#a list of happy things

[ben-learns-smth]

being in your twenties is like [making a nice meal just for yourself] [trying a new hobby] [baking a cake because you want to] [moving in with your best friends] [celebrating small wins] [dreaming up a billion future versions of yourself] [long distance friendship phone calls] [trying new styles] [finding the people you can sit and do nothing with] [having your favourite dishes for dinner] [getting piercings] [trying a new recipe] [finding the people to do kitchen karaoke with] [choosing yourself over and over again] [dinner picnics in the park] [celebrating the big wins] [finding the people to go on day trips with] [learning a new language] [finally getting that one tattoo you've been daydreaming about] [being a regular at a cosy café] [learning how to be your own ally] [dyeing your hair late at night with a friend] [painting your walls] [creating a life you enjoy experiencing]

[beziehungsstatuspizza]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers ♡

going to sign language classes

when my flatmate sings while cooking or cleaning

that the sun paints light across my walls in the morning again

the freckles are coming back (slowly and only tiny ones but they're the first messengers of spring)

when cats do the thing that's kind of a sleepy stretch where they put the paws in front of their face and then scrunch up in a tiny ball

thank you!! :)

edit: the godkitten doing the thing

[morganbritton132]

I’ve seen fics where Eddie sees Steve post-season 2, all sad and pathetic after his fall down the social ladder, and then Hellfire adopted him. They’re perfect. No notes. Ten of out ten. I will read every single one of them.

However.

It is very funny if Steve adopts the Hellfire Club as his new friend group. They have no choice in the matter.

The only good thing going on in his life right now is that Dustin has decided that he’s cool. Steve doesn’t want that to change so he’s going to have to learn a few things because he never knows what the hell Dustin is talking about.

So, “You guys know nerd shit, right?”

Hellfire blink at him.

“You do. Good,” Steve continues, pointing out the Starfleet ensigna on Grant’s jacket. He sits in Eddie’s seat like, “Have you heard of this board game called Demons and Dragons?”

They blink at him again and share looks with each other that say that this is a hell of a day for Eddie to be absent. Jeff is the only one brave enough to say, “It’s uh…it’s Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh,” Steve says, flipping his notebook open and writing that down. “Sweet. What else?”

Eddie comes back to school two days later still a little stuffy from his cold to find Steve “The Hair” Harrington in his seat, talking to his friends, making plans to watch Star Wars that weekend.

He’s just like, what the fuck.

[deoidesign]

sleeping beauty (available in print!)

[keferon]

Did you think I was done? Ahahahaha no, I have more.

Because chapter 70 of MOMU gave me the very dynamic between them that I missed so much, I just blacked out and started drawing uncontrollably lmao

Also. ALSO. I noticed a while ago that Prowl has the habit of..like…constantly frowning. So. I did a bit of research and made this graph.

In 70 chapters, Prowl frowns rougly 104 times. And the intensity of this gesture is very clearly correlated with the development of his relationship with Jazz, as you can see ahahahahah It might be wrong tho don’t take me seriously I’m not good with graphs

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3

-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can’t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

Tag List: (message me to add or remove yourself.)

@morallyundefined @estrellami-1 @ollieolive @mugloversonly @wheneverfeasible @steddiefication @what-if-a-dragon @wrenisfangirling @yesdangerpls @flustratedcas @scarletyeager @snowstar2368 @starxlark @sofadofax @lawrencebshoggoth @stevesworldxx @jizzing-bastard-600and69 @bambibiest @queenie-ofthe-void @lilpomelito @bananahoneycomb @kaspurrcat @deadwhiterosesstuff @dame-zoom-a-lot @3vilpurpl3d0t @loudmariachibands @steddieislife

[hchom]

December things. I went on a box-making tear this year, so everyone gets a box. You can see descriptions and photos for each of these of these here, here and here.

[pahatarcarabosse]

i think they should invest on actual door

[missholoska]

soriel week 2024 day 4: holiday 🎄

[reaandull]

gelphie doodle!!!!

i made it into a sticker :D

[flowercrowngods]

Steve startles awake, disoriented and filled with a slight bout of panic — as always when he takes a nap that turns into five hours of deep sleep and catapults him right into the next dimension for a while there.

