#five riffs

[colfy-wolfy]

Five Pebbles if he were cool ...

[jilllovesmike]

High five Mike 🙌🏻

[soona-kit]

I must confess... i love them all very dearly

[nandors-girlwife]

My sexuality?? Joey Ramone repeating "rock n roll high school?" When Riff tells him about the song

[arsenicpanda]

Code Geass Genesic Re;Code    ↳ 【Black Knights】 Shirley Fenette

[nemxricultrix]

(okay so like.o haven't seen much if aby of the new Fionna and Cake AT show, but I can already say I hope Fern has more presence because they have a really nice design in the show.

And before anyone says I'm spoiling, I literally have only seen a few screen caps, my broke bitch ass only just got his second paycheck from the new job so I don't have access to the show as a whole yet. Looks sweet though cuz it's Adventure Time and that show slapped all the way through)

[fionnaskyborn]

...Fuuuuck. I'm actually contemplating putting War Without Reason on my [REDACTED] playlist.

[chronomally]

im assigning a letter grade to all the film iterations of batman at 10:00PM EST sharp. this is a once in a lifetime event. please do not miss it

[ujuro]

The new everglow song is fine but super super basic but tbf it would be hard to beat a song that changed my life the way pirate did cause now whenever im watching something illegally I just hum to myself “girls all over the world 춤춰봐 tonight”

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

The Sweet - The Ballroom Blitz 1973

"The Ballroom Blitz" is a song by British glam rock band The Sweet, written by Nicky Chinn and Mike Chapman. The song reached number one in Canada, number two in the UK Singles Chart and the Australian Chart, and number five on the US Billboard Hot 100. It remains an enduring favourite, with more than 90 million streams on Spotify alone by the end of 2022. "The Ballroom Blitz" was inspired by an incident on 27 January 1973 when the band were performing at the Grand Hall in Kilmarnock, Scotland, and were driven offstage by a bottling. The song appeared on the US and Canadian versions of Desolation Boulevard but never appeared on a Sweet album in the UK, other than hits compilations. The initial guitar and drum riff of the song has similarity to a 1963 song by Bobby Comstock called "Let's Stomp".

An early cover of "The Ballroom Blitz" was by the Les Humphries Singers in 1974, the first German single to reach #1 in New Zealand. The Damned covered it in 1979, which featured Lemmy from Motörhead on bass guitar, and Tia Carrere did a cover on the soundtrack to Wayne's World in 1992. In 2020, industrial metal band 3Teeth released Guns Akimbo, a two-track set that included a cover version of "The Ballroom Blitz", which was previously featured in the 2019 action comedy film Guns Akimbo.

"The Ballroom Blitz" received a total of 84,2% yes votes!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Coming home to you

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 2

Prompts: Soft and slow & Clothes on

Words: 1,339

Rated: E

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Established relationship; Kindergarten teacher Steve; Domestic fluff; Fluff and smut; Soft dom Eddie; sub Steve; Groping; Dry humping; coming in pants

Eddie is halfway through composing an absolutely sick riff when the front door slams shut. The sound rattles the walls of the apartment and sends one of their framed photos askew. Eddie blinks, pulling off his headphones and taking a few moments to get his bearings. It’s starting to turn dark outside and his stomach is rumbling. Shit, for how long was he out? 

“Stevie? You home?” he calls, but the apartment stays quiet, bar for the creak of the bedroom door and the thud of a body hitting the mattress. Eddie frowns, setting the guitar aside and padding across the hallway. 

A look into their bedroom reveals Steve, spread out on the bed like a starfish. His shoes are lying by the foot end, but that’s as far as he’s managed to undress before collapsing face-down into the sheets. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, sinking down onto the bed and laying a comforting hand on his ankle. “Rough day?” 

“wha dof ip loolie?” Steve says into the mattress. 

Eddie doesn’t rise to the bait, just laughs lightly and crawls further onto the bed, hand migrating from Steve’s ankle up to the small of his back. “Wanna talk about it?” 

Steve’s back rises and falls under the weight of his enormous sigh, but he does turn his head to unstick his face from the pillows. 

“Josh and Christopher got into another fistfight at lunch. Ever tried prying two five-year-olds out of a fistfight? They're at perfect level with your crotch.” 

