#hoping to write tonight

[fishwithtitz]

My Mary series in a nutshell

[khaire-traveler]

I'm a big supporter of "the gods love you, regardless of how much you're able to do to worship them", but at the same time, it's difficult to forge a relationship with any deity (or even other people) if you don't allow yourself to be known by them. If you don't have moments of vulnerability, moments of silliness, moments of small joy even, then it's difficult to forge relationships or take them to a deeper level. Loving gods (or even other people) can be a scary thing for some people (hell, it was for me), but if you don't allow your heart to be exposed, even just a little, then you're not going to get back as much as you're hoping to.

Anything that's worth anything in life is going to require some level of risk, as terrifying as that feels sometimes, and in my opinion, having a deeper connection with a deity is one of those things that's worth the risk.

My point isn't that we aren't loved by the gods if we don't do a ritual everyday or pray every hour; my point here is that we cannot deepen our bonds if we aren't willing to dip more than just our toes into our deity relationships. Love your gods, and know that you are loved, but they can't really help you if you won't let them in, you know?

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

It's a rough night at Purgatory Hall. Your sobs into the familiar cotton of a black turtleneck prove as much. Warmth invades from every side as Solomon's body cocoons around yours on the bed, arms tightening ever so slightly with every hiccup that escapes you.

"Shh... You're alright," he whispers so softly. "Everything's going to be alright."

Lithe fingers trace around the shell of your ear as soft lips press to your hairline, doing anything he can to soothe you. It breaks his heart to see you so upset. With every mumbled, and barely coherent, stressor in your life, Solomon yearns to right every last wrong. To rid everything that gets in your way of a happy life. But so many of your problems are completely out of his control -- no matter how powerful he may be. He has to hope that the resilient nature he admires so much in humanity, that he admires in you, will prevail.

The only thing he can control is by remaining determined to do right by you. You came to him for his comfort, and by God he will kiss every last tear away, hold you until his eyes become bloodshot, whisper reassurances until his voice goes hoarse, and be the one constant in your life that believes in your future.

[livingincolorsagain]

a, beloved 🫶🫶 a writing prompt from the sacred romantic prompts for youuu!!

"could you promise me one thing?"

ty ty, sending you all the good writing juju, and i can't wait to see what your brilliant brain comes up with!! 💕💕

prompt from list 1: sacred romantic moments

“I’m gonna do something stupid.”

Eddie’s hand freezes where it’s pulling at his necktie to loosen it. He turns around, looks at where Buck is still standing by the front door, leaning against it, eyes red and a bit swollen, hands behind his back, like he’s holding back.

“Buck?” He asks, his hand dropping away from his tie. He’s exhausted, every limp heavy like someone replaced all his bones with lead, and he sees his exhausted reflected on Buck’s face, staring back at him.

Buck swallows, looks away, then back again, like he can’t actually bring himself to look away. “Just… could you promise me one thing?”

Eddie is nodding before he’s even fully registered that Buck is moving closer, slowly, one small step at a time. Still, because Buck looks like he needs to hear it, he says, “yeah, of course. Anything, Buck. You know that.”

Buck stops, just for a second, eyes on Eddie’s face, like he’s scared. Scared Eddie might disappear any second. Scared Eddie is not real at all.

“Promise you won’t hate me,” Buck says, voice cracking, “promise you won’t leave.”

Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest, breaks and breaks again. “Buck,” he says, a rough rasp that scratches at his throat, “I could never.”

Buck nods, like he’s bracing himself, then he’s close enough, and he’s twisting Eddie’s tie around his palm, and there’s a small tug, making Eddie sway closer, heart in his throat, skin tingling.

Then Buck pulls, with just enough force, and Eddie falls forward, right into him.

Buck catches him, one hand on his waist, then around it, pulling him even closer, and his lips are on Eddie’s, cracked and open and wet, like he’s trying to swallow Eddie whole. Like he’s trying to prove that Eddie’s here, and he’s real.

So Eddie kisses him back, cracked and open and wet, and real.

[halestrom]

“You should kiss me at midnight.”

Jake stilled, turning his head to stare at Rooster, well aware of the silence around them as the daggers stopped and stared at them. He thought of a dozen things to ask. Or say, as he leaned back in his chair and took in Rooster. His over shirt was long gone. Leaving him in clearly loved t-shirt with long faded words, a size or two small so it stretched across his chest and stopped above his bellybutton, a good few inches of tan skin bared. His hair was messy, alcohol and a long afternoon fading into night making his curls win the fight against whatever he used to keep them in place. He was sweaty, but they all were. The bar was sweltering, and Jake had long since unbuttoned his shirt, soaking up the attention in the form of eyes staring at his chest. Rooster looked good. He knew he did if the smirk on his face was any indication.

But Jake wasn’t ever gonna make things easy.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked, tilting his chin up, daring, commanding an answer worth his time.

Rooster didn’t back down. “I suck dick real well when motivated. And I love making out so it’s good motivation.”

Fanboy groaned, tilting against Payback as others around them gagged but Jake ignored them. “I wanna leave but I don’t, you know?” He hissed, trying to be quiet but too drunk.

Jake ignored him, and the eyerolls directed his way. “And?” He bent his elbow to prop his chin on his fist. “So, do I. You’re not special.”

“No?”

Jake grinned. “Nah. Try again.”

“Well, the fact that it’s not an instant no says a lot,” Rooster said, not moving, gaze locked with Jake’s, and it felt like the rest of the world fell away.

This was a moment that had always had the chance to be there. It never built. It simmered. Lingering under the surface for a long time and aside from one ill advised hook up had never gone anywhere. And Jake knew it never would because their career was the most important thing. They wouldn’t fuck that up. Not unless they were sure.

And it seemed like Rooster was finally taking that chance.

Jake hummed, watching Rooster for a long moment, the bar around him fading. “Buy me a drink.”

