#if the fic isn't working

[iridescentis]

i wish i would work on fics at a reasonable hour, ive been putting off writing for a few days now and just rearranged a whole chapter and split it into two so now my chapter 2 is finished before my chapter 1

and now it's 2am

[petrichal]

I see him sometimes.

same AU as this

[justsomestuffreally]

I think the Batkids reaction to a Bruce who isn't de-aged to 8 but rather 29 (pre-Jason death, post his adoption) would be fascinating. 

Their reaction would vary wildly:

Dick: Oh. Bruce is soft again. Bruce calls them ‘chum’ and ‘buddy’ and gives head pats for no reason. He still isn’t perfect, his communication skills are still a work in progress, but compared to his future self? Without actively dying Dick is hugged plenty. Bruce asks him to go to the zoo, unrelated to any case, just to spend time together. Dick is hit with more nostalgia and longing for the past than he knows what to do with.

Also notable: his dad is younger than him. That is something. Second, holy existential crisis Batman, his dad is younger than him and already one adult and one teenage kid??? Dick is not ready to feel this old yet. Third, Dick has absolutely no idea how Bruce managed to stay patient through his no-pants years. He is going to thank reason every day from now on that Damian wears full protection.

Jason: After his death and League he clung to an image of Bruce. One many tried to beat out of him, but he still kept it somewhere close to his heart, buried deep enough even he couldn’t see it. When he came back Bruce wasn’t like this idea of him. How stupid of him to believe the mind of a traumatized kid. Trying to create one good thing before the kid drew his last breath. Making up memories that never even existed.

But they did. Every smile and hug and even his words reflect the image tugged safely against his still-beating heart. His dad very clearly, very deeply loves him. Which is so much worse. Because he can understand why a Bruce, who never cared, didn’t kill the Joker. But he cares. So why the fuck did he not kill the Joker?

Tim: The reason he joined the family, the reason why he became Robin in the first place was because he saw a problem when Bruce started self-destructing and thought ‘Someone needs to fix that!’. Therefore he went and collected Dick, who didn’t seem keen on fixing it. So, the job fell to him to fix it.

He thought he did a good job, he thought he fixed the problem. Except now he sees who Bruce was, and he knows he failed. Their Bruce is less soft, less affectionate, less like he was before. Batman needs a Robin and Tim didn’t manage to be good enough of one to save him. 

[Or: Tim has a guilt complex a hundred miles wide and blames himself for things that aren’t his fault part 52]

Steph: Jason and she are very similar. Both come from the Narrows, both have a mother addicted to drugs and a shitty father. The differences start when Steph keeps waiting on the roof of their apartment for Batman to whisk her away, while Jason tries to steal the tires of the Batmobile and is taken in.

When Steph started out as Spoiler Bruce tried to keep her off the field, and obviously this one would too (even if he would probably be less paranoid about it), but she knows this Bruce would have also taken her in. This Bruce would be the father she always wished for when she sat on their roof and couldn’t see any stars. 

And she didn’t get to have this because Jason went ahead and died. (Of course, she knows she isn’t fair to the guy. Dying isn’t fun… And she knows the only reason she lived is because he died. When Batman rescued her from Black Mask she was in such terrible shape that Leslie managed to convince the World’s Greatest Detective that she died. If Jason hadn’t died Bruce wouldn’t have been as paranoid, wouldn’t have noticed her missing so soon, wouldn’t have been as urgent in his response. Would have been just a minute slower, a minute which would have killed her. Just as it had Jason.)

For her, this Bruce is a distorted mirror into a past which never was. 

Cass: This Bruce and B are not the same person. They don’t move the same. In a fight, this Bruce is younger, faster, stronger. Doesn’t compensate for a previously broken spine. Less experienced. Still one of the most experienced she knows, but less. 

He still moves differently, outside a fight, less pain. More likely to engage in physical affection, more likely to hug and pat and talk. He talks more than B. B knows what she means without words. This Bruce doesn’t.

She likes this Bruce, warmth, and softness. But not as much as B. He knows what she means, when she wants a hug, when she tells him ‘I love you’ without words. B doesn’t need words. This Bruce doesn’t know her, doesn’t communicate like her. She wants B back.

Damian: At first, when this version of his father seemed uncanny and oddly familiar, he assumed it to be due to the stories of his mother. After all, she always told him tales about his father. He simply did not have the frame of reference to understand the kindness she spoke of. Clearly, the clash between the ideals of the League and the ones of his father causes these feelings, just as they did when he first entered the manor.

He presumed this to be the case until one day on patrol Batman laid a hand on his shoulder and told him he did a good job after no particularly impressive fight and he nearly called him ‘Grayson’. Because the stories of his mother may have painted the picture of this version of his father, however, it wasn’t what made it familiar; no, he knew this kindness. These hugs and compliments one would bestow upon a child. Compliments which, despite the indignity, still warm him. Because Grayson learned how to be a… caregiver from his father.

His father used to be like Grayson, used to be until his grief hardened him. Damian could have had this. Damian could have a brother and father who would- But he doesn’t because of Todd. He loathes Todd. Loathes him for ruining the life he could have had.

Why did he die anyway? Damian certainly wouldn’t have a problem escaping bonds created by the Joker, Damian would have disarmed the bomb in time, Damian would have never thrown this life away like he did.

[Or: Damian is a child who was raised by assassins and has unreasonable standards for fighting abilities and also is a child who needs to focus his rage on someone.]

Duke: He was neither there before Jason died nor in the aftermath [according to my math he was around 4 when Jason died] he joined the family when Jason was already back for 4 years or so. He mostly skipped all the drama. For him, Bruce is the way Bruce is because he is Bruce. It’s weird to see him so different, to see how grief shaped parts of Bruce which Duke assumed were just Bruce things.

He’s glad this Bruce is brighter, or not because it just highlights how much that light will dim? Who knows, certainly not him. 