Heart racing, he blinks his dark bedroom into existence, and it takes him a while to realise where he is and what woke him up.

And then the landline phone on his nightstand rings again, and he exhales deeply before reaching for it with clumsy, sluggish movements.

“‘Ello?”

“Steve,” comes Eddie’s sing-song voice from the other end, washing over Steve in a soothing way that leaves him falling back into the pillows. He clutches the phone to his ear as he closes his eyes, the smile already forming at how happy Eddie sounds. He rarely sings Steve’s name like that. He should do it more often.

“Hi there.” His voice sounds like shit. Like he just took a — Jesus Christ, has it really been four hours? Well. He sounds exactly like someone who took a four-hour nap after a shit day at work would sound like.

There’s fumbling on the other end, but it stops suddenly. “Did I wake you? Shit man, I thought it was past nap time.”

“I don’t have nap time,” Steve grumbles, actually pouting at Eddie’s words and realising only a second too late how ridiculous he sounds.

“Sure, man, whatever you say. We all know you’re actually just a life-sized toddler.”

Steve sputters, sitting up against his headboard as he gradually wakes up. “Hey! Also, I don’t think you actually understand what life-sized means.”

“Yes, I do.”

Steve shakes his head at this ridiculous, ridiculous man. “What exactly do you think a non-life-sized toddler looks like, Eduardissimo?”

“Like Dustin.”

The answer is so quick and deadpan, Steve cannot contain the laugh that bursts out of him, waking him up quicker and gentler than anything else in the world could have, and he revels in the sound of Eddie joining him. He must look so smug right now, and so damn proud of himself. Steve wants to see him. Wants to kiss that smile right from his lips and replace it with something a lot more genuine.

“You’re an asshole,” he says instead, pulling his blanket further around him as he lifts his knees to sit more comfortably.

Eddie hums, still teasing somehow with just that noise, and Steve just can’t stop smiling. “You like me so much, Harrington.”

“Hmm,” he mirrors Eddie’s hum, but even he can hear the smile on his face. “Jury’s still out on that one, actually.”

“Any tendencies yet on the verdict?”

“Nope, they can’t decide.”

Eddie snorts at that, and Steve has no idea how that can sound so sweet. But it does. He buries his smile in his knees for a bit, the blanket hot around his burning cheeks. He’s hopeless.

“Well, let me know as soon as they do, yeah?”

“Will do,” he laughs, ruining all his attempts to sound solemn. “So what’s up? Why’d you call?”

“Oh!” And suddenly it’s like a switch has been flipped and Eddie doesn’t sound teasing and smug anymore, but instead just fucking giddy! “I have a bed now!”

Steve smiles at it. At that voice, that tone, that infectious emotion. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” More fumbling on the other end, and Steve can only imagine that Eddie is rolling around in his newly acquired bed.

Who’s the life-sized toddler now, hm?

“No more sleeping on the floor for this Munson boy, nuh-uh, my good sir! We are in possession of a bed now. A wooden bed, no fancy headboard or anything, just…”

“Just a bed,” Steve says, feeling like he’s about to burst into a million little particles of fondness and affection and the never-ending need to kiss Eddie. To hold him. To touch him in any way he can. “That’s great, Edsie.”

“It is, Stevesie.”

“Man, I hate you so much,” Steve squints at the ceiling and laughs, actually kicking his feet, the minute breeze providing a little relief for the heat in his face.

And Eddie has no business to sound so smug when he says, “Yeah, you do.”

A pause then, and it feels loaded even through the phone. Steve clutches it closer to his face, hoping stupidly that Eddie can feel it.

“You should come hate me in my new bed.”

Steve’s breath hitches, and his brain shuts off for a hot second there. Before he can overthink this, he decides to just… play along. And listen to what his heart has been telling him for months now.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, breathless still, but his whole body tingles with just these two words. With the possibility they bring. The offer that they are. The question. The everything that’s stored in them.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he sounds just as breathless. “I mean, if— If you want to?”

“I do.” Steve swallows. “Right, uh— Right now?”

“Whenever.” And it sounds more like an As soon as possible.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, scrambling out of bed as quickly as possible, pulling off his shirt with the phone still pressed to his ear, letting out an embarrassing noise as it gets tangled in a mess of cord and fabric. He scrambles to free it, almost dropping it in the process. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

“To come look at my new bed?”

