#i try to recognize it and! I’ll work at it I will I will

[glambots]

BUBBLE, BUBBLE, MOON'S IN TROUBLE

Moondrop/Reader

Rating: SFW

Wordcount: 5k

A commission for @semidemi-minigod !! In which you give Moon a bath. But from Moon's POV.

It was difficult to say when it all started.

When he’d allowed himself to become so complacent. So vulnerable.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant feeling. But you made it easier. Somehow.

Even now, when all he wanted was to slink away into the dark, far away from your pleading eyes and pursed lips.

“Come on, Moon. Please? You can look at it all if you want to. I won’t stop you. It’s really good stuff. Like, expensive stuff.”

You moved around the cleaning cart, picking up and brandishing several different items in his direction, with all the nervous excitement of a salesman trying to land a deal.

His eyes moved over each object laid out, atop the cart’s surface. Towels, fluffy and white. Bottles of cleaning solutions. Metal polish. Different kinds of scrub brushes. A few toothbrushes…?

He didn’t recognize any of the brands, which meant that they came from outside the Pizzaplex.

“…You bought these?” Cautiously, he picked up one of the little canisters and held it between his thumb and forefinger, turning the balm canister round-and-round like it was an oversized coin.

Polish cream. The fancy aluminum tin flashed under the dim lights, like the spark of a distant star.

“Yeah, I got them all from a hardware place that was nearby.” You smiled, hands roving over the assortment to grasp one of the smaller hand towels. His head tilted a bit when you held it out to him, a lopsided smile gracing your flushed cheeks.

“Feel these! I swear, I have never felt towels as soft as these.”

Curiosity burning, Moon placed the polish back down and reached for the towel. He fingered the soft, fluffy fabric in a bit of awe. It was much nicer than the old, tattered rags they had stashed away in the Daycare. Cleaner, too.

“They’re Egyptian cotton.” Your grin grew wider. “I got you a couple of sets, so you can keep some in storage for when they each get worn out.”

“…Keep?”

“Well…yeah! I mean, they’re yours now.” You gestured at the whole of the collection. “All of this is. I mean, I can keep it if you don’t have any room. But this is all for you. You and Sun, I mean. Obviously.”

He looked back and forth between you and the cleaning cart, utterly bewildered.

And, more than that, suspicious.

“Why?”

He watched your expression twist into bemusement, before you sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes.

“Because I can.”

“What if we…don’t want it?” He couldn’t stop the hint of amusement that crept into his voice. Even if there was a little bit of truth to it. It felt…wrong to accept this.

You just pursed your lips, brows raising so high they nearly touched your hairline.

“Well, that’s too bad. Cause I already bought it, and the store won’t let me return it. Which means either you take it, or I’ll just throw it all away.”

He grunted, looking back over the collection.

“Liar-liar, pants on fire.”

“Nope!” You popped the “p,” giving him a little half-shrug. “I’ve got the receipt, and it says no refunds allowed. You wanna see it? I’ll show it to you.”

Moon grunted again, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his chin and cheek.

To take it…or not…

It would be a shame to let it all go to waste.

But! But. He had one more question to ask you.

“Why me? Why not Sun?”

He can’t help but spit the name with a bit of venom. Out of the two of them, wouldn’t Sun be the easier target? Easier to work with. Easier to talk to. A better fit.

Better…in every way.

The look you give him is hard to place. It’s not hurt, not pity…a little frustrated.

A little sad.

“Do you not…trust me?”

There it is again: that feeling of wanting to hide away. A little tickle of guilt burning through his wires and sliding between his gears. He didn’t like it when you looked at him like that.

“No.”

“No, you don’t trust me? Or no, you don’t not trust me?”

“…No.”

You sighed, pulling off the bear-eared cap on your head to run a hand through your already messy hair.

“Alright. Alright…I won’t force you to do it. I just…” You looked down at the cart, eyes misty and lip quivering a bit. Like you were trying not to cry. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

And like that, he feels something in him melt.

“Fine.” He folded his arms over his chest, as if they’d serve as any sort of defense. He hates the way his whole-body tickles with heat when the sadness on your face melts away into relief.

Because it’s unfamiliar. Different.

He knows for a fact that what he’s feeling is something that he’s not supposed to be able to feel.

And yet, you make him feel it.

And that frightens him.

“Make it fast.”

Guilt is there again, gnawing at his insides when you reach up to quickly wipe the rim of your eyes clear, a breathy laugh bubbling up from somewhere inside you. Just like that, you’re so happy.

“Alright! Okay. Okay. Um, I’ll start with the—I mean, what do you want me to start with? I’ve got all this stuff, and I didn’t even think about it. God, where do I start?”

Moon watches you flit around the cart, hands moving over each object in a frenzy. You finally look up after a moment, going still.

“Sorry. Just. Give me a second, I swear I know what I’m doing.” Your eyes move to the floor, like you’re searching for something. “Do you want to sit down?”

Silently, Moon reached behind him, grasping one of the small child-sized chairs, and pulled it out to sit on without breaking eye contact.

“Okay.” You chuckled, a rag in one hand, a bottle of cleaning solution in the other. He could feel the hesitancy in your movements as you approached, like you were afraid he’d bolt at any second. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

For a moment, you hesitated, as if trying to decide where and how to get started. Moon simply sat still, watching your hands and eyes shift from his face to his arms, to his chest, then back up.

“Hang on, I can’t do this kneeling—my back hurts too much for that.”

You grabbed an undersized chair and pulled it up across from him, gently taking one of his arms and spraying a light amount of the solution across it. Moon couldn’t detect any chemicals, but it did smell slightly…fresh?

“This is just water and soap,” you explained, gently running the rag across his forearm, rubbing it between his fingers and over his palm. “To get rid of the surface stains. After that, I’ll use the stronger stuff.”

For a moment, there was a silence that stretched between the two of you. He wasn’t sure if it was comfortable or not but was more than satisfied to simply watch your tiny hands work their way up and down his arm.

You swapped to the other arm, wiping it down gently from hand-to-shoulder, then paused.

“Do you want me to do your chest or back first?”

Your voice was soft, gentle and coaxing.

Moon looked down at his arms, flexing his fingers as he thought for a moment.

“…Back.”

“Alright.”

Carefully, you placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, running the washcloth over his broad back. Moon twitched, an odd tingle rushing through his wires at the sensation of your palm rubbing little circles around the spot where the hook to his line protruded. He tried to ignore it, but you stopped again, having noticed.

“Sorry, is that uncomfortable?”

“No.” He scrambled for an excuse. “…It tickles.”

“Oh.” From the corner of his eye, he could see a tiny smile cross over your face. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“We’re not,” he replied, maybe a little too fast. “Just…sensitive.”

