#five nights worth of adventure~

[toonsforkicks22]

A new nightly adventure just for Pomni~

SHOP

[peculiarphantomphoenix]

I don't know why, but every once in a while, I get the urge to watch random lore/timeline videos.

Is this just me?

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Trinkets

Five presents Jason brought you back from his adventures and one you asked for. (+ one) ~1.2k words of fluff

Jason Todd brings you home gifts from his missions, which wouldn't be a problem, but he never really explains what they are.

The first time it happened, you had laughed at the green ring with a lantern symbol in the middle. It looked cheesy, like one of the fake ones you can buy from the superhero merch stores littered around malls and outlets.

You'd kissed his cheek in thanks, put it on your shelf, and never gave it a second thought.

At least you didn't, until a bright green glow woke you up from your sleep. You'd sat up immediately, jaw practically dropping to the sheets as the ring lifted itself off your shelf and flew out the window.

Jason barely budged, his arm still thrown over your waist. He let out yawn and cuddled closer before speaking, voice groggy and heavy, "Huh. Didn't think they noticed that one was gone."

"They," You half yell, voice pitching as you stare at his outline, hidden in the shadows of the room.

"The Guardians, babe," he yawns out, "They're in charge of the space cops. Just go back to sleep."

Naturally, you do not go back to sleep. You drag him to the kitchen, make tea, and demand he explains why a Green Lantern ring was in your apartment. (He's very happy to)

The second time it happens, you're much more wary of the gift he brings home. But to be fair, he can't really pass off an Amazonian steel sword as something he just picked up.

It doesn't take as much convincing as it should for you to let him mount it on your wall. But it's a sword! No one can blame you for thinking it looks cool in your living room.

It turns out keeping it around is pretty useful, because a few weeks later, your boyfriend crawls through your window, dressed head to toe in armor.

"Hey, doll," he drawls, "Can I borrow your sword?"

"Sure," You chirp back, more preoccupied with your book as he saunters over to the sword, "what for?"

"Artie's got confiscated, and we haven't gotten to steal it back yet," he supplies, stopping long enough to pull his helmet up and kiss your head.

"Oh, that sucks," You answer, offhandedly, "Give her and Bizzaro my love."

"You got it, babe," he chirps already halfway out your window.

He does bring your sword back, covered in green blood, but no worse for wear. It still looks great on your wall.

He brings you a box next. It's kind of ugly looking, but you thank him nonetheless.

"Be careful with it," he tells you as you flip it over in your hands, "It opens boom tubes."

You almost drop it, and if you hadn't already experienced the power ring, you would have shrieked at him. Instead, you manage to put it down very carefully and calmly ask, "It does what?"

"Open boom tubes," he answers, which clears absolutely nothing up, "I figured we could use it to country hop for our next date night. You know, dinner in Paris, drinks in Dubai, dessert in LA."

"Okay," You answer slowly, as if that makes complete sense.

It turns out, it does. Date night is lovely, and making out with your boyfriend on a random beach in Spain is very, very nice.

Batman waiting in your apartment to take back the boom box isn't so nice, though.

Jason tells you it was worth it. He's absolutely right.

The third thing Jason brings you is a plant. Flowers aren't a rare show of affection from him, but ones that move are.

"Uh, thank you, Jason," You start, prodding at the moving petals, they nuzzle your fingers the same way a kitten would, "But I don't know how to take care of these."

"Same way you take care of any other plant, water, fertilizer, nutrients, all that fun stuff," he says fondly, stroking a few of the petals.

"What if it gets sick," You ask, uncertain.

"We'll call Ivy," he says, unbothered.

"Right. Ivy. Poison Ivy. Who you know," You mumble, but the little plant is already worming its way into your heart. (You affectionately name it Daisy, for no other reason then it sways happily when you say that name)

The fourth thing Jason brings you makes you laugh because you know exactly what it is, "Jason, we can't keep this."

"Why not," he pleads, shaking the bright green quiver filled with arrows at you.

You giggled harder, smiling wide as you shake your head at him, "We don't even know what those do. Don't some of those explode?"

"So what," he huffs, practically pouting, "We can ask Roy. And it's not like I don't know my way around explosives."

"I guess so," You relent, trying to stifle your laughs as you inspect the bright green arrows, "How did you even get this?"

His eyes light up mischievously, "Do you really want to know?"

You stop short and narrow your eyes at him, "I would lose my plausible deniability."

"But you wanna know," he says, sly and playful.

You do. (It involves mutated chickens, tar, and one distracted Oliver Queen. You hang the quiver next to the sword)

Jason's getting ready to leave, bags packed and helmet lazy held under his arm, "Can I bring you back anything specific, doll" he asks, his free hand resting comfortably against your cheek, "Lasso of Truth? Maybe something with magic?"

You grin at him, leaning into his touch, "I actually do have something in mind."

"Oh," he prompts, eyes glinting with excitement.

"I want to complete my batarang collection."

He falters, "Your– what?"

"No one has," You exclaim, pulling away to showcase your collection, "I have Nightwings, Batgirls, Batmans, yours, of course, one of Robin's. But I'm missing Spoilers, Batwomans, Signals, and Red Robins."

He blinks at you, "That's– if that's what you want."

You giggle at how dumbfounded he looks, practically bouncing back over to him to kiss him, "Thank you, Jason."

He catches your waist and pulls you back in for another, longer kiss that leaves you both breathless and panting. His voice lowers, like it's a secret, "I'll bring you back some batarangs. See you in a few days?"

"See you in a few days," You echo, and he winks at you as he tugs on his helmet, leaving out your window.

Sure enough, you get your batarangs when he gets home. It takes some convincing, a few kisses that leave you senseless, but you get Jason to help you mount your batarang collection alongside the sword and quiver.

"I should get you a plasma rifle next," he drawls, admiring your growing wall of weapons.

"I think I'd fall over if I tried to shoot one of those," You point out, all smiles.

"I'll teach you," he tells you, hooking an arm around your waist to draw you closer.

Jason's a man of his word, and sure enough, he brings you home a plasma cannon after his next mission.

You only destroy most of the shooting range in the batcave when he lets you try it out.

[amethystarachnid]

SKY ROCKETS AND ROBOTS - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, some angst, a little bit of spicy

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Part 2

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ TW(s): Y/N's ex left her when she got pregnant, Tony is a softie here

ᯓ★ Timeline: before the Avengers were formed

ᯓ★ Request: Tony stark × reader! single mom please? With fluff and smut 😅😅💐 ( @binsan)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You were once a bright young engineer, fresh out of MIT with dreams as big as the sky. You had a passion for technology, a sharp mind, and a heart full of ambition. Then life happened, in ways you never expected. You met someone, fell in love, and things moved fast. Maybe too fast. A whirlwind romance turned into an unexpected pregnancy, and before you knew it, you were a mother to a beautiful baby girl named Lily.

But your partner? He wasn’t ready. He disappeared from your life, leaving you alone to figure things out. At first, it was overwhelming, balancing work, the responsibilities of motherhood, and the heartbreak of abandonment. But you pulled through. You took up freelance work, designing software and small tech solutions from home, juggling conference calls while nursing, coding through the night after bedtime. You got used to it, became stronger, more resilient. Now, your daughter is five, a bundle of energy and curiosity who’s inherited your love for science and technology.

You’ve come a long way since those early days of struggle, but there’s still a part of you that wonders if you’ll ever find someone who’ll love both you and Lily. Someone who won’t run at the first sign of difficulty.

And then one day, you meet Tony Stark.

🚀

You don’t expect your day to take a turn like this. It’s a warm Saturday afternoon, and you’re at a local science expo — a rare treat for you and Lily. She’s dragging you from one exhibit to another, her little hands pulling on yours with excited tugs. It’s moments like these that remind you why you push so hard. Seeing her wide-eyed and full of wonder makes every sleepless night worth it.

You’re at an exhibit featuring cutting-edge AI when you feel her stop abruptly.

“Mommy, look! That's Iron Man!” Lily’s voice is filled with awe as she points to the tall figure standing a few feet away, surrounded by a small crowd. You follow her finger, and your heart skips a beat.

Tony Stark.

There’s no mistaking him, dressed in a sharp blazer and sunglasses, exuding that signature arrogance and charm you’ve only ever seen on TV. He’s in the middle of a casual conversation with someone, but even from here, you can feel the aura of importance surrounding him.

“Yeah, that’s Iron Man,” you murmur, feeling a bit like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t expected to run into someone like him.

But Lily, being the fearless little adventurer she is, takes off running toward him before you can stop her. You’re quick on her heels, heart pounding as you call her name.

“Lily, wait!”

But it’s too late. She’s already tugging on Tony Stark’s pant leg by the time you catch up, looking up at him with those wide, curious eyes.

“Hi, Iron Man! I like your robots,” she says brightly, as if she’s talking to any random adult. Tony glances down, pulling his sunglasses off to reveal a pair of surprisingly kind eyes as he kneels to her level.

“Hey there, kiddo. You’ve got good taste.” He flashes a grin, and for a moment, you see why people love him so much. There’s something disarming about his easy confidence.

You finally reach them, feeling flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry—she’s… really into tech. She didn’t mean to—”

But Tony waves a hand dismissively, standing up to his full height and giving you a once-over. His gaze lingers just a fraction too long, and you suddenly feel like you’re under a microscope.

“No harm done,” he says, his tone surprisingly light. “She’s got a future, clearly. Knows how to pick role models.”

You chuckle awkwardly, still trying to process that you’re standing in front of the Tony Stark. Up close, he’s even more intimidating, but in a weirdly magnetic way. There’s a spark in his eyes that speaks of brilliance, mischief, and something deeper you can’t quite put your finger on.

“She loves Iron Man,” you say, trying to regain some composure. “She’s been obsessed with building things since she could stack blocks. I can’t seem to keep her away from anything mechanical.”

Tony arches a brow, glancing down at Lily who’s now excitedly talking about the miniature rocket she tried to build last week.

“Is that so?” he says, crouching down again, giving Lily his full attention. “A mini rocket, huh? Did it work?”

Lily shakes her head, her pigtails swaying. “It almost did. But it went boom.”

Tony chuckles, ruffling her hair lightly. “Sometimes that’s how the best inventions start. Next time, try using a lower combustion rate. Less ‘boom,’ more ‘whoosh.’”

You’re surprised by how gentle he is with her, how effortlessly he connects with a child, that you don't have the heart to tell him that it was you who did the major part of the building process. For a moment, you just watch them, your chest tightening at the sight of Lily’s joy. It’s rare for her to interact with anyone like this, especially someone who doesn’t treat her like a kid.

He stands up again, turning to you with a smirk. “She’s smart. Gets it from her mom?”

You flush slightly at the compliment, feeling a bit tongue-tied under his gaze. “I guess you could say that. I was an engineer before…” You trail off, not sure why you’re suddenly oversharing. Something about Tony Stark makes it hard not to.

Before you can say more, he interrupts. “Let me guess — you’re still an engineer. Just doing the mom-engineer thing now. That’s no small feat.”

You blink, caught off guard by how perceptive he is. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I know a thing or two about multitasking. Running a company and saving the world — it’s basically the same as raising a kid, right?”

You laugh despite yourself, relaxing a little. He’s not what you expected. Less distant, more… human.

“Sure, except your robots actually listen to you,” you quip, and Tony grins.

“Most of the time,” he admits. “So, any chance I could take a look at that rocket project? I’ve got a thing for fixing ‘booms.’”

Your heart skips again at the casual offer, but before you can reply, Lily pipes up, bouncing on her toes.

“Can we, Mommy? Please?”

You glance between her eager face and Tony’s amused expression. This is surreal. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at both of you — like he’s actually interested, not just humoring a fan. Like he sees you.

Maybe this isn’t a bad idea after all.

As you walk beside Tony Stark, weaving through the crowd, you can't quite believe what's happening. This kind of thing doesn't happen to people like you. Yet here you are, with Lily practically skipping ahead, chattering excitedly about rockets and robots, while Tony listens with genuine interest.

“So,” he says, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your theory on the combustion failure? Too much fuel or not enough stabilization?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden technical question. You’d been bracing yourself for more of his charm or sarcasm, but here he is, actually engaging with you on a deeper level. You’re impressed, though it makes sense—he is Tony Stark, after all.

“Stabilization, mostly,” you reply, falling into a rhythm of conversation. “The design was sound, but we didn’t account for the weight distribution. It shifted mid-launch and threw everything off.”

He nods thoughtfully, like he's analyzing every detail. “Classic mistake. I had a similar issue with one of my early suits—though, you know, a little less ‘mini rocket,’ a little more ‘metal suit crashing into a building.’ Same basic concept, though.”

You laugh at the mental image, feeling a bit more at ease. “Yeah, I imagine the stakes were a little higher for you.”

Tony shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, let’s just say property damage and I have a complicated relationship.”

Lily turns around, walking backward as she looks up at Tony with wide eyes. “Did you blow up a building?!”

He grins, glancing down at her. “A few, but mostly on purpose. Don’t try that at home, kid.”

Lily giggles, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She’s clearly in awe of him, and it’s hard to blame her. You feel a bit of that awe yourself, though you’re trying not to show it.

“So, where’s this rocket of yours?” Tony asks, glancing around like he's half-expecting it to pop out of nowhere.

You clear your throat, feeling a bit sheepish. “Oh, um… it’s back at our apartment. We didn’t exactly bring it to the expo. I wasn’t expecting to run into… well, you.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing more pronounced. “What, you don’t carry failed rocket prototypes everywhere you go? Amateur move.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Tony taps his chin, pretending to think hard. “Tell you what. Why don’t you two swing by my place later? I’ve got a full lab, and I’m sure we can find something that won’t blow up—at least not right away.”

Your heart skips at the offer. Is he serious? Inviting you to Stark Tower like it’s the most casual thing in the world? You glance down at Lily, who’s looking up at you with pleading eyes, clearly hoping you’ll say yes.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying not to sound too shocked. “I mean, we wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Tony waves a hand dismissively. “Intrude? Nah. Besides, I’ve been meaning to show off my new toys to someone who actually appreciates them. Kids are way better at that than most adults.” He glances down at Lily, then adds with a wink, “Plus, I’ve got juice boxes.”

Lily practically jumps up and down. “Mommy, can we go? Please, please, please?”

You hesitate for a moment, weighing the surreal situation. But something about Tony’s easy demeanor, the way he’s connected with Lily, and even the way he’s made you feel comfortable makes it hard to say no. It’s not every day you get a chance like this, and you know Lily will talk about it for weeks if you turn it down.

“Alright,” you say, giving in with a smile. “I guess we’re going to Stark Tower.”

Tony grins, looking genuinely pleased with your answer. “Great. Let’s make it a field trip.”

🚀

An hour later, you find yourself walking through the sleek, high-tech halls of Stark Tower. The whole place feels like something out of a futuristic movie, and you can’t help but feel a little out of place. But Tony, ever the showman, makes sure neither you nor Lily feel that way for long.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says with a grand gesture, like he’s introducing you to some royal palace. “I was going for ‘modest,’ but you know, things escalated.”

Lily’s eyes are practically bugging out of her head as she looks around, taking in the shiny surfaces, the impressive tech displays, and the overall coolness of the place. “This is so cool,” she breathes.

