An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
we don't even need a reason for dreaming by mallowstep (@mallowstep)
A series constituting of two works (as of 2026):
memorize what it sounded like when your dad gets home
you're far too beautiful to leave me
The JayPoppy propaganda is spreading - this time in the form of an AU exploration series, where Jayfeather is a warrior!
mallowstep pushes peak fanfiction out at a rate I cannot begin to comprehend. His writing style flows so naturally and even the shortest works feel worth reading. I'm sure I'll end up recommending most, if not all, of his pieces - but for now, let's gather and eat.
keywords: canonverse, canon-divergent, Jay/Poppy, set during OotS
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationship: Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Character: Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Wayne Munson
Additional Tags: POV Outsider, Recreational Lying, Hospitals, Secret Relationship, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Season/Series 03, POV Robin Buckley, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, Protective Eddie Munson, One Shot
Words: 2,862
Chapters: 1/1
Summary
After all the fuss at Starcourt, the EMT ask for their emergency contacts, and the name Steve gives is not one Robin recognises. She's like, 90 percent sure there are no 'Wayne's in the Harrington family tree.
And what the fuck is Eddie Munson doing here?
-
OR
Steve gives Wayne's number to the paramedics, because his boyfriend's uncle at least cares if he has a concussion. He doesn't expect Wayne and Eddie to actually show up and give a shit about him.
Summary: Jared needs a boyfriend to bring to Thanksgiving. Craigslist has what he needs.
"I am a 28 year old felon with no high school degree, and a dirty old van one year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen's guitar. I can play anywhere between the ages of 20 and 29 depending on if i shave. I am a line cook and work late nights at a bar. If you'd like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I'm game."
[Wherever you read this, don't forget to thank your author (who is also here on Tumblr as @writinginthesecrettrees). A Kudos/Like and a comment/reblog go a long way. 🫶]
[My thoughts: Such a fun little fic despite the heavy subject. I could read lots more about these two. 😊]
Day 6 ❄️ Present ❄️ Making a new Christmas tradition - blood play
Day 6
The cold winter air seeped through the cracked windows of the Impala, mingling with the earthy scent of pine and the faint whiff of smoke as the twinkling Christmas lights cast their warm glow through the small cabin.
Inside the cozy dwelling, the heat radiating from the fireplace engulfed the room, creating a stark contrast to the bitterness of the outside world. Shadows danced against the walls, elongating and stretching as if trying to escape the harshness that lay beyond the wooden structure. Yet, within that sanctum, a faint and unsettling odor lingered—blood, a smell both familiar and deeply unsettling . It was a stark reminder of the strange and twisted reality that had become their lives, where the boundaries between light and dark blurred beyond recognition.
Sam sat hunched near the crackling fire, his eyes glowing faintly with an unnatural crimson hue, radiating a chilling beauty that spoke to the darkness enveloping his soul. His once-warm, familiar face had transformed into a mask of dark allure, completely taken over by the demon within him. There was a disconcerting grace in the way he flexed his fingers, as if still adjusting to his new form, the demon blood rushing through his veins like a live wire, electric and unrestrained.
Just a few feet away , Dean stood , his gaze fixed on Sam like a predator sizing up its prey. A cocktail of emotions flickered in his eyes—part concern, part something far deeper , a possessive yearning that twisted in his gut like a knife. The demon had always lurked just beneath the surface of Sam's being, but now, Sam had embraced that darkness fully. An ache throbbed in Dean's chest, battling against a fire that burned within him, a hunger that felt ancient and all-consuming.
"S am, " Dean's voice was rough with an edge, laced with a subtle desire that made the air around them thick with tension. He stepped closer, the soles of his boots scraping against the worn wooden floor , the flickering firelight casting dramatic angles across his strong features, highlighting the battle within him. " You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you? " The teasing tone was unmistakable, but there was a dark weight to his words , a hint of something more.
Sam’s lips curled into a predatory smile, his demon eyes glinting with mischief and challenge in the dim light. " I don't know what you're talking about, Dean. " His voice, rough and drawn from the depths of some unreachable place, held a dark thrill. " Maybe you should be more specific ."
Dean let out a low chuckle, dark and rich, as he closed the gap between them, his warm hand resting possessively on Sam’s neck. His grip tightened, firm but not painful—just enough to remind Sam of his presence and his control. “ I think you know exactly what I mean, ” he replied, his tone dripping with a wicked blend of authority and temptation.