“Sure.” The tone in your voice betrayed that maybe you didn’t entirely believe him, but you didn’t push the issue. He was thankful for that.

The thought of your little hands coasting along his metal body, trying to find vulnerable spots to attack and manipulate—it made his head spin. That was the last thing he needed right now.

Things were quiet again, as you slid the rag over the thin pieces of metal that made up his hinged neck. Anxiety raced through his system as your hand moved dangerously close to the back of his face-plate—where the switch sat.

One wrong move (or maybe, one purposeful move) and he’d be forced into Rest Mode.

“Careful—” Before he could stop himself, his hand flew up, snatching your thin wrist. “Not there.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry…” You quickly jerked back, panic flashing in your eyes. “D-Did I hurt you?”

He searched your face for any sign of wrongdoing. Something to latch onto.

He found nothing.

“…No.” Moon finally said after a moment, letting your wrist go. He felt a little bad as he watched you rub it, knowing that he’d probably held on a little too hard. “Just…not there.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You scooted around the edge of the chair, rag hovering just below the edge of his neck ruffles. “I’ll start on your chest now, okay?”

He didn’t say anything but leaned his head back to give you more room. That, and to keep from having to watch you run the cloth over the expanse of his chassis. Just the feeling of it was enough to have him balling his hands tight into fists at his sides.

There was so much intimacy in the action, as simple an action it was. Your face was so close, eyes squinted as you scrubbed at the stains splattered across his metal body. Sticky hands, paint, glue, dirt, grime—there was no telling what made up the mass of it all. But the feeling of it being wiped away was a very pleasant one.

He felt lighter, almost. Like the weight of the stains were being peeled off him.

You were extremely gentle when your hands moved down to his waist, one holding him slightly in place, the other moving the cloth down his sides and across his stomach.

Moon squirmed again. If he’d had a stomach, it would have been fluttering. Full of butterflies.

“Sorry, I’m almost done.” You breathed softly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

“It’s fine.” He lied.

A few more moments later, you finally leaned back, and Moon felt like he could breathe again. Not that he’d ever needed to in the first place. But whatever pressure had been hanging over his head was finally lifted away, if only momentarily.

You pulled out another bottle, gently drenching a small scrub brush across its surface with the oddly colored liquid. It smelled very strongly of disinfectant, and he flinched a little.

“This is the strong stuff.” You explained, offering him an apologetic smile. “It’ll get rid of the tougher stains—you don’t have a lot of them, so this part should be quick. I’ll try not to go too hard with it.”

“Do what you need to. We won’t run.”

This part of the cleaning process wasn’t quite as pleasant as the rag and soap. But you had been true to your word—your touch was gentle. Maybe too gentle.

“Harder.” He urged, after a while of watching you scrub at his arms. “We don’t have all night.”

You blew a few stray hairs out of your face. “I don’t know how you got this dirty. When was your last bath?”

He…couldn’t remember. So, he didn’t say anything at all.

You paused to glance up at him, but after it was apparent that you weren’t going to get a response, you turned back to scrubbing.

The bristles of the brush felt…strange, against his metal skin. Not painful. Just uncomfortable. It made him want to push your hand away, but he stopped short of doing so. You were just trying to help, and it wouldn’t do either of you good for him to make this difficult.

So, like a child sitting through a well-needed (but unwanted) haircut, he forced himself to simply sit there, squirming every so often.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you.” You finally said, your voice cutting through the silence. “I wish I could do something about the stains on your pants, but you probably wouldn’t want me to, uh…”

Your hands moved through the air, making vague gestures, before you just gave up and offered him a little half-shrug. “Mess with those.”

Moon had to think about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Once more, you paused, blinking rapidly. “What? Oh, uh—I was just joking!”

A spark of mischief fluttered in his chest. Your cheeks were flushing, the rosy color reaching all the way up to the tips of your ears. You couldn’t look at him suddenly, and his internals picked up a rapid jump in heart rate.

“Nervous?” A giggle bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him, and he clicked his invisible tongue, wagging a finger in your face. “Naughty thing.”

The color on your face deepened to a shade that rivaled the ruby glow of his eyes.

“No! I mean—that’s not what I meant. Just—I just—” Your lips set in a thin line, breath coming quick and heavy.

“Want me to take them off?”

“What?”

He giggled again, quite enjoying the way your voice cracked.

“My…” His hands hovered for a moment, just above the hem of his pants. Then, he flipped them upwards, as if offering you his wrists. “Ribbons.”

Your face was so red that he wondered if you could even breathe properly. Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. Seeing you all flustered made that bouncy, electric feeling inside him tingle and spark.

For a moment, you just glared at him, shaking the scrub brush like you were considering smacking him with it. Then, you sucked in a breath, pinched the bridge of your nose, and slowly let it out again, lowering your would-be weapon.

“I hate you.”

He snickered again, reaching out a single finger to gently tap the tip of your nose. “Liar.”

You love me.

The words were caught in his nonexistent throat. He could say it, to push your buttons even further, but something held him back. Hesitation.

He wasn’t…quite ready to push it that far, yet.

You sighed dramatically, placing the scrub brush aside, only to reach for one of the toothbrushes he’d seen earlier.

“Are we playing dentist?”

“You’re half right.” Amusement sparkled in your eyes. “This is for, like, getting into the tiny places. The seams between your fingers and stuff. I’ll be using it on your face, too, so…”

“You came prepared.”

You grinned. “I told you I did.”

“All this for little old me?” He struck a bashful pose.

“Yes, you absolute goober. Now hold still…”

The feeling of the toothbrush sliding into his seams was much more pleasant than the scrub-brush. It still tickled, enough to make him twitch now and then, but it wasn’t overwhelming.

You were so gentle with the motions, making sure to get every nook and cranny that you could work the bristles into. Moon was a little shocked to see just how much grime the brush was picking up, but then again—it had been a very long time since they’d gotten any sort of attention in the “appearances” department.

Every time you swapped to a new area, you dip the brush into a small container of cleaner, swirling it around and wiping away the dirt from the surface of the bristles. But even with such meticulous attention to detail, it didn’t take long for it to become too dirty to keep using.

You ran through at least three brushes before you stopped to take a break.

“Seriously, how the hell did you guys get so dirty?”

Moon could only shrug. There were several components that contributed to their current state, but the biggest offender was plain out negligence.

You sighed and shook your head, grabbing a thermos from behind the stack of bottles and tipping it back. His eyes followed the movement of your throat every time you swallowed—a strange voyeuristic feeling.