Rooster grinned, looking at the still full glass of beer. “You’ve got one.”

“Maybe I don’t like this one.”

“You’re a big boy. You can buy your own.”

Jake snorted. “Wow. Really selling it there.”

Rooster shrugged again, smirk firmly in place. Ever since the mission a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and Jake would be lying to himself if it didn’t want to draw him in. The second guessing was done, and all the ego Rooster pretended to have before had changed. He wasn’t pretending anymore, and Jake would be lying if it didn’t feel like catnip to him. He knew he had an ego, and more than one person he had been with had commented on how he could almost steamroll over everyone. But Rooster had never been one of those people. He had met Jake word for word. Comment for comment and had never backed down.

“I don’t need to sell it sweetheart. You’re just being an asshole because you can.”

Jake let out a bark of laughter at the, mostly, accurate statement. He was being an asshole just because he could. But he was also doing it because he had always loved it when Rooster fought back. “That so?”

Rooster raised his beer to his lips with a smile. “Yeah baby. It is.”

“Hmmm, well, doesn’t seem like you’re getting a kiss,” Jake said, leaning back and picking up his own drink to finish it off in a long swallow, not breaking the gaze.

Rooster tilted his head back, watching Jake as he stood. “Yeah I am.”

“Confident,” Jake said, knocking his knuckles against the table, breaking the spell. “And on that note, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

As if summons, one of the over worked waitresses appeared, handing Jake a drink with a jerk of her head toward Rooster before she disappeared again, the crowd beginning to surge as the minute warning started. Jake stared at the drink, and then back at Rooster who was grinning, proud of himself. He leaned back against the chair and crooked a finger toward Jake who was half staring at the drink wondering how the fuck Rooster had managed to do that. They weren’t at the Hard Deck, which would’ve made sense, but it was a random bar for the night, they all needed to get away from the Navy for one night.

Jake heard a round of groans as he shrugged, grabbed the drink and walked around the table and slid into Roosters lap, surprising the man if the raised eyebrows were any indication.

Shurgging, Jake wrapped an arm around Roosters neck and shifted forward, his legs spreading wide so he could get close and he felt a hand rest on his lower back, sliding under his shirt.

“Told you that you just needed to buy me a drink,” Jake said with a smirk, reaching back and setting the drink down.

Rooster snorted. “Was that it?”

Jake shook his head. “Nah, the competence.” He paused and leaned in closer as the countdown hit thirty. “There’s nothing better than a man who knows what he wants and goes for it.”

That made Rooster laugh, shaking his head. “Baby, trust me I’ve always known I’ve wanted you. I just had to fight some shit out.”

“And you have?”

The hand on his back slid lower into his back pocket as the countdown hit ten. “Yeah I have.”

Jake curled his hands around Rooster’s neck, thumbs stroking over his jaw as he pressed in closer, feeling fingers dig into his ass.

“Right answer,” he said just as the count hit zero and Jake kissed Bradley, feeling the other man surge up into the kiss as the crowd around them started to cheer as the New Year rolled in.

[fafodill]

I know this never actually happened in canon, but if Molly were to kidnap persuade Severus to stay and eat after an order meeting, how would that go down? How would Molly attempt to mother-hen a heavily resistant Sev? (His little belly needs filling 🥺).

Canon!Molly would absolutely struggle with Severus. She's a real mother-hen, can be quite overbearing and is very vocal with her affection. She's also very tactile.

All the things Severus would dislike.

So we have to imagine here a Molly who's very stubborn (which she is but not as much towards people she dislikes) AND capable of adapting her actions and attitude towards one person. This kinda makes her out of character but let's accept it for the sake of the scenario:

First of all, Severus would never stay unless he was forced to. Molly wouldn't be able to convince him. It would be because Dumbledore ordered him to OR if he was wounded/bed-ridden and had no choice. I like the wounded scenario but for simplicity let's imagine Dumbledore ordered him to eat with them from now on.

He'd put on a sour face all the while. He'd be unpleasant enough just to ensure this wouldn't happen again and she/they just leave him alone or ask him to piss off. He'd hate being treated like a project by Molly and being under scrutiny.

He doesn't like these people and don't want to spend time with them (because he's a bit of a cunt) but also because being mothered would actually tickle his mommy issues.

Because come on, having a loving mother? Who provides? Who takes care of him? Oof... Eileen couldn't.

But despite his sour face, Molly would persist. What might happen?

One good thing about her is that she had 7 children, so she knows how to deal with pouting faces. Severus is nothing new to her (tho she's a tad appalled to see a grown man like him acting like he's 12).

At first she'd be pissed at how much he's bickering with Sirius. Then after a while she'd accept that 1) they both can't help it and 2) despite the chaos it's actually doing them some good because at least they're talking and expressing other emotions than depression (and they channel their anger at each other). It would still get tiring and she'd do her best to not let them in the same room for too long.

She wouldn't try to chat with him too much either (I mean she will, quite a few times) because he's not a talker and if you force it out of him you'll just get insulted.

I think that with time she'd ask him to help in the kitchen (to prep the meals of for some finishing touches). Or ask him to make the coffee or after-dinner tea. Keep him busy every time he looks like he's about to snap at someone or leave.

It's Severus, you have to take your time with him. Gently force him into a new routine.

About the food, she'd try to ask him what he likes and if she can cook something for him (because she likes to please people) and he'd always say no. She'd even ask about his childhood meals and get such an icy answer that she would instantly drop it. But she's stubborn so maybe with time she'd just stop asking and just... look, because she's also experienced with sulking and private children. So she'd look at his expression while he eats, if he gets a second serving, if he looks a bit interested in a second slice of pie (he won't say it but he will look at it) and take the opportunity to just give it to him.

