#fanfic title idea

[wrongweaponsdrawn]

seductions and deductions

a weapons drawn fic name idea courtesy of yet another typo/autocorrect duck up

[justaz]

when merlin asks arthur for things, the king is usually inclined to give him what he wants but it is not always guaranteed such as when his emotions cloud his judgement. but merlin’s surefire way of getting arthur to give in? he steps into his space, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says “arthur, please” and he folds like a house of cards.

[purplepixel]

Happy SWSAnniversary!

This one's for you @psychologicalwarclaire! Finally can give a proper thank you for writing my favorite rise fic of all time. Here's to a Spider's Web with Strings Attached's one year anniversary! What better way to commemorate this with a little comic featuring the very beginning?

For those who are just stumbling on this comic, please go read the fic its based on! I cannot praise and recommend it enough!!

[braxix]

Next up: All of Valinor is confused on where Elrond came from. Finrod decides to play detective and finds out Elrond called Maedhros atya this one time. He puts 2 and 2 together and gets 5. Everyone is confused.

[demelzathemer]

WHY are dead boy detectives fanfic writers so MANY and so TALENTED??? I CANNOT KEEP UP (I am making a collection of the best titles, by hand, and another collection of the best writers, just so I can remember to go back and read the rest of their stuff later)

[leclerity]

you kiss him first

Charles Leclerc x Former Childhood Friend!Reader count: 1.1k words summary: Charles and you talk about the reasons why you haven't seen each other in ten years... and there may have been some miscommunications all this time. a/n: another angsty one, with another happy ending, as always - thank you for all the support on the fics so far!

The Monaco air is crisp as you step out of the door, leaving the laughter of your parents and family friends behind. You note you forgot how warm Monaco can be, even in the evenings, and Charles Leclerc laughs, reminding you that you’ve been away for too long.

Certainly long enough for childhood friends to become distant acquaintances, at best.

“It’s weird to think we used to play around these streets,” you say. “We were so stupid. It was dangerous!”

“Well, we were kids.” Charles shrugs. “We thought we knew best.”

He leads you away from his parents’—now mother’s—house and after a moment, you recognise the route as your old path up the hills, to the best vantage points the city could offer. You climb with the expertise of someone whose feet have wandered up the trails a million times before, even if it’s been a decade since the last time.

“I always thought we might get hit by a car someday, but I didn’t care,” you say. “And look at you now, driving cars for a living.”

“Means I get hit by more often than an average person. So, you were right.”

“Right. Just like always.”

“Yeah. You were always right, you know.”

Something about the way he says it, looking at the hill beneath his feet instead of you, sends shivers down your spine.

The further outside the city you go, the quieter it gets. Dozens of memories fly past your eyes, all of the same hike, with the same person by your side, only a child, a teenager.

“What was I right about?”

Charles doesn’t look at you, nor does he answer. You keep hiking in silence and you find yourself getting antsy, fidgeting with a loose string hanging off your t-shirt.

When you get to the top, it’s peaceful. It always has been. You see the whole city from here, all of the lights shining brighter as the sun sets in the distance, and you can’t help but wonder – what went wrong?

So you ask.

He laughs, but it’s nervous. When you look at him, his white shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and the khaki shorts look too expensive against the dirty ground. He’s still got the same pretty face, the dimples in his smile, but he’s a far cry from the boy you grew up with.

“I don’t see the point in talking about it now,” he says.

“If not now, when? It’s been ten years already.”

“Never,” he says. “If I can choose.”

You turn to face him, the sights of Monaco be damned. “Why? We were good, Charles. I was supporting you with your karting, you were supporting me with all the hobbies I ever did…”

“We were good,” he agrees, but it’s almost sad. As if there’s no way back. As if whatever happened, it’s irreversible.

“No, you don’t get to just up and decide you’re never going to speak to your best friend again. You just… You don’t get to do that!”

“You’re right,” he says, nodding. “You’re right.”

“So what’s the issue?! I mean, I thought you were going to be by my side at the altar someday!”

Charles shakes his head, chuckling again, but you can see the watery reflection in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you, and for a moment you wonder what was it that you said that was enough to make him cry, and…

“That was the issue,” Charles says, softly. “I’d be by your side.”