You can’t help but agree. “Yeah, this is… incredible.”

Tony leads you both to his lab, where holograms flicker in the air, and sleek machines hum quietly in the background. It’s every bit as impressive as you’d imagined—maybe more so. He walks over to a workbench, tapping a few buttons on a console until a holographic blueprint of a rocket hovers in front of him.

“Alright, kiddo,” he says, crouching down to Lily’s level. “Let’s see what we’re working with. Tell me about your rocket.”

Lily beams, launching into an enthusiastic explanation of her project, complete with wild hand gestures. Tony listens intently, nodding at all the right moments, occasionally throwing in a comment or suggestion.

You stand back, watching the two of them interact. It’s surreal, seeing Tony Stark—the Tony Stark—so genuinely engaged with your daughter. He’s patient, encouraging, and—despite his usual sarcasm—there’s a warmth in the way he talks to her that catches you off guard.

As Lily finishes her explanation, Tony stands up and looks over at you. “Sounds like you’ve got a real prodigy on your hands.”

You smile, feeling a swell of pride. “She’s pretty special, yeah.”

Tony taps his chin thoughtfully, then flashes you a grin. “You know, I don’t usually offer internships to five-year-olds, but I could make an exception.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe in a few years.”

“Fair enough,” Tony replies, still grinning. “But seriously, if she ever wants a tour of the lab—or you do—just say the word.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by the offer. “You’re full of surprises today.”

Tony shrugs, nonchalant. “What can I say? I’m a generous guy. Plus, I like hanging out with people who don’t try to sell me on their latest ‘groundbreaking’ invention every five minutes.”

The three of you spend the next hour tinkering with the rocket design. Tony gives Lily some gentle guidance, teaching her a few tricks of the trade while making sure to keep things light and fun. You can tell she’s having the time of her life, and honestly, so are you. You’ve never seen her this animated, this confident.

As the afternoon winds down, Tony walks you both back to the lobby, hands in his pockets, his usual easy smirk back in place.

“Well, that was fun,” he says. “I’ll have my people send over the specs we worked on. Maybe next time, we can tackle world domination.”

You chuckle. “I’ll let you know if we’re free for that.”

Tony winks at Lily, who’s practically buzzing with excitement. “And hey, kid—next time you’ve got a rocket that goes ‘boom,’ give me a call. We’ll fix it together.”

Lily grins, waving enthusiastically. “Okay! Bye, Iron Man!”

As you leave Stark Tower, you can’t help but glance back at Tony one last time. He gives you a casual wave before turning back toward his lab, and you can’t shake the feeling that today was more than just a chance encounter.

It feels like the beginning of something. Something new. Something… different.

And you can’t wait to see where it goes.

🚀

Over the next few weeks, your life takes on a surreal, almost dream-like quality as Tony Stark begins to weave his way into your world. What starts as a few casual meet-ups, mostly centered around Lily’s fascination with all things tech, turns into something much more.

The first time he invites you both back to Stark Tower, it’s under the pretense of helping Lily with her latest invention—a robot that she’s determined to build from scratch. You sit back, watching as Tony patiently explains complex concepts to your five-year-old daughter, all while making it fun for her. There’s a tenderness in the way he interacts with her that surprises you. Tony Stark, the world-renowned billionaire with a reputation for being difficult, is kind and patient with a child, in ways you never would have expected.

You’re impressed, of course. But more than that, you find yourself drawn to the man behind the Iron Man persona.

It starts with little things. The way Tony catches your eye when Lily says something particularly cute or brilliant, the small smirk he gives when he knows you’re trying to hold back a laugh. He makes a habit of throwing sarcastic comments your way, but you soon realize it’s his way of flirting—teasing you in that playful, witty way he’s known for.

"You know," he says one afternoon while you’re watching him help Lily with a mechanical arm for her robot, “I think I deserve some kind of award for this. ‘Best Teacher to a Mini-Engineer.’ Maybe a medal. Or a statue.”

You smirk, folding your arms across your chest. “Oh, absolutely. I’m sure the world’s been waiting for a bronze Tony Stark to grace Central Park.”

He grins, that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “I knew you were smart.”

It’s in these small moments that you find yourself opening up to him. You’ve always been independent, not allowing yourself to lean on anyone for help, but Tony’s different. He’s been through his own struggles, carried his own burdens, and while you’re still cautious, you find comfort in the fact that he gets it. He doesn’t judge you for being a single mom or for the sacrifices you’ve had to make. If anything, he admires it.

"Raising a kid and working as an engineer?" he says one night over dinner—yes, dinner. He’d invited you and Lily over for what he called "a Stark special," which turned out to be takeout pizza and some ridiculous dessert made by his AI assistant. "That’s a superhero gig right there."

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m pretty sure saving the world in a metal suit still beats making school lunches and fixing leaky faucets.”

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone light but serious, “you do both. No suit needed.”

That night, when you leave, you find yourself thinking about him long after Lily has fallen asleep. There's something about Tony that lingers. Maybe it's his charm, or maybe it's the way he looks at you like you’re more than just a mom balancing a million things—like he sees the person you were before all the responsibilities took over.

As time passes, the two of you fall into an easy rhythm. You, Tony, and Lily have your little routine now, with frequent visits to Stark Tower becoming almost a weekend tradition. What surprises you most is how seamlessly Tony has integrated into your life—and not just with Lily. He asks about your work, your passions, the things you’ve had to put on hold since becoming a single mom. He pushes you to take up some of your old engineering projects, even offering his lab space if you ever want to tinker.

“You could use the space when I’m not around,” he says one evening, nonchalant as ever. “There’s always room for another genius around here.”

You laugh it off, though your heart skips a beat. “I’m pretty sure one genius is enough.”

Tony arches an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “You’re right. With you here, we might be over capacity.”

As the weeks turn into months, you realize you’ve grown used to having Tony around. He’s no longer just the famous billionaire who showed up at a science expo one day. He’s become a friend, someone you can talk to, someone you can rely on.

But there’s more to it than just friendship. You feel it in the way your heart flutters when he leans a little too close during one of his sarcastic quips, or the warmth that spreads through your chest when he smiles at you—really smiles, with that soft, almost vulnerable look in his eyes. You find yourself looking forward to the moments when it's just the two of you, standing on the balcony of Stark Tower late at night, talking about everything and nothing while Lily sleeps soundly in the guest room.

One evening, after one of those long, late-night talks, something shifts. You’re standing on the balcony, the city skyline stretched out before you, the cool breeze brushing your skin. Tony’s beside you, quiet for once, just watching the city lights. There’s a rare stillness about him, and you feel the weight of it, like he’s on the verge of saying something important.

“You know,” he says after a long pause, his voice quieter than usual, “I didn’t expect this.”

You glance at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He turns to face you, and for a moment, he’s not the confident, sarcastic Tony Stark. There’s something raw in his expression, something vulnerable. “This. Us. You and Lily.” He swallows, as if the words are difficult for him. “I’ve spent so much time being Iron Man, or the guy who fixes problems, that I forgot what it’s like to just… be with someone. To care about people who aren’t expecting me to save the world.”

Your heart skips. His honesty catches you off guard, but you can tell it’s not something he shares often. And suddenly, you realize that you feel the same way.

“You’ve been… different for us, too,” you admit, your voice soft. “I wasn’t looking for anyone, and definitely not someone like you, but…” You trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence. How do you explain that Tony Stark has become more than just a fixture in your life? That you’ve started to fall for him, for all his quirks and complexities, for the way he’s seamlessly become part of your world?

Before you can find the right words, Tony steps closer. His eyes hold yours, that familiar spark of mischief still there, but tempered with something deeper. “I think,” he says, his voice low, “you and I are a pretty good team.”

You smile, feeling the weight of what’s unspoken between you. “Yeah,” you whisper. “We are.”

And then, without another word, Tony leans in. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But when your lips meet, there’s a spark, an electric current that runs through you both, confirming what you’ve known for a while now.

This is real. This is something worth holding on to.

🚀

The decision to make your relationship with Tony Stark official doesn’t happen in a single moment—it’s a gradual shift, one that feels inevitable after months of stolen glances, lingering touches, and nights spent talking on his balcony. But when it does happen, it’s perfect in its simplicity.

It starts one morning in his penthouse, a few months after that first kiss. You’ve been spending more time there, with Lily (who Tony affectionately refers to as "the little genius") practically making his lab her second home. The three of you have fallen into a comfortable rhythm, a little makeshift family that somehow feels like it’s always been meant to be.

On this particular morning, you wake up tangled in Tony’s sheets, the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his arm draped lazily over your waist. You turn your head slightly, smiling to yourself as you hear the soft hum of his breathing. For a man who seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, he looks surprisingly peaceful when he sleeps.

As you shift to move, Tony tightens his arm around you, pulling you back against him with a sleepy grumble. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You chuckle, your voice hushed in the early morning quiet. “Trying to escape before your little apprentice wakes up.”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Let her tinker. She’s practically running the lab anyway.” His lips graze your shoulder as he speaks, and you feel a familiar spark of heat ripple through you at his touch.

“You’re terrible,” you murmur, though there’s no real bite in your words. You’ve gotten used to Tony’s brand of affection—playful, but with an edge of intensity that never fails to make your heart race.

“Mmm, terrible, but irresistible.” His voice is still thick with sleep, but there’s a hint of mischief in it, the same mischief that always makes your pulse quicken. He shifts slightly, his hand trailing from your waist down to your thigh, fingers brushing lightly against your skin in a way that’s both teasing and possessive.

You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze. His eyes are half-lidded, but there’s a familiar hunger there that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. “You’re definitely full of yourself,” you say, though your voice is softer now, breathier.

Tony’s smirk grows, his hand slipping beneath the sheets to pull you closer. “And you love it.”

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours, and any thought of protest melts away in the heat of the kiss. His hand grips your thigh, pulling your leg over his waist as he deepens the kiss, the familiar intensity building between you. It’s slow at first, a lazy sort of desire, but it doesn’t take long before you’re both lost in each other, the rest of the world fading away.

Later, as the sun filters through the curtains and you’re both tangled together in the sheets, a comfortable silence fills the room. Tony’s fingers are tracing absent patterns on your arm, and you can’t help but smile at how natural it feels, how easy.

“Have you thought about… telling people?” you ask softly, your head resting on his chest.

Tony raises an eyebrow, though he doesn’t seem surprised by the question. “Telling people, as in the media?”

You nod, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. Being with Tony Stark comes with a certain level of exposure, and while you’ve been okay with the low profile you’ve kept so far, part of you wonders what it would mean to go public.

Tony is quiet for a moment, then he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. “Hey, I don’t care what they say out there,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “If you want to keep things private for now, we can do that. But if you’re asking if I’m ready to go public…”

His thumb brushes over your cheek, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Your heart flutters at his words, warmth blooming in your chest. “I don’t care about the media,” you admit. “I just… I want to make sure we’re ready. That Lily’s ready.”

Tony’s expression softens at the mention of your daughter. “Lily’s already got me wrapped around her finger. I’d be more worried about how I’m going to survive that.”

You laugh, but the sincerity in his words brings a lump to your throat. Tony’s relationship with Lily has grown in ways you never expected. He’s been patient, playful, and completely devoted to her. And seeing them together has only deepened your feelings for him.

“Okay,” you say finally, smiling at him. “Let’s do it. Let’s go public.”

When the news breaks, the media goes into a frenzy. The headlines scream about “Tony Stark’s New Flame,” and “Iron Man’s Mystery Woman.” Paparazzi photos of you and Tony walking hand in hand through Central Park with Lily are splashed across every tabloid and news outlet.

To your surprise, the response is largely positive. While some outlets speculate about Tony’s past relationships and his infamous bachelor reputation, most seem genuinely intrigued by the idea of Tony Stark settling down, especially with someone who isn’t from the celebrity world.

The tabloids nickname you “The Genius and the Heart” and seem fascinated by how “normal” your life is compared to Tony’s glamorous lifestyle. There are articles praising you for balancing being a single mom with your engineering career, while others focus on Tony’s softer side, now that he’s seen as a father figure to your daughter.

You try to ignore most of the noise, but Tony, of course, has fun with it. One morning, you catch him scrolling through a gossip site, shaking his head in amusement.

“They think I’m domestic now,” he says, pretending to be offended. “I mean, can you imagine me, Tony Stark, settling down with a family?”

You roll your eyes, sitting beside him on the couch. “You do realize you’re proving them right by reading that, right?”

He grins, tossing his phone aside before pulling you into his lap. “Let them think what they want. I’ve got everything I need right here.”

The moment you realize how much your relationship with Tony has changed comes one evening when you’re back at the penthouse after a long day. Tony’s in the kitchen with Lily, helping her with a science project that’s somehow turned into an impromptu baking session. The sound of Lily’s giggles fills the space, and you’re watching them from the doorway, a warm smile on your face.

Tony’s crouched down, talking to Lily as they decorate cupcakes—his version of “science.” You’re about to step in and join them when you hear it. Lily looks up at Tony, eyes wide with excitement, and says, “Can I put the sprinkles on, Daddy?”

Your breath catches. It’s the first time she’s ever called him that, and for a moment, you freeze, unsure how Tony will react.

But Tony doesn’t miss a beat. He smiles, ruffling her hair and handing her the sprinkles. “Go for it, kiddo. Just don’t get too carried away.”

Your heart swells, a mix of joy and disbelief washing over you. Lily’s words hang in the air, and when Tony glances up at you, there’s a softness in his expression that takes your breath away. He’s not just playing a part—he’s become a part of your life in ways you never imagined.

Later, when Lily’s asleep, you and Tony find yourselves curled up on the couch, the weight of the day settling into a comfortable silence. You rest your head on his chest, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“She called you ‘Daddy,’” you murmur softly, still processing the moment.

Tony’s hand tightens around yours, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. “Yeah, she did.”

You glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all you see is a man who has found his place—who has chosen to be here, with you and Lily.

“Are you okay with that?” you ask, your voice a little unsteady.

Tony looks down at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I’ve never been more okay with anything,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m all in. With both of you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but they’re tears of happiness, of relief. You reach up, cupping his face as you pull him into a kiss—slow, tender, and filled with all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long.

When you finally pull away, Tony brushes a thumb across your cheek, his smile soft but full of promise. “So, what do you say? Think you can handle me as part of the family?”

You laugh, your heart feeling light. “I think we’ve been handling you just fine.”

And as you settle back into his arms, you know that this—this—is exactly where you’re meant to be. Together. A family.

Forever.

okay, this was so cute to write <3 I love writing Tony as a softie, because I know deep down he is one.

[overtake]

Non-driver Maxiel AU where Max lives in London and is forced into a run club by George.

Warning: mention of vomiting

The sun is obscenely low in sky when George raps at Max’s bedroom door. It’s soft at first, then graduates into louder and louder pounding that Max can’t ignore, even in this hungover haze. He drags his heavy limbs to the shaking bedroom door and flings it open, hoping his visible rage and pillow-creased face make George fuck right off.

“What do you want?” 

George is perky, that irritating fucking smile accompanying clear skin and bright under-eyes. There’s no signs of last night’s adventures left on his face. He’s also wearing the ugliest, most neon green workout set Max has ever laid eyes on. The shorts are obscenely short. Max isn’t wholly convinced George isn’t aspiring for the sex offender registry if he wears those in public.