With time she'd figure out what he likes and if he's about to leave she'd pack him some food and just shove it in his hands and as he argues she'd throw her hands in the air and say 'then just toss it when you get home, I don't care!' (she cares, but if she shows she does it won't work).

The real problem is with the other Order members. Severus cannot help himself... many of them he doesn't like and he won't be able to stay out of petty fights. He says things and doesn't care if it's cruel or cold and I'm sure he'd kill the mood quite a few times. It's part self-sabotage, part old grievances, part being a cunt. And with time it's going to get tiring for everyone if he stays and just annoys or angers people.

Tho in a scenario where he's wounded and has to stay at Grimmauld's, maybe Molly would corner him and scold him about the war effort and that -yes- everyone is very impressed and grateful for what he's doing but that this is community and it's also important to take care of the morale by being civil towards each other and that if he keeps being so unpleasant then she can just give him his meal in his room and be done with it.

And they both know part of him would like that. But that it would also read EXTREMELY childish and he's way too proud to accept it.

So he'll start making an effort.

A tiny one.

And then you can build on that.

[the-muppet-joker]

Brace yourselves for some Biblical Mpreg!

[steveseddie]

home run

steddie | rating: m | wc: 3,6k | no warnings | tags: post-season 4, love confessions, first kiss, first time, dry humping, coming in pants, car sex, or technically van sex

for week two of @softsteddieseptember “confessing your feelings” and “road trips” and week two of @steddiesmuttyseptember “backseat” and “clothes on”

read on ao3 here

Steve’s fingers tighten around the grab handle as Eddie’s van skids dangerously on the wet road. “I really think we should stop, Eddie,” Steve says, finally voicing the thought he’s been having since they got caught in the rain.

Eddie leans forward on the driver’s seat, struggling to see the road through the sheets of water slashing at the windshield, the wipers failing to keep up. 

At first, Steve thinks he didn’t hear him over the heavy pitter-pattering but then he waves dismissively at him. Steve flinches when he lets go of the wheel and the van swerves.  

“No way, Stevie, if we stop we won’t make it in time for the game!”

“If we don’t stop you’ll drive us off the road,” Steve says in a bitchy tone. “And then we won’t make it to the game either because we’ll be dead.”

Eddie groans, using a rag to wipe the fogged-up windshield. “But-”

“Pull over, Munson.”

With a defeated sigh, Eddie hits the warning lights and stirs the van to the side of the road. “As Your Majesty commands,” he says, matching Steve’s bitchy tone. 

“Hey, don’t get pissy on me,” Steve protests when Eddie kills the engine. “It’s not my fault the sky opened up on us!”

Eddie slumps into the driver’s seat, air puffing out and making his bangs flutter. “No, it’s mine.”

Steve snorts. “What? You suddenly control the weather or something?”

“No, but I made us stop for lunch and waste time and got us trapped in this fucking downpour!” Eddie crosses his arm over his chest, pouting. If Steve didn’t think Eddie would throw him out of the van for it he would lean over and pinch his cheek and call him adorable. 

“We had to stop for gas anyway,” he says instead, shrugging. 

“Yeah, but we could’ve had lunch in the van!” Eddie throws his arms up, almost hitting Steve in the face. “It’s called a road trip for fuck’s sake. And now we won’t make it to the game, so it was all for nothing!”

Not for nothing, Steve thinks. They spent the last couple of hours bickering over who got to pick the music and then singing along horribly to whatever they picked to annoy the other one further, which is one of Steve’s favorite parts about driving around with Eddie. That and watching him while he drives, less worried about being caught staring at him. Not to mention the milkshakes they had at the diner where they stopped for lunch were the best Steve’s ever had. Even if they miss the game, which was the whole reason for this trip, Steve would be okay with it. 

But Eddie sounds genuinely upset about it so Steve turns to face him and puts his hand over his knee. “I bet we can catch the rerun at our hotel in Chicago.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s lame, Steve.” His eyebrows knit into a frown. “You were supposed to be there and watch it live, maybe get hit by a ball or something.”

“Eds, why are you so butthurt over this?” Steve can’t help but ask. Missing a basketball game—even a big one that they drove all the way to Chicago for—shouldn’t be getting under Eddie’s skin like this. “You don’t even care about basketball.”

“No, but you do,” Eddie says with a sigh. “And you- you’re always doing things for the kids and for Buckley and for me so I just wanted to do something for you. Wanted us to do something you want for once. That’s why I got the tickets.” 

It’s Steve’s turn to frown. “Wait, I thought Wayne got the tickets from someone at work.”

Eddie hangs a hand from his neck, watching the rain fall through the window, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Er, no, I asked him to get them for me like a month ago when he drove to Chicago for a job,” he explains shyly. “’Cause, you know, you need a credit card to get them on the phone and well, obviously I don’t have one and neither does Wayne, so-”

“Why?”

Eddie blinks at him. “Because we’re poor?” 

“No, Eds, why- why did you lie about the tickets?” 

“’Cause I knew you’d get all—” he gestures wildly at Steve, “—you about it and offer to pay for them or something and that wasn’t the point. The point was me doing this for you, y’know? Driving four hours just to sit and watch a game that I don’t give a fuck about because you give a fuck about it and I give a fuck about you. Many fucks, in fact.” He lets out a shaky laugh in the middle of his rambling. “Fuck, Steve, I actually love-”

And then Eddie snaps his jaw shut so hard that Steve is surprised he doesn’t bite his tongue off. 

One minute he’s looking at Steve like a startled deer, big cow eyes wide and spooked, and the next he’s flinging the door open and stepping out into the rain before Steve can do anything to stop him 

He blinks at the empty driver’s seat. “What the fuck?” 

He watches through the windshield as Eddie paces anxiously in front of the van, muttering to himself as the rain hammers down on him, soaking his hair and clothes. With a sigh, Steve grabs his jacket from the backseat, zipping it up before following Eddie out of the car.  