What he does know is that, with their Bruce, he has a distance which, with his parents still alive, he appreciates. With this Bruce, he can understand why Dick struggled so much whether he wants to be his ward or son, how he doesn’t want to replace his parents but still have this Bruce as a dad. It definitely explained the ted talk Dick tried to give him after Bruce officially took him in as a ward.

He likes this Bruce well enough, but he doesn’t necessarily want him to stay this way. Yes, their Bruce is less happy, less open but he did heal, he did grow. Duke met a Bruce who tried to learn from his mistakes, learned to communicate better, and learned when to pull and when to push. For Tim, Damian, Dick, and certainly Jason there is too much baggage, too much history in their relationships, it’s difficult for them to ever move past- anything really.

Sure, when Dick and Bruce are on the same page they are essentially invincible but then the past catches up again and they don’t talk to each other for months. And honestly? Apart from Cass, Duke’s pretty sure he has one of the best relationships with Bruce simply because he got to know him at a better time.

Duke doesn’t mind this Bruce. But their Bruce loved Jason, cared for him so deeply the scars still show to this day. And he still chooses to open up again even if just a bit by bit. Even if just Duke can see it. He is used to being the only one that can see.

And maybe knowing this care extends to him, this love even grief can’t shake? Maybe it makes him feel just a little bit safer, a little bit warmer, a little bit brighter.

[starcurtain]

I think Alhaitham's views on gods and his dynamic with Nahida in particular is probably one of the most underrated comedic elements to come out of Sumeru.

This guy put together an entire crack squad and master plan to rescue a god while being the Genshin equivalent of an atheist. "Yes, obviously archons exist. But so do sharks. Both of those beings have their place in the ecosystem, and if I had to pick one to piss off--"

Like, does he believe in the dendro archon? Yes. But is he going to listen if she denies his paid vacation request? Absolutely not.

Bro is selected by name to come discuss important matters with his nation's deity in her sanctuary, and he's just like, "Oh, I ran into Nilou there once. That was cool."

Raised to the highest possible position available in his nation's government by the deliberate selection of his god? Resigns.

We know that Nahida still calls on Alhaitham when Sumeru is in need of defending from nefarious parties, and sends him out with Wanderer to kick ass and take names. Now that they've forgotten Rukkhadevata and the Akademiya's ploy to imprison Nahida has been foiled, most of the people of Sumeru would be floored by the honor of being called upon personally to aid the great dendro archon. Staggered by the fact that the lord of wisdom herself finds them worthy! But Alhaitham? He just goes home. Kaveh asks him what he was up to all day. "Hm. Nothing of note."

Everyone else, upon receiving the recognition of a god: My life has been changed forever. I will be telling my great grandchildren of the day I received such a blessing!

But for Alhaitham? It was Tuesday.

Criminally underrated comedic potential. CRIMINAL.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Florist's Least Favorite Holiday

Steddie || wc: 1.7k || rating: T || tags: fluff, this is a real thing that happened to me so I wrote about it

Valentine’s day is fucking awful. It’s the worst day of the year, and this year’s no different than the last five Valentine’s days Eddie’s worked in the floral shop.

Eddie’s stripped the thorns from over a thousand roses in the past two weeks, sorting them into buckets by color. The best part about his job is usually bringing a design to life, picking the perfect flowers to create an arrangement like a work of art. Yet somehow, Valentine’s day manages to suck the life out of that too, with little to no creativity between each one-dozen red roses arranged in a fake crystal vase.

Prepping over a month in advance, Eddie has taken almost four hundred orders for pick-up and delivery for the tiny, backwater town of Hawkins. They’re a small shop, with only himself, Chrissy, and Vickie as permanent workers. Thankfully, this year they were able to hire some temporary helpers to blow up balloons, make candy baskets, and take deliveries. Even with the help, that still leaves everything else to the three of them.

Regardless, he’s busting his ass. The newbies have left for both rounds of morning deliveries and the first round of afternoons. Chrissy’s working the counter while Vickie fields complaints. This leaves Eddie to wander the floor, helping confused husbands and boyfriends find the right pick for their spouses.

Working with customers to find something they’re happy with isn’t so bad. He likes guiding them towards answers to questions they didn’t think to ask. Like what their spouse wears, how their home is decorated, what their favorite color is. Every detail helps, and Eddie is, quite genuinely, always happy to help someone who asks– nicely.

He’s on his way back to the counter with an empty bucket in his arms when he spots a guy holding a few roses. Eddie watches, momentarily transfixed, as the man sticks his tongue out in concentration, swiping it over his lower lip. His brow’s furrowed, glancing back and forth between the single-stem lavender and pink roses in the display case in front of him. 

Eddie can’t blame the guy, honestly. There’s over twenty different colored roses to choose from this year. Chrissy really went above and beyond to haggle with their suppliers. They’ve got the best of the best, truly something to brag about. 

He sets the bucket down underneath a display table so it’s out of the way as he heads over to help. Eddie must catch his attention.

Bright lights from the display case reflect the light hazel tone to his russet colored eyes and shines golden against his softly styled brown hair. A fine dusting of moles across his face and neck perfectly complement his tanned skin.

The prettiest thing in a shop full of pretty things. A goddamn angel.

Except he’s wearing high-top Nike sneakers like the jocks used to wear, along with tight acid-washed jeans, and a grey Members Only jacket. The guy screams straight, ex-jock, fuck boy, even more evident by the two separate roses in his hand as he eyes up a third. 

Still, he’s a customer in need. And Eddie is nothing if not a humble servant.

“Can I help you find something?” Eddie asks, only slightly more casual and flirty than his typical customer service voice. 

The man’s lips part into a soft ‘oh’ as he stands and stares at him. Eddie quickly glances down at himself, scanning for stray stems or petals hanging from his apron. There’s nothing there, at least nothing worth gawking at. Maybe he’s got something in his teeth? Shit, he should’ve checked first.

“Uhh–,” the man says, intelligently, interrupting Eddie’s own internal spiral– “I was just looking at, you know.” He gestures to the buckets of roses without taking his eyes off Eddie. “I need one more, and can’t decide on a color.”