“Ouch,” Eddie winces, fingers creeping under the hem of Steve’s polo to caress the dip of his spine, just over the waistband of his jeans. 

Steve huffs. “Yeah, ouch. I had to call their parents about it, and you know how Josh's mom is, her son's a perfect little angel in her eyes. And while she was busy yelling at me, the rest of the group got into the finger paint, so guess who's been cleaning the classroom all afternoon.” 

His eyes are large and round and miserable as he looks up. There's a big smudge of pink paint just below his hairline, and Eddie feels something unbearably fond flutter in his chest. 

“I dunno,” Steve shrugs. It turns into a weird, twitchy kind of movement, what with the way he’s still very much embedded in the mattress. “Sometimes I think this isn’t the job for me after all.”

“Aw, baby,” Eddie coos. He shifts so that he’s lying next to Steve, gently coaxing him to turn to his side, so that they are facing each other. “You were made for this job. The kids love you, and what’s some bitchy moms if you’ve fought an interdimensional war?” 

Steve huffs a dry laugh, fingers linking at the base of Eddie’s neck. “Are you suggesting I bring the nail bat to my next Meet the Teacher day?”

“That would be so fucking sexy,” Eddie murmurs, and lets himself be pulled in. 

It starts out innocently enough. A soft press of lips against lips, the gentle tickle of hands running through hair, that beautifully warm feeling blooming in his chest as Steve melts into his touch. Steve sighs against his mouth, low and content, and Eddie nips lightly at his bottom lip, asking for entrance. For a while, they lose themselves in the lazy glide of spit and tongues, legs tangling in the sheets, hands roaming over the familiar curves of shoulders and chests and hips. It's only when Eddie’s hands start fumbling for the fly of Steve’s pants that Steve makes a reluctant sound and breaks the kiss.

“What's wrong?” Eddie asks. “The headaches again?” 

“No,” Steve smiles at him, bashful and soft in the fuzzy light of the darkening room. “Just … fucking exhausted I guess. Sorry, I don't think I'll be up to it today. Can't even muster the energy to take off my clothes, leave alone-” 

“Oh?” Eddie says, cupping the very obvious bulge in Steve's pants and grinning at the startled gasp it gets him. “Don’t worry, baby. You won’t have to take off a thing.” 

Steve laughs, hoarse and breathy with arousal. “What are you on about, huh? There’s no way in hell you can get me off with my clothes o-oh.” 

He trails off into a low moan, forehead sagging against the crook of Eddie’s neck, long lashes tickling Eddie’s skin. 

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks around a chuckle. His one hand continues palming Steve through the fabric of his pants, feeling him grow hard under his touch, while the other splays against the small of his back, pulling him closer. “I bet I can. I bet it’s easy. You’re so responsive, baby, so eager for me to take you apart. Give me half an hour and I’ll have you coming in those pants.” 

“Fucking show-off,” Steve snorts, but his hips have started rolling in slow, rhythmic motions to meet Eddie’s touch. His lips tickle Eddie’s pulse. “Go on then. Prove it.” 

“Gladly, sweetheart,” Eddie says, letting his voice drop to that gravelly rumble that Steve likes. The one that always makes Steve go soft and pliant in his hands, trusting Eddie to do whatever he wants with him. And damn, if he isn’t the luckiest bastard in the world for it. “Your wish is my command, you know that.” 

He presses his lips to that magnificent head of hair, and Steve’s cock twitches in his hand. 

*

“Eddie.” 

Eddie chuckles, teeth grazing the shell of Steve’s ear. He always loves it when Steve says his name, but especially like this. Like a plea. Like a prayer. 

“Hm, baby? What do you need?” 

“Please,” Steve babbles, then swallows and licks his lips, remembering he’s supposed to use his words. “Please, I need to come.” 

“Aw, honey,” Eddie laughs, caressing the curve of Steve’s ass. They’re still lying on their sides, Eddie’s leg wedged firmly between Steve’s thighs, Steve panting into the crook of his neck. His cock is rock-hard in the tight confines of his jeans. Hard just from humping Eddie’s leg, just from Eddie whispering sweet filth in his ear, Eddie’s hands and lips teasing him in all those places he likes to be teased. “But your half hour isn’t even close to over.” 

