#pining idiots getting together

[morathicain]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 奇蹟 | Kiseki: Dear to Me (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ai Di | Eddie/Chen Yi (Kiseki: Dear To Me) Characters: Ai Di | Eddie, Chen Yi (Kiseki: Dear To Me) Additional Tags: canon divergence after ep 10, Medical Inaccuracies, close to death, Angst, Regret, Protection, they're insane your honour, and i love them, switching POVs, Getting Together, their communication skills are medium rare at best, they still manage to make it work, Insecurities, Hurt/Comfort, taking care, no beta we die like Thana, inappropriate kissing and making out, while being hurt, Sorry if I forgot any tags Series: Part 1 of Kiseki - Dear to my burning heart Summary:

“Find someone who��ll die for you.”

Ai Di had always known that he might end up being the one but somehow, it still came as a surprise when it really happened.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie survived the Upside Down. The bats. Vecna. And after the hospital, the town recovery, the shady government agencies clearing his name, after all of that, he has the best year and a half of his life. A lot of it is due to Steve and Robin. Well. The whole group of them, really, but Harrington and Buckley specifically.

Except that, you know, he survived extra-dimensional horrors and now he's going to die anyway, brought down in his prime by his devastating crush on Steve Harrington.

It's a stupid way to meet his end. Even worse than going at the hands of a demented telepathic wizard named after a DnD monster. Though...it's not like he didn't see the crush coming a mile away. Eddie may not have any practical experience in matters of the heart, but he knows he likes a pretty boy and Steve is the prettiest of them all.

There is no dimension where his feelings are requited, so he flirts and he pines, and knows it means nothing when Steve matches him quip for quip, touch for touch. He keeps getting himself in these situations where he thinks--maybe--but Steve is straight, constantly goes out with pretty, bubbly girls.

The pining may kill him, but he's determined to leave this world with a little bit of grace.

Until Steve's Halloween party.

It's a whole thing. All the kids, the rest of their own group of young adults, plus the Hellfire Boys, and the actual adults. It's a weird mix, but Eddie figures that, well. It's a family thing.

Halloween is his favorite holiday, one he plans for all year, but this year he decides to take it easy, electing to do a take on the vampire gang from The Lost Boys. The party is in full swing when they walk in, Wayne quickly spotting Hopper and making his way to the kitchen, but Eddie doesn't see Steve in the chaos of kids and Jonathan and Argyle's dual Frankensteins.

He grabs a beer from Robin who keeps giving him this look all knowing and sparkling and he doesn't understand it, not until he hears delighted laughter and shouts in the main room.

Buckley squeezes past him, and he takes the moment alone to close his eyes, brace for whatever fresh, unwitting, torture Steve has in store for him tonight.

He steps into the living room and time freezes.

Steve's in the shortest shorts Eddie's ever seen, thick, muscular, bitable thighs on full display. He's wearing a pink sweatshirt, neon fingerless gloves that very distantly Eddie recognizes as belonging to El, and gold hoop earrings in both ears.

Eddie has to sit down.

Wham! Isn't his kind of music, and he finds George Michael grating because of it, but--he's seen men dressed like that in magazines he steals from bookstores in Indianapolis, had wondered if George Michael was gay too. And now here Steve is, looking like a fantasy ripped direct from Eddie's brain.

Before he can make an escape, someone turns on the Monster Mash. The two Frankenstein's lurch into the room and start dancing. The rest of them are quick to follow, even Wayne and Hopper, after some light cajoling from Joyce, Max, and El.

It's silly fun, the perfect way for Eddie to forget about Steve and the way his ass looked in those shorts. They dance and goof around, and Thriller comes on, so they all try to do the dance, him and Nancy laughing until their stomachs hurt with their stiff-limbed moves.

The song switches to Material Girl, making El and Max screech, and the next thing he knows, Steve is in front of him, shimmying along. It's the closest they've been all night and now Eddie can see the faint eyeliner smudged along Steve's lash line. Something low and hot tightens in his core.

Steve grabs his shoulders, pulls Eddie closer. "C'mon, Munson, even you have to dance to Madonna!"

He laughs through his breathlessness, can't believe he and Steve are dancing together, not with Steve looking like that, somehow innocent, sexy, and ripe all at once.

Their eyes meet and Steve smiles all slow and dangerous, knotting up Eddie's stomach with a wild kind of anticipation. He doesn't have time to stop himself feeling it, can only give himself over to the shrinking distance between their bodies, the way Steve is warm and muscular against him.

Eddie's not hearing the music anymore, unaware of all their friends dancing close by. He's hypnotized by the dark heat in Steve's hazel eyes, lets himself clutch at Steve's hip, drag their bodies together. He feels Steve's breath escape in a quick burst, and it's a crash of cold water.

He disentangles himself, rushes out the patio doors. The night air is bracing as it chills his heated skin, his burning lungs. He takes a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, lighting it with a shaking hand.

That was too much. He let himself feel too much; want too much. Got swept away by Steve in makeup and earrings and tiny shorts. On the street, he hears children laughing, music thumping from a passing car, tries to get lost in that instead of his embarrassment. It makes him miss the slide of the patio door opening again. Doesn't realize he's not alone until he hears Steve say, "Eddie? You okay?"

He nods, but doesn't turn. "Just needed some air." He lifts the smoldering embers of his cigarette before dropping it and stomping it out.

Steve stands close enough that their shoulders bump. Eddie forces himself not to flinch away. "What are you doing out here? You'll freeze." It's not all a deflection.

"I'm fine," Steve says. "Sweatshirt." He wiggles the sleeve in Eddie's face.

"Yeah, but your legs, man. C'mon." He pulls his jacket off his shoulders. "At least cover them up a little."

Steve gives him an annoyed smile, but takes the jacket, trying to settle the leather around his legs. It's kind of a losing battle, but it makes them both laugh.

"I'm sorry," Steve says. "For back there. I shouldn't have pushed."

"Pushed?" Eddie feels like he missed a couple of stairs on his way down. "You didn't--"

Steve runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I did, Eddie. And Robin said," he sighs. "Robin said to just talk to you but I'm shit with words, so."

"So?" He faces Steve now, completely perplexed about where this is going. "I'm the one who pushed too far."

"Of course you didn't." Steve laughs a little. "I wanted to dance with you. I wanted to be close to you."