“Eddie! What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m drowning myself,” Eddie says, running a frantic hand through his rapidly soaking hair and talking just loud enough for Steve to hear him over the rain. 

“Why?”

Eddie whirls around to face Steve. His bangs stick to his forehead because of the rain and Steve wants to reach over and brush them back. “C’mon, Stevie,” he says, shaking his head. His expression is open, vulnerable, terrified. “You’re smart enough to know that was a love confession. And a shitty one at that.”

Steve blinks, feeling droplets of water fall from his eyelashes. His heart hammers in his chest. “You- you love me?” 

A laugh escapes Eddie’s lips—a mix of amusement and incredulity. “Sweetheart,” he says, his lips curling into a sad smile. “I’m so in love with you that I was down to drive us through a torrential storm to watch dudes throw balls into laundry baskets with you.”

Despite the rain soaking Steve’s clothes by the second, he feels warmth spreading through him at Eddie’s words. “Eddie-”

“I don’t expect anything, Stevie,” Eddie interjects. “You don’t even have to let me down gently or apologize-”

Steve tries again, taking a step forward, but Eddie instinctively takes a step back. “Eddie, I’m not-” 

“I know-”

Steve growls, exasperated. “No, you don’t know,” he snaps when Eddie keeps interrupting him. “God, you’re infuriating sometimes.”

Eddie laughs but it’s a little shaky. “Big word, Stevie. Twenty points for you.”

Steve shakes his head. He closes the distance between them in two long strides, trapping Eddie against the hood of the van. Eddie looks spooked at the proximity so before he can run away Steve cups his cheeks, keeping him in place. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Uh, Steve?” 

“I need you to shut up, Eddie,” Steve says, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheekbones. His lips part, undoubtedly to make another remark but Steve beats him to it. “‘Cause I’m trying to tell you I’m also in love with you.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut immediately.

“There you go,” Steve says with a chuckle. His stomach flip-flops in anticipation. “Eddie, you know I love basketball-”

The words make Eddie frown. “This isn’t the love confession I imagined-”

“Christ. Shhh!” Steve presses his finger against Eddie’s lips with an amused chuckle. Eddie yelps but otherwise stays quiet. 

“I said I love basketball,” Steve starts again, “but I’m happy to watch it just on TV, y’know? The reason why I agreed to a four-hour drive for a game was you. I wanted to go on a trip with you. We hang out all the time and it’s never enough. I’m fucking- obsessed with you! Christ, I love you!”

His finger leaves Eddie’s lips, telling him it’s okay to talk, but Eddie just blinks at him, and for a moment, all they can hear is the rain falling around them. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do a love confession,” he says in an awed voice.

“Do I get another twenty points?” Steve asks with a chuckle.

Eddie giggles. Steve has to fight the urge to pinch his cheek again. Adorable. “You get all the fucking points, sweetheart, that was romantic as fuck.”

His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheeks, warm and pink despite the cold. “Do you know what’s more romantic than a love confession in the rain?” He asks. Eddie shakes his head, water dripping from his bangs. “A kiss in the rain.”

Eddie’s eyes widening in realization are the last thing Steve sees before he surges forward, all but mashing their lips together. 

There’s barely half a second of Eddie’s frozen shock before there are hands in Steve’s hair and lips moving slowly and tenderly against his own. Steve moves closer, pinning Eddie against the hood of the van, one of his hands leaving Eddie’s face to settle on his waist. He wants to move even closer but the angle is a little uncomfortable, and he can’t lay Eddie down against the hood the way he could do if they’d drove the Beamer. Also, the rain isn’t stopping and Steve is starting to get cold after standing under it for so long.

So he breaks them apart despite wanting to kiss Eddie longer but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “Can we get back in the van now? Before we drown for real or catch pneumonia or something?” 

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eddie says in a deep voice. The way Steve shivers this time has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with how Eddie sounds and what he just called Steve. 

Hooking his fingers through Eddie’s belt loops, Steve drags him towards the passenger’s side, pausing to kiss him every few steps. There, instead of reaching for his door, he reaches for the sliding door handle. 

Eddie frowns. “Wait, I thought-”

“It’s still raining.” Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.” He kisses the other one. “So I thought we could keep this going in the backseat.” He places one final kiss on his lips.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he nods fiercely, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s jacket and pulling him inside. They land on the backseat, Steve on top of Eddie, and while that’s exactly what Steve was after when he led them to the van, he still needs to get the door. Eddie doesn’t seem to care about that—he hooks his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. 

Steve lets it happen for a moment, already addicted to kissing Eddie but he must put a stop to it when he feels water starting to get into the van. He pushes himself up, his hands on either side of Eddie’s head, and effectively separates their lips. “Gotta get the door, Eds,” Steve says when Eddie whines. 

“Hurry up,” he says impatiently. With a nod, Steve goes about sliding the door closed and then he’s back to hovering over Eddie, leaning down to bring their mouths together again. This time he licks the seam of Eddie’s lips, and when he parts them immediately, Steve slides his tongue inside, licking into Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie makes a small needy noise in the back of his throat and Steve takes it as approval, kissing him harder, letting one hand snake under Eddie’s wet shirt, feeling him up, while he holds himself up with the other one. Eddie’s hands make their way to Steve’s hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands, tugging lightly on them, making Steve momentarily break the kiss so he can let out a moan when the tug goes straight to his dick.

Eddie looks up at him with dark eyes. He gives his hair another tentative tug to see if he can drag that sound from Steve a second time. 

He can. 

“Fuck, Steve,” he whispers like he can’t believe this is happening. “You’re a dream.” 

Steve desperately wants to hear Eddie too, so he starts kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Eddie tips his head back with a heartfelt groan, exposing the column of his throat. Steve takes that as an invitation, sucking at the pale skin until a mark starts to bloom. He bites lightly at the skin and soothes the sting with his tongue, listening to Eddie’s delicious string of gasps and whines.