Steve moans, desperate and broken, and it’s the most delicious sound in the world. When he rocks his hips to grind himself against Eddie’s leg, Eddie cups his ass to pull him flush against him, and the moan turns into a sob. 

“Fuck it, I can’t- … Please, Eddie, I’m so close, I need to- Please, please, please let me come.”

Did Eddie mention he’s the luckiest motherfucker in the whole goddamn world? 

“Of course you may come, Stevie,” he says, brushing back a sweaty strand of chestnut hair and kissing Steve’s temple. “Go ahead.” 

Steve does before he even finishes the sentence, shattering apart with a hoarse scream, and Eddie takes him by the jaw to guide him into a long, languid kiss, licking the sound right out of his mouth. He continues to kiss him while Steve trembles through the aftershocks, only pulling him against his chest when he finally collapses in a boneless heap. 

“Feeling better now?” 

“So much better,” Steve slurs. His smile is bright and off-kilter as he leans up for a peck on the lips. “There’s only one small problem.” 

“Oh? What’s that?” Eddie yawns, stretching his arms above his head and making himself comfortable in the pillows. 

Steve shifts, the movement warm and sticky against Eddie’s leg. 

“Well, I definitely need to shower now,” he declares. “But I’m still so fucking tired. I’ll be lucky if I even manage to undress, leave alone clean myself up.” 

Eddie stares at him. “What, seriously? Fifteen minutes ago, you were ready to fall asleep on me and now you want seconds?” 

“You got a problem with that?” Steve winks, tangling their hands together and pulling him off the bed and towards the bathroom. “I thought my wish was your command.” 

And well … Eddie can’t really argue with that, can he? 

More smutty September

[sadiestarrs]

Cherry Red

Warnings: swearing, mean ellie, mentions of sex

A/N: i got this idea from another fic umm. it is proofread, but criticism is always accepted!! this one lowkey hurt. also i made edits to this fic but tumblr decided to glitch and delete them all so if this is bad, my apologies 🙏😞

Plot: ellie is a guitarist and the most popular in her group, but the attention has become too much, especially for you

Word count: 1115

Standing in between hundreds of screaming girls was not where you imagined yourself five years ago, especially not when you got with Ellie. Back then, she was practising guitar, doing small gigs at cafés and jazz bars late into the night. You attended everyone, that’s how you met her. Your friends had invited you on a night out, and she immediately caught your eye, playing one of your favourite songs.

From that day on, you’d showed up every night you were free and soon started to get noticed. One thing led to another, going on a few dates, sharing mutual friends, watching them create a band, and finally seeing them achieve their goals, a sold-out stadium. But now was when it set in. You were never claustrophobic, but your position made you think otherwise.

Bodies swarmed around yours, the screaming increasing when Ellie started her solo. You weren’t mad at how many people liked her, not at all – even though you were technically her first fan.

Something wasn’t right about this concert, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You felt it in your core. A strange, sickening feeling.

Your vision tried to steady on Ellie, who was focused on each chord and strum of her guitar. The guitar you bought her. Despite being a broke college student, you still wanted to show Ellie that you cared and believed in her career, so you bought her the same cherry red guitar she held in her hands at that moment.

It was as if she loved the guitar more than you, funnily enough. It hung on the wall above your shared bed. She would dust it regularly, making sure that the strings were tuned, only using it during concerts. When she practised, it would be her older guitar, the same one she used the night you met her.

Now as you watched her kill the solo, like she did every time, you waited for the end, the moment when she would find you in the crowd during the last chord, almost dedicating the song to you. But it didn’t happen. Her eyes scanned for someone else. Her hand reached for another girl.

Up on stage was someone you had seen before, long jet-black hair, dark eyeliner, ripped jeans and a crop top. Her ex. She had brought her ex on stage. The band knew about you, how could they let this happen? How could they–how could she embarrass you like that?

Her ex takes the guitar and begins her own riff, something they had definitely planned behind your back. Questions rampaged through your mind. You were at almost every practice and rehearsal. Were they meeting up separately? You choke up, watching the scene unfold in front of you.

Ellie whispers something in her ear, holding her by the waist as she nods in response. The crowd goes wild, screaming and cheering. It was meant to be you on stage. She was meant to hold you. Her ex takes the neck of the guitar, turning it upside down and smashing it into the floor.