For a heartbeat, silence enveloped them, heavy with unspoken words, the air vibrating with electricity. Sam could feel the demon inside him almost clawing to break free, but Dean’s hand kept him anchored, held in place. “ Your blood, ” Dean whispered, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, fingers trailing down the line of Sam’s jaw with a gentleness that almost belied the raw power of the moment. “ It’s so tempting. Always has been. ” The words came close to a growl, his breath warm against Sam's ear, igniting a dark yearning that sparked between them. “ This Christmas, we make a new tradition .”
A dangerous excitement flickered in Sam’s eyes. His breath quickened, a familiar thrill of submission mixing with the cold, calculated persona of the demon that now inhabited him. There was an undeniable bond between them —one that twisted through their shared experiences, their histories, and the complex need that ran deeper than desire itself. His gaze locked onto Dean's , the pull of something darker drawing him toward the wicked edge of his emotions.
Dean needed no further invitation. His thumb brushed against Sam’s bottom lip, a casual movement that belied the gravity of what was to come. Sam felt the smoldering hunger in Dean’s eyes as palpable as the heat radiating from the fire. “ I’m going to make you feel every inch of this, ” Dean murmured, desire coating his voice like honey.
Sam let out a breathless laugh, the demon within him alight with the awareness of the impending pleasure and pain, the thrilling dichotomy of their connection. He leaned in, their lips almost touching, the proximity igniting sparks of longing , but Dean pulled away, leaving a void of yearning. “ Make me bleed, Dean, ” Sam whispered, the dark challenge in his tone undeniable. “ That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it ?”
Dean grinned darkly, taking a step back and unzipping his jacket, his gaze locked onto Sam—coiled, intense, and primal. The power dynamics between them was familiar yet charged; their shared history made the moment electric, crackling with an energy all its own. Dean moved with purpose now, hands rough as they grabbed Sam’s wrist and pulled him up from the warmth of his seat, guiding him toward the sturdy wooden table nestled near the flickering light of the fireplace.
“You’re mine tonight,” Dean growled, the words carrying a weight that reverberated through Sam’s very core. “And I’m going to mark you.”
Sam let out a breath, not of fear, but of exhilaration, the sound akin to a low growl that escaped from the depths of his chest. The demon blood had always made him volatile , but with Dean firmly taking control, he felt a unique blend of vulnerability and vigor course through him . He had never been so exposed, yet something profound about Dean’s touch—the way he spoke, the authority embodied in his grip—made Sam crave it, desire it, more than he had ever thought possible.
Dean's hand tightened around Sam’s wrist, guiding him towards the table with an intensity that left no room for protest. “This is a new tradition, Sammy. Christmas, family, blood.” His voice dripped with dark humor, but there was a sharper edge beneath that made Sam's pulse race, anticipation hanging thick in the air as if it had a life of its own.
Leaning in , Dean’s lips brushed against Sam’s ear, whispering, “ You know the rules, right ?”
Sam's eyes narrowed, darkening like a storm cloud as he responded, his voice husky and confident, “ I’m not some fragile thing. You can take what you want .”
Dean chuckled, low and menacing, his fingers trailing like fire against the nape of Sam’s neck, drawing him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Sam's breath hitched, anticipation coiling tightly within him, as Dean’s knife, cold and glimmering, skimmed across his chest. The blade promised both pain and pleasure, and he reveled in the exhilarating rush it brought.
“ D on’t move, ” Dean commanded, the low timbre of his voice imbued with an undercurrent of danger, a promise of what was to come.
Sam’s body tensed, hands gripping the edge of the wooden table as Dean's blade bit into his skin, each slice sending waves of surreal exhilaration crashing through him. Blood welled up, spilling down his chest, life force mingling with the air thick with desire.
“ Y ou’re going to enjoy this, ” Dean murmured darkly, pressing his lips against the fresh wound, savoring the metallic taste of Sam’s blood—their connection deepening through the very act that marked them as one.
Sam let out a breathless moan, a shudder coursing through him under Dean’s touch. The delightful blend of pain and pleasure formed an intoxicating cocktail, making his heartbeat quicken with each stroke of Dean’s hand, each single word that dripped from his lips. This wasn’t just a Christmas tradition —it was a ritual , one that only they could understand.
Dean licked the blood from his lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. " Merry Christmas, Sam, " he whispered darkly.