“Sure.”

On the other end, Eddie laughs again, but he still sounds just as breathless as Steve does. Just as excited. As fragile. Just as many fucking things.

“Alright,” Eddie murmurs, though Steve can still hear the smile. “I’ll see you then.”

And then he hangs up before either of them can get lost in their own heads about this sudden certainty of change. Steve is grateful for the steady noise of the dial tone reminding him that this is happening. But that nothing has to happen.

It’s a nice bed, he finds hours later, fingers combing through Eddie’s hair who’s cuddling him half asleep. It’s the best fucking bed he’s ever seen, if only because it led to this.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 (lmk if you want on or off)

[ben-learns-smth]

happy things today

I PASSED MY THESIS HECK TO THE YES

a comfy green couch with the prettiest view of the sea

going for a dip in the sea and it's the same rush and joy as it was last time (but better bc post top surgery!!)

vegan bitterballen

tik tak toe extreme

wearing M's jumper (something about borrowing a jumper making it even cosier)

the prettiest sunset

[crushoncaleb]

Be my valentine

Rafayel x reader

Fluff

1.4k words

You try to ask Rafayel to be your valentine. The keyword is try.

A/N. First time I have written something for a holiday or event and actually managed to post it in time! Basically, I couldn't sleep, and Rafayel possessed me. Hope y'all enjoy!

My masterlist

Is this...rejection?

You'd spent some time planning it, even bribed Thomas to get Rafayel the day off. But when you and Rafayel arrived at your usual spot at the beach. He didn't seem to take note of the seagulls at all.

The seagulls you had somehow managed to train into landing in the right order so the letters you stuck to them would ask him to be your valentine. Now, you'd be the first to admit, the whole plan was a little crazy, but with your and Rafayel's history and connection to the seagulls choir, you'd thought it would be cute.

If it had been any more subtle, you might've believed he genuinely missed it. But it's quite hard to believe someone like Rafayel would not see the literal seagull choir the two of you were here to visit. So naturally, you had to assume he was letting you down easy.

Even being let down easy hurt. It completely blindsided you. You were absolutely certain something had been brewing between you and the artist. Hell, last time you'd spent time with him after wearing new perfume, he'd spent about an hour shoving his face against you to breathe you in. You were SO certain that crossed the line of platonic.

You start questioning if perhaps you'd been reading social interactions wrong your entire life, as next to you, Rafayel starts getting antsy.

"Cutie, as much as the sky is beautiful today and I would love to spend time staring at it with you, we should go get lunch now. Thomas' endless texting has tired me out, and I'm huungry. " He speaks, his tone light and whiney as always, and for a second, you consider him world's greatest actor.

You decide that what you felt for Rafayel combined with the effort you'd put into this plan was worth the risk of heartbreak, so in a final effort to get him to acknowledge you, you speak up.

"Don't you want to see your trusty choir first? They're right there behind you. I'm sure they've missed their conductor." You're not sure if you manage to keep your tone quite as light and playful as intended, desperation tinging the edges of your words, but you've spoken them, now he HAS to respond.

A pause, anticipation clogs your veins, and you practically feel your blood pressure rising. "...there's a boat ride with a buffet that might be nice today, since the weather is so nice and all."

Your eyebrows raise, the casual tone of his voice so steady that you almost start questioning if you even did bring it up at all. But the quick look he takes at you and the way he turns away tells you he is definitely doing this on purpose.

It was truly rejection then, your stomach twists and a buffet and a boat ride with Rafayel suddenly sound daunting. You could get over rejection, but maybe not within 10 minutes.

"Hmm, that sounds nice but I'm actually starting to feel a little off," you muse on your excuse "I think I might head home a little earlier than planned today, Rafayel, rain check?"

He turns to face you now, slowly. Eyes wide and brows furrowed, expression reminiscent of that time you gave him a single apple when he checked himself into the hospital. A mix between shock, offense, and a silent command to change your mind.

He grabs your wrist and starts pulling you along. His expression changes in a heartbeat, and it's like you never said anything.

"They apparently have like a super long waiting list, but I got in pretty easily. Guess being well known does have its perks after all, huh?" He keeps talking in that same casual tone of his, which is starting to frustrate you to no end.