“Three roses, huh?” Eddie says, the joke rolling off the tip of his tongue before his mortified brain can prune it, “One for each girlfriend, that’s sweet of you.”

Fucking Christ. He wishes he’d kept the bucket of water to drown himself in, like this day can get any worse.

This beautiful, angel of a man scoffs at the unbecoming joke and yeah, Eddie can’t blame him. For someone who not only prides himself on his customer service skills, but also his charm, this is a royally large fuck up.

The man grabs the lavender rose, holding it out to Eddie along with the two other pink and white ones already in his hand. “This is for my best friend. This one–” he holds out the pink– “is for my adopted sister.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, before the guy cuts him off.

“And this one–” he shows off the white rose– “is for my Gran. I’m stopping by the cemetery on my way home and thought she’d like it.”

Forget drowning in a bucket of leaf water, Eddie deserves to be crushed under the weight of a million roses, thorns tearing him into tiny little pieces. 

“Right,” Eddie huffs, annoyed with himself. He scrubs his hands roughly over his face, like he can erase the embarrassed flush burning up his neck to the tips of his ears. “I’m so sorry, man. I have no idea why I said that. It’s just–” Eddie waves his hand around the store– “it’s been a long day, and sometimes I think I’m funny when I’m really, really not. I’m not normally this awkward, and I’m typically much better at my job.”

At this, the guy smirks, like watching Eddie squirm is entertaining. It’s the least he can do, if his misery makes the man feel better. He eyes Eddie up and down, so slowly that Eddie feels like his skin's on fire. Probably the display lights... they can really heat up some days.

“Can you ring me up?”

Eddie nods, thankful how quickly he seems to let the entire confrontation go. They make their way to the counter, Chrissy eyeing him as he asks her to switch for a second. She eyes the customer and nudges Eddie, where he notices a playful smirk on her face. Jesus, she’s nosey. He only rolls his eyes as she walks off.

Doing his best to avoid eye contact, Eddie focuses solely on wrapping up the flowers in the pretty, heart-printed paper they bought specifically for the day, and ties a matching colored bow to each package.

He feels the unrelenting urge to fix this, unsure why it matters so much to him. This guy most likely won’t even be back until next year, just like the rest of the customers he’s helped today. Eddie shouldn’t treat this one customer any different because he’s cute.

And yet.

“I actually think you’re really sweet!” Eddie blurts, thrusting the packaged roses into the guy’s waiting arms. “Shit, I meant it’s sweet you’re buying them gifts. I didn’t mean you’re sweet. Not that you’re not sweet, I mean– goddamnit.” 

He’s smiling at Eddie, like this is all an adorable spectacle and not the worst experience of every Valentine’s day Eddie’s ever had. God, that fucking smile makes Eddie’s insides melt.

“Really?” His voice is playful, if yet a little shy. Eddie buys into it, of course he does, desperate to make up for his flailing. 

“Yeah, definitely sweet– adorable, even. Positively charming.” Eddie’s on better footing now, watching a rosy blush bloom underneath tanned freckles. There’s a line of customers grumbling about the wait, but Eddie doesn’t care, not so long as he gets to keep staring at the ray of sunshine smiling back at him.

His smile turns coy as he locks eyes with Eddie and says “I’m single, you know."

Eddie can’t think to respond over the roaring static in his ears, brain going into full shut-down mode. Did he just–

“What?” And Eddie’s back to being a total buffoon.

It must be cute though, because the guy laughs as he leans forward to grab one of the shop’s business cards next to the register. He writes something on it, then hands it back to Eddie who flips it around in his hands to read it.

Call me, and thanks for your help.

♥️ Steve

There’s a phone number listed below the man’s– Steve’s– name. An actual, honest to god phone number. From a man who looks like he could work in Hollywood for a living. 

Eddie can feel his own face splitting in two with how hard he’s smiling. He reads the simple note once, twice, three times before he remembers where he is and who’s still standing in front of him.

Steve looks hopeful, eyes flitting between Eddie and the note as he fiddles with the bow on one of the packaged roses. 

“Yes,” Eddie practically shouts, glee saturating his tone. “I’ll definitely call you tonight. Well–” Eddie glances around the shop, spotting the scattered empty buckets, piles of dead leaves on the ground, and the stack of unprocessed delivery tickets– “maybe I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And Steve nods, like it’s that easy, and shyly answers, “Can’t wait,” before heading out the door, sending a dorky little wave over his shoulder as he goes.

Somehow, Eddie manages to recover enough of his higher brain power to work the rest of the day. He falls back into routine: boxing vases, filing orders, dumping rotten plant water, scrubbing buckets, and organizing the back cooler. It’s almost midnight by the time he gets home, slightly earlier than he expected.

His feet ache like they always do, and he’s so emotionally drained that Eddie thinks he could go the rest of his life without talking to another customer ever again. Except he thinks, fiddling with Steve’s note, maybe there’s one customer he'd talk to again.

Tomorrow, though. Definitely tomorrow.

divider kudos <3

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital drawing of riz gukgak from fantasy high. in the front is a relatively small drawing of riz juggling books that are falling out of his hand and a phonecall, and he has a huge backpack on. he looks a bit overwhelmed, hair flying in all directions, and has a nervous smile on. in the background is a large shadow of riz, only one glowing eye and a shining gun visible. the background is red, giving an eerie feel. End ID]

Kill your best friend

Cheat your way to your rogue teacher

Announce your presidential campaign

Don't let them know how angry you are

LEARN TO RECOGNIZE A MONSTER

[demaparbat-hp]

When I saw you making For the Spirits art I was so excited, wow, one of my favourite artists is reading this too, how nice!! Then I realised you’re actually the author and I just want to ask, how?? Are you so talented???? I love this fic and I love your art so so much, thank you for sharing it all with us. Can’t wait for the next update!!

Ah, thank you! This is literally so sweet! For the Spirits (adding a link for the curious folks out there!) is my love child. This project owns my heart and soul, and it's truly so rewarding that you like it! I want to sketch so many different scenes, really, but I'm doing my best to give you some quality artwork of my favorite moments in the story. It's a slow process.