A rivulet of water dripped from the corner of your mouth, rolling down your chin, then your throat, then over the dip of your clavicle and down beneath the collar of your shirt…he tore his gaze away. Focused on flexing his hands in his lap, then folded them together and squeezed, one foot tap-tap-tapping away, anxiously.

“Phew! God, I’m sweating like crazy. Is it okay if I take this off?” You fingered the neckline of your shirt with one hand, using the other to fan yourself with your hat.

He really wanted to say no. Because that would make him feel weirder.

But he couldn’t, when you looked at him like that. So earnest and innocent.

Moon nodded silently, looking away once more when you reached for the buttons. It felt…wrong, to watch you undo them. The sound of fabric rustling had his foot tapping just a bit faster.

“Okay! I’m good now.” You stretched your arms up above your head with a little moan. “God, that’s so much better.”

Moon found it hard to look at you directly, now that you were sitting there in a tank top. It wasn’t anything salacious, it was just. So intimate. There was so much more visible skin now, and his eyes kept moving over the muscles in your arms, across the curve of your abdomen…

The shape of your body was so much clearer now, and that made him feel…almost shy.

 “Alright, last up is your face. I’m gonna have to get a little bit closer—is that okay?”

That was not okay. His system was on high alert.

But what was he supposed to say? You’d already gone this far, he couldn’t just say no. Despite really, really wanting to.

For a moment he felt the gears in his head grinding, a substitution for the teeth and jaw he lacked. The tension in his body felt like a rubber band pulled too tight, seconds away from snapping. It got worse when he forced himself to nod, only able to muster up a little grunt of affirmation.

“Alright. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. He did.

This was just. Too close.

You slid off the children’s chair, half-kneeling with one of your legs on the ground, a knee between his legs to balance yourself.

Too close. It was too close.

You reached up, rag in hand. Your fingers gently cupped the side of his face, feather-light touch sending sparks through his body.

Too. Close.

He felt his whole body go stiff as you pressed the soapy rag to his cheek.

Carefully, you moved it up to his forehead, then down to his chin. Warmth trailed down the metal of his face, burning in the wake of your touch. So hot that he almost couldn’t stand it.

Your eyes moved over his face as you swapped sides, smoothing down the crescent curve of his nose so delicately that it tickled. If he’d had the ability to sneeze, he probably would have.

“Sorry.” Your teeth dug lightly into your lower lip. “I know this is a lot. You’re doing a great job, Moonie.”

That did not help his situation at all.

Your praise struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he clenched his fists so tightly in his lap that he felt his metal knuckles pop.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you. I really, really care about you.” You paused to suck in a little breath. “I mean that.”

He could barely hear what you were saying. It was like static was buzzing in his ears, growing louder by the moment. All he could do was focus on the shape of your lips as they formed around each word.

“I…” The words refused to come out, caught in his nonexistent throat.

“It’s alright.” You laughed a little, placing the rag aside and reaching for the final toothbrush. “You don’t have to force yourself. I’m almost done.”

That wasn’t it.

You were just so close. The warmth of your body, your smell, the shape of you…it was suffocating him. If he leaned in, just a little bit more, he’d be able to wrap his arms around you, to feel the softness of your skin against his—

The abrupt tickle of the toothbrush rubbing against the seam in his faceplate made him jerk back.

“Sorry! Sorry.” You scoot forward, the hand on his cheek holding him in place a bit more firmly. “I’m almost done.”

Your body heat is suddenly all around him, then. You’re leaning up in his lap, both knees on the chair, straddling his leg. He can catch the scent of shampoo on your hair, scented lotion on your skin. He could count every lash framing your eyes. Feel the heat of your breath on his teeth—

His hands hover in the air, fingers twitching sporadically, just inches away from gripping you by the waist.

He wants to tell you to back up. But his invisible tongue is tied in knots.

He can’t stop looking at your face. Staring at you, as you maneuver the brush into the little dots lining his crescent-sloped nose.

“You have the cutest freckles.” You say, your lips turning up at the corners.

His body makes a strange noise. A low, grinding metallic sound that could be as much a growl as it could a whine.

That’s all the warning you get before he leans in, gripping you tight by the shoulders, and all but mashes his face against yours in a pathetic facsimile of a kiss.

It lasts for only a few seconds, but those seconds feel like an eternity. The softness of your lips against his hard, unyielding smile has his processor running at full tilt, fans blasting at full force inside of his chest, trying to chase off a heat that threatens to melt his insides into a gooey mess.

He was brought back to reality, then, as his brain caught up to his body.

Moon leaned back, shame burning through him. He slowly unfurled his hands from your shoulders, bringing them up to cover his face.

Why had he done that?

“M-Moon, I—what—”

Your voice is so small, trembling, and that just makes it so much worse.

“No, no.” He rasped, clawing at his cheeks. You stumbled back as he scrambled out of the chair, knocking it over in his haste to put distance between the two of you. “Against the rules. It’s wrong. Shouldn’t have done that. No, no, no—”

“Moon, stop.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid—” Everything was spiraling. The gears inside his head grind so hard that it hurts.

He had you. He had something good. And he ruined it.

Sun was right. He ruined everything.

He always ruined everything good.

“Moon, stop!” Your fingers twine through his own, trying to pry his hands from his face. He can hear the panic in your voice. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“This is bad. This is wrong. It’s wrong.” He wanted to hide. He wanted to crawl into the dark, curl up in the shadows, and stay there forever. Away from you. Away from the good thing that he ruined. His fingers try to find purchase on something, anything, to grab and pull and break. “Wrong, wrong, wrong—”

“Moon…!”

He feels your fingers curl in the thin fabric of his neck ruffles—and then you yank.

The kiss is clumsy, teeth clicking against teeth as your lips smash against his plastic smile.

Everything in him screeches to a violent, almost painful halt. You’re kissing him.

And you keep kissing him.

Every kiss is hard and passionate, lips moving across his face as far as you can get to, standing on your tiptoes. He feels you stumble a little as you lean up into him, and his hands instinctively land on your waist to help you keep your balance.

“Wait, we can’t—”

“Sit.” You command.

He sits, following your will like the loyal, obedient dog that he is. He can see the chair he knocked over in front of him, sitting in what was your seat, but that view is quickly blocked when you climb into his lap. Your hands are trembling as they cup the sides of his face.

For a moment, your mouth opens and closes. Your brow furrows. You look like you want to say something, but no words come out.

So instead, you lean in and kiss him again.

And he lets you. He holds your tiny waist in his hands and leans into your touch, allowing the chaos filling his mind to simply melt away as you pepper kisses across his face.

Cheeks, nose, forehead, smile, eyebrows, chin. Back and forth and up and down and over and over—every kiss has his head spinning.

