheek, wiping your tears, “Good girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Too tired to do anything but lay there, Rafe finally stepped back, leaving you shivering on the cold countertop. A coldness returned to his expression. You’d asked for this. Wanted something from him. Somehow, it felt like you hadn’t won anything at all. Now you were realizing this was a punishment, most likely for your behavior over the past weeks. 

Rafe turned his back on you, as if he hadn’t just pushed your body and mind to the brink, “Maybe I’ll take you shopping after all.” 

The promise of being let out of the house felt hollow. A reminder that your independence was something he could grant, or take away, on a whim. 

You lay there, motionless and speechless, trapped in the swirl of shame, regret, and anger. Then, without warning, a dangerous thought crept in, slipping through the cracks in your resolve: Maybe if I’m good enough, if I do everything he asks, I’ll get more freedom. More moments of escape.But before you could push that thought away, another surfaced, darker and heavier: Maybe I deserve this.

i hope you enjoyed this series!!

[alwaysurvalentine]

Three Strikes and You're Out! - st fic

This is a follow up to: this - wc: 2.8k - cw: nothing to worry about I think!

enjoy! 💛

Eddie decides to talk to Robin first. He’s not sure what to expect when she swings her front door open and yells over her shoulder to Mrs. Buckley. 

“I’ll be back in a bit, go ahead and eat!” 

And then she’s stomping over to his van and looking at him expectantly from the passenger seat. He almost trips rushing to follow her, but is able to start his car in one piece.

“I was wondering when you were going to come by. Steve mentioned things didn’t go over well the other night.” She says it bluntly and Eddie flinches. He knows the other night could’ve gone better. Like a dog with a bone, he’s been dissecting the other night in great detail. Can’t stop thinking of how frustrated Steve seemed with himself, how the words ‘stupid’ and ‘bullshit’ dripped vitriol from his mouth, and how he let the other boy leave in such a hurry. He taps his hands against the steering wheel softly before answering.

“Yeah. It wasn’t good, Birdie. I really messed up.” Personally, he doesn’t think ‘messed up’ really covers it. He feels like he walked himself right off the edge of a pier into icy waters. Steve hasn’t answered the couple of times he’s called and the only reason why Eddie’s not searching town for him is knowing that Steve has at least been giving the brats rides to the arcade. Hearing his voice on the radio has been enough, but Eddie can’t take the closed off silence he’s getting now. 

“So I’ve heard. Wanna tell me how things went from your perspective?”

He tells her the story once they get to the diner. There’s a plate of fries between them but Eddie just picks at them instead of actually eating. Robin’s blue eyes feel like daggers so he’s been more focused on watching the parking lot than looking at her.

“Like I said, I know I messed up.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Robin speaks up again, words calm.

“Do you even know how you did?”

And Eddie realizes, he doesn’t really. He knows Steve is upset but to be this upset over a D&D game? There’s something more under the surface – that’s why he was drawn to Robin. If anyone is going to know what the root of the problem is, it’s Steve’s own nerdy band soulmate. She has to know why Steve pulled away halfway through the session. Eddie had thought things were going well; Dustin had helped Steve with his character, Jeff let him borrow some of his dice, and Steve had been asking questions. But they all asked questions when they started! Sometimes Gareth even had to double check an action versus the rules during his turns. 

The more Eddie thinks about it though, Steve had only asked a couple questions before Mike had made some comment under his breath. It wasn’t long after that that the ex-jock had said he’d be gone for a quick break but to continue without him. A quick break turned into him not coming back to the table at all and Eddie wrapping up the session early to everyone’s disappointment. After everyone went home is when things went downhill, but he still doesn’t know why it bothered Steve so much.

“Eddie.” Robin’s voice sounds pitying, like she’s sad he wasn’t able to make this connection on his own. “You said it yourself, you can’t be good at everything you try the first time. But this is Steve we’re talking about. He feels like he can’t mess up. If he ever slips up, you know what those kids of his do?”

Eddie does. He knows the kids, especially Mike and Dustin, tend to fixate on Steve’s slip ups. They’re just like siblings in that way, but Steve’s always been an only child. Eddie can imagine that the constant harping probably sits a little heavier on Steve’s shoulder than the kids realize. He pulls his gaze from the window and looks at Robin again. 

Something like regret is crawling up his spine – he helped make a space where Steve felt bad for messing up, and then yelled at him for not trying.

“Oh Birdie, I really messed up. How do I fix this? I just wanted to share this with him. And I know all the kids did too. He’s their glorified big brother, whether he realizes it or not – they just want to have more in common with him.” 

She’s nodding along to his words, plate now empty except for the last dredges of the ketchup she’d put there earlier. “Maybe it’s not so much that they need to share what they like with him, but that you guys need to share what he likes. I may not care about sports as much as he does, but I’ve played on bleachers long enough to follow a game. Sometimes that’s what our hang outs are: he puts on the latest game and I paint my nails or work on patches for my jacket. He’s got his own interests, you know? That’s what makes him who he is – he just goes along with what everyone else likes because no one really likes his stuff except for-”

“Lucas. Robin Buckley, you are a genius.”

~

That’s how Eddie finds himself at the Sinclair’s house a couple hours later. He’d radioed Lucas as soon as he dropped off Robin and was pleasantly surprised to find out he was free that afternoon. Things were rocky between them for a while, with Eddie replacing him with Erica while he played the championship game. Steve had been the one to get Eddie to apologize about it. Made Eddie see how important both games had been to Lucas, how unfair it was to force him to pick one over he other. Especially since one has a coach breathing down the players necks to make sure they’re at every game, unlike the Hellfire Club getting to pick their meeting days and times. Lucas forgave him as soon as he said sorry but Eddie vowed he’d do better in the future about re-scheduling to make sure there weren’t issues. He couldn’t imagine having a show and none of his friends showing up. 

“Hey Eddie! Lucas mentioned you were coming by.” Mrs. Sinclair welcomed him in, gesturing for him to follow her into the kitchen. It was nice to be accepted so easily into their home, he’d worried when meeting all of the party's parents that they would decide he was the hell raiser people claimed him to be without giving him a real chance. Looking back, he should’ve known better – there’s no way his sheep would have parents that weren’t at least a little open minded. 

He follows her to the kitchen and gets hit with a wave of warmth and the smell of brown sugar. Mrs. Sinclair slips on a faded blue oven mitt before pulling a tray of cookies from the oven.

“Are the cookies done yet?” Little Erica comes around the corner and raises an eyebrow at Eddie. “And when did you get here?” 

“Just got here. Your mom just pulled the cookies out, so you’ve got impeccable timing as always Lady Applejack.” He grins down at her when she brightens at the promise of warm cookies. It’s nice to see the kids getting to be kids after everything. 

“Lucas is in the backyard, will you bring him some of these before someone tries to eat them all.” Mrs. Sinclair smiles and nods her head towards Erica, who’s trying to save a cookie from the floor since it’s so warm it’s falling apart. 

Lucas tosses the ball as soon as Eddie steps outside and lets out an excited ‘whoop!’ when it goes into the basket. “Nice one?” Eddiesounds less confident when he says it but he’s also very aware he wouldn’t be able to do the same thing no matter how hard he tried. The smile he gets from Lucas rids him of his nervousness though and he holds out the plate of cookies. 

“I’ve been sent with snacks.” The plate’s taken from his hands quickly, cookie in Lucas’ mouth in seconds. 

“Thanks. So what’d you wanna talk about? Not that I don’t like seeing you, we just don’t usually hang out one on one.” 

Guilt fills Eddie’s stomach, especially since he’s here to ask a favor. But honestly, maybe this is good for him. To learn more about Lucas too. 

“Well. I’m gonna level with you. I need you to teach me about sports.”

~

Sports are much more complicated than Eddie ever gave them credit for. Lucas spent the afternoon going over the different rules for basketball. He’d tried to follow as best he could, and while some stuff stuck, like what exactly a three-pointer was and why dribbling was so important – Eddie knows he’s far from being a sports fan. When Lucas had mentioned that Steve’s favorite had been baseball, he’d hoped to learn some there too. But baseball wasn’t Lucas’ passion so he’d put off that research for later.

Even if he didn’t get all of it, it was nice to see Lucas so excited. He’s seen the kid during campaigns, planning out different attacks with the group, but now he’s kind of excited to see him in action on the court. Kid’s got a good heart and with how strongly he adores the group, Eddie knows the passion has to show when he plays. 

So he leaves with a smile on his face and his heart full. He really is lucky to have these people in his life. 

~

“Uncle Wayne! Just the man I wanted to see!” 

Just like he expected, Eddie walks in to the trailer to see Wayne watching a game on the couch. It’s his day off and usually that means Eddie lets him have the trailer to relax until dinner time and then they eat together. Eddie’s cut into a couple hours of what he likes to call ‘Wayne’s TV Time’ but he knows his uncle won’t mind. 

After toeing off his shoes and hanging his vest, Eddie plops down next to Wayne. The older man jostles with the movement but doesn’t say anything as he turns the TV down. All of a sudden, Eddie is nervous. He knows Wayne won’t judge him for asking, especially once he knows why he needs to know all about baseball. But he also hates admitting he hurt someone, unintentional or not.

“Out with it, Ed.” 

