#the longer the fic is the better

[sirencholia]

Not to be dramatic or anything but I need fengqing slowburn pining recs preferably w a hint of jealousy and miscommunication RIGHT NOW

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #fengqing #feng xin #mu qing #did i mention i also kin mu qing #the longer the fic is the better #make it happen y’all I’m depressed and single

[smeddiemunson]

(part 1 here) (part 2 here)

Gareth, in a feat of truly impressive self-restraint, lasted all the way through their band practise before asking.

The four of them packed into Eddie’s van. Gareth had ultimate dibs on the front seat since he’d known Eddie the longest, despite being in different grades. 

“So,” he said, breaking the expectant silence. “Steve Harrington?” 

Eddie groaned and let his head thunk against the steering wheel, not even flinching when the horn sounded. “Please don’t.” 

“Nah, man. It’s all good,” Jeff soothed as he leaned through the gap between the front seats. “We’ve not got a problem with it, but Harrington? Really? Not exactly your type.” 

Eddie laughed humourlessly. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Gareth turned in his seat to share a loaded look with the two sat in the back as Eddie started the van. They were planning to find out the all of it.

“And you guys just don’t have a problem with it?” Eddie asked once they were well on the road to Loch Nora. “I know you don’t exactly have the best memories of him from school.”

Eddie tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in a rhythm that didn’t even match the tape that was playing quietly. He was nervous and Eddie hated being anything other than completely sure of himself. 

“You’re right, we don’t have the best memories of him, but the guy saved your life, Eddie,” Gareth reminded him gently. 

It was the worst phone call he’d ever received in his life. He couldn’t imagine getting another one like it. Wayne on the other end, breathing shakily as he told Gareth that Eddie was in the hospital, that he wasn’t waking up but that he was going to be okay and that he thought Eddie would really like it if his best friends, his brothers, were there when he woke up. 

It had been hard seeing Eddie like that, small, frail and paler than usual, no rings or battle vest, no Eddie. Steve and Wayne had been sat at his bedside, both just staring into the middle distance, when they had filtered into the room. Gareth remembered so vividly the sinking feeling that he felt at the quiet. Eddie hated the quiet, he was never quiet. 

And maybe it had been the wrong thing to do, to interrupt Steve and Wayne in such a way, but Gareth knew Eddie. Wayne, for all he tried, never really understood his nephew and Steve was clearly a new development.

So he started talking. He talked about school, about the assignment he was working on, and he talked about the girl that worked behind the counter of Camelot, and he talked about his mom chewing him out for almost crashing her car. Jeff and Grant, who knew exactly what he was doing, picked up the thread when it sounded like he was running out of steam. 

He just couldn’t stand to let Eddie exist like that.

Gareth owed him that much. Gareth owed him everything.

Eddie who had stood on lunch tables and made himself the centre of attention, the target, when Gareth couldn’t fight off the tears after getting an F on his history midterm. Eddie who got them their first paying gig as Corroded Coffin and pushed them all to take their music seriously. 

He joked about them being his sheep, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. 

“Yeah, man,” Grant doubled down. “We can’t hate him anymore. Without him you wouldn’t be here. And you trust him?” 

“With my life,” Eddie confirmed with conviction. 

“Then that’s good enough for us. It’s all water under the bridge,” Jeff concluded. “Now turn that fucking music up, I don’t want to cry in the back of your shitty van, Ed.”

Eddie cracked the music up with a blubbery laugh and all four of them yelled along with Ozzy for the rest of the drive.

The door to the Harrington house was opened before they even got out of the car. Steve stood there, excitement buzzing around him.

"Ed," Gareth stopped him with a hand on his arm before Eddie could scamper off. "Do they know about you?"

Eddie shook his head. "Only Buckley."

Gareth nodded once and jumped out of the van. He was still too short to climb out normally, and at seventeen, he didn't have much hope for a late growth spurt to help him out with it.

“You been waiting for us all this time, Stevie?” Eddie teased as he slammed his door shut.

Steve laughed, stepping out the door with bare feet on the porch so he could accept Eddie’s hug. He didn’t have a shirt on, pink scars on full display, and short yellow swim shorts on. It was nothing short of a miracle that Eddie still had the brain cells to flirt.

“We could hear you guys coming all the way up the street.” He explained as Eddie let go of him. “Ozzy?”

“Oh for fuck sake,” Jeff muttered from his place at Gareth’s shoulder. “How is Ed not seeing this?”

“He had to do senior year three times, dude.” Grant fired back from Gareth’s other side, but still not loud enough for Eddie or Steve to hear. “Steve could plant one on him right now and he’d still find a way to make it a just friends thing.”

Steve, having finally managed to pull his focus away from Eddie long enough to see his other guests, waved them over. “Come on in guys.”

Gareth made sure to share with Steve what he hoped past for a friendly, macho and athletic half handshake as he passed him to go through the door.

“Thanks again for having us. You really didn’t have to invite us,” Grant said, using the good manners his father taught him.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “No way, man. I’ve been trying to get Teddy to bring you guys over for ages. He talks about you all the time.”

“You talk about us, Ed?” Gareth asked with a shit eating grin. 

Eddie pushed at his shoulder, sending Gareth stumbling towards the open french doors. “Yeah and I’ll talk about Tammy Thompson if you don’t shut up.” 

Jeff and Gareth snickered together. They knew all about Gareth’s benadryl induced dream about Tammy Thompson because when he told them he was still half high on the same benadryl.

Gareth huffed but didn’t say anything. He didn’t doubt that Eddie would follow through with his threat if pushed. 

Out in the garden, it seemed that the party was already in full swing. There were scattered cans, Robin and Nancy were giggling together at something, and s portable stereo playing The Cure. 

Steve smiled shyly. “We got started without you.” 

His voice seemed to draw the attention of the other four people. They all stopped in the middle of their conversations. 

“Whoa, dude,” The guy with long hair that Gareth didn’t recognise said to break the silence. “Your cult looks super culty.” 

Gareth froze. Jeff and Grant did too. 

But Eddie, determined to always surprise them, just laughed. “Not a cult, my man.” He kicked his shoes off by the door (surprising how little care he paid them since he sulked for a week straight when Jeff accidentally scuffed them) and started making his way over to the sun loungers. “This the legendary Corroded Coffin. Gareth, Jeff and Grant.” 

He pointed them out each in turn then shucked off his shirt and started working the intricate handcuff clasp of his belt. 

Gareth pretended he didn’t hear the strangled noise that came from Steve’s throat. 

“And guys, this is Argyle. You know everyone else.” 

Gareth waved politely but awkwardly and it was returned by a chorus of ‘hello’s.

Once Eddie had divested himself of his jeans, the black swim shorts he had forced underneath them sitting starkly against his pale skin, he dipped back in his jeans pocket to pull out two perfectly rolled joints.

“I brought party favours!” He waved them in front of Argyle’s face how he would sometimes play with the stray cats that skulked around Forest Hills.

Grant groaned. “Eddie, you know I can’t afford weed right now.” 

Eddie scoffed at him. “These’s ones are on the house, Ad-Grant-age. This is a party after all.” 

Steve, somehow having forced himself out of the trace that Eddie’s torso had put him in, was the first to start moving. “You guys can change inside if you want. There’s bedrooms upstairs or the bathroom just past the kitchen. I’ll get some more drinks. Can we switch this tape?” 

The rambling did nothing to hide the redness of his cheeks. If anything it just brought more attention to them. 

“Your tapes are shit, Steveo,” Robin informed him happily. “But this one is also awful, so yes I will change it just for you.” She ignored Jonathan’s annoyed hey and beckoned Steve to follow her. 

Eddie settled on the sun lounger next to Argyle, already having pulled a lighter from somewhere. 

Gareth took that as his cue to drag Jeff and Grant inside to change. 

Jeff, as soon as they were out of hearing range, asked, “When has Eddie ever given us free weed?” 

Gareth shook his head. “I’ve known about this crush for less than a week and I’m already tired of it. We have to do something to get them together.” 

Grant narrowed his eyes. “You already have a plan, don’t you?”

He pushed them both towards the bathroom. “Get changed, our work starts today.”

(part 4)

#steddie #eddie munson #gareth emerson #steve harrington #corroded coffin #bit of a longer one but Gareth was having feelings and i needed to let him have his feelings #pool party/ operation get steve and eddie together planning party next part #again if you asked to be tagged; i don't do that because it makes me anxious and i wouldn't write anything #so figured it was better to write the stuff and not tag people than force myself into anxiety and never post anything again :) #my fic

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

#tumblr polls #hrmm... a little poll perhaps.. about a subject I find interesting.. since this image came across my facebook today #still really not feeling that well. no longer shaking violently and such but I still feel weird and weak much more than usual #They did say my markers for like infection or inflammation were elevated but that they werent sure of the cause so hopefully #it's nothing too serious. they did also say a lot of different things can cause that thing to be higher than normal but didn't go into spec #fics of what. maybe some of them are relatively benign or something. I still havent felt much back to normal since #I got really sick that one time though. I feel fine on and off but then little bouts of feeling weird and sick happen. hrmmm #ANYWAY.. looking for small ways to be productive. such as little doodles on evil ipad or editing game videos #or posting polls or cat pictures or some other like not very labor intensive things #I WISH I COULD FOCUS on writing HHRGGhh... I need to finish my game.. it would be so freeing.. a project that's been looming #over my head for like 5 years even though througouht that 5yrs I've probably spent a total of 3 months working on it lo.. ANYWAY #I still partially really cannot beleive that people CAN see stuff in their heads. There's always part of me that's thinking like. well mayb #e everyone DOES see the same exact thing but we just describe/conceptualize it so differently that we think we're talking about #different things when we're really not. But I have been assured by people I've talked to about it that they can GENUINELY really see #stuff in their heads like as vivid as an actual picture in real life or something. And the other senses are neat too. Like for exmaple I #can hear in my head much better than I can see imagery. I still CANNOT hear vividly like as if I were listening to actual music out loud.. #but I think it's developed more than my sight. AND interesting how this varies the creative process. a friend I was talking to on the phone #said they write by literally just watching stuff play before them like a movie. where my process is COMPLETELY different. AND that affects #the content/what details we focus on as well as our individual styles of writing have differences that can be traced back to that.. hrmm

[bleh1bleh2]

I'm thinking about keith and how he grew up as a mixed kid but didnt know he was mixed. But there has to be Some things he did that was more galra

So like. As he grew up his hair got a bit of a purple twinge to it (not super noticeable, but definitely there). He gets very slight fangs. I think purring/growling is so fun in concept (but before voltron the last time he purred was probably around shiro. If not that than his dad. Keith growling is more common)

Also i feel like his dad would have taught him some galra shit he learned from krolia and when keith went to school everyone was so confused about some of this little boys interactions

Anyways voltron time now. Pidge and hunk are like "guys. I swear i heard keith purr. This is crazy" and lance is like "yeah? He growls too. This isnt news." Bc he pays so much attention to his rival 24/7

And when keith joins the blade he sees them do the some of the same shit that he did as a little kid and hes like "oh. It was galra traditions. Thats cool"

#this idea has been in my brain for a couple days and i have no clue how i would draw it without doing like. a multiple page comic #and i did too many multiple page comics for school last semester. there is no motivation to do a longer comic right now #galra keith #keith #voltron #also klance #maybe i would write a fic if i were better at writing. or had more confidence writing

[jedi-enthusiast]

My [completed] CodyWan Fic Masterlist

This is going to be a very long list of all my favorite CodyWan fics that are completed. Later on today or tomorrow I'll make another list for all of the CodyWan fics I enjoy that are currently ongoing/incomplete (because we, in fandom, need to start supporting authors during the writing process instead of only after, but that's a whole other post).