One of his large, metal hands come up to cradle the back of your head, urging you even closer. His fingers thread tenderly through your hair. Amongst the chaos, your hat is knocked free, falling to the wayside.

The heat of your body burns so hot through the thin fabric of your tank-top, and with the other hand, he gently squeezes the flesh of your side. A part of him wants to slide his fingers lower, to dip his hand beneath the shirt to feel the soft skin beneath.

It’s hot, it’s hot, it’s so hot he can’t stand it—

But then he feels your tongue slide across the thin curve of his lower lip, and he jerks back in shock. The thin line of saliva connecting your lips to his snaps.

“I, uh—ha..ha-ha…” You laugh a little as you rush to stand, quickly reaching up to wipe the drool from your mouth. Your lips are bruised red and a little puffy, cheeks flushed a pretty pink color. “Sorry, I-I got a little…uh, carried away.”

“Naughty.” Moon purrs, wagging a finger at you playfully. “Naughty boy.”

He feels so light and…and happy. That’s the only way he can put the bubbly, buzzy, excited feeling running all through his body. He’s happy.

“Was that…was that okay? That I…did…that?”” You can hardly look at him, eyes darting back-and-forth. He can feel you starting to pull back slightly, and his fingers curl possessively over the curve of your hip, keeping you tethered.

“…Maybe.” He muses, head cocking to the side. “Maybe not.”

“Oh.” Your face falls.

“Maybe you should…do it again.” His head tilted to the other side. “To make sure.”

He can’t help but giggle when obvious relief washes over your face.

“You…” Again, your lips move, not quite forming around words, like whatever you’re trying to say won’t quite come out. You settle with an awkward, lopsided smile. “So, it is okay? That I kissed you?”

Moon nodded, swaying lightly in his seat. “Yes. It’s…okay.”

He really wishes you would do it again.

“Okay. Okay! Good. I-I’m…yeah.” You laugh nervously, your cheeks still stained pink. Your grin stretches from ear-to-ear. Then you look up at him, and your expression morphs into an apologetic smirk.

“Cause now I’ve gotta clean your face off again.”

He stops swaying.

“Ah….” Moon can’t stop the little unhappy grunt that escapes him. He can still feel the sensation of each kiss buzzing against his metal skin. “Do you have to?”

“Yes, Moon, I have to.” You chuckle again, once more reaching for the cleaning supplies. “You can’t walk around with drool all over your face.”

“I’ve done it before.”

You fix him with a look. “You can’t walk around with MY drool all over your face.”

“Boo.” He crossed his arms, slumping back in a dramatic pout. His hat slumped over his face, the bell jingling as it bounced off his nose. “You’re no fun.”

A little whistle of air escapes your nose as you settled the other chair in front of him, scooting forward until your knees were touching. You reach up, gently moving the bell back over the curve of his head and beckoned him forward.

Moon, of course, leans into your hand without hesitation.

And so, you resume where you’d left off, with you gently wiping away the remnants of your improvised make-out session.

“So. Um.” Your voice cracks a little. “Are we, like…I mean. Do you…like…me?”

“Yes.” He says simply.

“No, I mean. Uh.” You suck in a shaky breath, still struggling to look him in the eye. “Like…like-like. Do you like me. In “that” way? Like—like “that”?”

He’s not sure how he didn’t make that clear. He thought that he had.

But you look like you want to sink into the earth right now, so he can’t help but tease you a little bit.

“Maybe.” Moon crooned, daintily folding his hands between his knees and swaying side-to-side. “Do you like-like me?”

He can hear the breath catch in your throat, and you look away quickly, face flushing an even deeper shade of red.

So very cute.

“Y-Yeah. I do. A lot.” You inhale slowly, forcing your eyes to meet with his. “I-I care about you, a lot, Moon. You’re…you’re my best friend and I…I like you. A lot.”

He stops swaying (again).

“Hm. Good.”

Before you can react, he leans forward to gently bump his smile against your forehead. You, of course, stare at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

 “I like you…too.”

For a second, you look like you’re thinking about saying something—and Moon simply giggles when you lean in to kiss him again.

Maybe, if he asks nicely, he can keep this one.

[heliosunny]

Damn, you’re cooking so hard the kitchen’s on fire. I dunno how you can churn out so many works so quickly but kudos to you! I support the yandere phainon agenda.

:3 I had my ideas beforehand and most of the fic I uploaded are rather short imo so it didn't take much time. Tysm for reading🩵🩵🩵

Btw ppl asked if I take requests. I DOOO

Since I don't often answer people without a request, I think I should include a bonus chapter for the yandere!Crown prince Phainon fic🩵

Yandere!Crown Prince Phainon x Reader

BONUS CHAPTER

Phainon is not a man who shares easily. His love for you is absolute, obsessive, all-consuming. The thought of anyone else holding your attention for too long? Unacceptable. Have you ever wonder how he reacts when you interact too much with his closest confidants?

Mydei

Mydei has been by Phainon’s side for years. He’s unwavering in his loyalty, a steadfast warrior who would die for his prince. But even he isn’t exempt from Phainon’s jealousy. If you spar with Mydei and laugh when he corrects your stance? Phainon is suddenly watching very closely.

“Your Highness, your stance is too rigid” Mydei says, adjusting the wooden sword in your grip. “You’ll tire yourself out too quickly.”

You sigh, shaking out your arms. “It feels unnatural.”

“Here,” Mydei steps behind you, placing his hands lightly on your wrists. “Relax. Let the weight of the sword guide your movement.”

Just as you begin to adjust, a cold voice interrupts— “That will be enough.”

Phainon’s blue eyes gleam dangerously as he strides across the training grounds, his presence suffocating. Mydei immediately steps back, fist to his chest in salute.

“Your Highness” he greets, his voice even.

Phainon says nothing to him. Instead, he reaches for your sword and takes your hand, guiding it himself. His grip is firm.

“You don’t need his help” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ll teach you myself.”

You sigh. “You’re being unreasonable.”

Phainon tilts his head, a smirk playing at his lips. “Am I? Or do you simply enjoy other men touching what belongs to me?”

You roll your eyes, but the way his fingers curl around your waist, how he presses against you as he adjusts your stance tells you that he won’t be letting this go anytime soon.

Anaxa

Anaxa is sharp, witty, and always one step ahead. He’s also one of the few people Phainon trusts with delicate matters of state.

“And if we position the archers along this ridge, we can control the battlefield from above” Anaxa explains, gesturing to the map spread across the table.

You nod, considering his strategy. “But what if the enemy anticipates that? They could flank us from the west.”

Anaxa grins. “Exactly. That’s why we-”

“What are we discussing?”

