#july mini prompt

[poetry-fiction-challenge]

July Challenge Day 22

From Good Bones

The world is at least fifty percent terrible, and that's a conservative estimate.

[tlmtwelve]

Phee already knows all the constellations, but she likes listening to Tech explain them.

Week 9 Prompt: @summer-of-bad-batch

[my-autistic-self]

Random Prompt #27

Dogs or cats? Well, I like dogs since I grow up with them. However, the funny thing is that I might have grown up with dogs; I’m more of a cat person. Probably because cats don’t bark, and I don’t need to take them out because their bathroom is the litter, but that’s just me. That a photo of my cat. God rest his soul.

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

@julybreakbingo it's over, and I'm profoundly sad, but I loved it. <3 (I know I only needed one alternate, but I loved them all soooo...) First prompt here Last prompt here

See you next year!

[steddieasitgoes]

Detours & Second Chances

written for @steddie-week Day 5 prompt: Reunion / Getting Back Together Rating: T | wc: 3545 | no cw Another big thank you to @sidekickjoey and @thefreakandthehair for giving this a beta read for me! Read on ao3

Steve had high hopes for this road trip. 

Just him, the twins, and the wide open roads with the promise of the beach and Disneyland on the horizon. He knew better than to plan it down to the second, especially when traveling with Mabel and Ollie, but he did hope to keep to some kind of schedule. A few nights here, a couple of nights there, a handful of free time hours carved into nearly every day so the kids could pick which tacky roadside attraction they could visit and then gloat to Aunt Robin about seeing. 

What Steve hadn’t planned for was the Winnebago going up in smoke four and a half hours from Disneyland on I-15. 

The good news is that it happened just as they entered Las Vegas, Nevada, and not thirty minutes later in the middle of the Nevada-California desert. The bad news is that it happened just as they entered Las Vegas, Nevada on a Sunday afternoon when everyone was trying to leave. 

Steve expects the drivers around him to curse and flip him off. At the very least, he imagines them shaking their heads in disapproval as they slowly inch past the smoking Winnebago broken down in the middle of the three-lane highway. And there is some of that, honking horns and judgmental gazes, enough that he has to explain to Mabel and Ollie that showing someone your middle finger is not nice and no you shouldn’t do it to each other. But there’s also a handful of Sunday travelers who take pity on him. 

Two truck drivers manage to get their rigs off onto the shoulder and then mosey their way over to see if they can help Steve identify why the RV is smoking. A woman in a mini-van full of preteens in sports jerseys offers him an entire ice chest full of snacks for Mabel and Ollie. Some good Samaritan even makes the half-mile hike to the nearest pay phone to call for a tow truck so Steve doesn’t have to leave the kids or make the track himself with them following behind him. 

Forty-five minutes later, they all climb into a yellow taxi while Winnie the Winnebago gets towed away. For a moment, he thinks he’s ruined the entire vacation, but listening to Mabel and Ollie talk about how cool it was to watch the “toe man��� do his job eases the guilt. 

Unfortunately, the repair shop is nowhere near as exciting as standing in the middle of I-15 — at least, that’s what Ollie tells Steve five minutes after they’ve walked into the garage. Steve tries his best to keep everyone’s spirits up in between filing out paperwork and bargaining with the mechanic over the price of the repairs. He lets the kid raid the vending machine and spread it all out on the worn plastic chairs in the makeshift lobby like some kind of five-star buffet. It’s mainly cookies and chips, a few candy bars, and a granola bar Mabel even generously spent $1.10 on for him. 

It’s not the worst meal they’ve had on the trip — that honor goes to the gas station in Kearney, Nebraska, and the hot dogs he knew were a bad idea — but it’s definitely the least nutritious. And, in hindsight, it’s not the best idea now that Mabel and Ollie are hyped up on sugar in a small space with no central air conditioning. He gets it. He’s almost at his wit’s end, too, and he has several decades of patience over them. 

He’s hot and tired and so frustrated, he’d break down and cry if he could, but he doesn’t want to upset the kids or ruin the day more than it’s already been ruined. Instead, he puts on his brave Dad Face™, leaves his pager number with the mechanic’s receptionist, and takes the kids to explore Las Vegas. 

The city wasn’t on their list. It’s not kid-friendly, and the July heat is anything but welcoming, but thankfully, they luck out and stumble across a hybrid game and music store a few blocks away from the repair shop.

The bell above their door announces their entrance to the quiet storefront as the sweet, sweet relief of the AC hits them. Steve closes his eyes, soaking in the cool air for a moment before Mabel and Ollie are tugging on his hands, trying to drag him in different directions. 

Steve knows he should put an end to their bickering that borders on full-on sibling bullying, especially judging by the way they’ve dropped his hand in favor of pinching each other’s arms, but he gets distracted when a figure emerges from the back of the shop. 

The footsteps are uneven, which makes sense when an ornate cane enters Steve’s line of sight. He studies it, taking in the impressive woodwork and paint job — Max’s own can is pretty spectacular, but this one is a close second. Soon, his eyes drift from the cane to the hand holding it, a ring on each finger. Silver and gaudy and eerily similar to—

“Holy shit,” the voice says. “Are my eyes giving out on me too, or is Steve Harrington really standing in my shop right now?” 

Steve’s eyes shoot up to meet the man’s face — to meet Eddie’s face. It’s been years, shit, almost a decade he thinks, but Eddie looks the same. Older, sure. A few wrinkles around his eyes and a softer belly. But he’s still him. Unruly curls barely contained in a bun at the base of his neck, mischievous eyes, and a smile that makes Steve’s stomach flip in a way it hasn’t done in too long. Yup, definitely him.

“Eddie?”

Eddie laughs, throwing his head back with the same carelessness as he had at twenty years old. Only this time, when he rights himself, he has to reach a hand up to his neck to massage the ache. “Man, this is some cosmic, universe shit!” 

“At least it’s the good kind this time,” Steve jokes. 

Eddie goes for a full-on hug, Steve an awkward side one, and as a result, they end up with their bodies smushed against each other, arms pinned between each other in the world’s worst hug of all time. But it’s also the greatest, as far as Steve’s concerned. 

When they separate, Eddie gives Steve a quick once-over before shaking his head again. “So, what brings you all the way to Sin City?” 

“A family road trip.” 

“Ah, so the six nuggets and a Winnebago dream came true, then?” Eddie muses. 

“More like two nuggets, a piece of shit rental that’s in a repair shop after crapping out on me on I-15, and a co-pilot that doubles as my son’s emotional support stuffed animal,” Steve says, then smiles. “But I can’t complain.” 

“Wheeler never jumped on the Harrington Express?” 

Steve’s interrupted by Ollie running at him with a vinyl record thrust above his head. Mabel appears a moment later, holding a giant box in her arms that’s clearly too heavy for her. She passes it to Steve, who hands it over to Eddie, who has taken refuge behind the glass counter. As soon as the kids appear, they’re gone again. Steve shouts after them to stay together and not to touch anything. It goes in one ear and out the other if the loud crash that follows a moment later is anything to go off of. Steve winces and looks at Eddie apologetically. 

“I promise I’ll pay for whatever they break. They’re a little stir-crazy from being stuck at the repair shop all day.” 

Eddie doesn’t look worried about it in the slightest. In fact, Steve’s willing to bet he didn’t even hear the crash, judging by the fond look on his face. It’s a soft smile, almost bittersweet if he had to put a name to it. It looks out of place on his face — almost too earnest, which makes no sense because Eddie is the most earnest guy Steve’s ever known. 

“Eddie?” 

“Huh, what?” Eddie blinks himself back to the present. When he shakes his head, the elastic holding his hair back snaps, sending his curls cascading down to his shoulders. It’s easy now to see the hints of gray peppered into the locks that used to keep Steve up at night — occasionally still keeps him up. 

Steve gestures toward the row where Mabel and Ollie are frantically trying to restack things on the shelves. This time, Eddie snorts and meets Steve's gaze with that familiar crooked smile. 

“Don’t worry about them. S’just boxes and shit.” 

Steve nods and then grabs a pen out of the cup on the glass counter. He twirls it between his fingers, something about the rhythmic motion calming the silly nerves running wild in his body right now. 

It’s just Eddie. 

“Nance would kill you for even thinking she’s a part of this circus,” Steve says, then panics. “To answer your question from before. No misses at all actually. Or misters either,” Steve says before he chickens out. 

Eddie left before he realized that little fun fact about himself. It was ironic (and tragic), considering he’s the reason Steve even realized it to begin with. Chalk it up to cosmic, universe shit — the bad kind that time. 

“Cause that could be an option to, you know. Obviously you know, but it’s an option for me too in case you didn’t know and—“

“Woah, breathe, Steve.” 

Steve takes a slow, deep inhale. His exhale is strong enough to send a few of Eddie’s stray curls fluttering before settling back amongst the rest. “Sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing!” Eddie throws his hand across the counter, squeezing Steve’s wrist, 

It’s silly, but something about the simple touch relaxes the nervous energy that’s taken over him ever since Eddie emerged from the back. A part of Steve wants to blame the relief on the touch, but he knows better. Knows it has everything to do with finally telling Eddie about this part of him he helped him discover. 

Steve’s been out to just about everyone he cares about, and now he’s certain he’s told them all. 

“So no misses or misters,” Eddie says, before hiding his growing smile behind a curl. “What about Buckley? Is she on the great American family road trip with you?” 

