#AND WROTE A FIC TO THIS SONG

[nhothicket]

@kojitheopossum 's siren au has been rent free in my mind <3

I don't think this is what they mean by wet dream, Bdubs

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i'm suddenly thinking about rockstar!eddie shooting a music video on some naval ship and meeting actual sailor!steve who's all dressed up in his whites 'cause eddie's a big name star and the captain said everyone had to look their best and eddie immediately folding for the pretty guy in uniform

just: eddie wanting a couple of the guys to act in the video 'cause hopefully then they'd actually know what they're doing, and asking the capt to point out his most competent sailor. the capt immediately points out one of his low-ranking ensigns (like, brand new baby officer 'cause that's the kinda shit an officer would pull) and eddie, having been raised by wayne (who i'm hc-ing as a navy vet) knows better and is immediately like "No sir, I said your most competent, not your least. someone point me to THE second class. Where's he? I need an enlisted guy." and a higher-ranking chief that's been following the band around the ship all day bellows out a laugh and says "You're gonna want Harrington, Mr. Munson."

idk idk, it's niche but for some reason my mind went into the cold clammy depths of my time in the navy this morning and i was like 'NOPE! don't wanna dwell here, make it fun! make it about the blorbos so you dont get sad!!' lmao

[queenie-ofthe-void]

“Led Zeppelin? Never heard of them,” Steve lies, like a liar. Of course he’s heard of them, thinks maybe Hop’s mentioned them before. Doesn’t really know the band well, and probably definitely couldn’t name a song. But the comment serves its purpose, and the trap is set.

Eddie calls it the Zep Campaign. Every day they’ll listen to one album, and Steve will pick his favorite song from each. Eight days for eight albums. On the last day, they’ll narrow it down to one song to rule them all– because apparently even Led Zeppelin likes the Mordor books Dustin doesn’t shut up about. 

Each day, Steve struggles to pick a favorite. Day four isn’t bad– doesn’t mind a song that is actually called Rock and Roll, which is just a lazy title in his opinion– but they’re only half way through and the songs are all starting to sound the same. An endless stream of too-fast guitar melodies and weird, wobbly sounds he’s sure he’s never heard before. The vocals are his favorite part, but the lyrics are vague and confusing.

Long story short, he’s not a fan.

But this growing thing between him and this ridiculous metalhead is new, fragile. So if it’s important to Eddie, it’s important to Steve. 

“Stevie, we really don’t have to keep doing this,” Eddie concedes. It’s day eight, the final album, and he thinks even Eddie might be desperate to listen to something different. “You’ve listened to every other album and honestly this one is the worst. They were all on drugs, and this isn’t even their sound ya know? Like it’s not even real metal.”

And honestly, Steve does know. He’s been listening to this band for eight days and yeah, all the songs sound the same. But these ones are different. Softer. He’s made it this far, and he’s nothing if not persistent for the people he loves.

Sprawled out on the floor next to the boy he likes, passing a fading joint back and forth, he thinks he can suffer a bit longer. 

“No Eds come on, we’re halfway through anyways. Just flip it over and we’ll smoke while we finish.” Eddie huffs a sigh, but Steve can see the slight uptick of his lips, reminding him of why he’s doing this. He flips the record and crawls back, presses himself flush up against Steve’s side.

The next song is long, too long to keep his attention. They burn down their joint and Steve leans heavily onto Eddie’s open chest. He gets lost staring at the vinyl art. A guy dressed in a fancy white suit sits alone in a dive bar, the only splash of color against a dull background. The bartender looks gruff, like the rest of the bar, making the man stand out even more. He wonders if that’s how he looks posted up at the Hideout during Eddie’s shows. Wonders if he looks just as out of place in Eddie’s life as this man does, even though he looks comfortable there too. 

Eddie shifts his arms around Steve, bringing him back to the present. The song has changed and Steve feels the slow melody wash over him.

“Wait,” Steve cries out, flailing up and out of Eddie’s arms as he registers the new song. It’s soft with a steady beat. It’s got synth-- the sound Eddie told him he likes in pop music. This song isn’t loud and chaotic like the rest. The voice is soothing and the lyrics are mostly simple enough. It’s different, and he can’t believe it but–

All of my love, all of my love

all of my love to you, oh

“This one. I like this song. Like actually like it.”

Eddie sits up and stares at him. He can see the dramatic shock and annoyance on Eddie’s face. But it’s doing nothing to hide his broad smile and shining eyes. 

“Steven. Stevie. Baby, sweetheart, this absolutely cannot be your favorite Zeppelin song. Out of all the songs on all the albums and all the hours of poetic melodies I’ve forced upon you, you choose the most non-Zep Zeppelin song.” Steve laughs sweetly as he watches Eddie fail to keep the glee out of his supposedly annoyed voice.

The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again

One voice is clear above the din

“This song isn’t even metall!" Eddie screeches. He rants and raves, waiving his arms as he regales Steve with all of the reasons he should absolutely not like this one particular song. He's shining with happiness, dial turned up to a hundred and it's all aimed at Steve. He can't help but to gaze back fondly, enraptured in the adorably obnoxious spectacle.

"It’s all synth, almost no guitar because Page didn’t even write this one! He wrote all of them except two songs, Stevie, and of course that’s the one you chose. No one who knows good music even likes this album. It’s not even metal music and honestly I almost didn’t show it to you, that’s how bad it is!” They're both giggling, leaning falling slowly into the other's space. Facing one another, their feet tangled together, Steve twists and pulls on Eddie's rings. Just to touch.

“Well, maybe that’s why I like it,” Steve snarks, taking his hand. “Plus it’s a love song.” Daring to reach out.

All of my love, all of my love, yes

All of my love to you

Eddie’s smile dims a bit, softens at the edges as he grows serious. “It’s not a love song Stevie, not like that.” He’s looking at Steve but he isn’t. Looking past him into the back of his thoughts. “The lead singer, he wrote it for his son. His kid died of some kind of bad illness while he was on tour. Didn’t make it back in time.”

He pauses, and Steve waits. Knows Eddie has more to say, hoping his patience will pay off. Eddie’s sight refocuses and he heaves a heavy sigh. His eyes glisten as they lock onto Steve.  

“My mom used to sing it all the time. While she was cooking, or putting me to bed, or pulling weeds in the garden. She’d sing it constantly. Hell, she didn’t even know all the words, but she’d still try and sing the interludes– ya know, the music between the lyrics.” He laughs lightly, a stray tear just barely hanging on. Steve tightens his grip around Eddie’s hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. A silent sign of gentle support and encouragement. 

“Sounds like a love song to me,” Steve whispers. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls Eddie into a tight hug. 

All of my love, all of my love, to you now

“A love song just for you, from both of us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've always headcanoned that Eddie loves Led Zeppelin, because he plays guitar and loves metal and reads Lord of the Rings so of course he would.

[chimivx]

“…back and forth, from new york, sneakin’ in your bed…”

Warm breath fanned over your neck, a soft sigh tumbling from his lips between the sounds of the traffic thirteen stories down on the street. One arm beneath your head, his hand tangled in your hair, the other was slung around your waist, keeping you tucked in close to him, curving together in a perfect harmony. A gentle breeze poured in through the window only open a few inches, as far as it’d go, letting in the first glimpses of daylight, warming your bare bodies with the heavy summer air.

Mere hours ago you were nothing but a mess of tangled limbs and panting breaths, neither one of you getting close enough to satisfy the hunger that ravished in you whenever the other was near. Fingertips pressed hard enough to leave bruises, teeth left indents in the soft skin on either of your bodies. A centimeter of space was all that was allowed between you, and no hand was allowed to drop. In the dimly lit quiet, serenaded by the sirens and horns of the city that never sleeps, you took your time. Savoring every slow burning, sweaty, blurry second.

He’d be leaving you in a few hours. He was to get on a plane, another one that would take him far from you, physically. Never emotionally. With how he moved closer to you, though it seemed near impossible, and nuzzled his nose into your hair, you knew he was yours. Every curve of his body, now littered with traces of you, was yours. The curls that popped up along his hairline the second the heat between you turned up too high, the ones you toyed with now, wrapping your pinkie finger within the ringlet, they were yours.

His heart shaped smile, the one he hit you with the moment he saw you, it wouldn’t fade, not until you slipped his shirt over his head. That was yours too.

Though most days it was hard, the time apart, the weeks between moments like this one, one thing was for sure… This was golden.

[lloydskywalkers]

escape pod

dragons rising s2 part 2 is out that means PAIN TIME (cannot believe i got this to post with 2% service but please beware there are major major spoilers in this! if you haven't finished the latest dragons rising release steer clear)

Lloyd’s learned, a long time ago, how to ignore pain. 

It never quite works — pain doesn’t care for being shoved aside and silenced, and he’s also learned, on the steps of Borg Tower, the depths of his grandfather’s tomb, strewn among the shattered remains of Kryptarium Prison’s walls — it’s sure to remind you it exists with a vengeance. 