His legs come up to wrap around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer until Steve is lying on top of Eddie. 

Eddie who is hot and close and already hard against him. 

Steve is hard too, he can feel his dick pushing against his wet jeans. He knows they should probably get out of their wet clothes soon but right now he doesn’t have enough patience to do that. He doesn’t want to waste any time that could be spent kissing Eddie, not until they’re satisfied. If the way Eddie is wrapped around Steve like a needy koala means anything, he doubts Eddie wants that either. 

So instead Steve slowly moves his hips to meet Eddie’s. 

A whimper slips past Eddie’s lips at the friction. “Oh, fuck, Steve,” he pants against Steve’s lips. The way Eddie moans his name goes straight to Steve’s dick, making it twitch as it begs for more friction. He rolls his hips again. “Jesus, fuck- I’m- sweetheart-”

“You okay?” Steve asks when Eddie can’t seem to finish a sentence. When he rolls his hips again, Eddie makes a noise like he’s dying, failing to utter any words. “Want me to stop?”

“No!” Eddie protests, shaking his head, hair wild and fanned out on the seat. “Don’t stop. Just uh- fair warning, I’m about to embarrass myself and come in my pants like- fuck, like this.” 

Steve groans. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah?” 

Nodding enthusiastically, Steve starts rolling his hips at a steady pace. “Yeah, I want it. Wanna make you come, Eddie. Wanna see you.” 

“Holy shit, Steve,” Eddie swears. On the next thrust, he pushes his hips up just as Steve grinds down and they both moan loudly.

They fall into a rhythm after that, approaching the edge quickly. Hoping to make Eddie come first, Steve wedges his hand between them, cupping Eddie’s hard dick with his palm. It feels big and Steve’s brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears when he so much as thinks about touching Eddie without his jeans and his underwear in the way, about blowing him, about Eddie fucking him. His own body jerks almost involuntarily against Eddie’s thigh. 

He does his best to rub the length of Eddie’s dick as best as he can through his clothes, pressed so close together. Eddie lets out a string of moans and whines that shoot sparks of pleasure down Steve’s spine.

“God, Eddie, you’re so- you sound so good. So fucking hot.”

Eddie shudders against him, his breaths coming quick and short. “Don’t stop,” he pleads even if Steve has no plans to stop what he’s doing, not when he’s so close to giving Eddie what he wants. Instead of stopping, he squeezes the head and strokes him faster. “Fuck, Steve, I’m close.” 

“Yeah, come on, Eddie,” Steve urges him on. Eddie sobs against Steve’s neck, hips jerking along with the movement of Steve’s hand. “Come for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

Eddie whines, high-pitched and needy. “Steve, I’m gonna-” He bites out just as Steve squeezes the head of his dick, his words trailing off into a moan as he tips over the edge. Steve watches Eddie come undone for him—head thrown back as his eyes roll into his head. It’s the hottest thing Steve has ever seen. It’s too much. He needs to come.

He grinds against Eddie’s hip, hard and desperate, chasing his own release as Eddie catches his breath. He’s so close already. 

Eddie must realize it too. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he tells him, his hand finding its way back to his hair, brushing it away from his face. “Fuck baby, you look gorgeous like this. Flushed and needy. Humping my leg, so desperate,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. Little whines escape Steve’s lips as Eddie starts to run his mouth.

“Can’t wait to do this somewhere else, Stevie, someplace where I can drop to my knees and blow you.”

Steve’s breath hitches, his dick twitching when he pictures Eddie on his knees for him—lips wrapped around his dick, eyes molten as he looks up at him. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah? You want that, sweetheart?” 

Steve nods eagerly. “Y-yeah. Wanna blow you too.” 

One of Eddie’s hands cups his cheek. He runs his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “‘Course, baby. You can do anything you want to me.” 

Steve’s hips stutter, his brain foggy as he gets closer. “Y-you too. Anything. Fuck, Eddie, please.” 

“I got you, baby, c’mon,” Eddie whispers. His hand travels down until he’s cupping Steve’s ass, urging him to grind harder against his hip. Steve feels like he’s on fire. He’s so close, he can feel it, he just needs something more-

That’s when Eddie tugs harshly on his hair at the same time Steve grinds down, and just like that, he’s done for—he moans Eddie’s name as he spills into his boxers. Eddie kisses him through it, whispering praises against Steve’s lips that make shivers run down his spine. 

Steve can’t kiss him back at first, the aftershocks of his orgasm leaving him feeling a little stupid, yet Eddie doesn’t seem to mind—happily taking control of the kiss, licking into Steve’s pliant mouth. 

Once his brain comes back online, Steve kisses him back lazily until his neck starts to hurt and the arm holding him up cramps and he has to lower himself on top of Eddie, his head resting on his chest. 

They’re quiet for a moment, the only sound in the van is their labored breathing, as well as the rain falling outside, though not as hard as before. 

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, which is slowly starting to dry. “We might’ve missed the game—” Eddie starts, and for a moment Steve is confused, having completely forgotten about it, “—but that was definitely a home run.” 

Steve snorts. He gives a weak slap to Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s baseball, you dork.”

“Eh, whatever. I won, ‘s what I’m saying.”

“You lost your money though,” Steve says, absently playing with Eddie’s curls.

“Worth it!” He says, and Steve can hear his grin in his voice. “Hey, it’s not raining as hard anymore. We can try and make it for the last few innings.” 

“Again, Eds, that’s baseball,” Steve giggles. Eddie shrugs, jostling him slightly. “And I told you I’m fine watching it in our hotel. I prefer it, actually. Can’t do this—” He props himself up on his elbow and kisses Eddie, “—at the game.” 

“Good point.”