“Robin refuses to get into Winnebagos after, well, you know.” 

“Can’t say I blame her for that one.” 

“It’s just me and the kids. Mabel and Ollie. They’re my kids…I mean, well, obviously, they’re mine, and anyone who says they’re not are fucking idiots, but they’re not blood mine or whatever people say.” Christ, he’s rambling again. “I adopted them. Actually, I was supposed to be their temporary foster parent. I was in my second year as a social worker, and they were two and six months old when they came in the middle of a Saturday night and we had no one on standby. They came home with me, and then they just never left.” 

Somewhere in his rambling, Eddie made himself comfortable, pillowing his chin on his hands, elbows sinking into the giant mouse pad that’s stretched out on top of the glass counter. He’s dropped the curl, his bright smile on full display, dimple, and everything when he looks at Steve now. 

“I love a good foster fail story,” he cooed. “I have a few myself. Fosters that turned into full-on adoptions. I mean not human kids, cats. And a few dogs. Even a bird. But they’re my kids, you know. I mean, not that what you did is the same thing as me or anything, but I… I’m just going to stop talking now.”

This time, it’s Steve's hand that breaks the barrier between them, reaching out to pat Eddie on the shoulder. A reassuring thing that he hopes conveys that he’s not offended. Just in case, he spells it out for him verbally too. 

“I get it. Kids mean a lot of things to different people. If you say they’re your kids, they’re your kids,” he says, smiling. “Robin has a plant, Ferguson. When she first got it she carried it around in Ollie’s baby bjorn because she needed to ‘bond’ with it.” 

Eddie laughs, this time hard enough that the case between them vibrates. “Lesbians, and their plants, man.” 

“She rescued it from her ex, who was drowning it.” 

“We’re just all patron saints of lost things, aren’t we?” 

“Guess so.” Steve smiles, then adjusts his own stance so he’s leaning against the counter. Something pops in his back, and for once, he doesn’t make an excuse. Eddie knows all about their aches and pains — the way their bodies are thirty years older than they should be, thanks to their teenage years. He runs a steady hand through his hair, hoping beyond hope that it’s not as greasy as it feels and then turns his attention to Eddie. “What about you? Game and record store sounds like a pretty sweet deal.” 

Eddie blows out air in a whoosh and reaches for another curl. “I mean, yeah, it’s pretty cool. Closest I could get to being a rockstar, I guess.” 

“Do you still play?” 

“Occasionally. There’s a dive bar a few streets over that I perform sometimes. No band, though. At least, not yet. I’m giving myself a few more years; let the gray really come in,” Eddie says, fluffing his curls. “And then I’ll join one of those mid-life crisis dad bands.” 

“Solid plan.” He fiddles with the pen again, contemplating if he should ask what he wants, too. Screw it. Who knows when he’s going to see Eddie again — if it’ll ever happen again. It’s best not to leave anything on the table. “What about a partner?” 

“Me?” Eddie asks, pointing to himself before laughing. “Nope. No partner. No lovers either, really. It’s just me and the petting zoo. And Wayne, when the old man makes the trip out to visit me.” 

Eddie being alone all these years shouldn’t make Steve happy. He should want him to be settled by now, grossly in love with someone who makes him feel special like he deserves. But Steve’s heart is a traitor, and his brain is no better, already imagining ten different ways he could change that. 

Had he known Eddie’s been in Vegas alone all this time, he would have visited a lot sooner. Hell, he would have made this their final destination — he’s sure he could find something family-friendly here for Mabel and Ollie. There’s a lake around here or some shit, right? They could have—

“Shit,” Steve says, reaching for his beeping pager. The repair shop number appears on the small screen. “Could I borrow your phone? This is the repair shop.” 

“I suppose I could make an exception on my no-customers rule,” Eddie teases. “Phones in my office, straight back there.” 

Steve nods and rounds the counter towards the backroom but stops short. The kids. He almost forgot about the kids. “Do you mind keeping an eye on them?” Steve asks, tilting his head to Mabel and Ollie who have finally picked up the mess they created. 

“Of course! Don’t worry about them. I’m great with kids.” 

“I remember.” 

___

Eddie’s office isn’t unlike his teenage bedroom Steve spent many nights in. It has his typical brand of messiness but with an added layer of professionalism. Like, there’s an honest-to-God filing cabinet in the corner, but next to it is a three-foot-tall Yoda statue.  Papers lay haphazardly on the desk beside a calculator. 

There are posters all over the walls — some Steve recognizes, some he doesn’t — and endless photographs in mismatched frames. At least three wallet-sized frames with pictures of his pets — kids — sit on the desk. There’s one of Wayne and Eddie on his graduation day on the bookshelfnbeside photos of him with Dustin and some of the other kids over the years. 

He even spots himself amongst the familiar faces — a polaroid they took one summer in Hawkins. It feels like a lifetime ago, but a part of Steve remembers what it was like to have Eddie’s arm slung around him like that with the sun beating down their faces, causing them to squint in the photo because Jonathan refused to shoot directly into the sunlight. 

Steve gives himself another second to soak in Eddie’s office, searching for any other details he can find to fill in the years he’s missed — a pride flag draped over a chair, his business license framed on the wall, packs of half-used nicotine gum instead of cartons of cigarettes. Finally, he makes it to the phone and punches in the number of the repair shop. 

___

When Steve resurfaced twenty minutes later, the neon “open” sign that flickered in the window had been shut off. Eddie’s abandoned his post behind the counter, taking up space at a table in the game section of the store. Mabel and Ollie are sitting on either side of him, listening intently with wide eyes as he moves two figures across a board toward a hoard of waiting miniature figures. 

“I leave you for twenty minutes, and you’re already corrupting them with your nerd games?” Steve teases, ruffling both Mabel and Ollie’s hair in the process. 

Eddie scoffs. “You expect me to believe Dustin hasn’t put them through D&D boot camp yet? Please.” 

“Your stories are nothing like Dustin’s,” Ollie says, voice full of awe. 

“Yeah, he always wants to skip the fun adventure stuff and get straight to the battles,” Mabel chimes in. “That's why we like it when Daddy gets to be in charge.” 

Eddie’s head swivels so fast that the irrational part of Steve’s brain fears it’s going to fly right off. “You DM for them?” 

 “I wouldn’t call it Dungeon Master-ing,” Steve says, grabbing the back of his neck. The room feels ten times hotter all of a sudden. The AC must have shut off, he reasons. There’s no other explanation for his sudden flush. Not at all. “I really just make sh— stuff up.” 

“He’s the best make-believer! You should play with us sometime. Like tonight!” 

“Mabel, Eddie’s busy running this store; he can’t just stop to play with you. And besides, we have to get going soon.” 

“They fixed Winnie?” Ollie asks, jumping up from his seat. 

Steve sighs. “Not yet. That’s why we have to leave. I need to find somewhere for us to sleep tonight that’s—

“—I have a guest room.”

Steve blinks. Is Eddie offering his place to them? His hearing may be spotty lately, but he’s never imagined entire phrases before. Which means—

“I mean if you want,” Eddie says sheepishly this time. “I have a hoard of kittens running around right now, so if you’re allergic, it might not be the best place but—“

“Kittens!” Mabel squeals before rapidly asking Eddie a hundred questions about them, but he doesn’t stand a chance of answering. 

“Can’t we stay at his house, Daddy?” 

“I really do have a spare bedroom and bathroom. Plus, a couch and a semi-stocked fridge. And I wouldn’t charge you. The hotels around here are going to sense your need and charge you an arm and a leg, trust me.”

Steve would be stupid to turn it down. A free stay in an actual house. A meal he can cook with his own two hands that don’t involve a shitty stove that gives out after a few minutes. Not to mention, a shower with actual hot water. 

Plus, it comes with the added bonus of a few more hours with Eddie. Yeah, there’s not a chance in hell he’s turning that down. Not again. 

“Alright, yeah. Let’s do it.” Mabel and Ollie shout in excitement, spinning around the table. Eddie might not have the same energy level as them to join them, but his smile says it all. 

“It’ll be just like old times.” 

“Wait! You guys know each other?”

Steve laughs first, but soon Eddie’s cackle joins him and it really does feel like old times again. “Of course, I know him. What? You think I would let us stay in a stranger’s house? Don’t you know me at all?” 

___

Three days later, Steve finds himself behind the wheel of Winnie the Winnebago as she makes her grand return to I-15. When he glances over his shoulder as the traffic crawls for miles in front of him, he spots Mabel and Ollie throwing Fruit Loops at each other to see who can catch the most in their mouth. And when he looks to his right, Eddie’s there — feet up on the dash, hands protectively clutching Ollie’s teddy bear as if he’s hoping it offers him the same comfort it does for the six-year-old — handsome as ever.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be back in one of these,” he says fondly. “Especially not with you behind the wheel.” 

“Really?” Steve lets the corners of his lips twitch upward. Doesn’t try to fight the blush he knows is creeping across his cheeks. “‘Cause this is all I’ve thought about for years.” 

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic July 24 - prompt 24: Kid Fic [word count 954]

Sirius checked his tie in the mirror by the main door for the third time. He had hated suits and ties since childhood, when he had been forced to wear them, but this time there was no escaping it. He needed to make the best impression. He was terrified.

“Are you planning to seduce the headmistress, my love?”