It’s taking that vengeance now. Now that he can’t distract himself with tournaments and battles and the exhausting adrenaline that beats out a steady alarm of go go go. 

The alarm’s still going off in his head, but there’s nothing left to do.

Well, that’s a lie. 

Lloyd buries his face in his hands, obscuring the blurring portraits in front of him. There’s so much to do — so many promises to answer and so many failures to make up for.

Jay. 

Arin.

The Source Dragons, the Forbidden Five, his uncle, Pixal, Skylor, and on and on and—

Nausea overtakes him, and Lloyd gasps raggedly. The smell of the monastery courtyard was comforting, once. It’s the smell of home, the smell of familiar incense and earth and smoke and seawater and ozone and Kai’s terrible hair gel.

The smell of everyone lost and missing and gone.

When he’d first woken up after the merge, alone with only the empty silence, he’d thought — that was the worst it could get. It was everything he’d ever feared, and he’d thought, after he found Kai and Arin and Sora and his family one by one, that maybe that was the worst it would get. That things would get better. 

“Stupid,” Lloyd curses again. 

His fingers clench over the hilt that’s tucked beneath his gi, close to his chest. The Source Dragon’s blade feels impossibly heavy, but it hasn’t left his side — he’s too terrified of losing it, of breaking it, of shattering the trust someone else has put in him. 

Why in the world people keep trusting him, Lloyd still can’t understand. It’s not even Lloyd they’re looking to, is it? 

Son of Garmadon, with countless eyes turned toward him in anger and suspicion.

Green Ninja, with countless hands outstretched to him, for him to save. 

Conduit, another vessel for another power and another responsibility. 

Master, the stupidest title he’s ever thought he could take—

Failure. Failing and falling and failing all over again.

Is that all you know how to do, Lloyd Garmadon?

He’s lost his mom and his father and uncle. Lost Jay, lost Arin, and he can only hope no one else is next. 

Lloyd’s fingers clench in his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. It’s a pitiful distraction from everything else. 

Fever still burns hot and familiar beneath his skin, leaving an aching weariness that makes standing feel nightmarish. It’s outweighed by the jagged line of fiery agony that cuts from hip to shoulder, every movement sending firecracker bursts of pain that leaves him shivering and dizzy. 

Stupid. Lloyd’s getting sloppy. How many times has someone backstabbed him before? How many near-misses has he dodged, instincts born from years of training just saving him?

Stupid. Lloyd doesn’t need saving. He shouldn’t need saving. Lloyd is the one who needs to save others and all he’s done on that front is fail.

“What do I do,” he whispers, to absolutely no one. “What do I do, what do I do, what do I do—”

Does he go after Jay, with Kai and Nya? That’s the strongest pull — Jay is his family, his brother, Jay is a missing piece that’s been gaping in his chest for years, now bleeding and raw and how, how can he just leave him—

But then there’s Arin, Arin with his kindness and enthusiasm and incredible potential and pain, Arin who Lloyd’s failed and how he can leave him with Ras, knowing what could happen—

But then there’s Sora, who he can’t possibly abandon either, and the rest of his family, who he’s just gotten back, and the growing threat of the Forbidden Five and the Source Dragons’ thundering instructions and the crimson-edged blade burning a hole in his gi and—

Okay. Okay.

Lloyd lets out a long, shaky breath, biting back a whine at the spike of pain that flares across his chest. 

He can do this. He has to do this. He’s pushed his body to breaking before. Again and again, this time isn’t any different. All he needs to do is—

Stars explode in his vision. 

He barely manages to avoid keeling over as something pulls hard, as if to yank him from his own body.  

No, no no—

There’s a thundering ache pulsing through his head, like the strike of Ras’ gong over and over again. Lloyd fights back a strangled mix between a sob and a curse. 

He hasn’t managed it yet, overcoming a vision and staying calm. It’s too disorienting, too awful — the world blurring away into violent reds, horrible flashes of future failures like a demented strobe effect. The terrifying sensation of losing his mind and losing his body and losing the ability to move, knowing the world’s moving on without him while he’s stuck somewhere in some half-formed future. 

It’s like Morro, forcing into his head and tearing his sense of self from him. 

Another searing flash of pain, another aching pull—

A sharp scream tears through the monastery, haunted and familiar. 

The visions scatter like dust, and Lloyd is on his feet before he can think. 

One turn, a room down from his own — Lloyd slams the door to Kai’s bedroom open with an aching shoulder and staggers toward his brother.

He’s already cut himself off, strangling the cry in his hands as he gasps for breath, but it’s unmistakably Kai who was screaming. 

Lloyd steps forward, hands held open, careful to make his presence known. His heart wrenches as he catches full view. 

In the dark, Kai’s almost a shadow of himself. He’s too-thin and gaunt, dark circles etched beneath his eyes, almost ravaged from his time in the Netherspace. He’d come back so strong, burning and fierce and everything they’d needed, that at the moment, Lloyd hadn’t realized. He’d completely missed the toll it took on Kai, and hey! There’s another failure to add to the list. 

Not about you, Lloyd scolds himself fiercely. Enough.

“Kai?” he says, reaching a hand out for his shoulder. 

Kai shakes his head, face still buried in his hands. He’s muttering furiously, sweat shining on his forehead.  

“Can’t — sleep, can’t, gotta — gotta move—”

“Kai,” Lloyd’s voice breaks. He knows the panicked fear in his brother’s voice too-well. Knows the live-wire adrenaline that forces you to push through exhaustion and pain and abandon sleep, the feeling of failure on your heels. 

“Kai,” he rasps again. “Kai, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s—” He blinks back tears. As if that’s going to be a comfort. Kai’s got the world’s greatest expert in failing people here, lucky him.

Kai’s hand seizes around his wrist. 

“Lloyd,” he croaks. The panic is his voice is ebbing, the tremors in his hands growing just a bit less violent. “Lloyd?”

Carefully moving his hand atop Kai’s own, he nods. “It’s me,” he says, trying to sound perfectly put together.

Kai makes a shaking, broken sound. 

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, I thought—” His hand tightens around his wrist. “You’re here?”

“Yeah.” Lloyd gingerly slides next to Kai on the bed, taking both his hands in his own. “I’m here. For real.”

Kai holds his hands so tightly it almost hurts, as if letting go of Lloyd will land him back in the Netherspace. He stares at their hands, expression easing into something that’s a lot less frightened and a lot more Kai. 

“You’re safe,” Lloyd says. “You’re safe, okay? I promise—”

Kai gives a wet snort, pulling a hand free to scrub at his eyes. “‘Course I am,” he says, voice ragged but sincere. “I got you here.”

Lloyd stares at him. It feels, just a little, like he’s driven the Source Dragon’s blade right through his chest. 

He opens his mouth, ready to assure Kai of — something — and—

Promptly bursts into tears.

“Wha- Lloyd, what’s wrong?!”

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd swipes angrily at his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m fine, I’m fine, I just—”

He feels like his chest is crumbling. He sucks in a breath desperately, and tries to find a smile.

“I’m just really glad,” he says. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

Kai stares at him, brow furrowed in worry. Something flickers across his face, the gentleness Lloyd remembers from when he was small, and then Kai’s arms are wrapped around him and he’s being held tight. 

“Thanks,” Kai laughs wetly. “I am too. Really, really glad.”

Lloyd tries to reply, but it gets lost in the lump that’s formed in his throat, his eyes burning hot. Zeatrix’s wound sings in pain as he presses tight against Kai, but it’s easier to ignore this time. Instead, Lloyd buries his face in Kai’s shoulder, and tries desperately to force back any more tears.

The wet warmth against his own shoulder is the only thing that makes him feel a bit better. 

It takes a moment, for the wracking shudders to subside, but Lloyd finally finds his voice again. If he was a better leader, he’d know exactly what to say. If he was a better brother, he’d find the perfect, comforting words for Kai, he’d know just what to say to make him feel better.

But Lloyd is neither of those things, and at his core, he’s still only pretending to be older than he is. 

“D’you remember,” he asks, voice a whisper. “What you said, back before we faced the Overlord the first time?”

Kai’s hold tightens. “That we’d look back on this, one day,” he rasps. “And laugh.”

Lloyd nods. “‘Cause it would be over. It would just be — a bad memory.” He bites his lip, hard enough to bleed. 

There’s a ragged, shaky sound as Kai exhales.

“Kai,” he whispers. “When’s it gonna be enough? When’s it gonna — when are we—”

Their poor, broken family, fighting for so long. Jay, who’s bruised and bled and put everything on the line again and again for others, lost and alone and shattered. 

What did they do, to deserve — why are they still — 

Kai suddenly pulls back. His hands seize around Lloyd’s shoulders, his eyes pinning Lloyd in place. Dark and burning, Lloyd knows them better than he does his own. 

“Don’t leave,” Kai says. “You can’t — you can’t leave. Don’t ever leave.”

Lloyd remembers — the breath knocked from his lungs at Kai’s first hug when they found each other, the only ones left after the merge. Relief so strong he’d cried himself to sleep that night, crammed into his brother’s bed as they convinced themselves to hope the others were out there, too. 