You lose count of the number of times they pass it between them, causing more damage than the last. A strong urge to empty your guts washes over you, pushing through the crowd, not caring who gets elbowed in the face.

The dressing room is filled with buzzing from outside, but it’s 100% better than watching your girlfriend smash a prized possession you bought her. Every answer your mind came up with wasn’t good enough. It didn’t make sense. Why? Why? Why?

Why would she do that to you? Your relationship had been strained for a few days after an argument over rehearsals. You barely spent time together any more, she was always out practising, even missing the dates you had planned.

This started a conversation about whether she cared about her career more than the relationship. You didn’t want to believe it but all your worries seemed to come true. Her added fame and success made things more difficult.

The time when she gave a group of VIP fans a tour backstage and bonded a bit too much with one of them sparked through your brain. It reminded you of what was happening on stage before you left. And now the show was over.

✦

Her bandmates come into the room before her, filling the space with awkwardness when they see you. None of them speak, going through the motions of drinking water, packing away instruments, and checking their phones without so much as an apology.

All of them knew about this but didn’t feel the need to tell you. You blamed them as much as you blamed Ellie. To think that you were the reason they were in that position now. If it wasn’t for you bringing them together, another band would be in their place.

“So no one wanted to tell me what Ellie was planning?”

Your question is met with even more silence, everyone looking awkwardly between themselves.

“We didn’t know—”

The door is pushed, followed by Ellie, now smiling with her ex directly behind her. She senses the tension in the air and motions for the others to leave. The three of you stand in silence for an eternity before Ellie finally says, “I can tell that you’re mad.”

Mad? That was the biggest understatement. Her ex doesn’t make eye contact, still standing behind her, hands folded across her chest.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

Maybe it was harsh, but there was no other way to convey your emotions. “Can I explain myself before we start throwing insults around? It was a prank. That wasn't the actual guitar.”

From a supply closet, she brings out the case and unzips it to reveal the guitar, still in perfect condition. No thought formed properly in your mind. Nothing made sense. It was a sick prank, something that made you physically ill.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Ellie?”

“This conversation won't go anywhere if you keep insulting her.” She had the audacity to speak to you. This was her fault, not just Ellie’s. What sane person would do something like that?

“This conversation is between me and my girlfriend. You know what? You two can have each other.” You push past them, slamming the door in the process.

Why was this happening? Did you piss off God? Were you paying for a mistake you made years ago? Whatever it was, it didn't make sense. What went through Ellie’s head to do that to you?

No one bothers going after you. Fortunately, you're able to grab a cab and go back to the hotel.

Where you were staying with Ellie.

[lipslikethegardensofbabylon]

Midnights is such a top tier album. The ‘meet me at midnight’, the absolutely hypnotic chorus of Maroon, the campy self hatred of Anti-Hero for eldest daughters everywhere, the track five opening and healing wounds, the SPICE in Vigilante Shit, the lil ass shaker to make the whole place shimmer, the calming melodic tune of Sweet Nothing, the gutting bridge in Mastermind, the vault tracks!! The storytelling of High Infidelity marking calendars forever, The Great War uh huh, the opening guitar riff in WCS. Literally start to finish it’s a masterpiece. I have no notes, 13/10.

[duffslut]

Best dad in the world

Slash x Reader

My Masterlist.

Word Count: 643

Warnings: Fluff!

You were helping Slash write a new song, he was gliding his fingers across his guitar, trying to play at a low volume while the kids were sleeping.

- That sounds good. - You said as your husband played a new riff.

- Yeah I think I can use that. - Slash said and jotted down some notes in his notebook.

You watched him silently so as not to disturb him, but the silence soon ended when the door opened and Cash and London ran into the room.

- Boys! - You exclaimed as the kids jumped into Slash's lap, who immediately placed his guitar on the floor next to him, directing his attention to his children.

- What? You guys slept for like five minutes? - Slash said laughing.

- I want to play, Dad! - London said, and Cash nodded frantically, sitting next to him.

- Me too. - Cash said raising his small hand to Slash.

You got up and went over to them, giving the kids a kiss on the forehead and a peck on Slash's lips, leaning in to his ear.

- Are you okay? - You asked just to make sure he didn't mind the boys in his studio room.

- We'll be fine, Mom. - He said, winking at you. - I have to teach these boys how to hold a guitar.

