#I LOVE YOUR FICS TOO

[tulipsforvin]

i can't believe we're moots i love u and ur fics SOOOO much FJFJJFSJFNDJ stay healthy !!!!! <3

SO REAL ?? TRUTH BE TOLD, I USED TO SEE YOU HALF THE TIME ON MY TL AND I LOVED THE DRABBLES YOU POSTEDD i'm pretty sure i've liked/reblogged tons of your content either from this account or my alt like a year or half a year ago when i was more active on tumblr

[katelynnwrites]

your fics are so fucking good! can’t stop reading the new laura smut lol

thank you 😊

[tadfools]

You guys are commenting on the fics you read right? You’re at least leaving kudos on the Astarion smut and the pairs that have less than 20 fics for them too? You’re bookmarking stories you really like that are still being updated and ones that haven’t been touched in over a year right?

You know that even the smallest interactions are like cocaine to fic writers right? You understand how important a string of emoji hearts left behind on chapter at three am is right?? Right????

You’re treating AO3 like a community and not a content factory….right?

[flowercrowngods]

when ao3 is back up i want all of you to leave comments on the fics you were interrupted from reading, the fics you were looking to find, the fics you were thinking about re-reading, and the fics left open in your tabs for months now.

when ao3 is back up, i want you all to show some love to your favourite writers, favourite fics, or even just the 600 word one-shot that brought a smile to your face that tuesday three weeks ago.

when ao3 is back up i want you all to remember that comments and explicitly voiced appreciation are what keep writers going.

[petricorah]

scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]

[edmeom]

jjk memes pt.13

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19

[marypsue]

So if you follow me (and aren't just stopping by because you saw one of my funney viralposts), you probably know that I've been writing a bunch of fanfiction for Stranger Things, which is set in rural Indiana in the early- to mid-eighties. I've been working on an AU where (among other things) Robin, a character confirmed queer in canon, gets integrated into a friend group made up of a number of main characters. And I got a comment that has been following me around in the back of my mind for a while. Amidst fairly usual talk about the show and the AU and what happens next, the commenter asked, apparently in genuine confusion, "why wouldn't Robin just come out to the rest of the group yet? They would be okay with it."

I did kind of assume, for a second or two, that this was a classic case of somebody confusing what the character knows with what the author/audience knows. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like it embodies a real generational shift in thinking that I hadn't even managed to fully comprehend until this comment threw it into sharp perspective.

Because, my knee-jerk reaction was to reply to the comment, "She hasn't come out to these people she's only sort-of known for less than a year because it's rural Indiana. In the nineteen-eighties." and let that speak for itself. Because for me and my peers, that would speak for itself. That would be an easy and obvious leap of logic. Because I grew up in a world where you assumed, until proven otherwise, that the general society and everyone around you was homophobic. That it was unsafe to be known to be queer, and to deliberately out yourself required intention and forethought and courage, because you would get negative reactions and you had to be prepared for the fallout. Not from everybody! There were always exceptions! But they were exceptions. And this wasn't something you consciously decided, it wasn't an individual choice, it wasn't an individual response to trauma, it wasn't individual. It was everybody. It was baked in, and you didn't question it because it was so inherently, demonstrably obvious. It was Just The Way The World Is. Everybody can safely be assumed to be homophobic until proven otherwise.

And what this comment really clarified for me, but I've seen in a million tiny clashing assumptions and disconnects and confusions I've run into with The Kids These Days, is that a lot of them have grown up into a world that is...the opposite. There are a lot of queer kids out there who are assuming, by default, that everybody is not homophobic, until proven otherwise. And by and large, the world is not punishing them harshly for making that assumption, the way it once would have.

The whole entire world I knew changed, somehow, very slowly and then all at once. And yes, it does make me feel like a complete space alien just arrived to Earth some days. But also, it makes me feel very hopeful. This is what we wanted for ourselves when we were young and raw and angrily shoving ourselves in everyone's faces to dare them to prove themselves the exception, and this is what I want for The Kids These Days.

(But also please, please, Kids These Days, do try to remember that it has only been this way since extremely recently, and no it is not crazy or pathetic or irrational or whatever to still want to protect yourself and be choosy about who you share important parts of yourself with.)

