#moony's writing

[moonyasnow]

Sleeping Beauty's Tentative Prince.

PROMPT : They kiss you in your sleep

CHARACTERS : Ace, Jack, Malleus, Sebek

CONTENT : fluff and angst, pre-relationship, they are PI-NING, the fae have…strange priorities. or maybe it's just Lilia in particular(Malleus' part), internalized racism (Sebek's part)

—

I do NOT condone doing this in real life to someone who hasn't consented. But this is fiction so fuck it we ball

While you were awake, he could not show the affection to you that he wished he could, caught up in his own fears it might not be reciprocated and could strain your current relationship.

But in sleep, you would never know. In sleep, he could more easily deliberate upon his fondness for you, as much confusion, anxiety, fear, hope and longing as they brought him.

Ace

Ace Trappola portrayed himself as a 'coaster extraordinaire', gliding only where turf is smooth, dancing through life without a care in the world for anything besides goofing off with his friends. Stuff like 'love' and 'romance' wasn't on his radar, deciding he'd rather steer clear of it after an experience dating in middle school that left him feeling so utterly...bored, not really there, as having to live up to some ideal decided by his partner. Was that what all those books and songs and movies was hyping up? He felt lied to! It wasn't fun, and he couldn't understand how his now ex-girlfriend, or anyone else for that matter, really thought of any of that stuff as desirable!

The 'ghost bride', Eliza, was really just a personification of everything that made him want to steer clear of it. After she finally decided to shuffle off this mortal coil for good, along with her equally ghost— to Idia's utter relief— husband, too tired from all that fighting to really feel like it was worth it, he decided he'd rather crash at Ramshackle than walk all the way back to Heartlsabyul.

You declared you'd make it a sleepover, which was why he was laying in a sleeping bag on the musty living room floor of the ancient, decrepit house, creaking and groaning from the wind and its own whims. You laid next to him, on a mattress(unfair of you not to bring a second, by the way), sound asleep. He was kinda envious of you in that moment, you know?

Despite how dead tired he was after not only all the battle stuff but cleaning up the cafeteria on top of it, sleep just wouldn't bless him with its embrace. And desptire how much he didn't want to, especially not after all the other first-years— including Deuce, the bastard— made fun of him for the thought he'd already put into it...he found the topic of 'love' spinning around his head again.

He sure as hell didn't want the kind that Eliza'd idealized it to be. The others claimed that he, out of all the other suitors, did at least seem to know what he wanted. "...someone you can laugh with, and cry with...someone who'll stick with you through all the hard times..." He felt flustered and like an idiot recalling he'd said that for the entire room to hear, even more so due to the fact they'd caught on he was actually being genuine.

Then for some inexplicable reason he got an urge to turn his head to look at you. You looked about as tired as he felt. By that meaning you looked terrible. Or so he'd say if you were asking him why he was staring. Why was he staring? Probably because he was concerned. Just a little bit. Crowley already threw enough shit your way on the regular anyway, now you have to deal with this, too. And he never understood why you still tried so hard.

You, while not even having magic, had still given it your all during those battles, throwing rocks and twigs and even a goddamn wall-mounted candlestick— or well, that used to be wall-mounted, though apparently not as well as anyone thought they were if you could just pull it off the wall— at the ghosts. It phased right through them, obviously, but it'd annoyed and distracted them enough to make his and the others' job a whole lot easier. It was long past time for him to take back everything he said about you the first day you met by the school's Main Street.

You really had become an all-in-one janitor, photographer, therapist, and law-enforcer in one in the time you'd been here. It really wasn't fair. But you'd once told him it was easier since you had him and the rest of the braincell squad around. And he had to admit, it was the same for him. When it came to you in particular. Sure, he liked Deuce, and maybe Grim too just a little bit, but having you there was...special. He's not sure how he would've dealt with the incident at that one absolutely horrible unbirthday party and his Housewarden's total freak-out if you weren't there...or if, before it, he'd have had to spend the night in Ramshackle all alone with just the ghosts for company.

His eyes widened. Wait... He started to feel warm from top to bottom. He didn't mean it like— you weren't— y-you were just buds! You know? Friends. Just friends. And then he wanted to strangle someone when he realized those words tasted bitter in his mouth. Getting up on his elbow and looking at your sleeping face he couldn't place every thought whirring through his head. He thought you were kinda pretty or whatever, sure, but it's not weird to think your friend is pretty! And maybe...