You feel yourself frown. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“No. It’s not.” He looks at you and you finally see the tears, the redness of his cheeks, and the emotion he’d been restraining for who knows how long. “I didn’t want to be by your side.”

“Oh.”

“Y/N—”

“No. It’s okay. I get it.”

You move a little further from him, pretending your heart hadn’t just been stabbed, but he scoots right back next to you.

“Y/N, let me finish.” When you don’t say anything, he adds, “I wanted to stand opposite of you. That was the issue.”

“Opposite of—oh.”

The past rewrites itself in your head, all those little moments that ever confused you suddenly being crystal clear. You see all the hints you missed or saw and ignored – the refusals to talk about your crushes, the distancing that began when you got into your first relationship, even though it lasted not even two weeks…

And the absence of contact when your family moved away.

“Charles,” you say. “What are you—I don’t understand—”

“You didn’t see me the way I saw you,” he says, “and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

And—in a moment of unprecedented courage—you look him straight in the eyes. “Who says I didn’t?”

A look flashes over your face that tells you he’s experiencing a rewriting of the same kind you experienced moments ago. The moments when you held his hand for a little too long as a kid, when you cheered him on the track even when you were supposed to be on a date, when you listened to him vent about his brothers. You know these moments – and you hope that now, he can see them for what they were, too.

You put a hand on his cheek. He leans into it immediately, as if coming home.

“You know,” you whisper, “I don’t think there’s a moment of my life I didn’t love you. Even the past ten years… All I could do was miss you.”

“Me, too,” he says. “I hated myself for staying away, but I had to. I thought I had to.”

“If you just asked…”

He laughs, again, and it’s nervous all the same – but his hand is on your knee and he’s leaning in, and the air between you is charged. “Asked what? ‘Hey, Y/N, how’s your day? Also, do you happen to be in love with me, too?’ Is that what I should’ve asked?”

“Yes. And I would’ve said yes.”

He sighs; his eyes drop to your lips. “You’re telling me I wasted ten years because I was afraid?”

“Both of us were.”

“So, now…”

You become acutely aware of the distance between the two of you – all it would take is to lean in, ever so slightly, and the friendship barrier would be crossed. As if it hadn’t been crossed all those years ago, before you even knew what love or friendship were.

You smile. “Now you kiss me.”

“Tempting,” he says. “There’s one problem, though.”

“There is?”

Charles’s smile mirrors yours, wide and delighted. “I’m afraid if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” you say, and you kiss him first.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Fic Titles: Song Edition

Part II

I can't steal you (like you stole me) - You, The Pretty Reckless

Spinning all these stories - Skinny Bitch, Lena Meyer-Landrut

It's just another rainy Sunday afternoon - Lemon Tree, Fool's Garden

When I watch the world burn (all I think about is you) - Doom Days, Bastille

Let's compare scars (I′ll tell you whose is worse) - Swing Life Away, Rise Against

Sunsets and silhouette dreams - You be the anchor [...], Mayday Parade

Who could deny these butterflies? - Remembering Sunday, All Time Low

As we say our long goodbyes - Run, Snow Patrol

Naked bodies look like porcelain - Love, Daughter

I wish you were a stranger - Over my head (Cable Car), The Fray

Send my regards to hell - Blame, Bastille

We do fall before we rise - Blood & Glitter, Lord of the Lost

Our hearts beat (control them) - In spirit golden, I Blame Coco

Admiring from afar - we fell in love in october, girl in red

The safest place to hide - MakeDamnSure, Taking Back Sunday

I am my own worst enemy - The Consequence, You Me At Six

My lover and my best friend - Rehab, Rihanna

It's a sign that someone loves you - Don't swallow the cap, The National

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin - Take me to church, Hozier

The wonderful mess that we made - Flaws, Bastille

Drink the poison lightly - I'm not the one, 3OH!3

Saving life in the dark - Believe, Yellowcard

To warm the cold side of the pillow - Hunger of the Pine, alt-J

I'd probably still adore you - 505, Arctic Monkeys

You killed me with your smile - Tonight, Reamonn

Mistaken for strangers by your own friends - Mistaken for strangers, The National

Three whole words and eight letters late - Fireworks, You Me At Six

You say you love me and you roll your eyes - Everyway that I can, Sertab Erener

I'm so surprised you want to dance with me now - Pink Rabbits, The National

To distract our hearts from ever missing them - Youth, Daughter

More titles!