Phainon’s voice is smooth as silk, but you recognize the edge beneath it. He leans against the table, his eyes flickering between you and Anaxa.

“Military strategy” Anaxa answers, unfazed. “Your wife has a sharp mind, Your Highness. You should let her advise you more often.”

Phainon hums, then, without hesitation, grabs your wrist and pulls you into his lap.

“I am well aware of my wife’s brilliance,” he murmurs against your temple. “But you need not remind me.”

Anaxa raises an amused brow. “Jealous?”

Phainon’s smirked. “Should I be?”

You sigh, trying to shift out of his grasp, but Phainon holds you firmly in place.

Anaxa simply laughs, shaking his head.

Castorice

Castorice is elegant and poised, and you enjoy her company. But the way you push her toward Phainon, joking that they would make a good match? He does not like that.

“I think you and Phainon would make a good match” you say teasingly, nudging Castorice with your elbow.

She nearly chokes on her tea. “What?!”

You laugh. “You two are close, aren’t you? You understand him well. Maybe in another life—”

“Enough.”

The warmth of Phainon’s voice is gone. You barely have time to react before he’s standing behind you, his gloved hands resting firmly on your shoulders. His grip isn’t painful, but it’s heavy like a silent warning.

Castorice shifts uncomfortably in her seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the way the crown prince is staring.

“Phainon” you sigh, trying to brush him off. “It was just a joke—”

“A joke?” He leans down, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, voice barely above a whisper. “You think it amusing to suggest I should be with another woman?”

You blink, suddenly realizing the weight of your words. “I didn’t mean it that way!”

“Then what did you mean?” His fingers slowly slide down your arms “Do you think I desire someone else?”

You open your mouth, but Castorice quickly stands, forcing an awkward laugh. “I should be going!” she says, her movements stiff, as if she’s afraid staying any longer will doom her. “I just remembered—I have, uh, urgent matters to attend to!”

She bows hastily and practically flees the room.

Phainon watches her leave, his expression unreadable. Only when she’s gone does he turn back to you, his eyes gleaming with something dark, something unsettling.

“You will never say something like that again.”

It’s not a request. It’s a command.

You shiver beneath his touch, suddenly aware that there are some things, even harmless jokes—that Phainon will never tolerate.

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 7

Part 6

“He should be back in school, shouldn’t he?”, Tommy asked as he tied his tie in front of the bathroom mirror.

Steve looked up from what he was doing, marking his personal planner with Eddie’s visitation dates. “He will. He needs time to rest.”

“He was in that hospital bed for months. I want him back in school tomorrow.”

“Tom-”

“No buts!”, Tommy said from the bathroom, coming out of it soon after. “If he’s well enough to play games in his room and call his friends on the phone, he can go to school.”

Steve knew what this was about. The will. “He got a clean bill of health. It’s literally in writing. You don’t need to parade Dustin around just to get what you want.”

“I meet with your father’s lawyer in a month. That old cretin won’t be satisfied by a doctor’s note. Dustin needs to be cartwheeling in that office."

Steve sighed. “I’ll tell him to be ready tomorrow.” In truth, Dustin had seemed ready to continue his life since he got the operation done. It was Steve who was keeping him home. But Dustin could stay his baby forever.

Sensing his somber mood, Tommy came over and leaned over him slightly. “Hey, I care about the kid. I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but I do. He needs some tough love sometimes and you kind of coddle him. Don’t argue”, Tommy said, cutting Steve off. “You know you do. Munson coming back has made you forget but I’m the one who has been here the past ten years. Dustin’s known no father other than me.”

Steve huffed. “And whose fault is that?”

“Watch what you say next…”

A lot of words were fenced behind Steve’s lips. How Eddie should have had a chance to raise Dustin. How Tommy was just like his father. The shirt he had found… Steve swallowed.

“Tommy…do you love me?”

Tommy balked at that, not expecting that kind of question. He swallowed, then cleared his throat, then adjusted his tie. “Steve, honey, of course I love you. I wanted you since you presented. The day you accepted my proposal was the best day of my life.” Suddenly, he was down on one knee again, just like that day, years ago.

Steve wondered if he called his secret partner ‘honey’. Or if they called Tommy pet names. He was still trying to figure out where he recognized that scent from. But he’d already sent that bunch of clothes to be washed, the evidence he found was already gone. Steve wouldn’t even know what to do with it. What did it matter that Tommy was cheating? It wasn’t like the two of them were having sex. 

“You’re gonna be late for work”, Steve said simply. He got up, planner in hand and walked out of the room to tell Dustin he’d be going back to school tomorrow.

As expected, he was very excited about it, ready to see his friends again and officially get back to normal. But that of course, left him free for today, so Steve decided to take Dustin with him to the club. Usually, Steve tried to keep his pup away from that part of their life, but he had to be there today.

“Why are you going to the club today?”, Dustin asked as they got into the car.

“Mrs. Carver asked a favor of me. And since she did a favor for me, I’m returning it”, Steve explained. She’d done a risky thing, giving him Eddie’s information. The least he could do was sponsor some new members. Especially when they were old classmates.

Once they arrived, Steve left the car with a valet and held Dustin’s hand as they walked in. Dustin spotted them first, running over to Nancy and shouting her name. She turned and caught him as he all but leapt at her.

“Dustin? My gosh, you’re so big!”

“I’m taller than Mike now”, he said proudly.

“It’s so good to see you guys again”, Steve said, smiling at both Nancy and Jonathan. 

Nancy looked as confident as ever, her hair cut short now. Jonathan looked as uncertain as ever. Some things never changed. They visited on occasion, which was when Dustin would see them as he visited the Wheelers. But those were always just one day engagements. Steve hadn’t seen them since graduation. 

“Chrissy’s been showing us around the place”, Jonathan said, looking out of place in the pastels, beiges, and whites with his black leather jacket. “Still not sure it’s worth all this trouble.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s something to do. And I bet Chrissy hasn’t even shown you all the best parts. Dustin, go on to the kids’ club.”

“He means the ~world class daycare center~”, Dustin said, putting on a thick British accent.

Steve showed him whose boss by scenting him before shooing him away. “Don’t know where he gets his dramatics from.”

“It’s a mystery”, Nancy smiled.

“You guys got any pups of your own yet?”, he asked. An innocent question. He might’ve heard if they did. But they were living in a whole other place and Steve wasn’t always plugged into the gossip mill. They could’ve had one and he just hadn’t heard yet. Their initial reaction, though quick and subtle, told him not everything but enough.

Jonathan’s eyes went to the floor for a half second and in that same moment, Nancy’s face and shoulders tightened before relaxing.

“No, we don’t”, Nancy replied.