The fics are gonna be separated by Modern AU, Canon-Divergent/Canon-ish, Crack, and Canon But a Little to the Left. Full Disclaimer: this is going to be a very long list, so the triggers and descriptions will be brief--make sure you read the tags and warnings before reading!

I don't know who these authors are on tumblr, so I can't tag them, but I recommend that you guys tag them if you recognize them--because they deserve all the love <3 and I think, especially now, we need to let fic authors know that we appreciate them.

Modern AU

212th Street Coffee by thosewhowanderwithfire 

Cody runs a coffee shop, Obi-Wan comes in frequently with a different members of his friends/family and Cody learns a lot about his crazy life by eavesdropping.

bury me beneath the tree i climbed when i was a child by stormwarnings 

Obi-Wan's family life is messy, to say the least. Cody and his family work as firefighters/EMTs/etc. and Obi-Wan kinda just gets adopted into the family by constantly needing to call the firefighters/EMTs/etc.

Coruscant Story by TyeDyeBoogers

A mafia AU thing where Obi-Wan and Cody are both in different mafia families, but then they date each other pretending to be regular normal people (bc neither of them know they're in the mafia, much less different families), and then a bunch of stuff happens and drama ensues.

TW: Murder, Violence

cradle my name on your tongue by jynx 

Running from an abusive ex, Obi-Wan and Anakin move to a small town where they set up their tattoo and piercing shop. Obi-Wan quickly falls for Cody, the florist across the street, but bad things happen when Obi-Wan's ex just won't give up.

TW: Violence, Abusive Relationship, Drugging, Attempted SA (this doesn't go into detail, but it's still there)

Foreign Affairs by ro_moray 

Obi-Wan and Anakin come to America as foreign ambassadors, Cody is one of their bodyguards. Both Obi-Wan and Cody fall head over heels quickly, and there's some political drama via Maul.

TW: Violence (I think?)

Hey Bartender by Wxlves 

Obi-Wan and Cody both work as bartenders at Dex's, they become FWB, and feelings ensue.

I've Served My Time In Hell by TheSleepingOne (SleepingNebula) 

There's a zombie apocalypse going on and Obi-Wan is repeatedly fucked over by the universe in the form of being forced to spend time around his ex, Cody, and Cody's very protective family.

TW: Violence, Gore

Liminal Beings by ChubbstheFish 

Cody is the lighthouse keeper in a small town with his family. Obi-Wan and his family move into said small town and become close with Cody's family, but it quickly becomes clear that Obi-Wan and his family aren't exactly what they seem--aka human.

Not Denial by spqr 

Obi-Wan is a PI and Cody is the sorry moron who falls head over heels for him after meeting him exactly once.

TW: Violence

Seeker Prospector by brigitttt

Cody is a bounty hunter looking for his father, Obi-Wan is just trying to study dinosaur bones. The two meet, fuck, and then catch feelings.

TW: Violence, Mild Gore (I think)

We’ll Do This Together by MageOfCole 

Obi-Wan and Cody have a one night stand and Cody accidentally gets Obi-Wan pregnant (of the trans variety, not the a/b/o variety). Obi-Wan tries to hide this from Cody and his family, but Obi-Wan's family doesn't know how to mind their own business. Family hijinks ensue.

What…a sleep over? by Wixiany

Cody's family decides to host a party, but he needs to study, so he heads over to Anakin's brother's house to get some peace and quiet. He wasn't ready for how pretty Obi-Wan was.

You Gave Me the World that I Wanted by Legogirl22 

Cody has to take care of his family, so he swears up and down that he won't fall for the cute bookkeeper he keeps seeing. He fails. Miserably.

Canon Divergent/Canon-ish

A Ghost or a Man by smallandangry 

Obi-Wan makes a life for himself on Tatooine, eventually Cody finds him, and the locals get attached to both.

A New Life by cwiptids 

Rex and Echo hear about a clone on Tatooine...guess who they meet and take another guess as to who they're married to.

end of the road by adiduck (book_people)

Obi-Wan and Cody spar before Utapau and make unfulfilled promises.

Glimpse Of Us by fingerstripesofchaos 

Post-Order 66 angst fic, just like...loads of angst. This is not a happy fic at all, it made me cry.

TW: Suicide Mention/Reference

Haven’t Felt Like This My Dear by Bluebellstar

Cody gets a hangover and is a total baby about it, Obi-Wan is very amused.

little white truths by imperiousphasmid 

Obi-Wan gets injured and only family and spouse(s) are allowed to see him...I think you know where this is going.

Made by Walking by piotsa  

After Order 66, Quinlan finds Cody and then Cody finds Obi-Wan.

not dead yet by keylimemagpie (QuickSilverFox3)

✨ smut with emotions ✨

Our children our future (that we didn’t know of) by Feniksiara   

After Order-66 Cody finds out that the Kaminoans decided to use Obi-Wan and Cody's DNA to make Force-sensitive clones...then the Mandalorian dad genes kick in.

Standard Operating Procedures by galateaGalvanized

A mission goes wrong and suddenly almost the entire 212th is in love with Obi-Wan...except, it appears, Cody. Y'all know exactly where this is going.

all the world in my arms by biscuityskies 

Obi-Wan has nightmares after Kadavo, then shit goes to hell on a mission, and Cody worries--also Anakin and biscuityskies' OC Hex are little shits.

where the fields are painted gold by biscuityskies

The 212th end up crashing in the forest, so Obi-Wan and Cody get some "camping out in the forest" cuddles and also banter.

night spar by cabezadeperro (minigami) 

Obi-Wan and Cody spar at night, and there is a lot of tension. Not of the fun kind, though.

chain of command by cabezadeperro (minigami) 

Obi-Wan and Cody are undercover and eventually have to find some way to keep the people tracking them from finding them. If you've watched Marvel, you know where this is going.

In the Treetops by ebw_writes499 

After a mission on Kashyyyk everyone needs to go to bed, which they do...all the way up in the trees.

Caretaker by ebw_writes499 

On Tatooine, Cody gets sick and Obi-Wan has to take care of him. Obi-Wan is a worrier.

Love Despite the Distance by ebw_writes499 

After the war, Cody and Rex comm each other to catch up. Also Cody became a senator against his will.

Overworked by ebw_writes499 

Obi-Wan and Cody both had the same idea and that idea was "sneak off to take a nap."

Compartment Syndrome by elwenyere 

After a bad crash, Obi-Wan is knocked out and Cody is injured. Cody carries Obi-Wan through all the danger while reminiscing, certain that he'll be decommissioned after due to his injury.

TW: Mild Gore? (of the "description of injury" variety)

Good Soldiers by elwenyere 

A story about Obi-Wan and Cody throughout the War and after Order 66, with a happy ending.

Don’t Worry It's A Very High Threadcount by goldleaf1066 

Obi-Wan uses a blanket to warm up instead of Cody and Cody is very fussy about it. It gets a little angsty near the end, but things end good.

And Our Faces Toward the Sun by goldleaf1066 

The War ends and Cody and Obi-Wan share a kiss.

I'll Bend Your Light Around Me (A Sunrise At My Back) by goldleaf1066   

A sweet little story about Obi-Wan and Cody throughout the war, with a happy ending!

Stepping In, Stepping Out by goldleaf1066   

Cody and Obi-Wan take turns covering for each other when they oversleep.

With Both Our Hands Around It by goldleaf1066

Obi-Wan and Cody discuss their relationship while also participating in some extracurricular activities.

Crack Fics

Compulsive Honesty by afoundling 

Cody, Obi-Wan, and some of the 212th get dosed with truth serum and just have to let it run its course.

Fools and Idiots by BehindBrokenWindows 

Somehow everyone gets it in their heads that Obi-Wan and Padme are fucking, and Anakin is not happy when he finds out. We all know who he's really fucking.

Operation “who’s kriffing the General” by Sweet_bubbs 

Everyone finds out that Obi-Wan is in a relationship with someone, but they don't know who--but boy do they want to find out.

Resignation in more than one sense by BitterChocolateStars   

Obi-Wan tries to resign, Mace is a little shit (affectionate) and says no, and hijinks ensue.

Time to Celebrate by Kurosaki224   

Kurosaki's OC just wants to talk to his superiors after the war and ends up seeing a lot more than he wants to.

Rex finds out by The_neurodivergent_nerd   

Exactly what it sounds like.

The Trickster by The_neurodivergent_nerd  

A long dead Sith lord has a great sense of humor.

Canon But a Little to the Left

closed together by numbika 

Obi-Wan is blind AU where Obi-Wan and Cody get stuck in an elevator together.

I Got My Head Checked by frostbitebakery   

Sith Obi-Wan AU where Cody falls in love with Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan changes the course of the War because Cody and his brothers make him realize he still has his heart.

TW: Violence, Self Harm (of the "making a sith" variety)

Marriage in Disguise by bjjones   

Oops! Looks like to make peace with Mandalore, the Jedi will just have to send Obi-Wan to get married to Cody, son of Manda'lor Jango Fett. They totally weren't dating before this.