Remus looked him up and down with a smile while he put on his own jacket. Sirius’s eyes widened.

“Is it too much? Do I need to change?”

“Pads,” Remus said softly. “We’ve just been called up to the school, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

“We’ve been called there because our daughter punched another kid.”

“And I’m sure there’s an explanation for that.”

Sirius sighed and followed Remus out of their cottage and through the streets leading to the primary school. He really was terrified. Everybody in the village had come to know Remus, his gentle demeanour, his willingness to help every time there was a medical problem because he had ‘studied medicine a long time ago’ which only meant he was able to distract the muggles long enough to use small healing charms on them. Sirius, on the other hand, knew he was the the handsome stay-at-home husband of Mr Lupin, the one who picked up his kids on a motorbike and wrote them excuses to skip school after a full moon. And now that Estelle had apparently punched a kid, he would be the father who didn’t know how to raise his own daughter. Anwell had never done anything like that since he had started school. Despite his black hair and almost silver eyes, the boy had Remus’s countenance, always his head in a book and helping others. While Estelle, despite being barely six and having a head of curly brown hair almost identical to Remus’s, had Sirius’s temper. Sirius shivered as they went through the school gates. What if he had failed in making her forget those three first months of her life in an abusive family? Worse, what if he had somehow managed to raise a mini version of his own mother, prone to violence and cruelty?

Remus took him by the hand as they walked inside the building, a helpful secretary immediately pointing them in the direction of the headmistress’s office. Sirius swallowed and tried to appear calm as Remus knocked.

“Come in.”

As they walked in, the headmistress rose from her seat and came to shake their hands. Estelle was in a chair in front of her desk, arms crossed.

“Misters Lupin, thank you for coming in,” the headmistress smiled. “Please, sit down.”

They took their places, on each side of their daughter. Sirius’s heart felt as if it was beating in his throat.

“Now, Mister Lupin and Mister Lupin,” the headmistress started. “In this school we condemn violence in all its forms. Estelle punched one of her classmates, and the only reason I’ve asked you here before deciding on a punishment is because she refuses to tell us why. I believe in hearing both sides, and Michael said he was just playing outside when Estelle punched him.”

“Why did you do it?” Remus asked, turning to the little girl.

Estelle stared resolutely at the floor, her lips a thin line.

“Estelle Hope Euphemia Lupin,” Sirius sighed. “Tell us what happened, will you?”

Estelle shook her head and Sirius’s heart beat faster.

“She’s never done anything like this, I don’t understand,” he said quickly. “There must be something else.”

“I agree, I hoped her fathers could get her to tell us what,” the headmistress nodded.

“Come on, ma petite étoile, dis-nous,” Sirius switched to French in the hopes to have a reaction, but without success.

He looked at Remus over their daughter’s head when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” the headmistress said.

The door opened and Anwell walked in, his hand firmly around another boy’s arm.

“Hi Dad, hello Papa,” he smiled. “Headmistress, Michael has something to confess,” he added with all the seriousness his ten years of age could muster.

“I was chasing Violet to lift her skirt,” the boy said. “She was crying, it was funny.”

Sirius shuddered. So little, and yet… He looked at his daughter.

“Is this why you didn’t tell us?” he asked.

Finally, Estelle looked up at him, her eyes filled with anger.

“Violet is still crying in the bathroom and doesn’t want to come out,” she said. “I wasn’t going to tell on her.”

Sirius just nodded, and the headmistress sighed.

“Well, in these circumstances… You can all go. Not you Michael, you’re staying and I’m calling your parents. And Violet’s.”

Sirius waited until they were out of the building to take Estelle in his arms.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in her hair as she hugged him back.

“I am too,” Remus nodded. “Of the both of you. We should never resort to violence, but some people only understand that language.”

“How did you convince Michael to tell what had really happened?” Sirius asked, putting Estelle back on the ground.

“It was easy,” Anwell shrugged. “I just told him Estelle would punch him again if he didn’t and make him spit out all his new teeth.”

“I could do with some of the old ones too,” Estelle smiled, taking her brother’s hand.

Sirius watched them skip in the direction of home, a mixture of pride and dread in his veins.

“Don’t you think…” Remus started delicately.

“Yes. They definitely have some Black in them,” Sirius nodded, before taking his husband’s hand. “Thankfully, there’s a lot of Lupin in there to contrast it.”

They kissed in front of the school before hurrying after their children.

[fictionalreads]

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 3)

A/N: Heeeeeeey...How y'all doing?....I know it's been a couple weeks when I said days but a part of this just did not want to be written! Also, this one is a bit of a beast, just over 5,200 words. This is the final part of this lil mini series, I hope y'all enjoy and the conclusion is satisfying for you guys.

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Prompt: Mike gets a couple visits, Shay has some news and Armando makes a decision.

Warnings⚠️: Cussing, Mentions of bad parental relationships, uh.... I think that's it for this one.

Mike Lowrey was no stranger to being called into back rooms for an off the books meeting. What was unusual was the CBI agent waiting for him when last time he checked none of the cases he had been part of lately had anything to warrant federal attention. Well, besides the one with his son but he had been cleared almost a full year ago now and Julie had corroborated his story. Nah, this was something new.

“Officer Lowrey, I’m Agent Garrett with the California Bureau of Investigations. Please have a seat.” She was standing at her full height on the other side of the table while gesturing to one of two chairs in the room, the only one near him. He saw straight through her bullshit tactics to make him feel like she was in charge and had the upper hand.

“It’s Detective Lowrey and think I’ll stand. Now why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what the hell you want.” Her jaw tensed and he just barely managed to hold back a smirk. She wouldn’t get what she wanted by using the same perp tricks he had been using when she was still in diapers. You can’t bullshit the bullshitter.

Coming clean, she began, “I’ve been put in charge of running a task force out in LA, similar to your AMMO squad here. Our goal is to find and stop cartel drug from entering the country, maybe stop a few murders while we’re at it.”

So this was about Armando, just more recently than he thought. Damn son of his was definitely payback for the hell he raised when he was younger. If he was back on his shit, he might not be able to help him this time.

“Sounds like a good idea. I wish you luck,” he stated, feigning ignorance as to what this was really about.

“Your son Armando Aretas has many connections on the west coast that could be useful. Figured I could use him to knock down some of my open cases.”

She clearly had found out their connection, but he still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news lately, but my son isn’t here in Miami. He’s been on the run for the better part of a year. I don’t know where he is.”

“You’re his father.” Agent Garrett takes the chair on her side of the table. “If anybody could find him, it’d be you. You’d know where to look right?” The flattery, the subtle leading questions to confirm what she believed and the sitting gave her away.

She was desperate.

If he had to guess, those open case files were all big cases that had her boss breathing down her neck. She’d probably been given an ultimatum with her job on the line and now she was desperate to do anything that would get her back on top, including working with a wanted man.

Mike sat. “What are the terms?”

“Terms?”

“What does Armando get in exchange for helping you?”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Terms are you don’t go to prison for aiding and abetting a murderer and he doesn’t get a bullet in his head immediately. Don’t know if you know this but cops aren’t a big hit in prison and I’m betting that’s especially true for you.”

“Don’t fucking insult me, please. Aiding and abetting implies I know where he is and I’m actively helping him. I’ve already told you I don’t know where he is. But like you said I’m your best shot at finding him. I’m also your best chance at not getting your men killed and losing him again. I’m not doing this shit without some assurances on his end. So I’ll ask again. What does he get for helping you?”

She shook her head. “You know when I came up with this whole thing, I did my my research on you. Figured I should know who I was getting into bed with. Everything I read told me you were one hell of a cop, always got your guy and made Miami just that much safer. Are you, this great cop, really going to bat for a murderer like him?”

That was where her approach was faulty. She was trying to appeal to his cop side, but he was a father first. “No, I, a father, am protecting my son.”

“I can offer him protective custody, knock some time off his sentence depending on how fruitful his tips are.” She offered lightly.

Too lightly. This was her throwaway offer, the one she knew was shit but was hoping he’d take anyway. So he called her bluff.

“He won’t come in for that. He had that deal with me already. All the shit that went down last year? The bodies dropped had to be put on someone and he got ‘em since he was a convicted felon, one that was alive and a part of the mess. Not to mention he ran off and became a fugitive. He’s looking at almost double what his sentence was when I arrested him. You’ll have to do better.”

Agent Garrett seemed to be debating with herself. She let out a heavy breath,”I’ve been authorized to grant him a special deal.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“What kind of deal?”

“The kind that puts my ass on the line.”

Something about this whole interaction was bugging him. “Tell me something. Why are you willing to put your badge on the line for someone you clearly can’t stand?”

“I don’t trust Aretas. But this isn’t about me. Its about making my city safer. His intel could be the key to shutting down major operations. He has connections everywhere, and that’s what I care about. I’m not putting myself on the line for him, I’m doing it for my city.”

“You sure you’re not doing it for your bosses? They up yo ass about getting shit done?”

“I proposed using Aretas. They were against it. Said we were cleaning up just fine but I’m tired of cleaning up after the fact and only getting low level dealers. I want to cut this thing off at the head.”

“At the end of the day that’s my son. I need to know that somebody has his back. Why should I trust that that’s you?”

“Like I said this is my proposal. My bosses made it clear that if he fails I fail. He gives me the wrong intel, he leads us astray, he turns on us, I’m fired. I’m just as invested in his success because I have something to lose too.”

