#a few suggested Bowie

[panthermouthh]

The Man Who Fell to Earth

[steddielations]

Eddie’s queer awakening Part 2 | Part 1

Steve doesn’t know what else to do to make Eddie realize he likes him. Never in his life has he had to work this hard at winning someone over. Never.

Even with Nancy in high school, there was always a hint that she wanted him to chase her, which made it worthwhile. Sometimes, Eddie will do something that makes Steve sure he feels the same, flirting back. Then Eddie will do something that makes Steve not so sure, laughing it off.

Steve doesn’t like resorting to bullshit queer stereotypes because he doesn’t exactly fit them either, but Eddie looks like those rugged guys on his posters and album covers. Sometimes it feels like a masculinity performance worthy of King Steve, but sometimes it feels genuine.

Eddie’s not dressing like Bowie, but he prances around on cafeteria tables yelling about sodomy and he’s never had a girlfriend that Steve knows of. He could like both, same as Steve, of course. Or it could be nothing, of course. Steve’s just putting all these moves on a straight boy, about to get his heart broken again.

Robin’s given him countless pep talks, assuring him that he’s right about Eddie when he starts to doubt it. “You sniffed Vickie out just from her VHS returns. If anyone has a functional queer detector here, it’s you. Trust it.”

“What if I ask him out and he rejects me?” Steve fully understands Robin’s worries now, it’s not the same as getting shot down by a girl. “I’ve got enough rumors about me already.” They all wanted to say it in high school, calling Steve a pretty boy in tight pants that spent too much time in the mirror.

Tommy used to shoot them all down. Now he’s not by Steve’s side, snarling at anyone who suggests it. Which was mostly just Tommy trying to convince himself that everything they did under the covers at sleepovers was “just guy stuff”, and he convinced Steve too. To the point where Steve hadn’t even considered any different until a few months ago when he told Robin and— yeah, that was an eventful conversation. The first time he stumbled across the word bisexual— from a Bowie interview in one of Robin’s magazines— it felt like something clicked into place.

“I don’t think Eddie’s the type to out anyone, either way.” Robin’s right. She’s not always right, everything would be easier if she was, but she’s right about that.

“I keep having to pretend to like his shitty weed to get him to come over. Not even the yawn and stretch move worked on him. Y’know, this,” Steve demonstrates, stretching an arm above his head and then draping it over Robin’s shoulder. She shrugs him off with a fake gag. “I kept looking at his lips and I thought we were gonna kiss, but he laughed and poked me in the ribs and called me dude.”

Robin listens to all his boy troubles and then they come up with a plan. Steve decides he’s going to come out to Eddie, just put it out there that he likes guys. In a totally platonic way and hopefully that gets the ball rolling the other way, where he tells Eddie he likes one guy in particular and hopes all his Romeo efforts don’t blow up in his face.

So he goes for it. Eddie strolls into Family Video and picks out a movie that Steve’s actually heard of for once. It’s easy for Steve to throw him a smile and invite himself over. “You know this is the closest thing to a romance movie you’ve picked? No way I’m letting you watch this alone, somebody’s gotta hold your hand through the sad ending, looks like it’s gonna be me.”

Several emotions fly across Eddie’s face, landing on overwhelmed disbelief. “I don’t get it, man. How do you not have a girlfriend? You’d be so easy to fall in love with. Hell, I feel like you've made me fall halfway in love with you already. If I was a girl, I’d date the shit out of you.”

It looks like Eddie wants to clap a hand over his mouth as soon as the words leave it.

Steve watches him carefully, trying to think clearly over his heart pounding in his chest because Eddie just said he loves him, kind of. This is it. “Would you still date me as a guy?”

Eddie’s nervous hands jingle with chain bracelets as they tug his hair and hide his face. “You mean, objectively? As a guy would I date another guy? I mean, could I want that? I hadn’t really considered that option until now. Uh. Shit. Wow, this is-”

“Because I would, you know,” Steve jumps to say, as earnestly as he can, needing Eddie to finally know. How could he not know? This is it. Steve didn’t come all this way just to tap out at the finish line. He goes for it. “I’d date you as a guy, Eddie. I’d date the shit out of you, too, just like you are.”

Eddie’s face is flushed now, his eyes wide and swimming with both questions and realizations. Steve snaps out of it for a second, looking around to see the store is thankfully empty, Robin’s still on her break, but this isn’t the place for this conversation.

“Wanna talk about it over the movie tonight?” He offers.

It moors Eddie, he relaxes more and Steve hopes he’s not imagining the faint hint of a smile. “Yeah, that’s— yeah, talk. I can do that.”

“Okay, it’s a date. See you then.” Steve hands over the tape, their fingers brushing and making warmth flutter all through him. He watches Eddie halfway trip out the door, running into it once and pulling on it three times before pushing it open.

Steve can’t stop grinning, thinking about later, determined to tell Eddie he’s already in love with him too.

[livefastdrivefaster]

I Love You! | LN4

Pairing: Lando x Fem!Reader

Summary: The early stages of your relationship with Lando. Meeting his friends and saying "I love you" for the first time! Fluff (also a bit of suggestive language).

Word count: 1.2k words

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You had been dating Lando officially for nearly a month and a half now, and he had decided it was the right time to introduce you to his friend group. One of Lando’s friends were hosting a birthday dinner at their flat in Monaco, and he had spent a week convincing you that you needed to come. You felt uncomfortable at the thought of inserting yourself into his group, but you were new to Monaco, and would appreciate meeting more people your age there. You had met through a mutual friend, who would be at dinner tonight, but you had never gotten to know their extended circle. 

You didn’t live in the same apartment, but you lived close enough where you decided to finish getting ready at your boyfriend’s penthouse and travel to his friend’s party together. You were in Lando’s bathroom, struggling to put your earrings on when you heard him call your name from the kitchen.

“Y/N, are you almost ready to go love?” He calls.

“Yeah!” You respond enthusiastically, cautiously treading out of the bathroom, still trying to put your earring on. 

The backing finally clicks when you come into Lando’s line of sight, and you feel a blush creeping up on your cheeks as he unashamedly looks you up and down. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says with a low voice, pulling you into him “Maybe we should just show up a little later?” He asks suggestively, placing a gentle kiss on your collarbone. You seriously didn’t mind the idea, considering how good he looked himself right now.

“I can’t let us be late to the first time I’m meeting your friends, Lando.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“Why do you have to be so sensible.” He sighs into your neck.

“One of us needs to be. Come on, the Uber is outside.” You say, tentatively pulling away from him. He takes your hand in his and dramatically marches forward, guiding you out the door. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

The two of you were stood outside the address, bickering about who should knock on the door. You desperately didn’t want to, but Lando thought it would be good to build your confidence before meeting his friends. 

“Please Lando, just do it for me.” You plead, giving him a laughable attempt at puppy eyes. 

“Be a brave girl.” Lando says, lightly pushing you towards the door. You sigh loudly, raising your arm to the door.

“I am so getting payback for this.” You say threateningly, which is only met with laughter from Lando. Disappointed he saw right through your empty threat, you knock twice at the door. 

“Coming!” A voice calls from the inside, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. You take a step back, letting Lando’s arm circle around your waist. 

Suddenly, the door swings open and you are greeted with the face of the birthday girl. 

“Y/N!” she exclaims excitedly, “You are even more gorgeous in person, come on in.” She says, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“I’m here too.” Lando says sarcastically. 

“This isn’t about you.” She quips back, leading you inside the flat. Lando rolls his eyes, following the two of you into the main party area. 

Your arrival brings about cheers from the group, as about five people offer you a drink at once, desperate to get to know Lando’s new and elusive girl. Eventually, the energy of the party shifted into a low-key vibe, with people congregating on the couches discussing their favourite movies. 

“I’ve heard enough about the Wolf of Wall Street,” a girl, whose name you find out later to be Ria, exclaims, “what about your favourite movie scenes in particular?”

“Jordan Belfort’s big party in the Wolf of Wall Street.” A guy calls out jokingly. A few groans go around the room.

“That scene in ‘Perks of Being a Wallflower’ where Emma Watson hangs out of the car in the tunnel, listening to David Bowie” You cut in, followed by awkward fumbling with your drink.

A symphony of agreement rises around the room, particularly from the girls in the group. You settle back into your seat, trying to fight a proud smile from growing on your face, happy that your comment went down well. Lando squeezed your side lightly, giving you a silent congratulations. 

The conversation flowed well through the rest of the evening, and you involved yourself more, easily fitting into the lively group dynamic. Eventually, the party wrapped up, and you and Lando decided to Uber back to his, potentially to fulfil his request from earlier. 

“How did that go, do you think?” You asked him, placing your head on his shoulder. 

“They loved you.” He said simply.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I think you’re pretty great. And they trust my judgement.” You smiled softly at this, nestling your head deeper into the crook of his neck.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You and Lando had just finished celebrating your six-month anniversary at one of Monaco’s nicest restaurants, when you both climbed into his convertible McLaren to drive home. 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, Lando’s free hand placed on your thigh. Suddenly, Lando takes an unexpected turn, leading you away from your apartment. 

“Lando this isn’t the way back to mine.” You say, looking at him confused. His eyes remained focused on the road ahead, but his mouth widened into a cheeky grin. 

“I know, I thought we would go the scenic route tonight.” He said casually, as if it was such an obvious thing he was doing. He takes his hand off your thigh to press a button on his centre console, causing the roof above you to open, revealing the midnight blue sky above the city. 

“Let’s hope I timed this right.” Lando says to himself, and you again look at him confusedly. The song playing through the car’s sound system ends, and you hear the familiar opening notes to “Heroes” by David Bowie coming through the speakers. Your eyes flick to the road ahead of you, and you realise you’re heading towards the Monaco tunnels. 

“Lando…” Your voice trails off, touched at the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

“Save the thanks for when we get home. Hop up baby, we are nearly at the tunnel.” He smiles, patting the area of the car behind your head. 

You perch yourself on the flat top behind your seat, enjoying the cool air wrapping around your body.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You ask Lando cautiously. 

“Of course, love. There aren’t cameras through here, and you know I will drive carefully.” You feel like a rebel, testing the law a bit. As the music swells into the chorus, you raise your arms to your side, recreating the iconic scene you talked about so long ago. 

Your eyes flicker between being open and shut, wanting to take in the most of the moment, but also not daring to look away from Lando for too long. Watching his curls being tousled by the wind, you instinctively lean down to him.

“I love you!” You yell, the words leaving your mouth before you had time to stop them. Lando looks at you through the rear-view mirror, beaming a wide smile.

“I love you more!” 

[ikkyfics]

Ask me to stay

Peter Maximoff x fem!mutant!reader 

Summary: Peter stays by your side, bringing comfort, teasing, and a love that feels like home 

Warnings: fluffy, light teasing, emotional comfort, mild suggestive language, established relationship, hurt&comfort 

A/N: This was my first request and I was so excited! I hope you like it (and damn, I'm head over heels in love with it) 

Masterlist

It was hard to explain how someone like Peter had become the most important person in your life. He was a force of nature: fast, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. From the day you met, he had never seemed afraid of you. 

No, in fact, he found your power fascinating. It was strange, honestly, especially after spending years surrounded by people who feared to hear your voice. Your parents always suspected, but it wasn’t until your ninth birthday, when you showed up with a brand-new BMW in front of the house – just a simple request and the salesman himself drove the car over – that they knew their little girl was not like the other kids. 

“You have a voice that can make anyone do whatever you want? What kind of comic book villain are you?” he teased at your first meeting, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he leaned in closer, his dark eyes shining with curiosity. 