We’ll Meet Again by little_dumpling

Obi-Wan doesn't become a Jedi Knight and instead works in the MediCorps and becomes a doctor, then he ends up meeting Cody on Geonosis.

TW: Medical Gore (I think?)

What came after by galateaGalvanized  http://archiveofourown.org/works/29595831 

Obi-Wan has gone full Sith and is on Mandalore, Cody and the 212th go to get their general.

#ao3 fanfic #star wars #codywan #fanfic #sw prequels #the clone wars #codywan fanfic #codywan fic recs #fic recs #holy shit this was longer than I anticipated #this took me like 2 hours to put together so y'all better be grateful #possibly triggering

[harmonictechnicality]

Memory Log: Day 52

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 5 here | part 6 here (ao3 link here)

After seeing his ink-smeared biography all over Eddie Munson’s arm, Steve becomes extremely motivated. Obsessed, even.

He assembles a makeshift army. Eddie’s Memory Soldiers, he calls it. Okay - he doesn’t call it that out loud, only to himself (because even Steve is self-aware enough to know how deranged this all sounds).

Steve compiles a ragtag group of Eddie’s friends to nudge his brain along faster. Band mates, theater dweebs, potheads that can carry a tune. All of them bring mixtapes on their visits. After two weekends, there’s already a fuckload of thrashy melodies for Eddie to choose from.

He lets them take the reins on this music-healing plan because there’s no fucking way Steve will be helpful in that department. It means less visits that include his presence, which sort of sucks, but it’s worth it. Worth it to get Eddie back to where he used to be.

Before Steve heads out for one of his morning visits, Robin interrogates him. Asks him the question he’s been ignoring for weeks.

“Steve… not to sound harsh, but why do you care so much?” 

Yeah. Why does he care so much? 

She quickly follows it up with, “I just didn’t know you two were friends now. So I’m just curious, I guess.”

They’re not friends. They’re lukewarm tolerators - tethered together by monster hunting and Dustin Henderson.

They’ve flirted, sure. But who doesn’t? Steve would flirt with half of the leggy cartoon characters that appear on Saturday Mornings if he could. So that’s a weak argument to assume they’re more than just friends. Tolerators. Whatever.

So he lies. To Robin. To himself. Lies so much that it sits in his stomach like motion sickness.

He answers the exact same way he’s been answering since day one:

“I’m just doing this for the kids, Robs.”

He’s pretty sure neither of them are buying that statement. He tries again. Stamps the words onto his confused brain. Considers writing them on his arm just like Eddie might do.

“I’m doing it for them.”

Eddie is always on his Walkman (Steve’s Walkman) now that he has skyscraper of cassettes on his desk. Pretty much every time Steve returns, Eddie is head banging. Won’t stop until the nurses scold him.

Or Steve. He’ll stop if Steve scolds him too.

“You can’t keep jostling up your brain, Munson.” Steve whips the headphones off of Eddie’s ears. “Gonna undo all of our hard work.”

“Our hard work?” Eddie attempts to grab the headphones back. Gives up as soon as their hands make contact. “And who might be included in this our that you speak of?”

“You know…” Me. “The doctors and nurses and your friends.”

“Right.”

This is how things have been going lately. Eddie teases him mercilessly and Steve bats it all away. Doesn’t encourage it for a second.

Which blows so hard because he wants to flirt back. Steve wants to know what Eddie feels like beyond tubes and bandages and hospital gowns. He wants way too much after watching Eddie fall asleep smiling that night. After finding out that Eddie scams his own mind into remembering Steve in technicolor details every day.

But it feels wrong. Deep down, there’s this part of Steve that worries that Eddie only likes the scribbled notes, the good qualities of himself. The non-prickster qualities.

He doesn’t scribble the bad qualities on his arm. Eddie lets himself forget about those every night. 

So it seems wrong. Unfair to let Eddie only remember the good parts of him and take advantage of his weak mind.

Life was a fucking breeze before Steve cared about not taking advantage of people. Shit, he used the world’s biggest advantage-taker before all of this evil wizard nonsense.

“Quiz me, Harrington.” Eddie insists.

So Steve does. Steve goes down the list of questions. Things that Eddie’s memory typically hesitates to recognize. 

Music helps Eddie remember his childhood memories the best.

That’s the biggest discovery they’ve made over the last fourteen days. Tapes that include songs from the early to mid 70’s have the biggest mental impact on his memory skills. Every day, he recalls more moments from his past.

Winter birthday parties. Recess and tire swings. Nineteen chickenpox. A pet hamster named Sterling.

“Can’t believe Wayne trusted you with a living creature.” Steve sneers.

“Never said he did.”

He always gets fuzzy with stuff from the late 70s though. And the early 80s is just a jumbled-up shit show. That’s when Eddie really starts failing his quiz.

“What year did you get the tattoo on your chest?”

“You mean this one?” Eddie pulls down the wrinkly hospital gown, exposing way too much of his collarbone. “Or this one?” He pulls the fabric down even further.

They must’ve finally turned the heat on in this place. Or maybe Steve’s sweater is just extra itchy, scratching his skin all splotchy red. He rubs furiously at the collar, spreads the flush all over by accident. 

His eyes dart up to the fluorescent lights. Away from Eddie’s chest. “Um… the… creepy guy.”

“You’ll sprain your neck looking up like that.”

“Good thing I’m in a hospital then.”

“Okay - seriously, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure.” Eddie snorts. His heart monitor beeps faster. Steve hates that laughing must be a bit painful for him. “And he’s not some creepy guy. He’s a creepy demon. Please respect the body art and get your facts right.”

“Fine.”

Not flirting back makes Steve feel like he could break out into hives. He has a fucking stockpile of pickup lines. He hoards provocative catchphrases like a horny pack rat. Talking is becoming increasingly difficult when he can’t banter back the way he wants to.

“Don’t remember what year I got it.” Eddie admits. “Sorry.”

Steve pulls his focus away from the ceiling and scribbles that down:

Eddie still can’t remember when he got his tattoos.

“Gee mister,” Eddie imitates a very masculine Shirley Temple voice. “Am I failing the pop quiz already?”

Eddie remembers who Shirley Temple is (weird, but okay).

Eddie does a really shitty impression of Shirley Temple.

Steve just keeps writing. Not even writing words anymore, just moving the pen to stay focused. Stay distracted from flirting.

The energy starts to feel swampy and stiff as he continues to give short responses with lifeless enthusiasm. Steve can tell that Eddie is picking up on the weirdness too. 

He’s so fidgety. Drumming his fingers, twisting the one ring he’s allowed to wear on one of his less busted fingers. Bobbing his knees and kicking off his blankets. 

Eventually, Eddie puts his (Steve’s) headphones back on and closes his eyes. A nonverbal surrender. A borrowed Walkman instead of a white flag. Why does it feel so shitty to see that he is just as defeated as Steve?

Once Eddie is asleep, Steve peaks over at his arms.

The notes are still there. Fading, but there.

It shouldn’t jab him in the heart the way that it does every time he checks, but christ. It’s so fucked up.

Slowly but surely, Eddie is gaining pieces of his past, but never his present. Why the fuck is that? Steve is so selfishly pissed about that because he’s a main role in Eddie’s present life. 

He’s the one that’s here most days. He’s the one that listens to Eddie’s rants and incessant complaints. He’s the one that calls the nurses when Eddie is too prideful to admit when he’s in pain.

Steve should be remembered without smudgey reminders and foggy recollections.

Steve should be un-fucking-forgettable.

After an unhealthy amount of moping, he comes up with an idea. Well, Dustin comes up with an idea, actually. Steve bribed him with nougat and R-rated movie rentals to construct a gameplan.

“And you need Eddie to remember your favorite sweater…why?” Dustin’s mouth is full of chewy candy as he asks.

Steve chucks a raisinette at his dumb hat. “I thought we agreed this was a no questions asked request.”

“You suggested that.” Dustin points at Steve. “I never agreed to it though.”

This is the part Steve despises. If he admits it to others, he has to admit it to himself. And while he’s come a long way since that first day with Eddie, he’s not there yet. His pride can only take so much vulnerability before it fractures completely. “Just… I’m testing a theory I have on his newest memories.”

“Right. And what theory would that be?”

That he thinks about me in kissable ways. “That he remembers more than he gives himself credit for.”

Dustin chugs back his soda and scrunches the can in his grasp. “Okay. Well, the mixtape theory is working decently well with older memories, right?

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“So maybe it can work with newer memories too.”

Steve is lost already. “Meaning?”

“Find songs that relate to you.” Dustin shrugs like duh. He must sense Steve’s hesitation, so he sputters back into his brainy explanation. “Think about it: you’re there all the time -”

“Not all the time, but -”

“Shut the hell up. You’re there all the time, so he must remember the essence of Steve Harrington.”

Steve fake gags. “Don’t say essence, that’s fucking gross.”

“Will you stop interrupting? Jesus christ.” Dustin yells, scrunching the soda can even more with his irritation. “Just make a mixtape with stuff that relates to you. Get his current memories to stick with lyrics and shit.”

Steve twists his mouth to one side. Then the other. “That’s…”

“Genius?”

“I was gonna say worth a shot, but sure.” Steve agrees. “We’ll go with your conceited analysis.”

Dustin finally picks up the raisinette from earlier. Throws it back at Steve. “You should be nicer to me. I possibly just solved your dilemma.”

“I should be nicer to you?” Steve tosses the raisinette into his mouth, despite its questionable duration on the floor. “Dude, you’re never nice to me.”

“Yeah, but it’s affectionate hostility.”

“And that makes it better?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Fine.” Steve rolls eyes, offers a hand to Dustin. “Thank you for the hostile affection.”

Dustin accepts the handshake. He’s overly smug about it too. “You’re very welcome.”

Memory Log: Day 53

Right away, Steve determines it’s a Kathy Day. Eddie is a verbal nightmare already, whining about the dead batteries in his tv remote.

“I’ll get Sam to grab some batteries when her shift starts.” Steve reassures the bitchy entity possessing Eddie Munson’s body at the moment.

“Why don’t you just get the damn batteries?” Eddie bites back. “You have legs, don’t you?”