As for next chapter—soon! I'm working on some sketches for this particular scene, and I am so excited to share it with everyone! Things start to pick up from here... But, for now, have a (very little) sneak peek ❤️

Zuko stood at the end of the world, surrounded by miles of snow and the resounding echo of his own shallow breaths. He took everything in, closed his eyes to receive Agni’s light, and howled.

Something howled back, and he smiled.

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[gay-ppl-real]

I can never just come on here to do what I came to can I

Just wanted to post a short, 4 page minicomic. The culmination of a couple week's work. Please expand to view properly; I put a lot of detail into these :)

This scene and dialogue were pulled from the Studio Ghibli movie, Ponyo (2008). I've thought for a long time that Ponyo's "There's water coming from your eyes!" seems like a very Wally thing to say (especially if it's the first time he's seen someone cry!) and from there I just made up a scenario where the dialogue from that scene would make sense.

I've been thinking a lot about the Homewarming update (tis the season, y'know?) so Eddie ended up the Mum/Lisa stand in, making Frank the most obvious choice for a Sosuke stand in.

What DID happen to Eddie? Where did he go? I dunno, you tell me your theories! This isn't intended to imply anything/theorise about the Homewarming update or anything like that; just playing around with a fun idea :3

Aaalso while thinking about this I was hit by a Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind AU with Frank. Being a whisperer for giant bugs and having compassion for a recovering ecosystem? Being Nausicaa would be right up his alley! So mebe I'll draw something related to that soon.

[softmangoes]

how the LIs kiss

18+

pure!sydney's kisses are sweet, mouth soft and his tongue warm. he kisses you in the same way he savors the hard candies you'd slide over the library counter, slipping them into his hands just so your fingers could brush. when he pulls away, his glasses are foggy, a nervous smile on his face. "was that..." he says, blushing. "was that alright?"

corrupt!sydney's kisses are hungry. he's got his hands under your shirt and his tongue deep in your mouth. he's been waiting so patiently, after all, and now he finally has you to himself. "you taste divine, beloved." he says, fingers slipping under your waistband. when you sigh against his mouth, he smiles. "but i think it's time i have my dessert."

whitney's kisses hurt. they're full of teeth and bruises and blood and his nails digging crescents into your skin. whenever he crushes his lips to yours, he always makes sure to leave you aching. and like every fight you've had against him, you never come out unscathed. "there," he says, marveling at the fresh marks blooming along your neck. "now everyone will know whose slut you are."

kylar's kisses are desperate. his hands roam your skin as his mouth murmurs endless promises into the hollow of your neck. "we'll be together forever," he says, drunk on the scent of you. he presses his body to yours, eager to get closer, to envelope you in his embrace. to never, ever, let you go. "nothing will ever change that."

eden wastes no time when he kisses you. he has known the lean months of winter and the lonely days of fall. you cannot deny him the sweetness of spring. he bites into the curve of your neck like the first fruit of warmer days, licks at your lips to drink in your sweetness. but a hunter is always hungry, always wanting. "it's been a long day," he growls, deepening the kiss. when he takes your shirt in his hands, the fabric rips apart easily. "too long without you."

robin's kisses are warm. they're fingers running through your hair, a smile against your mouth. sunny days and lips that taste like fresh lemonade. he always laughs when he kisses you, like he can't believe he's doing this. like he can't believe he's yours. when he kisses you, the world is a little brighter. softer. "it's a beautiful day to be with you," he murmurs after he pulls away, pressing a peck to your cheek before taking your hand in his.

there is no way you can truly describe how the ivory wraith kisses you, but there is a note of familiarity to it. your mind conjures memories of kisses whispered in passing, of lips locked in darkened halls. "as sweet as ever," he hums, licking your lips with his cool tongue. "as sweet as always." the passing of centuries have done little else but make him yearn. the wraith, with his great and terrible beauty, kisses you like he's been waiting for you all this time.

[fiepige]

Compilation of EVERY single time they changed Hobie's filter in the digital version:

Left: Theatrical release Right: Digital release

You might have to click on some of them to get a better look at Hobie, sadly I don't have a video editor that allows me to make better edits than these :')

[melusiiine]

i got my grubby little mitts on a commission slot by the magnificent @kabukiaku , the omega3 angst is perfection

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13)

Pairing: Nico Hischier & Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

Rating: 18+ MDNI (chapters marked with *)

Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Accidental Pregnancy, Fake Dating, Miscommunication, Slow Burn (Kind Of)

General Warnings: Angst, Smut (marked with *), Fluff. (chapters will contain individual warnings)

Summary: Poppy Jensen’s job with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be her first big step into adulthood - a way to prove to herself and her overbearing parents that she could make her own way in life. She was never supposed to become involved with any of the players. Becoming best friends with their captain was stupid. Getting her heart broken by him was tragic. Getting knocked up with his child was just plain messy.

prologue

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four*

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine*

chapter ten

chapter eleven*

chapter twelve

all related asks - all related posts

Bonus:

On My Side* aka Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils, set around 8 weeks after the events of the fic, 6k words

[queenie-ofthe-void]

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

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

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

Long story short, he’s not a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All of my love, all of my love

all of my love to you, oh

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

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

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

The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again

One voice is clear above the din

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

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

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

All of my love, all of my love, yes

All of my love to you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "holding out" ⎯୧ (mjh)

+*:🍰:*﹤ask / smut w a little plot, sub!jaehyun, endurance training, kinda exhib+voy, nipple touching, petnames: sweetheart/sweetie/good boy/baby boy, reader fem anat, mentions of piv sex, handjobs / wc: 3.2k / masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *

jaehyun’s been acting weird, and that’s saying something, because he’s always been a bit strange. 

but it’s obvious he hasn’t been his usual self for the past week. when you ask him about it, he brushes it off quickly and changes the subject. 