Eddie takes a step back, nervous smile on his face. "Is this some kind of weird joke?"

"What? No! Why would it be? I'm trying to say that I like you, man."

"Wha--But you're--"

"Don't--don't say popular or a jock or any of that. I'm--you know who I am, Eddie, better than most people."

"I was going to say straight."

Steve stills, blinking. "I told you I was bisexual."

"You did not!" Eddie yelps.

"I did! After went to see The Lost Boys!" He grabs Eddie's leather jacket. "I said I thought Kiefer Sutherland was sexy!"

"I thought you were being hyperbolic!"

"I wore this for you!" Steve wiggles his naked calf in Eddie's face.

"I don't like even like Wham!"

"You stared at a picture of George Michael in this outfit in one of El's Teen Beats for fifteen minutes!"

"I did NOT!" Except now that Steve's said it, Eddie has a pretty good memory of doing that very thing. "Wait. You were trying to seduce me by dressing as George Michael?"

"Like you weren't doing the same with the whole hot vampire biker thing?"

"I didn't expect it to work!"

He doesn't--will never--know who closes the distance first, but they crash together in a clash of mouths and teeth and noses. Steve's hands fist into Eddie's t-shirt, Eddie yanking at Steve's belt loops, until nothing separates them.

The kiss breaks as Steve mouths along his jaw, down his neck, and Eddie's fucking helpless at the turn of events. Never in his wildest fantasies--

"Stay tonight?" Steve asks, voice muffled against Eddie's skin.

"Are you kidding, sweetheart? I'm going to tear these shorts off with my teeth."

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

To all my fellow, “Zukka in the southern water tribe” enthusiasts

[puppyeared]

(guy who has never played cotl) haha au time

[hidingoutbackstage]

Do you see my vision?

[buddie-fic-recs-this-way]

lost control and rang your bell

—if you love technophobe!eddie, this one's for you!

author: I_still_dont_understand_13 | rated: t |words: 4.2k | ao3 link

summary:

"I can't lose him, Maddie."

"Who says you will?" she asks.

"I know him. I know what he'd do," Buck says. "He'd let me down easy, because he's just that good. He'd say we can still be friends, but it'll be awkward and weird, and I can't do that to him."

"You don't even know how he feels," Maddie says. "You're taking his chance to tell you away from him."

Jealousy curls around Eddie's chest like a climbing vine. Buck hasn't mentioned any new crushes. For a brief moment, Eddie thinks maybe he means Tommy, but they aren't friends, not really. Haven't stayed in touch since the ship.

Unless Eddie just didn't know.

"I have to," Buck says, his voice breaking.

"Maybe we shouldn't be listening to this," Chim whispers, like they could actually hear him.

Maddie speaks before Eddie has the chance to say anything. Chim, just as nosy, doesn't leave the app.

(Or, Buck buys Eddie a Ring doorbell and Eddie overhears something he really shouldn't have).

—kels reasons to read—

technophobe!eddie my most beloved

the mutual pining

poor chim; he's so tired (all that man puts up with for these two 🤣)

this was so adorable, especially the ending!

@dangerpronebuddie

[waiting-for-a-sunny-day]

I just finished my Satosugu fic on AO3!!

I took Geto and Gojo from the canon, mid-Hidden Inventory / Premature Death arc and diverged right before Geto's defection.

Satoru and Suguru have so much canonical love for each other that I wanted to explore how to use that love to give them a happy ending in a way that still felt in character for them - despite their own challenges and hang ups. (I tried my best!)

The fic starts off a little silly and has a tiny dash of (S1-level) angst, but is mostly about the depth and layers and ways in which Geto and Gojo love each other. (Honestly, I just hope it leaves readers giggling and feet kicking.)

If you want to read 60k+ words of slow burn Fix-It where Geto and Gojo pine after each other and are disgustingly in love, consider giving it a shot!

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 Contingency Plan by krispy_kream

💙 Contingency Plan

by krispy_kream

M, 8k | 1,5h, Wangxian

Summary: “You’ll still love me when we’re old and ugly, right?” Wei Wuxian asks. “We’ll have each other while everyone else is busy with their kids and their dogs and annoying in-laws.” And Lan Wangji asks, "Why Wait?" Kay's comments: I don't have words, this story was just so incredibly funny and cute and it made me shriek in delight every other line. The absolute peak of idiots-to-lovers, never have I seen the trope written so well! Wangxian truly deserve each other! The way they get married for tax reasons and housing benefits and both just go: but we do this as friends obviously and my feelings will never be returned but that's fine because we're friends :) Just. Perfectionn. Also, the line in the excerpt about living with Wei Ying being like living with a pet is the best line ever period. Also, this story is also available as a podfic!! Excerpt: Living with Wei Ying is a lot like owning a pet. Not that Lan Wangji thinks of him as such, that would be inappropriate, but he demands attention in a similar fashion and Lan Wangji often finds him eating things he shouldn’t, so there are similarities. “I will cook,” Lan Wangji insists when he catches Wei Ying dipping doritos in cup noodles. “What, for both of us? You don’t have to do that—” Wei Ying tries, but Lan Wangji is already ripping open the fridge to keep himself from ripping the cup noodle from Wei Ying’s hand. “I seem to recall a contingency plan that involved me as acting housewife,” Lan Wangji says. “That wasn’t—!” Wei Ying splutters. “I didn’t say housewife.” “Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees with a small twist of amusement. “You used far more words.”

podfic available, podfic length: 1-1.5 hours, pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern no powers, idiots in love, getting together, marriage of convenience, friends to lovers, moving in together, marriage proposal, mutual pining, humor, fluff and humor

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Poll Vote March Mutual Pining Slowburn

Hi readers! I hope your weekend is going well <3

Blinded by Sakuya_Serenity_Kira (E)

Strawhats and Heart Pirates are traveling together after the events on DressRosa, Zou and maybe even Wano. Kizaru pays them a visit and as a result Luffy is blinded.  Now he is not allowed in the sun for days. And where would be safer for the freedom-loving captain than in the cabin of a grim, silent surgeon...?

Storge by Sketched_Ink (M)

“Ok!” Luffy grinned brightly, “You help protect Ace, and I beat up a flamingo? Easy” “Not a flamingo, Donquixote Doflamingo, my adoptive father”, Law tried to stop the venom seeping into his voice. Luffy nodded solemnly, “Ok, I beat up your father, the flamingo, and you protect Ace?��. Law supposed this was the closest he was going to get to total understanding. “Yes”, he ground out.   Or, the self-indulgent Bridgerton-style AU nobody asked for.