Steve smirks. “Can’t fuck me at the game either.” Eddie splutters, his eyes nearly bulging out of his face. Steve laughs. “You okay?” 

“Yup! I just- I think my brain broke just by thinking about fucking you.”

“But you want to?” 

A hysterical laugh falls from Eddie’s lips. “Do I- Steve, sweetheart, baby, that’s the understatement of the year. Of the century even!”

Steve smiles, pleased. “Then it’s settled, we skip the game and head straight to the hotel.” He pauses, thinking something over. “Maybe dinner first. It can be our first date.”

“You don’t need to wine and dine me, baby,” Eddie says, “you already got into my pants.” 

Steve glances down at their still wet clothes. “Technically, I didn’t.”

Eddie snorts. “Guess you’re right. Okay! You can take me out to dinner, big boy. Though we should probably change first.” 

Steve shifts, grimacing when he feels the mess in his boxers. The fact that his clothes are soaked only makes him feel more gross. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

They dig through their duffel bags for dry clothes and use the back of the van to change. Steve lets himself look at Eddie in a way he never allowed himself when he stayed over or when they hung out at the pool and finds Eddie staring right back, both of them smiling—giddy and slightly disbelieving. 

By the time they change, the rain has stopped completely so Steve steps out so he can move to the passenger seat. Eddie simply climbs to the front and flops gracelessly onto the driver’s seat. Steve watches him maneuver his long limbs with a fond smile, reaching over to smooth his hair down. 

Eddie smiles back at him, dimples digging into his cheek. Steve can’t help but lean over the space between them and kiss each of them before finally kissing Eddie’s lips. 

“Are you sure you’re not even a little sad we missed it?” Eddie asks when Steve pulls back. 

He shakes his head, leaning back against his seat. “No, Eds.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, interlacing their fingers together in the space between the seats. “As far as I’m concerned, I already won tonight.” 

“Steve Harrington, you sap,” Eddie teases yet he squeezes Steve’s hand, placing them on top of his leg, refusing to let go, going as far as using his other hand to switch gears as he starts the van. “Let’s make sure you score a few more times tonight.”

“Oh yeah, baby, talk sporty to me,” Steve says in a deadpan tone that makes Eddie cackle loudly.

But despite the two of them joking about it, they score again that night.

And a few more times after that. 

[lady-lilly-gray]

so who's gonna be the first person to drop a Seb x Modri fic on ao3??

[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[nunyverse-scribe]

Questions to get to know your Characters Better!

Mental health edition

What’s your character’s worst coping mechanism? Do they know it’s their worst coping mechanism? Does knowing deter them a bit from indulging or do they not care?

What’s your character’s best coping mechanism?

What’s your character’s biggest trigger?

What caused them to develop that trigger?

What mental health milestones are they trying to accomplish? Why did they choose those ones?

How does your character react when they “regress” in their healing journey?

What’s their biggest insecurity?

What’s a quality they always tend to compare themself to others about?

Is there any mental health disorder your character suffers from?

What’s a compliment they find hard to believe?

What’s their comfort food?

What is their most toxic trait?

[greencreekwolf]

wip wednesday

tagged by @lemmeaskthedevil @rewritetheending @onward--upward

thanks darlins!

post 8x6 fic is finished and undergoing last edits! if you wanna be tagged when it's posted, interact with this post

“Shit,” Buck says when Eddie gives him a reprieve. “Y’re good at that.”

“Hmm? At what?”

“Kissing.”

Eddie giggles. Fucking giggles what the fuck.

Buck wants to bottle the sound. Wants to force Eddie to make it again. Wants to record it and use it as ammo in the future.

“Buck, why do you look mad about that?” Eddie asks, bruised mouth curved into a slashing kind of smile, once that could cut Buck wide open. He sort of hopes it does. Thinks about asking Eddie to try.

But Eddie asked him a question and Buck doesn’t really know the answer. He’s not mad per se, but…He can’t say he expected it exactly. Not that he expected Eddie to be a bad kisser, just–

“I don’t know. It’s just–I don’t know. I’ve kissed a lot more people than you have so I guess I’m wondering how you got this good.”

“Jesus, Buck. Ever thought that maybe it’s not about quantity?”

Buck frowns. “No.”

Eddie cackles, mirthful and amused and probably frustrated too based on the squint of his eyes. “Poor thing,” he croons, curving his back in a way Buck didn’t think possible and nudging their noses together. “Upset that I’m better than you?”

“Okay,” Buck scoffs, “you’re not.”

“Does it matter when you’re reaping the benefits?” Eddie asks, calm and collected though the rich throatiness of his voice gives him away. As does the little circling thing his hips are doing and the sweet little touch his thumb leaves behind Buck’s ear.

tagging @spaceprincessem @shitouttabuck @bigfootsmom @lemonzestywrites @spotsandsocks @shyaudacity @sibylsleaves @daffi-990 @queerdiazs @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @honestlydarkprincess @transboybuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @lonelychicago @bi-buckrights @monsterrae1 @absolutelybifurious @devirnis @colonoscopys @hippolotamus @dr-shortsighted-owl @hotshotsxyz and anyone else who wants to share!

[xoxoemynn]

I spent the night catching up on reading some fic after taking a bit of a breather to focus on writing and omg, it felt SO GOOD. The amount of TALENT in this fandom is unreal. Un. Real. For the past few hours I've been immersed in so many different worlds featuring my favorite characters and it was BREATHTAKING.

And now I'm sitting here thinking about how much fun that was and how I need to do that more often because oh my god the EXHILARATION truly I am just LIVING right now. I felt SO MANY EMOTIONS and I didn't even leave my couch?!

And it's so cool because I was reading one fic and losing my mind over it and mid-way through I went "wow, I want to write a fic Like That." Because it stirred a kind of emotion in me and I'd love to stir that kind of emotion in others and it's got my brain buzzing in a new way I doubt it would have buzzed on its own had I not read that fic and it's just SO. COOL. how creativity begets more creativity and how we all inspire each other.