then, whatever’s bothering him begins affecting your sex life. he's tense, visibly nervous before you guys do anything intimate. you can tell he's close when his high-pitched moans turn into quiet, choked off gasps. you know the signs, and you’re more than ready to feel his hot seed fill you up the way you like, but it never does. 

you see his face scrunch up in torment right before he hides in your neck. he continues to let out a string of pitiful whimpers, hips still thrusting sloppily until you're showing signs of orgasming yourself. this goes on for days before you notice a pattern. 

you guys get intimate, and for a little while afterward, he gets quieter, more reserved, almost…ashamed? he can’t even seem to look at you, and is quick to scoot away when you sit too close to him. it kind of hurts, but you give him time and space, figuring he’ll come to you if  he’s ever ready to talk. he never brings it up, but after a couple of hours, he’s back to the jaehyun you know–a bit strange, proposing unusual schemes and so hyper he’s basically bouncing off the walls.

the two of you often fall into intimate moments after bantering, sometimes even play fighting, and tonight’s no different. jaehyun’s his usual mischievous self, teasing you enough that it’s harmless, but gets under your skin. when tension arises and things get heated, you guys make eye contact, and he kind of just…deflates, moving from where he’s hovering over you to slump back against the couch.

you hesitate, because you don’t want to put him on the spot, but his behavior is beginning to make you concerned, and a little insecure. after a few moments, it’s obvious jaehyun’s not going to say anything, so you speak up.

"sweetie, we should talk." 

immediately, he tenses. he sits up, and his shoulders are so stiff it looks uncomfortable. his only noticeable movement is the fiddling with his fingers, wringing them as if he wants to crack his knuckles, but they’re not popping. you keep a safe distance between the two of you, but sit close enough that you can rest a comforting hand on his thigh.

his eyes are glossy, and his lip is caught in between his teeth when he finally looks at you. he looks like a kicked puppy, and you immediately want to scoop him in your arms and make him feel better. but, time and space.

"oh, baby. will you tell me what's bothering you?" 

his lips move, but almost no sound comes out. his cheeks visibly redden when you ask him to repeat himself.

"do you think i...finish too fast?" he asks, mumbling 'finish' shyly like it's dirty. you stare at him in confusion, rolling his words around in your head, trying to get them to make sense. since when is him cumming quickly an issue?

"sorry, was that too abrupt? just forget i-"

"no, you're fine, jae. i was just a little surprised," you look away from him for a moment to think about your next words carefully. "there's nothing wrong with being sensitive."

again, jaehyun deflates back into the couch, hands coming to hide his face.

“that’s probably the worst thing you could've said. seriously, ‘yes’ would’ve been less embarrassing.” he muffles his words with his palms says.

“i’m sorry, i just mean–” you pause. “even if you finish quickly, what’s wrong with that?”

“well, doesn’t it leave you…unsatisfied?” this time, he whispers ‘unsatisfied’ cautiously, and pre-winces like he’s waiting for the scariest answer possible.

almost immediately, you laugh, which sounds more like an amused scoff. just the thought of jaehyun leaving you high and dry is a bit silly–he’s a wonderful partner. even if he finishes quickly, he’s damn near always hard, and rarely fails to make you cum.

but, unfortunately, you don’t say that, so your laughter is your only response. jaehyun looks at you with his jaw hanging down and his eyes wide like he’s mortified.

“fuck, i shouldn’t have said anything,” he half-whines, running his hands through his hair in distress. instinctively, your hands come up to fix the mess, taming wild strands back into place so he looks less like a wet cat. 

“no– sorry, i’m sorry. i’m not laughing at you, it’s just-” you stammer your words out, trying to clean up the way you’re royally fucking this up. “jaehyun, you’ve never left me unsatisfied. you don’t even have to worry about that, okay?” you grab one of his hands and squeeze it lightly, trying to punctuate your statement. he doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push back, and instead reciprocates the hand-holding.

“but still, it kinda makes me feel bad. humiliated, i guess? we barely get started and i feel like i’m already creaming my pants.”

the statement almost makes you giggle again, but you hold it back because that’s not at all helpful. personally, you love jaehyun's sensitivity, the way he gets tender and desperate from a hand tracing his thigh, the way he's on the precipice after a little petting. it's cute, he's cute, but you don't know how to tell him this in a way that will stick, so you change courses.

“okay, this is a serious issue. what do you want to do about it?”

he looks at you bashfully, lips parted like he has something to say but isn’t sure how. interesting, he’s thought about this before.

“come on, myungjae. it’s just me. there’s no need to feel shy,” you shimmy your shoulders a little, drawing his attention to where your boobs are sitting braless in your shirt, and they jiggle the tiniest amount. it’s not a shallow movement–jaehyun’s easy to rile up, and you can tell he’s already tenting in his shorts. if he’s aroused, he’ll be much more comfortable talking about this, you hope.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“okay, what’s this called, again?” you ask just to be sure, getting comfortable laying near jaehyun’s chest. you two decided to do this in the bedroom, where jaehyun might be most comfortable, since this is new territory. he’s slumped against the pillows and headboard, looking down at you with a look of uncertainty and a bead of sweat already forming on his temple. 

“training,” he says shakily, voice trembling around the words. “i’m basically gonna edge myself, and hopefully with time, i’ll be able to last longer– or maybe i’ll have better stamina, or something.” his uncertainty makes you a bit nervous. it’s not like you two haven’t explored edging before, but you typically do it to each other, not watch one another do it to themselves. 

“and you’re positive you wanna do this?” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you. he hesitates for a second, then there's a sense of determination in his eyes. they’re dark and determined when they meet your own. 

“i want to do this,” he says resolutely, nodding his head as much as he can in your grip. you release his face to let him get comfortable, and he has you set a five minute timer on your phone. your job is fairly simple–tell him to stop when five minutes are up until (hopefully) he’s done it for twenty minutes. 

“okay, but why can’t i do it for you?” you ask, trying to push away the urge to pout. you love feeling him tremble under your own hands, watching him fall apart from your touch.