Eddie stops messing with his rings at his uncle’s voice. “I need your help with something.” 

“You know I always have your back, what’s going on?” 

And it all spills out. Trying to play D&D with Steve, the conversation after, his goal to understand Steve more before apologizing properly.

“Sounds like you’re already on track. Whatcha need me for?” 

“Well, I’m so glad you asked. IneedyoutoteachmeallaboutbaseballsothatIcantalktoSteveaboutit.”

“How about you try that while breathing?”

“I need you to teach me about baseball so that I can talk to Steve about it.”

~

Thankfully Wayne has the patience of a saint because Eddie asks him a question nearly every time he goes to explain something.

“How do you know it’s in the strike zone?”

“There’s different ways to throw the ball? And it’s all based off of one guy’s hand code on which one to do?”

“So what you’re saying is that every player has different ability scores that make them better players in different positions?” 

“You can steal bases?”

“How come a run isn’t a point?”

“A top and bottom inning? Kinky. Whose idea was that?” 

~

Wayne’s been asleep for a couple of hours when Eddie hears a soft knock at the trailer door. He’d heard a car pull up a few minutes before but just figured it was one of the neighbors finally getting home. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see Steve on his doorstep. 

“Steve?” “Eddie-”

“Come in -” “I just want to say-”

Steve huffs a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners for a second before a small frown overtakes his face. The shadows of the porch make the expression deeper, somber almost.

“Come in for a minute?” He sounds pleading to his own ears, but it doesn’t stop Eddie from backing into the trailer – trusting Steve to follow him to his room. His room is a bit of a mess, clothes on the floor and a couple boxes still left unpacked from when they moved. There’s a a few notebooks laying open on his bed, notes he’d taken today and connections he’s tried to make. He wasn’t quite ready for this talk with Steve but he’s more prepared than he was the other day.

“So, Eddie...I just wanted to say I was sorry.” 

Eddie whips around to face Steve, notebooks now in a stack in his hands. 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

Steve’s brows furrow at Eddie’s words, confusion and indignation filling his eyes. 

“What?”

“Only you would apologize for something that’s not your fault. Unbelievable. Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hut your feelings the other day. I was just so excited for you to be playing with us that I didn’t think about you being nervous about it.” 

The indignation in Steve’s eyes fades and all he’s left with is the eyes of a sad puppy dog. He almost looks lost, shoulders hunched in slightly to make him appear smaller. 

“What does that matter? I still ruined the fun.” Somehow, he makes himself even smaller. Eddie’s stomach turns at the sight. Steve shouldn’t be so practiced in making himself small and Eddie’s going to do everything he can to get him out of that habit.

“No you didn’t. Us being pig-headed ruined the fun. Stop looking at me like that, come here.” His mattress sinks when he sits and he pats the bedding next to him. 

“I mean it, come here. I wanna show you something. It’s what I’ve been working on these couple of days.”

Finally, Steve comes to sit next to him. Unlike so many times before he’s stiff next to Eddie, not letting himself relax. 

“So I’m gonna be honest here. I was really confused when you left the other night. Some of the stuff you said didn’t seem like it was really about me. But that doesn’t matter. You know, why?” 

A shake of his head is the only response Eddie gets.

“Because at the end of the day, we made you feel like you couldn’t ask questions. I made you feel bad too. So I might’ve reached out to a couple of people for help. If it’s one thing that Wayne’s taught me, it’s to apologize. I talked to Buckley first.”

Finally, a small smile from Steve that stays there. 

“She pointed out something I should’ve been able to figure out on my own. We all have our own interests and you always make space for it. But we don’t ever do the same for you.” 

“Ed-”

“Don’t fight me on this. You always let us talk about what we want, you always host for us; you always look out for us. It’s about time more than one of us takes the time to do it for you too. Anyway, so then I talked with the other sports nerds in my life: Lucas and Wayne. And I came up with this!”

Steve hasn’t stopped smiling which is giving Eddie more confidence by the minute. He grabs at the notebooks he moved earlier, flipping back a couple of pages before leaning into Steve’s space. At the top of the page he’s written ‘D&D vs Baseball’. To Steve, the notes probably look crazy. There’s a couple doodles of dice and baseballs around the page and his writing is messy from where he tried connecting the two while laying in his bed.

“What is this?” Gently, Steve takes the notebook from Eddie’s hands, fingers tracing the rough sketch of a baseball field. 

“If you want to give D&D another try, I think I found a better way of describing it.” Eddie’s full on grinning now, knows his dimples are exposed with his happiness. “But, if you never wanna play again I get that too.”

“Eddie.” Only five letters, but Steve still chokes on them slightly. His hazel eyes are filled with tears and the smile drops from Eddie’s face.

“Wait – no, I didn’t mean to make you cry! Was this a bad idea?” He goes to take the notebook back but Steve tightens his grip. Honey eyes lock with Eddie’s even as a tear falls. 

“No, this is so nice.” Steve looks at the notes again and brushes at the tears on his cheeks. “I don’t know what all these notes mean, but it looks like you might be on to something.” 

Steve smiles at Eddie and sets the notebook to the side. And then Eddie’s being hugged. Steve can’t be comfortable, twisted and leaning like he is – but Eddie hugs back anyway. Wraps his arms around Steve and rests a gentle hand on the back of Steve’s head where he’s tucked into Eddie’s neck. Steve squeezes around his middle once and then backs up, tears no longer falling but his smile remaining. 

“Think you can try and explain these notes to me?”

~

Wanted to tag: @adverbally , @ravenfrog , and @blossomingblueberries. Thanks for your support/interest in another part! I hope this did it justice! 💛

Now officially with a third part! pt. 3

[artandthebible]

Christ and St Mary Magdalen at the Tomb

Artist: Rembrandt van Rijn (Dutch, 1606-1669)

Date: 1638

Medium: Oil on Panel

Collection: Royal Collection Trust, United Kingdom

Description

Christ and St Mary Magdalene at the Tomb reveals how imaginatively Rembrandt could interpret traditional religious subject-matter. The scriptural source for this scene is the Gospel of St John (20:11-18), who describes in some detail the burial and subsequent resurrection of Christ following the Crucifixion. Mary Magdalene returns to the tomb early the next morning, only to find the stone at the entrance removed and two angels inside it where the body should have been. She then fetches two of the disciples, who check that the tomb is empty and then leave her. The angels then ask Mary Magdalene, ‘Woman, why weepest thou?’ and she replies, ‘Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.’ At that moment she turns round and sees a man dressed as a gardener, not appreciating that he is the resurrected Christ. She appeals to him for information, but he calls her by her name and she instantly recognises him. (‘Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni; which is to say master.’) Rembrandt has depicted the moment of realisation just before the actual recognition. Most artists chose to paint the next moment in the text, when Mary Magdalene reaches out towards Jesus and he forestalls her with the words ‘Touch me not’ (in Latin, Noli me tangere).

Rembrandt skilfully evokes the dawn as the opalescent light picks out from the darkness the towers of the Temple of Jerusalem, the upper half of the figure of Christ, the face of Mary Magdalene, and the outline of one of the angels in the tomb. This use of light is almost symbolic in both the physical and the spiritual senses. The paint is in general thinly applied and, apart from the treatment of the light and the vegetation around the tomb referring to Christ’s activities as a gardener, could almost be described as monochrome. It is only after a time that the eye focuses on the two female figures (the Gospels of St Mark and St Luke refer to three Maries at the tomb) in the middle distance on the left descending the hill.

Of particular note is the positioning of Christ, who in the relationship established between his partially silhouetted vertical form and the Temple of Jerusalem behind and the rocky cave next to him dominates the composition, whereas the twisting pose of Mary Magdalene is the pivot. The tension created between Christ’s standing figure and the twisting kneeling Mary Magdalene is palpable. The artist’s only other treatment of the subject of Christ and Mary Magdalene is in Brunswick (Herzog Anton Ulrich Museum): it is dated 1651 and is totally different in composition.

[patchworkgargoyle]

Booty 🌿

Steve has a plan, and Eddie falls for it. || read on ao3

Here it finally is, folks! My first smut for the ST fandom. I hope you like it!! Inspired by this post.

WC: ~4.8k || E || CW: Unsafe sex

“Please, Eddie?”

“Are you insane, Steve? It’s hotter than Satan’s taint out there, you cannot expect me to peel myself off this couch.”

Eddie heard a frustrated sigh and a small thud, imagining that Steve had let his head drop on the wall by his phone. “Yeah, I’m aware, I’m sweating buckets right now. But I gotta have the car fixed before tomorrow, I promised Claudia I’d pick up Dustin from the bus station and I can’t do that if it won’t start.”

Thing was, Eddie did kinda want to go and help him, heatwave be damned. They’d grown close in the months since spring break and despite his previous misgivings Eddie had gotten to like Steve. More than he should, really. He can’t help it if his queer little heart does a jig every time he manages to make Steve laugh in that eye-crinkling, head-tipped-back kind of way. Got good at it too, which made Eddie feel a great deal of selfish pride. And if he can’t take his eyes off the long lines of Steve’s mole-dotted neck, that’s his own business.