“I’m not a villain, Peter,” you replied, crossing your arms in mock indignation. 

“Oh, sure, Miss ‘do as I say.’ And I’m Captain America.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If it were me, I’d make people bring me food all the time. Or let me win at Pong.” 

“You don’t even need help with that, cheater.” 

He laughed, tilting his head to the side as if about to respond, but instead, just looked at you for a few seconds. “I think that’s what I like about you,” he said suddenly, the tone surprisingly serious. “You stand up to me. It’s cool.” 

You tried to hide the heat rising to your cheeks, but something in that moment stayed with you. Peter never looked at you like someone dangerous or different. To him, you were just… you. 

And he never changed. 

The years passed, and Peter continued to be the same boy who was impossible to keep up with. He spoke too fast, thoughts racing faster than his words, and loved to tease you. 

“Are you really going to pretend you didn’t hear me?” he said, leaning against the doorframe, holding a Twinkie like it was a prize. “I know you’re in there. I’m going to count to three… One… Two—” 

“Peter, if you annoy me, I swear I’ll make you leave here singing Abba in the square.” You hoped your voice sounded like a real threat, even though a smile fought to spread across your face. 

“Oh, the power of the magic voice.” He rolled his eyes, taking an exaggerated bite of the sweet, cream smearing across his lips. “I knew I should’ve brought earplugs. What an amateur I am.” 

And you just laughed, shaking your head as he kept talking, always jumping from one thought to the next without pause. 

Your friendship was like that: full of teasing, laughter, and an intimacy that felt natural. It was easy to be with Peter, easy to forget the complicated world outside when he was by your side. 

On that particular night, in the basement of his mother’s house, you realized just how much he meant to you. You had spent hours together, surrounded by old pillows and wrapped in the soundtrack Peter insisted was “essential to understand the decade.” 

“You have to admit, Bowie is a genius,” he said, pointing at the tape player like it was a work of art. 

“I admit he’s good,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “But not as good as Queen.” 

“What?” Peter placed a hand on his heart, pretending to be offended. “Take that back now, or I’ll be forced to challenge you to a Pong duel!” 

“You always want Pong,” you muttered, but the challenge in his eyes made you laugh. 

You spent what felt like hours playing and arguing about bands while sharing the almost endless supply of sweets he always hid. After a lot of laughter and sugar, you both fell asleep side by side in the middle of the mess. 

You woke up first, senses still numb. It took a moment to realize where you were, who you were with. Peter’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to his chest. His breath tickled the top of your head, and you could feel each rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled. It was a feeling... good. Being held so tightly by him. You sighed, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. There was something there, a scent mixed with the warmth of his skin, that made your heart race. 

Without realizing it, you gently pressed your nose to the soft flesh, letting his scent fill your lungs. The skin felt so soft, so smooth. What would it feel like to slide your lips across it? The thought triggered an alert in your mind. Friends didn’t think these things. 

“Hmm… you’re smelling my neck now?” he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep sending shivers down your spine, making you feel even guiltier. 

You pulled back as if you’d been shocked. “I… No!” 

He opened one eye, the familiar glint of teasing starting to show. “Of course not. Didn’t notice a thing.” 

You huffed, pushing his shoulder, determined to put some distance between you. “Stop, Peter.” 

He laughed, but you felt the heat in your face as you looked away. Because, at that moment, you realized something you had been trying to ignore: you were in love with your best friend. Was there a greater tragedy? 

And that thought stayed with you ever since, buried too deep for him to notice. Because, deep down, you knew Peter had always been the kind of person who could pull a smile out of you, even on your worst days.    (...) 

The week had been a real nightmare. 

Since Monday, obligations seemed to pile up like an avalanche. Exhausting training sessions with the team, a particularly complicated mission involving a hostage rescue at an enemy base, and the weight of final college exams. Even your powers weren’t much help—quite the opposite. Convincing someone to cooperate with your siren voice required extreme mental control, and using it during the mission only added to the emotional exhaustion you were already carrying. 

“You’ve got this, Siren’s Tear,” Kurt joked, trying to lighten the mood as he adjusted the communicator. 

You smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. Siren’s Tear. It was a nickname Peter had made up, a mix of joke and admiration that had spread among the X-Men. Normally, it made you smile. But this week, it felt like an extra weight. 

The mission had been chaos. Explosions, confrontations, and life-or-death decisions in a matter of seconds. Even with Kurt’s teleportation and Ororo’s storm control, the enemies were better prepared than expected. You found yourself cornered more than once, forcing your voice to a dangerous limit to make guards lower their weapons. When it was all over, you could barely stand. 

And yet, there was the rest of the week waiting for you: piled-up studying, reports for Professor Xavier, and a persistent feeling of inadequacy that whispered you never did enough. 

When Saturday finally arrived, your body and mind were at their breaking point. All you wanted was a moment of peace, a break from missions, responsibilities, and any reminder of how difficult it was to balance the two lives you led. 

It was in this state that Peter showed up. 

You barely had time to process his entrance, as he appeared the way he always did—unannounced, without ceremony, with that playful smile plastered across his face. He held a bag of Twinkies in his right hand and a copy of Space Invaders in the left, as if there was no chance in the world you wouldn’t want to spend the next few hours with him. 

“Hey, Siren’s Tear, missed you,” he said, completely ignoring the pitiful state you were in. He threw the bag of snacks on the sofa and started rummaging through the stuff on the table, talking so fast you could barely keep up. “I thought maybe we could relax a bit. I know you’ve had a crazy week, but guess who got the highest score at the arcade? Me. Of course, it was me. And I thought—” 

“Peter…” you started, your voice hoarse from the repeated use of your power over the past few days. The pressure in your head was so intense you could almost imagine it exploding. 

“—that maybe you could try to beat my record. But good luck, because I’m unstoppable. Seriously, they should rename the game ‘Peter’s Challenge’. What do you think?” 

“Peter, stop.” You looked at him with no trace of humor. 

He finally looked at you, confused, but with that smile still there, as if he couldn’t imagine that you weren’t on the same wavelength as him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head, his dark eyes like coal examining you from head to toe. “You look like you could use a Twinkie. Or two.” 

You closed your eyes, trying to take a deep breath, but fatigue and irritation finally broke through your self-control. 

“I don’t need Twinkies, Peter!” you exploded, your voice louder than ever. “I need a minute of peace! Just one minute, without you talking nonstop, without you messing everything up, without you… Without you annoying me! Can you just disappear for a while?!” 

The room fell into absolute silence. Both surprised, not knowing how to react. You had never shouted at him, not really. The weight of your words made your shoulders sink, a bitter taste in your mouth. 

His eyes were wide, surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Peter Maximoff, the boy who never stopped talking, was speechless. 

You realized the gravity of what you’d said in the same instant, but before you could try to fix it, he took a step back, the usual smile replaced by something much sadder and more vulnerable. You had never seen him look so sad. Regret made your stomach burn. 

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice low and hesitant, fingers fidgeting nervously. “I… didn’t know you could be influential without your powers.” He commented, his voice dry and brittle. 

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he raised a hand, as if asking you to stop. 

“It's okay,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

“Peter, don’t—” He disappeared long before you could finish your sentence. 

The characteristic sound of his speed faded as quickly as he did, leaving only a heavy silence behind. 

You stood there, frozen in the middle of the room, your hand still extended in the air, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over you, along with the emptiness left by him. Tears came before you could stop them, flowing hot and silent as you collapsed onto the bed. 

Why did you have to explode at him? Why did you have to hurt the one person who always made a point of being by your side, even when you didn’t want to be? 

You knew Peter had good intentions. He always had. He just didn’t know how to show them the right way. 

But now, he was hurt. 

And for the first time, you felt completely alone. 

(...) 

Three days. 

Three days without a sign of Peter. 

The Xavier mansion, always so full of life, felt suffocating now. You could barely look at the familiar faces around you without feeling a tightness in your chest. Everything seemed darker, slower, as if the world were mirroring the whirlwind inside you. 

The others noticed, of course. 

“Are you okay?” Jean asked, her voice soft as she touched your shoulder. You just shook your head, unable to respond. There were no words for the weight of regret you felt. 

Even Logan, always so distant, paused as he walked past you in the hallway and gave you a concerned look. “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know,” he said, his voice low and serious. 

But nothing helped. 

You barely ate, barely slept. When you closed your eyes, all you saw was Peter’s face, the sad smile he tried to hide before disappearing. 

“I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

His words echoed in your mind like a curse, a constant reminder that you had done what you never thought was possible: pushed Peter Maximoff away. 

He had always been there. From the first moment, when you arrived at the mansion nervous and lost, he was the first to break the ice. You were startled by his repeated closeness. One moment you were alone, and the next he was right in front of you, all silver hair and easy smiles. 

“So, what’s your power?” He leaned in, eyes narrowed as he looked at you with interest. “Can you make people give you free pizza? Because that would be impressive.” 

It was a silly question, of course, but the way he said it—with that crooked smile and energy that was impossible to ignore—made you laugh for the first time in weeks. 

And from then on, he had been a constant in your life. 

You played Space Invaders until your hands hurt, stole treats from the kitchen on midnight missions, and spent hours in his basement (his mother’s) listening to records of bands he insisted were the best in the world. You knew he had tough moments, but he never let it show. He masked the pain with jokes and speed, and you loved him for it—the lightness he brought to your chaotic world. 

Now, his absence felt like a hole in your chest. 

On the third day, you were sitting on the living room sofa, staring at a book you hadn’t managed to get past the first paragraph, when you heard Kurt and Ororo talking in the distance. A draft of air carried his words to you. 

“Peter didn’t show up for training again today,” Kurt said, his voice full of concern. “This isn’t like him.” 

“He didn’t come to breakfast either,” Ororo replied. “Do you think he’s okay?” 

Your heart sank the moment their words reached you. It was as if the world had stopped, leaving only the deafening sound of guilt pounding in your ears. 

Peter wasn’t okay. 

You knew that. 

Rising, you left the room without saying a word, ignoring the curious looks from the others. Each step felt heavier than the last, but you knew what you needed to do. 

Deep down, you already knew where to find him. 

The Maximoff house had a peculiar charm that always made you smile. A mix of the '70s, nostalgia, and controlled chaos that perfectly suited Peter. But today, as you climbed the steps to the porch, your heart was too heavy to be swayed by the usual sense of comfort. 

At the door, holding the stack of sweets and the pizza box—the favorite of both of you, with extra pepperoni and that crispy crust Peter always called “a gift from the gods”—you took a deep breath before knocking. 

Mrs. Maximoff opened the door almost immediately, with her warm smile and curious eyes. “Oh, dear! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. 

She stepped back, holding your face for a moment. “You look... tired. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine. Actually, I came to see Peter.” 

Her expression softened, but her eyes shone with a touch of concern. “He’s in the basement. He spends most of his time down there lately.” She hesitated before adding, “He misses you, you know? And so do I. You bring good energy to this house.” 

Her words were simple, but they hit hard. You gave a small, shy smile and a “Thank you,” before heading down to the basement, your heart pounding too fast in your chest. 

As you descended the steps, a familiar soundtrack began to fill the space: the sound of an intense pinball game, interspersed with muffled music from a nearby radio. 

Peter was in his element. 

The first thing you noticed was the speed. He darted back and forth across the basement in a typical frenzy, alternating between playing the arcade game, taking bites of a Twinkie, and making quick adjustments to the stack of vinyl records by the old record player. 

For a moment, he passed by too quickly, the movement so fast it looked like a silver blur. But even so, he paused long enough to take a good look at you. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the tired expression, and, most of all, the look of regret that seemed to weigh on you like a second skin. And, of course, you still looked beautiful as always, in one of those summer dresses that left your shoulders and collarbone on full display. God, he loved those dresses, and loved seeing you wearing them even more. 