“You have eyes, don’t you? Of course, I have fucking legs.” Steve can play it this game. Doesn’t want to but he can be just as obnoxious if Eddie keeps going with his attitude. “Please don’t pull this Kathy shit today.”

That simultaneously shuts them both up for a while. Steve begins flipping through one of the outdated magazines on Eddie’s desk, avoiding the escalated atmosphere. At this rate, there’s no fucking way Steve is going to bring up his mixtape. Kathy/Eddie will probably smash it. Roll over it with the wheels on his imprisoning hospital bed.

Eddie clears his throat, speaking softer than he did at Steve’s arrival. “You know… you were sort of a Kathy yourself yesterday.”

Eddie remembers Steve’s weird mood from the day before (needs to check Eddie’s arm notes to make sure he didn’t write that down).

“Yeah well… I’m allowed to be the pissy one sometimes.” Steve doesn’t look up. He just keeps pretending to read the fossilized magazine in his hand.

“Whatever you say, Harrington.” There’s another pause. Just as awkward as the last one. Their dynamics today are clashing harder than their music styles. Eddie breaks through the awkwardness once again. “So… what’s on the brain agenda today?”

Eddie remembers their pop quizzes.

Right. The quiz. The quiz that Steve has no intention of administering today because he’s supposed to give Eddie this stupid mixtape. 

And look, Steve is pretty good at avoiding shit - homework and phone calls and extended family members. He’s good at dodging shit too, like the relentless one-night stands that can never seem to take a goddamn hint.

But this situation is different because Steve would clearly like to avoid the potential weirdness of giving Eddie Munson a gift. However, he’s innately aware that this particular gift could be helpful. Maybe more to himself than to Eddie, but who knows? If Eddie gets his memory tank back on track and Steve gets someone that reciprocates his affections? 

The payoff might be worth the weirdness.

“I actually wanted to contribute to your…” Steve gestures apathetically at the stack of tapes.

Eddie looks over at them and then back to Steve. “Oh you mean, Munsonopolis?”

“Boooo.” Steve heckles him immediately for that.

“You think of something better then.”

Steve thinks about this way too hard. “The Ed-pire State Building.”

“Boooo.” Eddie imitates Steve’s heckling.

“Better than yours.”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone with a sense of humor.”

“Brave of you to call that a sense of humor.”

“What can I say?” Steve clicks his mouth twice and does the most douchey finger-gun bit, blowing out the nonexistent smoke from each index finger. “I’m something else.”

Eddie bites down over his lip, hard enough that it goes white for a second. Doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve while he bares down.

“You sure are, Steve.”

Oh shit - did they just mindlessly segue onto Flirtation Boulevard without even trying? Is it really that natural with Eddie? Damnit, Steve needs to get his mind on the task at hand.

“Here.” He walks over, lays the tape on Eddie’s lap.

“Is this another one from Gareth?” Eddie flips the tape over, studies the back. “Cause I already assured him that I remember the concert we went to back in ‘84.”

Eddie remembers one of his closest friends.

“No, this one is actually…” Just fucking own up, Steve. “Well, I made it.”

Eddie’s eyes do that sequin thing again. Almost turn into disco balls. “You made me a mixtape?”

Ugh. “Don’t get too flattered, Munson.” 

“Too late.”

Steve was afraid that might be the case. So he does his damndest to channel Dustin Henderson. Provide a scientific explanation to his crush-driven theory. “It’s just an extension of our little music experiment. Some stuff that will help you remember me.”

“And why exactly do you want me to remember you?” Eddie does the same lip biting thing from before. He bites harder, and the color stays white even longer this time.

Steve involuntarily glances down at Eddie’s arm, giving himself away.

“Oh.” Eddie stops biting his lip, swiftly lifts the blankets over his arms. Hiding what Steve already knows is there. “Look… that’s just -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, really.”

Eddie looks down, nodding in agreement. “Right. But it’s not-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder because he can’t. He can’t listen to whatever Eddie is about to confirm or deny. “It’s okay. I mean it.”

He’s not ready for it, for whatever barricade that’s between them to come crashing down. Steve didn’t bring the proper tools to shield himself from raw emotions or desperate declarations of true feelings. And from the way Eddie goes breathless and tense under Steve’s shoulder-grip, he doesn’t think Eddie has the proper tools for that either.

“So you uh…” Eddie peers down at Steve’s hand. Catches a glimpse then abruptly looks away again. “Do you want me to listen now or…”

God no. Steve releases his grip at that thought. “Wait till I leave.” 

“Got it.”

The rest of the visit goes both fairly smoothly. There are only a few lingering particles of awkward tension left behind. It doesn’t bother Steve, not necessarily. The whole day has been kind of all over the place, just like Eddie’s Literary Behavioral Scale. So this uneasy atmosphere is to be expected.

They talk about movies while Steve packs up his things to leave. Eddie asks about all the new movies that have come out since he’s been in the hospital. Steve tells him to make a list of the ones he’s interested in seeing. Tells him that they’ll have a marathon at his place once they’re released to vhs. Eddie says he knows a guy that sells bootlegs before the vhs release date, but Steve shoots that idea down so fucking fast.

It’s not their usual banter, but that’s okay. At least they're talking. Getting along. Tolerating one another at a lukewarm temperature again.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve is met with the most anxiety-ridden face. Eddie’s whole forehead is covered in wrinkles, like that one fancy dog breed that his next-door neighbor used to have. There’s no shimmer in Eddie’s eyes, no disco balls. It’s all just dull. Fearful.

“Sorry if the arm thing made you...” Eddie trips over his words. He pinches the skin between his eyes, makes his even more forehead wrinkles. “I don’t know what’s the word I’m looking for.. Uncomfortable, I guess.”

“Don’t worry. It didn’t.” It made Steve a lot of other things: gutted, determined, confused, sulky, smitten. But no. Worried did not make Steve’s grocery list of Feelings.

“Don’t forget to tell Sam about the batteries on your way out.”

Eddie remembers bitching about the batteries.

Yeah, Steve’s memory isn’t the faulty one here. Even so, Steve reassures him:

“I won’t forget, Eds.”

Day 56:

Wayne had a couple days off from work and took over Steve’s Wednesday and Thursday shifts in the hospital. It’s probably for the best - especially since Steve decided to do the most high school shit ever, and gift Eddie a fucking bouquet in the form of radio hits and plastic.

He’s breaking out from the stress, just marinating on what Eddie’s thoughts might be of the mixtape. It can’t be good. None of the songs are his typical riffs of eternal damnation or whatever. But it certainly sounds like Steve Harrington in a Speaker. So it better help him picture Steve dressed in the tackiest, most burnable sweaters imaginable, goddamnit.

But like, why is he breaking out from thinking about Eddie Munson? Absurd. All of it. The feelings and the acne. His weird little crush is making him regress into adolescent woes and it’s pissing him off.

After popping the zit and crossing his fingers that it’s not outrageously noticeable, Steve sucks in a deep breath, and heads into Eddie’s hospital room.

“There’s my favorite Material Girl.” Eddie lowers the headphones, smiles bonus-level wide.

Steve’s gulps. His face feels like a fucking toaster. “I take it you listened to the tape?”

“I didn’t just listen to the tape.” Eddie picks up the Walkman and smacks it against the side of his head. “I practically absorbed that bubblegum bullshit. Think some of it is still stuck in my teeth.”

Steve plays along, hoping that his face will return to its usual complexion. “You should see a dentist about that.”

“With what insurance?”

“That’s fair.” Steve slides his hands into his jean pockets. He’s so rigid. “So?”

“So?”

“Final conclusion?”

“Oh, I hated it.” Eddie says bluntly. “In a very stick-that-syringe-in-my-neck kind of way.”

“Shocker.” Steve actually expected a meaner response than that.

“Why did you put so many songs on there that use Girl in the title?”

“Hey - it’s not my fault that all of the rich poster child songs are about women.” Steve gets defensive about that one. Honestly, it’s true. There needs to be more music about wealthy guys with genetically flawless hair. Somebody needs to get on that shit so Steve can have more songs that apply to him.

“Whatever you say, man.” 

“So did it…” Steve is still standing. Hovering a bit. “Did it help?”

Eddie sticks out both of his arms, flipping to reveal his forearms to Steve.

They’re blank, besides the usual tattoos and contusions. They’re as blank as Eddie’s arms can be at the moment. No more Steve Cheat Sheet to be found.

Steve exhales all of his relief. “And you remember me?”

“Remembering you was never the problem, Steve.”

“It wasn’t?”

Eddie shakes his head. “But if I ever allowed myself to forget, I…” He taps rapidly over the Walkman. Steve’s Walkman. “I just didn’t wanna risk starting over.”

“Oh.”

“With you.”

The metaphorical arrow, the one Steve has alway seen on department store Valentines Day cards, goes straight through his chest. Eddie aims the words with you directly for Steve’s heart. Punctures that wall he built up after Nancy Wheeler.

The monitor connected to Eddie is beeping faster again. It’s not like that day Eddie was writhing in pain. No, it’s a different tempo.

It sounds like his nerves are conducting the pattern. He’s nervous. Steve is making him nervous.

Or Steve’s lack of response is making him nervous.

But how does Steve respond? Is this Eddie giving him permission to flirt back again? To keep driving down the detour of attraction, take the scenic route?

Eddie’s heart monitor is screaming, ‘say something, Steve.’

But Steve’s archive of failed relationships is screaming, back, ‘don’t fuck this up, dickhead.’

Steve tries to meet the two in the middle. Say something inviting yet keep it simple.

“So… do you wanna make fun of the shitty soap operas together?” 

Steve puts a little emphasis on the together part, hoping it’ll tame the monitor. Make the tones evenly paced. He lets his hand tap once against Eddie’s arm. Right over his newly blank wrist. So clean. No more scribbles.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to check my schedule.” Eddie teases with his words, sure. But his hand lifts up. Tapping Steve back. Twice. “I’m a very busy man, you see.”

Steve shoves him away, laughing as he does it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re not wrong.”

His monitor is ballad again.

One of Eddie’s (many) doctors walks into the room during their third hour of mocking the Home Shopping Network. Eddie has developed an elaborate backstory that they’re all cyborgs who are taking civilian money to grow their army of killer robots. Steve is surprisingly on board with this theory after the second hour. Some red headed lady twitches her eyes way too much to be human.