You smiled, touching Slash's curls in an affectionate gesture before leaving the room.

- I'll make you guys a snack. - You said and closed the door as you left, hearing the children's laughter as you walked towards the kitchen.

You found yourself thinking, as you cut into some bread, about how Slash was such a good dad to his kids, how he had gotten along with them from the moment they were born, they were obsessed with Slash too, and you still get surprised every now and then by how much they looked like their father.

As you assembled the mini sandwiches on a plate, you began to consider whether having another child with Slash would be a good idea, It wasn't the first time that idea had crossed your mind, and with each interaction Slash had with the children, whether it was playing, scolding, helping them eat, get dressed... your desire to get pregnant with him again increased.

- Yay! Mommy! - London and Cash shouted and ran to grab your legs when you entered the studio carrying their snacks and juice.

- Are my little boys hungry? - You asked, picking up Cash and ruffling London's hair before lightly squeezing his cheek.

You placed the snack on the small table in the center of the room and sat down next to Slash, unable to hide your bright and passionate gaze at him.

- What babe? - He asked, and you pressed your body closer to his, touching your thigh against his.

- I was thinking... - You started to say but were interrupted by London, touching your leg and calling you.

- Mom! Dad taught me how to play guitar! He said I can play in a band when I grow up a little bit! - He said excitedly, and you pretended to be shocked.

- No way, Daddy said that? - He nodded. - Then we have to buy you more instruments, right? - You said.

London nodded and then walked back to his brother's side, sitting on the floor eating his sandwich.

- I want to have a baby with you. - You said at once, looking straight into Slash's eyes, trying to decipher his reaction. - Another baby, I wanna get pregnant.

He looked surprised, and then incredibly happy, intertwining his hands in yours.

- Are you sure? - He asked, moving your hair and kissing your forehead.

- Absolutely certain. - You said. - You are the best dad in the world.

His hands touched your face, lightly cupping your cheeks, his cold rings touching your skin as you waited for his answer.

- Then I'll give you a baby. - He said, and then pressed his lips to yours.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesongfics.

If He Wanted To, He Would

July Prompt: Any Song Lyrics | Word Count: 2000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Eddie POV, Modern Setting, Sports AU, Rockstar Eddie, Baseball Player Steve, Very Public Love Affair, Corroded Coffin, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

I've used lyrics from Take Me Out to the Ball Game & Blank Space.

Even the news is covering it. 

That's fucking ridiculous. There's an animated graphic, a live tracker of where his plane is, a moving dot over the Atlantic, like it's Christmas Eve and he's Santa Claus.

Eddie's gonna make it. He was always gonna make it, even as the press ran the numbers, the miles, and milked every ounce of drama out of it.

He made game one, and game four, and now he's racing back from playing Wembley in London to make it for game seven. The media has tried to sell the idea that Steve wanted the World Series to go to seven, just so Eddie would be able to attend.

Eddie's glad he's getting to see it, of course he is, but if they could have swept it in four, or locked it down in five or six, that would have been fucking awesome. Even if that meant Eddie missed seeing it live, and had to watch on television, in the middle of the night, across the world.

There are a shitton of tiktoks every week, dissecting their every move, looking for easter eggs. Eddie is just living his life, even if a million people are always watching him like a fucking hawk.

Goodie is walking back from the beer garden in the stadium, carrying his plastic cup in his mouth as he fiddles with something in his hands. Not spilling a goddamn drop. Eddie can only see this because he's being broadcast onto the stadium jumbotron.

When he climbs the stairs into the suite, Eddie asks, "Where's Gareth?"

"Got spotted. Now he's taking pictures. I just slipped away unnoticed. Sucker," Goodie says, putting his cup down on the table.

"Unnoticed, huh?" Eddie teases. He won't tell him. He'll just wait until Goodie sees it online for himself. "There's free beer back there you know?" Eddie asks. Neither one of them needed to venture out into the crowd.

Goodie shrugs, "I wanted this kind."

He could have had that kind, could have had any kind, if he'd just asked for it. But no, he wanted to be out among the people. 

None of them are particularly fond of baseball, but they are fond of Steve, so here they are. The whole band doesn't always come, but it's the championship game, so they did.

And the score has been 1-0 forever. 