"Rafayel, I get that a rain check for the boat might not be easy if it's like that, but I really need to go home." You plead, trying to pull yourself out of his grip but he just turns to you, gives you that same expression that you're convinced only Rafayel can make properly, and then keeps going like you never opened your mouth.

You're baffled at his behavior, and by the time you recover, the two of you are making your way onto the boat.

"Now, I'm going to need you to stop looking so surprised, cutie." He reaches out to gently smooth his fingers over the muscles of your brows, which you will admit are a little tense from how you've had them raised the entire way here. "I need you looking as cute as you always do for the pictures we're gonna take here."

It was one thing to completely ignore what was practically a confession, another to blatantly ignore your request to go home, but the audacity to tell you to not be surprised at his antics? That was too far.

He tries to pull you along again, but you hold steady. He shoots you a questioning look. As if you're the one acting out of the ordinary.

"Rafayel, I want to go home," and you're proud of yourself for standing on business, convinced there is no way for him to just ignore that. In your defense, he doesn't.

Instead, he huffs, his gorgeous features taking on that oh so familiar, annoyed expression. His response is a short "no, you don't" before he takes a step closer to you, only to link your arms and pull you along with the new leverage that gives him.

Then, before you know it, you're standing at the front of the boat as it slides through the water. With no way home except a very prolonged dive.

Rafayel entertains you, and the entire situation had been confusing enough to distract you from his blatant rejection, but now that his weird behavior seems to be settling, reality starts creeping in. You're stuck with him now, so you'll have to keep yourself together until you manage to get off this boat. How vexing.

His first cough doesn't shake you out of the deep thoughts you're in and neither does the second so, Rafayel resorts to nudging you with his elbow when a red fish surfaces with a bottle in its mouth.

You look at him, but he pointedly looks away, like he didn't just practically poke your ribs out. When you lean towards the railing, the fish jumps, and the bottle flies towards you.

You're not actually in the mood to catch it, but your hunter instincts kick in, and in the blink of an eye, the intricate glass bottle is in your hands. You can see a note neatly curled up and tied with a bow, resting inside it.

"Wow, cutie, those are some reflexes." Rafayel feigns being impressed and then presses on. "You should open it. You won the bottle's secrets fair and square once you saved its life."

You narrow your eyes at him. This could not possibly have been more obviously set up by him. Though you will say, his sheer determination to have things go his way is admirable.

You comply, already knowing the only other option was to face his huffing and puffing before then having to comply after all.

The cork takes more effort to open than you'd like, and Rafayel smiles fondly at the slight flush that rises on your face in result. Once you unroll the note, though, your eyes widen.

There, in Rafayel's eclectic handwriting are the very words you'd strung up on your seagulls.

A beat passes, and Rafayel looks at you expectantly. A cute expression on his face, and for a second, you are torn between accepting just to keep him looking like that and raining down righteous retribution on him.

You decide you'd do both. "Rafayel, of course I'll be your valentine, but did you really ha-" his lips halt yours before you could complain at all and you feel said complaints melting away.

The kiss is sweet, Rafayel brings you into his arms as he starts to deepen it, you'd always suspected he'd be a needy kisser, but he pulls away before he gets carried away.

"Sorry, cutie. Couldn't have you interfering with my plans though, you have no idea how long I've waited to make this move." His voice sounds breathy, and his eyes don't leave your lips. His words are so sweet you could almost ignore how he's pretending this was your fault. Almost.

Yet, you'll let it slide. Because as he leans in for another kiss, you just can't find it in yourself to be upset with him.

[spaciebabie]

JUST GOT DIAGNOSED WITH PTSD🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 TRAUMA GANG RISE 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 RAAAAAHHHHH WHAT THE FUCK IS A NORMAL CHILDHOOD 🦅🦅🦅🎆🎆🦅🦅🦅🎆🎆🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

[fruityindividual]

hiiii there! i'm curious if u have a fave fancast for remus :)

sure! narrowed it down to two <33

[ljubitelj-sonca]

Valentine’s Day Cards!

From: me

To: You! <3

(Feel free to use and share, but I’d love to see the reactions if you send them)

(Inspired by my Spatort cards from ‘24 and ‘23)