[mypoorsqheart]

but daddy i love her

So I've been working on an Olympics football Rhaenicent AU for a few weeks now (even before those pics of Emma and Olivia though I thank them for their service) prompted by this post. It's gonna be a bit of a mixed media AU with edits, social media profiles, and written parts.

Summary:

Rhaenyra Targaryen and Alicent Hightower, former teammates on the King's Landing Dragons and best friends, face off against each other at the Olympics after Alicent's transfer to rival team Oldtown Greens (and subsequently the girls' falling out) twelve years prior. When Alicent is injured during a qualifications match and Rhaenyra can't stay away, it prompts a tentative rekindling of their relationship. Will they be able to move past the perceived betrayals between them? Will the two weeks of the Olympics be a powder keg for change? Will Otto Hightower ever not be a douchebag? It remains to be seen.

The profiles so far, with young Rhaenicent on their way to their first Olympics as teammates and older Rhaenicent on their way to the third Olympics since they were last there to compete as rivals. I hope to post the first chapter soon.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Is there a service I can sign up for where someone just titles my fics? Because I would pay a boatload of money for that. K thx.

[msphagime]

The King of the Wilderwest || Hiccup III Queenslayer

"Whatever do they say of that so-called King's character?" "They deem him a most dour young man... who finds joy in naught but his beasts and the havoc they wreck." (That, of course, was but a foul misrepresentation. Indeed, the King was actually deemed to be of a rather pleasant disposition. But why would he ever show his enemies that?)

Hiccup portrait for a little portrait series I've decided to do, based on my AU ::)

Hiccup || Heather

[updownlately]

we said forever (and said it too soon)