“What’s the offer?”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

“Hi, I’m looking for Mike Lowrey?” Shay swallowed down the feeling of nausea, hoping it was just the nerves making her feel this way.

“He’s not in at the moment, but I’m his wife Christine. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Shay hesitates. Could she do anything? Hell she wasn’t sure what this Mike Lowrey could do for her either. She flew all the way to Miami, and for what? Some detective Armando had left the name of in case she needed help? This was a bad idea. She knew he was a cop, and after looking him up a supposedly good one, but how could she trust him when he socialized with a murderer? Ignoring her own dalliances with the man, she could only think about the fact that Detective Mike Lowrey had sworn to arrest people like Armando, not be someone they trusted.

She felt overwhelmed for the millionth time in the past month and a half and was debating just leaving when Christine offered, “why don’t you come in? Mike should be home soon and you can wait inside for him instead of in the heat.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the heat, Christine's sweet voice coupled with the endearing British accent or the way her face screamed warmth, but she found herself saying, “yeah. Yeah okay.”

Christine opened the door wider for her to enter and Shay marveled at the inside of the house as much as she had the outside. This guy was definitely a dirty cop. There was no way he was able to afford this on a detective’s salary. What the hell was she getting herself into?

“Please have a seat,” she gestured towards the couch.  It looked like it was more for the aesthetic than actual use but she was pleasantly surprised to find it very comfortable. “Would you like something to drink? I have water and that disgusting stuff my husband calls sweet tea,” Christine joked.

“Water is fine,” she replied with a smile. Shay watched as Christine stepped past a wall into what she assumes was the kitchen. The creeping sensation of nausea hit her once more. Digging in her purse and finding a ginger chew, she didn’t see Christine come back in the room with a bottle of water. Almost instantaneously she felt relief, so maybe it was all psychosomatic. Just her nerves going haywire.

“How far along are you?” Shay startled at the question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.

“It’s okay. What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

“I saw the chew and just assumed.” 

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Some assumption based off just a ginger chew. What if I just like them?”

“Honestly the chew was just the cherry on top for my assumption. You hold yourself the same way my sister held herself when she was pregnant for the first time. A bit unsure, scared definitely, but ready for war all the same.”

Well, damn. She didn’t know she gave off that much with just how she stood.

Ignoring how unexpectedly open she felt, she answered Christine’s question from before.“Thirteen weeks.” Suddenly Shay realized how this could look, a random pregnant woman showing up looking for her husband and not telling her what she wants, so she quickly explained. “It’s not your husband’s!”

Christine laughed brightly, “Oh darling the thought never crossed my mind. Mike may have once been that guy, but he’s not anymore. He’s a good man.” Shay kept her doubts to herself.

“Christine? Who’s car is that out front?” The man she assumed to be Mike Lowrey was juggling a duffle bag and struggling to get his keys out of the door, not once looking in their direction.

Smirking like it was a game, Christine replied, “It’s a rental.”

“Why do we need a rental?” He finally looked up, noticing Shay in the room. She could see his guard go right back up.

“Mike, this is Shay. She was hoping to speak with you,” his wife explained to him.

“Do I know you?” He was blunt but not unkind with his words, something she hoped would continue in their conversation.

“Mike!” Christine admonished before turning to Shay with, “Please, excuse Mike. He can bring his interrogation tactics into other parts of his life sometimes.”

“It’s okay. If a random woman showed up saying she needed to speak to me, I’d probably question it too.” She was hoping her understanding would get her some traction and not immediately thrown out when he found out why she was here.

Mike still held caution in his face. “So…?” He left the obvious question unspoken, wondering who she was and why she was here in his home.

Shay paused. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up and didn’t want to say anything in front of his wife in case she truly had no clue her husband was a dirty cop. She may have been desperate enough to find this guy,  but she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin this poor woman’s marriage.

Luckily Christine picked up on her reluctance to speak in front of an audience and excused herself. “I’m going to head upstairs for a moment, give you two some time to talk.”

While Shay relaxed, Mike tensed. Once Christine was gone, he questioned her. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“I was told if I ever needed anything, I should find you.”

Mike carefully focused his attention on sitting his duffle near the armchair, going to take a seat himself. He might not be looking directly at her anymore, but she knew all of his attention was on her as he spoke. “Who the fuck told you that? Better yet, why my house? Why not meet me in the station?”

Ignoring the second question, she replied, “Armando Aretas.”

Mike’s head snapped back to her. She was almost concerned for his neck with how fast he moved.

Continuing at his silence she said, “I figured you wouldn’t want to discuss him at work.”

“What about him?”

“He was in LA a few months ago.”

He first whispered to himself, “Dumbass don’t listen.” Then he spoke louder, clearly to her this time, “What does this have to do with you and why you’re here?”

She wasn’t sure where to start. How does one tell a dirty cop working for one’s murderer baby daddy that you need him to tell said baby daddy you were pregnant? “We were…together. I’m pregnant now.” She hoped he would catch on without her spelling it out but he didn’t.

Instead, Mike blinked. “What?” A million unidentifiable emotions ran over his face before he carefully shut it down, facing her with no emotion at all now.

“I am with child, in the family way, carrying a bun in the oven, whatever you want to call it.” There was still no response from him so she continued her rant, “look I’m not asking for him to come back or pay for anything. I’m fully prepared to take care of this kid myself, but not even trying to tell him was weighing on my conscience. So I figured if I found you like he said, you could pass on the message for me. I just need to be able to know I did everything I could to let him know.”

She had prepared for a lot of responses to her plea. Anger on Armando’s behalf, a dismissal, hell even laughter at her audacity, but his next words were ones she somehow missed in her spiral. “I’m not in contact with him.”

Shay tried not to be hurt at his response, not for herself, but for her baby. Okay, well a little bit for herself. She was in love with the man-yes, still- and knowing he truly didn’t leave a way to contact him again crushed the little bit of hope his note had left behind. Why would he send her to Mike if it wasn’t a way to get in touch with him? “So why would he tell me to find you?”

A pause.

“Armando’s my son.”

The statement was so far from what she was expecting to hear that she paused. “Wait so you don’t…you don’t work for him? With him? Whatever.”

Mike laughed loudly, “nah, I don’t work in that world. I stand by the badge.”

“So how did he…?” She trailed off, confused.

“Look our situation is…complicated, but if he sent you in my direction I’m gonna help you in any way I can. I mean, I’d love to get to know you and be in my grandchild’s life if you’ll let me.” His words were reminiscent of the night she had asked Armando about his family. He too had called his relationship with his father complicated.

Despite the unknown of it all, his offer was partly the reason she had found Mike. A family for her child, something she never really had. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” It may not be exactly what she was looking for, but she would take what she could get. At least her baby would have some connection to their father’s side of the family. But she still had a question, one that had no answer now that her assumptions were corrected.

“So if you aren’t dirty, how do you afford living like this?”

Mike let out a laugh louder than the one from before. “I’m a trust fund kid. Never really had to work but all I’ve ever wanted was to be a cop.”

“Sounds like one hell of a trust fund,” she scoffed.

Turning serious he impressed, “One that continues to grow from a few investments made along the way. This kid will have that same freedom. They’ll be able to do whatever they want in life and never have to worry about money.”

That statement alone almost made her cry. She didn’t have much growing up, wondering if she and her mother would even be able to eat everyday. When she had found out she was pregnant, despite making more money than her mother did she found herself worrying her child would have those same experiences.

She may not have Armando, a partner she’d hoped to have, but he had made sure she had everything she needed.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Habitual but flexible.

That was Armando’s motto. Habitual in the precautions he took but flexible enough everywhere else to not create patterns. Patterns were how you got caught, and Armando refused to be put in another cage. He always double checked his locks when he left his place, checked his surroundings before leaving and arriving at his place so as not to run into his neighbors. The less people who could identify him the better.

Which is why seeing his door wide open as he turned onto his street was so unsettling.

Normally he would just leave town, dump this alias and start over with another elsewhere, but there were a few things he didn’t want to part with. Upon his first return to Mexico, he had managed to find his mother’s emergency stash and in it was a photo of the two of them before he was forced out of the prison when he turned six. Despite his conflicted feelings on his mother’s choices and the lies she told him, he still loved her and this was all he had left of her.

If she were around she’d chastise his sentimentality.

He also had a letter his father had written him when he left Miami that he kept because even with the complexity of their relationship, he still wished he’d had the opportunity to get to know him. He wished he could have done things differently. That letter may be his only chance to know his father, even a little bit.

The last thing was a photo of Shay. He had taken it one morning before he left on a polaroid camera she had lying around. The sun had been rising and he remembered wishing what they had could be real, that he could stay in bed and wake up with her instead of having to run out and lie all the time. It was the only thing he had left of the only relationship he’d ever have again.

So he weighed his options. Either he went in and fought whoever was there, grabbed his things and hopefully made it out in time to not get caught, or he left now and hoped whoever it was left without calling for backup so he could get his things before leaving town. He either risked his freedom or he risked losing the only items that reminded him of his humanity forever.

He pulled his gun and carefully made his way into the apartment he’d called home for a couple weeks.

“Don’t shoot, it’s just me.”