Peter went back to the arcade as if nothing had happened, but his game slowed down a bit, the movements less precise. It was enough for you to catch up. 

He looked the same as always, but completely different. There was a crease between his eyebrows, his hair was tousled, and he looked disheveled. 

You set the pizza and sweets on a makeshift table full of empty wrappers and called out, your voice wavering, “Peter, can we talk?” 

He stopped pressing the buttons but didn’t turn around right away. For a moment, he stood there, his shoulders rigid, before straightening and turning to face you. “Sure. I’m all ears.” You felt small under his gaze. 

The attempt to look nonchalant fooled no one. The tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his brows, and the arms crossed over his chest told another story. 

You stepped forward, hesitating, really trying to find the right words. “I came to apologize. I was wrong, Peter. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but that’s no excuse for yelling at you. I... I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and... I really want things to go back to normal. For us to go back to how we were before.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head, letting out a long, heavy sigh. The gesture made your heart drop, as if you were falling off an endless cliff. 

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. A punch to the stomach wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

“No?” you repeated, unable to hide the confusion and tightness that overtook you. Your heart sank in your chest, the feeling like falling. 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his legs. “I don’t want things to go back to normal,” he explained, his voice even lower, almost a whisper. 

You blinked, completely bewildered. “What does that mean?” 

He took a step toward you but stopped, maintaining a small distance. His eyes met yours, and the intensity in his gaze made you hold your breath. 

“It means that I’m sorry too,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “I shouldn’t have provoked you like that, especially when you were already exhausted. But... I do it because...” He stopped, clearly struggling to find the right words. 

“Because what?” you urged, feeling your palms begin to sweat. 

This was it—Peter was a tiny step away from ruining everything again. But damn it, he had to risk it. He couldn’t just pretend he wanted to be just friends. How could he? It was painful to be so close and so far away at the same time. He needed more; he wanted more. 

“Because I like your attention, okay?” he finally blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. “I like when you look at me, even if it’s to tell me to shut up or roll your eyes. I like when you smile at my stupid jokes, even if you pretend you don’t find them funny. And, damn, I like being near you.” 

“Peter…” you began, but he raised a hand to interrupt you. 

“I know, I know,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m terrible at this. That’s why I always hide everything behind jokes and teasing. But... it’s true. I like you. I really do. And I don’t want things to go back to normal, because, to be honest, ‘normal’ was never enough for me.” 

You stood still, each of his words piercing deep into your chest, but in a sweet, almost painful way. He was there, completely vulnerable, and you didn’t know if it was possible to love him more than you did at that moment. Your heart slammed against your ribs with each painful beat. 

He felt the same. Peter felt the same. 

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you kept your gaze locked on him, taking in every word. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you finally said, your voice heavy with emotion. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s annoying,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But it’s also… everything I needed to hear.” 

His eyes widened slightly, shocked by your confession. “Really?” 

You shrugged, feigning casualness, but your smile gave you away. “So, are you going to kiss me or keep stalling?” 

The surprise on his face turned into a mischievous grin. “Oh, so now it’s me who’s stalling?” 

“Peter,” you warned, but he was already closer, so fast that you barely noticed the movement. 

His hands cupped your face, purposefully slow, still with a small smile curled on his lips as he moved closer and closer. Your eyes closed as you felt his breath intertwine with yours, his sweet breath making you imagine that his mouth must be even sweeter. Gently, his lips molded to yours, remaining that way for a moment before he pulled back. You felt his chest rise and fall unevenly, as if he had run around the planet. Peter murmured something, too fast for your ears to understand. 

The next second his lips pressed against yours again, hungry. His hand went down your spine, firming on your waist to pull you closer, crushing you against his chest as his lips explored your mouth. You sighed as you felt his tongue, soft and warm, slide across yours, kissing you deeply. He kissed you for what could have been an eternity, stealing the air from your lungs, turning you into a fragile creature dependent on the caresses of that wicked mouth. 

When you separated, he refused to stop kissing you, rubbing his lips along your jaw, leaving love bites on the side of your neck, adoring every part of you, as if to make up for all the lost time. Small noises of pleasure escaped your mouth, your knees barely seemed capable of keeping you upright, so your hands quickly found support on his broad shoulders. “Peter.” You sighed weakly, feeling your face heat as he straightened, leveling your faces. His mouth was red and swollen, with a crooked smile, his eyes darker than ever. 

“I should do this more often,” he teased, his voice low and husky, his fingers still kneading the soft flesh of your waist. 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile. “Maybe.” 

He chuckled, gently brushing your hair away from your face, looking at you more closely. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone more serious now. 

“A little,” you admitted, shrugging, afraid of ruining the moment. 

“Then I think it’s time for you to rest.” 

“But—” He didn’t allow any objections, guiding you to the bed nearby, wide enough for both of you. He settled down beside you, pulling you to lie against him. His fingers traced calming circles on your back. “You can’t send me away anymore, got it?” 

You nodded, your face pressed against the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that dulled your senses. The accumulated exhaustion finally began to ease. “But I can still make you dance to ABBA in the street.” You joked, smiling as he shuddered dramatically. 

“Do your worst, you little troublemaker.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple, and countless others until he reached your ear. “Ask me to stay,” he whispered, and just because he could, he nipped the sensitive skin just below. 

You shivered, holding him tighter in your arms, feeling his chest vibrate with a silent laugh. Raising your face, you used your siren voice. “Stay with me, Peter.” 

His eyes widened in surprise, staring at you for long seconds before his lips curled into a devilish grin. “Fuck, can you do that again? Please, we need to test your powers when—” 

“Peter.” You cut him off with a laugh, burying your face back against his chest, feeling your cheeks burn at the direction the conversation had taken. “Later, okay? Can we just rest now?” 

“You don’t have to ask twice, love.” 

The familiar sense of security you always felt around him returned in full force, but this time there was something more. Something deeper, more intimate. 

With your face pressed to his neck, you hesitated for a moment before placing a soft kiss there, a silent thank-you for everything he was. 

Peter tightened his embrace, and for the first time in days, you felt whole. 

[livwritesstuff]

The first Harrington family cat was planned.

Hastily planned, sure, but still planned.

Steve and Eddie’s daughters had been campaigning for a puppy for ages, which…would not be happening. 1984 might have been thirty years ago and maybe Steve should have recovered from that shit by now but he knows for sure and certain that he couldn’t handle getting a dog – ever, and especially not since Moe turned thirteen (the same age Dustin had been when Steve was convinced he would have to watch him get torn to shreds by a stampede of demo-dogs).

Then, one of their neighbors got a tiny little kitten and all three of their daughters were so obsessed with it that their quest for a family pet took a complete 180.

Steve and Eddie saw a window of opportunity and they were going to take it, so they picked a weekend, went down to the animal shelter, and three hours later, a tiny black and white kitten named ZZ (as in Zinnia, if you asked the girls, Plant if you asked Steve, and Top if you asked Eddie) was adopted.

The second (and final) Harrington family cat was not planned.

Two years after they adopted ZZ, Eddie took Hazel to the shelter to say hello to all the animals (which they did all the time). Pretty much the second they arrived, they both fell head-over-heels in love with a two-year-old tabby cat, and because Steve accounts for about 90% of Eddie’s impulse control, it didn't take Hazel much more than suggesting they adopt the cat for Eddie to agree.

Halfway through the drive home with their new cat, Bowie, in the backseat, Eddie realizes that he might have made an error.

“This is gonna be our secret for a bit, okay Haze?” he said slowly.

“How come?”

“Uh…it’s gonna be a surprise.” 

(Which technically isn’t a lie – it would definitely come as a surprise to Steve whenever Eddie figured out the best way to tell him).

In the end, it took Steve two entire days to discover the new cat, when he heard a meow coming from behind Hazel’s closed door.

He assumed it was ZZ until he turned his head and saw ZZ sitting at the end of the hall and flicking her tail as she slowly blinked at him.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered as he pushed open the door.

Indeed, there was a cat in Hazel's bedroom.

Steve stared at the cat for a while (mostly just making sure he wasn’t imagining it), and after a few moments it opened its mouth and let out a squeaky meow.

“Hello,” he replied cautiously.

Then he shut Hazel’s door, and called his husband.

Eddie, the second he picked up: Stevie, my love. To what do I owe the pleasure?

Steve: Why is there a cat in Hazel’s room?

Eddie:

Eddie:

Eddie: ZZ?

Steve: I'm going to kill you.

[silvercloverr5]

can I have an only one bed situatuon with sirius x fem reader pretty please

nsfw or sfw your take as well as the plot

thank you lovee

No problemmm!!! Hope u like it!!

One bed? ~ S.O.B

{in which you and Sirius share a room in James’s house.}

It was the summer break, and you’d decided to stay at James’s house with Sirius and Remus. However, after graciously greeting fleamont and euphemia, (who ADORED you might I add), you followed James upstairs. He showed you his room first. “Right, so this is my room. Rem, you’ve got the one beside it, aaaand… you two can go in that one!” He grinned, gesturing to you and Sirius. Upon peaking inside, you interrupted his and Sirius’s conversation. “Hey- prongs? There’s just one bed in here.” James locked eyes with Remus, as if they knew something you didn’t. “Yeah, uh… goodnight, guys!” Remus said, before both boys retreated into their assigned rooms. You turned to Sirius. “I’ve always wanted to sleep with you.” Sirius teased, raising an eyebrow playfully. You roll your eyes.

He was the first to flop onto the bed, landing in a jokingly suggestive pose that made you laugh at him. Sirius black was, naturally, a flirt. He began rolling around in the sheets like a madman. “Alright, padfoot, no need to mark your scent on it, now.” You say, smiling at his antics. He scoffs. “You’re next if you’re not careful, pup.” You stop unpacking. “Sorry, pup? That’s you, dickhead.” “Yeah, whatever. Also, you’re letting me play Bowie. I don’t care. I saw that record player first, so you can fuck right off.” Sirius jumps off of the bed and flicks through the ones that lay beside the vinyl player, hissing a drawn-out “yes” when he finds ‘the rise and fall of ziggy stardust and the spiders from mars’ by David Bowie.

A few hours later, with both Remus and James asleep in their rooms, you had started to worry about your sleeping situation. You and Sirius had danced together to the full album twice now, and once it ended, you both fell back onto the bed. He looked at you, and you looked at him. His black locks spilled out like a halo beside him, you couldn’t help the blush creeping up on you. What am I doing? This is my best friend. You scold yourself. “So, who’s taking the bed?” You ask him. “Huh? Well, m’lady, I’m not letting you sleep on the FLOOR. C’mon, mate, youre my best friend, it’d basically be like sleeping in the same bed as James.” He reasons. You bite your lip. It really wouldn’t feel like sleeping in the same bed as James to me. But it didn’t take much convincing for you to lay beside him.

The lights were off now, but you soon noticed how cold it was in the room, you basically forced Sirius to check if the window was shut, but it seemed to be broken, constantly stuck slightly ajar. You huff in frustration, brows furrowing and shoulders quivering. Noticeably, Sirius’s pretty eyes flood with concern. “Oh, my star.” He says. You’re used to him calling you that, but in this situation, it feels different. It feels intimate. He moves to wrap more of the duvet around you, gently pulling you towards himself. “Sirius-“ “my star, it’s fine. We’re best mates. I’m allowed to warm you up.” He excused. You didn’t have it in you to argue with him, and, honestly, you’d always fantasised about him. You lay your head on his shoulder as he hugged you closer to him. He was warm, admittedly. Really warm. You let out a small moan of satisfaction.