ficlet masterlist

~~~

“Do you think, that maybe in another universe, we would’ve grown old together?” The words were whispered quietly into the air between you and the blonde, your heart breaking as you took the sight of her in as the silence grew.

You watched closely as Leah swallowed hard, her eyes meeting yours for only the briefest of seconds before they darted elsewhere, anywhere but at you, and you cursed mentally as you found yourself absolutely smitten with the way the white suit rested so elegantly on her frame.

“…Maybe, yeah…maybe...in another life, perhaps,” the words were followed with a small shrug, a wince accompanying the action as the skipper looked at the ground.

Feeling your eyes starting to sting, you nodded at her words, your own escaping softly as you took a step back slowly, then another, slowly backing away before she could see you break.

“Yeah, maybe in another life…congrats again, I- I wish you two the best, I really do."

[sevenate-9]

famous au wolfstar prompt

ok but imagine james is about to announce his PR relationship but gets stood up so sirius as his agent meet remus, who is a waiter he happens to run into, and gets him to stand in

and then sirius and remus fall in love while james and remus are pretend dating

[newbie-whovian]

Hi, Could you give the idea of reader x twelfth doctor who has Bill as a companion and who in a few words is a bit of a jealous doctor? either because they met someone great on a trip or because the reader is very much involved in his life on earth.

Thanks!

(yessssssssssssss I need to write more 12)

Jealousy

Rating: G

Pairing(s): 12th Doctor x Reader

Tags/TW: 12 is a jealous lad

You were used to trips not quite going the way you'd planned. It was almost a guarantee. But needless to say, rejecting the marriage proposal of a cyborg queen was... Definitely unexpected.

You, the Doctor, and Bill ran through the mechanical castle. "I don't see why it couldn't work out," Bill said, "I mean, she seemed nice enough-"

"Before she sent her guards after us, you mean?" you replied, just before the hallway began to shift. The three of you were trapped in a dead end that hadn't been there before.

The Doctor hadn't stopped fidgeting with his sonic screwdriver the entire chase, and it seemed that he'd finally found what he was looking for. He pointed it at the wall with a flourish, giving you and Bill a tiny grin before grabbing your hand.

The TARDIS was somewhere in the royal gardens, but with the hallways changing, you had no idea where you were supposed to be going. "Doctor, how are we getting out of here?" you asked, panting.

"I've tuned into the queen's frequency, I can reverse all of her changes," he said, and you frowned.

"So she controls the castle?"

"No. She is the castle. She's integrated it all into her upgrades. Quite foolish actually, once we escape, she won't be able to follow," the Doctor explained, tugging you around a corner.

Bill chimed in, "But the guards will! Right? I mean, they're not a part of the castle, they're just movin' on their own."

The Doctor paused before giving a shrug, saying, "If I'm right, the TARDIS is through that door, and we won't have to worry about it."

So the three of you bolted to the door, which thankfully led out into the gardens. The TARDIS waited patiently in the center of the queen's prized flower bed, and as the sound of mechanical guards closed in, you knew you couldn't risk a look back. The three of you piled into the TARDIS and slammed the door behind you.

Bill immediately tossed her jacket over one of the rails, saying, "Well that was... All kinds of fun but I'm beat, I'll be in the rec room. Let me know when we get back, alright?"

You gave her a smile and a wave while the Doctor gave a soft grunt, circling the console. Bill disappeared down a hallway, and you stepped towards the Doctor.

He yanked a lever and the TARDIS made a tremendous noise; he then quickly pulled the lever back to its original position, grumbling under his breath.

You rested an elbow on the railing. "Doctor?" you asked.

"Hm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong, we're on our way, everything is fine!"

You crossed your arms. "Mhm."

He turned to face you, saying, "What? I answered your question."

You raised an eyebrow and said, "Barely. C'mon, what's wrong?" Taking a step closer, you added, "Can't have anything to do with the fact that I was proposed to today, can it?"

He rolled his eyes and waved a hand at you, turning back to the console. "What, that? Nonsense."

You smirked. "Didn't seem like nonsense when you rejected her for me."

He paused for a moment before flipping a row of switches, saying, "You were hesitating."

You held back a chuckle and said, "That's what you're upset about? The fact that I hesitated, upon hearing that the queen of some planet - that you dragged me to! - wanted to marry me?"

"Oh c'mon, I didn't drag you, you wanted to go on a trip."

"You're avoiding the question and you know it," you said, barely able to hold back a smile.