Armando relaxed, but kept his gun in his hand. “What are you doing here Detective?” His tone was snippy, as though his father speaking to him was a bother. He knew that wasn’t true, but it was like he couldn’t help the animosity that came out when he spoke to his father. No matter how much he’d love to try with the man, he’d just get so angry about it all that it came out confrontational.

“What? A man can’t see his son?” Mike didn’t rise to the obvious bait of his tone, instead trying to lighten the mood with a tease.

Armando simply raised an eyebrow at the deflection. “Not when that man is a decorated detective and his son is a fugitive,” he coldly stated. He needed to know what Mike wanted so he could get on with his life. Who knows how many eyes are on the man, he was risking Armando’s freedom, not that he seemed to care. Irritated at the lack of concern for him, he accused, “you risked the badge once just to let me go, you won’t risk it again, not even for me. It means too much to you.” I don’t mean enough to you went unsaid but not unheard.

“Armando I’d risk everything for you.” The fight left Mike, and he sighed, finding a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re my son and I know I’m not the best at showing it, but that shit means something to me. Our relationship means something to me. I didn’t have the best relationship with my father so I told myself I wouldn’t have kids cause I didn’t want to repeat the cycle. But then I found out about you. And despite the fact that circumstances made it so it isn’t easy, I still don’t want the cycle to be repeated. I love you man. I’ll do whatever you need me to, to prove that to you. Including walking away if you say no to my proposal.”

There it was. The real reason he was here now, he needed something like always. Armando put his gun away in exasperation. He was so tired of just being used that he couldn’t help but get a jab in. “Whatever man. This don’t mean shit to you. It’s all transactional for you, I’m good enough to help you get what you want and that’s why you come around. So what is it this time?”

“Is that what you think? That I don’t care about you?” What the hell else was he supposed to think?

“If you did, you would have come to see me in prison without needing my help on a case.” He argued before quietly following up with, “I would have been enough of a reason to visit.” He hated when this stupid hurt boy routine flared up. He looked weak, like una puta.

Mike stood and stepped close to Armando. Refusing to back down, Armando met his stare head on, ignoring the way his throat was getting tight and tears were pooling in his eyes. “Armando I never needed you on those cases. I knew that if I could get intel from you and put you down on paper, it would help you out. I was trying to help.” He blinked and a single tear made its way down his face. It was too much now and he had to look away.

Mike placed a hand on his shoulder, continuing, “I love you. Nothing is more real than that. If I had known you would take my help as me using you, I never would’ve asked for your help.”

Facing his father once more, Armando spoke lowly, “Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado?” He didn’t explain what he meant, knowing his father understood what he was asking.

“Nada me hubiera importado más.” Mike asserted.

He nodded, finally having an answer to the question that had been burning inside him. He focused on the reason Mike was in front of him, not the emotions his answer stirred in him. “What’s the proposal?” He asked much more calmly this time around.

“LAPD is starting up a team like AMMO. They were hoping to recruit you to be a part of it, use your knowledge to help stop cartel drugs from entering the states.”

“And go back in a cage? No I’m good.” He shook his head, a clear no coming from him.

“You wouldn’t be arrested again, you’d be put up in an apartment. Free to walk the city after an initial probationary period of just work and home. After that, there would be twenty-four hour surveillance, random drug tests and check-ins. Eventually you would become a private citizen.”

It sounded like a trap. “If I don’t give them what they want I get arrested right?”

“Yeah, but I have all the faith you’ll be great at it. Plus I made sure it was as ironclad for you as possible.”

“Why would I agree to this? Sounds like a lot could go wrong and land me back in prison. If that happens I’m never getting out again.”

“You aren’t the killer your mother made you into. You only did any of it because she fueled you with rage and ideas of revenge before she pointed you at a target. If you were really a killer, you would’ve killed me anyway. You live by a code, and only do what’s necessary. No more, no less.”

Sometimes when he was feeling really low he’d think about what his life would have been like if he’d had a normal life. Would he have chosen violence anyway? He’d like to think he’d hav e chosen to protect. Maybe be a firefighter or an EMT cause he was still an adrenaline junkie, but maybe he wouldn’t have to hurt anybody. If his father was saying the same thing he thought, then maybe he could believe it to be true. Before he could think on it, his father spoke once more, shifting his whole world.

“Besides, Shay’s pregnant. We not giving another generation of Lowrey these bullshit daddy issues.”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Six Months Later

“Marcus we ain’t got time for that shit.”

“I just asked the man a question!”

“No, you used the question as a cover to try and buy some damn skittles.”

“Oh so now you the skittle police? I thought we worked narcotics?”

“Yo ass ain’t supposed to have that shit and you know it. Don’t try to make it out like I’m the one that’s going overboard.”

“Aye Mike what would they call the skittle department? The rainbow division? Don’t worry everybody! Mike Lowry is working the rainbow!”

“That’s homophobic.”

“It’s the slogan! What else would it be called Mike?”

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Man fuck you-“

“Your presence really wasn’t needed-“

“I’m just trying to be a good friend-“

“This is a moment for my family-“

“And now I’m not family to you?!”

“You called my family fucked up remember?”

“Yo son was tryna kill us and his mama was gonna let us burn in a fire!”

“Are you pendejos done?”

“Mike! That mean assholes right?”

“Yeah he just called us assholes. But Imma let it slide cause he got to be high on that new father shit to call me an asshole.”

“Nah I just think he don’t respect you. That’s what you get for not raising him. My boys would never.”

“Marcus!”

Shay knew this could devolve again if she didn’t get their attention. “Guys! Do you want to meet her?”

The men focused their attention on the baby Shay was holding against her chest. Marcus visibly melted at the sight, Mike simply softening his shoulders with a small smile. 

Armando joined Shay, leaning on the bed using a finger to trace down their daughter’s arm. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on his daughter. “This is Amada Rose Lowrey.”

“Lowrey?”Mike coughed.

Armando shrugged. “I wasn’t actually an Aretas, I was supposed to be a Lowrey. Figured she and I could claim our real family name.”

Mike nodded. “That’s cool man. Real cool,” he choked out.

“Awe Mike,” Marcus cried.

“Mm-mm Marcus. Stop it right now.”

“But Mike he’s taking your last name!”

Ignoring his bumbling partner, Mike walks over to Shay, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “How you doing Mama?”

“Extremely sore, but happy.”

“Well you did good, she’s beautiful.”

“You wanna hold her?”

Knowing his father’s aversion to holding babies, he goads hims, “Yeah Papa, wanna hold her?”

Surprising them all, he said, “You know what? I will.”

Shay handed her daughter over to Mike, making sure he supported her head correctly.

Armando joined Shay on the bed and wrapped her in his arms now that she wasn’t holding the baby. He simply watched his father holding and whispering to his baby girl with fond eyes, knowing his daughter would know nothing but love and presence from the man. They would have a real relationship right from the start. He and Mike themselves had been working on things, talking through the lies and anger and getting to a better place.

“How’s work? They give you any time off?” Marcus asked him.

In the end there hadn’t been a choice. He was going to be present in his child’s life, no matter what and sneaking into LA would just get riskier every time he did it. If he didn’t get caught just trying to get to his family, he would’ve gotten caught because if how much he would’ve been there to see them. And he’d be damned if he was raising his child from behind bars so he took Agent Garrett up on her offer.

He turned to face his uncle, replying, “Good, we wrapped a case a day before Shay went into labor. I’ll have about a couple weeks at home with the girls before I’m expected back.” 

It had somewhat surprised him how seriously Marcus had taken to being his uncle. The man was supportive of his new role with the LAPD and called almost as often as his father did, checking in and making sure he was being safe. Seeing him at the hospital now wasn’t a shock at all.

“I’m just glad they gave him any time at all,” Shay interrupted. As his employment with the LAPD wasn’t under normal circumstances, he wasn’t sure if they’d grant him time at home with his girls. Agent Garrett had stuck her neck out for him once again and gotten him twelve days exactly.

Armando leaned down and kissed her, forever grateful for the woman who stood by his side despite his past. She had lost a couple friends when they found out who he was, the ones that stayed had definitely judged her and never truly came around to him as a person. She never wavered though, taking it all with grace and holding his hand as they planed for their future. He couldn’t wait to ask her to marry him.

Amada let out a cry, disrupting his internal debate on the pros and cons of asking her right that moment. He knew it probably meant she was hungry again, so he shifted his hold on Shay so she could get the b baby again and feed her.

“I think that’s a cry for mommy,” Mike chimed as he passed the baby back.

“Yeah Mike you ain’t got the right equipment,” Marcus tossed out.

Mike turned to Marcus incredulously. “Now why would you say some dumb shit like that?”

“You don’t!”

Armando turned his attention from the bickering men, whispering to his little family, “Here they go.”

Honestly, though? He wouldn’t trade his family for nothing.

A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment or reblog/like! What did we think? I have a few other ideas in mind for Armando but I'm not sure how they'll play out, so I'm CAUTIOUSLY open to prompt from you guys for drabbles. Please keep in mind that I can't do smut.😅

Translations:

Una Puta - A bitch

Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado? - If you had known, would you have cared?

Nada me hubiera importado más. -Nothing would have mattered to me more.

Pendejos - Assholes

Taglist:

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[chiyuuchu]

Swap of Hearts <3 (30th July 2024)

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Prompt! The nonchalant boy and bubbly girl get hit with a personality swap quirk. The class realise that no matter whose personality was who’s, the two are bound to end up together anyways.