At that sound, Sirius tensed beneath you. “Sirius? Are you okay?” You asked him, burrowing closer. “What? Yeah. Mhm.” He mumbled. His usual cocky demeanour had vanished and his usually pale face was flushed. You leant up slightly and noticed a bump in the covers. He was hard. “Sirius…” you started. “I-I’m sorry, mate, I’m really sorry.. I didn’t mean-“ you shut him up with your lips pressed against his soft ones. Frozen at first, you had to work him into it, eventually both of your lips moved in unison. He whimpered as you pulled away. “Let me help you out, Siri.”

Not taking off the covers in fear of bracing the cold, you shuffled to straddle him beneath them. Through his pyjama pants you could tell. He was big. He couldn’t contain his breathy whines as you ground down onto his hard-on. He started to whimper your name. “It’s not funny. Please, just do something.” “Wow. Never thought I’d hear THE Sirius Black beg.” You teased. His lip quivered and you rolled your hips a few more times, testing his limits. Until his long fingers gripped your hips and a deep growl left his throat.

He flipped you over, pinning you to the bed with a desperation you’d never seen in him before. “I need this. I really need you.” he whispered, his eyes dark with lust and… something more serious? Love? He pulled his pants down and pushed your panties to the side. You could feel his tip dragging up and down your opening, and you watched his eyebrows scrunch in self-control. As he eased into you, you were overcome with white-hot pleasure. “Fuck, Siri.. you feel so good… mh..” you whimpered. Through your hazy vision, you admired the way Sirius let out broken, shameless moans as his face contorted in bliss, eyes rolling back every now and then. He picked up his pace, hips rolling slightly faster.

Gripping the sheets either side of you, you bit your lip, trying not to cry out. He felt so fucking good. So good. But Sirius hit that spot. “AGH! FUCK, SIRI!” You cried, grasping his bony, tattooed shoulders. His signature smirk made an appearance. “Oh yeah? You- hah- you like that, my little star? My- nghhh.. oh, my star… mine…” his confidence faded again, turning to complete, raw, primal need. He sped up, his mushroom tip prodding deliciously into your sensitive spot with each thrust. You could hear the sinful wet sounds of where you were connected and the quick, loud snapping of his hips against yours as he lowered his head into the crook of your neck, shamelessly moaning your name and the word “mine” over and over. “Sirius! Oh, Sirius, yes! I’ve got you, I’ve got you, baby!” You hugged his back as Your mouth formed an ‘O’ shape. you felt the most heavenly orgasm you’ve ever had overtake you. During the euphoria, you grabbed a handful of his sweaty black curls as he fucked you, tugging on them hard. At that, Sirius let out the dirtiest, most pornographic groan you’d ever heard, and you felt his hot seed explode into you. His thrusts slowly ceased as he pulled out And collapsed onto you. He was breathing heavy into your neck and your first thought was to stroke his hair and back, praising him.

“That was so fucking great, Sirius. You were so good.” You told him, whispering in his ear and petting him lovingly. Very unlike a best friend would. But, really, what could you two say about what best friends did? You felt him smiling into your collarbone. He murmured your name. “Yes?” “I think I’m in love with you.” He mumbled. You let your expression fade into a satisfied smile. “I’m in love with you, too, Sirius Black.” You said, leaning your cheek on his mop of sweat-ridden coal-black hair. “But we have to get cleaned up.” He groaned in reluctance.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his stupid joke. “Will that ever get old to you?” You asked. “Nope.” He replied.

James now owed Remus 10 galleons.

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Fourth Wing Men HCs: nicknames for him

Includes: Bodhi Durran, Garrick Tavis

A/n: I haven’t wrote some headcannons in a HOT minute, but me and @garricks4thwingqueen have been conspiring and inspired me to take a whack at it again. These got a smidge long, so I will make a part 2 with more characters, and other scenarios, but you know who had to start with! I also included some AI pics I’ve been cooked up that are mashes of my fancasts ideas for the characters. I have the hardest times visualizing a lot of characters and places in stories and sometimes the AIs I’ve seen all look alike or aren’t itching the right part of my brain. Disclaimer: I tried to take into consideration book accuracy, but AI is AI and I only dabble w it on my phone. So I’ll take what I can get. Skin tones, hair, proportions may not be perfect. These just personally help get a better concept, and I find fun to make, and anddd risking forgetting about a free 7 day trail from time to time 🕳️🤸‍♀️ *muah* enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking/smoking (if u squint), suggestive content

Bodhi Durran

Bo/Boh, beau, bowie, Bo Bo, babe, love

Xaden and him are maternal cousins. While the firstborn always had the weight of responsibility growing up being an heir by his parents. The younger cousin was always ‘coddled’ by his. Though he adored his family, he hated how they always doted on him. Mainly because of how much his older cousin and his best friend would tease him about it.

Xaden and Garrick started cooing “Bowie” and “Bo Bo” at him when they were 12, he was 11.

“Bowie, don’t forget to write to me.” “Bowie, be good for your uncle.” “Oh Bo Bo don’t you look so handsome today!” They’d snicker to him under their breaths when he’d arrive at the fortress when his mom would drop him before flying out to an outpost. Watching how his cheeks flushed red, and he had tight balled fists pressed at his sides.

Once the doors closed, after formal introductions with his Uncle and lingering personal staff were done, and once the adults a room away—he would hurl one of his clenched fists at their shoulders.

Starting a playful brawl amongst the three

Spoiler alert: Bo Bo back then lost once or twice…maybe a handful of times

Then as awkward teenagers when problems were simpler the three of the pubescent boys discovered churam and drinking. Bodhi started unironically calling himself Bo Bo and Bowie, mockingly teasing himself as a ‘bit’.

The young men were sat around a fire in the clearing to the outside of Riorson House. Xaden and Garrick in a heated debate over a petty topic. “Bo Bo can’t comprehend what’s going on right now.” He would say, exaggerating and scratching his the top of his head. It had been effective for the most part to ease the tension between his friends

Now from time to time, he’ll still do it especially if you’re present. He always thought you looked cute as you shook your head with a crooked smile spread across your face when he did it

Sometimes fhd guys would find him doing something badass, you’ll hear triumphant whooping from Xaden and Garrick, endearingly using the nicknames they called him as a child

“Go Bowie!” “Bo Bo that was fucking awesome!” “Bowie! Bowie! Bowie!”

But if anyone else besides the select few called him those names, he’d glare daggers at them. Like the time Ridoc tried to call him Bo Bo during lunch while the group was joking around

Bodhi’s boyish grin disappeared instantaneously. “If you ever call me that, I will rip your tongue out.”

The first time he heard you call him Bowie tho, he nearly melted. It was one of the first times you slept over with him and he had to get up early for a leadership meeting

You propped up on elbow, using your other hand to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Do you have to go, Bowie?” A small pout on your lips watching him get dressed

His other pet names from you were selective, usually just calling him Bo/Boh, but your favorites were Babe and Love

Babe being the one you leaned towards the most

especially when you would catch him doing something ridiculous or he’d press your buttons. Or just when you wanted something

“Babe? Are you kidding me?” “Babe stop!”

“Babe can you get me another drink, please?” You asked, looking up from your lashes with puppy dog eyes. He folded every time no matter if you were closer to the serving station or bar. How could he say no when you gave him that look? Not caring, flipping all his friends off as they’d give him knowing smiles.

He was a simp for you

Love was usually reserved for tender moments with him. When you’d notice he’d be having a bad day, or to calm him down when you’d notice he was fuming silently beside you at something going on

Intertwining your fingers with his giving a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright, Love.”

Or holding his cheeks, bringing him to eye level with you. “I’m here, Love. Can you take a couple deep breaths for me?”

Sometimes you broke out the corny double entendre of beau. Very select people would get it, but you thought it was great

Mainly you’d be out to the taverns with your friends when you’d use it. Usually when a girl would approach him, and you’d try to hide your jealousy tho it was plain as day

“He’s actually my beau.” You’d say, a sinisterly sweet smile on your face when a girl tried to introduce herself. Your hand twirling the curls at the nape of his neck. Bodhi would always shiver from the gesture, trying to contain his arousal at your possessiveness

Then later in the night, he’d pin you to the wall of his room. Pressing feverish kisses up the column of your throat. “Are you gonna show me all the way I’m your beau?” He muttered before grazing the delicate skin with his teeth

Garrick Tavis

Gare, Tavis, Gary, Gare Bear, Hon/Honey, Sir

His parents tried to call him Gary at one point growing up, but he always ignored them or begged them not to call him that. It always sounded so stupid to him

Garrick was blunt, dry, and straight to the point not caring for nicknames. Only really preferring to be called by his name or Gare on occasion by his friends and acquaintances. His last name an even better alternative than a nickname

But Xaden, Imogen, and Bodhi took a sick pleasure in all the creative corny nicknames his parents would try to make a thing for him growing up.

“I think we oughta get Gary’s input?” Imogen leaned her chin in her hand as they all discussed weekend plans after school looking over at the towering young man. The side of her mouth crookedly lilting upward, knowing she struck a nerve. Garrick could already feel his eye twitch, clenching his quill as he acted like he hadn’t heard them a few feet away at the table in the library.

“It seems Gare Bear’s not in the mood today.” Xaden would casually lean back in his chair, smirking, and watching his best friend stroll into the dining room late for dinner time after a terrible day

Which would result in Garrick walking by, and tipping his chair back causing the Riorson to flail and fall backwards. “Relax asshole,” Xaden hissed, rubbing his head.

To this day they still called him the silly names. Taking immense pride when you had picked up on the memo, and started to call Garrick the names he despised. Especially because you two weren’t each others favorite people at first

The first time it happened, it was when Garrick pissed you off. He had been criticizing all your sparring movements, and you had enough. “Sorry we can’t all be perfect like you, Gare Bear.” You’d sneer, watching the irritation form on his face.

“Do not call me that.” He’d glower, but you’d just smile brightly. “Whatever you say…Gare Bear.”

Seeing how it got under his skin, from that moment on you’d always call him just to pester him. Enjoying the glare he’d shoot your way or awaiting for whatever witty remark he’d reply

Eventually once you two started getting along, you called him his first name, being more considerate towards his feelings. Garrick’s chest filling with disappointment as he awaited the usual Gare Bear falling from your pretty lips.

“Hey Garrick,” it was a rare moment when you found him by himself. None of your mutual friends around for once, and one of the first interactions you had alone. “What?” He looked up from what he doing. “I said hey?” You gave him a weird look. “But you called me Garrick.” He said in disbelief. “That’s your name isn’t it?” “You always call me Gare Bear tho.”

That’s when you realized he secretly liked it despite him trying to act annoyed at you.

Then when you had officially started dating, he had to get used to fact you loved calling him all these terms of endearment. Deep down, loving how you could make him become bashful by your words

“Here you go, Honey.” Leaning down, kissing his cheek, setting down a dish of apple crisp in front of him. You knew how much he liked the dessert and grabbed an extra one when getting your dinner. Garrick’s cheeks tinged red and chuckled appreciatively, “you’re the best.” His friends just silently stared as if you two had three heads. “What’s the matter?” You asked the group unphased, taking a seat. “You broke him.” Imogen replied in awe.

You had changed his perception on being called nicknames. Even letting it slide when his friends poked fun at him with the once despicable nicknames

Out of all the nicknames you called him, his favorite by far was the one you’d use in the bedroom.

“Please,” you begged, while sitting on your knees. “Please what?” Garrick gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You gulped, “please Sir.” A cruel smirk on his face, pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

[humanityinahandbag]

Steddie: Wayne the Matchmaker (Part 1?)