No. Try as he might, every new excuse he came up with for why that couldn't be the case was just that; an excuse. He liked you. As more than just a friend. Maybe he kept trying to deny it because of how different this felt to his middle-school girlfriend. He thought she was cute and all, but he felt so alone when he was with her. Like she was seeing some boyfriend-shaped cut-out in place of him. He never felt alone when he was with you. And he sure as hell would never take a whole day's worth of public transport to school on a break for anyone else.

But it's not like he was planning for this. It felt strange, the way you went from 'best friend' to 'best friend I wanna be with' in his mind. Because, those categories weren't supposed to intersect, were they? Or could they? It just felt weird.

…But when he got past his initial shock, he realized that, thinking of you that way felt…natural. It was strange. Strange that it wasn't something he had to psyche himself up for. Maybe he was more like Eliza than he initially realized, in that way. Not noticing that kind of love when it was right in front of him. Maybe he'd also gotten caught up in that idealization of love, never realizing before that love actually could be with someone like that…someone he cherished like a best friend.

Laying down again and turning his whole body to face you properly, he stared at you. You really were pretty. Not in that way where you see someone and can just tell whether they're pretty or not. Not in the attraction kinda way either. Well, there might have been a little bit of that too. But mostly, there was just something...special, about you.

About your face, and your eyes, hair, shoulders, nose, chin, neck, hands and just— everything. Just looking at you made him feel warm. It usually did. But especially in that moment. It was weird, how just thinking those things seemed to jump-start his heart like some old motor, because now it was racing in the night. He found himself leaning closer, until his breath fanned at your lips. Looking at you from such a close proximity was weird. Sure, he might wrap an arm around or lean it on your shoulder pretty often, and do things like flick your forehead or your nose to see you pouting at him, but you'd never really been this close before. The tips of your noses were touching.

He was planning on moving away. He really was. But then you shifted in your sleep and your lips brushed softly against his.

As quickly as he could, he almost leapt backwards and turned his back to you and hoped to the Seven you didn't realize. Not then, not the next morning— not ever.

He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, and calm his racing heartbeat.

Sadly for him, he laid awake all night thinking about it and didn't get a lick of sleep.

He kinda hoped he could do it again one day. With you awake this time, of course. Yeah...with you, it might not be so bad. The Underworld would freeze over before he ever told you that though. Well, that was hyperbole. He just wanted to make sure you wouldn't like���laugh at him for it, or something.

…Maybe accidents weren't so bad sometimes.

Jack

Having grown up knowing that his parents, his grandparents, and most likely their parents and grandparents too, were mated for life— that they found each other and that was it— Jack Howl had always been sure that's how it would go for him too. That when he found 'the one' everything would be easy, and make sense instantly. And when he started to feel a strange new pressure in his chest around you, a desire to protect you more than even his other friends, he was sure that this was it. Yet something happened which he hadn't considered.

The person he fell for wasn't another wolf beastperson, nor any other kind of beastperson or mer who mated for life. You were human. And humans very much did not mate for life, as much as some might claim they would like to. For the first time he started to feel a bit of doubt about his future life plan. He was sure you were 'the one' for him… But now he had to start to contest with the fact that, he might not be 'the one' in your eyes.

So, he thought…he would try to court you in some way. Make it clear he could be a good partner for you.

During the second night at Vargas' training camp, when Grim hadn't returned from going to get blankets with the others, you had become so worried that you tried to run off to go looking for him. And Jack felt like he had no choice but to go with you; he would never risk you running into the shadow while alone. It definitely wasn't the smartest decision, and he had tried to stop you. But you had argued against him, insisting you wouldn't just leave Grim behind, no matter how much danger it put you in. That was something he had always respected about you; you always looked out for those in you pack. And he agreed to go with; he'd do the same for you— and then some— if you went missing, after all. But an hour of walking later, and you both realized that…you were lost. Now, not only was Grim gone, but those who remained at camp would think you both were gone, too.