Y/N had always been the beacon of sunshine in Class 1-A. Her bubbly personality and unwavering optimism were infectious, and she had a particular soft spot for Todoroki Shoto. Despite his stoic demeanor and cold exterior, Y/N never gave up on trying to court him. She would bring him his favorite gifts—warm drinks on cold days, cool snacks during hot training sessions, and thoughtful little trinkets that she knew would make him smile, even if he rarely showed it.

Todoroki, for his part, appreciated her efforts more than he let on. Her presence brought warmth to his life, but his reserved nature often made him seem closed off. He would acknowledge her gifts with a nod or a quiet "thank you," but never much more.

One day, during a patrol, an unexpected twist of fate occurred. A quirk user from a villain accidentally activated a personality swap quirk, hitting both Y/N and Todoroki. In an instant, their personalities were swapped.

The next day at school, Aizawa had already informed the class of the news and everyone was indeed shocked.

"Y/N," Uraraka asked cautiously, "are you okay?"

Y/N, now with Todoroki's reserved demeanor, nodded slowly. "I'm fine," she replied, her voice measured and calm. "Just... different."

Right on time, Todoroki bursts in the room with a cheerful smile holding a bouquet. Each step was like a mini skip.

Todoroki, on the other hand, was almost unrecognizable. He approached Y/N with a bright smile, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Y/N, these are for you. I hope you like them."

"Whoa," Kaminari exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Did that just happen?”

The class watched in amazement as the bubbly Y/N transformed into a stoic and cold version of herself, while Todoroki suddenly became talkative and open.

The class was stunned. "Is this real life?" Kirishima muttered, rubbing his eyes.

As days passed, the swapped personalities became the new normal. Todoroki, with Y/N's bubbly personality, went out of his way to impress her. He would bring her flowers, write her notes, and openly express his admiration. "You light up my world, Y/N," he would say, his eyes sparkling with genuine emotion.

Y/N, though cold and reserved, couldn't hide her shy acknowledgment of Todoroki's efforts. She would accept his gifts with a quiet "thank you" and a small, almost imperceptible smile. The class, initially bewildered, began to embrace the new dynamic, even if it was a bit disorienting.

"Who knew Todoroki could be so charming?" Mina giggled, watching him present Y/N with a handcrafted bracelet.

"And who knew Y/N could be so... cool?" Jiro added, shaking her head in disbelief.

Despite the swapped personalities, it was clear to everyone that the feelings between Y/N and Todoroki were genuine. The class groaned collectively, realizing that no matter whose personality was whose, the two were destined to end up together.

"It's like watching a romance movie in reverse," Sero commented. "But it's still a romance."

After several days, the effects of the personality swap quirk began to wear off. Y/N and Todoroki reverted to their original selves, but with one major complication: they had no memory of what had happened during the swap.

"Wait, what do you mean we swapped personalities?" Y/N asked, her eyes wide with confusion.

"You don't remember?" Midoriya asked, exasperated. "You two were practically inseparable!"

Todoroki looked equally puzzled. "I don't recall any of that."

The class groaned in unison, frustrated by the progress of their romance seemingly resetting to square one.

"Great," Kaminari sighed. "We're back to where we started."

Despite the setback, Y/N quickly resumed her bubbly pursuit of Todoroki, bringing him his favorite gifts and showering him with affection. Todoroki, back to his stoic self, acknowledged her efforts with quiet gratitude.

As the class watched their interactions, they couldn't help but reminisce about the swapped personalities. "It was fun while it lasted," Mina said wistfully. "But I guess this is just how they are meant to be."

"Yeah," Kirishima agreed. "Their love story will end up the same, no matter what."

In the end, the class accepted that some things were inevitable. Y/N's boundless optimism and Todoroki's reserved nature created a unique dynamic that, despite the ups and downs, would ultimately lead to the same conclusion: a love that was unwavering and true.

And so, as Y/N continued to brighten Todoroki's days with her warmth, and Todoroki silently cherished every moment with her, the class couldn't help but smile. Their love story, filled with quirks and complications, was a testament to the fact that some bonds were meant to withstand anything—even a swap of hearts.

[steviewashere]

Better Together

Rating: General CW: None for this one! Tags: Post-Canon, Fluff, Comfort No Hurt, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Baking, Steve Harrington Likes to Bake, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Sharing Food, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Soft Steve Harrington, Soft Eddie Munson

For @steddie-week | July 7th Prompt: Free Space | WC: 870

Hehe, I want to say that I chose the word "heart" as my inspiration, but I saw a recipe for heart shaped thumbprint cookies on Pinterest and this is what came to mind <3

Title from "Better Together" by Jack Johnson

🍪—————🍪 Steve makes thumbprint cookies for every holiday he can think to. Halloween gets some with black currant jam, Independence Day gets blueberry, Christmas has cranberry, orange marmalade for Thanksgiving. So on and so forth. He learned to bake because of his nana, may she rest, and he wants to continue to share her love with the world.

So, he expands from holidays. He makes them for first days of school. When a neighbor of his breaks their leg. Bakes them for a little girl around the block, tells her she can sell them with her lemonade—he even buys a little paper cup; it’s not the greatest lemonade, too much water, but he still smacks his lips and says it’s the best cup in the world. He bakes them for Robin when she can’t sleep from nightmares; for the party when it comes to D&D campaigns; for himself when it’s the middle of the night and he misses what home used to be like—loud and full and warm.

And he makes them, too, when he starts dating Eddie sometime after Vecna. Eddie’s had some cookies; been there in the kitchen, the dining room, outside even. Been there to see if they’re “poisoned.” Shown up, without notice, holding a jar of homemade raspberry jelly from his kitchen, claiming it to be his mama’s recipe.

Over time, he realizes he wants to share this recipe of his with Eddie, too. Though, Eddie’s kind of a mess in the kitchen—he’s not a terrible cook, not at all, but he’s very…all over the place. Sometimes dishes will sit for too long in the sink, or he won’t set a timer within the first two minutes, or he’ll accidentally chop too much of an herb. He gets distracted and it’s honestly endearing, but Steve doesn’t trust him to bake, not completely.

While he’s making cookies for them for Valentine’s Day, the idea smacks him right in the face. He’s got the dough all rolled into balls, placed on sprayed parchment paper, oven preheated. Ready to go.

He wipes his hands on a nearby dish rag. Calls from the kitchen, “Eddie?” And he’s there beside Steve within the blink of an eye; his eyes darting between the tray of cookies and Steve himself, probably two seconds away from attempting to eat raw cookie dough—again. “Wanna help me with something?” Steve asks finally.

“Uh, sure, Stevie. You need me to grab an ingredient from the pantry? Make sure no flies get on the dough?”

Steve shakes his head. Knows that if he leaves him alone with the tray, the cookies won’t even have the chance to be baked. So, he looks on and smiles at Eddie fondly for: being so thoughtful and also because there’s a stray strand of hair curling from his hairline. His hair is up and out of his face, there are indents around his eyes from wearing his magnifying goggles, little splotches of mini-figure paint on his fingers. It’s sweet. Domestic, if he stops to think about it.

He leans into that. Swipes away that strand of hair. Scoops up Eddie’s hands. The warmth and weight welcoming in his own palms.

“Wash up with me and then help me thumbprint the cookies?”

Instead of words, Eddie drifts over to the sink. They wash their hands one after the other. Eddie scrubs furiously at his skin, making sure that every last little flake of paint swirls down the drain, and then he sidles up to Steve. Looks cowed at the still raw dough.

“M’kay,” Steve murmurs, “so for Valentine’s Day, I do things a little different.” He grabs Eddie’s left hand, from where it’s resting limp on the countertop, and hovers it over the baking sheet. Then, he takes his right hand and does the same, just underneath Eddie’s. Presses that thumb into the top of one cookie. “You see how my thumbprint is sort of sideways?”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Yeah, I see that.” Steve quickly glances up, another surge of fondness working through him. Eddie’s face is one of pure concentration: eyebrows furrowed, eyes squinted, tongue poking from between his lips. 

Steve makes himself look back at the cookies before he does something stupid like propose.

He carefully lowers Eddie’s hand until he can press his thumb on the other side of the cookie. When he draws the hand away, he comments, “There. Now, our thumbs are making a heart on the cookie.” Tilts the baking pan a little so that it’s angled towards Eddie. “See? I do that to all of my Valentine’s Day cookies. Except, now I have somebody to do it with.”

Eddie looks up to him. Eyes crinkled in the corners and a soft, adoring smile on his face. “You do your half and then I’ll chase after?”

He smiles back, teeth and all. “I’d love that, Eds. Then, when we’re done, you can pick the jam we use.”

At the end of the day, Steve made two dozen thumbprint cookies. Each of them filled with Eddie’s homemade raspberry jam. Most importantly, though, each of them are—

“Shaped with our love,” Eddie points out.

And that sounds like the sweetest treat of them all.

🍪—————🍪

[oneforthemunny]

gone fishin' |dad!rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: doing my own prompt again from #munnysummergame. domestic fluff with dad!rockstar!eddie :)

🐙- domestic blurb!! any of the dad!eddie’s take their kids to stay with wayne for a mini vacation (or staycation if they’re in hawkins). I love grandpa!wayne and dad!eddie make my ovaries cry.

contains: fluff lol. that's it no warnings just sweet dad!rockstar!eddie and grandpa wayne :)

"I mean... if you want to." Eddie's grimacing face says it all, eyes darting from his uncle back to his youngest.