“Oh, well, there’s plenty of other amenities for you to take advantage of”, Steve said, starting to lead them along. 

Steve spent about half an hour, showing them about different parts of the club before they sat down for some lunch. He smiled at them both from across the table.

“So, what do you think?”

“Like it’s a pretty swanky place to waste time”, Jonathan said, but he was half smiling too. “You come here often?”

“As much as I can”, Steve answered.

“Well, I’m impressed by all the activities. It looks hard to be bored around here”, Nancy said as drinks were served to them.

They were only able to take a sip before Carol descended. Steve just barely kept from rolling his eyes when he saw the smile plastered onto her face. Jonathan’s shoulders raised, on his guard, and Nancy responded to her omega’s distress, frowning at Carol. Their reactions reminded Steve of high school and how some things really did stay the same.

“Heeey, I hope you two don’t mind me borrowing Steve for a bit. It’s urgent.”

Steve raised a brow. “What could it possibly be?”

“It’s private”, Carol said before just barely leaning in and stage whispering, “Dustin had an incident at the daycare.”

Steve didn’t even think twice about standing. His pup was already accident prone on his own (something else he got from his sire) but this could be something serious. Was it the surgery? Steve quickly gave his apologies to the Wheeler couple before following Carol, confused when she took him into a bathroom instead.

She checked all of the stalls before giving the mirror her full attention. Steve stood there, hands on his hips.

“That was low, even for you. I thought my son was hurt!”

“He will be if you keep associating with Nancy and Jonathan. Honestly Steve, it’s like you’re the only one who doesn’t care about your reputation.” Carol wasn’t even looking at him as she redid her makeup.

“And what’s your problem with them?”, Steve crossed his arms. “Is it because they’re not miserable? Is it because they actually made it out of this town?”

“Well they ended up right back here. And they��re not as happy as they let on”, Carol grinned as she turned to face him at last.

Steve hated that he knew what was coming next. And he hated that he couldn’t just walk out and pretend to be above it. Because obviously Carol knew something about them and who knows who else she told. If rumors were spreading about them, Steve had to know so that he could warn them.

“You look like you’re about to burst. Just tell me.”

“I heard it straight from someone over at Hawkins General. They can’t have pups.” She made a little squeak like it was just juicy gossip and not something devastating. “Oh Steve, I don’t take any pleasure in it”, she said, reading his mind. “It’s just, this club, the people in our class, we have a status to uphold. Now Nancy is….fffine on her own. The Wheelers practically built this town with your family. But then she ran off with that mutt Byers? And after all that, they can’t have children?”

“They’re not the only childless people here”, Steve said.

“Andy and I are simply waiting for the right moment. There’s a market to these things, not that you’d know. You couldn’t wait to pop ‘em out. What happened to that big family you wanted?”

Steve HAD wanted one. Just not with Tommy. Not in that stifling house. He watched as Carol turned back to the mirror to spritz herself with perfume. 

“Meeting up with Andy?”, he asked, remembering her date night ritual.

Most either went without perfumes to let their scent shine. The ones that did use perfume often used one close to their own scent. Carol used complementary perfumes instead. 

“I am”, she said. “And if he’s busy, well I can flirt with one of the other boys in the office to get his attention. I gave you that tip so you make the right decision, Steve. I know you and Chrissy are going to sponsor Nancy and Jonathan. For the good of your reputation, your pup’s and Tommy’s…don’t. Ta-ta~”, she said as she walked out.

Steve caught a noseful of her scent and in that instant he knew.

Carol smelled like strawberries. She often used a fruity perfume, to make an alpha’s mouth water, she had said. It was the same scent that had clung to Tommy’s shirt.

He returned to the others, ordering lunch and eating while he felt sick to his stomach. Steve assured them both that he planned on sponsoring them along with Chrissy. If this was what they wanted, then he would help. They were very kind not to mention his scent, which had no doubt turned unpleasant.

But of course his pup, as blunt as ever, mentioned it while they waited for the valet to bring the car around.

“Dad, why do you smell like that?”, Dustin asked, pressing his face to Steve’s side.

“I had some bad fish at lunch”, he lied. “I just need to lie down.”

When they got home, Dustin rushed off, disappearing somewhere. Steve did as he said he was going to do and lied down in bed. He was hurting. But worse than that, he didn’t know why he was hurting. It wasn’t like he loved Tommy or wanted anything from him. It was just….just…

“Dad! Phone for you!”, Dustin screamed.

Steve shot up. He hadn’t heard the phone ringing. Had he been that out of it? He picked up the receiver they had in the bedroom.

“Hello? Harrington residence, Steve speaking.”

“Hey tiger”, Eddie’s voice sounded from the other end.

“Hey um, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. Little tyke called and said you weren’t feeling well.”

“He said he ate rotten fish but I don’t think that’s it”, Dustin said, also on the line.

“Dustin! Hang up!”, Steve shouted.

“You sound pretty healthy now!”

“Young man! Two words! No. Radio.”

“What?!”

“Listen to your dad”, Eddie said.

“You’re my dad too! Don’t I get points from you that negate his groundings?”

“Who is this sly fox trying to pit us against each other? He gets that sneakiness from you”, Eddie accused.

“Unfortunately, I do have to take credit for that. Dustin. Last warning before I make your bedtime six pm.”

Dustin groaned before hanging up the phone. Steve waited until he could hear the tell-tale stomping back to his room before speaking again.

“I’m so sorry about him. I don’t even know how he got your number.”

“I gave it to him, of course. I hope that was okay?”

“Of course it’s okay”, Steve sat back against the headboard. “Like he said, you’re his dad too.”

“So was it actually some expired caviar that got you down, or something else?”

“....Something else”, Steve said, because he could never lie to Eddie.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“...No. Not until I know what I wanna do about it. Or what it all means.”

“Hm”, Eddie said. And Steve could imagine him nodding his head. “You still feel down?”

Steve smiled. “No. Not anymore.” It was crazy what a short talk with Eddie (Dustin too) could do. “But since I have you on the line, could we just talk? Tommy shouldn’t be home for a couple of hours.” Especially if Carol was keeping him busy.

“Baby, I’d listen to you read the phone book. We can always talk.”

Steve’s smile got bigger. This time, he didn’t correct Eddie’s use of a pet name.

Part 8

[wondergirlsthings]

The Lucky Jersey

Riccardo Calafiori x Reader

It started as a joke. A silly, offhanded comment Riccardo made one evening when you visited him after a match.

“You should wear my jersey to every game,” he had said, smirking as he handed you his shirt, still warm from the match. “Maybe you’re my good luck charm.”