Wayne is pacing. Unlike them, he loves baseball, even if he's been a little turncoat, switching teams like a lifetime of dedication meant nothing at all. He's gotten a little shit from his friends back home, but Eddie thinks it's honestly very sweet. Eddie loves that Wayne likes Steve enough to put him and his team as his number one with a bullet, now.

It helps that Steve's part of a fucking dynasty. It's fun to win, even Eddie gets that.

Wayne doesn't always hang out in suites. More often than not, he'd rather sit in the stands. Focus on the baseball, not the celebrity that's now surrounding it. But Wayne's been dragged into their highly publicized love affair, and now he's starting to get recognized all on his own, so Eddie worries. 

Plus, he'd rather have him right here, where they can spend time together.

"What's the count?" Eddie asks. 

"3-2," Wayne answers.

Eddie's distracted, filling his plate with the various appetizers that came with the steep price of the private suite. Sliders, pigs in a blanket, and all kinds of other fancified versions of comfort food. He's just scooping some mac & cheese on his plate when he hears his main guitar riff from Buckwild. He puts down his plate, making his way to the big windows just in time to see Steve step towards the batter's box. 

Steve only changes his walk-up music to Corroded Coffin when Eddie's in attendance. He currently walks-up to Milkshake, which is fucking hilarious. He's one of the first openly out players, and he really leans into it, changing up his walk-up music, usually to something a little queer. Eddie knows it's partially to poke fun at himself first, before anyone else can. 

But tonight, it's his song. Eddie's sure he's being broadcast on the jumbotron from some camera he can't even see, and may even be on live television. Eddie watches as Steve briefly points his bat, and at first Eddie thinks Steve's calling his shot, but no. Not unless he's intending to hit a foul ball.

No, he gestured at Eddie. At least where he assumed Eddie would be.

Eddie fiddles with the rings on his hand, moving from finger to finger, twisting them around and around as Steve swings and misses for the second time. Eddie can hardly watch, it makes him so nervous.

"What's the count?" Eddie asks. It's the only question he knows to ask.

"2-2," Wayne says from somewhere behind him. Wayne doesn't stand at the front when it's likely the camera is on them. Eddie gets it, he does, but he'd like him at his side. The windows are open tonight, and the fans in the seats in front of the suite have leaned up to talk to them, to get things signed, and Eddie has done it. They all have. Waving off security.

Nobody is being shitty, just excited, and Eddie's grateful he's been accepted by most of Steve's fans. There was always the fear that he'd be seen as a distraction, and sure, that's been a bit of the narrative, but Steve's in the goddamn World Series. His head is obviously still in the game.

Eddie signed a custom Corroded Coffin jersey with Steve's number on the back earlier, and if that wasn't fucking weird and delightful. And Harrington jerseys have been increasingly spotted at their gigs, from one in the crowd, to a dozen or more.

Steve takes the next ball, and Eddie was terrible at baseball as a kid. He swung at everything. He never had the self-control to wait for something good. 

He's glad he grew out of that, at least a little, because he waited, and now he has Steve. A goddamn home run in human form. 

Eddie's relieved when he hears the crack of the bat finally making contact with the ball, and he watches intently until Steve's safely on first, Eddie leaning out of the open box window, hanging onto the frame, screaming.

He rights himself, clapping hard as he spins in a circle, screaming some more.

Then, Eddie watches as Steve steals second on a wild pitch, and the stadium sound system blares to life with Gimme Three Steps.

Steve dusts himself off from his slide in, and Eddie is so fucking smitten. 

And his ass looks damn good in those pants. His milkshake did bring Eddie to the yard.

It's the seventh-inning stretch, and Eddie hears the familiar, "for it's one, two, three strikes, you're out," being sung by the entire stadium.

He's nervous now. More nervous than he ever is going on stage anymore.

They've made it this far, and he wants Steve to win the whole thing. 

They do win. Steve fielded a grounder, whipped it to first base, and with one last out, it was finally over. Gloves being thrown in the air, lots of hugs and jumping up and down.

Steve did it.

And Eddie smiles.

Steve isn't released, not yet. There'll be interviews, and a parade that Eddie unfortunately can't attend, so Eddie only gets a few minutes in the tunnel with him. Some stolen kisses and a silly groped handful, just giving Steve's cup a squeeze, to make him laugh. 

It's all too brief, but he'll see him soon. 