But this was something else. As soon as Steve called to ask if Eddie would help fix the Bimmer he couldn’t get the thought of him–sweaty and greasy and bent over the open hood of the car, his hair falling just so and lip bitten between his teeth in concentration–out of his dirty little mind. The things he’d want to do. It did as much to convince Eddie to go as it did to make him want to keep his distance.

He was a weak man, however.

“Fine. Alright. But you’d better make it worth my time, I’m risking my pale, un-sunburnt ass for this.”

Steve snorted. “Don’t worry, I will,” he said blandly.

They hung up after Eddie promised to be there in a few minutes, and he rolled off of the couch with a melodramatic groan. Moving in the muggy heat trapped inside the trailer sucked, but he wasn’t going to back out. Steve had sounded so relieved when he’d said goodbye that it gave Eddie enough pep to lurch his way to the kitchen to grab a few cold beers before scrambling into his van. He appreciated his own forethought when he burned his hand on the door handle and could hold a cold bottle against the spot. Fucking summer.

Parking in the Harringtons’ driveway, he spotted the Bimmer pulled halfway into the garage, the front shaded by the overhang in what must be an attempt to avoid the worst of the sunlight. The hood was popped open, but Eddie couldn’t see Steve.

“Ohh Stevie!” he sang, “your knight in shining armour has arrived!” He heard something thunk from the garage but got no response, so he wandered inside, trying to peer around the hood. “I come bearing gifts but they’re gonna get–”

Wheels squeaked from below and Eddie looked down, only to be treated to the sight of Steve’s legs, long and hairy and sprawled open, flexing as he dragged himself out from under the car on the creeper and revealing more inches of mouth-watering thighs. He was–oh fuck, Steve was wearing the tiniest cut-off jean shorts Eddie had ever seen, the fabric of the pockets poking out from under the frayed hems. They were tight, too, hugging his hips and, god, his bulge. The white tank top Steve wore had ridden up, too, exposing the trail of hair that dipped below the fucking shorts, but Eddie followed it up, along the grease stains and the swell of his pecs to Steve’s grinning face.

“...Hot.” Eddie’s voice cracked around the word.

“What was that?” Steve asked.

Clearing his throat, Eddie said, “The beer, it’s uh, gonna get hot.” Somehow he managed to not sound like he was choking on his own drool while Steve still stared up at him from the ground, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. There was a slight smear of dirt across his cheek and Eddie wanted to lick it off.

“You know where the fridge is, Eddie, if you’re that worried.”

“Nah, you look like you need a break. Get up here,” he said, waggling the bottle over Steve’s face. Steve chuckled but finally stood and relieved Eddie of the misery of seeing Steve on his back and not having been the one to put him there.

He popped the caps off with the bottle opener on his keychain, and Steve took his with a ‘thank you,’ downing half in a few gulps. Eddie distracted himself from the sight of Steve’s throat bobbing by peering over at the engine.

“So what’s the issue, doc?”

Steve pulled away from the bottle with a soft popping sound from his pink lips and a gasp. “Dunno yet. That’s why I called you,” he said, leaning on the car beside Eddie. “Oil and battery are fine, spark plugs look good too.”

“She been making a sputtering kind of sound recently? Could be the throttle.”

“Nah, no weird noises.”

Eddie hummed, then set his bottle aside. “Alright, let’s get underneath her then.” Lowering himself onto the creeper and sliding under the car, he said, “Could be a belt has finally busted. Got a flashlight?”

“Really need to ask that?” Steve’s voice got fainter as he walked a little ways away. “The kids insisted on a disaster preparedness kit after round two with the Upside Down.”

There was a tap on the wood under Eddie’s hip, and blindly he reached down to grab the flashlight Steve found. He tinkered around under the Bimmer, unable to wipe away the sweat that started to drip and stick his bangs to his forehead. But eventually he began to roll back out into open, but no less stupidly hot, air.

“Looks like everything’s shipshape, captain–” Eddie choked on his own words when he looked up and was met with a sight straight out of his wet dreams.

Steve stood over Eddie, his legs spread wide enough that Eddie had rolled right between them. If he sat down, Steve would be straddling Eddie’s hips, but that would deprive him of this new angle at which to admire all of Steve’s assets wrapped so tightly in frayed, lightwash denim. Mouth falling open, Eddie let out an eloquent, “Uhhh,” and Steve laughed, holding out his hand.

“Thought you’d like a hand,” Steve explained, smirking.

He took it without thinking and let Steve haul him off the creeper board and up to his feet. A kick, and Steve sent the board skittering away underneath the car, but Eddie barely winced at the noise. He was too busy standing so close to Steve that they breathed the same humid air. If he so much as swayed, their noses would bump together. Christ, Steve had pretty eyes, a bright, warm brown flecked with amber even in the shade of the garage and he swore he could see Steve’s pupils dilate the longer their gazes locked together.

“So, what were you saying?” Steve asked in a low tone. He tilted his head ever so slightly and those eyes held some kind of dare within them, one eyebrow ticked upward. Eddie couldn’t help swallowing, licking his lips, and Steve went from staring into Eddie’s eyes to down at his lips.

“Just saying that, that everything looked fine. Might, uh, might be the crankshaft or the–” Steve stepped forward just enough to bring their chests together, the back of Eddie’s knees hitting the bumper, and Eddie’s breath hitched, his voice cracking, “��the sensor.”

“Eddie.” The way Steve said his name sent a frisson of heat through Eddie, right to his dick, which was becoming a very obvious guest between them.

“Yeah, Stevie?” he whispered.

Broad, warm hands wrapped around Eddie’s slim hips. Steve worked a finger through a belt loop on each side and tugged, and Eddie realised he wasn’t the only one with a hard on when Steve’s pressed up against his own, pulling a hiss of pleasure from them both. Oh, shit. Leaning impossibly closer, Steve’s lips brushed against Eddie’s when he spoke. “I don’t care about the car right now.”

That snapped whatever faint, lingering reservations Eddie had. “Fuck, Stevie, please kiss m–” He didn’t even finish before Steve’s lips crashed into his, plush and hungry. It wasn’t long before Eddie began to nip and lick, his teeth drawing short, pleased noises from Steve’s mouth before he pulled back a scant inch.

“Fucking finally,” Steve said, and dove back in, biting back, making Eddie groan. His hands found their way to Steve’s sides, then, spurred on by Steve’s enthusiasm, he reached down and grabbed at his ass. His fingers wrapped under the hem and he yanked Steve’s hips in and up, rising to meet them.

Steve’s cock grinding against Eddie’s was a fucking revelation. From the way Steve’s mouth parted with a hot gasp, Eddie guessed he felt the same. “Hold on, baby,” he rasped, and using what leverage he had, Eddie hoisted Steve onto his lap, Steve’s knees spread and braced on the car. There was no way he could keep them there for long, but fuck it was hot, rutting their hips together while they kissed, wet and messy.

Eddie tasted the salt of his own sweat when Steve licked into his mouth and moaned, hands fisted into the denim in his grip, feeling more sweat beginning to drip down his back. The heat was stifling, but nothing compared to what started to grow in Eddie’s gut. One of Steve’s hands buried in his curls and pulled, had Eddie bucking up and whimpering around Steve’s tongue. He could come like this, dry humping on top of the Bimmer, lap full of Steve in those shorts, hands on his perfect ass, would’ve if the idea weren’t more embarrassing than hot.

“St-Steve, wait,” Eddie panted, whining again when Steve’s hand clenched in his hair again.

“Why’d you stop? Don’t wanna stop, Eddie,” Steve groaned, before a little more clarity seeped into him and he leaned back into his arms, concerned. “Or, shit, wait, is this okay?”

“God, fuck yes this is okay. Been thinking about this forever, man.” Steve smiled widely, verging on a little goofy, before ducking in and pressing open-mouthed kisses to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s arms began to shake. His legs had long since begun to tremble. “But, hang on, ah, I’m gonna either drop you or come in my shorts in like two minutes if we don’t rethink this.”

All that did was make Steve start rocking into him again. “Hot,” he mumbled as he licked up a trail of sweat under Eddie’s jaw, making Eddie swear and tip his head back.

Eddie’s knees decided to buckle right then. They shouted, Eddie scrambled, locking Steve in his arms and getting his feet under himself before standing, his hands still hooked around Steve’s ass while Steve’s legs clung to his waist. Steve’s shocked expression likely matched Eddie’s, before he rested his forehead against Eddie’s and laughed so hard his body shook. Helpless, Eddie joined in, holding Steve close while their giggling faded out. But his arms were aching so, gently, he put Steve down.

“Do you wanna stop?” Steve asked. Eddie shook his head.

“You?” Steve shook his. “Thank fuck,” Eddie said. He ran his hands over Steve’s ass, over the crease of his thigh, the tips of his fingers tickling the hair on the back of his thighs before guiding him close again. “Didn’t wanna let you go now that I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Steve dove into Eddie’s mouth with a hungry groan. The slick sounds of their lips echoed in the garage. With a tug, Steve turned them around and backed up into the car, his hands wandering underneath Eddie’s cut up Iron Maiden tee and clutching at his sides, over the fresh demobat scars, nails digging in bluntly.

Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off Steve either. He pawed at whatever he could, finding the places that made Steve pant and hum into his mouth. But he wanted more, because Eddie has always been a bit greedy. One hand snaked its way around to cup Steve through the shorts that barely contained him, pressing his fingers around the hard outline of Steve’s cock and squeezing, rubbing. The low, raspy moan he got for his efforts made Eddie grin wolfishly.