He halted what he was doing and turned to face you, saying, "And what if I am?"

You shrugged. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, fine. But if it's bothering you, you can't just avoid it forever." You stepped a little closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, saying, "At the end of the day, I turned her down."

"You did."

"Mhm, 'cause why wouldn't I? I've got everything I want right here."

The Doctor betrayed a small smile.

[salmonight]

Free Title Ideas Pt.2

And here is the second part with more mostly likely less titles but enjoy!

(I still cant categorize so take them with apinch of salt)

Low Mood:

Who Mourns an Adonis?

Sinking Sand (Castles)

I Carve(d) These Letters Across My Chest

Smoking Roses

Whispers of the Forgotten

Perfectly Tainted

I Like Dead Things (They Cannot Hurt Me)

A Melody of Misfortune

Echoes of Loss

Crack:

Fake It ‘till You Make It

Honk if You're Scared

Live Fast Die Hot

I Know What I’m Doing — and Other Lies I Tell Myself

True Tales of Bodies(Mostly Mine)

Pinatas are Jerks

Food: A Love Story

You Are Old: Sobering Affirmations for Your Rapidly Disappearing Life

Paranoid-in-Chief

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to [insert activity]

How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Survival Hacks

Learning to Outlive Your Friends and Other Tales of Immortality

Hey, Coffee

Smoking 101: A Beginner's Guide

From Starbucks to Hell: The Demonic Coffee Cravings of Everyday Joes

When Your Summoning Circle Turns Out to Be a DIY Project Disaster From Hell

From Door-to-Door Sales to Demon Summoning: Unexpected Career Paths for the Ambitious

Demonic DIY: Home Improvement Tips for the Dark Side

Delving into the Depths of Dorkness

The Great Demonic Cacophony: A Symphony of Summoning Shenanigans

A Demon Summoner's Guide to Mayhem: How to Summon Chaos and Confusion

Demonic Diversions: When Summoning Turns into Side-Quests

From Grounds to Gateway: How to Open a Portal to Hell with a Cup of Joe

Starbucks, Satan, and Specters: A Caffeine-Fueled Guide to Demonology

The Dark Side of Caffeine: How to Summon Demons and Make the Perfect Latte

Coffee and Demons: A Match Made in... Purgatory?

A Demonic Grind

Romance:

Words Getting Worthless (Love is Wordless)

Honey Without Time

Heartthrobs With A Cheeky Smile

Cause in a Sky Full of Stars, I Saw You

Out of All the Stars in the Sky, I Choose You to Light My Night

At Peace With Stars, in Love With Fireflies

The Love Triangle of Doom

Death:

Phantoms Of The Undead

Shelter In The Graves

Catacomb Without Flaws

Dancing With Your Ghost

Ecto-static

Death Sucks, but the Afterlife is a Blast!

Gods:

Deranged Divinity

Worshipper's Rue

Mystery:

Failing Of The Fog

Stranger Of The Past

Construction Of Twilight

Tree Of The Lost Ones

Rat In The Mist

Giggling Crypts

A Face By Any Other Name

Speak the Truth in Every Sense, Bury It With Innocence

Fantasy:

Forsaking The Elements

Heroes Of The Void

Song of Ice

Lightning in a Bottle

Adrift in the Realms

Fae-n-tastic

Gathering Magic

Three Lullabies of Extradimensional Guides

The Birthday Wish that Sparkled with Magic

Enchanting Birthday Rituals

The Wishing Star Ritual

Destruction /Unhinged:

Sleep as the World Burns

Life is Just a Game (and I'm Playing for the Win)

Inception Of Infinity

Feathers of Chaos

Wingspan of Terror

Burning Brighter Than Hell

Let This City Burn, Burn, Burn

Good Vibes

Shoot for the Moon

Starry Night Skies

Age of Wonders

Streaks Of Laughter

A Lady's Luck, A Robin's Flight

Pt. 1 |

[ghosttotheparty]

love me softly p5

tags from @howdidyouallgetinmyroom on part four bc hello!! tentative but sweet!!! describes their relationship EXACTLY

-

They end up at the quarry, parked up on the cliff and listening to the water in the dark after the lights of the van turn off. And they talk. And talk and talk and talk. Steve is a little drunk. He keeps giggling about how Eddie fell on his way out the window.

Eddie tells him about his own dad when they’re sitting in the back of the van. How he used to talk to Eddie, what he used to call him. That Eddie moved to Hawkins when he was a kid with his uncle just to get away from him. And Steve mumbles that he’s glad that Eddie is in Hawkins. That he likes seeing him in the hallways.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever felt peace like this, sitting in silence, in the middle of the night, in the dark, with a tipsy Steve Harrington.

He takes Steve home after a while, doing his best to follow Steve’s directions around town until he finds his house. It’s in the woods, hidden from view until he’s pulling into the driveway, and it’s fucking massive. A mansion out in the asscrack of nowhere.

Steve just sighs when they arrive. And Eddie tells him softly, Go to bed, Stevie. And Steve tells him softly, Thank you.

Steve avoids his eyes at school on Monday, but it isn’t weird. Because his cheeks are pink every time Eddie catches him looking, and because because he isn’t just looking, but he’s taking sneaking glances.