[goldenhypen]

hi there can you recommend me some enha writers please.

hiii OMG YES OFC i love this questionnn

(listed in alphabetical order, also disclaimer, there are sooo many enha writers i wish i could include and still wanna get to know better. this is just who i can think of on the top of my head atm):

@atrirose - seiu is such a legend and everybody loves her works. owns some of the most iconic enha work to exist on this sight 😌🤭

@boyfhee - cae is suchhh a talented writer omg so if you want well written work and good plot or just fun works to read, this is one of the ways i recommend going 😌 she’s also a super fun and funny person so 12/10 recommend 👍🏻

@delcakoo - i literally strive to be ema omg her works are so fun and creative and so well put tgt. i’ve enjoyed reading every single one 😭 missing new works from her (she’s on hiatus rn if you didn’t already know) but i hope she’s happy rn and is doing well <3

@heeracha - (rey imy 🫶🏻) there’s a reason why heeracha is so popular (even tho she’s ghosting 90% of the time 🙄 /j) it’s cuz rey’s works are so genius and so entertaining and creative and cute yet heart wrenching and the slowburn in a lot of her works just has you hooked in a way that is not easy for writers to do but she does so effortlessly 😔

@isoobie - if you want a go to for cute works i def recommend ri <3 also her aesthetic is always on point so 😌 she’s also super friendly and nice. def someone i recommend <3

@jaeyunverse - pls sage has some of the best works on here no joke. her plots are so genius and her works are so entertaining to read and so well written. go check her out fs <3

@jayflrt - one of the first enha writer’s i read for even before starting this blog,,, so you can kinda say it’s thanks to alice that goldenhypen even exists sjsnd and i think that alone says enough 😌

@sungbeam - beam currently isn’t writing for enha (← beam, correct me if i’m wrong djdjdj) but she has a bunch of enha works for you to check out. and i highly encourage you to bc her writing style is honestly one of my favourites i’ve ever found. she’s sooo talented and so hard working 🫶🏻

@tyunni - also such a legend. one of my fav ppl <3 and i’m not just recommending may cuz i’m being biased. no she’s sooo talented with some of the most fun and entertaining works on this site <3 all of her works are a must-read tbh sorry i don’t make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️

and some bonus honourable mentions <3:

@byhees - sooo many cute and fun reads here. every time i read smth from violet i always leave kicking my feet and giggling to myself :’>

@heeliopheelia - ahh carly’s works are so well written and put tgt, enjoyable and (most of the time) fun to read (if not fun then heart breaking,, but in the best ways possible omg) def a writer you need to check out if you haven’t already <3

hope this helps anonnie and to anyone who wants to find some new writers to read from/support! ^_^ <3

[la5pampy]

*Hands you a wild fool*

HE <3

Fool by @venomous-qwille

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

It’s turning out to be a bad day when Jason finds himself stabbed during a drug bust.

It’s turning out to be a very bad day when he starts to feel woozy (seriously, what the hell? It was just a little stabbing) and promptly collapses.

It’s turning out to be a monumentally bad day when the batfamily drop in on his drug bust.

And then the night takes a hard nose dive into catastrophically bad, because whatever toxin that blade was laced with? It’s making his heartbeat slow down into near flatline, paralyzing Jason in the process.

And now he’s stuck listening to his family lose it completely upon finding his “dead” body.

… shit.

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #151

There is a LOT of Iron Man merch out there. One day, Stark Industries comes out with a line of Iron Man themed night lights that look like arc reactors. The marketing? "For kids who are scared of the dark: Iron Man will protect you."

In completely unrelated news, a whole bunch of child abusers across the country have recently been arrested as a result of  anonymous tips to local authorities.

Bonus:

It's an open secret at some point. Teens who are being abused start buying the night lights. Hell, adults start buying them. Charities pop up to cover the cost for anyone who needs it. Kids who are newly safe often send their night lights on to others ("I'm not scared of the dark anymore," they say).

Even with all of this, nobody snitches to the media or government. They all know grown-ups tend to complicate and ruin precious things.