Head lolling back, Steve breathed hard and rose to meet each stroke of Eddie’s palm. Eddie began to bite and suck his way down the strong line of Steve’s neck, biting every mole he could find. “E-Eddie, I want you to fuck me.”

The words made Eddie bite down just shy of too hard. Steve whined, and Eddie lapped at the spot in apology. “I wanna, I wanna so bad, Steve, but we’re fucking filthy, sweetheart,” he mumbled into Steve’s neck.

“Don’t need to do anything. I, mmh, prepared for this.”

Eddie pulled back to blink at him in disbelief. “You what?”

“I’ve been wanting this for months and nothing was working! So I just, made this as obvious as I fucking could.”

“Months?” Eddie’s jaw dropped when Steve gave him a look that managed to be both fond, flirty, and frustrated. “I could’ve been fucking you for months!?”

“Or I could’ve been fucking you.”

That idea, as sexy as it was, had to be pushed aside before it managed to make Eddie’s horny little brain leak out of his ears. “Putting a pin in that, that’s absolutely gonna happen, but I wanna revisit something. You prepared?”

Steve smirked. “Yeah,” he said, simple and cocky and so hot Eddie could combust. Eddie tried to capture Steve’s lips again but Steve stopped him with a firm hand against his chest, pushing Eddie back a few steps. Turning, he closed the hood of his car and instead of twisting back around to face Eddie, Steve leaned on his arms and arched his back.

Now that was a sight. Steve’s long, tan legs spread just so, one knee cocked to give a slight tilt to his hips. The firm, round swell of his ass peeking out under the denim that struggled to hold together. And right on the apex of those pretty, biteable, jean-clad cheeks: two dark, dirty handprints. There’s even the blackened imprint of fingers on Steve’s skin. Eddie’s fingers, Eddie’s hands. His cock twitched against his zipper and he moaned out, “Ohhh my god…”

Looking over his shoulder, Steve’s smug smirk grew, and he tilted his hips up a little further. “I know I look good, Munson, but are you gonna do something about it or what?”

Eddie stepped forward and draped himself along the expanse of Steve’s back, rutting his hips into Steve’s and making him hum sweetly. “Don’t have to get bratty about it, baby,” he said. He dragged his fingers along Steve’s sides, letting his nails catch on the soft texture of Steve’s scars before dipping down and popping his button open in one swift motion. “Tell me how you prepared.”

He felt the shiver his words evoked run down Steve’s spine. As he slid the zipper down and slid his hand in to find Steve had gone commando–both of them groaning when Eddie’s hand wrapped around Steve’s leaking, twitching cock–Eddie nuzzled into the dip between Steve’s ear and neck, inhaling the scent of his sweat and musk and the faint traces of a clean, fresh cologne valiantly hanging on.

“I, I got this toy. In Indy,” Steve gasped as Eddie pumped him, pulling his cock out as his hand sped up the more Steve spoke. “Worked myself open on it.”

“What’dya think of?” Eddie squeezed.

“You,” Steve keened, jerking into Eddie’s grip.

“Fuck. God. Alright, enough of this.” Standing, Eddie took his hand away and ignored the needy noise Steve made to instead yank the shorts down. Steve only bothered to step out of one leg, having to kick his foot when they got stuck on his shoe. It made his cheeks jiggle. Eddie couldn’t resist giving him a few taps just to watch it again before spreading those cheeks with his thumbs. More dirt smeared over Steve’s dewy skin, but that was only the opening act. The true star of the show glistened with lube and twitched under Eddie’s hungry stare, already loose and used and ready for him. He held himself back from burying his tongue in Steve’s hole, but just barely, letting out a low, hungry rumble instead.

Eddie couldn't move fast enough after that. He grappled with his belt, popped the button of his shorts and shoved them and his boxers out of the way enough for his cock to spring out without help. Then he stepped forward. Eddie let out a shuddering gasp when his aching cock met the searing heat of Steve’s taint and smeared precome along it, echoed when Steve sighed unsteadily as his head slipped up, up, up. Brushed over Steve’s hole once, twice, before catching on the rim.

“Please, Eddie,” Steve whined as he pushed back, and who was Eddie to deny such a pretty request?

He thrust forward and sank into Steve with a slick sound and such little resistance that Eddie’s jaw dropped open in a soundless moan, eyelids fluttering at the hot, wet clench of muscle around him. Another thrust and Steve groaned thickly, his head tilting back so Eddie could see how his bitten-red lips parted deliciously.

“Steve, you good? Please tell me you’re good. Fuck. I wanna fuck you so bad, you feel so good, hot, please Steve,” Eddie begged and rambled, his hands shaking with the need to grab and pull and take.

“If you don’t fucking start right now I’m leaving–”

That was all the permission Eddie needed.

He sank slowly past that ring of muscle and Eddie didn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed about the high-pitched, breathy whine that escaped him. Steve really had prepped, just loose enough and slick enough, but he still took his time. He wanted to savour this, the way he slid into Steve’s tight heat, how the feeling made his legs tremble and his stomach clench. Steve deserved the caution. At first, at least.

“Tell me,” Eddie demanded, needing to talk to distract from the sheer feeling of bliss of being enveloped by Steve. “Tell me about what you were thinking when you fucked yourself on that dildo.”

Steve’s head tilted back with a moan, his brows drawn together, and Eddie longed to bite and lick the strong column of his throat, but he didn’t want to get distracted. He wanted to know.

“I thought about your fingers, first. Those rings, fuck, they drive me nuts. Wish you’d worn them today.” Eddie gave his hips a firm squeeze, fingers spread wide to catch as much soft skin as he could, and grinned when he felt Steve clench around him and heard a stuttering breath.

“I’ll wear them next time, big boy. Wanna see how good they look when I’m jerking you off.” The appreciative groan caused by Eddie’s words was divine.

“God yes. Next time.”

Of course it was then that the phrase sunk in. Next time. Eddie hadn’t even noticed he’d said it but Steve repeating it had something other than raging hormones rising in his gut. He didn’t even have time to process the implication because Steve kept going, and started meeting Eddie’s thrusts with small movements of his own.

“Then I thought about your dick. Y’know, it’s so hard not to stare when you get out of the pool.”

“Did you?”

“Duh.” Steve shot a bitchy look over his shoulder. The usual power behind the look was lost in the bright red flush on his face. It completely fell apart when Eddie shifted and hit somewhere new, Steve’s mouth dropping open with a guttural noise that made Eddie’s cock twitch. “S-shit, it’s so perfect,” he said.

Steve’s head hung loose from his shoulders, forehead resting on the hood of the car, needy, lingering moans bouncing off the metal, breath and sweat condensing on it while Eddie inched further into him every time he slid out and pressed back in. With his palms on the Bimmer, Steve used the leverage to rock into Eddie, the muscles in his shoulders rippling under the white cotton tank starting to go translucent with sweat.

Watching his cock steadily disappear into Steve’s hole was addicting. He leaned back to get a better view of how he split Steve open between the grimy handprints he’d left on the globes of his ass, placed his hands there again and dug his nails in, making Steve’s hips jerk so that Eddie sank the rest of the way with a groan.

“God, Eddie,” Steve mumbled, “fuck, you feel so. So, uh, so good.”

“Y-you too, baby.” Eddie could barely form words. The tight pressure around his cock threatened to end things there and then, but Eddie closed his eyes and breathed, letting the fire and the urge and the want die down to a less immediate threat. But then he opened his eyes, saw how good they looked locked together, the way his darker thatch caught against the lighter brown hairs decorating Steve’s ass, both of them wet from the lube he’d pushed out of his hole, and jesus fucking christ he didn’t want, he needed.

Pulling out slowly and bracing Steve’s hips with a punishing grip was the only warning he gave before snapping forward with a loud grunt, the slap of damp skin a filthy echo in the garage. Steve cried out at the second hard thrust, choked off when Eddie kept going, his hips picking up speed.

“Good?” Eddie gasped. Nodding, Steve uttered a desperate, pleading ‘yes’ that made him fuck into Steve faster.

“Look so fucking hot, Steve,” he started babbling, his voice reedy with pleasure. “God, my handprints on you. Want ‘em to stain, be there forever.” Steve moaned and Eddie felt him tighten around his cock. “Like that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, fuck, I do, I do!”

Eddie leaned forward, draped himself across Steve’s back, and the angle was so fucking good, so much better, and he knew he’d started pounding into Steve’s prostate by the way his gasps had turned into a delicious mix of thin moans and choked out grunts. Fucking him into the car, Eddie let his hands roam. He rucked up the tank top, watched as the last of the dirt on his hands smeared over Steve’s perfect, scarred skin like loving and greedy claw marks. Finding a nipple, he pinched and squeezed until Steve writhed and squirmed.

Then Steve reached up. Buried a hand into Eddie’s hair, grabbed a handful and pulled.

“Oh fuck!” Eddie whined, his hips stuttering, the pain mixing with pleasure and zinging down his spine.

Steve chuckled, unsteady and breathy but so self-satisfied. “Thought about this… for so long, Eddie.”