“Promise me, Lloyd.”

Another promise. The Source Dragon’s blade burns hot against his chest. This one, Lloyd hopes, he’ll find easier to keep. 

“I promise,” Lloyd whispers. “I promise.” 

[saphstories]

I'm Already There

For @e-vay. 😘

Something was different today. Perhaps it was the shade of blue in the sky, not as bright as it should be, dotted with the occasional white cloud? Or the fragrance of the flowers, lilies and roses not as sweet on the breeze as they bloomed? Or even the sun itself, not as warm even with the first day of spring in full arrival?

Amy Rose sighed and stroked her fingertip down the lonely stalk of a blown dandelion, watching the seeds dance in the wind with downcast green eyes, off to places unknown for planting and blooming.

...Or, maybe...just maybe...Was it her own heart's ache that made today so somber? ...Could it be...the absence of her heart that made this beautiful day awash in grey?

Amy shook her head and dropped the stem on the grass beneath her checkered picnic blanket. She was being silly, that silly lovesick Amy Rose... but try as she might to enjoy the warmth of the sun, the blue of the sky, the fragrance of flowers...it still wasn't right.

She harrumphed. This was ridiculous. He hadn't even been gone long, only a couple of days, and here she was, pining and moping, wasting a perfectly lovely day. "Pull yourself together, Rose." The pink hedgehog grumbled, flopping back onto the blanket to glower up at the sky. "Sonic's been gone for far longer than this before... you used to go months with only sparse texts!"

As if conjured by her grouching, the communicator at her side beeped and flashed with the specific tone for a message from the Blue Blur himself. Amy pretended she waited a moment, calmly picking up the device to check with poise and grace and not at all like the crazed kid she used to be...but she couldn't even fool herself. She lunged for the communicator, eagerly bringing up her messages with large green eyes full of stars.

It was a photo. Stamped for only a few minutes prior, with a towering ice cream sundae topped with dripping fudge, tiny chocolate chips, a sugar cone spear, and a bright red cherry on top. Amy's mouth watered at the sight, and her lips curved up into a smile at the winking grin the handsome blue hedgehog at the corner of the frame posed for the camera. 'Best thing about Apotos: Chocolate Sundae Supreme! Though the ice cream will never be as sweet as you. 😉 Wish you were here, Ames! Maybe you could come with next time? I might even share 😜 Xoxoxoxo'

Amy giggled, a lovely flush worthy of her name spreading across her cheeks. She caressed the screen lovingly, longingly, her heart both heavy and warm. It was far from the first text he'd sent since his departure, and she treasured each one, each call he graced her with at morning and night she relished in his voice.

...Who was she kidding? Amy missed him, felt his absence as keenly as she did the blanket beneath her. She missed his laughter, his smile, his confidence, his touch. It had only been two days... but two minutes would have been more than enough without her Sonic. Now, she supposed, that he was truly hers, just as that she was his.

Amy jumped, startled, when the communicator let out a sweet melody. "You give me butterflies~," It sang, and Amy hurried to answer it.

"Hey there, troublemaker!" The familiar voice smoothed the disquiet in Amy's heart, and she relaxed on the blanket for the first time all morning. "Ya didn't answer my text. Busy?"

"Maybe a bit, but I suppose I can squeeze you in." Amy teased.

"Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while." Sonic's voice dropped to a low purr, full of promise, and Amy giggled, blushing pink even if he couldn't see. "Whatcha up to?"

"Nothing too exciting, just sitting under the apple tree." Amy said dismissively. "How was the ice cream?"

"Awesome, like always. How'd you like to know for yourself sometime? Next time we track ol Eggy to Apotos, we could make a date out of it?"

Sonic the Hedgehog offering to take her on a date would never cease to make a thrill skitter through her fur. "It's a date." Amy agreed.

It was quiet on the line for a long moment, and Amy wondered if Sonic had gotten distracted with something else... "You okay, Ames?" His voice was soft, full of concern. "You sound..." He trailed off.

He knew her far too well. "Yeah. I'm fine," She sighed and pinched her nose. "I just... really miss you." Amy confessed, her voice dropping into a whisper, as if her volume could hide her embarrassment. "It's ridiculous, I know, I'm sorry-,"

"Amy Rose." Sonic cut her off, firm and gentle, so confident but so sweet. "Nothing you ever feel is ridiculous, and never be sorry for telling me how you feel. I know I'm not the best at emotions, but you never have to hide yours from me. I don't want you to, not ever. You're Amy Rose, the most passionate, strong, and incredible person I know, and so much of that is because of that big, beautiful heart of yours." He huffed a quiet laugh. "As for missing me, well..." Amy could hear the smile in his voice, the affection that drifted through the speakers straight to her heart. "You don't need to. I'm already there. Can't you feel me?"

"Sonic, I-," Amy breathed.

"I'm right there beside you, Ames. You just need to look around. Can't you see me?" Sonic hummed lovingly. "Can't you feel me there? I'm the sunshine in your quills, that breeze that kisses your cheek." Amy closed her eyes, a smile stretching on her muzzle as the breeze tickled her cheek fur, her quills warmed and shimmering in the sunbeams. "I'm as close as your shadow, holding you in my arms on the blanket, right there with you. I'm there, Ames, right there in your heart. And as long as you keep me there, no matter how far I go, wherever I go, just remember: so long as you love me, I'm already there."

[littleplantfreak]

'When', not 'if'

("I'm not a romantic" I cry and scream before dropping the most sickening thing i've written to date. Blame @stunie because i did tell her i would write the most ume thing ever and maybe this is it. The title in my docs for it is 'Fucking disgusting' but i figured i better not title it that here because I'd be seeing it in my notifs lmaoo)

SFW/no cw unless you hate fluff

When you wake up from your nap, one of your slippers is gone, and there's a blanket on you that wasn't there prior. Looking at the clock, it's been about an hour since everyone had left your apartment once your birthday party ended. The day as a whole had been chaotic, your boyfriend shoving you out the door with a note to go see Kotoha.

The note took you farther than that, though, as it seemed Umemiya created a whole scavenger hunt for your birthday that had you running into all of your friends, having dessert at your favorite cafe, and eventually ending up at your shared apartment to find that all that time spent around town was a distraction so that he could set up the space for your party. After it had ended, you were banished to the couch because princesses aren't allowed to help clean up their own birthday parties, which had you huffing and falling face down into the chicken shaped pillow affectionately called Mr.Clucky.

It was a product of your boyfriend's endless cycle of hobbies when he took up sewing. A little lopsided and overfilled with stuffing, you complained to and into Mr.Clucky with your face pressed into him. Apparently, he was soft enough to fall asleep on because before you knew it, you had been drooling on him the entire hour. Prying yourself off the couch took more effort than was almost worth it before your eyes fell on the reason you were so tired to begin with.

Hajime smiles and hums looking at your bleary eyes. "Good morning sunshine, I was just about to take you to bed," he says, folding a dish towel over a chair. You toss off the blanket and grab on the slipper that fell under the living room table before padding up to him. Dipping your hands under both of his arms to lock them together behind him, now your face is in his chest instead of the chicken, which is entirely preferred.

"Don't wanna go to bed just yet," you muffle, sinking even deeper into him when both of his arms wrap around you in support. He smells like dish soap and birthday cake, and you turn your head to hear the heartbeat in his chest.

"What do you wanna do lovey? You know I'd give you the world if you asked," you can hear the rumble of his voice in his chest with your pressed ear. He's cheesy, but half asleep, you feel just as much, if not cheesier.

"I have the world if I have you, they're one in the same. So just you is more than fine." Your eyes are closed, but you feel him shiver a little. "I wanna dance with you, though," you say, voice still soft and kinda raspy from sleep.

"Dunno if I can top what you just said even when I propose," he chokes out a laugh, or at least you think it's one. He shifts his hold a bit and starts leading you both in a lazy sway that starts near the toaster and ends next to the potted plant at the back door before starting over.

"When? Not if?" You tease him, a hand going to scratch the nape of his neck lightly.

"I'll never meet another you, so I'm pretty set on When."

"I'll say yes." Because you will. You can't imagine a life where you wouldn't.

"And I'll still cry when you do." You can tell he's crying now because it comes out shaky and his hold tightens a bit, before you lean back, stopping your impromptu waltz. Both of your hands come up to cup his face and look at his teary grey eyes before cooing at him.

"You big baby! Save those tears for When please. You'll be congested and sniffley all night if you don't stop." You start cleaning off his face with your sleeve, but he stops one of your hands and starts peppering your palm and wrist with small kisses. "I think I'm ready for bed now. Princess's orders," you say, dragging him towards your bedroom. You'll have to figure out tomorrow just how soon When is going to be, but for now you can hear the slow thumps of Hajime's steps as he follows behind you, squeezing your connected hand. It's not pressing in the least, you think, because it feels like there will be plenty of tomorrows too.

-----

When you wake up in the morning, it takes you an hour to realize Hajime had put the ring on your finger while you were asleep.