It helps that the night lights clearly can distinguish between different types of situations. Kids whose parents need mental health or addiction support suddenly find they're being contacted by free services that actually help. If ICE is a concern, the people knocking on the door are not cops but immigrant rights activists. Kids who are hungry get food. Families who need housing support coincidentally find it.

"Iron Man will protect you," indeed.

This fic idea was inspired by this post from @fotibrit!!

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

[p4nishers]

no really ALL im saying is if aziraphale was infront of ME and me only and even gave me a smallest amount of attention i would've already confessed right there. wouldn't have taken me 5 minutes let alone 6000 YEARS. nuh uh. especially if he slutted me out while dressed like THAT in 1793 or rizzed me up in 1941. i may be oblivious but im not dumb as fuck and i would've taken THE FUCKING HINT. unlike SOMEONE. ugh if only i was in crowley's place this shitshow wouldn't have taken more than aziraphale's eyelashes to flutter once and i'm done for the wedding is already in full swing oh lookie here a priest appeared completely out of nowhere how odd how mysterious!! anyway we must not waste this opportunity let's just get over w it for completely normal regular reasons YEP!! nothing to see here just a perfectly regular every day wedding !! like come on man atp u gotta blame urself for wasting opportunities like that

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[iloveparkjonggun]

Lookism men x wife!reader

characters included; Gun, Goo and Jake. reader is fem, nicknames(dear, sweetkins, princess etc) , characters are aged up, SFW, fluff fluff AND fluff.

A/N: after finishing lookism, i couldn't stay silent any longer, i HAD to write for them despite literally having no idea how to, i suppose that this is the first time i'm writing something properly, haha. Anyways, have fun reading <3

_____ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚_______

. . . . . ╰──╮Park JongGun╭──╯ . . . . .

Gun aged like a fine wine, you must admit. The day you laid your eyes on him for the first time ever still replayed in your mind, although you wouldn't really admit it. Witnessing with a new student while you were just chasing around your cat was the least thing you expected, and that attidute of his, you didn't expect that either. You were 16 at that time, young and full of life. Life was dready sometimes, that's a fact that no one could never get rid of including you, but who cares? We're here to have fun, and that's how you lived your life. When you gave Gun a slight smile along with a wave for the first time, he just replied with a single glance and turned away. He was odd, you thought. You were familiar with the most of the students in your school, and since he was a new face, you just wanted to greet him kindly. And how did that thug react? Exactly.

That's when that guy, who's name you learned later sucesfully inserted himself in the bad side of you, you could easily tell that he was a delinquent from the way you looked, but still you can't judge a book by its cover, but including that attitude with that presence? yeah, he definetely was a delinquent.

You just had no idea how the time melted so quick, the guy who used to be nothing but a delinquent in your eyes years ago was now behind you, arms roaming around your waist, stroking you as if you were a sculpture while you were just trying to cook dinner. ''Dear,'' you call out, a smile unconsciously appearing in your lips. ''Go take a shower first, you must be tired after work.''

He almost purrs while nibbling on the side of your neck, ''I am. So let me reduce my exhaustion.'' You could feel him inhaling your scent, lips contacting with your skin, leaving several soft kisses which caused you to giggle slightly. ''Alright, enough. Go shower, dinner's almost ready.'' You turn your head, leaning closer to him. knowing what you were up to, he moves his face to the side, his cheek waiting to feel your lips on it. Expecting to greet with his cheek, you greet with his lips instead, tasting the cigaratte at the same time. Damn it, you think. You fell for this move again. The chuckles coming from him while he makes his way to the bathroom only increases the heat of your cheeks. With a sigh, you continue to cook, a smile on your face.

. . . . . ╰─���╮Goo Kim ╭──╯ . . . . .

''Princess!~'' cooed Goo, grinning with his full teeth, seeming utterly excited on whatever he was about to show you. ''Guess what just happened.''

''What?'' You answer, pair of eyes still glued to your phone, which instantly goes noticed by your husband. A frown already on his face, he leans his head to your phone, blocking you from the view of your phone. ''Look at me, not at the phone.'' He narrows his eyes and gives you that pout. You put your phone aside, now your full attention on your needy husband. Resting his head on your lap, he gives you a cheeky smile.