“it’s better if i do it myself today. i t-think i might nut immediately if you touch me,” you’re a little disappointed, but you’re also intrigued about watching him touch himself, and this is important to him, so you want to be supportive. besides, he didn’t say you can’t spur him on.

jaehyun shimmies his shorts off and throws them somewhere on the floor, and you’re immediately distracted by the sight of his dick. it’s so cute and plump, and you stave off the need to put your mouth on it. you exchange “readies,” and jaehyun wraps a hand around his member. you watch as he jerks at the feeling. he takes a deep breath, and when he nods, you start the timer. 

he’s just building up a steady rhythm when the timer reads 10 seconds, after successfully overcoming his shyness and giving into the pleasure when he sees that you’re not judging him.

and boy, are you not judging him. 

looking at jaehyun from across a crowded room is usually enough to get you hot at your core, but this need was something new entirely. you watch the way his head mushrooms on upward strokes, and almost feel dizzy at the sight of him running his thumb across the tip expertly. of course jaehyun knows how to work his own body, but damn. it’s so effortless you almost feel like you're interrupting. 

he doesn’t notice the way you rub your thighs together to keep the feeling of insanity at bay. he’s too lost in his own pleasure, eyes squeezed shut as he spreads his precum down his penis, and you might actually be drooling.

he’s shaking like a leaf by the time ten minutes pass, huffing a frustrated breath and laying his head back against the pillows. he moans softly when you place a quick kiss on his neck. 

“what’s the matter, hyunie?” you say with a mischievous smile. he’s taking a small break from touching himself, so you rub little circles into his hip bones.

“god, i–” he stops to swallow, mouth dry from gasping and moaning. “dunno how m-much longer i c-can do this.”

“but you’re halfway there, baby boy. you can do it,” you encourage, running a hand through his ruffled hair. he doesn’t share that belief, it’s obvious in his eyes, but he wraps his hand around his member again. 

“there you go,” you commend. he doesn’t say anything about you touching him, so you keep doing it, bringing a hand up to lightly squeeze his pec. “is this okay?” 

he nods a little, whimpers a little in what you assume is permission, because he whines petulantly when you pull your hand away. 

after a few minutes, he’s breathing hard, and bucking his hips to meet his hand halfway. the timer reads 1 minute and 03 seconds left.

“fuck, i-i can–, can’t-” he babbles incoherently, thighs shaking where they lift in the air and fall back on the mattress rhythmically. he throws his head back again, neck on full display for you to make use of. you take the bait, latching onto his skin and sucking red, angry marks into it. you pull away to read the timer again, 21 seconds left. when you suck another mark into his neck, jaehyun gasps out.

“y/n, y/n, please, -m s’close– ah-h–” 

while you’re admiring his fucked-out state, your phone beeps next to you. you turn it off and look back at jaehyun. you’re surprised to see that he’s already looking at you, eyes big and glossy as he humps his hand. 

“time’s up, jae,” you say. he whines. “jaehyun, stop.”  he makes a little sound that you’re not sure what to call, something high-pitched and desperate as his hips stutter. “hyunie, do i have permission to touch you?” 

he nods quickly, desperately, likely under the impression that you’re gonna help him cum. the distressed whine he lets out when you pull his hand away from his cock is visceral, like he doesn’t have control over making it. 

he gasps for air greedily as he teeters from the edge. one of his hands clenches the duvet underneath him, and the other clasps your thigh instead, grip unforgiving. you’re so turned on you don’t even notice the pain, occupied by taking in his flushed face and messy hair. you connect your lips with his in what was meant to be a quick kiss, but he deepens it, the hand on the comforter coming to cup your cheek instead.

“almost lost yourself for a second there, huh?” you tease after pulling away, whispering in the small space between you guys’ parted lips.

“thi s-is s-so hard,” he mumbles, words trailing off into a whine, sloppy and slurring together. 

“but it’s been fifteen minutes, sweetheart. just five more and you can cum.” 

jaehyun squeezes his eyes shut in displeasure as he comprehends your words, and part of you wants to give in and let him have it. you know how badly he wants to succeed, and he’s already worked so hard. this was his idea, anyway.

but the other, seemingly sadistic part of you wants to watch as he pushes himself to agonizing pleasure. desperate jaehyun is one of your favorite sights–the way cute little tears roll down his cheeks and his body basically vibrates with a need only you can fulfill. 

it’s beautiful, to say the least, and the power goes straight to your cunt, getting you all hot and needy yourself. you clench around nothing at the mere thought of it, so you press “start” on the timer again and help wrap jaehyun’s hand back around his dick.

for a minute, jaehyun doesn’t say anything. his eyes roll back at the stimulation, and he fucks up into his hand dumbly as you lick his nipple into your mouth. 

"s-shit, fuck, n-needa cum- hahh, please, it hurts-" he whines in your hold, unoccupied hand trembling where it’s still laying on your thigh.

"don't you wanna last, sweet thing? you’re so close." 

"i-i- hn- don't w-wanna d-do this anym-more,” he stutters out, struggling to string the sentence together through the fog in his head and the pleasure coursing through his lower body. you halt the stimulation on his nipple at his words.

"what's your color, hyunie?"

"g-green, green, fuck, i just wanna cum," he says immediately, tears building up in his lash line and finally rolling down his cheeks. his hand wavers, then picks up speed again. 

you pretend to contemplate while trailing a finger along his shaft and pulling away when he chases the feeling. "you want me to give you permission? tell you to reach that overwhelming pleasure, make a mess all over yourself?" 

jaehyun nods, of course, but you’re not even sure he’s comprehending what you’re saying right now. his eyes are almost fully black with the way they’re dilated, and you’d be worried if you hadn’t just confirmed his color.

"but i don't think you deserve it, sweetheart,” you lie. of course he deserves it, but he’s so fun to play with. “it hasn't even been twenty minutes and you're already falling apart. maybe i should get a ring for your little cock, watch as you desperately work yourself through dry orgasms." his hips stutter at your degrading words, hand aggressive as it strokes his poor, throbbing dick. the need to have it in your cunt has never been as strong as it is now.