You laughed at the time, rolling your eyes. “Oh, so your skills don’t matter? Just my fashion choices?”

He shrugged, playfully nudging you. “Hey, if it works, it works.”

And somehow… it did.

The next game, you wore his jersey, sitting in the stands with his family, and Riccardo played one of his best matches of the season. He scored, assisted, and celebrated by pointing straight at you, his lucky charm.

So you kept doing it.

Every match, home or away, you wore Riccardo’s jersey—sometimes his official one, other times the oversized hoodie he had given you that still faintly smelled like him. And every time, he’d look up at the stands, searching for you, sending you a wink or a smirk when he found you.

The media noticed.

"Who is Riccardo Calafiori’s mystery girl?"

"The woman behind Calafiori’s incredible form—his lucky charm?"

"Riccardo’s secret to success: Love?"

You didn’t expect it to blow up, but suddenly, cameras would find you at every match. Fans started recognizing you, and even the club’s social media account made a post about Riccardo’s ‘lucky jersey tradition.’

One evening, after yet another victory, Riccardo found you waiting outside the stadium, his jersey once again draped over you. His hair was damp, his smile wide as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“So, what do you think?” he murmured, voice teasing. “Are you actually my good luck charm?”

You grinned. “I don’t know… maybe you’re just playing better because you want to impress me.”

Riccardo chuckled, pulling you closer. “Trust me, I’ve been trying to impress you since the day we met.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The distant sound of fans cheering mixed with the warmth of his touch, making your entire world blur into him.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to keep playing well if it means you’ll keep wearing my name.”

You laughed, tugging at the fabric of his jersey. “I think I can make that deal.”

And just like that, his jersey wasn’t just lucky anymore.

It was yours.

[strawberry-selfships]

waaaaa ok if this is an invitation (& I hope it’s ok for non mutuals bc I have not met you yet but you seem wonderful) I wanna talk about j jonah jameson aka that guy who really wants pictures of spider-man LOL

and this is really long so genuinely no obligation or pressure to respond.

ok here I go. he makes me so happy… he’s extremely passionate about his viewpoints and will say them to the world both by newspaper and by voice because he wants them to be known, even when being anti-superhero is an unpopular stance. he doesn’t care. he’s brave when people argue him, he’s brave when people slander him, he’s brave when literal villains come to try and take his life. both in the movies and in the comics. he may loathe spider-man (especially because he doesn’t know who spider-man actually IS) but he stands up for everyone else. he protects peter parker’s privacy and safety when green goblin is genuinely about to kill him. he stands up for marginalized people even when it has him in danger. he goes to work every single day in the building that says his newspaper’s name in bright big letters, knowing that anyone could come for him at any moment.

and his motivation? his motivation for loathing spider-man so much? well, they vary from iteration to iteration but two have stuck with me.

first is the one from the comics. his self loathing and his envy. this shit KILLS me because ALL of the positive things he says about spider-man are true of him too. (which I’ve rambled about in more specific detail in another post) he can’t see himself on the same level of bravery as spider-man so instead he uses his time to tear him down, be one opposing force to him that isn’t a masked villain. he’s so clouded by the popularity of spider-man and the tellings of him saving people directly that he can’t see that he also possesses these qualities, because the circumstances in which he is brave and heroic are different and not seen or praised by the public.

and the second one is from his radio show in the spider-man ps4 game which I can’t post as a video in a reblog so I’ll link it here and post this transcription:

I’m bad at distinguishing tone but I genuinely don’t think he’s joking or kidding or anything here. it’s passion. it’s all passion, and concern for the well-being of his city that he’s presumably grown up and spent his entire life in. because of the way his passion manifests, he struggles to not come off as angry. I'm sure sometimes he actually IS angry, but he's trying to say here that oftentimes he ISN'T and it just comes off that way because he gets loud when he gets passionate about what he's talking about. (happens to me too actually...) the presence of spider-man and his villains in his city makes him concerned for the future and it only comes out as anger, even if it is and even if it isn’t. but my point here which he said himself is that he’s motivated by love for his city and his passion for seeing it thrive and thus he sees the appearance of spider man as a threat to it, and that he's not trying to come off as angry. he just has a LOT of passion. I don’t know maybe that sounds really stupid. I’m not trying to say he does no wrong because I know he can genuinely be overly harsh, I’m just trying to say that he's not angry all the time even though he sounds like it, and that he’s capable of love and compassion, even if it seems like anger. and again I'm sure sometimes he does get genuinely angry about these things! I'd be pissy too if I was under the stress of living in such a dangerous city every day, especially as such an influential and recognized person! but it's not always the case.

MY WHOLE POINT ABOUT ALL OF THIS BEING…. I LOVE HIM. he’s brave, he’s loving, he’s compassionate, he’s concerned about the wellbeing of the future of his city as well as the people in it including those who are marginalized…. and yet he struggles to see good in himself…… I love him so much. I love him so much. I want to be there for him. waaa

uhhhh hey ! u there !!!! free pass to reblog n gush abt ur f/os or s/is n storylines n literally anything that makes u happy. i will respond (some tonight, most tomorrow) n we can talk abt it !!!!!! no amount is too much <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[mylittleredgirl]

the new laptops they gave us for work are so mildly annoying in every possible way, but none of those individual things is bad or consistent enough to get an IT fix, because most of them fix with restart and aren’t replicable and you can’t just put in a ticket that says “it sucks.” but all together it’s making me want to go on a sabbatical in the hard vacuum of deep space until it’s time for the next model upgrade

[danothan]

tough pill i have to swallow is realizing that “getting better” doesn’t mean “getting to do more things,” getting better for me means taking better initiative in protecting myself. and THAT means making sure i do LESS things

[rosicheeks]

🙃

[chibishortdeath]

Debating making a roleplay account cause they seem fun, but—

I’ve never actually roleplayed before lol so I don’t know if I’d be good at it.

I don’t know what character I’d try, on one hand I’d like to do one for OCs, but on the other hand I know those are not going to get very many asks, especially since their game isn’t anywhere near finished.

If I did a Castlevania one, that’d also be a very small fandom with limited asks AND I’d be honestly too afraid I’d end up interacting with or running into some specific people I’ve met in the fandom I’d like to avoid as much as physically possible.

Hmm, but anyway, an interesting thought I guess.

[void-tiger]

Trying to keep a lid on it but. Yeah. Literally don’t know what’s it like to NOT be platonically neglected IRL my whole damn life, only that I know this One Person doesn’t deserve to be at the epicenter of it anymore than I deserved to have been at the epicenter of theirs a year ago now.