It takes you five minutes to run through town in your pajamas, barefoot to find and full on tackle him in front of the place he was about to get your breakfast in.

And it takes about two minutes of unintelligible blubbering on both your parts before anyone understands what is going on.

No one timed it, but if they did, it would've taken less than ten minutes for the whole town to find out via texts, calls, and yells down the streets and through windows that you're engaged.

[andromeda-nova-writing]

Cuff it 👀

Well, you got me. Forcing me to write the fic I have been joking about for a whole year now. Safe to say this fic requires you to listen to CUFF IT. It's a good song I would love to go roller skating while to one day. The disco vibes beg for the skates. This fic isn't about that. I present a reader that is very horny down bad for Wriothesley while I attempt to keep this humorous and safe for work.

I think it's very obvious there is reference to sexual content. It was very hard to think of ways to keep this sfw considering the lyrical content. I give you the long joked about CUFF IT fic.

Words: 1949 Fem!Reader Modern AU This feels like such a crack fic

Navia spit out her drink as Y/N’s phone began ringing, interrupting the music they had been listening to. “Why is that your ringtone?”

“So you have no complaints about me playing the song, but when it’s my ringtone, there is a complaint?” Y/N asked, still standing on top of the step ladder as she put dishes away in the top cabinet.

“I agree it’s a good song but seriously that's your ringtone?” She asked again.

“I have my reasons. Just answer it for me. You’re closer.” It was easier to just keep shoving cups in the cabinet than to take a break. That box was almost empty.

Navia looked at the call screen. “You have a song about about riding-”

“Just answer!”

Navia swiped answered the call and placed it on speaker for Y/N to listen. “Took you long enough.” Wriothesley’s voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah, we’re putting stuff up still. Navia had to rush to grab my phone. How are you and Clorinde doing with my furniture?” Y/N spoke loud enough to be clear.

“Perfectly strapped down to the rental. We took a detour to pick up some food if you don’t mind.” He continued explaining. “Clorinde said you and Navia were talking about wanting to try out that new restaurant that opened so we just got some stuff from there.”

“Good memory. Navia kept staring at the menu when we were on break.” She told on her friend.

“I’m just curious to see how they make their cakes. It’s my job as a baker to see how other places make the same desserts to see what I can do better.” Navia defended.

“Which is why we made sure to grab some,” Clorinde said, sounding tired from the lifting they had been doing.

“We should take a nice break when y’all get back. We got most of the kitchen unpacked anyway. How long till you’re back?” Y/N asked.

“Five or so minutes. Is the door still open?”

“Yeah.”

“See you soon then,” Wriothesley spoke before hanging up. The music from Y/N’s phone began to play again filling the mostly empty room.

“Is this ringtone my horrible way of finding out you two are dating?” Navia asked now a little in horror at how completely inappropriate Y/N’s taste in ringtones was.

“Nope!” Another shelf had been filled, and on to the next. “But if we were dating I would happily act out said lyrics.”

“That’s too much information.” And not something Navia even wanted the mental image of.

“If I have to hear about what you would like to do with Clorinde behind closed doors, I think you can deal with the lyrical content of ‘Cuff It’. I mean it’s only bad when you pay attention to the lyrics.”

“I could excuse it if the lyrics were set to the chorus! At least that’s tame in comparison, you might be able to get away with it if he overheard that as your ringtone for him.”

“And Wriothesley won’t hear what I have set as his ringtone. Even then I think everyone knows it’s my favorite song.” Y/N defended herself. She had a few months of this as his ringtone and nothing bad had happened so she must have been in the clear with that silly decision she made late one night updating ringtones for her friends.

“Even then, don’t you think on the off chance he hears it there won’t be questions. I mean the lyrics it opens with are ‘Hypersonic, sex erotic’. I think anyone would ask questions.” Navia tried appealing to her sense of reason.

“You know I keep my ringer off most of the time anyway. It only played because I’m connected to a Bluetooth speaker. I'm perfectly fine to keep those lyrics as a ringtone that plays like in a blue moon.”

Navia rubbed the temples of her forehead. If this was what she was like before even making a move on Wriothesley, she was afraid of what would happen if they ever became an item. “What even drove you to set the dirtiest part of the song as his ringtone? Actually, do I even want to know?”

Y/N laughed. “You remember last Halloween when he got forced to dress up? This song just happened to be playing as he was twirling around handcuffs. I can still see the twirls as the song played.” She began singing as the memory played in her head. “Come and cuff it, cuff it, cuff it, cuff it, baby. While I buss it-”

“That better not be why this is your favorite song.” Navia interrupted. “Oh my gosh, is that why you sing that part so loud?”

“The song is two years old and that only happened last year. I've been loving this song. And perhaps. A girl can daydream.”

“Just ask him out instead of being ridiculous. He’s gonna catch that ringtone one day.”

“When you ask out Clorinde! Even then I’m not sure if he would even be open to the idea of going out on a date. If I ask him out it might make things weird between us. I really do like him. More than I just want to sit on him kind of way.” Navia rolled her eyes at that sentence as Y/N continued. “I mean I know he can look scary but he is just such a sweetheart! I mean come on he didn’t have to help me move. Then there was that one time he picked me up cause there was a nail in my tire. Oh, and that day he begged to come over when I was watching my grandma’s puppy.”

“I get it! I just really think you should ask him out. Have you considered maybe he does all those things 'cause he likes you too?” Navia could hear the rental vehicle pull up. “I’m gonna go see what they need help with.”

Y/N frowned at the question Navia had left her on. There was no way she would be pondering such a question when she had a cabinet almost filled and Wriothesly just outside her new home.

Even then there wasn't anything wrong about that song being her ringtone. Plenty of people had ringtones with raunchy lyrics. This one was at least award-winning and it sounded so fun that not everyone even saw how dirty of a song it was. Was there really anything wrong with having the ringtone of the guy she would love to fall in love with to be a song about wanting to ride his dick?

…okay maybe phrasing it like that she could see Navia’s point. Y/N sighed. Guess it was time to change her ringtone for Wriothesley to be something more appropriate. It was a 2 am decision and to be fair, no one ever had good ideas at that hour.

She could hear bags being placed on the counter. “Part of taking a break requires you to get down from there.” Wriothesley was quick to remind her.

“I'm almost done. I'll get down in a bit. No issues with loading anything right?” She asked not wanting to look him in the eye just yet considering her previous thoughts.

“It went well. It was tiring though. Your bed frame was heavier than it looked though.”

“Good thing I have your help then. Actually, could you hand me my phone real quick?” She wanted to see time but also to change the album that was playing.

Wriothesley grabbed the phone for her before walking over. “Yeah, here you go.” There wasn't even a chance to grab the phone before it started ringing. The phone lit up with his name on the screen and a photo of him filling the screen.

Hypersonic, sex erotic On my body, boy, you got it Hit them 'draulics, while I ride it Got me actin' hella thotty So excited, so exotic

Despite the song on her ringtone playing so loudly, the room was just quiet. Navia was right and she was a fool. She felt frozen, unable to move despite the fact she could have easily taken the phone out of his hand.

Wriothesley answered the phone before the song could be played any further. Clorinde’s voice came through the speakers. “Navia and I are going back to the restaurant. They forgot some of your food. Wriothesley’s phone is still with us. Let him know.”

“Will do,” Y/N answered before Clorinde hung up the phone where her music had once again returned to the speakers. “I must set the wrong song as my ringtone for you. Funny mistake right?”

“When I switched phone brands you were the one who kept showing me the different ways to customize it.” Wriothesley reminded her. “You can’t stand on that ladder forever.”

“I feel like it’s better if I do.” The longer she stayed on the ladder, the longer till her feelings had to be rejected.

“Get down.”

It was hard not to frown as she got down from the step ladder. She wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to leave the moment Clorinde and Navia got back with the food and his phone. She didn't dare look him in the eye.

“I know it's one of your favorites and all but I think I'm going to need some more explanation than that of why you have that set as my ringtone.” He was at least kind enough to give her the phone back.

“You're a smart guy. Don't make me. This is embarrassing enough.” Y/N put the phone down on the counter behind her after turning down the volume of music playing. “Just let me down already. It's not like I was ever expecting a chance. It doesn't take a genius to see you weren't interested in any sort of relationship.”

“Who said I was uninterested?”

A rough calloused hand gently moved her chin up forcing her to look Wriothesley in the eyes. “You never acted as you were.” The words came out quiet, still flustered from before.

“It's not like you made it clear before either. Even then when I did try asking you out before, there was always something going on to where you couldn't go. I almost thought you were purposefully trying to avoid me.”

“I would never. I was just busy. I didn't even think you were asking me out.” Her eyes drifted off to the side. “How many times?”

Wriothesley let out a nervous laugh. “I would rather not count that.”

“I can’t believe I’m that oblivious that you won't even tell me how many times. Gosh, I'm stupid.”

“I wouldn’t call you stupid. Just distracted.”

“That doesn't help me feel better.”

“I have an idea what might make you feel better.”