They go from the game straight back to the airport, Goodie and Gareth both pretty drunk after too many celebratory shots, leaving Jeff and him to babysit as they get wheels up, to head back across the pond. Their world tour, waiting.

They'll make it. 

Steve swears jet-lag is a choice, and Eddie's choosing to believe him.

Another city, and his turn on the big stage, as Eddie looks out towards the VIP tent. Steve waves with both hands over his head, making himself larger, more easily seen.

Steve attended a few Monday shows with Robin, when their schedules lined up enough to allow it. But now his season is over. He's a fucking world champion, and it's the offseason, which is Eddie's new favorite word.

If he'd known he'd fall in love with a sportsball guy, he would have made sure their tour had a lengthy break during this magical offseason.

Next year.

And Eddie is confident that next year is a given. That's how in he is with their relationship, with Steve. They both have their own lives, their own fame, their own increasingly busy schedules. But they make it work, because they want it to work.

The fans have dubbed all their crisscrossing travel as "if he wanted to, he would" and have been straight up swooning. 

Eddie likes that thought, because he does want to, and he knows Steve wants to, too.

He's committed to this thing, and so is Steve. And if that means flying for hours to be there for the important shit, even if you have to turn around and fly right back, well fuck, you do it. And you don't even think about it.

Eddie slips in a pop cover, mid-set, just being silly, because he wants to shout out Steve a little bit extra tonight. He sings and when he gets to "'cause you know I love the players, and you love the game" and the crowd gets behind it. Steve, too, if his hands in the air are any indication. 

He's a pop girlie at heart, and Eddie loves him for it.

Steve is comfortable in his own skin, and he likes what he likes. He's supportive of Eddie, of Corroded Coffin, and very demonstrative with his affection and admiration. The love is always free-flowing. But, heavy metal isn't his thing. Not really. And that's okay.

So, a little pop is injected for his benefit, Eddie saying 'I love you for who you are' right back.

Buckwild is last, is always last, and Steve's here, so that means a subtle lyric change. He only does it when Steve's in attendance, and it makes the crowd go wild. Changing one word is enough to send them into a frenzy, like they're part of something special and sacred.

They are.

When he approaches the lyric, Steve has moved closer, right at the stage, in front of the barricade, and puts his hand up to his ear, hyping the crowd, getting ready for it, and Eddie can hardly sing through his fucking smile.

When they exit the stage, the first face he sees is Steve's, and Steve opens his arms and Eddie hugs him, pulling back and kissing him, over and over.

He's the one. 

The one he loves.

The one he'll marry.

The one. Period.

Steve waves to the crowd that's gathered to watch, and then he puts his arm around Eddie's waist, ushering him away, one more show over.

In bed, Eddie rests his head against Steve's bare chest. These last few weeks have been different, brand new, and exciting. It's the first time they've really gotten to feel like they're coming home to each other. Getting to be in the same place for an extended period of time, Steve following the tour.

Steve brushes Eddie's bangs off his face, and kisses his forehead.

"You were amazing tonight," Steve whispers, and Eddie grins. 

"So were you, working the crowd," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, and Eddie loves it. Steve's not shy. He's had all the media training, probably more than Eddie, because he's got a brand, a team, to protect. Eddie just runs his mouth at-will, always has.

Steve doesn't hide backstage where Eddie can't see him, no, he always makes sure he's supporting Eddie out loud and with his whole goddamn chest.

So, because he wants to, he does.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

Notes: Obviously inspired by the very public relationship of Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce. Goodie carrying the beer in his teeth is straight up a shoutout to Jason Kelce doing that at the Eras tour. 🍺

This one was so hard to stop writing for at the 2k max word count, lol.

[wwaheoh]

“Hey Honey! Could you pick me up from jail?” Zenless Zone Zero x gnReader (Romantic- can sorta be read as platonic?)

Von Lycaon, Zhu Yuan

a/n: Changed the request a bit, since driving without a permit- at least in California, is only an infraction and’ll only get you a fine. With only repeat offenses (charged as a misdemeanor) getting jail time. So I changed it to public drunkenness! You got a little too silly drinking the silly juice and ended up in a silly little room.

a/n²: drink responsibly

a/n³: i know nothing of drinking apart from going to the store to buy gatorade for my hungover brothers

A dry throat, aching soreness in multiple body parts, and a killer headache. These were the first things you felt waking up, slowly rising to sit upright on an uncomfortable metal platform. Shoes hitting the concrete underneath as you looked around in a daze. What happened?