“You promised you’d attend run club with me,” George says. He begins dropping into little side-to-side leg stretches, and Max has to avert his eyes to avoid being flashed. 

“Mate, I absolutely did not do that.” If a criminal was holding Max’s family hostage and said the only way to save them was running a 5K, he’d have to beg the guy for a chance to say goodbye.

“Yes, you did,” George protests. “It was after that guy you hit on turned out to be straight.”

As if Max needed to be reminded of that part, which does come back to him quite clearly, along with the many g&ts he downed after.

George, rather unwisely, keeps talking. “I said it was a great way to meet people, then Alex said you wouldn’t last a single kilometre in a run club, and then you bet him 10 quid you could finish the run and agreed to come today.” 

Max blinks at him dumbly. To be fair, it does sound like the kind of stupid, competitive bet he’d get into with George’s new boyfriend.

They all technically work for the same company, but Max is in IT and Alex was always tech-literate enough to never need Max's help. Ever since Alex all but moved into this flat — which George's mysteriously wealthy parents pay for, so Max shuts his mouth and deals — they have become well acquainted. George has effectively weaponized their innate need to antagonize each other into fights over who can dry dishes faster, sort out the recycling best, and hang framed photos the straightest.

This, however, is a whole new level.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Max says. He moves to slam the door in George’s face, but George swiftly kicks his foot in the gap.

“Fine, but I’m telling Alex you backed out,” he threatens. He’s serious, too. He’s been begging them to join this run club with him for ages, but it’s been a losing battle against two people who hate both early wakeups and exercise. 

Max thinks of Alex’s smug, delighted face when Max is forced to hand over the money — and he’ll make a whole show of it, probably in front of all their co-workers — and grits his teeth. “I’ll fucking go, but I’m moving out.” 

“That loses its effectiveness when you threaten it every other day,” George informs him, then drops into a lunge that exposes his matching neon green briefs. This is going to be the worst morning of Max’s life.

They roll up to the meeting spot five minutes late and both extremely grumpy: Max at the whole situation, and George at Max because he apparently dressed too slowly. He’d dragged him by his wrist the whole way there. 

George is instantly greeted and swept away into a crowd of runners who could be his fucking clones, short shorts and all. Max briefly wonders if he can escape without George noticing, but as he begins a shuffle toward the edges of the group, someone catches his eye and begins walking over.

“You’re new!” he says, just as eerily enthusiastic as the rest of this group, like it’s not literally six in the morning. Max is beginning to wonder if he’s starring in a horror movie.

The man flashes perfect teeth at Max. At least he’s extremely beautiful. The least this group could do is give Max something worth looking at if they’re planning to ritually sacrifice him at the end. 

“I’m Max. George made me come,” he says, sticking his thumb out at his evil, detestable flatmate. Max will be unleashing the cats into George’s locked office, where he keeps his priceless collection of vintage teapots on display.

“Oh, he’s always talked about bringing his boyfriend! I’m Carlos. I founded this group.” 

Max tries to resist gagging at more than just leftover gin sloshing around his stomach. Judging by Carlos’ amused expression, he does not succeed. “Flatmate. Definitely not his boyfriend,” he corrects. 

Carlos runs a tan hand through his beautiful, flowing hair, and Max doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s not watching the movement. “Welcome, George’s not-boyfriend. Let’s get you sorted into a pace group. What’s your usual time?” 

“I haven’t run since I played football in school. I will be walking behind the slowest group.” 

Carlos laughs as if Max just made a hilarious quip, which is vaguely concerning seeing as he could not be more serious. “Just run at whatever pace works for you. We believe in pace inclusivity here. You’ll have Daniel over there hanging behind the pack today so nobody gets separated, and we’re just doing 5K today. You’ll be fine.” 

“Just 5K,” Max repeats flatly, but Carlos is already gone. Fuck his life. He’s swearing off all bets with Alex for the rest of time. 

He tries to get a peek at the mysterious Daniel that he’ll seemingly be spending loads of time with, but all he can see is the back of a worn navy cap, long sleeves, and tight compression leggings under shorts. At least he’s not an exhibitionist like George’s little neon crew. 

Carlos stands on a nearby bench, gets everyones attention with a clap, and starts on some monologue about the beauty of morning runs. Max tunes him out and wonders if it might have been a good idea to stretch.

When Carlos gets the run started, Max doesn’t even try to move near George. He lets himself fall back with the only other person who looks vaguely close to struggling. The dude's in an ankle brace, but still, Max is able to keep pace with him for a solid two minutes.

Things start getting a bit shaky 1K in, but Max can still see some of the other runners. He knows the run club pace guy should be somewhere behind him, but he can't turn around to check. If he pauses for even a second, there’s no way he’s making it through.

He’s definitely wheezing quite loudly, and his legs are cramping in ways he never thought possible. Every new step aches. His four-year-old worn down shoes probably couldn’t survive another London rainstorm, let alone an actual run. He knows the wrinkly t-shirt he wore to bed is probably completely drenched in sweat, but he successfully gasps through another kilometre.

Only three to go before Alex has to pay up, and that thought is pushing Max through. He’s almost completely lost track of the group by now, and he can hear the slow tread of the poor guy stuck with him getting closer. The guy — Daniel, he thinks — calls out to him as he approaches. 

“Mate, if you don’t mind, I’m just going to run beside you so you don’t veer off-path.” 

If Max could hear anything over the sound of his own heavy breathing, he might have clocked the Australian accent and familiar cadence. Instead, he focuses so hard on not tripping over a now-unravelling shoelace that he instead misses a giant fucking stick in his way and eats shit straight onto the pavement. 

He sits with his back curled over his scraped-up knees, trying to remember a time when his chest and lungs didn’t physically ache with every short breath. He can feel last night’s drinks and 2 AM kebab churning around his stomach.  

“Are you okay?” a kind, concerned voice asks. There’s a hand lightly touching his back, and it’s making Max feel sickly over-warm in his already burning body. 

Max turns, looks into Daniel’s eyes, and promptly vomits onto his ex-fiancé's pristine white shoes. 

[laura1633]

Here are all the lovely fics , I would be so grateful if you could give these fics a read and leave some nice comments for the authors who took the time to write them. 💕

It's been a great gun fight (You drew blood, I set myself on fire) by LeonSolo There will be one religion in Italy, Charles Leclerc. On his knees, he will pray to a God he was supposed to kill.

Red Light at Dawn by LuciThornz Five months ago Max was kidnapped by pirates. Miraculously he was found safe, and now his father has arranged for him to start courting the Governor’s son. But it’s not that simple, Max hasn’t told anyone the whole story of what happened at sea, getting captured was never part of the plan, neither was falling in love. Now Max has a plan to get back on the open ocean and find the pirate he fell in love with before it’s too late. The funny thing about plans is they never do go smoothly.

The Tortured Driver's Department by Shadow_reads Prompt Fill for Lestappen Birthday Challenge:  Charles said he'd love to have his own F1 team in the future, and Max already has Verstappen.com. Max is also experienced and is most suited to being a team principal. Their shared retirement arc is where they own a team together: Charles handles the press conferences and media, while Max focuses on the data and strategy.

Forever Love by stealmysunshine Charles isn’t going to wait around for Max to pop the question. Who says that there is a preordained question popper? There are two people in this relationship and Charles has every right to show Max just how precious he is and make him feel loved.

(k)not in public by bananasomg When Max accidentally invites friends to tag along on his and Charles' holiday to Greece (which Charles has coined their mating oasis trip), Charles isn't phased, and Max is easily convinced. Hallowed Ground by crimsonmidnight When an FIA racing law forces Omega Charles to take part in a mandatory mating hunt after getting the Sauber seat, Alpha Max vows to do everything it takes to claim him as his own.

The Wait Is Worth It by crimsonmidnight Max Verstappen's adventures in purchasing a fucking machine and using it when Charles gets an attitude.

Sutures by jadesaturn After years of grueling battles, academic rivals Max and Charles part ways upon graduating from medical school until they meet again as surgical interns at the same hospital. Their age-old feud continues, as expected. Grey’s Anatomy Enemies to Lovers but make it Formula 1.

A taste of the divine by (anonymous on ao3) female!Charles ends up losing her virginity to Max and he is going through it.

i'd wanna hold you (just for a while) by Kashoot Charles doesn't normally want to regress, choosing to ignore his needs in favor of keeping busy with all his other obligations. "I'm a racing driver, Max, not a baby!" Max knows better.

Preloved by LaurawritingF1 After getting caught up in another scandal, Charles, the crown prince of Monaco, is sent to an 'Omega Establishment' to find himself an omega in the hopes it will settle him down. Charles is not at all interested in picking out a pretty housewife for himself and is intending to return home empty handed until he meets Max, an omega housed up in the 'Preloved' section of the establishment and clutching hold of his pup tightly.

Everything Changes, Yet Nothing Does by Shadow_Reads The sun was setting over Monaco, casting a warm golden glow over the city. The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore provided a serene backdrop, contrasting with the turbulent emotions swirling within Charles. Tonight was the night he would ask Max to spend the rest of their lives together.

how you get the boy(s) by amelielacy In which world-famous streamer Max falls in love with artsy single dad Charles.

Hunting Love by himmywimmy Charles becomes an unwilling participant in the pack’s annual mating run and to protect himself, he asks his alpha friend, Carlos, to catch him. But as the night of the mating run unfolds, another alpha seemed to be on the hunt for him.

5 moments of chaos and +1 moment of peace by LaurawritingF1 Charles and Max are retired and dealing with the chaos of looking after their children during the summer vacation. Jimmy, Sassy and Leo also make appearances. Them the breaks, they don’t come gently by imamessofawriter “They just announced that Charles is retiring.” Charles suddenly announces his retirement and then appears to disappear completely.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The evening shift is quiet. You don’t mind the low din of the atrium. The cafe offers the only light to the empty lobby. Hours ago, it was a rush of bodies and voices, now, the shops have closed down and the sign above you remains lit as the sole beacon in the business plaza. 

The slower hours are more routine than the frantic mornings filled with early risers desperate for their first dose of caffeine. You did a few weeks of that before you hopped on the evening’s rota. It gives you time to read between baking and cleaning. 

The front doors open and close, echoing through the space. It’s eerie this late at night but you it doesn’t bother you as much as it once does. The footsteps that follow add to the unease of their approach. You recognise the man by his silhouette. 

The marquee glow limns his harsh features, the stubble on his jaw adding to the sharp angles, his dark hair and brows give him a sinister slant. You smile as you stand from the stool and pour him a black coffee. You ring him up before he even gets to the counter. 

“Evening, sir,” you greet him. You still don’t know his name. All your other regulars like to chat. He doesn’t. “Black.” 

He flicks a card up between his index and middle fingers. The stamps across the rows add up to a free drink. You take it, brushing his calloused fingertips as you do. 

“Oh, a free drink. Exciting.” You cancel the transaction and slide his cup forward, “enjoy.” 

He grumbles and takes the cup. He moves to the other end of the kiosk and grabs a lid and sleeve. As he walks away, you bid him a good night. He never says much, if anything. 

You go back to sanitizing the frother. The work isn’t so dull when you have nothing else to do. The night wears on as the sky softens through the glass walls of the atrium   

Dayani arrives just before five to take over. You hand her the keys and balance the till before you go. She sends you off with the dread of the shift ahead. 

Out on the street, the lull remains. Not for much longer. The bus routes will pick up and the daily commuters will clog the streets. Your trek home is five blocks but not too bad considering. You share a loft with two other girls but you rarely run into them. You all work different shifts in different borroughs. 

Your room is at the rear of the old brick building. The legislated fire escape crosses your window and casts a shadow through the sheer curtains. You undress and unwind in your single bed. The room is small and not exactly worth the cost but it’s a roof over your head. 

You sleep until just after one. The city had you waking in spurts at the honk of an angry driver or the shouts of rowdy pedestrians. You eat the stale scone you claimed from work and have instant coffee to wash it down. 

You go through the usual. You wake up little by little and drag yourself out to the shower. You catch a glimpse of one of your roommates. Lottie barely seems to notice you as she carries a basket out the door. 

When you’re done washing up, you pull on your sweats and a loose tee. You waste some time watching TV on your phone then plug it in so you have some juice left when you leave. You eat a microwaved tray of pasta and change into your uniform. You do up your hair and face, nothing too much, and count the minutes until you’re due to leave. 

As exciting as the city can be, you can’t afford that part of it. You work, you sleep, you get by. 

Xander has an hour overlap with you before he goes. He tells you about all his midterms and the party he wants to ditch his studying for. It’s only an elective course anyway. He leaves in indecision. 

You never finished school. You did one year and dropped out. You did well enough but you couldn’t afford it. Not even the local community college in your hometown. Funny, you still came all the way out here to scrape pennies. 

The last rush of the day passes through. Those on the way to their own overnight shifts; security guards, hotel clerks, and all others. 

The silence sets in. You play around on your phone. The battery dies a lot quicker lately so you make yourself quiet the matching game and put it in your pocket. You pull out the novel you keep hidden behind the till and read until the door opens and closes. 

Same time, same man. His black hair swallows up the light of the sign above as you pour his coffee. You get him a new card and stamp it, handing it over with your usual smiling nicety. Still no response. He goes to grab his lid and sleeve. 

You wait patiently. He doesn’t march off like usual. You peek over as he strides along the counter. He drops a bill in the tip jar. You thank him. Still no answer. 

He walks off and you look in the cup. You can’t believe it. You snatch up the bill and push through the door at the side of the kiosk. You hurry after his shadow. 

“Sir, sir, I think you made some mistake--” the door closes heavily and his figure passes outside the glass panels. You can’t go that far without locking up. Oh well, he’ll be back tomorrow and you can let him know. 

You walk back to the cafe stand and dip back behind. You unfold the hundred dollar bill. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s a joke. Looks pretty real when you hold it up to the light. 

[inkspiredwriting]

Snapshots of Love

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Hey guys surprise surprise. I'm posting another one shot today because unfortunately I won't be able to do it tomorrow. Have a great day :)

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves sighed as he walked into the cozy living room of their home, rubbing his eyes after a long day of work. As he stepped inside, he noticed a familiar scene that instantly brightened his mood: his wife Y/n sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a scatter of old photo albums.

Y/n looked up from a particularly thick album and smiled warmly at Five. "Hey, I found something interesting in the attic today."

Five raised an eyebrow and walked over to her, intrigued. "Is that so? What did you find?"

She patted the spot next to her, and he sat down, leaning in to see the open pages filled with photographs. "I found this old photo album. It’s full of pictures from our life."

Five’s eyes softened as he gazed at the album, a flood of memories rushing back. "I remember that album. I didn’t think we still had it."

Y/n chuckled and flipped through the pages, revealing snapshots of their journey together. "Here, look at this one."

The photo showed a much younger Five and Y/n, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, grinning from ear to ear. Five was holding a map upside down, looking completely lost, while Y/n was laughing hysterically.

“I remember that trip,” Five said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I insisted we didn’t need a guide, and we ended up lost for hours.”

Y/n laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, but we found that amazing little café because of it. The one with the best croissants we’ve ever had.”