The Greatest Adventure by Kaatosade (E) [incomplete]

It was even more absurd to hear Luffy talking about marriage.

I was a God once! by KhepiAri (M)

I was a god once; no one believes it when I tell them now. I had tall shrines, devout followers and piles of offerings. My first shrine was made in the hollow of a tree. It was a little boy who had built it; he had killed a wild boar with a stone, that blood covered stone was my first form. He, along with his mates, he concluded the stone was a miracle. A notorious boar had rampaged around his village for months, destroying their crops and killing three elderly. The boy at the stupid age of 12 had taken matters in his own hand and ventured into the forest after his brothers and grandfather had returned injured. He had no skills and zero sense of self-preservation. With bow and arrows slung on his back, two long knives tied on thin his waist and a spear in his hand; he marched out of home at break of dawn. While his mother and father were busy nursing the injured and grandmother brewed the medicinal soup, he sneaked out. A pining god recites how he fell in love with a mortal. From bickering god and a devotee they become friends, but can god and human be together? Law is a young god and Luffy his devotee. SWITCH COUPLE: LawLu/LuLaw Lawlu Week 2022 day-6

And Like This, We Eclipse the Universe by riverofnara (G)

He knows his name. He knows the lullaby of the ocean and the press of warm sand against his toes. He knows the straw hat on his head is sacred, a treasure of unspeakable value. And he knows that he’s missed Law, a cavernous ache in his chest that would normally swallow one whole, but not here because Law’s presence alone is enough, a gentle balm to dull the pain in increments. - The universe grants two hearts longing for the other a chance to reunite. And even when they don't recognize each other, they don't let the moment go to waste.

Mon Trésor by bimarian (G)

Luffy wonders if Law will get mad once he finally admits it; will Law walk away from him once he lets all these wishes and prayers out in the open? Maybe. And that’s one doubt too many. Ten things that he wants to confess to his ally now that he is already the Pirate King.

Lost and Found by too_addicted_to_fiction (E)

“I’m not here to play hide-and-seek with you, Mugiwara,” Law spat out, hot and tired and annoyed. “I’m here to take you back. I promised your friends." In which Luffy runs away, and Law is sent after him.

When You Hug Me It Feels Like Home. by KhepiAri (G)

Unlike how his family had feared that Luffy would go wild at the first taste of freedom, Luffy was drowned in the first taste of college existential crisis, being good at something practically didn’t mean he was good at in theory. The first three weeks of Luffy’s freedom were spent studying things he had no understanding of. When assignments came another week later, the young student couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and began crying in the middle of the library. Fellow students didn’t make things awkward for him by staring; it was common to find crying first years at every nook and corner of the university. It was entirely different from high school, if you fell no one was going to pick you up, you had to pick yourself up, clean your wounds and keep walking. “Are you okay?” A firm hand gently tapped a wallowing Luffy’s shoulder. “No…” Luffy tried to control his sobs. College AU. Fresher Luffy/PhD student Law. No Smut. One kiss. Law finds Luffy crying in the library, so he offers to buy Luffy a drink and help him out for a while, but he soon finds himself flirting with Luffy, who is a bit slow when it comes to matter of hearts. LawluWeek 2022 Day-8

Why won't you kiss me already? by Katia_Anyway (M)

Luffy is in love with Torao. And he knows Torao loves him back. So why won't Torao kiss him already!?

If You Need Me, I will by BasicallyACat (G)

Luffy can't find the words to describe all the things he feels, couldn't say them even if he found them. He knows people don't understand him usually and doesn't really mind. His nakama understand and that is all that matters. When he meets Law, suddenly there are far too many things to say even when he can't and Luffy prays Law can understand anyways.

The Curious Case of Monkey D. Luffy by lampalot7 (T)

Monkey D. Luffy was cute. This much was known—this was an undeniable, immutable fact. It was also largely suspected to be a ruse of some sort. The squishy-cheeked, beaming face on the wanted posters was largely considered by the more discerning members of Law’s profession to be incapable of the infamous, impossible deeds that Straw Hat Luffy has committed. Or: Luffy is cute, Law has incorrect assumptions, and then a crisis.

If you think we missed a work that you think deserves to be added, don't hesitate to reply with the link or send a message <3

-Mod Raiya

[autisticlancemcclain]

God, sunlight feels so good. Lance missed it. It’s really such a nice way to wake up. Warm sunbeams on your bare skin, a gentle brightening of the room; God, it even makes the room smell better… it sucks so bad that his room in the castle doesn’t have any windows. He’s so glad to finally be getting some now.

Lance shoots awake in a panic.

He should not be feeling sunlight on his skin right now.

He takes a half second to wake up fully, taking in the clean white sheets tangled around his hips, the sterile boringness of the room, the giant window with a sparkly view.

Oh, right. They stopped on what was essentially a Vegas planet yesterday to get a specific part for one of the castle’s reactors, and then he, Hunk, and Pidge convinced Shiro to let them hit the casinos for a bit.

The rest of the night is a blur.

“What the fuck did I do last night?” Lance mumbles, shifting around to stretch a bit. His hip bumps into a lump in the bed — a person-sized lump — and the movement makes him suddenly aware of a soreness in his rear.

His face heats up.

Oh.

That’s what he was doing last night.

Makes sense, he supposes. Drunk Lance is either extremely affectionate or extremely horny, so it was really only a matter of time. He rubs his eyes, then drags his hand down his face. Fuck. He’s gonna have a helluva time explaining this one to the team.

Fuck!

With a renewed panic, he throws himself out of the bed, tripping out of the sheets and looking around desperately for his clothes. Fuck fuck fuck! He is supposed to be on the castle right now!

He finally manages to locate his boxers, yanking them up his legs as he checks his watch. 5:13. Okay, not ideal, but no one’s usually awake before seven, so if he grabs some coffee or something on his way in he should be able to make it without making anyone suspicious —

“Lance, please shut the fuck up,” mumbles a grouchy voice, tinged with sleep, and Lance’s heart drops to his throat.

“Keith?!”