The doctor runs a few tests, looks over Eddie’s chart, the typical procedure. However, at the end of the visit, he decides to put Eddie on a new medication for his headaches. 

Headaches…

Steve flips back to that first day he started visiting Eddie. Finds the note he passive-aggressively took back then:

Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).

He fans through the other pages as well. At least two-thirds of them mention Eddie complaining about headaches. How did Steve miss this? How could he be so stupid? He was too busy fantasizing about Eddie’s chest tattoos and making shitty mixtapes, that he glossed over something so significant.

Dustin wouldn’t have missed this. Robin wouldn’t have missed this. Nancy definitely wouldn’t have missed this - hell, she would’ve already cracked the Case of the Missing Memories by now. 

Steve is the wrong man for this job. Not enough brainpower to fix a broken brain.

“Uh oh.” Eddie says. “Where you’d go, Harrington?”

Steve glances up to see Eddie pointing his finger at Steve’s head. “Just.. thinking.”

“Share with the class, please.”

Steve struggles to make his voice sound causal about this. “I should’ve known about the headaches. Paid better attention.”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asks. “Because if you are, we need to work on your delivery.”

“Not joking, no.”

Eddie’s tone is mildly annoyed, still gentle though. “Stevie… that guy gets paid a shitload of money to figure out my problems. Truly - the reason there’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is because it’s going straight into that guy’s pocket.”

Steve snorts. It’s even funnier to visualize because the doctor is kind of short.

“What I’m saying is, it’s his job to have a big brain.” Eddie’s eye contact is sharp. Broken bottle to his neck sharp. “And your job is to be my eye candy. Sit there and look cute while I try to not hack up my dinner.”

Steve’s hearing went crackly at all of the compliments. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

Steve no longer has an excuse not to flirt back. Eddie has his mixtape; his arms are bare. He’s obviously encouraging it, even with the knowledge that Steve is a spoiled brat. He likes Steve, not just the good stuff. Eddie is still willing to pursue this even with Steve’s bad qualities.

So fuck it. Steve is gonna delve into his stockpile of pickup lines. He’s gonna rummage around his hoard of provocative catchprashes. Be the horny pack rat that he was born to be.

“Is the sitting part of my job description mandatory?” Steve leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“Oh, I’m very lenient on that detail.” Eddie’s voice drops lower. “The cute part… not so much.”

“So you’re only keeping me around for what? My great hair? My symmetrical bone structure? My biceps, maybe?”

“Definitely not your humility, that’s for damn sure.”

They share a smile as Steve gets up, inches closer to Eddie’s bed. He reaches out and pinches the sleeve of Eddie’s hospital gown between his fingers. He cautiously rubs it over a few times, waiting to see Eddie’s reaction to this droplet of affection.

Eddie catches Steve’s wrist with his other hand. Mirrors the rubbing motion Steve set in place with the material.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Steve nudges Eddie lightly. “Is this okay?”

And before he can even get a response back, Eddie’s face starts turning grayish-green. 

This happens. Eddie throws up biweekly, so it’s not a big deal at all. It’s just that Steve is usually not laying on the moves when Eddie is about to blow chunks. Honestly, it knocks Steve’s astronomical ego down a few notches.

He probably deserves it.

Eddie is really sick. He pukes three more times, and he starts running a fever after the second time. He’s all clammy and curled into a pillow, clutching it with shaky fingers.

It’s all side effects from the new medication apparently. Yeah, Eddie’s head is no longer splitting open, but his body is rejecting all of the cardboard hospital food.

Steve keeps an eye on him, not that he can do much about it. He gets a styrofoam cup of ice chips so Eddie can chew on it whenever his temperature spikes. He wipes the sweat off Eddie’s temples because one - it’s a nice gesture, and two - it gives him an excuse to be nearby.

The shivering is driving Steve crazy though. He’s so on edge just watching Eddie like this. Eddie keeps making jokes like ‘at least I’ll remember your stupid worried face in the morning’ or ‘damn, my past better be worth all of this.’ And Steve will chuckle halfheartedly each time.

The heart monitor is all jumpy now. Even, uneven, even, uneven. If Steve focuses on it for too long, it starts to sound like he’s driving by a highway collision. A pileup of beeps and tones.

He gets another cup of cafeteria coffee. Hopes the bitterness and chalky creamer will be enough to muffle his hearing. Steer his mind to an empty exit lane.

“What? No coffee for me?” Eddie is under an extra blanket now.

Steve scoots his chair even closer to Eddie’s bedside. “What’s the point? You’d just puke it all up.” He’s pretty lousy at supportive words, isn’t he?

“Aren’t visiting hours almost over?”

“You trying to get rid of me, Munson?”

“Never. Just figured you needed to catch the bus or whatever.”

Eddie remembers Steve taking the bus.

“Robin finally gave me my car back.” Steve conveniently leaves out how he demanded  for it to be returned to him. “So, I’ll stay until they kick me out… if that’s cool with you.”

He places his non-coffee holding hand over top of Eddie’s open palm. It’s sort of instinctual. Doesn’t give his mind a moment to wonder if this is crossing a line. 

Holding hands in a hospital doesn’t mean romance. It never has. People do it all time, no one bats an eye at them either. It’s just a gesture of helpless support. It’s what people do to signify, ‘I can’t heal you with medicine, but I can warm your under-circulated skin just a little.’

But when Eddie’s fingers curl around his own, Steve’s stomach swells like its romance. It swells with hot air, helium maybe. It swells and stays swollen. Stays thermal and full.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to pay my eye candy overtime.” Eddie’s face rushes all pinkish-red. Almost as if he’s trying to combat his blush with humor, but it’s not working. He’s all the colors now. And with or without them, he’s attractive.

“You don’t pay me at all.”

“You got me there.” Eddie shakes a frizzy curl in front of his cheek. A poor effort to hide his flushed face. “I’m a terrible employer.”

Steve traces the grooves of Eddie’s palm lines. Pretends that they form a railroad track. “The worst.”

Once his fever finally breaks, Eddie falls asleep. His body unfolds, his fingers uncurl. It’s a heavy sleep, one that makes him all languid and soft. Any traces of bones are questionable now.

And even though Steve is about to pass out from exhaustion, he doesn’t move his hand from Eddie’s. He’d rather give up his whole arm than move it.

Sam peaks in just before Steve nods off. She lets in the bright hallway light, not too much though. Not enough to wake Eddie. Honestly, not a lot of things wake Eddie up these days.

“Sorry.” Steve yawns. “I overstayed my welcome.”

She shrugs, checks the fluids in one of Eddie’s IV bags. “You know, you can stay the night, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty late… you shouldn’t be driving on the highway at this time of night.”

“Won’t I…” Steve reworks the phrase. Tries to be less selfish about it. “Won’t you get in trouble for letting me stay?”

“Oh no.” She winks. “Because I never saw you here.”

Steve smirks. “Got it.”

“But if I did see you here,” She gestures her head to the door on her right. “I would tell you there’s extra pillows in the linen closet over there.”

Sam deserves a fucking raise. Steve would become a goddamn patron of this hospital just to give her more money. Let the godsend of a woman retire early for christ’s sake.

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve whispers.

“Thank you for keeping him company.” She whispers back. “He’s lucky to have someone like you.”

Steve doesn’t know if that’s true, if Eddie is lucky to have him, but he nods anyway. Gives a gentle wave as Sam heads back out of the room.

He sets the pillow next to Eddie’s leg, keeping their hands connected as he dozes off. Steve falls asleep the same way he used to fall asleep in class. All bent over in his chair, one cheek flattened out on the desk. It’s very reminiscent of that.

Only better because he’s with the guy that makes his chest swell, even when he’s being sarcastic or melodramatic. Even when he’s cobwebbed himself into a maze of cords. Even when he’s bitching about batteries and Steve’s vomit-inducing fashion sense.

Steve thinks maybe he likes the undesirable traits of Eddie Munson just as much as the desirable ones.

And once he’s knocked out entirely, the rhythm of his heart matches the beeping monitor hooked up to Eddie’s chest.

Day 57:

It’s been a long time since Steve has had a decent dream. And this dream he’s in right now? It’s fucking luxurious.

He’s at the hair salon, because of course he is - it’s his home away from home. 

His head is reclining back in that giant sink thing. The one that’s like a soup bowl for hair or whatever. The stylist is shampooing his scalp, scrubbing all of those foamy products into his roots. This is Steve’s favorite part of getting his hair done, he always feels blissed out of his mind afterward.

They keep washing it for the whole dream, digging their nails into his head, dunking water over his hair every so often. It’s downright perfection. A dream he could stay stuck in forever. 

The scenery of the dream flickers out, but the sensations linger as he gains consciousness. His squints both of his eyes open, immediately greeted by too much brightness, too much sunlight. Steve shuts them again, soaking up the remnants of his dream. The hair scratching that’s ongoing even though he’s awake.

Awake.

Steve is awake and can still feel all of that salon paradise. His brain finally wakes up enough to realize it isn’t a dream. It’s Eddie’s hands in his hair, combing it thoroughly.

Fuck, it feels so good too. Steve wonders if Eddie is aware of what he’s doing or if he’s also in that suspended place between awake and asleep.

It doesn’t matter, not really. It all feels way too incredible to care about the logistics. Steve nuzzles deeper into the pillow to hide the happy little hums that keep escaping through his mouth. 

Eddie doesn’t stop. He keeps moving his hand around. Twirling strands and releasing them. Ruffling strands and smoothing them. Massaging the pads of his fingers in all the right places. Every bit of it is dreamy. Better than the dream Steve initially believed to be unbeatable.

Being Eddie’s own personal petting zoo is way better. Miles, light years better. Is there any form of measurement longer than lightyears? Because it’s bigger and better than that too.

Eddie tugs a little harder, just once, but once is all it takes to make Steve melt. He open-mouth sighs into the pillow, hoping the fabric mutes the neediness of it. There’s drool on the pillow and it’s unclear if it’s from when he was asleep or if it occurred just from that one hair tug. 

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice still sounds coated in sleep. “Is this weird?”

Steve shakes his head no, still unable to lift his face from the pillow.

“Should I stop?”

Steve shakes his head much faster. Absolutely not. Stopping should be banished from Eddie’s vocabulary. The word ‘stop’ should be homeless as far as Steve is concerned.