Five nodded, his smile widening. “You’re right. That was worth getting lost for.”

As they continued to flip through the pages, each photograph told a story. There was a picture of them at a Halloween party, dressed in glamorous outfits. Another showed them at a garden party, looking completely out of place yet having the time of their lives.

Five paused at a picture of them in Rome, sitting on the steps of a temple at sunrise. “That sunrise was incredible,” he murmured, tracing the edges of the photograph with his finger.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with nostalgia. “I remember. We stayed up all night just to see it. It felt like the whole world was still asleep, and it was just us.”

The photos transitioned to more recent memories: their wedding, their first house, and the birth of their children. Five lingered on a picture of them holding their newborn daughter, Maddie, both looking exhausted yet indescribably happy.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” Five said softly, his voice tinged with emotion.

Y/n nodded, her eyes misting over. “We have. And look at us now. We’ve built a beautiful life together, despite everything.”

They turned to a picture of their son, Milo, his mischievous grin eerily reminiscent of Five’s. Five chuckled, shaking his head. “He’s going to be a handful, isn’t he?”

Y/n laughed, squeezing Five’s hand. “Just like his dad.”

The last page of the album held a recent photo: the entire Hargreeves family, including five’s siblings, gathered around a Christmas tree, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

“We’ve had our ups and downs,” Five said, his voice filled with gratitude. “But I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.”

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. “Neither would I. We’ve made some incredible memories, and I can’t wait to make even more with you.”

Five wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “Here’s to many more adventures, Y/n.”

They sat there in comfortable silence, the album open in front of them, reminiscing about the past and dreaming of the future. Five pressed a gentle kiss to Y/n’s temple, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

As they closed the album, Five looked at Y/n with a tender smile. “Thank you for finding this, Y/n. It’s a reminder of how strong we are together.”

Y/n leaned into him, her heart full. “Always, Five. No matter what the future holds, we’ll face it together.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the memories of their past, Five and Y/n felt more connected than ever, ready to take on whatever adventures life had in store for them next.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 6

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one. two. three. four. five.

Six. 六

Your dark mood lasts for days. You do not shirk your duties, but you definitely brood, hating everything, most of all yourself. A part of you hopes that Donaka decides you’re not worth the trouble after a glimpse of this other side of you. He does not prod you further, seemingly steering clear of you. He had his fun taking you down a peg–what more could he want with you? Surely he has better things to do… The more time goes on, the more certain you are that his proposition was mostly in your head.

Amusingly, it’s little Mrs. Wong who gets you out of your funk, yelling at you in Cantonese and smacking you with a wooden spoon when (maybe?) you didn’t move out of her way fast enough in the kitchen. You are determined that someday she’s going to let you call her Auntie, but apparently you still have some distance to cover. Her temper is like a firecracker, loud but shortlived. She’s adorable and terrifying, and it’s all so ridiculous that you cannot stop laughing as you flee, and the shroud of your depression lifts again like the sun penetrating through the clouds.

The absurdity of life has always saved you in times like this. What do you have to be sad about, anyway? You are healthy, you are housed, and you are fed in this beautiful place. You are having an adventure. So what, if your diabolically handsome employer does not approve of you? You’re just here to clean his floors, for fuck’s sake. 

Maybe Donaka Mark is rich, but that doesn’t mean he has all the answers to the mysteries of life. You find your mental state improves, when it seems like he’s ignoring you. 

Flirting with the cute gardener’s assistant doesn’t hurt your state of mind either. His name is Jun, he has an infectious laugh, and he offers to show you around the city on your next day off. Thinking some down time with someone your age will do you good, you are set to meet him at the bus stop down the hill from Mr. Mark’s house. 

However, he never shows. You try not to take it too hard, but it still bums you out. 

He does not return with the gardener the next week either, and then you start to worry. The kind old man who tends Donaka Mark’s plants just shrugged at your inquiry and said, “He quit.” 

It seems odd, but you brush it off. You suppose you’ll just have to explore the city on your own. You ask for the day off for your birthday, wanting to go do the touristy things, like ride the historic ferry and take the tram up to Victoria Peak. Maybe visit a temple, do some shopping at the Night Market, and definitely indulge in some local eats. Something about living in Hong Kong has you dreaming about noodles. It’s an affliction. You want to try them all. 

On your day there is a little carved wooden box on the table where you usually partake your breakfast in the common area of the servants’ quarters. You’re not sure why your heart falls to your feet with something like dread, but somehow you just know that Mr. Mark has not forgotten about you after all. 

With a forbidden thrill you flip the lid carefully, finding a domed-link silver filigree and enamel bracelet set with dreamy jade cabochons. The little details are exquisite, and you’re instantly enchanted. When you look carefully at the bauble, you realize the stylized blue designs aren’t flowers–they’re bats.

He remembered that conversation you’d had, that very first day. It warms you to your toes, and maybe scares you too. He's good to the staff, but you don't think he usually buys them jewelry.

Goddammit.

You just know, deep down, that you shouldn’t accept it. You even set it back down in the box again, just looking at it with hands on your hips. 

But therein lies the crux of temptation: you want it. It’s pretty and well made, not cheap tourist junk, and…he’d put thought into this gift for you. 

This bait for you, you remind yourself. It’s still hard for you to believe that he’s propositioning you, if for anything, because a man like him could have a supermodel on each arm if he wanted. What the fuck would he want with a girl like you?

Maybe…it’s just an apology?

Not likely, but surely he’s not going to expect you to sleep with him for a silver bracelet??

You have a problem, and possibly, a screw loose. You know this is a flame you should not play with. You are toeing the line, dangerously close to falling in.

What if…you just wear it today, then give it back? It’s not like he’ll know. You doubt you’ll even see him today.

It feels like a guilty secret, as you pick it up again, clasp it on your wrist, and set out for your big day. You like the weight of the heavy silver on your skin–worse yet, you like knowing that Mr. Mark selected this bauble just for you. It feels…like a badge of honor, and you know it’s stupid, to feel proud of yourself for catching the attention of a man like him–but you can’t help it.

You are smart, but sometimes? Your heart is really really stupid.

You do not return to the house until well past after dusk, nearly midnight. You made a day of it, actually able to enjoy the city since Mr. Mark pays so well. You will remember the hand pulled noodles with beef you had for dinner in the Night Market for the rest of your life, they were so delicious. Watching the chef stretch them out from a lump of dough was like a religious experience. 

Having your fortune told in the Night Market was memorable too, but maybe a little unsettling. Squatted on a stool in the older woman’s stall, you paid 100HK dollars for her to look at your right hand and frown. She told you that money would never be a problem for you, but the men in your life would always cause you difficulty. Looking at your relationship with your father and every man after that, you reckon she was probably right. You know you should take it with a grain of salt, but you can’t quite shake the hum of unease in the back of your mind.

On tired feet you walk through the garden, around to the entrance to the servant’s quarters. 

"Did you have a nice day?" asks a voice from the shadows. You start, then realize Mr. Mark is sitting on the carved stone bench, on the path to the servants' wing of the house, tucked back in the manicured trees. 

Fuck.

Immediately you tuck your wrist behind your back.

“Mr. Mark?”

“Come here.”

His voice is deliberately neutral–you can’t quite gauge his mood as you approach, feeling like a teenager caught staying out past her curfew. You have no way of knowing he has been waiting for hours, growing more and more annoyed that you are away from him, not under his watchful gaze, where you belong.

He knows where you were, if not exactly what you did. Unbeknownst to you, there is a tiny tracker inserted in your new bracelet you wear with such foolish avarice. 

“Well?”

“Yes, I had a wonderful day,” you confirm, coming to stand before him, committed now even if you are walking into the lion’s den. You find it odd he’s waiting up for you, but it is a beautiful night to be out in the garden. A cool breeze is coming off the water, lifting your hair.

“Let’s see it then.” He points at your hand so casually held behind you, and you know you are caught out.

Almost guiltily, you extend your arm to show off your new acquisition in situ. 

He props your hand with just the tips of his fingers, his touch maddeningly light on your sensitive palm as he turns your wrist to inspect the bracelet, sending a thrill down your arm. He likes seeing the gift that he selected upon you.

“It suits you,” he finally assesses, though you still can’t tell if he’s displeased. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” you answer, barely above a whisper, feeling as though you are sealing something between you as you admit it. 

“Well, that’s convincing.”

Your heart feels like a sea urchin lodging in your throat. You’re not sure what it is about this man that makes you want to please him–and tell him to fuck off–all in the same breath. 

Then he gets to the fun part–for him. “You shouldn’t have stayed out so late alone,” he scolds you. 

You cant your head and press your lips, holding in the smart remark that burns on your tongue as his coal-black eyes bore into you, settling for, "I didn't mean to worry you…but it is my day off. I think I'm free to do what I want." You just can't stop yourself from adding the last bit, and you wonder from his darkening expression if it will be your undoing.

He imagines in that moment what it would be like to reach out and put you over his knee. Instead, he stands abruptly, startling you into taking a step backwards. 

He likes that. 

It irks him, that you dare defy him, like he doesn’t know what’s best for you. If you insist on acting so tough, he’s tempted to throw you over his shoulder and show you just how little it would take to actually break you. 

"Were you drinking?" he asks darkly, hating the thought of you out in a bar, with other men, enjoying yourself. Laughing, like you were with the young gardener not so long ago. The moment he saw that on his camera feed that he constantly watches of you, Donaka saw red. You should not give your joy to others so freely. You sprinkle it around everywhere you go, and he covets it all for himself.

That boy had to go.

"No," you defend, and you’re telling the truth. "I just...walked around." There was plenty to see in Kowloon district. 

Donaka takes another step closer, his body almost pressing against yours, the heat of it warming you. He watches your reaction as he speaks, his voice low and firm. “You should have let me arrange a driver for you.”

This again. It feels as though he wants to cloister you away from experiencing the world, by shoving you in a car. "Donaka..." you sigh, slipping into using his first name for the first time ever, because you’re tired, and your feet hurt, and he is standing very close, talking to you like he has a say in what you do…

It’s maddening and arousing all at once, rubbing with a velvet touch against some long long cavewoman instinct in your brain, and if you’re not careful this just might be the night he outmaneuvers you. 

Donaka’s eyes narrow at hearing you dare to be so familiar with him, even if deep down he secretly loves it. He takes another step into you, crowding you against the stone wall, caging you in with an arm. He’s blocking your path to a quick exit into the servants’ quarters, you can’t help but notice. Your heart pounds in your ears–but you’re not half as afraid as you should be of this man. 

“Hong Kong is pretty safe, as it goes…” you continue to protest around the sound of your heart drumming in your ears, earning a scoff. 

“You have no idea, the sorts of things that could happen to a girl like you in this city.”

You can’t help but think you’re not sure if you feel safe here at home now. 

“If something happened…I would have called you,” you offer up, appealing to his ego as protector, the role he’s apparently decided to take on for himself without asking you. 

However, he sees right through you, rolling those beautiful dark eyes. “You should have let me take you out,” he suggests in a low tone that curls your toes in your sandals. He says it like it had been some option on your menu that you’d rejected. Never in a million years would it have even occurred to you to ask. 

You find yourself doing your best impression of a fish out of water, like the ones you’d seen stacked like cord wood in the market. His other hand lifts to touch your chin lightly, closing your mouth. “Would you have liked that?” 

You honestly don't know the answer to that. 

This man fascinates you and repulses you. He's handsome and commanding and oh so forbidding. He scares you, but he draws you like a moth to a flame. Having these little flirtatious interactions around the house are one thing. Going out with him would be...something else entirely. The thought of what it could mean to socialize with a man like him, where you are so far from being equals, makes you uneasy. It's much safer to just...write about what might have been in your journal, later. 

"I'm not sure that would be appropriate," you finally answer breathily.

His smile for you is nothing less than the wolf baring its teeth. “Why not?”

"You're my boss..." you try to defend. You scare the shit out of me is the real answer you don't dare say aloud.

Donaka can’t help the dark laugh that falls from his lips at your answer, the way you flounder as you grasp for a defense, utterly drowning. A part of him wants to claim you right here and now, for being such a sweet, soft, naive little thing in his claws. 

He leans down closer to you, his head dipping down to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Is that the best excuse you’ve got?”

For a moment, you think your soul might evacuate from your body. 

"Pretty sure it's a good one," you barely manage to reply above a whisper.

“You still don’t understand what I’m offering you, do you?” he asks, his voice deceptively gentle, a dagger clothed in velvet.

You love it how he makes you out to be the obtuse one, when he is the one who has spoken so cryptically.

“I…might,” you answer. You’re not a complete innocent, or a total philistine.

What would a VIP experience on the arm of Donaka Mark be like? Although he can be charming when he wants to be, it makes you feel more anxious than intrigued. You imagine a dinner at some high-end restaurant you could never afford. Somewhere people go to be seen, more than to eat, though the food would undoubtedly be amazing. Somewhere you would feel incredibly out of place. Then what? A ride in one of his ugly but wicked fast sports cars? A night of hedonism at some exclusive club for millionaires only? And what would he expect as payment for all this? You can’t even say you wouldn’t be willing to give it. You want this man with a voracity that is–frankly–terrifying to you. 

You’ve never felt anything like it. 

What you wouldn’t like is the inevitable aftermath of later: he's offering you the opportunity to give yourself up–then get thrown away, with the enjoyment of some perks in between. You could repeat your mother’s history all over again, a thing you always swore up, down, and sideways you would never do.

Donaka watches all these thoughts play across your face, without a word aloud to accompany them. You just stare, unable to speak, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Say one sentence of the novel you just wrote in your head out loud,” he challenges.

You open your mouth to try, but nothing comes out. All you can do is look up at him with what you are sure is a pathetic expression on your face, paralyzed. He is so close, and your eyes fixate for a long, damning moment on his mouth. In the end you have to close your eyes against that laser-like stare, shaking your head.

“You know something I find interesting about you,” he goes on. You open your eyes, though your tongue is still tied. “I think if I made you choose between an Hermès purse or that cheap bauble on your wrist this morning, you still would have chosen the bracelet, wouldn't you?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, maybe not to your advantage. Then you feel a little relieved, glad it didn’t cost a fortune.

“Comparatively cheap,” he clarifies, as though he doesn't want you to feel too at ease. How did he know? 

You narrow your eyes, lifting your wrist towards him. “Maybe…you should take it back.”

You think you might die of a heart attack, when he folds your smaller hand in his, and kisses your knuckles lightly. “It’s too late for that.”

You’re not sure what that means, but as he strokes your thumb lightly with his, you start to tremble.

“Sir…” 

He pins you with his stare, looming over you, but makes no move, waiting. 

“It’s getting late…and I have to work tomorrow.”

He lifts an eyebrow, smirking down at you. “And whose fault is that?”

“Mine…though it’s starting to be yours.”

He snorts. “Then ask me for the day off again,” he dares you. When you answer him with yet more paralyzed silence he gets frustrated, tilting your face up with his huge hand engulfing your jaw. For a man who works in tech…his fingers are calloused, and strong, and your legs just might go out from underneath you.  “Ask me. Say it out loud, y/n. Tell me what’s going on, behind those big eyes.”

You, however, just shake your head against his masterful grip. “You don’t want to know.” 