And it's all because we found This Show and loved it and couldn't let it go, and there are still countless stories to be told and universes to play in and it's SO EXCITING and I love you all and I'm so grateful.

Thank you for sharing your love for OFMD however you share it, thank you for your fic and your art and your text posts and your tags and your comments.

Thank you for being here. 💕

[sloasis]

Okay I'm SO sorry ( not really ) for spamming and rambling about this one goddamn episode . I keep pausing it to post about it cause I just Have to LMFAO BUT LIKE OMG . These motherfuckers STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT THIS NOT PLATONIC AND IS ENTIRELY ROMANTIC AND FULLY LOVE ??? Bro put him in HIS WILLLLLLLLL HIS LIVING WRITTEN LEGAL WILL . Also he looks BEAUTIFUL telling him this ... Eddie almost drowned and died in the well , literally saw flashbacks and heard Buck IN HIS HEAD ( and his wife but that's kinda a given ) !! And he kept going and swam to the surface because of that . Because of the FIGHT Buck has for his son fueled him to keep going .. Eddie FIGHTS for Christopher AND Buck . He asked Buck if he was HURT while he was THE ONE WHO GOT SHOT and actively bleeding out . I also said this before but the fact that Eddie's shirt is open and you can fully see the Saint Christopher pendant represents how he's giving his HEART and his SON to Buck ..... just think about that for a moment . Insane . Buck you are not expendable , if you were shot , Eddie would've been saying the same thing , doing the same thing , putting himself in danger FOR YOU . Crying to Christopher , telling him that YOU got shot , wearing himself ragged worrying .. Maddie would've lost her mind even more , she's already been struggling but this probably would've set her over the ledge .. uh metaphorically , I swear . Bobby would've ALSO been deliberately making himself a target . You have these people who will do fucking anything for you but you don't think they will so YOU are the one who does it for them . Because you fucking love them so deeply and you think you're replaceable and you think you can be left behind and abandoned , yes that has happened and probably will again but it's NOT because of you ... You make a fucking impact on EVERYONE you meet . You fucking SAVE people . You've saved EDDIE . Eddie's SAVED you . You're made for each other . You are now legally BOUND to him and his son , congratulations !

[moveslikekeithrichards]

i got a snow day today & i got to stay home yesterday bc the kids gave me strep (feeling p much 100% better now) and tomorrow is our valentimes/100th day of school shindig and friday we have a pd (no kids, free breakfast, leave at like 1:30, very chill day) and we have off monday and i get to go to art class tonight and watch a movie with my beloved friend this sunday and i should be so happy but i COULD not possibly feel more listless rn

[midnight-mourning]

One Step Ahead (Into Your Heart)

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 6💘💘

Wahhhhh sorry this is late late, had a lot happening with work and school oughhhh, please enjoy though! I think it's cute hehe

Prompt: Y/n and the boys progressively trying to out-do each others valentines proposals. All in good fun of course, they just keep getting bigger and grander gestures.

Word Count: 1838

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

When you'd first been presented with the small bouquet, you were flattered. Having just started dating the attendant a few weeks ago you weren't expecting them to get you something so soon. You wanted to return the favor for that exact reason. It was like a fun little way to show you cared and were just as committed. 

So, you'd decided to return the favor, getting them both bouquets in return, just slightly larger. You found bouquets of yellow and purple tulips at the local greenhouse and thought they would just be perfect. Honestly, you can't remember at this point if it had been intentional or not to 'out do' them. 

The Attendants coming back at you with a much larger vase filled with flowers had startled you, initially. Sun presenting the large vase to you the second you walked in the door for your shift. 

"What in the—" You'd ask, face filled with flowers and their sweet scent.

You glanced up to see Sun's rays spin as he shrugged. "Just a little something for you, Sunshine. Do you like it? Do yah, do yah, do yah?"

"I, of course I do but—"

He sets the flowers down on the desk, then turns to you. "I knew you would! Just wait, it'll only get better from here." The narrow in his eyes makes you realize that this was indeed a challenge to him, to them. Daring you to keep going. 

"That so?" You ask, keeping up your own innocent act for the moment. 

Sun plucks one of the flowers from the vase, and after a quick once-over, bends and places it behind your eye. "Mmmhmmm."

"Noted."

They were roses, of course. And currently were taking up the majority of space on your kitchen table. Though the one he'd given you directly was being pressed between a few books currently. 

One would think that would be the last of it, but it only caused you to double down your efforts further. Instead of flowers though, you switched to gifting them a stuffed animal, a teddy bear. Fitting for the upcoming holiday. 

You weren't expecting them to present to you a bigger bear. So, you buy an extra large teddy bear online, with a large heart in its fluffy paws. 

They get you a massive bear, with an even larger heart that's somehow the fluffiest thing you've ever felt. You were watching the kids at nap time when Moon suddenly deposited the plush into your lap.

"Moon!" You'd hissed, trying to keep your voice low in the quiet Daycare.

In response, he bent down, booping you on the nose. "Quiet now, the children are resting. Perhaps you should as well, I think your new acquaintance would make for excellent assistance."

He walked away before you could protest further, snickering to himself all the while. 

It had become a staple in your bedroom, nice to cuddle with on late nights where you couldn't sleep. There was a little music box inside that reminded you of the naptime animatronic, it had lulled you into slumber several nights now. 

Though, you don't know how they got their hands on it, just like the flowers. You're almost afraid to ask. 

Same goes for when you found a box of chocolates waiting for you on the desk when you turned around after dealing with a small scuffle between the kids. Sun acting so surprised and oblivious as to where they came from, and yet unable to hide his giggling about the subject. 