He seems almost nervous, anxious about something, but Eddie doesn’t know what until the end of the day, when he’s hurriedly swinging his locker open. He stops short, his eyes catching on a folded piece of paper on top of the mess of books and trash that fill his locker.

His face is burning immediately, and the hurry of catching up with the guys is gone from his mind as he reaches for it, leaning into the locker to hide as he unfolds it.

He has to close his eyes for a moment after seeing it, falling into his locker with a quiet giggle.

It’s a messy drawing of two figures sitting side by side. The pencil marks are zig-zagged in shadows, dark and heavy, and he can see the smudges from Steve’s hand, where it dragged the graphite across the page.

Eddie’s face hurts because he’s smiling so hard, and he feels so warm he might develop a fever. It feels like there’s a beam of sunlight in his chest.

The drawing goes up on his wall when he gets home. He tells Steve he got it by sending him a wink next time he catches him looking, and Steve’s face lights up pink before he looks away.

He does that a lot. Especially if he’s with his friends. Eddie doesn’t mind.

Because he’s the one that got to sit in the dark with Steve, that got to listen to his nearly delirious giggles, that gets little sketches in his locker. No one else got any of that.

The next time he sees Steve do That Thing, it’s after school on a Friday, and Eddie is headed to his locker after Hellfire.

Everyone else has already headed home, and the halls are quiet and dark as he’s sorting through his notebooks, struggling not to drop anything, and he startles when a door bangs open.

He rolls his eyes at the sound of raucous, dude bro laughter, trying to hurry so he can leave before they make their way down the hall, but a notebook slips from his arm, and loose papers scatter across the floor. Character sheets, stats, everything.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

He scrambles to pick them up, shoving everything into his locker and falling to his knees, snatching them up without caring about wrinkling and folding them.

The laughter and banter falls silent when they round the corner, and Eddie grits his teeth.

“What’s this?” Tommy Hagen’s voice says, and it’s so patronising and mean that Eddie glares up at him. “You cleaning up from your Satanic club?”

Eddie huffs, grabbing the last paper and standing.

“Nothing Satanic about it, man.” They’re the same height. Eddie wishes he was taller. “You should stop talking about shit you don’t understand.”

Tommy cocks his head, his eyes narrowing.

“What the hell makes you think you can talk to me like that?” he asks in low voice. Eddie almost laughs.

“What the hell make you think I can’t?”

Tommy’s nostrils flare, and his eyes are shining in the dim light of the hallway, and he smacks the papers out of Eddie’s hands. They scatter across the floor again, and the boys behind Tommy laugh. Except Steve.

“Tommy, come on.”

“Not so brave when you’re not on tables, huh?” Tommy says, ignoring Steve and pushing at Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie stumbles back without breaking eye contact, setting his jaw and pushing Tommy’s hands away, but Tommy just pushes him again.

“Tommy, stop,” Steve says sharply, tugging on Tommy’s hood and pulling him away. “Come on, man, cut it out.”

“Jesus,” Tommy says, shrugging him off. “What, are you friends with this freak?”

Eddie’s head tilts, still staring silently at Tommy.

“No, I—” Steve hesitates, adjusting his bag. “You’re just being a dick for no reason, he isn’t doing anything.”

“He’s taking up space,” Tommy says dryly, giving Eddie a look.

“Come on,” Steve says again. “You were already saying you’re gonna be late home, let’s just go.”

Tommy just huffs and walks past, stepping directly on a character sheet and kicking it away behind himself. The other boys laugh and bump into Eddie, jostling him as they pass, and Eddie finally lowers to the ground, slowly collecting papers.

He looks over his shoulder to find Steve looking back at him, an unreadable, desperate expression on his face. Eddie looks away.

The last page he collects is ripped. And his eyes burn.

He hasn’t cried in a long time. He doesn’t know why this is the last straw.

Tears are falling on the paper, and he wipes his face so hard it hurts, standing to shove everything in his locker before he slams it shut, the sound of it echoing down the hall.

He goes to the closest bathroom to splash some water in his face, but the water just mixes with his tears, which won’t stop.

So he lets himself cry, lets the tears slide down his face as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor, tucking his face under the collar of his shirt.

He hasn’t cried this hard in months. Maybe years. His throat hurts, and his body is trembling, and his face aches, and he can’t fucking stop.

He’s distantly aware of a voice, but doesn’t lift his head until a hand lands gently on his shoulder, and he startles violently, recoiling and hitting the hand away as he lifts his head.