“I like secrets, y/n. I want to know everything.” You suppose that is his bread and butter, with his security business and all his cameras…you don’t know why it never occurred to you before now, that it could be a personal obsession, as much as professional. 

You’re tempted. God, are you tempted, with this beast of a man looming over you, touching you, looking through you with those piercing dark eyes. Like he wants to eat you as much as he wants to fuck you… 

Somehow you know if you dare go down that path…there will be no turning back. 

You choose the coward’s road.

“Please…I think…it would be best…to call it a night.”

He weighs you with a heavy gaze for so long that you start to doubt he will let you go–in the darkest dungeon of your heart, you know that a part of you doesn’t want him to. It would be convenient, if he would make the choice for you. Let you taste the forbidden fruit with none of the blame…

You are losing your goddamned mind over this man. You need to stop.  

You never really know why in the end he releases you, pushing back from the wall to give you space. You side-step towards the door of the servant’s quarters, afraid for the predatory look he’s paying you, that he might change his mind.

 "Good night, Mr. Mark," you say quietly, before disappearing into the little building where you sleep. A rush of frustration flares inside him as you scamper away–again. He narrowly resists the urge to kick down your door and show you who you belong to.

“Good night,” he answers back through gritted teeth, only the crickets left to hear him. He’ll have your secrets, one way or another. He can genuinely say he tried–a first, in so long he can’t remember when. For what happens next…you will only have yourself to blame.

[starlight-archer]

Fic Request for @fidgetmetimbers! "Something sweet with Edwin and Thomas"

This got very fluffy and schmoopy! I hope you like it!

Edwin felt something shift next to him where he lay and smiled to himself. He wasn't surprised when he had discovered that the Cat King was a cuddler.

The night before had been... Wonderful, to put it simply.

He had been going on dates with Thomas for a handful of months at this point and every part of it had felt like an adventure in self-discovery. He hadn't realised just how much he would be capable of once he started to become comfortable in a romantic relationship. It was still so new and fresh, but Thomas made it so easy to sink into the new dynamic between them.

He had been so patient and accommodating, and had openly expressed his own wants and expectations, and it had greatly helped in acclimating him to being in a relationship. What could have very well been intimidating for him was made easy and relatively seamless.

The open discussion, and easy answering of any questions he had, helped shake any remaining nerves around seeming inexperienced. It didn't matter. They were discovering everything together and Thomas having more intimate experience was never something that made him feel in any way inferior as a partner.

The night prior, they had hardly been able to keep their hands off of each other as they went about their date. He supposed that it must have been a bit much for anyone able to see them, but he couldn't find it within himself to care.

They had walked, talked, laughed together. Thomas had gotten a cup of whipped cream from a coffee shop and when he had gotten some at the corner of his mouth, Edwin had felt confident enough in the moment to lean down and kiss it off. The subtle taste of sand be damned. It was worth it just for the expression it had left on his lover's face.

At the end of their date, neither of them had wanted to part ways and so they hadn't. Thomas had used his magic to counjur some soft pyjamas and they had snuggled up together under the thick duvet.

Edwin shuffled closer, himself and lifted the blanket a bit to get a look at Thomas' face as he slept. He really was beautiful. Moreso when he was off guard, and truly relaxed. He always felt himself drawn to this soft, pink lips, the delicate curve of his cupids bow, the small scar on the left (Thomas' left). They begged to be kissed. Or, perhaps it was Edwin that begged to be kissed by them.

Now, knowing that it was allowed, he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to those lips, to the scar, then to Thomas' cheeks and nose and forehead and when he pulled back, those golden eyes were looking back at him in affectionate wonderment.

"Having fun?" Thomas' voice was raspy with sleep.

Edwin smiled, "Indubitably." punctuating it with another quick kiss to Thomas' forehead.

"Oh? Indubitably? My boyfriend is fancier than your boyfriend~" Thomas purred, snuggling against Edwin's arm (that was conveniently placed under his head like a pillow).

Edwin used his free hand to brush a few stray curls from Thomas' face. "Not possible, I'm afraid. You see, my boyfriend is a King."

Thomas let out a mock gasp and batted his eyes at Edwin. "Oh my, I do apologise for my audacious mistake. I hope that you can find it in your heart to overlook my blunder."

"I suppose I am feeling rather gracious, though it will require adequate penance." Edwin couldn't help the broad smile, despite trying to keep his tone as serious as he could in jest.

"Oh, thank you! I'll do anything! What price must I pay to make this up to you?"

"Hmm." Edwin pretended to contemplate it for a moment. "Your debt shall be paid in one hundred kisses."

"One hundred kisses? I better get started~" Thomas grinned as he leant up, one hand on Edwin's shoulder, and kissed him all over his face, counting as he went. "That was twenty-five, I'm a quarter of the way done~" He leaned back up and placed several quick pecks to Edwin's lips, before being caught.

Edwin leaned in to the last peck and drew it out, deepening it, reveling in it, basking on every second. It was inevitable that Thomas started purring, especially as Edwin's free hand found it's way back to his hair.

Edwin pulled back only when Thomas needed a moment to breathe, and carefully pressed their foreheads together, their noses just barely brushing.

"I love you." Edwin said, with all the surety in his heart.

"You love me?" Thomas echoed it in question, expression suddenly so vulnerable, not unlike when Edwin had called him out over their shared loneliness.

"I love you dearly." Edwin reinforced, placing another peck to Thomas' lips before pulling back a little further, to look at him properly. "I can no longer imagine a future without you in it."

"You can't?" Thomas' voice was small, though the purring was still a constant.

"What would a day be without seeing your face at least once? How much duller? How much more colourless would life be without your wonderfully flamoyant presence?" Edwin smiled. He knew he was being dramatic, and yet he also believed his own words with certainty. "Thomas, you add so much happiness and love to my life, I could never dream of being without you now."

"I love you too." Thomas swallowed thickly, finding it hard to contain his emotions, especially when Edwin looked at him like that; in that way that made it impossible to find any sort of fault in his words. "You have to know that."

"Of course I know. You show it to me all the time. It would be impossible to miss, even if I weren't such an excellent detective." Edwin smirked as Thomas playfully rolled his eyes.

"You're so modest, it's really admirable." Thomas struggled not to laugh.

"Yes, I really am the whole package, aren't I? You are a lucky cat indeed." Edwin teasesd. Heavens knew that he thought himself a lucky ghost.

Thomas' expression softened and he smiled gently up at Edwin. It was almost reverant. "I really am."

[liv2post]

Serenading Him

I've begun a new mini series on ao3, but I will also be dropping the chapters here. It will be about five chapters total. Here is chapter 1!

Read here or on AO3.

(This series can be read with any gender for reader and will have 5 or 6 chapters total)

CHAPTER 1: What Is That Melody

It is said that life can be breathed into a place by the people who occupy it. A dingy cottage on the outskirts of a town can be a lovely home to a family simply doing their best to be happy while raising a child. A town suffering economically can be polished with a veneer of gaiety when the community is brought together for the merry festivities that sweep through the streets come wintertime. Even a school can be considered a home to those looking for an escape, friendship, new adventures…

But not Hogwarts.

Not anymore.

No longer could anyone call Hogwarts their home. A prison perhaps, considering the students had no choice but to live there for the next nine months. With Voldemort in control of the ministry and Severus acting as headmaster of the school, Hogwarts had become a place of desolation and fear. The boat rides from the train station, which once roused anticipation and excitement from faces old and new, now caused anxiety and embitterment. The students couldn’t even be themselves— couldn’t be what they were: children. Instead, they were subjected to the strictest and borderline militaristic treatment. The Sorting Ceremony was no longer a joyful event. The only people who spoke a peep were Professor McGonagall and the Sorting Hat, leaving the room otherwise quiet, filled with a thick tension as the sorted students grimly shuffled to their respective houses.

The teachers tried their best to keep students engaged and cheerful during classes, but there was only so much they could do with the Carrows undoing all that work every day with their twisted teachings and abusive punishments. And all while this happened, Severus remained hidden in his ivory tower.

Severus hated it—hated himself for allowing over two decades' worth of bad decision-making to culminate into… this. The isolation was what kept his mind at bay. No one ever saw him in the halls or at meals. All his time was either spent in the Headmaster’s office, at Malfoy Manor attending meetings, or in some random countryside where only the ravens that nested in the pine trees could hear his anguished screams and spells he cast at boulders. He couldn’t bear to show his face to the colleagues he could once call friends. He was ashamed, each disdainful look he received from them on the first day was another arrow in his back. The pressure to wear a mask of indifference towards the suffering of students and a disposition of support for Voldemort tore him apart inside. How could they possibly understand his position? How could they possibly know that he was simply following the strategic instructions of the Headmaster he was forced to kill in cold blood? There was hardly any reprieve for him except for his walks through the Scotland hills, the bottom of a firewhiskey bottle…

And…

He could pinpoint the exact day it started. Precisely one month after the start of the school year, something strange began to happen in the castle. On Sunday night, a minute after curfew took effect, music would begin to play. The sound emanated throughout the castle, and its source was difficult to determine as a result of the castle’s stony walls encouraging an even echo. Severus recognized the instrument. It was what muggles called “electric guitars” and he only recognized it because the instrument's sound reminded him of the Weird’s Sisters performance at the Yule Ball.

As one might expect, the occurrence greatly vexed him the first night it happened. The instrument’s song echoed through the night air and a large set of windows he kept open at night and only closed right before retiring. Filch and the Carrows, not needing an order from the headmaster to know that they should find whoever was causing a disturbance after curfew, came up empty-handed. 

At first, everyone in the castle thought this was just a one-time thing, a show of rebellion against the people who had sucked all the fun out of Hogwarts, leaving it a shell of its former self. But then, it happened again. And again. And again.

Every Sunday at 9:01 PM a song would play from somewhere in the castle, its notes managing to reach even the dungeons. It was only one song, a different one each time. These short-lived performances made it more difficult for the Carrows and Filch to catch the offender. The other teachers didn’t mind. Neither did the students. In fact, they began to look forward to it. Each weekly performance gave them hope the following week would somehow get better, and that they shouldn’t give up despite the ruinous circumstances they found themselves in. That there was still a fight to be had.

By Halloween, Severus had given up trying to remain irritated by the music that pervaded the air. On a night filled with so much self-loathing and heartache toward the one he had lost, he couldn't muster the energy to even care, let alone walk to the windows and close them. He was halfway through a bottle sitting in a chair he was undeserving of, letting the music wash over him, placating him almost. Despite finding such an instrument to be distasteful and loud, the muggle music played was not. Few songs were familiar to him, including one song he heard at the beginning of December. He had closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, pretending to be somewhere else outside of this miserable sphere as the music echoed gently into his office from the night sky. The performance lasted just over three minutes and left his office in overwhelming silence once again. As he imagined it did with other students, it brought him a tiny bit of comfort and left him vaguely wondering what would be played the next Sunday night.

Watching from the Battlements, Severus sighed in relief when the last of the students exited the castle, guided by Hagrid and Filch towards the boathouse, and eventually the train station. It was the start of winter break and every student went home for the holidays. Who could blame them? The parents desperately wished for them to come home. Any letter he had received from parents about why their child was writing home about enduring the Cruciatius curse had been tossed in the fire. As if he could write them back or do anything about it, to begin with. It brought him some peace to know that the students would return home once again to be with their loved ones before the second half of the term. 

This, however, left the castle terribly empty. All the other teachers went home, even Filch, choosing to go to a squib village for the holidays since there would be no one to look after for the next few weeks, which left the headmaster all to his lonesome. It was his desire to leave as well, but it was required of him to stay over the holidays. And it wasn’t as though his destitute little home in Spinner’s End would be any better.

Reading, drinking, and thinking. That’s all he cared to do on his first day in the empty castle. In the morning he bypassed the rope that guarded the restrictive section and selected a book to read, usually some sort of history book, in the afternoons he walked around aimlessly like an Azkaban prisoner devoid of their soul, hoping something unsuspecting would come out of the Forbidden Forest and just end him already. At night he found solace in the amber liquid that sat in his hand as he stared into the fire, his mind a pendulum swinging back and forth from wondering how Potter and his friends were fairing while on the run to whether it was worth fighting the battle anymore.

Then he heard it.

Dum…Dum…Dum…Dum… 

His eyes flashed open from their once fluttery state as he snapped his head from the roaring fireplace to the barely opened windows. The music was back, but hadn’t all the students go home? The time on his wall clock displayed 9:01. That student was still here. 

He crossed to the other side of the room, pushed open the large windows, and listened to the introductory strumming of the guitar. As he listened he had a realization if he was able to hear the music this well from his office…

It had to be coming from one of the towers. 

He was going to find out who had been doing this.

With a swoosh of his robes, his body resembled that of a tattered cloak or a lethifold as he took off through his open windows and into the night sky. He had to be very careful to avoid the dementors posted around the school, whose job was to make sure students didn't try to escape via broom. He swept around to each tower only stopping for only a moment to see if a student was present. Time was of the essence as he expected the performance to last only a few minutes as they had before. The more he flew around the closer to the music he got, leaving him with one last destination. 

The Astronomy Tower. It was the highest point in Hogwarts and had an almost 360-degree pan opening to the night sky, which meant the sound could travel far and wide.

Severus landed quietly just beyond the other side of the railing and his suspicions were confirmed. The music, now deafening, sounded as though it was coming from right on top of him. When he looked around he saw no one, even when he looked up towards the hollowed ceiling. And right as the song was about to reach its crescendo—

“Homenum Revelio,” he chanted, swishing his wand about the air.

There was a disembodied wind-like noise, indicating that a human presence had been revealed. Sitting against the incline of a load-bearing beam up in the air was a 7th-year student, one leg bent while the other dangled off with a look of mild surprise on their face. He recognized you. You were one of his best students in the time he was your potion’s Professor and continued to hear many things about you from Slughorn. You were also set to graduate this year with many NEWT classes beneath your belt and a recommendation from Slughorn, but upon the start of Severus’s reign as headmaster, you had mysteriously dropped every subject except for Charms. No one had answers but granted, very few asked.

He remembered you as someone who was rather polite. Quiet, but amicable enough that people felt they could ask you questions. Otherwise, you kept to yourself.

You blinked down at him from your spot, strumming hand frozen before you slowly lowered it while your gaze remained locked on the Headmaster.

“So it has been you breaking the rules and serenading all of Hogwarts,” he drawled, stiffly.

You returned no verbal reply, only a silent, subtle nod of confirmation. His eyes flicked over the instrument that rested across your torso. It was glowing a light blue, presumably a spell that empowered it to work properly in the manner it would in the muggle world.

“Why?”

“...I wanted to piss the Carrows off,” you eventually said after opening and closing your mouth.

“You have surely succeeded in that endeavor,” he stated quietly. “Come down from there.”

Severus watched in silence as you slung the instrument around you with a strap and carefully scaled your way back down to the dusty floors of the Astronomy Tower. His eyes flit over your attire as you turned to face him. You were dressed in muggle clothes, wearing an especially thick sweatshirt to help combat the frigid winter air. 

“You chose not to go home as everyone else has?”

“My “home” has been reduced to a pile of rubble for a few months now,” you murmured.