Y/N laughed at herself. “Yeah, crawling under my blankets never to return.”

“Then let me do this before you go.”

The kiss from Wriothesley was gentle, warm, and inviting. Tender yet she could tell how much he wanted it. She didn’t even notice how her arms moved on their own, desperate to pull him closer. There was the faint taste of tea, not surprising with how cold it had been that day.

That was the perfect song to set as her ringtone with it leading to this. The part of her that planned on cursing that restaurant just for being the reason Clorinde had called her was now thanking them for forgetting their food. It was a perfect miracle.

If it wasn't for the fact that she was hungry and had a deadline on when to return the rental truck, that door would be locked. It would be best if Navia and Clorinde took their sweet time so she could keep savoring this kiss.

[avis-writeshq]

your friendly reminder that spencer reid will listen to any music you want. if he’s in your car and you want to play taylor swift, he’ll listen to it with no complaints. if you want to listen to olivia rodrigo and blast it all over the house, he’ll turn it up even louder. if you want to listen to kpop music, he’ll translate them for you and tell you what they mean after.

he’s not going to hate on your music if you don’t hate on his.

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game: AU where during Tim's search for Bruce, Ra's agrees to help him on one condition: Tim will sleep with him. (It's probably some kind of scheme on Ra's part.) How their dynamic would change with more overt sexual undertone underlying their interactions...

for the ask game!

UGH i love this type of thing so much. in my heart, this is canon. to me. Ra'sTim my fucked up beloveds you two are so terrible for each other.

so what i think is fun and often misunderstood in fanon is that Tim didn't go to Ra's, Ra's went to Tim. so it's even more fun if Ra's goes to Tim, and has that condition he holds over Tim's head. offering all of Ra's' resources, full access to his computers, someone just genuinely believing Tim and working with him. i think, a lot of it would be a mind game for Ra's. sure he wants to fuck Tim, but more than that, he wants to see Tim's reaction. he expects an immediate no, in the way Tim is so hesitant to work with Ra's in the first place. he's pushing Tim's buttons and basically treating Tim like a rat in a maze. so when Tim says yes, and doesn't seem to hesitate too much. *that's* intriguing. because in a perfect world for Ra's, Tim says yes because of a genuine returned attraction. but Ra's isn't quite sure if that's the reason. it could just be because of Tim's search for Bruce. so Ra's would really push it, see how far he could take the sex. it's simple sex first, but Ra's gets more and more interesting each time. slowly working in kinks just to see where Tim draws the line in the sand, and if Ra's can convince Tim to cross that line.

on Tim's side, i think it's fun if you play with Tim being so deep in the closet he doesn't even realize he's bisexual, yet. so to him, sex with Ra's doesn't *really* count as sex. he knows Ra's is weirdly obsessed with him, and Tim wants to play that to his advantage. he likes the power that obsession gives him, within the League. so, if it takes some sex to satiate Ra's, Tim mentally views it as like, a training session. no worse than those unpleasant endurance trainings Bruce used to make them all do. and i like the accidental catch-22 of it. where at first, the sex does very little for Tim. but the more Ra's gets creative and kinky about it, the more Tim *actually* starts to enjoy it. Tim's bisexual crisis except it's over a centuries-old man showing him the joys of sadomasochism in an agreement that was supposed to be totally normal for Tim bc he just gets himself into these situations.

i think one of the biggest changes would be Tim's sheer amount of power and immunity in the League would be even higher. *everyone* can tell Ra's is fucking Tim, he's not really trying to hide it with the way he looks at Tim and touches him in front of everyone. Tim tries to stay clinical and professional, but you can only look so respected working when Ra's is basically stroking your chest as you work. there are whispers, people keep tellin Ra's not to trust this random son of the Bat, but no one will say it to Tim's face. it'd give Tim more power over Ra's' operation outside of the Bruce search. sure, Tim can't change the nature of the League of Assassins, but he can. tip the scales a bit. pull Ra's back from being lethal in certain situations, convince Ra's not to engage in other places. Tim is careful not to overextend this power so he doesn't lose it, but everyone else sees just how much power Tim has. he even start working on taking people out from under Ra's, when Tim goes nuclear and leaves. like how Tim basically steals Prudence, he steals some other younger Assassins he thinks he can convince to come to his side. because he's with Ra's, he starts to command a level of respect so it's not a difficult thing to do. sure, Tim's just the kid keeping Ra's' bed warm. but also, he's the kid *Ra's* deemed worthy enough to be involved with, so it's a double-edged sword of both disgust and respect held for Tim.

it's so funny to me if Tim starts to catch feelings. Ra's of course has feelings, but Tim has never noticed his feelings for a man before so he's fucking panicking internally. and worse, he's not doing a good job of hiding it. Ra's is perceptive and has centuries of experience on Tim. so he can tell. he sees the look on Tim's face when Ra's does a genuine romantic gesture with no strings attached. and that's when Ra's really leans into it. the sex is one thing, but now it's courting. gifts, pet names, kisses, praise, the whole nine yards. and Tim doesn't outwardly deny any of it because he just... doesn't know what to do with it. he could handle stupidly good sex. but this?? this is new territory. he's constantly reminding himself Ra's isn't a good person. which isn't hard to do but still, Tim's just a little torn internally. also. i think Ra's would at least try to kill Captain Boomerang, if not outright succeed, as a courting present for Tim. and Tim is *horrified*, but then again, in canon, he almost personally killed Boomerang. so maybe. there's something nice about having Boomerang dead, while escaping culpability. Ra's thinks his corruption crusade is working on Tim and is absolutely gloating about it. they even go on a proper date.

but, in the end, Tim still backstab Ra's. i think Ra's would still try to go for control of WI, but would be convinced Tim would be totally okay with it and offers to share control with Tim. that's how Tim betrays him, he's allowed to handle so much of the paperwork, Ra's has no idea until it all goes through that he actually has no control. it's The betrayal. because Tim will always betray his love for what he thinks is the right thing to do. the infamous scene, where Ra's kicks Tim out of a window would go a lot differently. instead of a dramatic fight, it's deeply wounded betrayal. in canon Ra's always knew Tim was never in his pocket, but in this AU, he was naive enough to fall for it. and he's angry. he's angry at Tim, angry at himself. i think he'd straight up try to kidnap Tim. less "kick Tim out a window" and more "intimately hold a knife to Tim's throat" vibes. they part ways, but there's still. something lingering. the bridge isn't fully burned and Ra's is still going to seek out Tim when he needs help, and Tim will seek out Ra's. they'll never trust each other again. but they also can't seem to stop loving each other. Tim hides it from the Batfamily and Ra's never gives Tim that level of control in the League again but. the "i didn't know who else to got to." moments are inevitable and there are whispers in the villain community about how you better be careful around Red Robin because if you're not, you'll piss off the Demon Head. unspoken, deadly protection while still sort of trying to kill each other.

[fourtyforever]

doodletober day 11: by a thread by @mctwinkdom aka the iconic thongs fic. this is exactly how I picture chp 1 in my mind every time I read it

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 7

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

((TW for this part; period typical slurs and internalized homophobia. Read the tags before clicking readmore if you want the details))

Steve has been a porcelain doll for seven weeks when disaster strikes.

"What is that," Jeff says, because even though the words are in an order which would suggest that it's a question, the tone of voice Jeff uses decidedly is not questioning.

"What is whaaa-AH! Nothing! It's nothing!" Eddie, who was torso deep into his closet throwing things around to find his backup amp cord, turns to look at what Jeff was talking about, and is now launching himself across his room to stand between Jeff and Porcelain Steve. Porcelain Steve, who Eddie had lain on his bed, propped slightly on a pillow, headphones carefully perched on his little head, hooked to a cassette player currently playing the first hour of last week's Top 40 countdown that Eddie had taped for him (all three hours of it, leaving out the chatter of the radio show host. He'd had to use two tapes to get it all).

"Nothing sure looks a lot like a doll in headphones, Munson," Jeff has an amazing poker face but Eddie's certain he can see a bit of judgement underneath the carefully blank expression Jeff is wearing.

"I don't know what you're talking abo- hey! Hey, no, no, don't!" Eddie tries to bodily block Jeff when he moves forward and the two end up wrestling, a match that Eddie almost wins, if not for the hazard that is his messy room. He gets Jeff walked almost to the door before he steps wrong on something, ankle rolling and sending him down sideways. He clutches at Jeff but can't make purchase and Jeff, the bastard, does fuck-all to try and catch him. Instead, Jeff leaps out of arm's length, then lunges onto the bed as Eddie collapses to his floor.

Eddie frantically tries to stand and, in his haste, ends up with his feet tangled in a pile of dirty laundry and that sends him crashing down again, this time forward onto his hands and knees, so he gives up on standing and crawls the few short feet to the bed, finally looking up to see that the damage has been done.

Jeff has picked up Steve, holding him inches from his own face, eyes squinted in suspicion. Eddie is frozen, horrified and afraid, and can't bring himself to do anything as Jeff examines Steve closely, turning him around, poking his torso, flipping him upside down to examine his shoes more thoroughly. It's only when Jeff reached for the shirt, pinching the hem of it between two fingers that Eddie kicks back into action.