Sam’s eyes locked with his, filled with a mixture of need and something darker. He’d never been this close to the edge before, not with Dean, not like this. And it terrified him.
But the desire to let go, to submit completely to the man in front of him, overwhelmed everything else.
Notes:
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, feel free to leave a comment or share your thoughts. I’m always open to taking requests for any ship or prompt, so don’t hesitate to reach out with your ideas. I love creating more dark, twisted, and romantic tales for you all!
Pairing: Choi San x Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst, Christmas AU, Hurt/Comfort
W/C: 2032
Rating: NC-17, mentions of cheating, depression, violence, kissing
Warnings: Shame/Shaming, Cheating, Choi San being a knight in shining armor, author not writing for a while, Wooyoung being a menace.
Networks: @cromernet, @keopihaus
Event: Cromernet Secret Santa!
a/n: Happy Christmas @armysantiny!! I was your Secret Santa! I really hope you like this one, I haven't written anything in a while so I hope it isn't terrible! (yes I am always way too hard on myself) I really wanted to make something special for you! Enjoy and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season!!! <3 <3 <3 Thank you to my wonderful beta readers @binniebeams, @heechwe, and @wooyoungqueen and big big shoutout to @pocketjoong for listening to me scream in her dms while freaking out about it.
“Baby, it’s not what it looks like.” he reached out for you.
Your chest stung; it felt like it was on fire. It burned and burned until all of a sudden…that flame went out. No longer did it feel like it was burning, but it felt ice cold.
Numb.
It had been 3 months, 11 days, and 21 hours since I saw my ex in bed with another woman. I could still hear her voice, hear her calling out his name, hear him, I heard it…heard it all.
“In your own bed?” San questioned as he sat down next to me on the couch. San is my best friend on the planet, and when I showed up at his door sobbing my eyes out, he didn’t ask any questions. He waited until I was ready. He’s always waited until I could talk about it. I couldn’t ask for anyone better than Choi San.
“In my bed.” I sighed as I took the coffee mug from him.
“What an asshat.” San was more upset than that but didn’t want to say it. I knew he was holding back for my sake. San was always the one I went to when things were terrible; he was the only place I felt I truly belonged, and he was always there to wipe the tears off my face.
“Yeah,” I said, still feeling numb.
“Y/n, it’s not your fault.” San held my hand.
“Then who’s is?” I argued with him. It always ended in an argument.
A week later.
“Come on, we’re not staying inside today; it’s time to get up and move.” San said firmly, holding out his hand.
“San…I don't want to.” I whined
“Nope, we’re not playing that game today.” he pulled me up. “Come on, you need sunlight.”
“Saaannn” I whined loudly but didn’t fight back.
San pulled me up and out for the day, helping me get my shoes and jacket on.
“Come on, I know you love Christmas lights, y/n” he held my arm.
That's right…it’s almost Christmas.
“Maybe not this year, San.” I looked down at my shoes as we waited to cross the street.
“Y/n. It’s okay. Come on.” he pulled me with him.
The lights were beautiful again this year. I felt my heart clench, and I loved walking around and seeing the lights and trees with him. I felt like there was this cold, empty space in my chest. I could feel it growing and growing and…my hand..it felt warm?
I looked down to see San’s hand in mine as we stood before a big lights display. I looked up, and his face had the same gentle smile that I grew to admire over time.
“Come on, there’s a cool one over here.” San said, pulling me closer and walking softly away.
We followed the lights, the cold feeling in my chest leaving to feed my extremities as the wind whipped around us. He may not have mentioned it, but the smile was on my face as we walked around.
“Here.” he handed me a Hot Cocoa from the stand in the park nearby. “You look cold.”
“It…is kinda chilly out today,” I murmured, taking the drink to warm my hands.
He sat next to me on the bench in the quiet. His hand reached over to touch my face. Was I crying?
“Don’t cry, Darling,” San spoke softly. “He’s not worth any more of your tears.”
“I loved him, Sannie. I really did.” I whimpered, and he pulled me into his arms.
“I know you did. I know, y/n” he breathed out softly.
There was a small part of me healed that day. Seeing those lights with San it made everything feel special again.
The nightmares were the worst part. Constantly reliving it all, hearing it all, waking up in a cold sweat night after night. Night after goddamn night. Every time I woke up with San sitting on the floor next to the couch, I felt another pang of guilt in my chest.
“You don’t have to stay up for me.” I whispered to him.