His brows scrunched together momentarily before softening in understanding. He recalled you being a half-blood, but not every half-blood was safe, especially if the parents were outspoken about pro-muggle views. “What of your parents?”

“In America. Hopefully. I don't know if they made it. I’m supposed to meet them there upon graduation, assuming I manage to have my escape arranged properly.”

A buzzing crackle of energy lit between the two of you. 

“Very few would take the risk of admitting such plans to flee eventual capture in the face of a Death Eater. Especially one so close to the Dark Lord.” Severus narrowed his eyes at you, his tone remaining calculated as he chose his words carefully to feel out the situation. He needed absolute confirmation, not some fickle half-belief statements in which straws would be grasped.

Both your eyes searched one another for any whisper of doubt and uncertainty, you making sure his hand stayed away from his wand specifically. But with just a few words, you swept any possible reluctance off the table.

“...I know what you are, Professor.”

His eyes flashed and his Occlumency walls went up in pure reflexive instinct.  

“If you truly did not care for the students, you wouldn’t have sent all those kids off to have detention with Hagrid instead of letting their fate fall to Amycus and Alecto. They would’ve had them begging for death.” Your eyes drifted over to the spot Dumbledore would have stood before he plummeted from the rails of the Astronomy Tower. Severus followed your gaze and internally winced at where you were looking. 

“This is the last place I would expect to see you.”

Severus calmly turned and ambled back towards the railing, cold hands clasped beneath his cloak. “I don’t wish to be at Hogwarts as a whole any more than you do,” he murmured, the underlying truth tacitly laid bare before you, confirming the prospect you were desperately hoping to be correct. And he was being surprisingly… soft with you, a fact that only helped your case and your suspicions of his true ideals.

He saw no point in lying to you. He was tired. So tired. Playing this role was killing him. He was confident enough in his own Occlumency to hide this conversation from the Dark Lord, but someone needed to know of his true intentions. He needed that mental support to keep him going and he wasn’t going to get it from the portrait of the man who ensnared him into this whole ordeal.

“And yet here you are,” you replied with a similar gentleness.

“The path ahead of me is a Hobson’s choice. Surely, you are insightful enough to understand that.”

You nodded, the wood beneath you creaking as you approached the railing, but kept a certain distance between the two of you. “I do. I just didn’t expect you to linger for the break.”

“It is difficult to traverse discreetly when your name and face have been plastered in major news outlets. I’m ordered to remain here and should I be spotted outside of Hogwarts or Hogsmeade, the news will surely get back to the Dark Lord. And one cannot just polyjuice anyone without knowing their blood type as insurance.” He side-eyed you. “Given the circumstances, I’m surprised you haven’t taken the break as an opportunity to run.”

“There are too many uncertainties at play,” you responded. “It's a waiting game for me. Should it all go wrong, I need to have learned to conceal myself properly by then.”

“Is that why you are only taking Charms?”

“...Yes. DADA has been tainted, the seventh-year potions are of no use to me, and it…” you shook your head looking towards the Great Lake that sparkled in the moonlight. “It won’t matter. I’m just…done. I’m going back to the muggle world. Away from all this. It’s my best shot at safety.”

He glanced at you solemnly. “You are not confident in Potter?” You are not confident in me? 

You sighed. “I'll…do what I need to do here to keep morale up, but…no. Potter has proven to be unpredictable and it is not wrong of me to think of self-preservation in these times.”

He exhaled faintly. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

Neither of you said anything else except for Snape telling you to return to your common room lest you catch your death up here. However, the both of you would retire for the night with a crumb of comradery nestled somewhere in your hearts.

Next Chapter

[nox140497]

The Depths of Love

Prompt: No

Request: No

Prompt Number: None

Summery: Afer filming a scary video where he could have gotten hurt. Sam realizes just what his girlfriend Y/N would do for him and how far she is willing to go for him.

Pairings: Sam Golbach x Female Reader

Masterlist

Prompt List

_______________________________

As I looked back at the footage we had captured, my heart pounded with fear and adrenaline. Colby and I had just risked our lives exploring an abandoned building, and the video we had filmed was sure to give our viewers a good scare. But as I watched the tense and dangerous moments on screen, a feeling of guilt washed over me.

I turned to Colby, who was grinning and high-fiving me for the amazing shots we had captured. But I couldn't shake the feeling that we had been reckless and foolish.

It wasn't until I returned home and saw my girlfriend Y/N waiting for me with a look of worry and relief on her face that I fully understood the gravity of our actions. She hugged me tightly and scolded me for putting myself in danger, but I could tell she was also relieved that we had made it back unharmed.

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't stop thinking about Y/N. I realized that while I had been off having fun and chasing thrills with Colby, she had been worrying about my safety and waiting for me to return home.

The next day, I sat Y/N down and watched the exploration video with her. Her reaction was exactly what I had feared – she was terrified and angry that I had put myself in harm's way.

'I just don't understand why you would risk your life like that,' she said, tears welling up in her eyes. 'I love you, and I couldn't bear to lose you.'

I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. Y/N loved me so much, and yet, I had been so reckless with my life. I realized then that I needed to change and start considering the consequences of my actions.

From that day on, I made sure to always put safety first in all of our videos. Whenever I embarked on a dangerous adventure, I made sure to let Y/N know how much she meant to me and that I would do everything in my power to come back to her unharmed.

Y/N's love and devotion taught me a valuable lesson – that the love of a partner is worth more than any thrill or adrenaline rush. I was lucky to have someone who cared for me so deeply, and I promised myself never to take her for granted again.

I am grateful for that scary exploration video, not only because it gave our viewers a good scare, but also because it made me realize just how much Y/N would do for me and how far she was willing to go to protect me.

[incorrectbatfam]

What would Queering the Map look like in the DC Universe

For those of you that don't know, Queering the Map is basically this website where people can add pinpoints on a map with their different queer experiences. It's really cool, I suggest checking it out (unless you hate The Gays, in which case feel free to unfollow me).

Now, for the headcanons:

"Went to a baseball game for our third date. We ended up on the jumbotron. Some people booed us. I think it's 'cause I wore a Gotham jersey and she had a Metropolis hat. A modern-day Romeo and Juliet."

"Drag storytime here, every Thursday from 5:30 to 7"

"sometimes love is kidnapping a nepo baby with your two polyamorous boyfriends"

"Did it with another Arkham inmate, 5/10"

"According to my grandfather, who trained me to wield a sword from the moment I could walk, I'm 'too young' to know who I am."

"Themiscyra more like Lesbos 2 amirite"

"I have a crush on a boy in my class but every time I ask him to hang out he tells me he's busy. I know he doesn't do any after-school clubs and he doesn't need a part-time job because he's rich as hell. I have my conspiracy theories. Let's see how they pan out."

"@ Ollie Queen I screwed your son in your office"

"On this street corner, I got so nervous talking to the cute food truck worker that I puked in a trash can. I am 42 years old."

"Don't forget about us in Kahndaq!"

"Smallville boys sure love them cornfields"

"I put the bi in billionaire"

"me-wow ;)"

"It's Sunday morning. My wife and I slept in after a wild time last night. I woke up first so I surprised her with her favorite breakfast and used the food scraps to make compost cupcakes for her plants. Then she kissed me and showed me a funny video because she knows I love wild dogs, and it makes everything I've put up with worth it. Some folks will see this and still call us the villains. If that's the case, I don't wanna be a hero."

"I know where I'd put my Lantern ring ( ͡ ° ل͜ ͡°)"

"No GCPD at Pride"

"I no longer live in England but I had my fair share of adventures back in the day. We have always been here and we always will be."

"first kiss here, tasted like waffles"

"Hey Lex I can be your sugar baby i mean henchman"

"I can run from Keystone to Bludhaven in five seconds flat but it doesn't matter because he'll never see me the way I see him"

"I transed the fish. Signed, an Atlantean"

"Wanna match butts?"

[strawberryparfaiit]

i wonder if the brazilians ever feel lonely in their own bases

pac and mike have chume labs, a big lab with all the stuff they need to do their experiments and test their creativity. it's in the prettiest biome they could find, it's made with blocks that have their signature colors. but do you think, late at night, they miss hearing cellbit's footsteps to get another cup of coffee or felps speaking alone in his house?

forever is building his megabase, that is very pretty and he is putting so much effort on it. but, do you think that, when people come to visit, he regrets not building it near someone's house? do you think, everytime baghera leaves after coming to tell him something, or everytime bad pranks his base putting one of skeppy's statues, he feels like there is something missing? do you think he misses being able to live so near to someone that he didn't had to deal with the loneliness that came from not having the others brazilians living near?

cellbit lives in his big castle with his husband, so he is not alone. but do you think he misses when forever used to go to ordo theoritas and offer him a cup of coffee because he is pulling an all nighter? do you think he misses going to see how quackity's base is going and putting a mine just to prank him? do you think he misses waking up and seeing tazercraft and richas going for an adventure, leaving the favela while they talk abou where they are going?

maybe, late at night, while felps is mining all those stones, trying to build a hole, he misses the lights iluminating the streets of the favela? maybe, he misses seeing his friends everyday too. does he wonders if, it is really worth mining all of that?

even if they still can visit each other when they want, it's still lonely. they built that favela. they started at that hill, all five together. now, they all are established: two of them are cientists, building minigames and exploring to the limits of their creativity; the other is the president, with a lot of new responsabilities; the other is married, but never let go of his purprose as an investigator; and, the last, is trying to build his place, trying to build a home after getting kidnapped for such a long time.

[cheynovak]

Sheriff’s Bargain

Characters: Beau Arlen x F/Reader Y/N     

Summary:  Y/N, a seasoned con artist, is arrested after returning to Montana, where her past comes back to haunt her in the form of Sheriff Beau Arlen—the man she abandoned five years ago. Facing charges linked to a drug lord, she’s offered a deal to work as an informant. Torn between her criminal life and lingering feelings for Beau, Y/N must decide whether to help him bring down the crime ring or continue running from her past.

Warnings: Mentioning of breaking the law

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

I’ve always lived by one rule: never get attached. It’s a good rule when your life revolves around lies, schemes, and the occasional robbery. My world was all about the next con, the next score. Keep it simple. Keep it clean. And most importantly, never catch feelings.

But then I swiped right on Beau Arlen.

It all started with a silly swipe on an online dating app. I’d been scrolling aimlessly, a glass of wine in hand, bored out of my mind, when his profile caught my eye. Tall, rugged, with an easy smile and sun-kissed hair, he was the definition of all-American charm.

Sheriff.

That little detail was tucked away in his bio, barely noticeable. I knew then it wasn’t just boredom pulling me into a potential meet-up; this was a chance. Law enforcement wasn’t usually my playground, but something about him made me curious. A sheriff? That kind of information could be worth a lot in the right hands.

I was hooked. So, I did what I do best. I played the part—Y/N, the carefree, slightly adventurous girl just looking for a connection. We started chatting, and he was exactly what I expected—kind, witty, a little rough around the edges but warm. He was also recently divorced. No kids. And I learned, without even asking, that I was the first woman he’d dated since. That little fact should’ve sent warning bells off in my head, but instead, it intrigued me. Made me want to know more about him, which was the first sign I was slipping.

I could already picture our first date, where I’d play innocent and sweet while subtly probing for information. The game was on.

Two days later, I found myself in the dimly lit corner of a small bar in Austin, Texas, waiting for Beau to arrive. The place was a quiet little spot on the outskirts of town, not flashy but comfortable. The kind of place where people didn’t ask too many questions, which worked perfectly for me.

I caught my reflection in the glass behind the bar—subtle makeup, a touch of vulnerability in my expression, nothing to hint at what I was really up to. It was all part of the game. I had done this a hundred times before. The thrill of deception, of being in control, made my blood hum with excitement.

Then the door swung open, and there he was. Even in the dim light, Beau Arlen commanded the room. He spotted me, his eyes lighting up with that easy-going smile. It hit me—he wasn’t just handsome. He had a presence. Something solid. Steady.

I hadn’t expected that.

“Y/N, right?” His voice was deep, with a Southern drawl that made my skin tingle. I smiled, standing up to meet him.

“That’s me. Beau, right?” I played it cool, though my heart was beating a little faster than usual. I chalked it up to the challenge ahead.

As the night went on, we talked and laughed, and I skillfully steered the conversation, dropping little hints, hoping he’d spill some intel about the sheriff’s department or something juicy I could sell to one of my mob contacts. But he didn’t take the bait.

Instead, he told me about growing up in Texas, his time in law enforcement, and how hard the divorce had been on him. How he hadn’t dated anyone seriously since the split. I was the first. The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, yet vulnerable, made something inside me twist. This wasn’t just another target. This was a good man, a man who had been hurt. A man who trusted me.

That’s when I felt the first crack in my carefully built walls.

One date turned into two. Then three. Each time, I told myself it was just part of the plan. I’d get the information I needed, make my move, and disappear before he ever realized who I really was. That’s how it always went. But every time I met up with Beau, something shifted.

I found myself laughing more. Enjoying his company. He was good. Not in the usual way I was used to, not someone trying to get something from me. He was just good. And damn it, that scared me.

The night we were supposed to go to a local diner, I had a plan. I'd go home with him and I’d dug around, found out where Beau kept his work laptop. All I had to do was slip away while he was distracted, clone his drive, and sell the sheriff’s department intel to the highest bidder.

Easy.

Except it wasn’t.

We sat in his truck after dinner, parked by a lake just outside the city, and he looked at me—really looked at me. Not like I was Y/N, the girl I pretended to be, but like he saw something deeper. Something real. His thumb brushed against my hand, and for a second, I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.

“You know, I didn’t expect this,” he said softly, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

“Expect what?” I asked, my heart doing weird somersaults in my chest.

“To actually like you,” he said, turning to face me fully. “I mean, I thought you were pretty, sure, but this… it feels like more.”

My breath hitched. This wasn’t part of the plan. I wasn’t supposed to feel… anything. But I did.

I’d conned a hundred men before Beau. And not once had I ever felt guilty. Not once had I ever hesitated. But now, looking into his eyes, I knew I was in trouble.

“I don’t think you’re telling me everything,” he added, his voice soft but firm, like he knew something was off but wasn’t sure what.

My pulse raced. Did he know? Had he figured me out?

I could end it here. Lie. Run. Disappear like I always did. But then, he leaned closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, and I couldn’t do it. Not this time.

“Beau, I—” I stopped myself, words failing me for the first time in forever.

I pulled away just before his lips could touch mine.

“I—I’m sorry, Beau. I can’t.”

I scrambled out of the truck, my heart pounding, and started walking. I didn’t know where I was going, just that I had to get away. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let him in.

“Y/N!” Beau called after me, his voice tinged with confusion and worry. “Wait! What’s wrong?”

I kept walking, my breath coming in shallow bursts. I heard his footsteps behind me, getting closer until his hand caught my wrist, gently pulling me to a stop.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to spill everything, but I couldn’t. Instead, I surged forward and kissed him. Soft, quick, just a taste of what could’ve been. When I pulled back, Beau looked at me, eyes wide with confusion.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my throat tightening. “This isn’t working out.”

The hurt flashed in his eyes, but I didn’t wait for him to respond. I turned and walked away, each step feeling like I was ripping my own heart out.