Keith drags himself upright, black hair a rat’s nest around his head, and glares heavily, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“What part of shut the fuck up do you not understand, God, it’s like your voice is actively bashing into my head —”

Lance registers the exact second Keith awakes fully, because his eyes widen and he yelps, yanking the sheets up his chest.

“Oh my God!”

“Oh, drop the fucking sheet,” Lance snaps, face flaming. “It’s obviously not something I haven’t seen before.”

Keith thankfully does let go of the sheet, using his hands to yank on his hair instead.

“Fuck,” he says, turning panicked eyes to Lance. “Oh, we fucked up, we fucked up good —”

“Why, thank you, Keith, that’s oh so lovely to hear from you in this situation —”

“Fuck, we gotta call Shiro —”

Lance abandons his search for pants and lunges towards Keith, yanking the comm out of his hands and throwing it randomly behind him.

“Are you cracked in the fucking head,” he hisses.

“My comm!” Keith cries. He throws off the sheets and stumbles in vague direction Lance threw it, ass fucking naked.

“Put some goddamn pants on!” Lance shouts, whipping a pillow at Keith’s chest and frantically looking away, pretending his did not just get and eyeful and that said eyeful was not an objectively kind of a nice one.

“Piss off,” Keith snaps, face red, but dutifully locates his pants and puts them on before continuing. “I’m calling Shiro now.”

Resisting the urge to tackle the thick-headed dumbass to the ground, Lance forces himself to stay where he is.

“Do you want to be lectured for three straight days?” he demands.

That makes Keith pause. “It won’t be that long.”

“Sure, but then what? He’s going to be mad, Keith. Or at least disappointed. And you know we’ll be assigned the most boring missions possible until he forgets about it, and who knows how long that will take?”

Keith hesitates a moment, then sighs, giving up on his search for his comm and flopping back on the bed.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, face muffled in a pillow. “This sucks. And my head hurts.”

Lance reaches out, pressing his hand to Keith’s forehead — it’s definitely a little hot. Keith groans, wrapping his hand around Lance’s wrist and holding tightly.

“God, your fingers are freezing. Do not move them.”

Despite the situation, Lance smiles, brushing his fingers carefully through Keith’s fringe.

“Let me go. I have painkillers and peppermint oil in my jacket pocket, it should help.”

“Mmf. Fine.”

As soon as Lance’s hand is relinquished, he pulls away, hunting around the mess on the floor for his clothes. He finds his jeans first, but can’t find his shirt — only Keith’s black one, and a white shirt with some text on it.

“Keith?” he calls, pulling it on and tilting his head down to read it. “Why has my shirt been replaced with one that reads ‘SEAT RESERVED FOR DILFS’ with an arrow pointing to my face?”

Keith props himself up his elbows, squints at the shirt, and then winces.

“I may have,” he says reluctantly, “the faintest memory of throwing up on your shirt. So. I imagine you replaced it.”

Lance pouts. “Aw, man. I liked that shirt.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. You are getting me a new shirt that I can wear without getting mocked, though.”

“Noted. What’s the ETA on that advil, by the way?”

“Coming, Mr. Impatience,” Lance mumbles, finally locating his jacket. (Thankfully Keith didn’t throw up on that, or Lance would have to kill him.) He digs around in his pockets, finding the peppermint oil where it usually is, but not the advil. He flips his other pockets inside out, and thankfully the bottle comes tumbling out, along with two slips of paper. He hands to pills to Keith, along with a bottle of water and the oil, and then reads the papers curiously.

His eyes widen.

“Keith,” he says, voice strained, “I have some very good news, and then some very bad news.”

“Good news first,” Keith says immediately.

Predictable.

Lance hands Keith the smaller slip of paper. Keith squints again, harder this time, bringing the paper close to his face.

Lance rolls his eyes.

“Coran had reading glasses made for you, you know. Months ago. How many times have I told them to bring them with you places?”

“I don’t need them,” Keith insists, paper perhaps an inch from his face. “I’m just — hungover.”

“Okay, dumbass.”

It takes Keith a second to read it — really, Lance might start carting around his glasses for him — and then his eyes get just as wide as Lance were.

“That’s a lot of zeros,” he says quietly.

Lance snorts. “Sure is. Apparently we’re very good at card games when we’re drunk. Or very lucky at one game.”

“Apparently,” Keith agrees. He looks back down at the paper, whistling. “You’re gonna have a hard time finding bad news bad enough to beat this, I think.”

Lance grimaces. He glances down at the bigger, fancier paper, then hands it to Keith.

“I really don’t think so.”

This paper is a lot easier for him to read — it would be hard for him to miss the giant ‘CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE’ printed in bold at the top of it.

“Oh, shit,” he says weakly. He glances at Lance’s hands. “I guess that explains why you’re wearing my dad’s ring.”

Lance stares at his left hand in horror, where, on his fourth finger, shines a red stone inlaid in heavy gold — Keith’s father’s ring, that he’s never once taken off his pinky in all the time Lance has known him.

“Fuck!” Lance exclaims, immediately taking it off to give back to Keith. He knows how much that ring means to him.

Only — the ring isn’t coming off.

“I can’t get it off,” Lance says, looking at Keith in a panic. Keith looks back, just as freaked.

“It’s stuck?”

“No, it’s not — it’s not tight, I can move it and my fingers are narrow, but it’s not coming off!”

“How is that even possible?”

Lance pulls on the ring until it hurts, twisting it every which way and shaking his hand roughly. “I don’t know!”

“Here, just — stop freaking out,” Keith orders. Lance freezes, heart pounding. Keith slowly reaches over and wraps his left hand around Lance’s wrist, right hand on the ring. Lance has a sudden, vivid memory of their hands in the exact same position, stood in front of an alien with bright pink hair and dressed like fuckin’ Elvis, because of course they were, only in the memory Keith is sliding the ring on instead of trying to pull it off.

“Okay, that’s weird,” Keith says, finally giving up after pulling hard enough to make Lance wince. “It must be the marriage ritual in this place, or something. Alien magic, I dunno.”

“There has to be something we can do,” Lance says, snatching back their marriage certificate — their fucking marriage certificate, dear God — and reading it over carefully.

“Here!” Lance points out a tiny block of text near to corner, then reads aloud for Keith’s benefit. “Klent City State 347th Union Office.”