He lunges up, one knee on the bed, leaning over to grab Steve and yank him from Jeff's grip. His first instinct is to throw Steve over his shoulder, out of sight out of mind mentality, but as soon as he does, he realizes his mistake and twists, lunging to catch Steve in midair. He does manage to catch Steve, but it sends him bouncing off his dresser and almost back to the floor before he manager to regain his balance, where he proceeds to cradle Steve to his chest, which is heaving from the adrenaline, wrestling match, and subsequent dive after Steve.

Jeff is giving him a concerned look but something else piques his interest; Jeff reaches over and picks up the headphones, holding them up to one ear. His face goes through every emotion a human could possibly experience in less than fifteen seconds as he listens to whatever track was at the forty-ish minute mark on the Top 40 countdown.

Slowly, Jeff lowers the headphones, letting them drop to the bed before he gives Eddie a new, more judgmental, yet infinitely more concerned, look. "Eddie. What. The fuck."

Honestly, he's not sure there's anything he can say in response.

"Why- I don't... are you okay, man?" Jeff sounds both scared for Eddie, and scared of him, at the same time.

"I'm fine," Eddie manages to squeak out.

"Eddie," Jeff says seriously, "this is not fine. This is- this is insane behavior. You know that, right?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Eddie doesn't even know what he's defending himself from but his default response to anything is to defend himself. He grips Steve tightly around the torso with one hand and then moves both his hands to be behind his back so Jeff will stop staring at Steve.

"I mean this fuckin' insane shrine you have dedicated to Steve fucking Harrington. How did you even get a doll that looks like him. Did you- did you make that?"

Fuck. Holy fuck. What can he say to defend himself here? Is there a single way for him to come out of this not sounding deranged? If he agrees, let's Jeff's drawn conclusion be the truth, then that's all but confirmation to Steve about his big fat crush, so when Steve's back to being Steve he'll never look at Eddie again. Jeff might think he needs mental help, but he'll be here for Eddie. If he tries to deny the accusation, then he'll need an explanation. He'll have to tell Jeff something that make him seem less like a creepy stalker, but what? He can't tell the truth, not without letting everyone know he's going to tell Jeff. There's a whole other secret he'd have to let out to even have a chance of Jeff believing him.

Jeff must take his silence for acceptance or guilt, because he's speaking again. "I.... man, this is not healthy. Please tell me you aren't, like, hoarding a lock of his hair or his clothes or something."

Involuntarily, damningly, his eyes dart to the closet, where several of Steve's sweaters hang from when he'd borrowed them and never returned them. And it's not like Steve doesn't have several of Eddie's own articles of clothing, like his battle vest and a few shirts. But Jeff doesn't know they easily, willingly, swap clothes, so his eyes go wide and dart towards the closet, as if he can pick out which pieces belong to Steve on sight.

Actually, he probably can.

"This really isn't what it looks like," Eddie says because he has to say something. Being silent is too incriminating.

"I don't think you're aware of what this looks like," Jeff says, wiggling himself off of Eddie's bed to stand at the foot of it. "Of all the boys in Hawkins.... I knew you liked Steve but this is.... creepy. That doll looks so much like him that I recognized it. Does Steve know you're in love with him, or is this like a way to process your crush without having to-"

"Jeff!" Eddie yells, mortified. He can feel his whole face heat up, knows he must be bright red. Because Jeff just said, out loud and for Steve to hear, the thing that Eddie very much hasn't even said out loud to himself, even if he knows how he feels deep down.

Jeff must know he's overstepped some invisible boundary he wasn't even aware of because his face immediately shows regret. He takes a step forward and Eddie takes a step back.

Immediately, Jeff stops his forward momentum. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry."

When Eddie answers, his voice sounds like he's been eating gravel, "Just, can you go wait in the living room? I'll be right out, and we can talk, or whatever, but can you just..."

A nod, and then Jeff is gone, closing the door behind him.

With shaking hands, Eddie brings Steve back to the front of him. Looks down at him. He's not even aware he's crying until he watches his tears mark Steve's tiny polo. He can't keep holding Steve. Can't keep looking at him. Not when- not when his best friend just outed him in the worst way possible. And Eddie can't even be upset or hurt about it because Jeff didn't know. He's teased Eddie about his crushes before, and in the safety of his own room, there was no reason for Jeff to have to watch what he was saying.

Even knowing that Steve is okay with Robin, loves her anyway, without the ability to confirm that Steve doesn't hate him right now, Eddie's going to freak out. But he can't. Jeff is waiting in the living room, and the band is waiting back at Gareth's. This was just- they were supposed to just grab the amp cable and get back, a fifteen-minute job at most, and now.

Now Eddie is staring down at Steve, willing himself to not have a panic attack.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have heard it like that, it s-should have come from me. It should- you-I'm sorry," Eddie gently underhand throws Steve onto the center of the bed. He lands face up and Eddie sinks to the floor because he can't stand anymore, and he can't really breath.

Steve knows Eddie's a fucking faggot now, and that he wants Steve, and there's no way he'll get to keep the friendship they had before this. There's no universe in which Steve isn't creeped out by this information. There has never been an instance where a straight boy found out about his crush on them and didn't abandon him. Not always cruelly, he'll admit. He's had friends that learned and just... slid from his life with no words and no fuss. Eddie just never spoke to them again because they never came back around, but they also never outed him.

That's what will happen with him and Steve. He'll quit inviting Eddie around, or calling when he's bored, and eventually it will get to the point that Eddie only sees him at BBQ's that Joyce drags him to.

Fuck. FUCK!

He's not sure how long he's on the floor but eventually, he finds the will to get back up and resume digging through his closet to find the amp cord. It doesn't take long, he was ridiculously close to finding it earlier, it seems.

Before leaving his room, he picks back up the cassette player and headphones. Silence comes from them, so he pops the tape out before flipping it to the B side and popping it back in. He puts the headphones around Steve's head again and presses play, doing his best to not actually look at Steve. He'll just have another breakdown if he does.

He trudges out of his room, closing the door behind himself before taking the short walk to the living room, where Jeff waiting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes faraway as he stares towards the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Eddie says, to get his attention.

"Hey," Jeff says, sitting up straight and turning towards Eddie. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the fucking psycho here," he sighs, leaning sideways against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, hand clutching at the amp cord just for something to ground him.

"Forget that, whatever I did, or said, or whatever, you were- when you yelled my name. You looked terrified. Of me," Jeff almost whispers the last sentence, and if not for the stark silence in the trailer, Eddie wouldn't have heard.

"Not of you, Jeff," Eddie whispers back, but his voice doesn't stay quiet because 'quiet' isn't a thing Eddie does easily or often. "Of... of myself, and these- of how I feel- I'm a goddamned faggot and now that Ste- when Steve finds out I'll lose him! Like I've lost every fucking person who ever even suspected I was a fuckin' queer!"

Silence stretches between them, enough to make Eddie fidget, dropping his crossed arms to twist the amp cord about anxiously with both his hands.

"Look, man, I don't know what's, like, the appropriate thing to say so I'm just going for the honest thing. You got me. You'll never lose me. And all those other assholes that you think you lost? You're wrong. They lost you. And if Steve Harrington is gonna be another one of those, then you aren't losing him. 'Cause he was never really in your corner to begin with."

If this were anyone else, with the exception of his uncle, he would be able to hold it together better. But it's Jeff. His best friend. Who never believed Eddie committed unspeakable horrors over Spring Break last year. Who didn't question the strange, new friends he suddenly had afterwards; who accepted as the only explanation a softly spoken 'they saved me' and that was enough. Who had said 'ok, cool' in response to Eddie telling him he was gay, years ago now, and continued trying to find out if Eddie had a secret relationship, switching girlfriend for boyfriend like it wasn't a big deal (Eddie did not have a secret relationship; his good mood that week was the result of snooping for his birthday present and finding the guitar hidden under his uncle bed).

It's Jeff. So, Eddie does the most metal, manly thing he can and bursts into tears, blindly reaching for Jeff and pulling him off the couch so he can bear hug him and sob into his shirt.

"There, there, you big baby," Jeff rubs his back soothingly, "let it out. Then pull your sorry ass together, because Gareth and Brian are going to think we died in a car crash on the way here if we take much longer."

"Ah, fuck," Eddie manager to say around the sniffling he's trying to get control of, "you're right."

"You good, though?"

"Uh, I will be."

Jeff nods and steps back. "How about this. We go to practice, and then you can come to my place tonight and we can like, hangout and talk. If that's what you want."

He's already nodding as he says, "yeah. That would be good. I- uh, I have something to do after practice, but yeah, after that I'll come over."

Eddie tosses the amp cable to Jeff after they climb into the van and head off.

Halfway there, Jeff says, "you know Gareth and Brian are in your corner, too. If you ever feel like telling them one day."

"One day," Eddie agrees, "but today has already been... a lot."