…why am I like this. Why are we like this.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Spoke to someone I don’t know over the phone, 11 dead, 32 injured

[camgoloud]

today. i have experienced the HORRORS (opened laptop for morning meeting while seated between boss and coworker; was greeted with ao3 page i forgot to close last night)

[casandraspoems]

How is it that I’ve gotten better

But it made me worse?

Reduced anxiety

Made me unreliable

Always late and under performs

Still anxious

But not enough to try

Why is it I can’t seem to change?

Not in the ways that matter

Perpetually stuck at step one

Problem identified, now what?

Who am I to think

That I could be better?

As if waiting around

Would change me as a person

What am I supposed to be doing?

Where do I begin?

[laughinglynx]

.

[doublesidedgemini]

Part of the reason I started crying more was bc I was trying to plan a hang out with my bf but he texted me back and said he has to do this and that and this today

And then he sent another text and said I can text him when I’m ready and he’ll let me know what he’s up to and then I can decide if I want to come over

Yesterday he said something similar, “I’m welcome to come over if i want…”

At least today he texted me that he’s sorry he’s been so short on time BUT then he followed it up with “but I HAVE to do these things”

Which like I get it he’s extremely busy rn. But I texted him at the beginning of the weekend I had a lot of work to do as well if he wanted to be work buddies this weekend — didn’t acknowledge that. Then never texted me beforehand trying to set up time for us to work together, it’s always been a “I’m doing xyz and you can tag along if you want”

I told him he can just do what he needs to do today, which is what I told him yesterday. I haven’t seen him since last Saturday. This is the first week since we’ve started dating where I haven’t seen him and it feels really terribly bad :(

[gilverrwrites]

I love imaging Dick, Tim, and Damian sneaking around trying to meet Jasons new gf because they just wanna be involved in his life and they know if they they leave it to Jay they wont meet her u til they're married with kids 😭

AND ‘omg us meeting Jason’s siblings when’

AN: Ngl I love this idea too, its so shitty of them but they have the best of intentions.

Damian

A boy no older than 14 with eyes that pierce the soul was not what you'd expected to find on Jason's couch the very first time he'd left you alone there. Jason had to dip out unexpectedly early, and had promised you run of the place until he got back so you'd slept in as long as you could and were on your way to make breakfast when you're greeted by the hell-child.

Once your initial fright wears off you realise you recognize him from a photo Jay had showed you which makes you feel slightly more at ease.

“Good morning? Damian right?” You offer as you pass him, be-lining for the coffee machine, you're gonna need caffeine if you're meeting any member of Jay's family for the first time. “Can I get you anything?”

“Alfred says it's unbecoming to sleep past 9.” Besides the initial glare he'd graced you with as you emerged from the bedroom, he doesn't even look up at you, his eyes glued to the pages of a book. Like brother like brother, you guess.

“Oh, well. Good thing Alfreds not here then.” You add a small laugh, trying to inject some humour to the situation. Damian does not respond in kind. “Is that a no? I think there's some chocolate cereal around here somewhere.”

“What do you do for work that allows you to be in my brother's home in the middle of the day?”

Jeez this kid is no-nonsense. “Or I could make pancakes, I make really good pancakes.”

“And tell me what exactly are your intentions with my baby brother?” Baby?

“I think there's some chocolate chips around here somewhere. Jason says you like chocolate. Chocolate pancakes?”

“Do you always avoid questions?”

“Are you always so intense?”

He slams the book closed and you nearly jump on the spot. He finally looks at you, really looks at you and as you stare back his features begin to soften slightly.

“I’ll have a coffee.”

You're certain from the sly look on his face that he's probably not allowed coffee. He certainly doesn't need any. But screw it, he's not your kid and if it gets him to like a little, you'll take the risk.

So you pour two coffees and join him on the couch. His questions do not cease until Jason returns about an hour later. He couldn't care less about the coffee, but he does care about Damian breaking in to interrogate his partner and immediately kicks Damian out.

Dick

Dick finds out about your existence from one of Damian’s letters, and he's subtle but pushy about meeting you. Not that you're aware. He keeps ‘dropping by’ Jason's apartment ‘just to see his lil brother’, no other reason but is told to get lost or downright ignored anytime you're there, until he decides to cut out the middle man and turn up at your home instead.

“Let me tell you, you are a hard person to get a hold of.” He informs as he invites himself through your front door.

“Um, hello Dick?” As you stare at his lush hair and sculpted abs you wonder what Alfred feeds these boys.

“Yep! I can't stay so I’ve gotta make this quick.” he gestures for you to come closer, speaking in a playful, conspiratorial whisper. “Jay doesn't know I'm here.”

That would be why he can't stay, Jason is due at your door any minute now.

“But you two seem to be getting pretty serious and I think it's important that we all get to know each other. You following?”

You nod, and he gives you the perkiest, most genuine smile. That or he has that exact look practised to a T. From what Jay tells you, either is possible.

“So, Barbara and I, that's my wife” You nod once more, you're aware of Barbara also. “have booked a table at Casa Gotica for Thursday night. We need you to get Jason there without letting on that it's a double date.”

“I don’t know.” you finally give your nodding head a break. “Jay and I don’t lie to each other.”

“Right. I can't begrudge that. Very glad to hear he's picked an honest one.” He takes a moment to straighten his thoughts, but his moment is cut short but the echo of Jason’s combat boots approaching your door. Dick’s eyes rapidly scan the room for a secondary exit before he settles on an open window. “Don't think of it as lying, think of it as omitting the truth. Whatever you have to do just be there for 6.30. Oh, and it's great to meet you!”

“You too.”

“Thursday, 6.30!”

Before you can agree he’s gone, presumably scaling the side of your building as Jay steps inside.

Tim

Tim was actually the first to be aware of you and your relationship with his brother, however, the very real possibility of being gutted by Jason for snooping in his personal life was too high for him to make a move.

But you seeking him out is a different story; or rather, you being the first to say hi when you bump into each other in line at the grocery store is different. It would be rude not to respond to your attempts at initiating a conversation.

“Hello, hi, are you Tim? You don't know me but I’m Jasons partner. Its so great to meet you.”

“I know who you are.” He states rather ominously, eyes darting around behind you. “Is he here?”

“No, but he's picking me up after.” His shoulders visibly ease.

“Cool cool cool.” He’s suddenly much more personable. “So, I hear you're into…”

That chatting doesn't dry or lul at all as the queue dwindles and both buy your groceries. He waits with you until you get confirmation from Jay that he's on his way. He's easily the chillest sibling you've met thus far.

When Jason arrives he gets out of the car to open the boot and passenger door for you as always, but not before he thrusts his phone in your face. “Where is he?”

Displayed on the screen is a selfie of Tim with you in the background, you absolutely do not remember it being taken.