Keith sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God. We’ll just explain the situation to them, and boom. Annulment. Problem over, we rush back to the castle before anyone else wakes up, and then we never speak of this again. Perfect.”

Lance nods, swallowing around the sudden bile in his throat. “Yeah. Perfect. Get dressed, Mullet. We have a divorce to attend.”

Keith snorts, rolling back off the bed and digging around for his dumbass go-go boots and jacket.

Once he looks away, Lance allows himself a pained wince, pressing his fingers to his eyes and scrunching his shoulders up to his ears.

“Lance? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lance says, pulling his hands away and straightening himself out. “Just — I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Keith, obviously, does not do that, because he is incapable of following instructions. He presses his hand to Lance’s forehead in a mirror of what Lance did earlier.

“You hungover, too?”

Lance shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I don’t get hungover.”

Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously,” Lance insists. “I drink lots of water when I drink, and besides that, I never really have enough alcohol to get hungover in the first place. I am essentially a toothbrush bristle, Keith. I get drunk off, like, two drinks.”

Keith snorts. “You had a lot more than two drinks last night, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Lance flushes. Keith is remembering correctly. Lance hadn’t even intended to drink last night — he wanted to have fun and be sober — but he’d gotten bored watching Hunk and Pidge demolish the slot machines, and he didn’t feel like helping Shiro and Allura supervise Coran, so he went to go find and bother Keith. Unfortunately, he found Keith leaning close to some guy, laughing brightly, his hand on Keith’s bicep, and he’d tipped back an entire line of shots before he could convince himself not to be a dumbass.

Not that Keith needs to know that. Not that it even means anything.

“I got bored,” Lance says instead, which isn’t even technically a lie. “But, no. I’m not hungover. I’m just — um, it was a big night last night. Lots of light and sound. I’m a little overwhelmed and oversensitive.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

A minute later, something is being placed on his head. Lance looks up in surprise at Keith, who just smiles sheepishly.

“No idea why there is a sparkly pink ball cap with my clothes, but you need it more than me.”

Lance laughs brightly. “Oh, I remember this one! You remember when we were first running away from everyone else? Hunk was on our tail at some point, so I decided to steal your hair band and shoot him with it to distract him. Then you were moping about your hair in your eyes, though, and you grabbed the hat right off some dude’s head.”

Keith’s jaw drops. “I did not.”

“You really did, dude,” Lance says, grinning. “Clean off his damn head. Then you walked off like it was nothing.”

Keith shakes his head at himself, snorting. “Whoops. Sorry, Random Alien Dude.” He pauses for a minute, checking his watch. “Hey, we still have a little over an hour before everyone else gets up. Do you think we can grab some food on the way? I’m starving.”

“Shocking,” Lance says drily, but makes no argument. He could go for some shitty fast food too, honestly. They make their way out of the hotel, both of them wincing at the brightness when they finally make it outside, and head to the nearest brightly lit sign that offers grease and salt.

“Good thing we’re billionaires now,” Keith teases. “We wouldn’t be able to afford this otherwise, because your drunk ass was losing at every game we played.”

“I was not!” Lance says indignantly, but Keith pays him no heed.

“You were so. You only started winning when I was blowing on the dice.” He smiles smugly, poking Lance in the cheek. “You suck at poker, dude.”

Lance huffs, reaching over and stealing one of Keith’s fries as revenge.

“Hey! Paws off! You have your own!”

“You’re being a dick, and you upchucked on my favourite shirt last night,” Lance points out. “I deserve at least half of your fries.”

Keith inclines his head. “Yeah, alright, fair. But if it makes you feel any better, I couldn’t find my boxers and these pants are tight as hell, so I promise I am also suffering.”

Lance eyes, without his permission, glance down at the front of Keith’s pants. He flushes.

“That does make me feel better.”

Because Keith is suffering. That’s why.

…Whatever.

“Hey, by the way,” Keith says, swallowing his last bite of food. “How come you’re limping?”

Lance could smack him. Honestly.

“Why do you think, dumbass?” he snaps. “I’m not…used to this kind of thing. Or whatever.”

It takes a moment for Keith to clue in, but when he does, his eyes go wide and he freezes in his tracks.

“Please tell me I did not just take your fucking virginity.”

He looks so genuinely horrified that Lance can’t help himself, so he rears back and punches Keith in the arm as hard as he can.

“Ow!”

“I don’t buy into that shit, so don’t flatter yourself,” Lance says harshly. “It’s the most dumbass idea I’ve ever heard. So what last night was my first time? It doesn’t — don’t be an idiot about it.”

Keith glares at him for a moment, rubbing his arm — in hindsight Lance could have probably held back a little, he’s definitely going to bruise — but then sighs.

“Yeah, sorry,” he relents. His face turns slightly teasing. “I just — I guess I just didn’t expect that from you, Loverboy.”

Lance scowls. “It makes perfect sense! I bet your first time was some rushed and unsatisfying bullshit on a random couch in an unsupervised room.”

That makes Keith frown, looking at Lance strangely. “There’s no possible way you know that.”

“Of course I know that, because it was the fucking Garrison, man. That’s what everyone did. I have no interest in that garbage. I want it slow and on a nice bed or I don’t want it at all.” He flushes up to his ears, realising what he said. “Or — I did want that. Whatever.”

Keith is quiet for a long time as they walk, and the tension is so thick that Lance almost considers giving up and calling Shiro despite his whole tantrum earlier.

“I hope it was like that,” Keith says quietly.

Lance thinks back to all he can remember last night — it’s not much, but he does remember it, remembers them clumsy and drunk and laughing and affectionate. He remembers how Keith had kissed him softly, pressed him gently into the mattress, how the skin of his hands had been rough under his gloves, tangled with Lance’s beside his head. He remembers how Lance’s ring — Keith’s ring, Keith’s ring, they’re not really married — had glittered in the dim light of the room, how the same soft glow had been reflected in Keith’s indigo eyes. He remembers feeling so loved his chest hurt with it.

But Keith doesn’t remember — ‘I hope it was like that’, he’d said. He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter, anyway.

“I don’t remember,” Lance lies. The words burn his mouth.