“Thinkin’ about me so much, sweetheart. I’m honoured. What, hah, what did you think about?” he asked into Steve’s neck, lips catching on his skin, tempting him to lick, to bite. He did, groaning at the taste of salt.

“This. On your couch, by the pool, my bed, anywhere. Been desperate for it.” Steve pulled Eddie closer by his hair while he bounced back on Eddie’s cock as if to prove it. “Or, shit, bending you over that throne of yours and fucking you into it.” Eddie let out a pitchy whimper and Steve cooed in a way that could’ve been condescending but instead made Eddie melt. “But now, now that I know the kinds of fucking sounds you make–t-there, yes–I wanna take you apart. Slow a-and gentle until you’re a mess–”

He cut himself off with a broken moan. Eddie’s hips kept up their brutal pace with short, sharp, hard thrusts, the sound of their sweat-slicked fucking and and the jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle filling the room. His brain was nothing but static. The image was stuck in a loop like the end of a record left to spin. Eddie heard a desperate, animalistic whine and realised it came from himself.

“Close, baby?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded frantically, his lips dragging through beads of sweat dripping down his neck. He’d been holding it off, the fraying coil threatening to snap, his balls aching as they slapped into Steve’s asscheeks.

“You?” Eddie wanted to beg for Steve to be ready. 

“Getting there, just, don’t stop,” Steve gasped.

Twisting, Steve pulled Eddie down to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, fingers tangled in his damp curls. Their tongues met sloppily. Shared panting breaths like trying to inhale each other. Eddie’s thrusts were starting to falter. He was going to shake apart at this rate. Might just shatter when he comes, the pressure and heat and need too much and so fucking perfect.

“Steve,” Eddie whined, and Steve’s eyes met his. “So good to me, Stevie, sweetheart. Feel so wet, fuckin’ beautiful. Nee–mmh–need you, need you to come, please baby, please.”

“Touch me,” Steve said, practically commanded, and Eddie wasted no time.

Spitting in his hand and hoping it was enough, Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s dick, mixing his spit with the shocking amount of precome leaking from the head and spreading it over his length. Christ he was hung. Steve let out a relieved sigh, which Eddie swallowed, smashing their lips together again while fucking hard enough that he rocked Steve into his fist. Steve started making little ah, ah, ah noises. Next time–please let there actually be a next time–he’d worship this cock in the ways he wanted to, the ways Steve deserved, but for now he pumped him mercilessly. Then, then.

Steve seized, a full-body tremble ripping through him as he came, pulsing in Eddie’s hand as he tightened around Eddie’s cock and he was so fucking gorgeous, plush kissed-red lips open in a silent scream, so hot and tight and, and, and–

With a hoarse shout, Eddie came too, rutting helplessly into Steve as he rode out the sparking shockwaves that also had him shaking, the wet sounds between them even more obscene with Eddie’s come slicking the way. He finally stopped when Steve’s whimpers sounded a little too sharp. Breathing heavily, Eddie braced himself on the hood of the car on weak arms to keep himself from collapsing on top of Steve, only letting his head rest in the crook of Steve’s neck where he left one final, achingly gentle love bite.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed contentedly, leaning his head against Eddie’s, their damp hair sticking together.

“Gonna pull out now, Stevie, okay?” When Steve just nodded lazily, Eddie slowly pulled out, both of them groaning at the feeling. And he couldn’t keep himself from parting Steve’s cheeks to see his come dribble out a little, feeling a great deal of pride and greedy satisfaction at the sight.

“Bit late to ask, but you’re still clean, right? After all those tests for the bat bites?” Steve asked, grimacing when he stood up. He was the perfect picture of debauchery, only wearing his rumpled, practically see-through tank top, socks, and shoes, with his hair a wild mess and sweat still dripping from his forehead. The dirty fingerprints and red marks starting to bloom on his neck and hips were Eddie’s favourite part.

“Yep, only time I’ll ever thank those shady government fuckers for poking me with all those needles.” Eddie grinned at Steve’s tired, but fond, chuckle.

Steve looked at the car with heavy-lidded eyes, then did a double-take. “Shit, I gotta wash that off.” There, on the shiny burgundy hood of the Bimmer, was the white splash of Steve’s come, stark against the dark colour. Eddie started cackling and Steve complained, “Dude, shut up, it’ll ruin the paint!” 

“Gonna wash your car without these, Winnie the Pooh?” Eddie bent down to scoop up Steve’s shorts, dangling them from a finger. He laughed when Steve snatched them back with a glare that barely hid his begrudging smile. While he stepped back into them with a wince, Eddie said, “Interesting choice of clothing to work on your car, by the way.”

“Worked, though, didn’t it?”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed when Steve smiled innocently and shrugged before he wandered off to get a chamois towel and soap. And it clicked. “You planned this? You lured me in with slutty shorts?”

Tossing the towel up and catching it, Steve’s smile widened into something smug. “Yep.”

“Wait. Is the car even broken?”

Steve just offered Eddie another sly shrug and started wiping his come off the hood.

[n33dlew0rk]

Bad Boy Boogie

I’m thinking about how in The Dirt they depicted Vince Neil as someone who was not into the alternative scene as much as Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee were.

And I'm thinking about Steve being recruited in some glam rock band in a similar way after he’s been scraping the barrel for a few years because his poor excuse of a father kicked him out and cut him off for being queer:

He’s working dive bars, strip clubs, lame pool parties, whatever gets some food, smokes and the occasional joint on his table. He liked to sing when he was younger, but it was never something he thought would be one of his main income sources in his twenties. So it's like you know whatever, as long as it keeps him alive and kicking.

He’s not very social these days, too busy surviving the late 80’s. But someone from high school still remembers him from his King Steve days, knows what happened because of the typical small town talks + sees him kind of around the scene sometimes, between Indianapolis and Chicago, hears him sing lame slow ballads and chart stuff.

So after some laughs (he does not take the thing seriously at first) and some uncertainty (money is not guaranteed ofc), he gets recruited and slowly starts to fully embody this glam rock sexy kind of androgynous and ambiguously sensual charismatic frontman role.

They do good. Like really good. Papers talk about them, mothers pray clutching their pearls, kids go nuts. Their gigs are sweat, fishnets, smeared make-up, tall boots, short skirts, tight pants.

---

Now cut to Eddie and Corroded Coffin, still a small town band, still dreaming big. But someone in their extended friend circle, probably someone a little bit less socially awkward than them, knows someone in Indi, who knows someone in Chicago, who finally hooks them up to open for a bigger band on a small state tour. Only it's Steve's band.

Eddie is fuming.

Not only did a fucking jock got to get bigger in music faster than him, he also did it in a genre that was not popular among metalheads. Even Metallica had feuds with Mötley Crüe, after all. You know that thin veil of elitism that makes metalheads a real pain in the ass despite how intensely GAY most of Judas Priest’s lyrics are.

By the way, back to Eddie.

Fuming.

He doesn't wanna go. Pleads the guys to please have some integrity, for fuck’s sake. Tries to convince the owners of The Hideout to make them play more nights.

But when money is thrown into it, like actual money, money like a month’s worth of day jobs, he can’t really say no to the proposition.

So they go.

Eddie refuses to even listen to the other band's demos, determined to spend the entire tour playing his own set and then getting blackout drunk in the back of the van for the remainder of the night.

He manages to do just that for the first two nights, until he gets cut off from the free alcohol because the bar owner is a sad greedy bastard.

And since spending a whole evening sober inside a van is not nearly as fun as he thought, he goes back inside, searching for his bandmates, barely managing to move through waves of sweaty half naked people and groupies.

A disappointed growl leaves his throat as the lights go down while he’s still in the middle of the pit. Scorned and absolutely annoyed to the core, he turns towards the stage, fully prepared to boo his way to the side of the room.

So you can imagine how totally and utterly shocked he is when Steve fucking Harrington appears: red cowboy boots under the tightest leather pants ever created by humankind, held together by flimsy flimsy strings on the sides. A brutally ripped white tank top (more like a sad reminder of it) under a goddamned leather harness with spikes and chains, all of this on top of his hairy, toned (is that glitter??) chest. Black make-up beautifully ruined under his rich brown eyes, a shadow of red lipstick on his lips. A black bandana tied around his forehead like a crown over his messy mullet (still rich in volume, that’s a magic trick the king still brings along for the journey).

Eddie feels like a lost greek sailor hearing the sirens for the first time.

Mouth: dry.

Hands: sweaty.

Jeans: dangerously tight.

The place feels like a fucking furnace and he cannot, for the love of all things unholy, tear his gaze away from Steve’s body, his face, the way he cups the microphone, how he grinds on the mic stand, how he falls onto his knees during guitar solos panting in front of his guitarist.

Lastly, I'm thinking about when the show is over and a phantom trace of Eddie’s rationality tries to persuade him that Steve will turn back into his jock self, preppy clothes and all, like a rock'n'roll Cinderella; but instead Steve smiles big to the crowd, tears the bandana from his head, wipes away some of the sweat from his neck and then stuffs the very same black bandana right into his right back pocket.

Gareth and Jeff literally have to drag poor Eddie out of the venue because his knees are so wobbly they stopped working indefinitely.

[munsonsprincess11111]

What now.