Practice goes well, with some ribbing for their tardiness allowed. If Gareth and Brian notice Eddie's been crying recently, they keep it to themselves. Which is good, because Eddie cannot handle one more thing today.

A promise to meet up with Jeff later and Eddie's back home.

Back to where he left Steve, who will be laying in silence on his bed because it's been well over two hours since he and Jeff left, and the tape only held an hours' worth of music on each side. Back to the nightmare of not knowing if Steve hates him now, or if Eddie's, and this is the most likely scenario, being a bit overdramatic.

His uncle is home, so he greets him, asks after his day, gets told dinner is Fend For Yourself Night (which just means leftovers or a TV dinner), and gets asked about Steve. Because of course he does.

"You sure he went on a vacation willingly with those parents of his, and he ain't actually kidnapped and trapped somewhere?"

That's a little bit too true. If only Wayne knew. "Well, no. I'm not sure. All I know is what he said when he left."

Wayne gives him a look. One Eddie is used to seeing, that says 'I know more than you think but I'm waiting for you to tell me' and Eddie's a little afraid of what Wayne thinks he knows. So, instead of prying that box open, Eddie just says he's tired and goes to his room.

Steve is exactly where Eddie left him.

Suddenly, without reason or logic, Eddie is angry. He's so pissed at Steve for being gone for this long. For having transformed in the first place. For not being able to assure him they'll still be friends, regardless of Eddie's stupid crush.

He snatches Steve off the bed, hand clamping around one of Steve's arms and his torso so he can hold him up with one hand. Steve's face, permanently stuck into a blank expression, looks back. Even knowing that Steve sees and hears through this thing, Eddie's so angry at the doll. If Steve hadn't been turned into this stupid thing, if Eddie wasn't so helplessly in love with him, this wouldn't have happened. Eddie could have taken his own time telling Steve, instead of hearing his deepest secret spilled easily from Jeff's lips. Instead of this not knowing what Steve is thinking, or how he feels. Is he recoiling in disgust at the fact Eddie's making him look at his face? Or is Eddie being awarded the same kindness as Robin, a quiet acceptance that won't change their friendship?

Eddie doesn't know that answer and he hates it.

He's so angry with himself because he should know better. He's forcing his own insecurities onto Steve, about acceptance and caring, when nothing Steve's done since they've become friends is prove that he'll always be Eddie's friend and not even the apocalypse could change that.

"I'm going to hang out with Jeff, so you're gonna be alone a bit longer. Or maybe I should drop you off at Robin's when I go," Eddie goes to toss Steve back on the bed when something pinches his palm. It's a startling sharp pain, quick to fade, but it's surprising enough for Eddie to let go.

Eddie watches, horrified, as he falls to the floor. He twists in the air, landing with a dull thump and cracking sound on his left arm before falling onto his back.

"Shit. Shit! Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Eddie is crouched, already in the process of reaching for Steve when he freezes.

There is a crack on Steve's left arm, a line that starts above his elbow on the inside of his arm and runs down and across his arm to his hand, where Steve's pinky finger is gone. Looking slightly to the side, Eddie can see the small porcelain piece that Steve is missing laying on the ground next to him. Eddie's own hand is hovering in the air above Steve, shaking.

This can't be- how did- Eddie wracks his brain. Was the crack there already? Did Eddie cause the crack when he bounced off his dresser earlier? When did it happen? Does that fucking matter when it's Eddie who broke a piece off him? If Steve didn't hate him before, he's got to now. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about this, he's got to- El. El can talk to Steve. Find out if he's okay. What if breaking him-

Eddie launches himself up and to his dresser, grabbing at the Walkie up there. He pulls the antenna up, clicks it on and tries not to actually shout as he says, "Code Red! Code fucking Red!" He lets off the talk button, counts to seven in his head, enough time, he reasons, for someone to respond before he repeats the process. "Code Red!! Code Red!"

He repeats this process for three minutes with no response. Where the fuck is everyone!? How is he supposed to- Oh! The phone!

He tears down the hall and to the phone. He must look a right state, because Wayne looks very concerned and is halfway to standing up when Eddie gets to the phone beside him. He yanks the phone up and dials the number for the Byers-Hopper household, holding up a shaking finger to Wayne, a silent plea to give him a moment.

It rings and rings and rings before the answering machine kicks in. Eddie presses down on the disconnect button before dialing the Wheelers' number next.

"Hello?"

"Mike! Code Red! Where the fuck is everyone and why aren't they answering!?"

"What?"

"Code Red! Where's Nancy. Put Nancy on."

"Dude, slow down, what's-"

"I broke St-it. I broke it and someone needs to get El here now. Code Red does not mean ask questions, Mike! It means Code. Fucking. Red."

"Shit, shit, right! I'll get Nancy and we'll get everyone- just- we'll be there soon."

Eddie slams the phone down and has to meet his uncle's eye now.

"Eddie. What is goin' on?"

Eddie inhales a breath and can feel his lower lip quivering. "It's- can we talk about it later? I promise I'm not the one hurt, or in trouble, or- it's not me, ok. I just-"

"Yer shakin' like a leaf boy. What's got you so spooked?"

Eddie just shakes his head and flees back to his room, slamming the door shut between him and his uncle. He can't bring himself to cross the room to Steve. He slides himself down the door to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up to hug.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry."

[thestalwartheart]

'Til forever falls apart We never had it from the start

RADI00Q: 31 SONGS FOR BOND AND Q SONG 31: 'Til Forever Falls Apart - Ashe & FINNEAS

[spikezonebby]

Hi again, sorry i mess it i hope it is right now ^^, a request for song fics could you with tfp optimus prime with the song Shawn Mendes, Camila Cabello - Señorita with a fem!human!reader, genre to Romance?

Senorita - TFP!Optimus Prime/Fem!Human!Reader

Word count: 1,672

Your first meeting had actually been entirely an accident. Optimus knew some humans had an affinity for vehicles, and you were one of them. Even a Prime can only take so much fawning over his grill, rims, or decals before he gets flustered and ends up blowing his cover.

That set the tone pretty well for how your entire relationship with Optimus was going to go. The other Autobots treated their leader with all the grace and dignity deserved of a Prime, but you never let the great title dictate how you treated Optimus. You weren’t ever afraid to speak your mind or ask questions. You questioned his commands, not to undermine him but to genuinely understand and clarify. 

You seemed to find everything Optimus said fascinating, and when he’d watch you he could see the inner gears of your mind chugging along. Picking apart his words and always seeming to know exactly what was on his mind, even when he himself wasn’t entirely sure. You were the probing sort, someone Ratchet often found meddlesome and too-like Miko, but there was a grace to your inquiries. 

Optimus was, perhaps, somewhat shy to admit that he liked it when you asked about his past. Especially when you would ask about the moments that weren’t so great or grave, like his walk home in the evenings from the Hall of Records or his favorite small pleasures. There was something warm, familiar, even humbling to the idea that your two lives weren’t too different.

You used to work at a bookstore and did its inventory, spending hours organizing piles upon piles of books. He would spend cycles listening and sorting through videos and audio files to archive them in their appropriate places. You’d stop on your way home and get a donut and coffee. He’d occasionally indulge and get himself a slice of chrome-alloy cake.

Optimus did not consider himself a poet, nor any other kind of lyrical savant, but he would describe the closeness he felt to you as… magnetic. He found his gaze drawn to you in the room, your laugh made his spark skip in his chassis, and even the persistent hum of the matrix seemed more at ease around you. 

He wondered if, maybe, you knew what you did to him. It certainly seemed like you knew when you’d come close to him and lay on the lower portion of his chassis, just beneath his windshield. It seemed like you knee when you’d find a quiet moment to rest with him in his seldom-used quarters, your whole tiny body level with his face. For someone who could fit in the palm of his servo, you liked to make your physical presence known and tangible. 

He couldn’t say he minded. In fact, that was a thing that brought quite a bit of distress to the poor Prime’s mind in the moments that should be peaceful. The longer he knew you, the more enthralling the pull became. He found himself wondering if you’d hate it if he curled his servo around you, cupping you between his digits like a treasure. He thinks about the scent of your skin and the warmth of your body, should you finally close the distance between them.

You were human. You were fragile. Leaders weren’t built to have fragile things, but protect them regardless.

But he still wanted you. Enough to forgo the logical sense he had to distance himself and instead, let you keep invading his space and his mind. He couldn’t bring himself to stop this.

Not when you invited yourself into his quarters, shimmied your way up to the space on his berth right beside his neck cables and jaw, and built your own little nest of blankets and pillows there. Not when you had so much faith in him, and talked to him about all of the soft things he thought they’d killed in this war.

“That’s Neocybex, right?” You ask, snuggled up beside his audial as he laid on his back, both of you looking on up at the data pad he had in his servos. He pauses in his scrolling through, balancing the stylus in his grip as he tilts the data pad further for you to read.

“Some of it is. Other parts, like here,” He scrolls down, “Are Primal Vernacular.”

“A different dialect or a different language wholly?”