Both of them are quiet. Bitterly, Lance wonders if their relationship is ever going to be the same, or if everything they’ve ever built is ruined. If Lance ruined everything. Fuck, and he and Keith worked so hard, too. They both put so much fucking effort into their relationship. And Lance cherishes it — he really does. He likes having someone who’s just as competitive as him, grinning at him as they train, teasing and taunting as they spar. He likes having someone to look just as lost and confused with when Hunk and Pidge start talking tech. He likes having someone who will strike goofy superhero poses behind Shiro’s back whenever the man says something particularly Captain-America-ish. He likes having someone sit carefully next to him on the observation deck on bad nights, asking him to tell stories of his family to ease the hurt.

He likes being Keith’s friend. He hates that he ruined it with his stupid, stupid feelings. He should’ve just let Keith flirt with the alien dude. He should’ve stuck with Hunk and Pidge. Hell, he should’ve let Hunk bust out the Drunk Lance Backpack Leash —

He startles when a warm hand grabs his, tangling their fingers together.

“Keith?”

“Alien marriage magic,” Keith says, looking straight ahead.

“Huh?“

“I keep getting — urges,” Keith explains. His cheeks are red. “I keep wanting to — touch you, or whatever. It must be the bonding magic.”

Lance swallows roughly, looking away. He should really pull away. He’s only making things worse for himself. He should let go, maybe even sidestep away.

Instead he tightens his grip, and steps even closer.

“Must be.”

Lance can’t bring himself to look at Keith for the rest of their walk. There’s no point in making things even harder for himself, after all. Eventually Keith is going to let go, and their going to get their wrongful marriage rightfully annulled, and Lance is going to give back his ring — not his fucking ring, God, why has he become so possessive over it already? It’s only been one night, and barely! — and they’re both going to go home and pretend this never happened. Just like Keith said.

Except it did happen.

And Lance won’t forget it.

“We’re here,” Keith says quietly, jutting his chin at a flashing neon sign.

“Real tasteful of us,” Lance mutters as he looks at it. Keith snorts.

“Practically a destination wedding,” he agrees. Despite himself, Lance smiles.

Keith lets go of his hand to push open the doors. Lance does a very good job of not crying about it, which is excellent. Point to Lance for that one.

“Hello, there,” greets a woman, smiling kindly. “Come to get married?”

Lance winces. He wonders how he looks at Keith for her to assume that.

He’s taking back that mental point he just gave himself. He does not deserve it.

“Uh, opposite, actually,” Keith says. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “We got drunk and hitched last night? And now my dad’s ring is stuck on his finger. So. We were wondering if you could fix that.”

The woman looks a strange mix of pitying and amused. “Yes, that would be the bonding spell. Interesting that it worked on you both, if you were as inebriated as you say.”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing important,” she says, waving a dismissing hand. “If you wish to annul your union, I can do that for you.”

“That would be great,” Keith says.

Lance says nothing.

“Alright, then. Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”

Both of them do. Lance feels something ticklish and breezy wrap around his hands, and something glows brightly enough that he can feel it even with his eyes closed.

“Now, all magic bonds work on two things: consent, and desire. The breaking of those bonds is very similar. Both of you must envision your ties together, specifically those of marital union, and then use your desire to be unmarried to envision those ties broken.”

Lance squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to envision his bond with Keith. He’s not one hundred percent sure what that means, so instead he tries to picture Keith, just as he is. He thinks of sly smiles showing the barest peek of crooked incisors, of a strong hand on the small of his back when Lance gets overwhelmed, of a gravelly voice whispering ‘I bet they’re waiting for you, Lance, and when you come back to them it’s going to be great,’ of the scent of pine and sandalwood, somehow, even in space. And then he envisions Keith’s panicked face when he woke up, when he saw that it was Lance that he spent the night with. He envisions the steadiness in Keith’s voice as he asked the woman for their annulment.

The glow burns brightly, strong enough to hurt his eyes through his eyelids, and then there’s nothing.

“Did it work?”

“If you both followed the instructions, yes.”

Lance opens his eyes, glancing over at Keith’s expectant face. He swallows the lump in his throat, and forced himself to wrap his fingers around his ring — not his fucking ring — and pull.

It doesn’t move.

“It’s still stuck,” Lance says desperately. He pulls harder on the ring, more and more panicked by the second.

“Shit, Lance, don’t hurt yourself —”

“I’m — I’m pulling, and I followed to instructions, I envisioned the broken bonds —”

“Both of you followed instructions?” the woman interrupts.

“Just as you explained,” Keith says. “Our bond, and then envisioned it breaking.”

She raises her eyebrow. “Hm. That’s strange. I’ve never seen the ritual fail for two willing parties before.”

“Fuck,” Keith whispers, dragging his hand down his face. “This is bad. Did it maybe not work because we’re human? Well, I’m half-human, but still.”

“We’re a largely tourist-oriented planet,” the woman explains. “Most people who come to this office are not native here. There is no reason your species should have affected the spell.”

“Yeah, I get that, but humans have never been to space before, so maybe —”

“It’s my fault,” Lance blurts. He shrinks back at their questioning looks. He looks down at his hands, twisting his ring — fuck — around his finger.

“Lance?“ Keith asks quietly.

“I don’t want to get divorced,” Lance admits. He’s ashamed to feel tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not fair, I’ll try to ignore it, but —” He looks down at his feet, voice small. “I don’t want to get divorced.”

“Oh, thank God,” Keith says, and before Lance can even process, Keith strides towards him, cradling his face in his hands, and kisses him soundly.

“Wha —” Lance mumbles against chapped lips, confused and scared and unable to shake the hurt built in his chest quite yet. “You —?”

“So long,” Keith whispers, pulling away and then pressing back in again like he can’t help himself. “I — I’ve loved you for so long, Lance.”

Lance feels the tears leak finally from his eyes, dripping onto Keith’s cheeks. “Really?”

Keith pulls away for real this time, resting his forehead against Lance’s and laughing softly. “You have no fucking idea. You’re just — you are everything I’ve ever wanted. When I woke up this morning and saw my ring on your finger I thought I was still dreaming.”

Lance’s hands loosen their grip on Keith’s shirt, resting open-palmed on his chest. “But you wanted the annulment.”

“I wanted you to be happy,” Keith corrects. “I want you to be happy. Ideally with me, but — you were so panicked, this morning. I don’t want you to be tied down with someone you don’t want.”

“I want,” Lance says quickly. “I have — I love you, too. Always. Since the Garrison, probably.”

Keith grins. “Even when we were rivals?”