Eddie munson x reader

Summary: your Jim hoppers daughter and Eddie gets arrested by him. So you go down to the station to see him when hopper tells u. Keeping Eddie company while you wait for Wayne to bail him out.

You wake up Saturday morning going to the kitchen to make breakfast. Your dad comes walking out already dressed for work. "How was work-" You go to ask but get sut off by him taking your piece of toast and speaking.

"Munson boy was arrested by me at 10pm last night for speeding n having alcohol on him would've let him go if I didn't have Powell with me. He's at the station still you coming down or what." HE says eating while buttoning his chief shirt.

You stand there staring at your dad in shock. "Um yeah lemme get dressed." You say dropping the butter knife running to your bedroom. You hated when this happend. The thought of Eddie being sat cold n on his own.

You put on a pair of Eddie's grey sweats he left at yours once and a baggy tee then grabby a change of clothes for Eddie. For some reason the bot would give you his clothes cause he "loves you and wants you to have something so you feel safe when he's not around."

You get into the passenger side of your dad's vehicle and off he drives to the station. When you arrive Powells stood in the main bit and sees you. "NO. Nope. She can't be here." HE says trying to get hopper to make you leave.

"1) she's my kid. 2) I'm chief of police not you. 3) I Dont seem to give a fuck. 4) wheres the boy?" HE says looking Powell in the eyes. He then signals to the cells. Hop grabs the keys and leads you there. You arrive at a cell and see Eddie asleep in jeans and his keatger jacket on the uncomfortable bed. Hopper bangs his walkie against the bar which Eddie started awake to

"Rinse and shine dickhead you've got a visitor." Hop says smirking at Eddie when he falls off the bed.

"Thought people didn't get visitors when they were here. Unless it's Wayne here to kill me. If it is tell him I'm already dead?" Eddie says tryna sound cock not realising your stood behind your dad. You roll your eyes even though neither of the boys can see.

"OK fine common visitor let's get you in your way." Hop says walking off hand on your back. Then Eddie sees you.

"Fuck. Y/n hey babe. How are you?" HE says knowing your probably pissed.

"The fuck was you thinking speeding with beer in the van. N then getting cock to my fucking dad. Eddie you absolutely prick." You say looks frustrated. Eddie hold the bars putting his face in-between two and his arms through two other gaps. Putting his hands on your face.

"I wasn't drunk I did a beer run. N I didn't mean to speed. And I was bored." Eddie says running his thumb up the side of your face.

"As amusing as this is Eddie get off the bars n ill let her in." Hopper says approaching the lock. Eddie playfully throws himself to the back wall crossing his arms smirking. You enter and hopper locks the door behind you. "Don't do anything stupid I'm sat over there." HE said pointing a finger at Eddie before walking off.

Eddie walks over to you putting his arms around you pulling you in for a hug. You hug him back.

"Bought you change of clothes can't imagine Jens are comfy." You say golfing out sweats and a top for him. "Thanks princess." HE says kissing you sweetly. "Is anyone looking?" HE askes.

You giggle looking over your shoulder. "NO Eddie be quick." You say

The boy quickly drops his jeans kicking them behind him pulling the sweats up his legs. He notices you starring but doesn't say anything. He will tease you later. The he strips of his jackets and tee shirt. Sniffing the tee smirking and throwing it st your face. He laughs putting the fresh top as you throw the dirty one back at him.

"You stink." You say Pulling a face of disgust.

"I know you do but what do I?" HE says smugly. "Come sit on the floor." Eddie says dropping on the floor. You roll your eyes and ait next to him. His arm going around your shoulders and your head on his shoulder. "Thank you." HE mumbles kissing your head.

"For what?" You ask looking him in the eyes.

"Bringing me clean clothes. Sitting in here with me. Just everything. I love you." HE says kissing you softly. "I love you too." You mumble kissing him back.

Wayne soon arrives paying Eddie bail eith Eddie's stash of cash for moments like these.

"Alright munson your outta here." Hopper says unlocking the cell.

"Sweet." HE says standing up grabbing your hand snd pulling you up. You both walk out the cell holding hands. And Eddie holding his other clothes in his other hand. "Munson. Stop speeding when you onow you've got stuff your not allowed in the van for Christ's sake and y/n you can stay at Eddie tonight home by lunch time." Hopper says waving you both over to Wayne.

"Really Eddie." Wayne says looking annoyed.

"Whoops?" Eddie says but more like a question.

-one hour later-

"M telling ya if I knew he was out I wouldn't of swear baby." Eddie says walking into his bedroom holding his popcorn trying to defend himself about his situation.

"It's over now just be more careful." You say flopping on Eddie's bed crawling up to thr pillows. Eddie sets his popcorn on the bedside table jumping on you fo you kissing you passionately. The kiss escalates quick and sliding your (his) sweat pants down your legs when

BANG BANG BANG. on his bedroom door.

"DONT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT YOU 2 OR HOPPER WILL BE IN HERE ARRESTING YOU FOR WHAT YOUR ABOUT TO DO." Wayne shouts from the over side of the door.

"Kay." Eddie say not moving hearing his uncle foot steps get further away as he continues stripping you. "You still down?" HE askes kissing your neck. You nod and let out a quiet moan and he smirks into your neck.

"Good cause its gonna be a long night" he says grinding himself into your pussy that's covered by nothing as you wore no underwear that day. Eddie slides his trousers down his legs then his boxers leaving them around his thighs just incase. He puts the tip of his cock at your soppy hole.

"Ready?" HE askes as you nod. He slides in slow and you throw your head back. Eddie kisses you to stop you moaning loud. He starts to thrust in and out of you slowly. Your hands in his hair as he kisses you stopping both your moans.

His hands on your hips helping his thrusts so they wasn't to erratic. One of his hands goes under your shirt to your boob and he plays with your nipple between his thick fingers.

His thrusts are slow but deep hitting all the good spots. He slides his hand between your bodies slowing playing with your clit. You stangke a moan as he works his thrusts to playing with your clit making you feel like you was in heaven.

His mouth moves to your neck sucking and biting leaving dark marks. Then kissing the places he sucked and bite lightly. He removes jis hands from you propping himself on his forearms looking into your eyes.

"My pretty girl. Look so pretty like this hun. My cock deep inside you. Fuck I love you." HE says lowly. You clench around him ad your orgasm approaches. Eddie knows your body well enough to know when your gonna cum. "That's it baby let go cum for me." You bite own on his shoulder at his words and cum all over his cock.

Eddie thrusts slightly faster as you tighten from your orgams and cums after you dropping his head to your shoulder.

After coming down he looks you in the eyes and smiles hugging you. "I love you." HE says kissing you on the lips sweetly. "I love you too." You smile back into the kiss

"OH and by the way next time I'm gonna fuck you until you forget your name and only remember mine." HE says smirking so you knew you'd be getting it rough.

You slap his back playfully and he laughs. "Fucking freak" You giggle eing the only person who can call him that and him love it.

"Your fucking freak."

[ellswritings]

Masterlist ;)

*= smut

The Hunger Games

Imagines

Finnick Odair

Wasting All These Tears On You

Peeta Mellark

They Don't Know About Us

Katniss Everdeen

Johanna Mason

Haymitch Abernathy

Cato Hadley

Marvel Sanford

Clove Kent

Coriolanus Snow

Sejanus Plinth

Series

none yet :(

Teen Wolf

Imagines

Scott McCall

Stiles Stilinski

Derek Hale

Jealousy, Jealousy

Peter Hale

Chris Argent

Lydia Martin

Issac Lahey

Allison Argent

Malia Hale/Tate

Liam Dunbar

Kira Yukimara

Series

Lupus Nox- S1 Cast, Prologue, S1 E1, S1 E2, S1 E3, S1 E4, S1 E5, S1 E6, S1 E7, S1 E8, S1 E9,

The Maze Runner

Imagines

Thomas

Newt

Minho

Gally

Aris

Brenda

Sonya

Harriet

Series

none yet :(

Marvel

Imagines

Steve Rogers

Sparks Fly

Tony Stark

Bucky Barnes

Loki Laufeyson

Natasha Romanoff

Clint Barton

Logan Howlett

Peter Quill

Misery Loves Company

Gamora Ben Titan

Peter Parker

Peter Parker (TASM)

Thor Odinson

Michelle Jones-Watson

Wanda Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff

Series

none yet :(

Once Upon A Time

Imagines

Regina Mills

Emma Swan

Killian Jones

David Nolan/Prince Charming

Peter Pan

Rumplestiltskin

Neal Cassidy/Baelfire

Series

none yet :(

Bridgerton

Imagines

Anthony Bridgerton

How To Be A Heartbreaker

Colin Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

King George

Simon Bassett

Eloise Bridgerton

Series

none yet :(

Harry Potter

Imagines

Harry Potter

About Time

Ron Weasley

Hermoine Granger

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

James Potter

Draco Malfoy

Lucius Malfoy

Tom Riddle

Luna Lovegood

Bellatrix Lestrange

Series

none yet :(

Glee

Imagines

Finn Hudson

Sam Evans

Jesse St. James

Quinn Fabray

Santana Lopez

Brittany S. Pierce

Rachel Berry

Mercedes Jones

Mike Chang

Noah Puckerman

Series

none yet :(

Criminal Minds

Imagines

Aaron Hotchner

Undercover Heat

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

No Place Like Home

Emily Prentiss

Jennifer Jareau

Matthew Simmons

Luke Alves

Kate Callahan

Series

none yet :(

9-1-1

Imagines

Evan 'Buck" Buckley

Eddie Diaz

Bobby Nash

Athena Grant

Howard 'Chimney' Han

Maddie Buckley

Series

none yet :(

Gossip Girl

Imagines

Chuck Bass

Nate Archibald

Dan Humphrey

Serena Van Der Woodsen

Blair Waldorf

Carter Baizen

Series

none yet :(

Pitch Perfect

Imagines

Jesse Swanson

The Flirting Game

Beca Mitchell

Chloe Beale

Bumper Allen

Cynthia Rose

Benji Applebaum

Donald Walsh

Fat Amy/Patricia Hobart

Series

none yet :(

Miscellaneous

Chandler Bing

New Years Eve

[stopitbehaveyourself]

Kind of long. Ranting about the ST fandom because I need to get this out of my system.