“Neither. Primal Vernacular was the predecessor of the Neocybex all Cybertronians came to speak in modern times. When I was given the Matrix of Leadership and all of its knowledge, I was also gifted the ability to speak and read this ancient Cybertronian language. I find it easier, sometimes, to take notes in.”

You sit up a little, bracing yourself with a hand on his cheek vent. “So you’re the only one that knows how to speak it?”

“Most likely.” Optimus admits, somewhat sullen, “Even before the war, it was considered a dead language on Cybertron. Transcriptions existed of people speaking the language but as Neocybex became more common, it simply was lost to time.”

You hum, and leaning this close to them, he can feel the way the small sound rumbles up through your chest.

“Teach me. At least a word or two. Something I can remember.”

“You wish to learn Neocybex? I do not know if your organic vocalizer can reproduce the sound.”

“No, no! Primal Vernacular! The letters almost remind me of… Arabic. That’s a human language so, surely I can wrap my head around some of that.”

His spark warms at that, your enthusiasm contagious. It couldn’t hurt to attempt it, it would be a good excuse to brush up on his own pronunciation.

“Ṣdyq,” He begins. “It means ‘friend.’ And if you begin it with Rjl, it becomes ‘brother.’”

“Oh so it has different rules than Earth’s version of Arabic.”

“Yes. It is fascinating, is it not? That humans have taken such an old language and made it their own?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of nice in a way. Makes things feel less…” You fish around in your thoughts for the proper word, then hum. “Lonely. Yeah. So… Rjl… Ṣdyq… means ‘brother.’ How do you say ‘sister,’ then?”

Optimus’ lip plates quirk into the shallow shape of a smile, spark warmed by your botched attempt to match his pronunciation. 

“The translations of the words are different based on their cultural meanings. Cybertronians are very rarely forged with siblings, so ‘brother’ means something closer to ‘ally.’ A feminine version of the word didn’t appear until very late, when femmes started to become more prominent. It was very rarely used though, mostly due to the… intimate implications of the word. I once listened to an interview with a linguist on the matter and he theorized that it was coined initially by Megatronus Prime of the Thirteen, as a term of endearment Solus Prime. It’s ‘Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq.’”

Now that has you fascinated.  Optimus often chose his words carefully, using them as a tool for peace and command just as often as he used his own two servos. With you, conversation came easier. Optimus only had a select few people whom he knew and trusted to allow him to talk so easily.

You stood up, keeping one hand against his jaw as you walked around him. He could feel you use him to steady your steps as you hoisted yourself up onto his neck cables. You were so light he hardly felt the pressure at all. Instinctively his servo came down to gently cup behind your back, fearing you might fall off.

“What are you doing?” He asks, but he doesn’t sound irritated. Worried maybe, curious mostly.

“I want to see the way your mouth moves when you say those words.”

It’s an innocent goal, he insists it is. A request to turn on his first level of cooling fans pops up on his HUD view. He almost denies it, then worries that he might grow too warm for you to touch. In the end he does allow them to kick on and wholly misses the way it makes you smirk.

“Come on, boss. Say ‘em.” You coax, resting your folded arms against his chin, “Please?”

Optimus looks down past his nose, examining your face as his fans cycle a little faster. Right, it would be rude to refuse you whatever small teaching aid he could offer. Even if it was unorthodox.

“Ṣdyq.” He says. You lean forward a bit, watching the way his lips move with every sound. “‘Friend.’”

“Uh-huh.”

“Rjl Ṣdyq.” You reach out and trail your tiny fingers across his bottom lip. Optimus loses his train of thought.

“Which means?” You prompt him, feigning forgetfulness.

“Ah, ‘ally.’” He can see the way you bounce a little when he swallows the thick lump forming in the back of his intake.

“Cool, cool.” When had you gotten so close to him? And it didn’t seem like you minded at all as you even used his servo balancing you from behind to boost yourself up and lay across the flat plane of his chin. 

He says your name softly. His data pad is forgotten in favor of clutching onto the tarp and padding on the berth beneath him.

“And what’s the last one?”

“Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq,” When had he started to feel so breathless? Like his fans weren’t cycling enough air.

“Mmmhm… I like that one. There’s something about the way you say it. Say it again, please?”

“Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq,” He says again, just so he can hear the joy on your voice when you giggle, “Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq. And it means– mhm?”

Before he can even finish his statement, your small, warm lips press to his bottom lip, silencing him quicker and easier than even the sound of blaster fire. His servo cups closer behind you and he knows he should stop this, he knows he doesn’t deserve this, but you make it so, so clear you want to give it to him.

And in the end… who was he to deny his Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq?

[gatzbright]

dream & george; falling in love

Dream: 'Have either of you talked about liking each other in the past?' George: *Scoffs* Dream: ... Well— George: *Giggles* Dream: Well, none of the answers fit. But I'd say, like, we've talked about 'whether' ... George: The weather? Dream: Yeah.

Dream: The realisation that, once again, I met someone that's not going to be my friend, but something more. They were never meant to be my friend in the first place. I can't avoid it. If I'm going to fall in love, I'm going to fall in love. So this song is a cry to please be gentle, please don't make me even more paranoid.

Dream: I want that part of my life to be private, you know? Regardless of who that person is ... Once the cameras are off, once we're not doing anything, it's our time. It's me and you. There's no one else. No one else exists in the world, regardless of the fact that there's thirty-million people that are looming over.

Dream: Because I'm famous and because I have all this attention on me—when I'm in my normal life it's like, I want to put the people in my life in the spotlight and make sure they feel that way. But then there's lyrics like 'the celebrity in my bed' and 'close the curtains now you're all mine' ... It's about, you know, that special someone in your life, and how in my mind, because I feel so special, I want them to feel that same specialness. So, yeah, it's about relationships and how I want that person to feel special like I do.

dream @/dreamwastaken: .@/GeorgeNotFound you've had such a big impact on my life I don't even know where to start. helping me code my videos sometimes, helping with random ideas within videos, encouraging me and always being the light in the room to make things even just a little bit brighter. you took a chance on me out of university, making thumbnails and coding for scraps because we wanted to make it big and I’m proud to say that we did it and I’ll have an appreciation for you for the rest of my life because of your friendship, kindness, and love you’ve shown me. love you man. idc if you’re never serious or if we joke around a lot, you have a place in my heart and I’m looking forward to finally meeting you and taking our next step in content creation and friendship. LOVE U

Dream: 'Spotlight' is a song I wrote about making that special someone in my life feel as special as they truly are ... I want to be there to support them through the ups and downs, and make them feel like they have a million fans screaming cheering them on, even if it's just my voice echoing a million times. They are the most important person in the world and the only one in that spotlight of love and admiration, and I want them to know that.

a lot of my future is your future

Head Over Heels / Broken, Tears for Fears | Dream and George retake 'Am I In Love With My Bestfriend' Quiz, DNF Discord Podcast | Head Over Heels / Broken, Tears for Fears | Dream Team House Cooking Stream, Awesamdude VOD | The Diaries of Franz Kafka, Franz Kafka | Paranoid, Dream | to whoever wants to hear – lyric booklet, Dream | Franz Kafka Letter, Franz Kafka | Red Doc>, Anne Carson | Photograph of Dream and George during the Foodbeast's Panel at Twitchcon San Diego, @/itsjusttai_ | Dream Team Christmas – Baking Cookies, Sapnap VOD | Paranoid, Dream | Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince, Taylor Swift | Dream's Snapchats of George, @/dream | Paris, Taylor Swift | Dream breaks down his new EP track by track, Associated Press | long story short, Taylor Swift | Dream and George on set: Everest – Dream & Yung Gravy BEHIND THE SCENES, Dream Music | Dream breaks down his new EP track by track, Associated Press | Spotlight, Dream | Technoblade Charity Stream George's POV, GeorgeNotFound VOD | Dream and George during Foodbeast's Kitchen League Battle Royale at Twitchcon San Diego, Twitch VOD | October Passed Me By, girl in red | Waiting for a Star to Fall, Boy Meets Girl | Dream Team Christmas – Gingerbread Houses, GeorgeNotFound VOD | dream Tweet, @/dreamwastaken | Dream Team Christmas – Baking Cookies, Sapnap VOD | "George napping and the sun is literally beaming him square in the face" – Photograph and Tweet, @/dreamwastaken | Paranoid, Dream | Dream and George on set: Everest – Dream & Yung Gravy BEHIND THE SCENES, Dream Music | to whoever wants to hear – lyric booklet, Dream | Dream Team House Cooking Stream, Awesamdude VOD | SOMEONE MADE A DISSTRACK ABOUT ME???, GeorgeNotFound VOD | Paranoid, Dream |

[adhdtsukasa]

prosekai au where everything is absolutely the same except niigo, instead of being a music circle, is a fanfiction writing-ish group. kanade is a writer, mafuyu is her beta reader, ena makes fancomics based on kanade's fanworks and mizuki makes trailers for upcoming fics. and basically that's it. niigo lore but everything revolves around them being wattpad ao3 users