You two had been walking for hours searching for the way back to no avail, when you had given up, swaying on your feet, saying you couldn't take another step. His eyes shot up in surprise, having been too caught up in getting you both back to camp to consider you didn't have anywhere near his levels of stamina, his ears flattening against his head with both guilt and a bit of embarrassment— guilt at not having realized you couldn't keep up, and embarrassment at not remembering the way back well enough. More like shame, really. He felt sure camp was the safest place for both of you right now, yet in his haste to follow you to make sure nothing jumped out at you, he'd neglected to keep good enough track of the scents around you both to be able to lead the way back. That wasn't how a good partner was supposed to behave! He was supposed to be able to make sure you were safe.

You were the one to suggest, with the night being so cold, that you sleep close to one another. He balked at the suggestion once it left your mouth, trying to hide the furious blush he knew would overtake his face if he let it— letting you see him like that would be way too embarrassing to consider; he was supposed to be cool! So you'd know he could protect you! Not act like some lovesi— o-overly affectionate— puppy! But when you reasoned that it was to conserve heat, to make sure neither of you ever became cold enough for it to be truly dangerous, he had no argument against it, and so was forced to go along with it. He didn't want you to freeze, after all. And no, don't misunderstand him! His tail did NOT just start wagging! And if it did, i-it was just nerves! N-not at being close to you— the shadow! NOT TO SAY HE COULDN'T TAKE ON THE SHADOW IF IT APPEARED—

He had to force himself to keep quiet, lest he put his foot in his mouth again.

He'd assumed you would just be sleeping next to each other. So when you slotted yourself right in his arms, your head on his chest, he froze in place, begging for dear life that you weren't hearing the way his heart was now racing. No matter if you did or not, you soon fell asleep. But Jack, like a protective guard dog (a comparison he didn't like but couldn't exactly deny at this moment) stayed awake for a while longer to make sure the area was truly safe, leading to him becoming lost in his thoughts.

He was confused why you were here at all. You weren't even part of a sports club! Or any club at all, for that matter; running errands for Crowley ate up too much of your time for you to be able to join one. But you were still here. You had claimed it was better than spending that time in school figuring out a way for a magicless student to succeed in magic assignments, Grim not often being fond of cooperating if there was no tuna involved, much to your frequent frustration. But it still really didn't sit right with him that you got caught up in all this when you were only meant to be there to take pictures. He thought Crowley should definitely compensate you for this, since you got caught in danger due to him making you go along with them. But by now he'd wised up enough to realize that was never going to happen. The thought began to really get on his nerves.

It was insane, how Crowley treated you like some slave with no mind or will of your own. Even worse, a disposable one he kept throwing at problems— dangerous problems...he still wasn't over how close you'd come to being seriously injured in the fight at the Mostro Lounge— that should have been CROWLEY'S job to handle. He almost began to growl just thinking about it. The mere thought of you, his m— friend...his good...friend...being hurt in the slightest scared him. Enough that his arms unconsciously tightened around you. The scent of your hair, a reminder you were currently not in danger, put him at ease. He exhaled in silent relief.

…If…

After you both graduate, if he asked you to come with him back to his home in the Shaftlands, what would you say? He'd be able to keep you safe. Make sure you never had to live like this again. What with your status as not being from this world and thus having no legal identifying paperwork, getting a job would probably be hard for you. So he'd get a job and support both you and him. And Grim, of course— if Grim was your pack, he was Jack's, too. He was already sure his family would love you, and welcome you with open arms. And then one day down the line he'd—

He couldn't bring himself to finish his thought, face having grown far too red. But his tail wouldn't stop wagging. He might have thought of it before, but that was when you weren't literally sleeping in his arms. You being so close just...made everything feel too real.

He took a deep breath to clear his mind. What mattered right now was that he would keep you safe. Take care of you. Now…and hopefully, you'd allow him to do the same in the future.

But the fuzzy, excited feelings brought on by the thought he didn't finish didn't leave him, them and your scent lulling him further into a comfortable sleepiness. So close to sleep and overflowing with affection, he didn't even notice, let alone have the sense to stop himself, from placing a kiss to your forehead, snuggling up closer to you to make sure you kept warm, unconsciously smiling against the top of your head as he, too, was claimed by sleep.

It just felt so...right, to hold you.

…The next morning you were confused by why he refused to look you in the eye.