Wayne wasn't born yesterday.

He knows full well that his nephew, his boy, is far gone for the Harrington kid. Knows it in the way he sighs, the way he drapes himself over the couch. Knows it in the way lyrics pour out of Eddie's room while he tries to write songs (just last Tuesday he heard Eddie muttering goddammit what rhymes with chest hair from behind his bedroom door).

So it isn't much of a surprise to see Eddie swooning quietly by the front door as he shoves his feet into ratty sneakers, a red car waiting in the driveway. Government hush money had been enough for Wayne to take less shifts, to put some away for Eddie's future, and to buy a modest one floor ranch house on a tree lined street closer to his boy's new friends.

Including the one currently walking carefully around the newly planted posies towards the front door.

"You seein' that Harrington boy again?" he asks.

Eddie's face went pink, and he ducked down pretending to look through his backpack for something. "Yeah," he says behind a curtain of hair. "We're going to the movies."

"S'nice. What are you seein'?"

"Uh, the new David Bowie thing. Labyrinth."

Wayne ignores how Eddie phrases it, like he hadn't been bouncing off the walls to see that little David Bowie Thing when the posters first showed up outside Melvalds. "Doesn't much seem his taste. He choose it?"

"Yeah, he-" Eddie stops and looks up. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do that," Eddie says, fixing his Uncle with a frosty stare. "I know what you're doing, and we're just- we're friends. He's- he likes his ex. You should see them, honestly. They're like, perfect together. Dream couple." As if Wayne didn't hear the sorrow behind his tone.

"Mmmhm," says Wayne. "You sure?"

Eddie didn't get a chance to rebuttal when the door was knocked. Wayne opens it before he could.

"Hi, sir." Always polite this one. Steve's wearing a polo shirt and light wash jeans. It all looks newly pressed. And if he breathes in- yup. That's definitely cologne. "Uh, I'm here for Eddie?"

"Yeah, he's here. You wanna come in-"

"He doesn't." Eddie pops out from behind the door, glaring over his shoulder at Wayne. "C'mon, Stevie! We'll miss the previews!"

"Bye, Mr. Munson!" Steve calls over his shoulder. He grabs Eddie by the back of the collar, tugging him backwards, laughing and racing him to the car.

And well. This just wouldn't do.

-

Wayne never pretended to know a whole lot about love. He'd had his flings back in the day, but life had given him more curveballs than he'd been able to catch at once.

Not that he was complaining. Eddie was one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

But dammit if he didn't want the kid falling down the same hole he had.

Eddie deserves love. And Wayne figures that a few gentle nudges wouldn't hurt.

-

It starts with simple suggestion.

The next time Steve is at the front door, Wayne makes sure to distract Eddie with a well timed, "fix your hair," that had him scrambling for the bathroom, leaving Wayne alone with the Harrington boy.

"Steve," he says.

"Mr. Munson! Nice to see you. Um, we're just going to the arcade-"

"He likes sticky hands."

Steve blinks. "Sorry?"

"If you're gonna win him anything, get him one'a those sticky hands. It'll be hell on me, but he loves'm."

Steve nods, like it was precious information, perking up when Eddie breaks out of the bathroom.

When they get back, Eddie is considerably pinker, slapping everything around the house with a stupid pink sticky hand on a string.

"Steve won it for me," he says, as if daring Wayne to take it away.

Wayne only cracks another beer.

-

(He tells himself over and over that this is for the pursuit of love, even when he wants to shove Eddie out a window the fourth time a very sticky hand thwacks him on the back of his bald head.)

-

"He likes sunflowers," Wayne says the next time he sees Steve, which just so happens to be a week before graduation. Steve had arrived with a cake. A cake he baked. From scratch. Eddie had run to get his camera to take a picture and that was when Wayne got his chance.

Steve looks up at Wayne owlishly. "Sorry?"

"Sunflowers," Wayne repeats. "If you get him flowers for graduation, that's what he likes."

Steve nods seriously, brow drawn in thought. "Cool," he says finally. "Sunflowers."

Eddie gets sunflowers for graduation. He presses one of the petals between the pages of The Hobbit.

"Still think he's just a friend?" Wayne asks from the doorway.

Eddie traces the petal and closes the book. "It's enough," he says.

Wayne gives his nephew a long look. "You're allowed to like him."

"I know."

"No. You're allowed to like him," Wayne says again. "Like him like you like him."

Eddie stares at the petal. "I know," he says. And then; "I love him."

"I know," says Wayne and bundles Eddie into a hug.

-

Wayne gets to a point where he could gnaw through the walls of their new home, which he won't do, because Claudia Henderson chose the wallpaper and chewing on furniture is mostly frowned upon. But by god does he want to.

Wherever Eddie is, Steve follows. He appears at their front door to take Eddie on hikes. When he heard Eddie never learned to swim, he takes him to the quarry and Eddie comes back damp and flushed and Wayne guesses it has something to do with the shirtless boy in the driveway.

And yet through it all, Eddie doesn't see.

He doesn't see the long looks or the careful touches. Doesn't grasp the meaning behind Steve appearing one night with a bag of groceries and a smile and an announcement of I'm cooking you dinner! before making the best damn lasagne Wayne's ever had.

Instead, Eddie fawns and sighs and does everything he can to make Steve happy. Dotes and compliments and builds him up until Steve is red and spluttering and beaming.

Eddie is a good boy. Wayne raised a good boy, who loves fiercely and wholly, but somehow didn't think he was worth the same trouble.

And. Well. That just wouldn't do.

-

Wayne wants time to come up with some kind of a plan, but fate was a sporadic fucking asshole and chose for him. Which is how Wayne finds himself answering the phone on a Thursday to hear Steve's voice on the other line.

"Mr. Munson?"

"Steve. Eddie ain't home. He's at band practice."

"Oh," Steve says. "Right, uh. Can you tell him that I called?"

Wayne thinks a moment. "I can," he says, slowly. "But first, I'd like to talk to you."

A long pause. He can practically hear Steve sweating on the other line. "Me?"

"You," says Wayne. "S'only that you've been here an awful lot lately. Eddie's taken a real shine to you. You know that?"

"He's one of my closest friends, Mr. Munson."

"Mmmhm. An' I'm glad for him. But I don't mean like that."

He hears Steve suck in a breath on the other end. "Oh."

"Not that it's any of my business, an' maybe these old eyes are seein' things, but I catch you lookin' from time to time. Then again, I'm just an' old man-"

"You're not that old," Steve says. "And. Your eyes work great. Probably better than mine."

Good first step. Buttering up the parents.

"So. Just so we're on the same page, Mr. Munson. Eddie told me that you know about him. That he likes. Um. Yunno."

"Men."

"Yeah," says Steve, relieved. "Yeah, men, right. And so I was thinking the other day that I'm a man!"

"So you are," says Wayne.

"And it came to my attention a few months ago that people can like both. Which is- which is crazy. But I guess it's not so crazy. I used to work in an ice cream store and people would order the weirdest combos. Like... strawberry and pistachio? And I'd say, you can't like both! But then Robin told me I could."

"Steve."

"Right. So anyway. I've been spending all this time with Eddie. But I wasn't really sure. I mean, he can like men. But that doesn't mean he'd like my type of man. That I am. Man-wise."

Wayne hums. "And if I told you he did like your type of man? Man wise?"

"I'd probably ask if he liked Italian or Chinese, sir."

Outside Wayne can hear Eddie's van rolling back down the street. "He likes lo mein. No onions."

"Okay," breathes Steve.

"And even if he looks like an angry alley cat, the boy likes romance. You hear me, son? Candles, flowers, showin' up at windows."

"I can do that," says Steve. "I'm great at romance."

Eddie's car rolls into the driveway and Wayne looks out the window, waving to Eddie as he cuts the engine and the music and steps out. His boy stops to carefully step over the flowers first, waving back.

His good boy, who pours love out until he's empty and never complains. He deserves to have it poured back.

"You're welcome anytime, Steve," says Wayne earnestly. "Anyone who makes my boy as happy as he is- you're welcome anytime."

Eddie walks in as Wayne hangs up. "Who was that?"

Wayne tugs him into a hug. "No one," he says. And then, "go shower. You smell like Gareth's garage."

"Like a goddamn rockstar, you mean?" Eddie ducks away from a swat and laughs, running down the hall.

Like a kid in love, Wayne thinks, and turns on the game.

-

With ao3 being down (pour one out, I'm donating my life savings once they're back up) I got feral enough to write a one shot on here. I can't update my other Wayne Matchmaker fic. So. Yunno. This will have to do for now.

Does this need a part 2? You tell me.

LONGER, EDITED VERSION NOW ON AO3!

(IF I POST A PART 2 IT WILL BE THERE :D)

[exeggcute]

I may have just solved a mystery that's been bugging me for a while: so the context here is that I've seen an extremely common complaint in extremely online comments sections lately that spotify "doesn't have true shuffle," and that if you put a playlist on shuffle it'll just keep playing the same songs over and over. which has not been my experience at all, even though the main way I use spotify is adding all the songs I like to one giant playlist that I've been maintaining since 2012 (because back in the day, that's just how spotify worked; if you saved a song it went into a giant playlist called "Starred") and then listening to that on shuffle. every so often I go through and cull it but right now it's about 2200 songs, and when I listen to it I've never felt like it wasn't a sufficiently random shuffle.

it's also pretty easy to disprove the "shuffle isn't playing every song" claim if you shuffle a playlist with like, 30 or 40 songs on it, because it'll queue up the songs in a random order, play all of them, and after spotify gets to the end it'll be like "okay! show's over. no more music." (unless you have autoplay shit turned on but I do not)

then just now a whim I decided to listen to my Big Fucking Playlist with Smart Shuffle turned on, which according to the mobile app's flavor text is a mode that lets you "shuffle and get recommendations in your queue, refreshed daily." so ostensibly just normal shuffle with extra suggestions mixed in....

except suddenly 90% of the songs that popped up in my queue were david bowie tracks. like legitimately 90%, including both the recommendations (which are clearly marked by a little sparkle icon) and songs pulled from the playlist itself. I think what's happening is that spotify knows bowie is the most frequent artist to appear in my Big Fucking Playlist and is using that to weigh its song choices accordingly, but the actual ratio is nowhere near 90%: out of 2209 songs, 235 are bowie tracks. that's only ("only") 10% out of the total! and when I'm using regular shuffle I would say that it does feel like he's popping up once for every ten songs that play, which is about as often as you'd expect.

like, look at this shit. here's the artist selection for a few sequential songs when I use regular shuffle:

phil manzanera, wham!, the pointer sisters, sparks, ryuichi sakamoto, david bowie, sparks, franz ferdinand, david bowie, blur, japan, talking heads

and here's the artist selection for a few sequential songs when I use smart shuffle, in the exact same playlist (the "recommendations" are marked with an asterisk):

david bowie, david bowie, david bowie*, david bowie, david bowie, talking heads*, david bowie, david bowie, the smiths*, david bowie

shuffle isn't broken! but smart shuffle sure fucking is!!!

[veenus777]

◜Dadbur Headcanons◞

┊ ᝰ﹕Fluff, SFW, mention of divorce

┊ ᝰ﹕Part Two of Dadbur, send me suggestions and asks for the next ones <3

♧ ok, imagine a mini wilbur with curly hair and a snub nose, well that's your son.

♤ At first Will would be absolutely terrified, he didn't have the best parents in the world so he was afraid of being the same for his son.