By the time I got back to my apartment, I had made my decision. I couldn’t stay in Texas. Not with Beau here. If I did, I’d only end up hurting him worse. I packed my bags quickly, grabbing whatever I could fit, and disappeared into the night like I always did. No note, no goodbye. Just gone.

Five years.

It had been five years since I left Texas. Since I left Beau. I told myself it was for the best, that he deserved someone better. Someone real. I moved from city to city, pulling cons, making deals, and trying to forget the way he made me feel.

But I never did.

And now, here I was, back in Montana. The last place I ever thought I’d return to. The past, the one I’d tried to bury beneath years of schemes and lies, still haunted me in the form of a tall, rugged sheriff named Beau Arlen.

I thought of him more times than I cared to admit. His smile, his voice, the way he looked at me like I was someone worth knowing. Someone real. I was too much of a coward to look him up, to even think about reaching out. Instead, I did what I did best—hid behind the shadows. I checked his Facebook like some creep, scrolling through his life from the safety of a screen, always too afraid to hit that “Add Friend” button. He looked happy. He seemed like he’d moved on.

I told myself I had too. I built a flawless career as a private contractor, stealing, selling intel, playing my cards right with every dangerous figure I crossed. Everything was perfect.

--

Five years of dodging bullets and walking out of every con cleanly came to a crashing halt. I got caught. They found a trail leading back to me. Somehow, they connected me to an old case in this godforsaken town. I didn’t even remember the details anymore. I’d worked for a drug baron here once, years ago. A minor job. But I should have known better than to think I could outrun every ghost from my past.

The small, gray interrogation room smelled like stale coffee and disinfectant. I sat at the table, my hands cuffed in front of me, but I wasn’t worried. I’d been in tighter spots before, and I was always good at talking my way out. If I played this right, I could convince them I was just another innocent woman in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But what I wasn’t prepared for had just walked into the room.

The door swung open, and there he was. Beau.

Sheriff Beau Arlen.

The world seemed to stop as he stepped into the room, his broad frame filling the doorway. He was even more rugged than I remembered—his shoulders a little broader, his face a little more weathered, like the years had hardened him in ways I hadn’t expected. But his eyes—those sharp, piercing eyes—still had that same warmth I used to get lost in. Except now, there was something else there. Something colder. Something guarded.

I swallowed hard, my heart slamming against my ribcage as his gaze locked on me. For a second, I thought I saw recognition flash across his face, but he didn’t give anything away. He just stood there, towering over me, a shadow from my past I couldn’t ignore any longer.

"Well," he said slowly, his voice low and steady, "this is a surprise."

I forced a smile, my brain scrambling for something to say, something that would make this less awkward, less… devastating.

“Beau,” I breathed, the sound of his name on my lips feeling both familiar and foreign. “Sheriff in Montana now, huh?”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah. A lot’s changed since you ran out on me.”

I flinched at the reminder, feeling the weight of my past mistakes crashing down on me. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I wasn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t prepared for him.

Beau pushed off the wall and walked slowly toward the table, his eyes never leaving mine. “You were always good at disappearing, Y/N. But I gotta say, I didn’t expect you to turn up in my town again. And especially not like this.”

I couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped me. “Trust me, neither did I.”

He sat down across from me, his expression unreadable. The tension between us was thick, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of us. I wanted to explain, to tell him why I left, but the words stuck in my throat. What could I say? That I was scared? That I wasn’t good enough for him?

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Are you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to these last few years? Or do I have to guess?” He motioned the map in front of him.

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. The old me—the con artist—was good at staying cool under pressure. But sitting here, across from Beau, my past and present crashing together, I felt completely exposed.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said, forcing a smirk I didn’t feel.

His gaze hardened slightly. “Try me.”

I leaned back in my chair, trying to regain some control. “It’s not what it looks like. I wasn’t involved in that mess you claim. Yeah, I worked for a guy who… let’s just say he wasn’t exactly on the right side of the law. But that was a long time ago.”

Beau didn’t say anything, just watched me with those intense eyes, waiting for more. I could feel him seeing through every half-truth, every lie I was about to tell.

“Look,” I sighed, “I’m good at what I do. Too good, apparently. But I’m not the bad guy here. I didn’t expect to get dragged into some old case. It’s a misunderstanding.”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And what should I believe, Y/N? The woman who ran out on me without a word? Or the con artist who’s sitting in front of me now?”

My breath caught in my throat, his words cutting deeper than I’d expected. He knew. He’d known all along what I was. And I’d left him to deal with the pieces.

“I never meant to hurt you,” I said softly, my voice cracking.

Beau’s jaw clenched, the tension rolling off him in waves. “Anyway.”

The silence between us stretched on, heavy and suffocating. I didn’t know what to say. For once, I had no plan, no angle. It was just me and him, with all the lies I’d told hanging between us.

Finally, Beau stood up, his expression unreadable. “You’ll have your chance to explain everything in court. Until then, you’re staying here.”

He turned to leave, but just before he walked out the door, he stopped and glanced back at me, his eyes softer, almost sad.

“Five years, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I waited for you to come back. But I guess I never thought it would be like this.”

And just like that, he was gone. The door closed behind him with a finality that echoed through the empty room.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the cold, metal table in front of me. I had been prepared to face the law, the consequences of my actions.

But I wasn’t prepared to face Beau.

--

After hours of being questioned and trying to maintain my calm facade, they finally led me to a cell for the night. The cold metal bars and uncomfortable cot were a far cry from the life I’d gotten used to. But it wasn’t the first time I found myself behind bars—though, this time, the stakes felt higher. This time, it wasn’t just a con gone wrong or a deal gone sideways. This time, it was Beau.

The weight of the past—the lies, the broken promises—pressed on my chest as I lay on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling. I replayed the moment he walked into that interrogation room over and over in my mind. The look in his eyes, the way he had spoken to me like I was both a stranger and someone he knew too well. Five years, and it felt like no time had passed. I hated that I still cared. I hated that he still had that effect on me.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but the memories wouldn’t let me rest. What could have been. What I’d lost.

By morning, I was exhausted, but I wasn’t surprised when Beau showed up again. This time, though, there was something different in his demeanor. Less tension, more determination.

He stepped into the cell block, arms crossed as he leaned against the bars. “You look like hell,” he said, though there was a flicker of something softer in his tone.

“Thanks, Sheriff,” I muttered, pushing myself up to sit on the edge of the cot. “It’s not exactly the Four Seasons in here.”

He didn’t smile. His eyes, clear and unreadable, stayed locked on mine as he walked over and unlocked the door.

“We need to talk,” Beau said, his voice low, all business. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. “A proposition? Let me guess, you’re about to offer me a way out of here if I spill some dirt?”

He shrugged, leaning against the wall with that infuriating calm of his. “Something like that. Here’s the deal: you work with us on this case, become an informant, and help us bring down the drug ring you were involved with years ago. In return, I’ll see what I can do about your punishment.”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. “What do you have on me, Beau? Because I don’t think you’re offering this out of the kindness of your heart.”

For a moment, his expression hardened, but then he sighed. “Right now? We’ve only got this case—the drug operation from a few years back. We can link you to some old players, but nothing major... Yet.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in.

“But I’m good at digging, Y/N. If I want to, I’ll find more. I know now how you operate. You’ve left a trail, and it’s only a matter of time before I catch up to it.”

My stomach tightened. He wasn’t bluffing, and I knew it. I’d done a lot of things over the years, and if Beau really wanted to bring me down, he could. He’d find enough to keep me locked up for a long time.

“So, what?” I asked, leaning back against the wall and crossing my arms. “You want me to turn informant, feed you intel on the people I worked with, and in exchange, you’ll make sure I don’t rot in here for the rest of my life?”

“Pretty much.” His voice was even, controlled. “You help us, and I’ll do what I can to make sure you walk away from this with as little damage as possible.”

I stared at him, trying to gauge if this was a trick, but I knew Beau well enough to know he didn’t play games like I did. He was giving me a chance—a real one. Maybe the only one I’d get.

I looked down at my hands, the cuffs no longer around my wrists but the weight of the offer felt just as binding. Was this the way out? The part of me that had always survived by running wanted to take the deal, to keep my head above water and stay one step ahead of the law. But there was another part of me, the one that had started to unravel the moment Beau walked into that interrogation room, that wondered if I was finally done running.

“Fine,” I said after a long silence, my voice steady. “I’ll do it. I’ll work with you. But I want to know what I’m dealing with here. How much danger am I in?”

Beau’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The drug baron you worked for, Declan King, is still a player. He’s gone underground, but his network is vast, and we’ve been after him for years. You’ve got connections. You’ve got intel. That’s why we need you.” He paused, his eyes darkening slightly.

“But make no mistake, Y/N—if King or his people find out you’re working with us, you’ll be in more danger than just sitting in this cell.”

I swallowed, nodding. I knew what I was getting into. Hell, I’d danced with danger my whole life. This was just another step in the same game.

“Alright, Sheriff,” I said, standing up and meeting his gaze. “I’m in. I’ll help you take down King.”

Beau didn’t move for a moment, just stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was bluffing. But then he nodded once, curtly. “Good. You’ll start today. We’ll set up a safe line of communication, and you’ll feed us whatever you know. But don’t think for a second this is going to be easy. One misstep, and this deal’s off.”

I forced a smile, though my heart was pounding in my chest. “Don’t worry. I don’t make missteps.”

His eyes flickered with something—something I couldn’t quite read—but he turned to leave, pausing just before stepping out of the cell.

“And, Y/N?” he said, his voice soft but laced with warning. “This isn’t just about you getting out of trouble. I expect you to come through on this. Don’t make me regret giving you this chance.”

The door shut behind him, and I was left alone in the cell, the reality of the deal sinking in. I had agreed to work with the law—to work with Beau—and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing or setting myself up for a fall.

But one thing was certain: there was no turning back now.

--

Let me know what you think, like, share or comment <3 If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Taglist: -> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read!

@kr804573 @nancymcl@suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @yvonneeeee @lmg14

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 5

Part One Part Four Ao3 link Part 6

Reminder I'm not accepting anyone new on my tag list! Sorry if you want updates follow me here or subscribe on ao3! Also some warnings for Steve having PTSD and dyslexia in this fic. These two are going to start coming up more often but they begin here. Storytime!!

----------

Typically, a character starts at 1st level and advances in level in the adventuring world, although he or she might have been a soldier or a pirate and done dangerous things before.

Steve blew all of his breath out in an irritated sigh, balancing his forehead against his left palm and leaning impossibly closer to the book in front of him, willing the words to make sense. He put his right index finger underneath the line he was trying to read, using the trick his Seventh Grade English teacher had shown him. 

Tyqically, a character stars at 1st level and advantages in level by abvemturing and morbid, although he or she might have been a sober or a gyrate and done dangerous thinps before.

He squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the urge to just grab the book and throw it against the wall. The sentences were starting to float around the page like driftwood, the letters choosing to make whatever damn words they pleased, and Steve was left drowning in the ocean without a tether as per usual.  

Why did it matter if the characters were sober or gyrating? Did every character swear to be virtuous or some shit? That seemed like the kind of thing a stupid nerd game would come up with. 

No, he probably just had it wrong. Steve just needed to read it again, but the thought of looking at the same paragraph he had been struggling with for the last fifteen minutes made him want to throw up. 

When Eddie had given him the book last week, Steve had just thanked him and put it in his bag with no intention of reading it. But, Hellfire was at the end of the week, and he had said he would have a character to show them. He was determined to do just that, show them that he was taking this all seriously, but he couldn’t make a character until he understood what the game was. 

And, apparently, he had to read to do that. Eddie had said he wouldn’t just hand everything to Steve on a silver platter.  

You have to earn it. That was what Eddie had said as he gave Steve the book. He was going to have to earn this. So he had tried. He had been trying for five days now, and he was only on page eight. 

Eight. Eight of like three hundred. 

Steve was starting to think that maybe Hellfire wasn’t worth all the headaches he was getting trying to read this stupid book. 

“Hey, Steve!” 

Steve slammed the book shut as soon as he heard Nancy’s voice from behind him, scrambling to hide it under his other textbooks and act nonchalant as she and Jonathan came around the corner of the table and stood opposite him. 

“How’s uh- how’s it going?” Jonathan asked, looking everywhere but directly at him. 

Jonathan’s hands were fidgeting at his sides, his fingers twitching like he kept wanting to take Nancy’s hand, but kept stopping himself just before he could. Nancy was staring directly at him with the firm sort of determination she always had, her shoulders back, her head high. Steve resisted the urge to sigh. 

“I’m fine,” He said, keeping his voice low and casual, “How’re you guys?”

“Good,” Nancy said, answering for both of them. She took the seat opposite of Steve without asking, pulling out the chair next to her so Jonathan could sit as well. She was still looking right at Steve with fire burning in her eyes, daring him to say something. 

Let it be known, Nancy Wheeler was never going to back down from a challenge. She was strong as a lioness, as stubborn as a mule, and probably the most amazing woman Steve had ever met. Joyce Byers, Max Mayfield, and El Hopper were all extremely close seconds. 

But he couldn’t really picture any of them doing what Nancy was so set on doing. 

Somewhere during that last god awful night, Nancy had decided that the three of them were going to be friends. There had been a Steve and Nancy, a Nancy and Jonathan, but never a Steve and Nancy and Jonathan, and she was hell bent on seeing it happen. 

And to make it happen, she continued to insert both of them into Steve’s life whenever she could. 

Walking to shared classes, forcing him to come upstairs to say hi and chat for awhile when he came to get the kids from her house, and, of course, random library meetups like this one. After so many of these little check-ins, so many stilted conversations with the former love of his life and the guy she had left him for, it really shouldn’t be too awkward anymore. 

It was still awkward. 

“You’re spending a lot of time with the kids,” Nancy finally said after she couldn’t stand another second of uncomfortable silence. 

The kids were an easy topic. They were something all three of them had in common. Steve could talk about them. 

“They’re spending a lot of time with me,” He amended, trying to give her a smile. He could try for Nancy. It was the least he could do, “They just show up at my house whenever they want to and hang around my car until I agree to drive them places.”

“Sounds like them,” Jonathan murmured, and Steve huffed out a soft chuckle. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, Jonathan could be pretty funny.

“If they’re getting annoying I can tell Mike to back off,” Nancy offered, missing the point. 

“No! No it’s fine,” Steve said quickly, trying to ignore the way his heart was suddenly racing. 

His mind flooded with a thousand and one things that could happen if he wasn’t around, all the possibilities, all the ways that his kids could get themselves into trouble. He knew that they were smart, and capable, and resourceful, but they were also twelve. Twelve year olds who had fought against hell. Twelve year olds that needed deserved to have someone to protect them for once. 

And Steve needed the kids too if he could be painfully honest with himself. 

“It’s nice, actually. Fills up the time, and better than them just being left alone to get into trouble,” Steve said with a nervous little laugh, forcing his face to stay easy and even. If he acted too weird about this, then Nancy would poke and prod until she found everything out, and Steve couldn’t deal with that right now. 

It was hard enough to breathe as it was. 

Nancy was giving him a searching look, pinning him down onto a corkboard and examining what she found there. He had already lost her, if he had ever had anything to actually lose, and now the thought of losing the kids because of her was making his stomach twist up in knots. 