You got drunk as skunk is what happened. A celebration about something or other with some friends, and sooner or later you got drunk. Thankfully you didn’t try to get behind a wheel- bad news is you terrorized a lot of people in your drunken mess and got the police involved and your bum thrown behind bars for the night. No vomit on the ground! Thankfully.

Standing up, you knocked on the jail bars, speaking up with a dry voice, “Uhh, hello?” After a few seconds a police officer walked from behind the corner, a tired look on his face- ah, it seems like he had to deal with your drunk self for a majority of his shift before you passed out. At least he’ll be getting off the clock soon?

“Could I be let out to go home?”

“You’ll need someone to pick you up. Can’t have someone hungover trying to get back home.”

Unlocking the cell, he opened the door and directed you to a wall phone, black with buttons that had their paint pressed off.

They left you to give you some privacy as you dialed in the phone number of your significant other.

“This is Von Lycaon, to whom am I speaking to?”

“Hey honey!”

“Oh! Hi dear, did you just wake? Why are you calling from a different number?”

“Uhm… well I sorta got reallyy~y drunk and sorta scared a bunch of people and then the police came…”

“...”

“...”

“Could you pick me up from the Lumina Square police department?”

“... I’ll be there in five.”

Von Lycaon ended the call, turning to Corin, who had just spilled a drink and who he had been aiding in cleaning the mess up. “Apologies but I must attend to something quickly. Please inform Miss Sebastiane that I will be out momentarily for personal matters.” Corin nodded, having quickly realized who he had been speaking to. “Yes sir!” Before returning to drying the seat.

Stepping out of the building and into the sidewalk, Lycaon began his trip to pick you up. Entering his vehicle, letting it warm up from a night of cool air, before getting it on the road and to the police department. Music that he had been recommended by Miss Ellen playing in the car speakers- a hardcore metal band with a lot of guttural screaming and sharp electric guitar riffs. He likes it.

Pulling into the police department’s public parking, Lycaon parks his car into a free space and exits the vehicle, going to enter the building from the front door. Entering, he nods to the police officer on duty, knowing them due to his duty of turning in criminals he apprehended while serving his ‘Master’s.

“Oh! Lycaon!” Waving your hand through the bars of your cell, you excitedly called his name. He nodded towards you, “I’m here to pick them up.” The officer nodded, standing up and unholstering their keys from their belt before unlocking your cell door and letting you out. “You’ll be off with a warning this time.” “Thank you sir!” You replied with a grateful nod before turning to Lycaon. “Let’s go!”

Leaving the police department with him, the moment he closed the door behind them he turned to you. A disappointed dad face written all over.

“Next time let me accompany you when you go drinking. I have more than enough vacation days saved up.”

“Yes sir…”

He drove you to your shared apartment, taking care to not dizzy you while driving. Preparing a simple chicken noodle soup and filling a cup with water, he fed you and aided as you recovered from your hangover.

You didn’t even need to call her, seeing as how she was right around the corner- having just clocked out from her graveyard shift and being notified of your situation. It was quite a surprise to turn the corner and see Zhu Yuan leaning on the wall with a mildly disappointed look.

“Really?”

“It was a drink at first… but then it sorta became two and before I knew it I…”

“It’s okay. But please don’t make it a habit. Now, let’s get you home, you must be really hungover.”

“Yeah…”

She nodded, taking your hand before acknowledging the other police officer with a grateful- and apologetic, smile. Aiding you in walking by linking your arms together, she took you to the car and helped settle you in. Driving carefully, she made sure not to do anything to set off your hangover- she did not want to vomit all over the insides of her car.

Finally the two of you arrived at your shared abode, with her helping you in before setting you down onto the couch. Entering the kitchen momentarily before returning, she handed you a bottle of coconut water, with you quickly uncapping it and chugging it. Finishing with a satisfied, “Ahh~!”, when the room stopped feeling like it was spinning.

“What would you like for takeout?”

“Burgers!”

“Sounds good.”

“And pizza!”

“Huh?”

“And Chinese food!”

“Whuh- too much!”

“And a burrito!”