“I’m not going to just let you suffer through this alone.” he rubbed my cheek. “Besides, Byeol is here too.” he picked up the lovable cat.
“Meow!” she exclaimed.
“Hi, Byeollie.” I pet the sweet cat, the tears no longer coming down my face as he put her on my chest to help with the anxiety.
“Nurse Byeol, chest compressions stat!” he said as she purred. “Or that, I guess.” he smiled.
“Thank you.” I looked at him.
“Always y/n.”
Little by little, Choi San brought me back. Little by little, he healed some part of me I didn’t know was broken. He was there through the tears and nightmares, and he was there through the pain and the good days. He was there. He was always there—a year after everything. San was there.
“You like him.” Wooyoung poked at me.
“I do not.” I waved the man off.
“You actually do.” Seonghwa joined in from his spot on the couch. “You should see your face when he’s around.”
“Are you two going to help me set up for my Christmas Party or not?” I let out, exhausted.
“We are helping; we are just taking a break,” Wooyoung said.
“You’ve been taking a break for an hour.” I sighed. “After you broke my things, Wooyoung!
“It was an ACCIDENT!”
“I’ve got the Ornaments since Wooyoung broke them!” San announced, coming in through the front door.
“Hey, it was an accident! How was I supposed to know the box I dropped had ornaments!”
“The box said Fragile Ornaments.” Yeosang peaked from around the tree.
“Is it pick on Wooyoung day?”
“Yes.” we all answered.
The boys helped me decorate my new place. When a vacancy opened in San’s building, I took it without a second thought and wanted to stay as close as possible.
“Ooo, Sannie look, Mistletoe.” Wooyoung teased and waved it around. “Gonna kiss me?”
“In your dreams.” San laughed at his friend.
The decorations came along, but there were only a few mishaps. Most of Wooyoung caused them. Everything was…falling into place. It felt like it was healing.
A knock at the door.
I opened it, and it felt like everything I had worked so hard for came crashing back down, like all the hard work I had put in had fallen to pieces.
At my door was him.
“Baby, please, I’m sorry!” he pleaded as I froze.
“Go away, Yujun.” I looked away.
“I broke it off with her. I’m sorry! Please, you have to take me back.”
“Get out of here, Yujun. I mean it, I won’t ask nicely again.” I started to close the door.
“Y/n, please! Please, you have to take me back.”
“Take you back?! Do you think I’ll just forget what you did after everything? In our home?” The tears came easily. “You think you can just walk back in and say sorry like you spilt coffee on my favorite shirt? Yujun, you slept with her! We were engaged, and you slept with someone else! The worst part is how much I blamed myself for it! I would’ve taken you back if you had said sorry a month after it happened because what you did shattered every ounce of self-respect I ever had. But now this? A year later? Do you think I can just forgive and forget? Yujun?”
“Don’t be like that baby. I-”
“You don’t get to call me that anymore. You don’t get to treat me like that. Come back, bat your eyelashes, and expect me to fall for it.”
“Hey, what all the commotion.” San stepped up behind me.
“Him?! You chose him?! Over me?! Choi!” Yujun looked at San.
“Hell of a lot better than some asshat who can’t keep his zipper done.”
I wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly, there were fists being thrown and things breaking. I just remember hearing the glass and feeling the tears run down my face as I begged for someone to stop. I had never seen San so angry. What did Yujun say that made him snap like that? Why am I just standing here while Seonghwa and Yeosang have to hold him back while Yujun scrambles off the floor with a bloody nose? What did he say?
“Are you okay? Did he touch you?” San said, holding my arms.
“I….”
“Did he touch you!” San said still worked up.
“No.” I whimpered, still unsure what was happening.
“San!” Seonghwa got his attention. “You’re scaring her.”
San seemed to have calmed down a bit after that. His grip loosened up, and his breathing calmed down.
“San?”
“He’s a bastard y/n, a real piece of shit.” San said.
“What…What just happened?” I looked at him and his split lip and eyebrow.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Please.” he cupped my face.
“Did I-?”
“No. Not at all” San cut me off.
“Is the party ruined?”
“I could still use a drink” Wooyoung said from around the corner.
Everyone stood still, unsure of what just happened. Mingi and Jongho showed up with drinks, which was initially awkward. No one wanted to move. I needed air.
“Hey, please tell me you’re okay,” San said, following me onto the fire escape.