Vega bounced on the tips of her toes, a grinning, bubbling ball of energy, ecstatic to be back with Grandpa Wayne. The summer trip back to Hawkins, before spending the remainder of July in the Hamptons, was annual for the Munson family. Wayne traveled to you when he could, but in his older age you wanted to make it easier on him, more accommodating; the opposite of keeping baby Vega.

At four years old, she was...energetic, and that was generous. Eddie had invested in a leash after her dash down Rodeo Drive, the ever chaotic child that kept you all on your toes. While you didn't doubt that Wayne would take care of Vega, you knew he would, you worried, truthfully, if he could.

Wayne lifted a brow. "Well, of course I want to, boy." Wayne gruffed, eyes rolling over Eddie's rigid frame. Even as a grown man, a father, he could tell when he was uneasy about something, read him so easily. "You don't want me to?"

"No," Eddie shook his head. "It's not that. It's just...I mean as long as you feel up to it-"

"I feel fine, Ed." Wayne rolled his eyes with a huff.

"Yeah, Ed." Vega parroted with a far greater attitude than she should at four. You blamed Persephone, Vega was observant- copying the seventeen year old's every move.

"Vega Jo," Eddie glared at her, a stern warning glare that had her giggling, hanging on Wayne's leg, laughing maniacally at his expense. Not quite the reaction he was hoping for, only praying that the name didn't stick. Not the way 'mother fucker' had- the drop off line at the elementary school is brutal, ok?

Wayne pressed his lips together to fight back a smile. "You go on. Go to Mike's party, and I'll take care of this one." Wayne petted Vega's unruly curls, already puffing and frizzing in the Hawkins' humidity.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asked again.

Wayne huffed in annoyance. "We're goin' fishing', Miss Vega. Tell you Daddy and Mama bye." Wayne glared at Eddie lightly, pushing off the wall to head towards the garage.

"What's going on?" You emerged down the hall, lipstick in hand. "Where's Vega going?"

"Grandpa's taking me fishing!" Vega cheered excitedly, a wide toothy grin dazzling up at you.

"Is he?" You asked, brows raised and voice lilting to that high octave you fell into when you baby talked. "That sounds like so much fun, baby. Is it just you and Grandpa?"

"Yes." Vega lisped, swinging her arms back and forth by her side. "Jus' me and Grandpa. Not you, or Sicily, or Sephy, or-or Ed." She giggled wickedly.

You hid your face to hide your smile. Fuck, kids were funny sometimes. It was hard not to snicker at Vega every now and then, especially at Eddie's expense. Sicily and Sienna didn't hold the same courtesy, doubling over each other in the hallway. Eddie glared at them, turning back to Vega.

"You better stop that, Vega. Or you're not going anywhere. I'll make you come with me." Eddie pointed at her in warning.

You watched it unfold in slow motion, the same scenario. Vega's little grin melting into a sweet smile, swaying until she scampered and hugged Eddie's legs tightly.

"I jus' kiddin', Daddy." Vega grinned, chin resting against his knee to look up at him with a sweet look. She patted his calve with childlike gentleness, the final nail in his own coffin.

You could practically see Eddie melting before your eyes, reaching down to hoist her on his hip. You hid your eye roll, shaking your head lightly. Your heart swelled nonetheless. How was this the same man you met nearly twenty years ago? The same rough and mean and nasty man, who now could be so gentle, not just with you and the girls, but with himself.

Eddie gave her an exaggerated mean look. "You better be kidding, Vega Jo. Better be good for Grandpa Wayne."

"Yes," You nodded, your hand rubbing over the cotton material of her little shirt. "Look at Mommy, baby. You have to be very, very good for Grandpa, ok? Listen to him and no running, Vega. That's not a funny game at all."

"I won't." Vega sighed heavy, like she was bored of the conversation.

"Vega, I'm being serious. You gotta stay close to Grandpa. Do what he says- are you listening to me?" You watched her tip back in a backbend, Eddie's arms holding her in place on his hip. She looked up at you, upside down with a grin.

"I'll be good." Vega repeated. "I'll listen."

"Yeah, right." Kensington muttered, passing the two of you to get to the kitchen.

"Kensie." You grit, eyes cutting to the fifteen year old, so angsty and moody all the time.

"I am good!" Vega growled, scowling at her older sister with a furrowed brow, a scrunched nose- the same expression she got from you. The look on Eddie's face told you that.

"Ok," You held your hands up. "You are very good. Very, very good, and you're gonna have so much fun catching fish with Grandpa, aren't you?"

"I-I'm gonna catch a big fish, like this big Mama." Vega stretched her arms out wide, nearly smacking Eddie's nose in the process.

"Yeah? You gonna bring it home? We can fry it up tonight. Dinner's on you." Eddie teased, tickling her sides so she shrieked.

"Ready to go?" Wayne called, holding a tackle box and two fishing poles- an old, black one and a bright pink one with various Disney Princesses on it.

Vega squirmed out of Eddie's grasp, flip flops smacking against the hardwood of the lake house towards the front door. "Be good, Vega!" You shouted after her, nervously pressing your fingers to your mouth. "I have my phone, Wayne, if you need anything-"

"-I got it, darlin'. You all go have fun. Don't worry 'bout us." Wayne gave you a warm smile, shutting the door with his foot behind him.

You hesitated for a moment, looking over at Eddie carefully. "She'll be good, right? He's got it."

"Vega? No way." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. "But he's got her. He won't let anything happen to her." You frowned, lips jutting in a pout. Eddie sighed heavily. "I'll go check on them after a little bit, ok? In case it gets too much."

***

Eddie wasn't sure if it was the heat or surely someone had slipped something in his drink. He'd felt fine, pressing a kiss to your cheek before excusing himself, climbing in the car to go check on Vega. The best part about Hawkins was everywhere took ten minutes to get to, at most. The lake house was on the outskirts of town, a farther drive, but nothing he couldn't get to quickly.

Eddie didn't hear shrieking or crying or cackling, only hearing the eerily quiet sound of the breeze through the trees and the water rippling. His heart lurched, heavy steps pounding towards the back yard. The lawn that backed up into the lake, the bank meeting the soft grass where he saw them; Vega and Wayne, sitting in their own little chairs.

Vega was calmly sitting there, watching the bobber in the water, her own little pole slipping while she chatted with Wayne softly.

"...You don't like them Webkinz anymore? They not doin' it for ya?" Wayne asked gently, reeling in his line.

"No. I don't-I don't really like them anymore, because I like to play on the Wii. Me and Zarah play Just Dance a lot, but she alwaaayyys beats me." Vega sighed heavily, shoulders deflating. "She's so good at it. She can hit all the moves."

Wayne snorted lightly. "Yeah? You'll get there soon, Vega. She's a lot older than you, bigger. She's got more coordination."

Vega paused, nose scrunching when she looked over at Wayne. "What's coorginmasion?" She stuttered out the word with a grimace.

Wayne laughed. "Coordination. Means you can move quick. You'll get there. You're still little bitty. Got lots more growin' to do."

"Daddy tells me that too." Vega hummed. "He's really tall. Got lotsa co-or-di-nation." She sounded it out slowly, in between deep breaths that had Eddie grinning.

Wayne grinned. "Yeah? You'd think he would. Your Daddy can be a little clumsy sometimes."

Vega giggled loudly, nearly dropping her pole. "Yeah..." She sighed, far too heavy to be four. She'd definitely heard that from you or Eddie.

"Catch any big ones yet?" Eddie asked with a grin, arms crossed over his chest when he stepped forward.

Vega perked, curls whipping her face. "Daddy! You sneaked!" She giggled, swinging her pole around, ripping it through the water to point at him accusingly.

"Easy, Vega, easy. Gotta be gentle. Scarin' all the fishies, baby." Wayne cooed calmly, maneuvering his own pole away. "What're you doin' here, boy?"

"Just came to check on you. Make sure everything was alright." Eddie hummed. "Catch anything yet, Vegie?"

"No." Vega pouted, shaking her head. "No big ones. Grandpa said they're probably in the middle of the lake 'cause that's where all the sunshine is."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned in amusement. "He's probably right."

Eddie sat down on the cool grass next to them, under the shaded trees, a hand on Vega's back to steady her on her makeshift chair, a turned over bucket. "Guess no dinner then, huh?"

Wayne huffed at him. Vega shrugged. "Grandpa has honey buns so we're good." She said easily, eyes cutting over to Wayne's, copying the way he slowly reeled his line in.

"Honey buns?" Eddie gasped. "And you didn't share any with me, Grandpa?"

"No. They're just for us." Vega declared.

"That's right." Wayne nodded. "Vega said we should use 'em for bait. The fish might like 'em." He grinned at the younger girl.

Eddie watched in awe as Vega sat peacefully, not fidgeting or bouncing or trying to jump off the bucket. She sat, chatting with Wayne, calmly and slowly, careful with her reeling and casting- well, as careful as a four year old could be.

Eddie felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, a text from you, no doubt. "Well, if you two are good, I'm gonna go back." Eddie hesitated, standing slowly.

"We're alright." Wayne nodded, eyes not leaving the water.