Eddie tugs again, more firmly this time. The tug goes straight to Steve’s dick, which yikes. Humiliating. Yeah, it’s morning and this shit happens, but not this kind of boner. Not one brought on by hair salon fantasies and a metalhead with magical fingertips. This can’t be the reality of Steve’s life right now but somehow, it is.

“I think I combed through all of that cake-up hairspray.” Eddie talks as his hand continues to roam around Steve’s scalp. “Feels like cashmere now, so you’re welcome.”

Steve sighs again, pretty sure it’s much more audible this time because Eddie laughs.

“Embarrassing.” Steve mumbles. That’s all he can muster out without becoming a puddle of humiliation.

“The sounds you’re making?”

Steve nods.

“Oh that is not the adjective I would’ve gone with.” Eddie claws his fingers all the way down to Steve’s neck. “Not even close.”

Steve is all hormones now, all slurred speech and thoughtless words. “So good, Eddie.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie whines, sounds breathier than Steve. “You cannot say my name like that when I’m in a tissue-thin gown.”

Steve wants to sneak a peek, see if what Eddie is suggesting holds any truth. He resists, only because he’s trying to sort out his own tent-pitching problems at the moment.

He gradually lifts his head off of the pillow, back cracking as he straightens his spine out after hours of being shaped like fucking tetris piece. It’s the last thing he wants to do because it means Eddie has to take his hand out of Steve’s hair. But as Eddie pulls away, his knuckles brush against Steve’s ear, awakening this newfound urgency to not let this moment fizzle out.

Steve hops up onto the bed, sitting side-saddle next to Eddie. He looks through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that remind him of shimmery dresses and the backseat of his car on prom night. He looks through to find a reason to stop his actions. Stop his need to touch Eddie’s jawline or thumb over his lips. He’s searching for a reason to stop and finding none whatsoever.

“Do you remember me?”

“You’re Steve Harrington.” Eddie kind of stutters as he says it. “Hometown Slut extraordinaire.”

The nerdy bastard is never going to let that one go.

Steve gives a quiet laugh, leaning in to his impulses. He slides his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, curving around, mapping invisible outlines. A blueprint for his imagination when they’re apart later. “Am I reading this wrong?”

Eddie’s gaze is glued to Steve’s lips as he shakes his head no.

“Good.”

Steve uses his free hand to lift himself up, get closer. Breathing in the same stale oxygen, sucking up the same early morning courage, existing in the same dizzying climate.

He can feel Eddie exhale softly over his skin when there’s a knock at the door.

Steve has never stood up so fast in his damn life. Gets a head rush that’s so overwhelming that his vision speckles out momentarily. 

It’s Sam. Thank god it’s only Sam. But also, screw god for interrupting what almost happened just now. Not cool, sky man.

“Just a heads up,” she starts, shutting the door behind her. “You have another visitor that just arrived.”

Right. It's the weekend.

Steve and Eddie say it in unison. “Dustin.”

Sam hums in reply. “I can stall him for a couple minutes. Give you time to sneak out the stairs that are tucked in the back hallway.”

“You’re the best.” Steve says. “I’ll be quick.”

She leaves, cracking the door on her way out.

Both of them just look at each other for a moment. There’s no time to even discuss the events that just took place. No time to recover the kiss that is already sneaking out the back hallway stairs.

Steve nervously whistles. “So…”

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday.” 48 hours apart seems insane. “Yeah.”

Steve hurriedly makes his way to the door - refusing his horny impulses the opportunity to kick back in and ruin everything. “See you later, Eds.”

Eddie licks over his bottom lip - the one Steve mapped out with his thumbprint. “Later, sailor.”

Um. What?

Steve’s eyes go large. “What did you just call me?”

“Go.” Eddie flashes the wickedest grin. “We’ll talk all about your ocean of flavor on Monday.”

This can’t be happening. “Ocean of -”

“Get out of here already!”

Steve flings himself out of the room, sprinting down the hall. Does Eddie actually recall Steve working at Starcourt? How can that be possible? Steve doesn’t remember seeing Eddie outside of school ever. 

Plus, they’ve never even talked about his job at Scoops Ahoy. Family Video? Sure, that’s more recent. But Scoops? Steve tries to forget just about everything from his time at that seaside shithole.

Goddamnit, this is confusing. The hair foreplay. The almost-kiss. The nautical nickname. Confusing is an understatement. Steve needs to go back to high school and learn a better word for what this is. Confusing isn’t cutting it anymore.

If Steve can make it till Monday without spiraling into a bucket of nerves, he deserves a fucking trophy.

And a kiss on the lips.

Mostly the second option (although a trophy would be nice too). 

#🎶here comes some contenttttt🎶 #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #sorrrrrrryyyyy these keep getting longer and longer #also - this is as close as I can get to a bed sharing trope in a hospital fic #and I hope this helps y'all feel better after the *last* chapter #and if I missed your tag pls reach out and tell me - I'm trying to keep up but my brain is a cluttered place to be in

[sualne]

was checking my emails before going to bed only to find out my endocrinologist casually scheduled an appointment at long fucking last

#described in alt text #my art #he's wearing the agender fit from the transgender skins set i drew a few month back #was checking if anyone left a comment on me fic and found this out like okay. crying for a millions years thank you #idk why this is my celebratory doodle. last summer i restart my rewatch of op cause nothing was changing in my life no matter what i did #sent dozens and dozens of job applications but nothing. kept calling doc without ever getting an answer. so i figured i could spend #the foreseeable future watching one piece and hopefully i'll have an answer before im done! did Not happen! lol. had to wait longer. but no #ive got a job and will see my doc & finally be able to start transitionning. im even getting a tattoo. 〒▽〒 woaw #summer hasnt started yet but its already unimaginably better than last one

[coffeebanana]

For those who write multichapter fics, do you ever struggle with reader expectations? Because sometimes I can't shake the "oh, people will be expecting a certain something from this now." And I know logically that I should just be writing what I want to, that you can't please everyone and that shouldn't be the goal. But I still can't help but overthink on some projects.

#on writing #fanfiction #it helps when i have the whole thing drafted before i start posting #but i never do that because i'm impatient #or in this case the fic wasn't supposed to get longer kasjdbfjf #i also know i'll feel better about the chapter once the draft is finished though

[like-the-rest-of-la]

Happy Little Accidents

The last thing Eddie Diaz expects to come out of his trip to Buckley’s Plant Nursery & Landscaping with his son, is to develop an honest to god schoolgirl crush on the guy who owns the place (and not notice that that is what’s happening for an embarrassingly long time).  

The plan is simple. Get in, have Christopher pick out a couple of succulents or whatever he needs for his school project, and get out without infesting any of the gorgeous plants in the shop with his bad plant karma. 

But then, the first thing he’s greeted with is a hunk of a man, carrying two heavy packs of soil on his broad shoulders. Eddie swears he can see a drop of sweat running down the man’s face in slow motion. His t-shirt looks like it’s one strategic muscle flex away from bursting at the seams and Eddie—Eddie feels nervous all of the sudden. And he’s gaping like a fish. 

“Hey,” Hunk-man says as he hoists the soil on the counter next to him with a grunt, “What can I help you with?”

At least Eddie has enough self-awareness to close his mouth.

Or: the one where Buck owns a plant nursery and Eddie stumbles through his crush (and has no game during all of it)—oh and also, there are a lot of Bob Ross references.

Read on Ao3

(With a banner by the wonderful @theladyyavilee thank you so so so much <3)

#9-1-1 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #911 fox #I cannot believe this fic is finally done #...it's the first longer fic I've written and finished in probably 5 years and it's the first longer fic I've written for this fandom #I am always a LOT more nervous about posting writing than posting my art because... it is a lot harder for me lol #but - just as Buck is telling Eddie in this one - practice makes definitely better so I will continue to expose myself xD #I really hope you do like it... I was very nervous about posting it and Sarah bravely held my hand during this :D #and now I will be going to bed because it is 2AM and I should definitely be sleeping kdjfalkdjklf #okay... #nighty night! #lisa writes #au shenanigans #the buck owns a plant nursery fic 🪴

[not-poignant]

Every now and then I just get the kind of comment that makes me stop working on a fic and just has me going 'how about you write it since you're so concerned with correcting me on this one tiny thing that doesn't matter because it's fanfiction actually'

And like, I do want to work on this fic, but damn, not today.

#personal #i don't know how many times i can tell people #to fuck off when it comes to canon details and palmarosa #but if you ever have the instinct to correct something in palmarosa #just know you're the reason i don't want to work on this fic atm #because it's not at all motivational to have people arguing with me #about the NOT CANON COMPLIANT details in my own fic #like it's tags and author's notes at this point #reading comprehension i miss you #you all get gold medals for knowing the canon better than me #now leave me and my fic and it's very clear “not canon compliant” tag alone #because palmarosa isn't for the people #who want it to be canon compliant #and cannot let it go otherwise #i've just deleted a bunch of comments i will no longer be justifying #this fic to people who just exist to win #know it all contests

[petite-phthora]

This yours?

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 12]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

Somewhere else, in a seemingly abandoned building on the outskirts of the city, a figure shrouded in darkness and wearing a dark cloak plots.

In front of them is a whiteboard. It’s covered in pictures, sticky notes, and illegible texts. Some of the notes thrown about that are legible are ‘fight…’, ‘draw blood.’, and ‘DEATH!!!’.

There’s a crude stick figure drawn in the corner of the board, it’s impaled. Other small doodles can also be found all around the board.

Most of the information and pictures are connected by red strings, like you see in movies.

In the middle is a picture of 2 people sitting on a motorcycle, the arms of the person sitting in the back are around the waist of the person sitting in the front. The picture has some arrows pointing towards it and the people in the picture are very obviously circled.

Though the face of the person driving the motorcycle is obscured by their helmet, the other person seems to be heavily blushing and grinning broadly.

“Yes… yes! That’s it! I know what to do…” They seem to be speaking to themselves.

Quickly, the person scribbles down a barely legible ‘sacrifice!!‘.

They start cackling.

“Mwuahaha!”

It’s an evil laugh they’ve been working on for quite a while now, and they’re pretty proud of it.

However, the effect is slightly ruined when a fly enters their mouth, cutting off their cackling with choking as they gasp for air, grasping at their throat.

A few good thumps against their chest, with some coughing out their lungs, helps them dislodge the fly from their throat and they spit it out on the ground. They take a few deep breaths before straightening up again.