“I’m okay…I think.” I looked at him, hearing the music pick back up inside.
“He’s not worth any more of your tears.”
“What happened in there, San?”
“I couldn’t let him talk about you like that.”
“Like what? San, please. What made you snap like that.”
“He called you a slut. Accused us of being together, and that’s why you broke it off. y/n, look…you deserve so much better than anything that guy could ever offer you, and I’m not going to sit back and watch you get treated like that anymore; I can’t do it. You’re the most important person in my life anymore-”
“What about Wooyoung?”
“Y/n, let me finish….I can’t sit by anymore, okay? I….. I love you.” he held my hand, and that warm feeling came back, the feeling that always came with his touch.
“Like..friends?”
“No, y/n…more than friends. I hate watching you cry over someone like him when I could’ve been giving you the world instead if I had just said something sooner. I know you don’t like me, but please…know that you mean so much more to me than what that man ever thought of you.”
“Sannie.” I picked up his face. “First, you let me stay in your place for..forever, and then you helped me move on and move into my own place; now you defend my honor and confess you’ve had feelings for me this whole time?”
“I know I-” I cut him off with a kiss. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew that I had to do it. It felt right. After everything that had happened, it felt like the right thing I could do. “So..you?”
“I…I love you too, Choi San. I probably have for longer than I’d like to admit.”
“Does this mean?”
“Do you want to?” I asked him.
“Can I take you out for dinner?”
“I’d really like it if you did. I have to reward my knight in shining armor.”
“You don’t have to do anything else, Darling; please know that I just want to make you smile. You being here is more than enough.”
“Thank you, San…for everything.” I kissed his cheek.
It may not be perfect, and it may not be everything you read about in books, but it’s how we got here. It was messy and weird and maybe rushed, or perhaps it was just finally the truth that came to the surface. It was my turn to figure out what I wanted in life, and no matter what, I knew I wanted Choi San in it for the longest time I could have him.
“Oh, would you look at that? Mistletoe.” Wooyoung laughed as he held it over our heads.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Aaah! It's finally time to post my piece for the amazing 18+ Franmaya zine, the Art of (Dis)repair! Check out the project on @nsfwfranmayazine and look at the leftover sales ;)
This was such an amazing project to be a part of, and I'm so happy that we were all able to participate in a zine that was entirely focused to sapphic characters - it was so exciting and wholesome, and if you love Franmaya, this community was the place to be <3
Special thanks to my friend and our Head Mod, @rage-against-the-dying-of-light, for getting this masterpiece of the ground with their enormous brain.
Work Excerpt:
“This better be worth my time, fool.”
When dating a badass, there’s a lot that can ruin a good dinner.
Granted, even before she and Fran started going steady, her experience with social outings was that Weird waited for No One. Burgers with Nick? Oof, the fry cook’s been charged with double homicide. Picnic with Pearly? Whoops, client needs a seance about which deceased identical twin is the father of her eldest child. Training in the snowy mountains? Looks like— well, she’s still in therapy for that one.
Tonight’s shabu shabu with her girlfriend, it seems, is proving no exception to the rule.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
i finished this series today and cried like a baby and then wrote this all in one sitting. tune in for some dad!karino and soft baby kotaro. <3
fic summary:
It’s 7:32 when he realizes something is wrong.
He never used to be this punctual. A year ago, if someone had told him he’d be used to waking up at seven in the morning on the dot every day, he would have scoffed in their face. He’s an artist. Mornings are the archenemy of inspiration, and some days he hates the sun so much he thinks he’d have a fist fight with it if he had the energy.
But now, he has a routine that not even the sun’s foul touch could deter. He wakes at seven, with enough time to moan and contemplate death in the blessed, gloomy silence of his room, then there's a measured shuffle to the bathroom for hygiene and a piss, and with a quick sniff-check to make sure his sweatshirt’s not too rank for public consumption, he’s up and ready, shoving his feet into his sneakers before he can hear the impatient rat-tat of a samurai sword on his front door.
Title: golem magic - a ten-minute play
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919430
Creator: EskelChopChop
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 3,215
Warnings: None
Status: Complete
Tags: Ten-minute play, theatrical script format, it takes guts to tremble, it takes so much tremble to love, learning to tremble
Summary: Yennefer and Geralt sit in the silence of Hofmeier’s house. Three years have passed since they last met. They don’t say a word. It so happens that Yennefer can read minds.