''Guess what day tomorrow is!''

''September 11th?'' You ask, one eyebrow slightly raising as you played dumb.

''Yes it is but, that wasn't the answer i was looking for.'' His lips quivers, before he tilts his head ''Don't tell me that you forgot, Y/N~'' He whines, which was when you decide that it was the time to drop the mask. A chuckle could be heard from you as you gaze down at him.

"Silly. what do you think that i was searching at my phone?''

''Wha- hey, you're just trying to change the topic now!''

''No im not, dumbass. I was searching for places to spend your anniversary.''

''Stop trying to change the to- Oh.'' Hearing those words causes the pout replace with a smile which easily reached his ears. ''Aww, sweetkins!'' In a blink of an eye, Goo was now straddling your lap, throwing his arms around your neck while he buried your head on his chest, rubbing your head on his chest as he hugged you. ''I knew that you didn't forget about it!''

'' 'Course i didn't forget, how could i- Goo get the hell away from me i cant breathe.''

''Oh.'' From his facial expression you clarify that he forgot how heavy and muscular he was for a moment. Now, you were the one on top of him, sitting on his laps as he hugged you, grinning up at you through your chest. ''Better now?''Your hand extends to his blond hand on its own as you smile back. ''Better.''

. . . . . ╰──╮ Jake Kim ╭──╯ . . . . .

You were gazing at the big deal street with your husband, head resting on his shoulder, his hand slowly stroking your waist, keeping you close as the cheerful talks of the people mixed with each other on the background while you both enjoyed each other's company in silence ''How odd.'' You break the silence first, recalling memories. ''Years passed, yet, this street still looks the same.'' Glancing up towards Jake, your smile widened at the sight of the smile displaying on your beloved's lips.

His irises' attention was now on you instead of the street as he smirked. ''How odd.'' He repeated your sentence, ''Years passed, yet, you're still beautiful as you were before.'' lips slightly parting away, you couldn't even reply to that sudden compliment, but your face sure did, which earned a loud laugh from your husband as he brought you closer, while you frowned, eyes on your shoes, attempting to hide your red cheeks despite already being aware that it wouldn't work.

''Damn you romancist.''

[flowercrowngods]

it’s floaty steddie hours

Eddie never knew there were moments that would just steal his breath and not give it back even after they passed, lingering in his mind, his heartbeat, his fingertips, making him wonder if the world is suddenly much bigger than before, or endlessly smaller, reduced only to one impossibly perfect moment.

He never knew. Until he met Steve. Steve, with his moments, with his smiles, with his kisses and laughs and gentle voice singing under his breath when he thinks Eddie isn’t listening.

But Eddie listens. He always listens.

And he basks, taking it all in as he’s sitting in the back of his van somewhere at the foot of Weathertop, leaning against the side wall.

There is a steady pitter-patter of heavy summer rain against the roof of the van, a breeze of fresh air coming in through the open doors that occasionally leaves goose bumps along his arms and brings with it the smell of rain and drenched soil, of blooming fields and trees and life, mixing with their own little bubble of life and love and tobacco.

Eddie wants to catch that smell, that sound, that feeling in a mason jar like Steve told him he used to dream as a kid. Maybe he will. He knows there’s one in the driver’s side door for this very purpose.

It would be a good forever-moment, with Steve lying in the back of his van, illuminated by the soft glow of the fairy lights Eddie installed for him the other week with a hearty but ultimately fake grumble. The warm light dances along his skin, making it look even more golden than usual, complementing the galaxy of moles that is imprinted and immortalised on his skin.

And Eddie watches. He always watches.

Golden light that makes even his dimples shine as he smiles, eyes closed as he’s singing along to the third mixtape of the night. Space Age Love Song, which Eddie pretends to hate. But how could he hate it when it makes Steve look like that? When it thus steals Eddie’s breath, his heart, his sanity?

And then, for a moment, for one perfect, drawn-out moment, all Eddie Munson can do anymore is watch. And listen. And feel. Because what he sees and hears and feels is everything.