“Curse you” the person exclaims, angrily waving their fist at the fly as it flies away.

---

Bruce’s face gives off nothing as he stares at the streets down below. He’s dressed as Batman, crouched at the edge of a building with Damian by his side as Robin. Spoiler, Black Bat, Nightwing, and Red Robin are further back on the rooftop.

They watch in silence as another group of the Joker’s goons passes by. They’ve been all over the city, wandering around, not doing anything obviously illegal.

They don’t stay in one place and they don’t seem to have much of a purpose. No attacks… No stealing… No smuggling or transport of goods… No, instead they’re inspecting every single inch of the city.

They don’t seem to have any weapons on them. All they’re carrying on them are some flashlights. While most don’t give anything away with their body language or expressions, some seem to give off a bit of anxious energy.

Spoiler claimed she even saw some of them climb down into the sewers earlier and then climbing out again sometime later somewhere else, but this time ‘dejected and stinky’.

One thing seems clear to the Bats.

They’re searching for something… or someone.

“This basically confirms that not even the Joker’s henchmen know where he is. He’s missing.”

“I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing”

“Good… thing?”

“It’s… something. That’s for sure.”

“We don’t know if he’s really missing. For all we know it could be a trap. What if the Joker is hiding, pretending to be missing to have us bring our guard down? Besides, how could he be missing? He’s the Joker. No one’s just gonna kidnap him”

“For all we know he could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere”

“I highly doubt that”

“Everyone, focus” Bruce speaks up, having them draw their attention to him.

“It’s unclear whether the Joker is simply hiding away or missing. Instead of focusing on the why, we need to focus on the where. Missing or not, we need to find him and get him back to Arkham. Oracle, have you managed to find out anything from the footage yet?”

“Nope, still nothing. All the files from the moment he enters Crime Alley are wiped and any attempt at recovering them only brings back corrupted files.”

 “We need Red Hood. Where is he?” Bruce asks.

“He still has his phone on silent and he has removed the trackers and cams. We haven’t placed any new ones on him yet”

“Let’s visit him on his turf then. And keep an eye out for anything suspicious in the meantime. Oracle, try recovering the missing files. If that doesn’t work, go back to the breakout footage. Perhaps he left some kind of clues about his plans or whereabouts behind there.” Bruce states.

“Roger that.”

---

Red Hood has his arms by his sides as he gazes down upon the street below from the rooftop of a random apartment building in Crime Alley.

He’s lucky to have avoided the Bats so far. But he doubts his luck will last for long.

Red Hood stiffens as he suddenly feels something clamp down on his arm. As a reflex, his other hand has already drawn his gun.

He slowly raises the arm he felt something clamp down on and looks at it, only to make eye contact with a girl with black hair and blue eyes who has sunk her teeth into his arm and is now hanging off of it.

The teeth are sharp, as the girl seems to have some small fangs. They’ve gone through his jacket and sunken into his skin.

It doesn’t really hurt all that badly though, probably hasn’t even drawn much blood, and that’s one of the only reasons Jason hasn’t flung the kid off of him yet. Another reason is the fact that it’s a kid.

They both stare at each other for several seconds.

As Jason takes her appearance in, he notices that she seems rather familiar. In fact, she looks like a more feminine version of Danny, or if Danny had a twin.

The person hanging off of his arm looks younger than Danny though, probably a teenager around 13 or 14, if he had to make a guess.

Slowly, he puts his gun away and takes out his phone with his other hand, watching the random girl’s eyes follow his movements. He raises it level with her face and snaps a picture, quickly sending it to Danny and ignoring the girl’s curious gaze while she’s still hanging onto his arm by her fucking teeth.

---

Meanwhile, Danny checks his phone to see Red Hood sent him a message. He opens it and is greeted by a picture of Ellie in human form biting down on Red Hood’s arm with the caption ‘this yours???’

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea   @uraniumwizard    @why-must-i-be-like-this   @griffinthing

#dp x dc #dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dead on main ship #Im wondering how easy/hard it is to guess who the person is #and also yes its supposed to have stereotypically comedic 'evil'/'villain' vibes #the person did that on purpose because they are dramatic and have style #also i aged ellie down a little from how old she *should* be cause i felt like it fit better #If you need a reason maybe she like ages a little bit slower due to being a clone or something idk #oh and i have a question for you all #should i make a masterpost?? #i have like the very first chapter pinned but i feel like a masterpost might be better #especially cause like i already have 12 chapters and the story is only getting longer #damn this story has gone further than expected from a oneshot lol #it all started with me just tinking it'd be funny if like #a character was basically in shock but was still like nah I cant just kiss someone without consent lol #also I said id post like 5-6 chapters and this is still only like 6k :( i really need to write more ;-; #and also if y'all haven't noticed already #all I know of dc is through fanfics and fandom posts #though I really want to start reading the comics #i just haven't really had the time nor do I really know what's good and where to start #so like if anyone has any recommendations for dc/batfam comics they are more than welcome!! ^-^

[ms--lobotomy]

I heard some of you were looking for Kyle. Who am I if not a provider?

Summary: Abbadon wants a companion for the night.

Word Count: 1461

Content Warnings: General 40kness, smut, once my Catholic guilt arc is over it’s over for all of you

Image Credit: @squishyowl

You looked out of the window of your cell. It was the one comfort you had here, and the view was almost beautiful. Silent columns of lightning stretched out between magenta clouds, churning away faster than they ever could on any planet. Iron bars marred the view somewhat, but you had to take what you could get in this strange land. The rest of your cell was pitifully dreary, with a curtain closing off what resembled a restroom and a slab of… something that resembled a bed. You chose not to look at those parts. At least, not now.

You heard footsteps coming down the hall. They were heavy and loud, announcing the presence of maybe two or three members of the Black Legion. You barely turned your head from the window before they fiddled with the keys to your cell, almost ripping the bars off of each other. You recognized one’s speech in Low Gothic, but it took you a few moments to really process it.

“The Despoiler wants a word with you.”

You tensed up. They surely couldn’t mean… No matter. You put one foot in front of the other and joined the three hulking men outside your cell. One of them started to walk off, and another prodded you with his chainsword.

“Move.”

You had no choice but to follow these strange men through the halls of the base. You lost track of where you were early on, going into new and uncharted areas of the base. Granted, you’d only ever seen the prison, so this was not a failing of your navigational skills. You hadn’t time to marvel at the interior despite being confined to your cell for what felt like weeks, you and your captors were walking too fast. You had to slightly jog to keep up with them.

Soon enough, you were upon a large door. You ran your fingers along the intricate woodwork, not having felt varnished wood in ages. Two of those strange men looked down at you as you lowered your hand. Another one turned on his vox machine.

“She’s here,” he said, stepping back from the door. The others did so as well, prompting you to do the same.

After a few moments, the door clicked open. You beheld a man taller than the three around you, the first without a helmet that you’d seen in a long while. He had a long top knot at the top of his head, and his eyes bored into you, unreadable. You immediately looked away, trying not to shake in your poorly put together shoes.

“Leave,” he said as the three behind you turned tail and left, muttering to one another.

He watched them as they left before turning his gaze back to you. “You can come in, you know.”

You looked up at him and slowly walked into the room. It must be his private chambers; it was filled with ornate things that you couldn’t have even dreamed of while in your cell. Your eyes darted from the paintings on the wall to the table and chairs built for someone his size. He walked towards the bed, sitting on it as it slightly gave way underneath him. “Come,” he said, scooting over slightly.

“Why do you bring me here?” you asked, rubbing your upper arm with your hand.

He smirked. “I just wanted a bit of company tonight.” He called your name. It was a bit strange on his lips, but it was the first time someone had referred to you by name instead of number.

Was it night? It was impossibly hard to tell in this space between space. You found yourself walking towards the bed and sitting on it next to him as he took his gauntlets off, then his pauldrons, then the rest of the armor adorning his arms. You couldn’t help but notice rippling muscles as your heart beat quicker in your chest.

“Not like I have a choice in the matter,” you said after a moment.

He chuckled. “If you do not wish to be here, I could grab another.”

“No-“ you interjected before you could stop yourself.

He continued taking off his armor, pulling his breastplate over his head before casting it aside. “Good,” he said. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and you tensed up yet again.

“I will not hurt you, unless that is something you desire.”

You looked up at him. He was looking down at you with… reverence, almost. You felt your face go warm as he took your chin in his hand. His grip was firm, but you could tell that he was holding back.

He let go and leaned down to take off his lower armor, and you watched intently as pieces fell to the floor, softly clanking against other pieces. He looked down at you and smirked once he was finished. It was then when he leaned in for a kiss, pressing against soft skin. You were taken aback for a minute before you reciprocated. He grabbed your hips and turned the rest of you to face him, your legs resting against his waist.

He brushed the sides of your shirt up, fabric gathering underneath his hands. You let out a soft moan before freezing, and he pulled away.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

You slowly nodded. He went in for a kiss again, this time biting your bottom lip. You squeaked, grasping for his body glove. You felt him chuckle against you, hands moving underneath your shirt up your back. He pulled away again, his hands moving to your thigh.

“Take it off,” he barked.

Without hesitation, you pulled your shirt over your head. He looked down at you for a moment, running a hand over your body.

“Good girl,” he said, pressing you down onto the bed before planting his teeth on your collarbone. It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but it was going to leave a mark. You let out another high-pitched squeak, and he made another mark even lower. When he had his fill, he went down to your breast and took your nipple in his teeth.

“Abbadon…” you moaned as he bit you there. That was also going to leave a mark.

“What is it?” he asked before moving to your other side to do the same thing. You yelped, your fingers pressing into his back as he trailed lower. He was kneeling before you when he made his way between your legs, pulling your shoes and pants off and parting your legs with ease. He began to feast, eliciting soft cries from you. He reached places you thought someone could never reach, and before long, you came hard on him.

He pulled away, fiddling with the zipper on his body glove before taking it all off. You looked at him in awe before he pinned you down again, your fingers interlocking with his. He planted a quick kiss to your lips before he rubbed himself against you and you looked up at him, pleading.

“You will have to beg for it,” he said, grazing himself against you.

“Please…” you murmured. “Please put yourself in me. I want you.”

“More than anything you’ve ever wanted?”