"n-noplea- f-fuck, i’ms'rry-" 

over jaehyun's slurred babbles, you almost don’t hear the timer go off. at the realization that it's been twenty minutes, you smile proudly and turn the alarm off. 

you shh jaehyun's whimpers and hiccups and bite another mark on his pec. you replace his hand with yours and thumb at his tip, then watch as he falls apart for you.

"hng- gonna cum- cumming, pleas-"

"you're so good, hyunie. you did it. cum for me." 

jaehyun looks at you almost in disbelief before his head falls back against the pillows and he's cumming so hard some of it lands on your shirt.

"you did it, myungjae. did such a good job for me," you congratulate again while peppering kisses on his face.

"did it," he mumbles breathlessly with a lopsided smile and droopy eyes.

"mhm. you deserve a reward, don't you think?"

"uh-h," he mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. he looks so tired, but you’ve been with him long enough to know he could give you two more orgasms at least. you lift up to straddle his legs and rub up and down his thighs gently. 

"i don't mind your sensitivity, hyunie. can i show you why?" he nods silently again, eyes glossy and dazed. he’s breathing harshly through his nose, but looks like he’s in overall good shape, so you take his dick in your hand again and begin slowly pumping it.

"u-unh- too m-much-" he whimpers out, brows furrowed in euphoric torture. his hips twitch like he doesn't know if he should buck into the feeling or pull away from it. despite his moans in protest, he’s already filling up in your hand, ready to be played with again.

"see how you're already hard again, jae? all for me?" his mouth hangs open, but no words come out. instead, he grunts loudly when your pace increases. 

"i just wanna make you feel good," you squeeze his member lightly then tease at the slit. his head falls back again, and his back arches slightly, but he's still staring at you, eyes full of wonder and hanging onto every word you say.

"it doesn't matter if you cum quickly, ‘cause you can just do it again for me, isn't that right?" you twist your wrist just right, and he's shuddering through another orgasm, a pained, high-pitched whine coming from the back of his throat.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

"t-thank you," he mutters, eyes struggling to stay open, boneless on top of the mattress. his words are still dragging, but they’re much more comprehensible. "-m sorry for making a big deal out of this. it all seems so silly now."

"if it matters to you, it matters to me, sweetheart," you reply, rubbing knots out of his shoulder from where you’re still straddling his legs. you’re still unbearably horny, and you’re pretty sure you’ve soaked through your underwear and your shorts by now.

"still..." he trails off, eyes following you as you stand up from the bed and strip off your clothing. you see the way he gulps, the way his eyes helplessly flit between your boobs and your cunt, but you don’t say anything–you figure he’s had enough teasing for one day.

you straddle him again with a mischievous smile on your face.

"let me ride you and i'll let you off the hook?"

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : i'm actually kind of in love w this story and maybe it’s because i pulled an allnighter to write it and my brain cells aren’t all the way here, if you read this and something doesn’t make sense PLEASE tell me 😭 guys do nawt have me out here looking like a fool </3 i tried to make it different from the taesan one, it was supposed to be a drabble but please don’t ask me how it became literally 3k i DO NOT KNOW….that sleep deprivation boost ig </33 berry just a blogger tryin their best

special thanks to @zynz0 and this fic which made me literally insane. while writing this, i couldn't find the phrase for what jaehyun is doing here but that post helped me a lot!!!

now i will FINALLY SLEEEEEP RAHHHH i literally finished this at 9am

[delta-piscium]

Steddie | 1.7k words it is (swedish) midsummer so I wrote this based on my favorite old tradition because I can and will make anything steddie, so like glad midsommar (happy midsummer)

“What are you doing?” Steve asks as he follows Eddie to the hallway where he’s frantically putting on his shoes. 

“I almost forgot,” he mutters under his breath not acknowledging Steve at all.

“Forgot what?” 

“I can’t believe I almost forgot.” 

“Eddie,” Steve says a little louder, more adamant.

He does look up at Steve then and almost looks surprised to see him. As if he’d forgotten he was there, as if they haven’t been hanging out for hours. 

“Oh,” he says. “Uhm,” he squints at Steve who waits for him to continue, to explain. He doesn’t.

“Yes?” Steve implores because he would really like an explanation. Eddie had just abruptly stood up halfway through telling Steve about some folklore he’s using in his new campaign, just cut himself off mid-sentence and walked off. Steve doesn’t think it’s especially weird or demanding of him to have questions. 

“Did you have other plans that you just now remembered?” Steve frowns, starting to feel unsure when Eddie still isn’t saying anything. It’s just past eleven at night and Steve doesn’t know what plans those would be but he had showed up unannounced earlier in the evening so it’s not impossible that Eddie had plans that Steve interrupted. 

“No, no, no,” Eddie assures him finally breaking his silence, “it’s- okay it’s a little silly but I read this thing researching and I want to try it.” 

And well, okay then.

Steve raises his eyebrows and waves his hand gesturing for Eddie to go on. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light pink and he resolutely looks somewhere above Steve’s shoulder instead of at him. 

“Midsummer, which is today, is supposed to be this magical night and there are all these traditions and old myths about it.” 

Eddie glances at Steve and he smiles. Tries to show he’s listening and wants to know whatever thing Eddie read about. 

“And well, okay so there’s this one tradition where you pick seven different kinds of flowers before you go to bed and then put them under your pillow and you’re supposed to dream about who you’re gonna spend your life with.” 

Steve blinks, wasn’t expecting that and doesn’t know what to say about it, so, he blinks again. 

“Maybe it’s dumb, but with all we’ve seen magic and folklore don’t seem so far-fetched and,” he shrugs, “I wanna try. And like, it’s close to midnight and I don’t know if that’s a rule but I don’t wanna risk messing it up.”

“It- huh,” Steve frowns slightly and looks at his shoes then back at Eddie. “Yeah alright, let’s do it. Can’t hurt right?” 