♧ This man tries so hard! he didn't want to fall into that stereotype where only mothers really take care of their children, so he'll be there to change their diapers and give them bottles, waking up in the middle of the night to get them back to sleep. He knows how stressful and tiring this is for you, so he does everything in his power to make it easier.

♤ Lullabies but not children's ones, he would play Bowie like Starman and Space Oddity, Beutiful boy would definitely be in the repertoire and he would change the gender if it was a girl.

♧ He would spoil his son a lot, with clothes and toys, and he often buys things that are definitely not for his son's age but always ends up saying "he will use them in the future".

♤ He wouldn't post photos of his child, just one or two that don't show his face, he doesn't like this type of exposure on the Internet, especially with his son.

♧ When the child grew up and had some kind of interest in appearing, he would agree, but nothing excessive, just a few appearances on streams or things like that.

♤ As soon as he reaches a certain age, Will would like him to be at his shows even if it's with ear protection headphones.

♧ If he won a prize he would promptly dedicate it to you and your son.

♤ Possibly the baby would appear in some Lovejoy music videos (when he was old enough).

♧ Would you create a family day that happens every week, where you both take time off from work just to spend time with your child outdoors having picnics, trips to the beach, going to amusement parks and things like that.

♤ You would also have a game night, with a good pizza and board games or video games, sometimes you also invite your friends to participate.

♧ Another family tradition is to always have dinner together and talk about your day and plans for the next one, you also like to cook dinner together it's always a lot of fun.

♤ You also always travel on vacation to different countries, you want your child to get to know different cultures and experiences.

♧ Trips to Disney with Uncle Tommy are definitely your child's favorite.

♤ Once a week Phil and Krist babysit for a romantic parental date.

♧ Will would definitely cry on the first day of school, I see this man coming home and checking his watch every 5 minutes to see what time he will have his son back.

♤ As a first-time father he would also despair at any slightest sign that his child is falling ill.

♧ I can easily see Will, Tommy and Charlie dressed up like princesses and made up for tea time, and they would absolutely love that.

♤ He goes to put the baby to sleep and ends up sleeping in his place>>>>

♧ I think during pregnancy with his first child he would be extremely nervous but after that he would definitely want more children.

♤ I think he would like two or three, nothing too big but not small.

♧ He would be in favor of positive and non-aggressive parenting with his children, he would also be a great supporter of all of his children's choices.

♤ He would also be in favor of teaching his children to be independent with things like handling money, knowing how to cook, having responsibilities and things like that.

♧ When he was on tour with Lovejoy I feel like they would have two options, the first is that if your children are young and not studying yet he would try to convince you to go along with him, but if the children are not so young anymore he you would just feel really bad about leaving them and wonder if you are being a bad father.

♤ In the second option he would make a point of calling all the time, at least two calls a day, he would also buy gifts and things from every country or city he visited, collectibles like postcards or key chains.

♧ He would have lots of photos of his children, some funny ones with just them sleeping, and his lock screen would be a photo of his loved one next to his children.

♤ Even if you separated he would be a good father, he would try to solve all your problems so that it doesn't affect the children and they have a good co-parenting.

.˚｡  💋 .˚｡ 💌

[ravenhatesu]

PJO MUSIC HEADCANNONS??

I fear I haven't read all of the books yet (I'm on the 1st book of toa!) BUT I love thinking abt what everyone would listen to (if they could have spotify and stuff)

These may be very niche but I highly suggest listening to all these songs because they're all really good!

Percy

Indie pop

Like this man probably listens to Wallows and that's a hill I'll die on

But also I feel like he'd love a good song by Plain White-T's, or hozier

BUT EVERYONE HAS THEIR ROOTS. And his, my friend, was definitely country, definitely Sally's influence. Zach Bryan and Luke combs (beautiful crazy, specifically) are definitely on his playlists

He doesn't listen to country a lot anymore, but when he's homesick and missing home he'll put some on

Probably has one of those portable CD players or those old Apple music players (are those allowed??? Rick isn't specific about what technology they can use)

Annabeth

Honestly? I don't feel like she listens to music super often, but I could see her listening to classic rock.

David bowie, The Rolling Stones, ToTo, Fleetwood Mac. Stuff like that

Definitely listens to Music to study

Definitely has a vinyl player as well as a collection (post The last Olympian)

LEO

Everything 2000s party music. From Kesha, to eminem, to Miley Cyrus.

Fergie. He definitely listens to Fergie.

Strong believer in Leo listening to Justin Bieber. He's not a belieber by any means, but if you play "Baby" he's definitely singing along

PITBULL. LEO LOVES PITBULL.

Probably listens to 90s rap too, like Tupac, Ice cube, ect.

Unironically listens to the song "Birthday Sex"

Nico

Also, I don't think he'd listen to midwest emo but I think "Fine, Great" Fits him well in a few different ships (Valgrace. LITERALLY VALGRACE.)

Made his own makeshift mp3 player

This one is kinda obvious but he's my FAVOIRTE to think about for these kinds of headcannons.

Slipknot, skillet, Evanescence, ALL OF ITTT

Anything from classic rock to screamo really.

But when he first started adjusting to modern life? The new music was a whiplash.

That's all I have for now

At the same time, anything that's an Italian classic will make Nico nostalgic

Vinyl, mainly because he already knew how to use jt

Lmk if you want more tho!

[bbieangel]

”𝐴𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛”

No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first time ever publishing something I wrote in english. Please be kind! English isn't my first language so I can't guarantee you won't find mistakes! Also this was inspired by the scene in Labyrinth where David Bowie sings "As the world falls down" to Sarah. The protagonist and Joel are wearing very similar outfits as the ones they used in the movie. I hope y'all like it and if you have any suggestions, let me know!

Summary: Your friends convince you to go out to a masquerade ball and, while you wander by yourself, you encounter a mysterious man; Joel Miller.

Word count: 9k (kinda long ik)

Tags: Joel is a gentleman, pinning against a wall, reader doesn't really like going out because of a previous situation, kisses, fluff, no angst or smut, lots of compliments and cute pet names.

There's no smut on this one, just trying out for fun and see what I'm more comfortable with:)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was the perfect summer night.

"C'mon! You never go out with us!" Chelsea had told you and.. she was right.

You couldn't deny it. You weren't really the type to go out. Not after that particular night.

But the way your friends insisted made your heart go softer and you finally gave in, gaining a round of cheers from them. The situation sparked a little bit of hope inside of your chest. And that spark quickly turned into a fire.

So.. you had said yes, actually excited to go out for the first time in a long while. You couldn't stop thinking about what you would wear: what do people wear to a masquerade ball anyways?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As the evening of that day came, you were deep inside of your closet, looking for something to wear. Until.. you saw it.

That dress. The one you had never worn before because you kept telling yourself that the occasion wasn't 'special enough'

But it was perfect for this night. The gown is predominantly white, with a bit of shimmering silver that catches the light just right, adding an ethereal look to it. It has beading and sprakling embellishments that made you look straight out of a fairy tale.

You sighed as you saw yourself in the mirror. Was it too much? You asked yourself. But the excitement and adrenaline rushing through your veins was enough to pull those thoughts away from you. It fit your body deliciously, your curves looked amazing in it. It was like it had been made for you. And you knew it when you saw it at the thrift store, wondering how someone could let go of such a jewel.

You put your hair up in a tight bun, a few curls coming down your face and adorning it.

And the mask, of course. A white mask, simple as that. It was a perfect match for the dress.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As soon as you saw the place you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp. It had been so well decorated, the ambiance and the music making goosebumps go through your body. Your girlfriends were enamoured by the way you looked.

"Like a porcelain doll." One had said.

"Straight out of a painting." Another one of them complimented you. You weren't sure of how to thank them enough for hyping you up that way. Your cheeks turned red as well as the tip of your nose did, making all of them laugh as they found it really adorable.

When you walked through the door you could see people staring at you, which was no surprise as you wore a magnificent dress that complimented your figure. But it wasn't really helpful as your mind had been playing tricks against you, reminding you of uneventful nights that looked a little too much like this one. Making your stomach twirl, you weren't able to have more than a drink. Anxiety always creeping behind your back, making sure to have you walking on eggshells.

But as time passed and you laughed and danced, your body and brain relaxed as you decided to actually enjoy the night. To enjoy how gorgeous you felt.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You decided that it was time to catch a break, so you told your friends and off you went into the bathroom. Obviously, you had a hard time pulling the dress to do your business but the task was completed, and you got out of the tiny room with a wide smile on your face, mask still on.

A pair of eyes caught yours. It was a man; broad shoulders, wearing a white, ruffled shirt that made his biceps stand out. Black pants that complimented his legs and had you glaring at his crouch a few times. His hair was slicked back, curls almost coming in contact with his shoulders at the base of his neck. Some gray hairs standing out. His beard and moustache were the same, and his prominent nose had you staring at him up and down.

The best part was his coat: a dark blue tailcoat adorned with some embroidery and metallic accents, something you wouldn't see often.

But his eyes.. his brown, amber eyes. It reminded you of the coffee you always took every morning, the one you couldn't live with. And from that moment, you knew you didn't want to live without his eyes either.

You were paralyzed, almost against your will. He was looking at you, too, taking in your body, your dress, your hair.. your slightly parted lips.

He smiled slightly, gesturing with a hand to follow him.

You tried to follow after him as he nodded at you. But there was too many people qnd suddenly, you were trapped in between of the crowd, all of the couples dancing together, each in their own little bubble. A sigh came out of your throat, frustrated that you had lost him. You looked around trying to find him to no avail.

When you were about to leave and look somewhere else you felt a pair of hands softly land on your shoulder, making you turn around.

It was him.

"You lost me for a minute, darlin'." He whispered close to your ear and gave you a grin. His southern accent wasn't something you were willing to ignore.

"I did, yeah.. There's a lot of people here." You managed to answer and swallowed hard.

Suddenly, the music changed into a more romantic and slow one, making you snap out of that state of pure amusement you found yourself in.

"As The World Falls Down" by David Bowie could be heard in the background.

Oh, how you loved that song.

As a little girl you couldn't keep your eyes away from the man in the television playing "the goblin king", or turn away your attention from his thick british accent, or his honey dripping voice. You always fantasized about meeting a man like that, who would give you everything. But inside you knew that it was just a silly teenage dream that wasn't going to happen.

The mysterious man grabbed your hand, taking you somewhere less crowded and gently placed his hands around your waist.

"Will you dance with me?" He asked, his voice a deep tone.

"Y-Yeah.." You mumbled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Your bodies swayed softly, your dress moving with grace as you tried to calm down your nerves and enjoy what was happening. He was wearing a blue cape around his shoulders and you couldn't help but brush your fingers softly against the velvety fabric.

"What's your name?" He asked, his grip on your waist was so gentle it made your heart flutter.

You told him your name and he repeated it. It sounded like the most precious name when it came out of his mouth.

"That's a beautiful name.." He mumbled and looked away, shyness seemed to have taken over him.

You chuckled and placed a hand on his cheek, the feel of his beard made your hand tingle.

"What's yours?" You asked in a sweet tone of voice.

"Joel."

Joel. It fitted him perfectly.

His eyes sparkled as the lights were illuminating them, making your knees feel weak when you looked into them.

He pulled you closer, breaths almost mixing. He smiled at the way your breath hitched.

"Come outside with me for a moment, yeah?" He asked and you nodded, taking his hand and going into the beautiful garden.

"Can I see you without your mask?" You asked, eager to see what he hid behind it.

"I don't mind takin' it off, sweetheart." He said and took it off with a smile. Your eyes widened and your pupils dilated at the sight.

He was even more handsome that you had imagined, wrinkles forming at the sides of his eyes when he smiled at you.