Steve is crouching in front of him, but he’s covering his head with his arm, his eyes squeezed shut before he open them to look at Eddie, a fear in his eyes that makes Eddie’s whole body hurt.

Eddie moves quickly, shifting to his knees so he’s kneeling in front of Steve, and he hugs him tightly, his arms around his neck, and he’s still sobbing, his words almost unintelligible.

“No— I’m sorry, I— I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry, Steve—”

Steve is already hugging him back, pulling Eddie against himself.

“No, it’s okay,” Steve says quietly. His hands run over Eddie’s back, and he’s hushing him softly, whispering to him, and Eddie is just crying.

He presses his face into Steve’s shoulder, letting out hiccuping sobs, and Steve’s cheek presses to the top of his head as his arms tighten. He slides until he’s sitting, gathering Eddie between his legs.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Eddie sobs, clutching at Steve’s arm. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Steve says softly, rocking them slightly. “I know, Eddie, it’s okay.”

He’s rubbing his back gently, combing through his hair, taking shaky breaths that tell Eddie that he’s crying too.

“God, I’m sorry,” Eddie chokes, reaching to wipe his own face, trying to sit up, but Steve doesn’t let him, wiping it away himself.

“‘S okay to cry,” he says gently.

And Eddie realises something awful.

Something irreversible, something so fucking terrible that it just makes him cry harder.

He’s falling in love.

He closes his eyes and falls against Steve, crying harder.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers after a while, almost cradling Eddie’s head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you apologising?” Eddie asks weakly, lifting his head, and Steve wipes his cheek again.

“Because I… said that …”

Oh.

Eddie shakes his head, grabbing the front of Steve’s shirt.

“No, I don’t care about that.”

“You know I was lying, right?” Steve asks desperately, leaning forward. Eddie wants to kiss him.

“I know,” Eddie says, nodding. “I’m not— I’m not crying about that.”

“Okay,” Steve breathes. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears, and Eddie’s chest hurts. “Then why…”

Eddie shakes his head, swallowing thickly, and a tear falls down his cheek. Steve’s hand is warm when he wipes it away. Eddie wants to die.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. His eyes drift down Steve’s face, tracing his moles. “I think I just… Today’s been long, I think I just— like, crashed.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says softly.

“‘M sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

Steve’s voice is soft, echoey, bouncing off the white tiled walls. Eddie exhales shakily, wiping his face again.

“What would make you feel better?” Steve asks softly. Eddie shrugs weakly.

“I don’t know.”

Steve is quiet, one of his hands still running through Eddie’s hair gently, and Eddie realises that he’s still grasping Steve’s shirt in his hand. His cheeks burn and he pulls his hand away, releasing the fabric, but Steve catches his hand, squeezing it.

Eddie’s eyes catch on their hands, watching Steve’s fingers brush over his skin. His hands are so different from Eddie’s, longer and more graceful, smooth and soft and unscarred. More tan, especially against Eddie’s pale skin and the silver rings he’s wearing. Eddie can’t looks away. His breathing is slower, and the tears have stopped, but his skin is tacky with them, and he can see his clumped eyelashes in his peripheral vision.

He can feel Steve looking at him. Steve, who’s sitting in silence on the floor of a school bathroom, holding his hand.

“Do you wanna go for a drive?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “I’d like that.”

“Okay.”

Eddie drives. They leave Steve’s car in the school parking lot and sit in silence until they reach the quarry again. Eddie drives there almost on instinct, like it’s where they’re supposed to be, and they sit in the back together, close enough that their legs are touching.

It feels easier for Eddie to exist when he’s not in the school.

“You wanna talk about your day?” Steve asks quietly. It’s dark in the van, dark outside, and Eddie can hear the sound of the water below them. It’s nice.

“‘S just…” He pauses. “I don’t know, it wasn’t that it was bad, it just… Was long.”

“You, uhm.” Steve hesitates. “God, that sounds mean, never mind.”

“Just say it,” Eddie says with a little laugh.

“You… You look tired lately. When I see you.”

Eddie sighs, letting his head fall back to the wall.

“I really hate school,” he says. “Don’t like being there.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Eddie nods, and he takes a deep breath. It shakes.

There’s a quiet moment, and then Steve is moving closer, his arms stretching to take Eddie between them, and Eddie lets himself fall against Steve again. His chest hurts.

He lays against Steve’s chest, tucking his hands between them comfortably, and Steve’s face presses to the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry my friends are assholes,” Steve says quietly.