They can't eat, so that made it harder for you to return fire, so you switched to clothing instead, getting both of them the most syrupy sweet-themed sweaters you could find. They in turn, got you an even bigger sweater with a somehow even cornier phrase on it. And of course, more chocolates. So many chocolates you ended up having to give some to the kids some days when they weren't paying attention. 

It started to get more difficult, in the final days leading up to Valentine's. You had to change tactics. Get more, personal. Gift ideas that you were saving for next christmas and such came to light. Sketchbooks, paints, novels, more stuffed animals. Crafts that you'd been planning like bracelets and or drawings and so on. 

With each blow you dealt, either Sun or Moon came back with something more. 

Paintings and sketches, books for you, your favorite album on vinyl, a necklace. It was a constant battle, and at this point you couldn't tell who was winning and who was losing. Didn't help that it was two against one, either. Always with a good excuse, as well.

"This just seemed your type!"

"I know how much you've wanted this."

"It was in your favorite color, I couldn't not get it for you!"

"I just thought you'd look quite nice in this, is all."

And then came the cards. 

Oh, the cards. 

Similar to the rest of the gifts, they started small, simple, but that quickly took a turn. You started with those little tear apart cards you find at the grocery store. With the canned corny phrases and the likes. 

They in turn, produce homemade cards, folded into little hearts or roses or such. Each one with a somehow endearing phrase on it despite how silly they would appear to someone else. Things like 'You are purrfect to me!' or 'There is no-bunny like you!' or even, strangely—thought still endearingly—'Help, I've fallen for you and can't get up'. 

So, you came back with handmade cards of your own, with doodles and the likes of them, with your own words of romance—have kidding of course—as retaliation. 

'I think you're Dino-mite!'

'I donut know what I'd do without you!'

'I otterly adore you!'

They put even more effort in themselves, going from simple folded designs to origami shapes and the likes. The short phrases becoming full length poems sappily declaring their love. It was cute, all in good fun. 

At this point, it was mainly about trying to win that mattered most. You against them, just wanting to see who could come up with the better ideas, the more elaborate, heart-felt gifts. It was a game, one you desperately wanted to win. Just a game.

Or so you thought.

It was well after closing, the day right before Valentine's. You were working on cleaning from the day's activities and planning out the remainder of the day of's. Besides wanting it to be fun for the kids, you had one last surprise to try on your attendants. 

A massive bundle of red and pink balloons, which you'd release from above when the time was right. Along with a final present, a cell phone, so they'd finally be able to bug you outside of work hours, like they'd been pleading for since well before you began dating. 

It was a pretty decent plan you thought. So did your now sore throat after blowing up well close to 50 balloons. You were so focused on planning and cleaning, small little grin on your face as you giggle to yourself, that you didn't notice the static figure in the corner of your vision for several moments. 

It takes them clearing their throat for you realize the bot standing to your side. You jump, turning to see—not who you were expecting. 

Sun's rays peek out from under Moon's hat, a combination of their colors blending across their arms and torso. Pants blend from stars to stripes to back again, depending on how they shift from foot to foot while standing there in the dimmed light. You hadn't even caught that they'd softened. 

Eclipse—as they'd said was best to call in when they were in this mode—has their hands behind their back. You can feel the giddiness —and maybe a bit of anxiety?—radiating off them in that moment, and with a grin, turn fully to face the animatronic. 

You sigh. "Alright, what've you got now? Something that can top my wonderful surprise from earlier?"

"Maybe~" They drawl, snickering quietly. "You'll just have to see."

You cross your arms. "Let's get on with it then, but I'm warning you nothing is going to beat—" Your words die in your throat. 

"Surprise! Isn't it lovely? Just like you." Eclipse reveals a small, opened box sitting inside cupped hands. The ring inside sparkling in the light. "What do you think, best Valentine's gift ever, right?"

They laugh, though it quickly dies out once they see the look on your face. 

"Is, something wrong, Starshine?" They ask, voice much, much softer. 

You shake your head, finally able to comprehend what's just occurred. You're, flattered? Shocked? you're not sure what to feel. "I, do... you mean that?"

"Well, of course we do. Why would you think we wouldn't?" Their rays shrink. "We love you, and this is how we're supposed to show it, right?"

Oh. 

Oh.

You start to feel horrible about your reaction, trying to back track in order to explain yourself better. "I, no it's not that I don't—I just wasn't expecting—" You stop, taking a deep breath. "We've only been dating a few weeks and I guess this is very sudden. For me. Does that make sense?"

"Of course, Sunbeam! But we've loved you for a long, long time. Does it matter how long we've been together?" Eclipse tilts their head, you can hear the genuine confusion in their tone and it sends a spark right to your heart. 

"I—" You stop, shaking your head with a laugh. You take a few steps closer to them, reaching your hands up to hold their faceplate. "Don't get me wrong. It's very, very sweet. I love you both too, but let's take a step back for a moment,"—You stand on your tiptoes and plant a kiss to their smile—"Okay?"

Eclipse is frozen for a moment, then, their rays spin a little, giggling softly. "Okay..."

"Come on then." You gently take the ring box from them, depositing it in your pocket for now. Then take both their hands—you're still not quite sure how this works and the last thing you need is either AI getting jealous over the other.

As you sit and explain to them, the box feels heavy in your pocket, but not terribly. And as they realize the significance of the gesture they go from confused, to horrified, to completely and utterly flustered in the span of minutes. It makes that weight into practically nothing, instead, you're far too busy teasing them. In response to that, you get attacked with a flurry of kisses, laughing all the while. 

And as you do, you consider how much you love these two goofs, that maybe you'll consider wearing the ring. Not the traditional way, maybe on a necklace or something. At least for a little while. 

Credit where credit is due, you think they've got you beat this Valentine's day.

But there's always next year.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you @fishm0ther for the lovely little request!! I had fun trying to come up with all sorts of gifts and methods they would use to one up each other hehe ^^

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3