You took off your mask as well, feeling that it wasn't fair that only one of you had to take it off.

He approached you slowly, not making any sudden movement or touching you as he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"You are.. breathtaking, honey. Like a princess, straight out of a fairytale I might say." He whispered and gave you a wink, his knuckles softly brushing against your cheek. You could sense the heat going up to your neck and the apples of your cheeks, and he let out a soft chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Well.. I have to say the same about you, I–" Your words cut you short, as they weren't enough to describe him.

"You're so.. so handsome.. And captivating." You mumbled, trying to keep your composure and not give away the heat forming at your lower stomach of the way that your knees weakened.

Then your phone buzzed, startling you. It was one of your friends, wondering where you had gone to. When you explained breafly the situation in a short text, she smiled and told you to let her know if you felt uncomfortable or unsafe.

As you looked back at him, you noticed he had come closer. You gulped, your breathing shaking softly as you couldn't help but take a look at his plush lips.

You weren't much of a 'love at first sight' believer but faith had proven you different this time. You wanted to keep him in your life, even if that meant embarrassing yourself and asking for his phone number.

He approached you slowly, pinning you against the wall behind you. He placed a hand at the side of your head, on the wall behind you and tilted his own head a little, glaring at your lips occasionally.

Leaning closer, and closer, it felt torturous. You wanted him to kiss you right then and there, to stop taking his sweet time but you wouldn't ask for it.

He lifted your chin to look at him as he took in the way you looked, so flustered, cheeks tinted pink.

"Can I..?"

"Yes." You cut him off.

He chuckled and softly pressed his lips against yours, a gentle and tender kiss. You slowly brought your hands up to the back of his neck, playing with his curls in a gentle way as you kept with the pace of his kiss. But when he licked your bottom lip asking for permission, you parted your lips open and he started exploring your mouth.

You hummed at the feeling, bringing him closer and pressing your bodies together. Still, he was a gentleman, as he wasn't touching you anywhere you didn't want him to.

His hand went up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing it ever so softly which made you feel like you were melting under his touch.

He pulled away and you breathed out in hot pants, feeling your stomach twirling and heat building up in your chest just because from that kiss.

When he looked at you, you couldn't help but look away for a minute. He tilted your chin to look back at him, which made your breath hitch.

With a low chuckle, he asked:

"What? Feeling shy now that I don't have my mask?"

You could your body tingle at the way his voice sounded. Deep enough to cause a warming sensation to your core.

As you tried to answer him, nothing but incoherent sentences and mumbling came out of your mouth, making yourself even more flustered.

He took that as a chance to lean in and place a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes widened at the soft, gentle touch of his plush lips against your skin. His moustache tickling your upper lip.

"You are.. a tease."

You whispered and turned your head to peak his lips.

"Well.. can't help myself when I see such beauty in front of me, darlin'."

He winked at you and you could swear your knees were going to give up on you at any moment.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After letting your girlfriends know you were okay, you spent the rest of the night chatting with Joel. A deep connection was between the two of you, and you weren't the only one who noticed it; the way he sometimes couldn't keep up his flirty, tough man façade gave away the fact that he felt just like you. His eyes sparkling, the summer breeze brushing his hair with grace.

"I don't want this to end."

He suddenly confessed, taking your hand between his.

"I mean– I don't want this to be a one time thing. But if ya do, I won't be mad."

He spoke quietly, being the gentleman he was.

You shook your head slightly and a smile tugged at your lips.

"I don't want this to end either, Joel.."

You gave him a soft smile.

After spending some more time together, he pulled out his phone and handed it to you, where you made a contact with your number.

"I hope that date you've been talking about really happens."

You said, before saying your goodbyes.

"You have my word."

He spoke and your smile became wider, as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Joel."

You whispered with a smile and gave his hand a soft caress before turning to walk away, and enter the party again. It was like you were stuck together by glue, a strong force that begged you not to leave. If you could, you would've spent the rest of the night with him. But it was a night with your friends after all.

"Bye, sweetheart."

He mumbled before letting you go. A sense of sadness dawned on him, pressuring on his chest. His own friends quickly came after him and he smiled like nothing had happened, like something inside of him wasn't longing to be with you again. But he had to be patient, he knew that.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Back home as you laid comfortably in bed after taking off your makeup and dress, a ding was heard, coming from your phone.

You grabbed it and immediately knew who it was, even if you didn't have his number saved.

"Hey, darlin'. You awake?"

The text read. And you couldn't help but let out a squeal into your pillow, the biggest smile adorning your face beautifully.

"So, when's that date you were talking about?"

[navstuffs]

headcanons of leon adopting a dog (gn!reader)

warning: none, pure fluff, leon with dogs

Leon never shared your interest in adopting a dog. Despite every dog you met gravitating towards him, having a dog wasn't on his wish list. Due to his job, he didn't want to leave all responsibility in your hands.

So when your sister begs you to take care of Bowie, her brown labrador, you think it won't be a problem. Leon is away on a mission, you work from home and have been feeling pretty lonely. Besides, it is an emergency, and your sister will return soon. You just have to make sure there was no evidence of a dog in the house before Leon comes home. Which could take days, weeks, or months.

So you will be fine.

When your sister asks for a few extra days, you get a little nervous, thinking you might take the dog to a hotel. Bowie seems comfortable around the house like he belongs there, so you delay it.

When Leon finally comes home, exhausted, the only thing on his mind is relaxing in your arms after a shower, he hears taps on the floor in his direction and sees Bowie looking directly at him, his tail wagging excitedly.

Leon doesn't say anything, staring down at Bowie. Wasn't that your dog's sister? What is he doing there? 

Bowie slowly approaches him, sniffing his pants and looking up with cute brown eyes. Leon knows anyone would have fallen immediately, but he doesn't, calling your name.

You run downstairs, watching Bowie tangle on Leon's legs. Your boyfriend looks astonished, and you have to muffle a laugh. 

"I am sorry, I am sorry! My sister needed someone to take care of Bowie, and I offered. I thought he would be gone now, but she needed a few extra days."

Leon notices you are nervous, rubbing your hands together, anxiously awaiting his answer. Leon sighs, letting his bag on the floor, Bowie sniffling it. He walks toward you, pulling you into a hug.

"It is alright, sweetheart. I am not mad. It was an emergency. All good."

You let out a deep breath, hugging him back tightly. You were so relieved he was back in your arms and not angry. You two feel Bowie trying to join in on the hug.

You do your best to keep Bowie out of Leon's way the next few days, but the dog is obviously drawn to him. If Leon gets up, Bowie follows. After returning from your usual walks with him, Bowie immediately returns to Leon. You try to lure Bowie with treats, but after he eats them, he returns to Leon again. 

(some part of you is getting jealous since you have been taking care of Bowie for quite some time and he chooses Leon like this. but can you blame them?)

One day, you have to run some errands. You tell Leon you can leave Bowie in the crate so he doesn't disturb him, but Leon says it is all good. 

You try to finish as fast as you can. Before you go home, you get a pizza, drinks, and special doggie treats from Bowie. You don't hear Bowie taps to welcome you when you arrive home. After dropping everything on the kitchen counter, you call Leon.

You find both of them napping on the sofa, Bowie lying on top of Leon, his head comfortably on his chest. They look peaceful, Leon's features calm as his hand holds Bowie.

You don't know who you are more jealous of if Leon or Bowie, almost melting with how freaking cute they look. Leon looks so peaceful as well. You get your phone to take a few pictures before leaving them both to sleep.

After that, Bowie gets even more attached to Leon and vice-versa. Leon starts to join you and Bowie in walks, takes him on morning runs, and even suggests taking Bowie to a dog park. Leon feeds him, gives him baths, and suggests Bowie might need a toy.

If Leon is lying down on the sofa, Bowie always jumps on top of him. Leon would stroke Bowie's head and body until they both fell asleep.

The day Leon goes grocery shopping, he finds a toy for Bowie. Not a squeaky annoying one, but one he could throw for him.

When Leon returns home, he looks for Bowie. He finds you on your laptop in the living room. When Leon asks you where Bowie is, you scratch your head telling him anxiously your sister picked him up earlier. 

"I am sorry you couldn't say goodbye. She was in a rush."

Leon doesn't reply, simply nodding and taking groceries to the kitchen. He doesn't speak much for the rest of the day, looking like the past depressed Leon.

One month pass until Leon has to leave for a mission again. You are sad to see him go, not knowing when you will see him again. At least you have enough time to prepare a surprise for him.

When Leon returns, he is surprised to hear the taps against the floor.

A mixed-breed puppy comes running to check on him. You follow close behind, watching Leon hold the puppy in his arms.

"His name is Prince. He is here temporarily if we don't want to stay with him."

"He stays." 

"He stays then."

[moonbear-from-space]

Make sure to listen these songs first before you pick!

Now of course we have no idea what songs they will pick, ether one of the songs will be chosen for the movie, maybe a few more or none of these songs will pick at all this is all. Besides this is all made for fun to get everyone excited for the third movie. So please don't take this too seriously okay. ^^;;

However there are definitely gonna make a original song just like the previous 2 and I would be very surprised if they don't do that.

Anyhoo happy voting folks! :D

[holographings]

Hi hi! happy pride month!

This year I wanted to do something for june, so I've decided to do small illustrations for some of my favourite movies/shows centering around or involving lgbt themes/characters, along with a short list of more movie recommendations.

I've separated everything into categories, each with a few movies that i think are worth watching. Apart from the main movie/show, I'm leaving a tiny review/some alternative suggestions under the cut that fall under a similar category that someone might enjoy ^^

first category is BRIGHT & FLASHY;

+VELVET GOLDMINE (Dir. Todd Haynes, 1998. 123 minutes)

If you, like me, spent your highschool years daydreaming about being a glam rock star in the mid 70s and having a tumultuous relationship with your costar, then boy is this the movie for you. Velvet Goldmine follows a journalist searching for the truth behind a pop star's death hoax, and the stories each of his interviewees divulge to him. It's as much about self discovery as it is about the glam scene in britain (it's very very heavyhanded in the bowie/iggy pop references pretty much in its entirety, but u won't hear me complaining. this is NOT a biopic, in case you're already bored by the description. it's much more than that), and has a star studded cast that carry the movie. The costume design and visuals are Delightful, as is the soundtrack. Say hi to Pulp, Placebo, Brian Eno and a long list of other legends all featured.

+THE DOOM GENERATION (& other assorted Gregg Araki Films)

Gregg Araki has a very signature style to his movies, his films feels like a feature length MTV bumper. A lot of his movies center around similar themes, though in escalating intensity, so take your pick. If you ask me which ones to dive into first, I'd say The Doom Generation if you're swimming in your teenage angst, or The Living End if you're in your revenge era. Mysterious Skins is also a personal favorite, however it's on the heavier side and not as fitted to the "bright and flashy" category. Still an absolute must watch though.

[ken-dom]

The Stars Look Very Different Today

∘₊✧ Ryland Grace solo fic

2.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: The computer has a new command for Ryland — one he’s extremely relieved to carry out.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: I’m barely half way through the book and I’m so in love with Ryland already. My god. Anyway this obviously got me into researching some of the hornier aspects of space travel, potentially unlocked a new kink along the way, and this is where I ended up. If you’re as curious as I am about the topic of this fic, you might enjoy this Vice article and also this Mauden article!

Title from Space Oddity by David Bowie, suggested by the wonderful @heresthestorymorningglory who encouraged me endlessly with this fic, as always!