“‘S not your fault.”

“Still.”

“Don’t apologise to me, Steve. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“…Okay.”

“You even got Tommy to stop,” Eddie adds, suddenly remembering. “Which…” Steve’s hand runs over his head, over his mangled curls. “Thank you.”

Steve just holds him tighter.

Eddie’s eyes squeeze, and he’s almost nuzzling into Steve’s chest. He smells like cologne, and like something that belongs just to Steve. Eddie wonders if his house has the same smell. If his bed does. (It probably does. Though Eddie would love to do his own investigation into the question.)

“One of my character sheets ripped,” Eddie says quietly, breaking the silence. “That was— That was what kind of… I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What did I just say?”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Steve.”

“Fuck, sorry.”

They’re both giggling quietly. Eddie can feel Steve’s chest shaking with it.

“Steve.”

“Sorry— Fuck—“

Eddie sits up and claps a hand over Steve’s mouth, watching as Steve’s eyes sparkle and crinkle under his grin.

“Just stop talking,” Eddie says.

Steve nods.

Eddie removes his hand and lays back down against his chest.

“Who was the character?” Steve asks after a few moments.

“Hm?”

“The— The character sheet. Tell me about the character.” He drags his fingertips through Eddie’s hair. “I don’t know anything D&D, I’m very out of my element. But I’m… willing to learn.”

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes.

“What?”

“You’re a sweetheart, Steve Harrington.”

Steve giggles again.

Eddie tells him. He talks and talks and talks, tracing lines over Steve’s arm mindlessly, melting against Steve even more when his fingers tangle in Eddie’s hair and tug lightly as he’s playing with it.

It feels nice.

Steve asks him questions, prompts him to give him more information, and he’s actually interested in what Eddie’s saying, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in Eddie’s stomach. He might die.

After a while Eddie falls quiet, and his eyes falling shut, and the feelings of Steve’s heartbeat on his face and Steve’s fingers in his hair are lulling him to sleep.

“Shit,” he says softly, starting to sit up, blinking his eyes.

“What?” Steve says in a small voice, his hand falling away from Eddie’s hair.

“I’m falling asleep, I’m…”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. His hand tugs at Eddie’s shirt gently. “‘S fine, come back.”

He sounds so small, so desperate, that Eddie doesn’t even think twice before he falling onto Steve again, and Steve is hugging him tightly. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, gripping Steve’s shirt.

“When am I driving you back to your car?” he asks, his voice muffled by Steve’s chest.

“Don’t know,” Steve says, sighing softly. “Don’t care.”

“…Okay.”

Their legs twine together, and Eddie turns slightly, his head resting under Steve’s chin. He can feel Steve’s chest rise and fall with every breath, can feel Steve’s arms firm around him like he’s holding him in place, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like before. This safe and protected and comfortable, in the arms of a boy he’s actually talked with approximately three times.

He slides a hand down Steve’s arm, over the folds of his shirt, over his forearm, over his wrist, over his hand. He traces his knuckles. They’re so soft.

He traces light lines over Steve’s fingers, and Steve is lifting them to meet Eddie’s until their fingers are curling together.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, furrowing his brows. Steve’s arm tightens around Eddie and he squeezes his hand, and Eddie turns his face to press to Steve’s chest.

Eddie wonders if Steve knows what he’s doing. If he has any idea how fucking gay this is, snuggling Eddie in the back of his van.

But Steve doesn’t seem to mind. His other hand runs over Eddie’s hair again. And Eddie drifts off.

part six

read the whole thing on ao3

[legendary-guest]

Say it with Flowers

Drakken and Shego are talking about one thing or another. Maybe it's the subject of their relationship, their feelings, their future. In a vulnerable moment for him, the petals make their debut. He's irritated, but defeated in this moment, so he leaves them. Maybe he sits down if they're standing or turns away.

Whatever it is, Shego's there, wry smirk, glint of mischief in her eye, and something else. She reaches up to pick a petal off.

"He loves me." Then another. "He loves me not."

He just watches her, mouth slightly agape. She doesn't look at him whilst she is doing this, her mischievous look softening to gentleness.

"He loves me not." There is one last petal left around his neck. She looks at him in anticipation.

He just stares at her in awe, processing this whole little game she's played - the fact that she said - she said he loves her and he loves her not and...

"He loves you." He responds, then winces, corrects himself.

"I-I mean - I - I love you! I...I love you, Shego."