“We’re still rivals, Mullet. If you think I’m going to stop kicking your ass just because you’re my husband then you’re solely mistaken — oh my God. You’re my husband.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“No, Keith —” Lance pulls away slightly, so he can look up at Keith with the appropriate amount of panic. “What are we going to tell the team?”

But instead of freaking out like Lance expects, Keith is totally calm. Amused, even. He slides his hand down from Lance’s face to his hand, pulling it up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss just below his knuckles, right above his — his! — ring.

“That I went to space Vegas and married the love of my life,” he says. He shifts slightly, turning Lance’s hand to press a kiss to his wrist.

“That I gave him the ring that I got from my father and he got from his grandfather and I’m happy I did.” He pulls up Lance’s sleeve, kissing the middle of his forearm.

“That I don’t regret it for anything, and would do it again in a second.” Three kisses, slowly, one after the other, up his bicep.

“That I look at him and every day is brighter. That even drunk me looked into those gorgeous brown eyes and couldn’t think of anything but being with him forever.” A lingering kiss to his shoulder, then a trail of them to his neck, where Lance can feel him smirk.

“That I got hitched and then spent an amazing night after doing more than just kissi—”

“Okay,” Lance interrupts, pressing his hand over Keith’s mouth and going red. Keith presses a kiss to his palm, eyes sparking in amusement. “I got it, Gomez. We’re telling them the truth. Maybe cool it a little.”

“For now,” Keith agrees, muffled.

Lance shakes, pulling his hand back and looking away. After a second or too he rolls his eyes at himself — why the hell is he holding back? — and presses a another long, lingering kiss to Keith’s lips.

“Ditto, by the way. With — all that mushy shit.”

Keith snorts. “Poet, you are.”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, shut the fuck up.”

That makes Keith laugh outright, pressing their lips together one last time before pulling away. He turns toward the officiant woman, who thankfully looks amused.

“Uh, sorry for wasting your time.”

“All is well,” she says, smiling slyly. “That was the most entertainment I’ve had in a long time. Enjoy your day, boys.”

Smiling like fools, they duck out of the office, giggling as they stumble back in the direction of the castle.

“Shiro is going to give us so many chores,” Lance says brightly.

“So many,” Keith agrees.

“And Hunk and Pidge are going to tease us for eternity.”

“Mhm.”

“Allura too, probably.”

“Most likely.”

“Coran’ll be on our side, though.”

Keith stops, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and dipping him before kissing him again.

“You’re a sappy loser,” Lance informs him.

“You love me so much you couldn’t even pretend to want a divorce,” Keith shoots back.

Lance sighs happily. “Not even a little.”

And God, is he ever grateful for that.

[beyourownanchor6]

rated: t | words: 6.4k | read on ao3

—secret fic is here y’all! this goes out to my wife @monsterrae1 thanks for always believing in her babe…i finished it just for you 😂 happy birthday bestie!! 🥳🫶🏼🩵

summary:

It wasn’t until a few days later when Eddie was doing laundry that he came across Buck’s discarded clothes. He must’ve tossed them in the hamper after his shower, Eddie holding the warn and stained clothing up in his hands.

Eddie toyed with the fabric, clutching it a little in his hands. Buck’s clothes were in his laundry, mixed with his and Chris’, like they belonged, like Buck was a part of their family.

Against his better judgement, Eddie brought the clothes up to his face, closing his eyes as he inhaled. While they smelled awful, reeking of soot, sweat, and blood, they also smelled like Buck, like home and safety. Eddie couldn’t get enough.

��or—

Five times Buck leaves his clothes at Eddie's, and the one time they're right where they belong

tagging squad below: lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

tags: @loserdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @loveyourownsmiilee @monsterrae1 @buddierights @swiftiebuckleyhan @honestlydarkprincess @barbiediaz @spotsandsocks @justsmilestuffhappens @cowboydiazes @djdangerlove @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @jacksadventuresinwriting @stanningsky @wh0re-behavi0r @ronordmann @spaceprincessem @arthursdent @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @wildlife4life @betty-boom @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @pirrusstuff @nmcggg @theotherbuckley @louis-tenn @the-gayest-wug @buckley-diaz-rules @muppetbuddie

[dapandapod]

How I would kiss you

Hello there! Remember this drabble? yes it's from 2022, yes it got finished in 2024! Formatting is a pain on tumblr and i'm tired, but here is soem of the good stuff, pulled out from the fic itself! :))) Read the entire thing on Ao3 here! Please enjoy!

After an hour or so, Jaskier gives up, and is in the middle of changing into his sleeping clothes when Geralt returns. He startles when the door opens, standing shirtless and feeling strangely vulnerable when Geralt locks eyes with him.

They stand there just for a beat too long, Jaskier with his arms still in the tunic he was taking off, Geralt's eyes dipping just the once to roam over his chest. Nothing he's not seen before but this feels different.

"Did you win?" he asks, Geralt finally stepping properly into the room and turning to his own bed and his own pack.

"Two out of three. That last woman had a mean deck."

Jaskier will not pretend to understand the language of Gwent, so he nods and rummages for his sleeping tunic. A soft, worn out thing, a tunic that once was light blue now so faded it looks a soft gray.

When his night time routine is done, Jaskier sits down on his bed and watches Geralt. It's almost tradition, waiting for the other to be properly done before tucking in.

It also gives Jaskier a wonderful view of that wonderful witcher body, dimples on his lower backs, muscles on his shoulders rippling under the skin as he slowly puts his sleep wear on. Very...slowly.

Geralt throws a look over his shoulder, catching Jaskier staring. Normally he would wink, but now all he does is blush and look away.

Fuck.

They talk a little about their traveling plans, about rumors of a nest of foglets two days away. As soon as their laundry is done, they will be on their way. Meaning, there will hopefully be a rare chance to sleep in, despite cruel witcher habits, and as soon as

Jaskier mentions it teasingly, Geralt gives him a fond smile.

This is not good.

They settle into their respective beds, Jaskier's heart aching in his chest. He lies staring up at the ceiling, an echo of yesterday, but without the tent and without the rain.

"You came back early today," Geralt says on the other side of the dark room. "Were they no good?"

Jaskier sucks on his lower lip. Now that Geralt has mentioned it, it’s even harder to stop, desperately wanting it to be Geralt sucking on it instead.