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, Project Hail Mary spoilers!, masturbation, if you squint it’s kinda Ryland x Computer — and it’s kinda forced masturbation but he definitely wants to do it so take it as you wish, premature ejaculation, written from Ryland’s POV in keeping with the novel, horny Ryland, mentions of porn, low key science kink, and my favourite tag ever: cumming in space! 🪐🛸💦

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

‘Ejaculate.’

The voice has become familiar to me over the last few days. Almost comforting at times, if not a little on the unsettling side. But hey, unsettling isn’t the worst thing a person can be, right? Or a computer, if we’re being technical. Which I suppose we should be.

I blink my eyes open, groggy from what I’m guessing was a relatively short period of sleep before I check the analogue clock on the wall to confirm it. I don’t think on it for too long, however, because my attention is pulled to the heat I can feel pooling in my gut, and the throbbing sensation in my… between my legs. It’s untimely, but expected.

I’ve found myself with this little problem upon waking up for the third time in a row, now. The previous times, I’ve ignored it, willed it away while trying to keep my mind on everything else I’m still adjusting to rather than wasting my time… enjoying myself a little too much. 

This time, though, it seems the ship knows and wants me to do something about it.

I obviously haven’t heard correctly. My inconveniently timed arousal must be playing on my mind. It has been a while since I… no, that’s irrelevant right now, I’m giving in but I need to focus.

Why would the computer instruct me to-

‘Ejaculate.’

There it is again, plain as day this time. Yup. The computer wants me to… ejaculate.

Despite being completely alone, lightyears away from another living human, I feel incredibly exposed all of a sudden.

I gradually sit up and look around the room, rubbing at my tired eyes, careful not to cause any friction that might exacerbate matters. One of the robot arms is waiting patiently at the other side of the small room, holding out a little plastic cup, which I presume I am supposed to deposit my offering into. And then, what? Give it back to put into safe storage? Or eject it out into space where it’ll crystallise and float forever as evidence of my deed, only for some alien to discover and analyse a hundred years from now and take back to his home planet with breaking news. ‘Sex seed found among the stars, Earth astronaut got too excited about space travel.’

Sex seed? Jeepers.

Maybe, more likely, they’ll keep it to repopulate in the event of this whole thing not working out, or-

Ok. Let me think this through a little more scientifically.

Why would I need to ejaculate right now? What’s different about this time to the previous times I’ve woken up with a raging erection straining against my uniform?

‘Ejaculate.’

‘Just give me a moment, please?’ I reply, irritable, and the computer does not answer. The robot arm remains, though, and I know I will be given no choice in this.

Is that ethical? 

Whatever. I don’t think I need to get caught up in the semantics of whether one can consent to a spacecraft computer asking for one’s semen, robot arms or not. And after all, in the words of the wise Beyoncé, I woke up like this.

So, back to the question. If it’s not for repopulation purposes, perhaps… ah! Of course! It’s for my own good! The computer is trying to make sure I stay healthy.

Masturbation has been proven to lower anxiety levels and stress. This is a high-pressure sort of situation after all. Maybe it thinks I need a little relaxation to be able to focus properly, or to keep my blood pressure levels well maintained?

That’s the stuff. I’m really getting the ball rolling now.

I remember a study I read, and realise that actually, the fact that it’s been a while is actually important here, too, and not just a distraction my body insists on.

Infrequent ejaculation can result in prostatitis, and the way to avoid the secretions and subsequent bacteria growth that cause the condition, is to ejaculate. Frequently.

The computer has either noticed my recent arousal levels; the higher heart rate, the dilated pupils, the change in blood flow to cause certain… swellings, and let’s face it, the scent of desperation I must be giving off after this long without an orgasm, and thinks I’m overdue an ejaculation or two… or, it’s programmed to encourage masturbation at set intervals with frequent ejaculation in mind as a necessary tool to health.

In honesty, I started to lose my erection when the first of all these thoughts occurred to me – nothing like a computer and a robot arm teaming up to persuade you to rub one out for them to kill the mood – but… mmh…

Listen, I know I can get a little… carried away with science, but I really am alone out here and I don’t think the computer is at all concerned with what gets me going. It just wants me to cum in a cup. I can do that. I think.

I retrieve the cup from the robot arm, which folds away, patiently waiting for me to return with the goods, no doubt.

‘Don’t look, okay?’ I say a little weakly, feeling my cheeks heat up. I know it’s a computer, but it knows things. Too much, almost, and I feel watched. I’ve never been into that, being watched. Nothing against it, but I much prefer to do this with my curtains closed and my doors locked, preferably in a darkened room, or the shower. Since I can’t be afforded these luxuries aboard the Hail Mary, the least I can ask for is the computer not to look.

It doesn’t answer me, of course. I didn’t really expect it to, but at least with whatever else it gathers about me, it’ll know I’m not enjoying it’s presence while I knock one out for it.

Who knows, maybe over time, we’ll get to know one another and the computer’s presence will be the only way I can jerk off. Maybe it’ll start talking me though it… would dirty talk be programmed incase of difficulty… getting into it?

I chuckle softly, knowing that liking the computer is a real possibility. Doll syndrome, it’s called. I’d start preferring the computer to a real living, breathing human. Or maybe there’s another syndrome specifically for the preference of a computer…

But I’m letting myself get distracted again.

Back to the matter at hand. Ha!

I sit back down on my bed, my erection pressed painfully against my uniform trousers now, as I consider the little plastic cup. By the look of it, it holds about 100mls. The average ejaculate is around 1.25-5mls, and from experience I tend to fall somewhere in the middle of that range, so it’s extremely unlikely I’ll fill it, but it really has been so long, the fleeting thought passes through my mind that it won’t be big enough.

Then my thoughts switch to how this is all so clinical and not at all sexy. I guess that’s another kink I might be missing out on, but before I can get carried away again, the robot arm drops something else down for me.

Oh. It’s a dirty magazine. The sort they keep on the top shelf, hidden behind more family friendly editions like House and Home or Celebrity Chat or whatever people read these days.

A pair of breasts almost knock me clean out as the magazine drops into view before me. The robot arm flicks through the thin, glossy pages and holds it open at a page of a woman with her legs spread, glistening folds displayed beautifully as if just for me.

But she’s not real. Looking at the image only reminds me that I’m alone, and whilst her aroused state and thoughts of how she might pleasure herself does make my cock twitch, my heart sinks a little that I’ll never feel another wet pussy.

‘No thank you,’ I choke out, slightly reluctant, and the robot arm switches to a magazine it was apparently holding behind the one with the pretty vagina photograph.

This one displays an image of a thick, handsome penis, uncut and leaking at the tip, fingers ghosting over the happy trail above…

‘No, that’s not the issue,’ I say, a little high pitched, because my cock is leaking now too, and I know I’m not going to make it to the cup if they keep showing me images like this.. ‘I just… I can manage on my own, thank you.’

Still, I feel a little disappointed when the robot arm takes that enticing cock away, too, and I’m left truly alone once again.

I let out a long breath, as even as I can muster. I need to get out of my head.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I focus on the ache between my legs. I think about taking my time, really enjoying the sensation of touching myself in space – and the thought that I’m actually in space, does it for me again. With an involuntary pulse of my cock, I feel a thick drop of pre-ejaculate form at the tip.

Take my time? Who am I kidding.

Clasping the cup securely in one hand, I slip the other over the crotch of my trousers and the strangled noise that escapes me would’ve been enough to wake the whole neighbourhood had I been back home on Earth.

I feel a rush of shame flood my senses, but then I remind myself that I can be as loud as I want here. In space, no one can hear you moan. I laugh again, feeling giddy. This is kind of exciting, actually. The thought that I’m alone is finally working for me, and without overthinking it any further, I tear open the fastening on my trousers and let my cock spring free.

I’m so hard it’s painful, visibly throbbing, angry red tip shining with pre-cum. Begging to be touched.

I realise as I stare down at my neglected equipment that words like cum and cock aren’t usually so easily thrown around in my vocabulary, and that I must be unusually horny – another word I tend to shy away from until the moment calls for it – to be thinking like this.

I bite my lips together, anticipating how it might feel.

I’ve never done this in space before. It must be ok to do it, otherwise the computer wouldn’t expect me to just get on with it, ‘reading’ material included, but what if it feels different? What if it hurts?

I tentatively raise a trembling hand and carefully drag a featherlight fingertip up the underside, base to tip, tracing a thick vein and collecting some pre-cum on the way.

I squirm, moaning loudly. I wonder if the computer has really shut its ears off, or if it’s simply programmed to know the difference between horny, desperate groaning and other types of sounds, like real pain or distress.

Whatever, I need more. Fuck.

I suck my finger clean and do it again. A gentle fingertip ghosting up the hot flesh and my body jolts upright.

I’m not gonna last more than a few seconds, and I know it.

It turns out that for whatever reason, touching yourself in space feels fucking incredible.

I lose track of most of my thoughts after that, feeling like I’ve transformed into some sort of rabid animal.

I slump backwards, spreading my legs, and my hand wraps around my shaft, immediately pumping furiously as a broken string of growls and roars rip from my throat.

I barely have time to remember the cup, but somewhere in the haze of unbridled bliss, my lizard brain must have kicked in at just the right moment because only instinct could have given me the sense to raise my other hand and position the cup to catch the insane amount of ejaculate I release as I writhe on the sheets.

Some of it dribbles down over my fingers, but it doesn’t matter, as long as I deposit some in the provided receptacle, I suppose, the computer will be satisfied.

It seems to drag on for a while, this release. Not that I’m complaining; it feels so good I wouldn’t be able to comprehend words enough to form an actual complaint at this moment, even if I wanted to. But as climaxes go, this one, long and intense and oh, so delicious, is up there with the best.

I shakily place the cup (around 7-10mls not including what I didn’t catch – that has to be some sort of record for me) onto the floor and roll over, curling into a ball, my softening cock twitching through aftershocks of pleasure as every muscle in my body relaxes me into another round of sleep.

I wake up five hours later, sprawled on my back with my cock out, still soft for now, and my hand sticky. It must have worked. I must have needed it.

Slowly, I sit up again, tucking my co- my penis back in. Making myself presentable. I am in uniform, after all. I reach up to smooth my hair down. It’s a mess, and there are loose strands stuck to my forehead. I’ll deal with that later.

I notice the cup of ejaculate has gone, collected by my trusty pal, the porno robot arm, and a little sink has been revealed from behind its wall panel.

The computer isn’t going to instruct me to clean myself up – it’s giving me that dignity at least, but it’s pointing me in the right direction. And it’s correct.

I stand on shaky legs to head over there, feeling a slight headrush.

Hopefully, the computer will never speak of it again-

‘Thirty-seven seconds.’

‘Until what?’ I ask, too relaxed to care very much, as I soap up my semen-coated palm.

‘Thirty-seven seconds to produce 7.8mls of semen.’

My cheeks burn. It timed me? And I couldn’t even last out a whole minute?

Did computers care about premature ejaculation as much as humans seem to? Is it even premature when you’re only trying to pleasure yourself?

‘Yeah, well, it’s been a while,’ I retort, sheepish but clearly irked. ‘A long while.’

No further comment from the computer. Great.

I know it’s time for me to get on with the thousand other things occupying my time on this ship, so I do. But the nagging thought I couldn’t shake as I observed the beetles told me that I had to prove the computer wrong about my stamina.

I can last.

And apparently, the thought of proving the computer wrong about my own masturbation habits was doing it for me and-

‘Mmhhnnn-’

That delicious friction against my sensitive cock in these pants was tormenting me. And I thought cock not penis so I must be horny again. Does space travel typically cause high levels of arousal?

Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.

‘Computer, you got another cup? You can watch this time. I’m gonna put on a real show for you.’