Eddie hesitated, leaning down to press a kiss to Vega's head, before ducking over to Wayne. "Did you... Did you give her something?" Eddie asked quietly. Wayne's head snapped to him in question. "Like to calm her down? I don't care if you did just-"

"Boy, get out of here." Wayne scoffed, shaking his head at Eddie. "We're just having a nice, relaxin' fishin' day, right, Vega?" He glared at Eddie.

"Yes." Vega chirped, tongue poking out in concentration, turning the gears around.

"I got it handled." Wayne nodded. "Handled you for many years, boy, think I can handle this one."

Eddie nodded, raising his hands lightly. "Just call me if you need me." He said, backing away slowly.

"I got it." Wayne huffed. "Get outta here so we can get another honey bun. Let's see if them fishies like it, Vega. Maybe that'll help 'em bite."

Sure enough, Vega was bounding towards the two of you hours later, buzzing with excitement to show you what she caught. A bass in the bucket, swimming in the half filled orange container.

Wayne grinned proudly, patting her back while she rambled and showed off her fish to you, Eddie, and her sisters.

"She caught this?" Eddie asked, lifting a brow carefully.

"With her pink fishin' rod." Wayne laughed. "Caught that damn fish. Wouldn't touch it and didn't want it to die, so we put it in the bucket 'til you got back. She wanted to show ya." He boasted.

"Damn honey bun trick worked. 'Bout to use that one on my next fishin' trip with Roy." Wayne laughed.

[kozumesphone]

╭₊˚ BACKPACKING ACROSS GREECE . . . skye’s 200 followers event ! ⋆⭒˚.⋆

ꕀ intro post here !

ᝰ. TRAVEL GUIDE (masterlist) . . .

~ m.list

~ completed: 7 ~ remaining: 31

REQUESTS CLOSED ‼️

ᝰ. TRAVEL NOTES (a/n) . . .

hello?? what?! I only very recently finished my 50 followers event requests (procrastination struck SO hard), and was planning on doing the 100/150 event, but we already hit 200?? this is so so so amazing 💓 thank you all so much!! i’m eternally grateful for the unwavering support and for hyping me up, from my followers, moots, and especially my closer ibfs! i’m so excited for this event 🌸✨ even specifically, a huuuuge thanks to mori for lending me her intelligence to make a very major chunk of this event possible! thanks for brainstorming ideas w me, ilyyy 🫶 (+ spoilers: my favourite ones are volos, crete, and mykonos 🤭) • also, please comment if you don’t want to be tagged in further posts related to this event / want to be tagged from now on, I won’t mind! but pls lmk your decision soon, bc i’ll be using the same taglist as this post’s for every request related to this event! sorry for any inconvenience <3

ᝰ. ITINERARY (everyone) . . .

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 01. VOLOS ⠀ᰋ

i’ll make you a mini playlist based on the aesthetic of your favourite book/movie + your blog, together

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 02. ARGOS ⠀ᰋ

i’ll write you short headcannons of you on the argo II with the seven, nico, and reyna + give me any specific character you want to see mentioned specially

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 03. ACHARNES ⠀ᰋ

tell me about yourself / give me a short description about you, and i’ll assign you to a pjo cabin, hogwarts house, and hunger games district + make you a moodboard with it

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 04. PATRAS ⠀ᰋ

give me your favourite book/movie universe + favourite character, and i’ll make you a moodboard + mini playlist based on that

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 05. CRETE ⠀ᰋ

(different prompt list from thessaloniki) pick a prompt from here + give me a character name (from any book or anime, preferably, but I can try for movies too) and i’ll write a short oneshot for that character x reader (specify gender of reader please—f/m/gn)

∘₊✧ ────── ✧₊∘

ᝰ. VIP ITINERARY (only moots) . . .

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 01. MYKONOS ⠀ᰋ

tell me about yourself / give me a short description + what you think is your greatest strength, and i’ll tell you what I think your fatal flaw would be

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 02. ATHENS ⠀ᰋ

(only applies if we’re closer moots): give me your cabin from camp half-blood + your best friend from the riordanverse, and i’ll write a few headcannons for you, if you were in chb

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 03. THESSALONIKI ⠀ᰋ

(different prompt list from crete) pick a trope/prompt from here + give me a character name (from any book or anime, preferably, but I can try for movies too) and i’ll write a short oneshot for that character x reader (specify gender of reader please—f/m/gn)

ᝰ. SUPPLIES TO BACKPACK ACROSS THE CITY (rules) . . .

i. i’ll only be able to answer your request if i’m a part of that fandom, so I would suggest checking out my fandoms nav here first

ii. only one request per message

iii. only two requests per day

iv. normal requests (non-event ones) will be closed until event ends

v. please include title of the ask (ex. athens) and the character name & fandom (if applicable). if it’s a description request, send your desc in points (if applicable), so it’s easier to read, for me

ᝰ. TRIP DATES (dates) . . .

starts on | 24th july, wednesday

ends on | 14th august, wednesday

> EVENT OPEN !!

ᝰ. TRAVELLERS (mutuals—taglist) . . .

@serendipitous-girl @anyas-shitposting69 @ziasworld-com @urmomabby @sweetnnaivete

@fizzywashere87 @aezuria @gentlehue @mqstermindswift @percabethlvr

@maybxlle @cinemaconrad @riordanness @book-girl4evaaa @flowers-for-em

@starlitszn @skeelly @lauffey @metyouattherighttime @luvusrry

@ssparksflyy @fayvpor @iheartgirlzn @nomournersonefuneral

@over-the-oceancall @seaglass-and-string @strawberryapologist @xoxochb @auroraofthesun1 @pinkdiorluvr

@sophiesonlinediary @solangelotus @brodieland @waitingonher @nqds

@on-starrii-nights @daydream-of-a-wallflower @catastrxblues @rehlie @d4rkdi0rrr

@seasirengirl @lavisenri @daonedaonlyskh @rxry-lxves-jess @cowboycasanovaaa

@thewhispersofthewaves @writtcnbycassie @55kywalker @ravisinghs-wife @yourtwistedlies

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[poetry-fiction-challenge]

July Challenge Day 25

From Dear

Don't you know each other, don't you live in the air around me,

[tlmtwelve]

"Need a hand?"

Week 5 prompt @summer-of-bad-batch

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Pablo Gavi Masterlist

Fluff = 💖 Angst= 🥺 Suggestive content= 🔥

Series

Not Like Others (Hiatus) 💖🥺🔥

Mini Series

Since Forever (1) (2) (3) 🥺💖

Gender Reveal (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)💖

Prompts

Kissing 1 2 3

One Shots

Take a Break 💖

It's Our Thing 💖

I'll Come With You 🔥💖

Neck Kisses 💖

Mornings By Your Side💖

If I Love You, I'll Show You💖

The White Jersey🥺💖

Supporter 💖

Sister's Best Friend💖 (Venezuelan!Reader)

Prank Gone Wrong 💖🥺

Don't Worry, I've Got You 💖🥺

Nothing's Going On 💖🔥

Protection Bubble 💖

My Smart Girl 💖

Gavi Dating 💖

Clash Of Cultures 💖 (Venezuelan!Reader) (SBF (2))

Heat Of The Moment 💖🥺🔥

Show 💖🔥

Honeymoon Bliss💖🔥

Dancing Under The Rain 💖

It's Okay To Not Be Okay 💖🥺

Never Again💖🥺

Period Problems 💖

Think The Wrong Thing 💖🥺

Help 💖🥺

Your World 💖

Audacity 💖🥺

My Champion 💖🔥

Favorite Body Part 🔥

Pool Day with the Fam 💖

Homesick 💖🥺

Work For It 💖🥺

The (Survivor) Passenger Princess 💖

Una Experta 💖

Tattoo 🔥

Babyboy💖

You Should Have... 💖

Him, Himself and He 🥺

Me and You 💖

Hip Dips (W. Pedri) 💖

Secret's Out 💖🔥

Relationship Changes? 💖

Not So Funny Anymore 💖🥺

Soulmate Thing 💖🔥

In Advance 💖

My Chef 💖

Vacations With Love at First Sight 💖

Food Stains are a Work of Art💖

Book Covers 💖🥺

Who Knows? (Pre-Gender Reveal (11)) 💖

Night Out Problems 💖

Beautiful Either Way

Calendar

Last Updated: July 27th, 2024

[tastescomics]

CW: Lack of consent and unwilling intoxication.

While residing at Cole's apartment during his time of bulking up, Token experiences what it's like when Cole dedicates his full attention to his self proclaimed boyfriend... Now Token is stuck, waking to his assignments that fill him to the brim and to Cole who keeps him on a steady stream of Quinn's products to induce more gains and keep the bold lad complacent.

This is a mini comic that was voted for in July '23 by my patrons~ The only prompt I had was TokenXCole so I decided to show some more canon stuff that I never got to add into the main comic. This would have been during the weeks when Token was staying at Cole's for the month. So after Chapter Five but right before Six.

[wolfstarmicrofic]

July

Happy July, everyone! Stretch your creative muscle and write something new. This month's them is, generally, "tags."

Pick a word, get inspired, write a fic, and don’t forget to Keep it Mini! Tag us, and we’ll reblog it for you.

Check out our Rules and FAQ for more information. Still need last month’s prompts? You can find them here. Got an idea for a theme? Send us an ask!

Love from your Wolfstar obsessed mods! 🐺⭐️