"Not bad. Just..... eager."

Neither says anything for a long moment, and Jaskier belatedly realizes something. Maybe Geralt was slow redressing on purpose. Maybe... maybe he isn't the only one thinking about this so much it hurts.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Jaskier does what he does best. He blurts out what's on his mind.

"I think you were right."

The darknes is quiet, somehow more quiet than before he opened his fucking idiot mouth.

"I'm always right," Geralt mutters, making Jaskier huff out a nervous laugh. "What about?"

Well.

Here we are.

"I think you have me figured out. I would want you to kiss me like that."

Not 'to be’ kissed like that. He wants Geralt to kiss him like that.

He can hear nothing but the hammering in his chest, the blood whooshing in his ear, and he realizes he is holding his breath.

"Told you so," Geralt says, and he really doesn't make this easy for Jaskier, does he?

Bastard.

".....Would you?" Jaskier says quietly, feeling every insecure inch of his heart bared.

There is another silence, and then there is movement on the other side, and Jaskier holds his breath again. Rustling of the blanket, footsteps so quiet, Jaskier is afraid he is imagining it. Then the bed dips as Geralt sits down.

Jaskier can't see much, just the dark outline against an even darker room, but Geralt surely can read the longing on his face, hear his strained breathing, his hoping heart.

"You want me to? Now?" Geralt whispers, and Jaskier nods eagerly.

Hot hands grab his, slowly guiding them upwards. The bed dips again, jostling Jaskier, and suddenly he is straddled, thighs on both sides of his, holding him in place.

"You sure?" Geralt whispers, leaning over him, fingers sliding over Jaskier's palm as he pins them over his head.

"Only if you want it too," Jaskier dares, sensing Geralt slowly leaning over him.

"I keep thinking about it," Geralt murmurs, his breath hitting Jaskier's face. "Just like this."

His grip tightens around Jaskier's wrists, thighs tensing as their weight shifts. Geralt is leaning over him on his elbow, holding him in place.

"Last chance, bard," Geralt warns him, and Jaskier full body shivers.

[hairmetal666]

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

[fromxxthexxashes]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Sophia Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Canon Compliant, sorry yes it is both of those things at once, Gay Disaster Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Mutual Pining, morons to lovers, Idiots in Love, cannot emphasize enough they are stupid here but it's how i like them, Not Actually Unrequited Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Christopher Diaz Has Two Dads, you know all the classics, Making Out Summary:

Romance is a lot easier to write about than it is to put into practice, and Eddie is the world’s most ridiculous living example of that. He can practically hear the kind of jokes that Shannon would make about it, if he ever told her about the books but - he didn’t. And somehow, probably just because he didn’t start writing until after they weren’t living together anymore, she never found out.

  There’s actually only a handful of people in the world who know that Eddie is a writer - and more specifically, that he’s E. Diaz, one of the bestselling romance authors on the market.

or - the one where everything in canon is the same, except eddie diaz is secretly a bestselling romance author, and nobody knows. Yet.

Notes: I love this one so much. It’s one of my favorites. Not enough people depict Eddie as the hopeless romantic that he is. I just love love love it.

[alblondo23]

Alex figures out why Logan keeps "losing" his hoodies really quickly because a) Logan's face does this really cute blush when he bluescreens while thinking of Oscar in his hoodies, while he tries to explain where they keep going; b) he has EYES, he sees the way Logan and Oscar look at each other; c) the pattern of hoodie-losing seems really convenient. So he mentions it in every Williams PR thing, just to see Logan blush and also to get a rise out of Oscar any time they're in a press conference together.

(Of course, he tells the rest of the Twitch Quartet, who all set out to tease and embarrass the rookies a much as possible.)

Anon you are so right for this!

Alex sees an opportunity to cause chaos and he takes it! True eldest brother energy of him. He gets George in on it first (because George has known Logan for years) who is very British about it until Alex finally manages to drag him into the chaos. Charles loves the chaos and laughs whenever Alex teases Logan. Lando never stops teasing Oscar, ever. He sees the heart eyes Oscar has for Logan and conspires with Alex.

Every single time Logan leaves with a hoodie, Alex is at his side saying that he'll make sure Logan can't lose his hoodie. He's the reason Williams even gets the idea of having staff follow Logan to find his lost hoodies.

But Logan and Oscar are still in the pining, he doesn't like me like That™️ stage. They think that sharing hoodies and always looking for the other is just Bro things. The pining is taking over the paddock until finally it all boils over.

Lando manages to trick Oscar into thinking they're late to leave for the paddock. Oscar falls out of bed barely awake, and he grabs the nearest hoodie (at this point all of his hoodies are Logan's) before making a beeline to the car. Alex manages to get Logan to show up at the paddock entrance just as Oscar stumbles in.

Lando and Alex nearly die from laughter as Logan and Oscar stumble through an awkward conversation as both realize Oscar is wearing Logan's hoodie, in public. Logan looks lovestruck, and Oscar seems to finally realize that Logan is in love with him because of the two Oscar would be the one to finally put the puzzle pieces together. Oscar pulls Logan somewhere private desperate now that he's realized he's not alone in his feelings. Alex and Lando fall over themselves as the two disappear then reappear much later on looking rumpled. (Oscar is still wearing the hoodie)

Oscar still steals Logan's hoodies, but this time when Williams ask him where they are, he looks lovestruck instead of bluescreened.

[lockwood-fic-recs]

Angles of Incidence

by jacksparrow589 on ao3

Rating: T | Category: F/M, Gen | Relationship: Lockwood/Lucy, Platonic Lockwood & Co.

Lucy's breathing evened out. Lockwood didn't know where she was asleep or just resting, but he lifted her hand to hold between both of his, propping his elbows on the gurney so he could lean his head against his hands.

Then, without thinking (at least, that's how he'd tell himself it was later), he pressed a kiss to the side of her hand, just under the base of her thumb.

Lucy stirred a little. "Something happened?"

Shit. "Sorry, just getting settled," Anthony lied. He felt awful for it, but neither of them was in any state to have a discussion this would generate. He should never have done it.

"Hmm." Lucy seemed to drift back off.

Anthony sighed. The hardest part of the night was done. They'd get through the rest as long as he was careful. And he was certainly going to be. 5 times Lockwood kissed Lucy and she thought it was just as friends, and one time where it was clearly something more.