His breath is lodged in his throat as he reaches for his little sketchbook — the special one, littered with drawings and doodles and musings of Steve. His face, his hands, the constellations of his moles. The occasional DnD related sketch in there, because Steve just inspires him.

His pencil dances over the page in practiced, familiar movements as he tries to capture the moment on paper. It’s hard, though, because Steve’s nose is scrunched a little with that smile that Eddie’s not even sure Steve’s aware of, and his dimples tell a story of their own tonight. A story of contentment rather than joy or amusement. Eddie has to try and try again, never quite getting it right, this perfection, and he curses a little under his breath.

“What are you drawing?” Steve asks, turning his head and opening his eyes a little, squinting but curious.

“Nothing,” Eddie smiles, pulling the sketch closer to his chest, away from Steve’s sleepy, lazy, slow attempt to reach for it. “Go back to sleep.”

“‘M not asleep,” he sighs, rolling over onto his side, watching Eddie and reaching for his ankle — just to touch. To hold. To feel.

It makes Eddie smile. “No?”

“No,” Steve says, helpless not to smile back, and Eddie wants to kiss him. “Just… I don’t know. ‘S nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Perfect.”

Eddie discards the sketchbook and goes to lie down beside Steve, wrapping one arm around his middle, the other coming up to take Steve’s, their fingers intertwined between their faces.

“Then I think the word you’re looking for is basking.”

Steve hums again, touching his forehead to Eddie’s knuckles before brushing featherlight kisses over them. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Basking.”

Eddie’s heart is ready to beat out of his chest, make a life of its own fuelled by the perfection of this moment. Everything about it. Everything.

Outside, the rain picks up even more, a wave of cold air coming into the van that makes Steve cuddle closer to him, until their foreheads are touching. Eddie closes his eyes, breathes him in, and slowly inches forward, tilting his head to claim Steve’s lips in a gentle kiss.

They trade slow, sensual kisses for a while. Steve’s hand comes up to Eddie’s cheek, his thumb stroking whatever skin he can find, caressing his cheek, his chin, his jaw, while Eddie plays with Steve’s hair.

In the end it’s Steve who pulls back first, eyes open, just watching Eddie. Taking him in, making him feel seen rather than watched.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Answering is as easy as breathing. And just as difficult. Just as impossible. His love, his breath — they both belong to Steve, completely and entirely.

Steve, who smiles at him like being loved by Eddie Munson means something to him. Like it means everything. Like it can mean Forever. Eddie feels like he might not survive tonight it Steve continues to be so genuine, so honest, so raw, so open, so vulnerable, so pretty, so beautiful, so absolutely breathtakingly everything.

“Can I see what you were drawing?”

“You,” Eddie says, reaching behind him blindly in search for his book, too weak to refuse Steve anything he asks for. “I was drawing you.”

“You were?”

Eddie nods, feeling a heat creeping up on his cheeks.

“Sap,” Steve grins, leaning in to plant a kiss on Eddie’s cheek as he reaches over him for the sketchbook. “Can I?”

“Knock yourself out,” Eddie grumbles, rolling them so Steve’s lying on his back and Eddie can sprawl on top of him. Hide his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, hide the way he’s flushing, hide the absolutely obvious way he’s a goner for Steve fucking Harrington.

He hears the gasps, hears the pages being flipped, the little giggles of surprise, the hums and tiny, secret little ohs. He hears them and he holds his breath, beginning to shiver for a reason that even the cool breeze cannot compete with.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes. Doesn’t say anything else for a while. And Eddie wonders if Steve is in the same boat, in the same condition, if he has these moments, too. Moments like this. He wonders, and he hopes, and he wishes.

But Steve doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Eddie, and the music switches to Springsteen. Tougher Than the Rest. It’s always been too soft for Eddie, but right now it serves to give the word perfect a new melody.

“Dance with me,” Steve breathes.

“Hm?”

“Dance with me. Please?”

“In the rain?”

“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, tightens his hold around Eddie as if he forgot that they still had to get up and get out there.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, lifting himself from Steve’s chest and climbing out of the car, warm rain immediately drenching his clothes. It makes him laugh, a boyish little thing that bubbles out of him as he holds out his hands to help Steve out.