What I'm about to say doesn't really matter as such, because there's about 5 people here who I've somewhat befriended here anyway. But I'm done with this fandom and the people in this fandom. Not all of them, but a lot of them anyway.

The hatred, the absurdity, the creepiness, the toxicity. It's too much. I got into this fandom because I adored jamie (and I still do. Always will.) I've never really met him but from what I've seen, he's sweet, kind, and REALLY TALENTED. So as much as I'll continue to follow him, I've decided to part ways with this fandom. Through the blog anyway. Maybe being a silent fan was always the better option, because having this blog (and a now inactive page on Instagram) has burst my bubble.

When I say this fandom, I mean the ST fandom as a whole. Not just the jamie fandom. Where do I even get started?

Hating Millie Bobby Brown for talking too much and being too loud and rude when she was a literal child. As if you guys were real mature kids who'd behave at a press conference if you played a big character in a big fucking show.

All the hate grace van dien recieved for simply addressing the chemistry she thought Chrissy had with Eddie. Calling her obsessed with joseph- her actual real life friend- on a blog/page dedicated to Joseph Quinn - who probably doesn't know you exist. Who's more obsessed here? You're allowed to have a celeb crush or simp over a fictional crush or whatever but learn to separate reality from fiction and stop hating and hurting real people over fictional characters.

Knowing Joseph Quinn is a private person and yet so many people disrespecting his privacy at any chance they get.

The hate Eduardo Franco gets for talking too much or for his looks.

And an endless list of toxic things in the jamie fandom alone. (I probably missed out on plenty other shit that happened in the ST fandom in general because I wasn't ever involved with it in detail)

Jamie being asked to sign a marriage certificate by a fan. Even if it was fake, if he says he's uncomfortable you STOP. Just because you paid for an autograph doesn't mean you're entitled to get whatever you ask for. He has the right to deny, and when he does, you respect his boundaries and back the fuck off. You don't ask him for a refund when he doesn't even handle that shit.

Overanalysing everything he/the person he is around says/does. Breaking news: everything a person does doesn't have to have a masterplan behind it. They're people. Let them fucking breathe.

Leaking his music even when he specifically asked not to. Support his work ethically maybe?

The recent hacking: Jamie specifically asked not to engage and yet people went on and engaged and were surprised when they got blocked. It's common sense that sending hate to a hacker won't actually make them stop hacking when they have the option to simply block you. By pissing the hacker off you only make Jamie's work more difficult. Sit back and let him handle things by himself maybe? He's an adult with a good enough team who can sort the hacking out for him.

Shipping characters, having a celebrity crush, indulging in fanfictions. It's normal. But keep it to yourself maybe? Nobody wants to see a stranger on the internet showing them their sexual fantasies with them. Try imagining yourself in his shoes, it's uncomfortable as fuck. He is too polite to point it out directly, but some of y'all don't get the fucking hint when he indirectly expresses his discomfort, do you? You pass it off as a joke.

I could specifically list down at least 5 more things but they'd be an attack to specific people and I don't want to get into an argument with anyone or genuinely attack anyone personally either.

All I'm saying is that this fandom is fucked. I miss the times I was oblivious to all the drama going on, but my bubble has burst now, and I can no more look at a video/post related to stranger things and not remember the negativity attached to it. I need to get my head clear at least for now. So I call quits. Maybe I'll return some day but I hope it's not anytime soon. It doesn't matter anyway, apart from the few friends I made here. But I had to say this. It was in my system for way too long.

Please don't spread hate x

[slytherinn-xo]

slytherinn-xo Masterlist!

So this is my Masterlist! And where you can find ALLLLLLLLLL of my imagines, WOSO, WNBA and many things really! But here we go with it allllll!

Steph Catley St Alban's Local

Kyra Cooney Cross 'Oh No KYWA'

Danielle Van De Donk Swim Tryouts at 7:30

Kerstin Casparij We Can't Keep Her

I KISSED A GIRL Profile Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3

[littledarlingone]

Steddie and Byler are so closely tied in my mind.

Somebody plz tell me if I’m completely late to the party here but like…

As much as Mike hates the guy, him and Steve are fundamentally the same. Of course, Mike is much nerdier and prone to bullying than Steve ever was, but at their core, they’re both just rich kids who don’t know how to be their own person. They’re both following in their parents footsteps—the polos, the button ups, the khakis…the American dream with a house and kids—and a girl. A nice girl.

And honestly Mike’s distain for Steve is even more compelling to me. Mike sees himself in Steve and he hates it.

Will and Eddie are of course different too, as far as mannerisms and interests go. BUT they share the same core character archetype—the freak. Not to mention the creative streak and the DND and the queer coding (or in Wills case, just blatant queerness.)

I also feel it’s important to point out just how similar Will and Eddie’s disappearances actually are, and the way the public talks about them when they’re gone. Think about it.

So. They’re alike, so what?

Well, let’s break down what happened in S4.

Mike reunites with El and Will in Lenora, and tries to patch things up with El, but ends up spending all of his time with Will and reconciling their relationship instead.

And all the while? El is spending her time in the memories of the lab with 001.

THEN. ALLLLL the way back in Hawkins, Steve is unraveling Vecna’s curse with Nancy and Eddie, and shows signs of wanting Nancy back (which is completely out of the blue, right? How weird!) Except he ends up spending alllll of his time!!!! With!!! Eddie!!! TALKING about Nancy!! The SAME way that Mike and Will are talking about El! And it serves to reconcile each of their misconceptions of who the other was in high school, under a safety blanket of heteronormativity. It’s a direct parallel to the van scene!

(And don’t even get me started on the failures to say I love you in both Mileven and Stancy!!)

Also what else do we remember happening in Hawkins? Nancy being pulled by Henry (001) into the memories of the lab…where Eleven has been the entire season. El and Nancy are the only two people to walk in Vecna’s mindscape without being under his curse…and why? Why connect them? And not just now.

Why dress El up in Nancy’s old clothes?

Why provide strikingly similar shots of them crawling out of the Upside Down?

Why make them both the girl that no one believes?

They are inherently tied (and tied with Joyce, but I seriously can’t get into that too this is getting so long) the way that Steve and Mike are, and Eddie and Will. It’s the love triangles, not just Steddie and Byler.

So now we’ve come to the last bit of this ramble, which is Eddie’s death.

There’s a lot of anxiety and controversy about what will happen between El, Mike and Will in S5, but we’ve already seen what is (supposedly) the older trios end—Eddie dies, and it ends because it cannot continue. There is no closure.

Wouldn’t it follow, then, that Will would die?

It’s scary, right? Eddie, much as we love him, was a fast-tracked version of what we have with Will. He was only a fraction and we got that upset. Imagine what losing Will would be like!

But here’s what I think. I think that Eddie dying—whether he remains dead or not—served as almost an extreme hypothetical. An ‘if your friends jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?’ Because Eddie jumped. Eddie chose his friends over himself. Eddie saw himself as a selfish coward, and decided that the only thing he was good for was helping others along. And it killed him.

And Will? He gave all of his love and work over to make El happy. Because he sees himself as a selfish coward, and decided that the only thing he’s good for is helping others along. Will jumped.

So yeah, Will could die. The self-sacrificing tendencies are there.

Except. Mike jumped off the cliff, too. Literally.

So. When two people are willing to die for each other, is it a weakness or a strength?

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Obituary: The son who soared: Jeff Buckley

Date: June 6, 1997

From: The Guardian (London, England)

Publisher: Guardian News & Media

Document Type: Obituary

Byline: ADAM SWEETING

FEW ROCK business careers began more tantalisingly than that of Jeff Buckley, who has drowned in the Mississippi river, aged 30 (his body was found on Wednesday this week). In 1991, record producer Hal Willner, known for assembling imaginative, star-studded tributes to Charles Mingus and Kurt Weill, put together a tribute concert for Jeff's father, Tim Buckley, at St Ann's Church, Brooklyn, New York. Tim had died of a heroin overdose in 1975, aged 28, but his early death ignited a slow-burning musical legend. It was founded on his recorded legacy in which soul, blues and jazz influences mingled freely, the process stirred by his arrestingly elastic vocal style.