His voice is light, like it’s not a big deal and just a fun thing Eddie read about because that’s what it is, isn’t it? But something about it settles deep in Steve’s gut. Makes it feel important in a way he’s not sure he could explain if he tried. Maybe it’s just the fact that Eddie is getting so worked up about the possibility of dreaming about the person he’s gonna spend his life with when Steve maybe a little bit wishes it would be him, but like, only a little. 

Eddie looks at him with wide eyes like he didn’t expect Steve to want to join, like maybe he expected Steve to make fun of him for wanting to do it. But then something seems to switch in him and a slow smile spreads over his face and he gives Steve an exaggerated once over. 

“Looking to find your true love huh, Harrington?” 

“I thought you said it was the person you spend your life with, not the same as true love necessarily.” Steve quips back because technicalities are easier to argue over than answering that question, especially when Eddie is the one asking.

Eddie shrugs. “Different sources say different things, sometimes it’s true love sometimes it’s who you marry.” 

“Well, then I guess we’re both looking to find our true loves?” Steve hedges, drags Eddie down with him if they’re gonna go there. 

A soft look passes Eddie’s face before a responds, voice quieter. “Guess we are, yeah.” 

They pick their flowers in silence, something about the magic being broken if you speak. Walking around the edge of the woods behind Eddie’s trailer a couple of feet apart, every once in a while coming together or crossing paths. 

After, Steve stands in between Eddie’s trailer and his own car. Holding on to his bouquet of seven flowers unsure what to do. He could go home, he should go home, but he doesn’t want to. He did have some beers hours ago and if he was allowed to speak he’d use that as an excuse to not drive and ask Eddie to crash on his couch. Right now he can’t though so he sighs inwardly and turns to his car. 

He makes it about two steps before a hand reaches out and grips him around his free wrist stopping him. When he turns around Eddie is giving him a look that very clearly says ‘stop being stupid’ and jerks his head towards the trailer silently telling Steve to go with him. He doesn’t let go though and uses his grip on Steve to drag him along like he can’t be sure Steve will actually listen and follow. As if Steve would ever not follow Eddie. 

They quickly get ready for bed. And again when Steve walks toward the couch Eddie grabs him and shakes his head. He waves his arms around a bit like that’s supposed to explain anything but Steve isn’t too bothered about an explanation anyways and easily follows Eddie to his bedroom. 

They’ve shared a bed before but always when they’ve been drunk or high so this feels different. Steve is a little glad they can’t speak or he’s sure he’d blurt out something way too revealing about it all. 

He avoids looking at Eddie as he tucks his flowers in under his pillow, knows Eddie is doing the same next to him. Is aware of it only being an old myth from a region halfway across the world but there’s a weight to it. Something real and tangible. 

He expects it to take a while for him to fall asleep like it always does. For him to twist and turn and lay awake until the early morning. For once though, that doesn’t happen. With the weight of Eddie next to him and to the sounds of his soft breathing and small movements, Steve falls asleep.

And he dreams. He dreams of big brown eyes and bright laughter. Of wild hair and warm arms embracing him. He dreams of growing old next to someone and how every wrinkle on their face tells a story of their shared love. 

He wants to stay in the dream forever, desperately tries to hold onto it even as he floats into consciousness. He turns and groans, gets a mess of someone’s hair in his mouth and nose and that’s enough to startle him into full wakefulness. 

Eddie grumbles next to him, clearly also just waking up. Steve looks at him, with his wild hair and his big brown eyes that are slowly blinking open and of course. Of course, it was Eddie he dreamed about.

Their eyes meet and Eddie freezes. Eyes widening as he looks back at Steve. 

“Oh,” he says. 

And yeah, oh.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, unsure of how to bring it up, to ask about it. If he even should? 

He puts on a teasing smile, even though he feels like goo inside, but making it lighthearted is all he can think of because what if he’s taking this whole thing way too seriously? Jumping to conclusions? 

“Dream of anyone?” 

Eddie nods and looks away, “I did.” He says it simply, voice careful. 

And maybe it isn’t just Steve.

“Who?” He asks, dropping the teasing tone. 

Eddie swallows and looks back at Steve. “The person I wanted to dream of,” he says and it’s not really an answer but he’s looking at Steve so intently he thinks it still might be. 

He thinks about Eddie’s quiet but delighted surprise at Steve wanting to join him yesterday. About Eddie dragging him first into his trailer and then into his bed. How they’re so close on Steve’s side of the bed and Eddie must have drifted towards him in his sleep.

He bites his lip to stop his smile from spreading too wide, there’s still a chance he’s misinterpreting things, “yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And who would that be?” Steve asks, leaning in even closer until he feels Eddie’s small puffs of breath across his face. 

“You,” Eddie whispers but Steve hears it clearly. 

He takes a moment to bask in it, to let it wash over him before he responds.

“That’s good,” Steve tells him eventually and Eddie’s eyes are so wide and open, and so pretty, “because I dreamt of you.” 

He knows it’s cheesy so he doesn’t give Eddie time to respond, just leans in and closes the remaining gap between them. Slots their lips together. Eddie gasps into the kiss, grabs Steve by the hair, and pulls him in. Makes all these cute noises that make Steve want and want and want. 

He shifts, goes to put his leg in between Eddie’s to move on top of him and get a better angle. But he only gets halfway before Eddie grabs his hips and twists them around. Pushes Steve flat on his back and straddles him. 

He grins down at Steve. 

“You think the Scandinavian magic worked or was it just dream psychology and wishful thinking?” 

“Does it matter?” Steve asks, way too earnestly. But like, they’ve just spent this whole time doing some true love magic so he thinks it’s fine, “got what I wanted.” 

“It’s forever though,” Eddie points out, bending down to bite at Steve’s jaw, “if we believe the old Norse people.” 

Steve hears the question there, thinks this might be Eddie’s way of asking what this means to Steve. His way of telling Steve this isn’t just a hookup for him.

“God yeah,” Steve exhales, “I fucking hope so.” 

He feels Eddie smile into his neck and grabs his hair, uses it to pull him back and steer him into another kiss.