“More than anything I’ve ever wanted.”

He put himself in, and you cried out. “You are taking me so well,” he said as he slid in further. You couldn’t form any cohesive sentences in response, so you let yourself cry out. He slid himself in to the hilt and stayed there for a minute, watching your face scrunch up and listening to your little yelps before he pulled himself out to do it all again. He started to go faster, and you felt your eyes rolling back. Here you were, stark naked, stretched out over him.

You came a second time, much more loudly and violently than the first. Abbadon smirked above you, victorious. His hands moved to your wrists as he kept going, and soon you realized how much stamina was granted to an Astartes. He kept you up long into the night before he started to speed up one last time. You were loud, and he stuck a few fingers in your mouth. He grunted something in his Cthonian tongue before he shot his load into you, once, twice, then a third time.

Liquid leaked out of you as he pulled himself out of you for the last time and shifted you fully onto the bed. He held you close to him. You relaxed into his hold as he ran a hand through your hair.

“You will not have to spend another day rotting in that cell,” he said.

You closed your eyes and sleep soon took hold of you. You slept better than you had in weeks.

@kit-williams

#ezekyle abbadon x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #reader insert #ezekyle abbadon #warhammer lobotomy #hes got a yee yee ass haircut but also nice abs so #I know the khan has the same but he wears it better #also ive noticed my fics are getting progressively longer #im gonna write a novel guys. Brb #mating press march

[twinksintrees]

When Chuuya got the call Dazai had vanished from the Port Mafia, he had hung up with a smile.

The fucker did it, he got out. He got what he wanted, and Chuuya was happy for him.

Now, he was free. He could do what he wanted, live by his own rules.

He could grow and heal and do better, be better than he had ever been before.

He didn’t have to worry about Dazai ending it anymore. Now that he was out he knew he wouldn’t throw it all away, not after the years it took to get here.

Chuuya wanted the best for him, and now that he got it, he was over the moon.

Chuuya wasn’t worried about this being the end. Their paths would cross again, they were both too stubborn to let them not. Too tied together, bound by the hip, inextricably linked.

They were double black, afterall. Simply on a break, for now.

#chuuya nakahara #dark era bsd #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #skk #soukoku #bsd #bungou stray dogs #fan fic #drabble #this was going to be longer and like akutagawa was gonna show up and talk to chuuya but honestly i think just leaving it short like this is #better #so enjoy

[stardust948]

3 Inch AU

Prequel to this post

Zuko rubbed his aching eyes, praying what he thought just happened didn't. That a bright light did not flash in the middle of his and Azula's spar leaving his body sore and head aching.

He forced himself to open his eyes and found himself in the middle of a strange spirit forest. Great. First the body switch fiasco now this! Why were there so many spirits hanging around the palace?!

"Nice going dum-dum." Azula spat. "You angered the spirits again!"

"Again?! That was your fault! Both times!!!"

"As I recall, no one knows what angered the last one, but you pushed me onto this spirit and now we're 3 inches tall!!!"

"What?!" Zuko shot up.

Azula pushed the vegetation back revealing an oversized throwing star Mai gifted her. The very one Zuko knocked out of her hand when their spar turned into a messy free for all.

Zuko's heart sank.

"Like I said, 3 inches tall. Thanks a lot."

"None of this is my fa-"

A shadow fell over them seconds before a huge bird swooped down. The siblings barely had time to jump out of the way as the bird snatched up the throwing star. The two shared a frightened look. They had to get out of the garden or they'll surely be next.

A brief silent truce was formed as Zuko and Azula began the trek. Thankfully, they were relativity close to the walkway before they were shrunken. After scaling the huge steps, the ground trembled as a massive figure in deep red robes passed by. The siblings gasped.

"DAD! HELP US!"

"WAIT! DOWN HERE!"

They quickly chased after him, but it was no use. Ozai tuned out their now shrunken voices, assuming it was a chorus of summer insects. And there was no possible chance of the siblings catching up to him on foot.

Azula grabbed Zuko's wrist. "Agni's Arrow!"

Zuko skidded to a stop then spun his sister around. Azula produced fire jets from her feet to build momentum. After counting to three, Zuko released her. Azula shot through the air at breakneck speed straight towards her father.

This better work for they were both done for.

~*~

The palace was quiet. Too quiet.

That alone put Ozai on edge. He swore he heard his children out by the garden earlier. It was just another sibling spat but when he decided to check on them, the garden was empty.

A part of Ozai hoped the children settled things on their own and left without a big fuss. The rest of Ozai knew that was wishful thinking. So, he walked the perimeter just to be sure.

Ozai let out an annoyed sigh. The humming bees were a lot louder today. He'll have to talk to the groundskeeper about that least they overrun the whole garden.

Something landed on his shoulder. Ozai tsked and brushed it away. It seemed the infestation already began.

"Dad!!!"

Ozai stopped dead in his tracks.

"Azula?"

It was so faint. Maybe he was hearing things.

"Down here! Hurry!"

A small blue flame shot from his arm. Ozai glanced down and saw his daughter dangling from his sleeve.

"What the-"

Ozai quickly scooped her into his palm before she lost her grip.

"A-Azula?" Ozai gaped at his now tiny daughter trying to get her bearings. "What... how...?"

His eyes widened. If Azula was like this then...

"Where's Zuko?!"

Ozai lifted his feet as horror gripped him. Cool relief washed over him when he spotted a small figure running towards him.

"Dad!"

Ozai knelt down and lowered his hand for Zuko to climb onto. Now that his children were safe, Ozai calmed down enough for his mind to piece together what happened.

"Don't tell me-"

"Spirits." the siblings answered at the same time.

Ozai groaned. "Not again."

#another random au from my brain at 1 am #yes it takes place in the same timeline as the body swap au #fire palace is probably cursed btw #atla #atla au #3 inch au #bc i can't think of a better name #this took way longer to write than it should have #royal fire family #azula #zuko #ozai #tiny azula #tiny zuko #g/t #giant tiny #atla g/t #ficlet #star's writing #probably won't turn into a full fic #just vibes darling #ok i'm talking too much in the tags now

[artsymephy]

How would modern Philip look like with long hair?

Like the sweet boy he used to be (:

#toh au #the owl house #luz noceda #philip wittebane #emperor belos #modern au #teen Philip #Luz grew out her hair a little too! #because he was embarrassed that he has longer hair than her #also notice she did his eyebrows lol #they’re so sweet together y’all 😭 #though I imagine Philip is a bit of a toxic friend specially after their first meeting in years #he wanted to be normal and the only person interested in him is the school’s weirdo #he would push her away and throw her under the bus at every chance he got to look better in front of his peers #of course he apologizes and amends their relationship but it made Luz pretty distrustful #anyway ughhh I gotta find time to update my fic #it didn’t even get that much engagement but it was fun to write #anyway thanks for the asks! these were really fun (: #everywhen and then

[gt-preys]

Mouthplay

I love the concept of a pred trying to ease their prey into allowing themself to be eaten.

The pred opens their mouth wide, letting little hands feel around. Trailing their palms over the smooth glistening teeth, tracing over sharp canines. Bushing over the tongue with a feather light touch, making the pred shiver and exhale. A puff of warm breath blowing over the tiny.

Small hands holding onto their bottom lip as they lean down to press a kiss to their pred's lip. In turn the pred gently flicks the prey's chin with their tongue. They close their lips over the prey's hands, licking and sucking at them. Shivering at the odd feeling of tiny fingers against their tongue.

They open their mouth to let their prey take their hands back. Gently pushing the prey back to lay down, the pred tracing their finger down the prey's side, gentle hungry eyes gaze down at them. So full of love and awe at their trust. The pred leans down, face hovering above them as warm puffs of air fan over their tiny body. The pred's tongue slips out from between pink lips to drag up the prey's front.

The pred laps at them, soft licks slowly becoming stronger, pressing their body into the table top below. The pred hums at their flavour, they taste wonderful. The pred leans forwards to lick from their torso up to their chin, pulling back to admire the beautiful blush that pools in the prey's cheeks.

The prey leans up to brush their hand across their pred's bottom teeth and in turn the pred takes the prey's arm into their mouth, using gentle pressure to nibble at their arm playfully.

Pulling back the pred moves down, tongue slipping out to scoop the prey's legs up, drawing the limbs into their mouth. They push down, closing their lips around the prey's waist. They hum at the prey's taste, smiling around their body.

The prey watches as their legs disappear into the pred's maw. They reach out to stroke the top lip, smiling as the pred melts under their touch.

Ever so small, yet they hold so much power over the pred.

The pred sits back taking the prey with them, a hand hovering beneath their tiny form. The pred leans completely back, tilting their head back so the prey is vertical. The prey stares down at the pred's blissed out expression as they softly taste the tiny on their tongue.

In one fluid motion the tongue slips out beneath the prey to curl over the top of their head. Lips opening just long enough to draw the prey down between them. Teeth clicking shut behind them. The pred groans at the feeling of their tiny weight resting in their mouth. So perfect.

The pred flicks the prey over their teeth and into their cheek, sucking their tiny form. Righting their head, the pred opens their eyes to look in the vanities mirror. Smirking at the sight of the prey's squirming outline through their cheek. They watch on for a moment, enjoying the feeling of tiny hands pressing to the soft flesh of their cheek. The pred eventually rolls them back onto their tongue opening their mouth, they grin at the little face peeking from between their lips in the mirror.

The prey rolls over onto their stomach to look for themselves. They like the reflection, their pred looks so happy and they're so comfy. The pred's tongue flicks up to lick their face, chuckling at the disgusted look the prey shoots them through the mirror.

The tongue below them bucks and they're drawn backwards as the pred swallows them. Mouth still open, the pred watches as they disappear from their maw. They close their mouth and tilt their head back slightly to watch the bump appear in their throat. They trace it with their eyes as it disappears behind their collarbone.

Delicious.

The pred sighs, satisfied with their little snack as the prey spills out into their stomach. They recline in their chair, patting their stomach softly. "You really hit the spot, sweetheart~" they grin as the prey curls up warm and comfy in their pred's stomach, blushing at the praise.

#v/ore #mouthplay #maw #mawplay #prey speaks #vore shitpost #vore fic #willing prey #willing pred #defo was thinking of B/illy hargrove whilst writing this #the longer mouthplay is drawn out the better #nothing but mouthplay