It wasn’t a fair thought, probably wasn’t even an accurate one, but Steve couldn’t make it go away. 

“They are little trouble magnets,” Jonathan tacked on, clearly not understanding what was happening between the two of them, “But you seem to have them well handled.”

Something about what Jonathan said made Stvee’s breath come a little easier, and he forced his shoulders to relax. No one was taking the kids away from him. No one was doing anything. 

Steve was just overreacting like he always seemed to do these days. 

“Yeah,” Steve responded, just so the ball was out of his court again. He couldn’t stand needing to be the one to say the next thing to cut through the silence. 

Unexpectedly, it wasn’t Nancy or Jonathan that took that next step. 

It was Eddie. 

“Yo, Harrington!” 

Every head in the library shot up, except Steve’s. He cringed, ducking his head low and trying to avoid the stares that were starting to come towards him. Eddie, who never really seemed to care who was looking and who wasn’t, continued to wave at him with big over the top gestures, trying to coax Steve over to his table. 

“Is that Eddie Munson?” Nancy asked, perplexed.

Steve very quickly saw the out that had been offered and grabbed it with both hands. He stood up and began to stuff his papers and books into his backpack. 

“Yeah, that’s Eddie. I better go see what he wants, but I’ll see you guys around, yeah?” He said, sliding around the table and giving them a wave, rushing away before Nancy could ask any of the other questions starting to form. 

Eddie settled down when he saw Steve coming his way. He was alone at his table, completely surrounded by scraps of paper and open books. He loomed over them all, trying valiantly to make a tiny space for Steve to put his bag as he took the only free seat. 

“What’s up?” Steve asked, not exactly sure why Eddie wanted his company. 

“Nothing,” Eddie immediately replied, waiting a second and clearly enjoying the look of confusion Steve gave him before continuing, “Just thought I’d save you from that,”

He looked past Steve, and when Steve turned around, Nancy and Jonathan were openly staring at the two of them. Well, half of the library was openly staring, but whatever. Steve couldn’t care anymore. 

“My hero,” He said sarcastically, turning back in his seat and resting his chin on top of his backpack. 

“Why were they bothering you?” Eddie asked, futzing with his papers. 

“They weren’t, just sitting,” Steve said, not quite on the defensive yet, but still feeling that urge to protect starting to hum in the back of his mind. 

He had heard some of the things people were saying about the whole situation, and he hated the thought of Nancy or Jonathan catching heat. They hadn’t done anything wrong, at least, nothing that bad. They shouldn't have to deal with defending themselves right at the start of their relationship. It wasn’t really their fault that it just happened to come at the death of Steve’s. 

“That’s weird,” Eddie stated, unintentionally treading right into dangerous territory, “I mean, it’s not like you guys are friends,”

“We are,” Steve protested automatically. Eddie raised a brow, and he faltered, trying to find the right words, “Well- I mean…”

Were they? 

They didn’t really have all that much in common, and every single time they spoke it was clear all three of them weren’t really ready to be close, but Steve still considered them friends. 

At the very least, Nancy and Jonathan were incredibly important people in his life, even if they weren't necessarily his friends. There were a few things that permanently bonded people, and killing an actual real life demon was one of those things. 

But he couldn’t tell Eddie any of that. 

“It’s complicated,” Steve settled on, hating how cliche that sounded. Eddie’s brow furrowed and he rubbed his thumb across his lower lip as he thought about what he wanted to say next. 

It was honestly kind of cute. 

“Nancy cheated on you,” Eddie stated bluntly. 

Less cute now. 

Steve flinched back, unable to help his first reaction. Cheating was such a harsh word, burning and bloody. It evoked images of The Hawk, and spray paint staining his fingers for months on end. He had promised himself he would never accuse anyone of it ever again unless he absolutely 100% knew for sure that it had happened. 

Except, in this case, he did. Jonathan had told him, clearly scared out of his mind, but he had still manned up and told him. They had slept together when they were at that dude’s house, the one who helped Nancy get justice for Barb. Steve had listened, put the information in a little box in his mind, and put the box on a shelf. 

Because that’s what Steve did. He just pretended he was okay no matter what, because he didn’t know any other way to be. He pretended like the sight of his pool didn’t make him nauseous, and he pretended like they hadn’t all almost died, and he pretended like he didn’t wake up gasping for air at least twice a week. 

Steve pretended, because he didn’t know how to live with everything that had happened. But Nancy did, and Jonathan did, and the issue here was obviously Steve, not them. He had pretended Nancy right into Jonathan’s arms, and he had no one to blame for that except himself. 

So, was it really cheating when it was Steve’s fault that it happened? 

Nancy was right. He was really just…bullshit. 

And yet, all of that also fell into the category of ‘Things Steve Wasn’t Legally Allowed to Tell Eddie’. He just had to go for the bullshit pretending answer. 

“Yeah. She cheated on me.” 

“That doesn’t sound too complicated,” Eddie said with a shrug and Steve leaned back in his chair, staring down at his hands which were fisted up in his khakis. 

“Well it is,” Steve replied moodily, “It’s really fucking complicated, and I really don’t want to talk about it,” 

“But she hurt you,” Eddie said, still using that stupid statement voice. 

“Yeah, she hurt me, but I love her so-” Steve cut himself off, biting his tongue harshly. Yeah, he still loved her, but admitting that was fucking pathetic. 

And yet, Steve was pretty sure a part of him was going to love Nancy Wheeler for the rest of his life. 

“So that makes it okay?” Eddie asked, and Steve sighed, exhausted with the conversation. 

“It means I can forgive her,” He said softly, trying to will his heart to stop aching, “It means I still want her in my life. Jonathan too. We’ve gone through stuff together. It’d be weird if we didn’t become friends after everything that’s happened,” 

That was still probably too much to say, but Steve almost felt like he owed Eddie that much. The guy had done nothing but try to help, try to be supportive; he wanted to give him some kind of explanation for why he was continuing to torture himself with the sight of his ex and Jonathan. 

Eddie still seemed pretty confused, and Steve doubted he even half understood, but his eyes had softened up, looking at Steve in a way that made his stomach feel funny. Not in the same way it had before with Nancy, just…funny. 

“You’re a strange creature, Steve Harrington,” Eddie finally said, giving Steve a slow sweet smile. Steve shook his head, shooting Eddie a wry grin. 

“And you, Eddie Munson, are a nosy jackass,” He snarked. Eddie laughed, too loud for the quiet library. Everything about Eddie was too much, always. He stood out from the crowd- no he didn’t just stand out, he forced himself out. Everyone had to notice him, everyone had to see. Steve, who had always done everything he could to blend in, to become one of the popular crowd, it was thrilling. 

“Too true my liege,” Eddie said, inclining his head ever so slightly, “How’s your character coming?”

Steve rolled his eyes, digging around in his bag to grab the offending enemy, waving it around his head. 

“Well, if I could stop wanting to hurl this book into the Quarry, I think I would be making progress,” 

“What did the player handbook ever do to you?” Eddie gasped in mock horror, reaching up to pluck the book from Steve’s grasp and hold it protectively against his chest. Steve, already used to Eddie’s theatrics from their few interactions, just scowled and crossed his arms. 

“It’s long, overly complicated, and the letters keep jumping around,” He griped.

Eddie slid out of the persona he had created as quickly as he had come into it, cocking his head to the side and making those bambi eyes somehow even bigger.

“Jumping around?” Eddie questioned. 

“Yeah, but that one is really kind of an every book situation. I’m not big on reading. School’s just not my thing. Give me a ball or a kid to wrangle, that’s where I shine,” Steve said in a joking tone, trying to steer the conversation to other places. If he could get Eddie on a rant about basketball, or teasing him for babysitting, then they wouldn’t have to talk about his difficulties with reading. 

And Steve really did not want to talk about his difficulties with reading. 

It wasn’t exactly like he was ashamed of not really being able to read, except he really fucking was. What kind of person got to their senior year of high school and still couldn’t manage to read more than a page without wanting to give up? What kind of person still couldn’t manage to spell a single full sentence correctly at almost eighteen? 

An idiot. That’s who. 

But, if Eddie hadn’t already realized how much of a numbskull Steve was, then he wasn’t all that anxious to show his new friend. Everyone in Eddie’s circle was just like his kids, wicked smart and unafraid to flaunt it. If Eddie figured out just how much Steve really didn’t belong with them, he might change his mind about having Steve around. 

No, on the whole, it was just better to derail the conversation. But Eddie didn’t seem to want to be derailed. 

“What page are you on?” He asked Steve, his face frustratingly neutral. 

Steve bit the tip of his tongue, contemplating just how far he might get in a lie. Would fifty pages be too obvious? Maybe he could say twenty five, and try to get Eddie on a rambling tangent before he began quizzing Steve on statistics. But as Steve went to open his mouth to try and spin a story that might work, Eddie held up a hand, cutting him off. 

“Hey, I don’t judge. I just failed an essay because apparently Star Wars isn’t ‘an appropriate choice for analyzing the Hero’s Journey’,” Eddie said in a mocking false voice, handing the essay over as evidence.

A big fat ‘F’ sat at the top of the paper, circled in red. Steve’s brow furrowed, and he put it down, grabbing his own essay out of his bag. He and Eddie weren’t in the same class, but they did have the same teacher. 

She had given Steve a ‘C’, and Steve’s essay was only two pages to Eddie’s five. 

“Wait, do you mean the big wheel thing?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded, his mouth screwed up into a frustrated pout. Steve picked up his notebook and flipped to a clean page, drawing out a circle. 

“But it works perfectly, why would she tell you it didn’t?” Steve made a mark at the top of the circle, “Leia’s hologram is Luke’s call to action, the force is his supernatural thing, his inciting incident is his aunt and uncle being killed, Obi Wan is the mentor, the robots are the helpers, and then Han is too. And Chewie! Obi Wan dying is the abyss, and then Luke transforms at the death star, becomes a jedi, and saves the galaxy.”

Steve continued to make little doodles along the edges of the wheel, muttering to himself. It was a really good example actually, and he was kind of jealous. He had just used The Odyssey like their teacher had suggested, but Star Wars was a way cooler option. 

Why had she failed Eddie? At the very least he should have gotten a ‘C’ like Steve did. Even if she didn’t like what he had written, he had put in way more effort than Steve had. 

Then, he noticed how quiet the table had gotten. He looked up briefly, and Eddie was looking at him, his jaw dropped, eyes wide in a whole different way. 

“What?” He asked, unsure of why exactly Eddie was just staring at him. 

“Steve, how is it possible that you just perfectly outlined the hero’s journey, but school ‘isn’t’ your thing?”

He squirmed in his seat, instantly uncomfortable. His parents liked to say things like that- he was smart, but he was just lazy. If he tried, then he would get better grades. 

Steve would be at a dinner or some other stupid social function that he was dragged to and say something that was apparently impressively insightful, which should have been the right thing to do. 

It never was. 

Instead of praising him, his parents would always shake their heads, look at their friends, and sigh that if Steve just applied himself, he would do better. That they had done their best, and clearly he had the ability, he just lacked work ethic. 

It didn’t matter how many times Steve attempted to explain that he was trying, that he stayed up all night sometimes, just trying and trying and trying. They didn’t care. 

Eddie didn’t seem to mean it the same way as they usually did, but it was close enough to make Steve want to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

“This is a picture. Pictures don’t move,” Steve said, mentally praying for the bell to ring, but knowing it wasn’t going to. They still had at least a half hour left in the period. Plenty of time for Eddie to ‘try and help’ which would probably just end with Steve being even more humiliated than he already was. 

“What if I read it out loud to you?” Eddie offered.

It was a genuine offer, Steve could tell that it was. It was sweet, and it was kind, and Steve could never accept it. 

“You don’t have to,” Steve protested, ignoring the part of his mind that thought it might be nice to get to listen to Eddie talk. He was a gifted storyteller, and Steve was always greedy for stories, even though they were so inaccessible to him. 

Still, he wasn’t some toddler sitting on his mother’s lap, and Eddie wasn’t holding a picture book. 

“I just want to get what I need to make a character, that’s all,” Steve said. He just wanted to be able to do enough that he would get by fairly okay during the next Hellfire meeting. He just wanted to be able to prove that he did want to join them. 

“Then, I’ll read the parts you need for that, and I’ll help you fill in whatever gaps,” Eddie amended, reaching out yet again. He even physically reached this time, leaning over the table and squeezing Steve’s wrist once before settling back. 

Steve opened his mouth to agree, to just say yes, but his voice was failing him. The words were stuck in his throat, and no matter how hard he tried to force them out, they just wouldn’t budge. 

“Sweetheart, I’m a super senior,” He pointed out with a little self-deprecating laugh, “I’m in no position to judge. And, even if I was, I wouldn’t.” 

There it was again. 

Sweetheart. 

Eddie had called him that after Hellfire, and Steve had brushed it off, considering it a fluke or a slip of the tongue. Given the deer in headlights look he had given Steve the second he said it, that wasn’t a bad call. 

This clearly was not the same. Eddie had meant to call him ‘Sweetheart’ this time, knowing that Steve wasn’t necessarily going to mind it. He chewed on his lip, worrying it between his teeth as he tried to figure out why exactly he didn’t mind Eddie calling him a pet name. 

It was the kind of thing Steve usually used for girls he was trying to woo, the kind of thing a guy would say to a girl. He had never heard a guy call another guy ‘Sweetheart’ before, but no matter how hard he searched, Steve couldn’t find a single part of himself that minded. Sure, he was confused by it, but it wasn’t upsetting or anything. 

Just weird. 

Not even weird in a bad way, and wasn’t that a head trip? 

Fuck it. He already had enough on his plate as it was. Steve didn’t have the time or the energy to try and figure that one out. 

He got up from his chair and came around to the other side, sitting on Eddie’s left the way he had during the Hellfire meeting the week before. Eddie beamed, settling down and putting the book on the table between them both. Steve didn’t need to say yes, Eddie just knew, and for that he was grateful. He was already struggling enough as it was. 

“What page?” Eddie asked again, dipping his voice low and letting it melt the icy walls that Steve always kept around him. 

“Eight,” He said, pausing to gauge Eddie’s reaction. 

There was none. No snort of derision, no sigh, no head shake. Eddie just nodded, flipping to the right page. Steve let out a soft breath, forcing his body to relax. 

It was Eddie. He wouldn’t judge. 

“I was on the part talking about levels,” Steve added, taking the risk to lean in and let their arms brush up against each other. Eddie stilled for all of two seconds before going back to totally nonchalant. 

“Perfect. I could use a refresher anyway.” Eddie said, rolling his neck and shoulders to stretch quickly before clearing his throat in an over dramatic fashion, just to make Steve laugh. 

There it was again. The weird feeling in his stomach.

Steve ignored it. He ignored their arms, ignored ‘Sweetheart’, ignored his ex and everything that came with her, and even ignored the very world around them. None of it mattered, not right now. He pushed all thoughts away, letting himself get lost in Eddie’s voice and the universe he created with it.  

“Typically, a character starts at 1st level and advances in level by adventuring and gaining experience points (XP). A 1st-level character is inexperienced in the adventuring world, although he or she might have been a soldier or a pirate and done dangerous things before….”

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