His son Jeff, born in California during Tim's brief marriage to Panama-born Mary Guibert, had always been ambivalent about his father. Tim left Mary when Jeff was six months old, and his son was brought up by his mother and stepfather during a peripatetic childhood. 'We moved so often I had to put all my stuff in paper bags,' Jeff recalled. 'My childhood was pretty much marijuana and rock 'n' roll.'His decision to participate in Willner's tribute event launched Buckley Junior as a new phenomenon on the New York music scene, and simultaneously affirmed his quasi-mythic credentials, particularly when he performed his father's song Once I Was. 'It bothered me that I hadn't been to his funeral, that I've never been able to tell him anything,' said Jeff. 'I used that show to pay my last respects.'

Thus launched in public, Buckley was rescued from a string of odd jobs by joining the avant-garde combo Gods & Monsters, which featured Pere Ubu's ex-bassist Tony Maimone and Captain Beefheart's erstwhile guitarist Gary Lucas. But it was more a loose group of individuals than a real band and Buckley quit in early 1992 to pursue a solo career.

He began performing at small Manhattan clubs, particularly the Cafe Sin-e, where record company executives and A&R men were soon arriving by the limo-full, waving chequebooks. 'I went into those cafes because I really felt I had to go to an impossibly intimate setting where there's no escape, where there's no hiding yourself,' he explained.

Buckley's remarkable voice (his most obvious inheritance from his father) and movie-star looks left nobody in doubt that he was a star in the making, though the eclecticism of his shows confused some listeners. Buckley would pluck songs out of the air as the mood took him. It might be something by Van Morrison, the Hollies or Big Star, or a tune made famous by Nina Simone or Mahalia Jackson.

With a hippie-esque suspicion of large corporations, he turned down several deals before signing with Columbia at the end of 1992, apparently because he knew and trusted the label's A&R man Steve Berkowitz. The company previewed their new acquisition with a live EP, Live At Sin-e, following which Buckley travelled upstate to Bearsville to start work on his debut album, Grace.

The disc was released in 1994 to instant critical adulation. The sleeve pictured Buckley clutching a microphone and looking poetically dishevelled, while the music inside was a cornucopia of rockers, ballads, hymns and even a bold rendition of Benjamin Britten's Corpus Christi Carol, by no means standard rock 'n' roll fare. His voice was wild, passionate and sensual. If his music was hard to describe in a soundbite, it was bursting with hidden depths and infinite potential. Grace won Buckley the Best New Artist award from Rolling Stone magazine in 1995.

Buckley's inquisitiveness and musical ambition earned him acceptance across a broad spectrum of fellow performers. Elvis Costello brought him over in 1995 to perform at London's Meltdown Festival, where he easily held his own among string quartets and jazz ensembles, and last year he featured on Patti Smith's comeback album, Gone Again. He was also a fan of Eastern music, particularly the Islamic devotional Qawwali songs of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.

Buckley had been in Memphis since February, recording new material. He decided to go swimming in the Mississippi, fully clothed and carrying his guitar, but was apparently pulled under by the wash from a passing tug.

Jeff Buckley, rock singer, born August 1, 1966; died May 29, 1997

[bridenore]

HD fic recs : Draco!mpreg (part 2)

Here are a few more recs involving mpreg!Draco. This is part two of two and focuses on longer fics (more than 30k). Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Anything But Ordinary by 0idontknow0 [37k]

“I got someone pregnant,” he said. “Draco Malfoy to be specific.”

Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts by Sita_Z [28k]

Harry did not expect his Eighth Year to involve any more investigations of abandoned bathrooms. Nor did he expect to come across Draco Malfoy there, alone, bleeding and in late-stage labor.

Arms Wide Open: Grimmauld Place by Sita_Z [28k]

After leaving Hogwarts, Harry and Draco face an uncertain future, raising Scorpius and dealing with the wizarding world's reaction to their situation. Sequel to Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts.

Beggars Would Ride by @eidheann [37k]

Harry finds his comfortable life taking a turn he never expected when he becomes the father of Draco Malfoy’s child.

The Copper Cauldron by Newshound [150k+]

Draco thought his life had ended after being imprisoned in Azkaban. It  will take the love of the man he regards as his greatest enemy, the faith of his most trusted confidante, and the hope imparted by a beloved  child to convince him that his life has truly just begun.

Draco Malfoy and the Secret Inheritance by Nattish [46k]

Draco is pregnant. Pregnant! At age 16, no less, and (if you hadn’t noticed) he’s a bloke. How on Earth did this happen? If that’s not   upsetting enough, he has no idea who fathered the damn thing. Lust, lies, and scandal abound!

Expectant by @l0vegl0wsinthedark [62k]

After he accidentally gets Malfoy pregnant on a drunken fuck at a club, Harry doesn’t anticipate that it’d be just as easy to fall in love with him.

Hadrian’s Curse by oldenuf2nb / @dianacopland [30k]

When rumors about Albus Potter and his best friend begin to circulate at Hogwarts, Harry Potter finds you can never really escape your past.

In Our Blood by @secretsalex [37k]

Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.

Little Star by @ladderofyears [39k]

Ever since the end of the war Draco Malfoy has been scratching a living as a sex worker. He lives on the margins of society in squalid rooms and doesn’t imagine that his life will ever change. Then, after a couple of years, Draco becomes pregnant by an unknown client. Despite the Healers at St Mungo’s treating him with prejudice and contempt, Draco is determined to keep his baby. In his desperation, Draco approaches the wrong person and the result is disastrous. Draco is beaten up and left for dead in an alleyway. As Draco hovers between life and death, Harry Potter discovers his bruised and battered body.

The Saviour doesn’t only save Draco’s life. He takes Draco back to Grimmauld Place and helps him to recover.

Listen To Your Heart by @ladderofyears [65k]

Draco and Harry are Auror partners and secret lovers. They have been tasked with helping to solve the Cursed Objects Case, a series of mysterious crimes that have been terrorising the magical population of London.

When Draco is faced with an unplanned pregnancy, their previously ordered life is thrown into disarray.

Little Love by @ladderofyears [33k]

Of all the bad ideas that Draco Malfoy had ever had, moving in with Harry Potter was the worst of them.

They didn’t get on. Harry was judgemental, messy, and a prude who looked on disapprovingly whenever Draco returned home after spending the night with his boyfriend Seb.

But, after a broken condom leaves Draco pregnant, he realises everything in his life has to change. The first thing: his relationship with Harry. After that, everything starts to get better.

Morning Mr Devil, Come Say Farewell to Your Dreams by @thisbloodycat [32k]

Nothing stays the same after a war. Except for lack of luck, that much Draco has noticed.

Pocket Full Of Starlight (Never Let It Fade Away) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [46k]

When Scorpius Malfoy and Jamie Potter meet at Quidditch camp, they take an instant dislike to each other. Then they discover their lives are more connected than they could possibly imagine.

The Rules of War by calrissian18 [40k]

“After having his tentative advance rebuffed, Harry has been Imperius-ing Draco into having a relationship with him. He’s needed to make the curse stronger and stronger, the more he wants – desire, sex, love, marriage, baby. However, when Draco falls pregnant, the power of the curse starts diminishing, no matter what Harry tries. What happens when the curse finally fails?”

Some Kind of Wonderful by taradiane [34k]

Harry is adrift without an anchor after the prophecy that shaped the first eighteen years of his life is fulfilled. Restless and bored, and wanting to stop Hermione from nagging him about wasted opportunities, he decides to spend his time volunteering at a Muggle homeless shelter…then along comes Malfoy, with an anchor of his own that he needs help carrying.

Survival of the Species by @romaine2424  [46k]

Draco approaches Harry on the 9 ¾ platform, after their sons have boarded the Hogwarts Express, and invites him over for tea.  The discussion they have leads them on an adventure that neither could have expected. There be dragons! HPDH compliant.

Things That Change by eutychides [84k]

After Hogwarts, everything changes.

You’ll Still Find Stone by @flightinflame [42k]

Draco had to marry Potter to stay out of Azkaban. Narcissa told him he’d be safer there. But he doesn’t  know what Potter expects from him - this marriage is nothing like he had been prepared for. Potter’s acting kindly, and he knows it’s all a trick. He’s just about coping, but trying to keep Potter happy becomes more important than ever when he realises he’s carrying the man’s child.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[augustyearroundprod]

🎙️ Exciting news! We’re thrilled to announce our upcoming podcast projects that you won’t want to miss!!#Podcast #ComingSoon

MOONBURN SEASON TWO – Season Two continues Lucas’ journey as he navigates the highs and lows of building a life in New York City, heeding the guidance of a new set of diary cassette tapes, facing fresh challenges, forging the unbreakable bonds with his chosen family, searching for a sense of purpose… all while confronting the unexpected difficulty of a brand new housemate at Bourbon St. Boarding.

(UN)LIKEMINDED COLLECTION THREE – New Theme. New Stories. A brand new season of our exciting sci-fi short story anthology series coming Oct, 2024!

HAUNTED: THE VAN BUREN MANOR – Our brand new audiodrama comedy follows a team of ghost-hunting frauds after their staged investigations lead them to the mysterious Van Buren Manor, where they must confront their first ever real haunting. Trapped inside the manor, their only choice for escaping alive is unraveling a century old mystery and stopping the manor’s restless Matriarch from enacting her greatest revenge— a plot that may hit closer to home than any of them could imagine.