Steve takes his hand, jumping out with a small giggle of his own, making for a glorious vision: happy and giddy against the golden light inside the van, his wild hair soon drenched completely, sticking to his face where he shakes his head, showing droplets of water left and right.

It doesn’t fit the song, doesn’t fit the notion of basking, but they’re both laughing and breathless, clinging to each other in the moonlit night somewhere at the foot of weathertop, far away from everyone else that they might just be the only two people left in the world. Two silly boys, giddy and breathless and stupidly in love.

It makes Eddie pause. Swallow. It makes his heart go wild as he stills.

“What?” Steve asks, stilling as well, looking over his shoulder to see if someone was coming, if someone’s watching them.

Eddie pulls him closer, makes Steve meet his eyes again as he rests his hands around his neck. “Dance with me.”

A smile spreads Steve’s lips, breaking through all of Eddie’s walls to let the light in — even in the middle of the night. “Okay,” he breathes.

And if you’re brave enough for love, // Honey, I’m tougher than the rest.

The sound of rain isn’t loud enough to drown out the music, but still Eddie can barely hear it over the sound of his own heart. Over the sound of I love you, I love you, I love you. Over the sound of Is this forever? Can this be forever?

They slow dance to Springsteen, then to Tears for Fears, and eventually to Prince. They dance until Steve begins to shiver in his arms, until the rain has drenched them so completely that none of the day’s heat is left in the air and the breeze is getting uncomfortable. And then, they dance a little longer, because Steve is capturing Eddie’s lips again, slow and unhurried and like he means it. Like he means it all.

“One day,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s lips. “One day I’m going to marry you. I’ll find a way.”

And it’s Eddie this time who gasps, who falls into Steve because his knees are giving out. It’s Eddie who’s lost for words.

But he doesn’t need words, because Steve is kissing him again, holding him up, holding him, holding his heart and his life and his future in hands so gentle and sure that Eddie wants to fall apart, just a little bit.

“Not if I marry you first,” he says eventually, brushing one last bruising kiss to Steve’s lips before pulling back and climbing into the van, dripping as he is.

Steve, laughing and giggling, follows immediately after him, pulling off his clothes in a hurry to get under the blanket. Eddie watches him with a leer — at least until Steve kicks him in the side and tells him to get out of these clothes and come under the blanket to warm up.

“If you wanted to get me naked, you could’a just said so, Harrington. Didn’t have to propose first.”

Steve grins, helpless against it, blushing a little and hiding his face in the blanket even as he reaches for Eddie to come closer.

But Eddie doesn’t, and awkwardly climbs over Steve to reach for the driver’s side door.

“What are you—“

Steve shuts up when Eddie retrieves the mason jar, his mouth clicking shut adorably, making Eddie grin, vulnerable and nervous and raw as he feels.

“Told myself I’d capture a perfect moment for you. What do you think, does it qualify?”

Steve swallows. Nods. Reaches for Eddie once more, who shuffles closer until Steve can test his head on his shoulder.

“Can’t believe you remembered,” he murmurs, trailing his index finger along the lid.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Eddie grins, making Steve laugh. Alleviating the moment, but not dislodging it. “So?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “It’s perfect. I’m… God, I love you so much, Eddie, shit.”

“And that’s how I’m gonna label it,” Eddie grins.

“Not One day I’m gonna marry you?”

And Eddie’s breath hitches again. He lowers the mason jar, meeting Steve’s eyes this time. He wants to ask; needs to ask. Needs to know.

“Do you mean that?” It’s whispered; he doesn’t have the strength or the bravery to be any louder.

Steve’s hands come up to his cheeks, cradling his face in the gentlest way as he holds Eddie’s eyes. “Eddie Munson,” he says, “one day I’m going to marry you. And I won’t let you marry me first.”

Between them, Eddie opens the mason jar just as Steve leans in to capture his mouth in a kiss that really is nothing less than a promise. Nothing less than Forever.

happy birthday @anzelsilver i have the hugest “pls be my friend” crush on you so i decided to write you a lil thing and hope you enjoy this and the rest of your week 🫶🤍🌷