Malleus

Malleus Draconia, crown prince and heir to the fae Kingdom of Briar Valley, was used to spending his time alone. Used to having only his guards and mentor for company. Used to spending hours wandering through empty stone hallways and rigorously up-kept gardens where none but he, his beloved gargoyles, and the occasional critter dared wander.

Perhaps that was because of him.

Though he came to Night Raven College to 'broaden his horizons', after the first few months or so of classes in which he was left to work alone even on group projects, smelling the fear of his peers in the air, he had all but given up on finding an actual friend. Someone who would stay by his side not out of duty or necessity, but purely out of desire to.

The way you haphazardly seemed to stumble into his life and make a home for yourself in his hollow ruin of solitude had still not caught up with him, even months later.

It was late in the evening, the old decrepit clock in Ramshackle had just struck 12. You were on the couch, leaning against him, asleep on his shoulder as he read a book. Or at least, he had been trying to. For all of five minutes. The soft pressure of your body leaning against his arm had made him lose all focus for anything not related to you. So here he was, staring like a fool at your sleeping figure.

That you, so small and fragile compared to him, were not afraid of the dragon by your side— the horned beast with power enough to destroy most of the school with less than a snap of his fingers— never ceased to amaze him. Yet it was on nights like these, when you were too tired to go for your usual evening walk with him yet still wanted him near, that left him most awestruck. Not only did you say, with your own words, that you wished to be by his side despite your lack of energy…you trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence. Leaning against his shoulder, no less. It intoxicated his heart with pride, peace and longing in equal measure.

Yet, it only occurred to him the first time it happened that he had never seen another's sleeping face before. At least, not with their knowledge. He had seen you resting through your window on his late-night strolls before. Yet this was different. You allowed him this. If he did not already think you were the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever bore witness to, he did once he saw the gentle, peaceful expression on your face so close. He couldn't help but liken you to the sleeping princess in the old story of the Thorn Witch from his homeland. Sleeping so peacefully…all whilst leaning against a dragon.

His heart ached with feelings he had no words for as he stared at your face, streaked with moonlight, book long since forgotten. Cupping your cheek, he cursed the leather gloves keeping him from truly feeling your skin. In the back of his mind he harbored a fear he dare not put into words: that were he to feel your skin against his, it would be a point of no return, and he would never be able to go without it again. A curse to one such as him, who— his logic was much too aware for his liking— would be forced to grow accustomed to losing the touch of all things in time.

Yet his emotions, not bound by logic of any kind, wondered if you would like that. If him discarding his inhibitions and letting his gloveless hands roam every inch of your body would delight you the same way the mere thought did him. One part of him told him that 'yes, you would'; he was the fae prince, one of the most talented mages alive. He could keep you safe, give you anything you could ever desire. Yet another part of him said 'perhaps not' with barely any hesitation. He was a dragon, feared by man and fae alike for his power which could wipe out whole nations, should he desire to. The conflicting answers left him with a confusing sense of whiplash, not knowing which to trust. Yet, since you were not, unlike many, afraid of him, he found himself hoping your answer would fall more in line with the former…

Heart filled with trepidation and yearning in conflict with one another, he searched his mind for that always comforting anchor of knowledge that was Lilia's words. All that came to mind regarding the matter of kisses was that 'it was not to be done once the sun had set', which to him was good enough reason to force himself to abstain. Or at least, so he'd hoped. He wished to listen to his mentor's words, clung to them when his own young mind felt overcome with what he wished to do instead of what he ought to do…yet found he could not. At least, not fully.

Holding your warm hand in his which was cold beneath his gloves, the heat still slowly seeping from yours to his, yours appeared so small. As Malleus resisted the urge to rub his nose against yours, he felt his pulse beat in his throat. A metaphorical fire lit in the candle of his heart, flaring higher as he slowly neared your lips.

At the last second he managed to force himself to place his gloved hand gently over your mouth, placing a light, chaste kiss to the back of it.

He yearned to traverse further, to not have this self-imposed barrier in his way, to truly know if your lips were as soft as he imagined them to be, if they tasted as sweet. It was difficult to draw a line for himself. But, despite pouting through it, he still did. Once more recalling Lilia's words of wisdom: it would be impolite to steal your first kiss— or at least, so Malleus assumed it was— without your knowledge, after all.

After that he made up his mind to keep himself in check. That was enough for tonight, he thought and tried to return to his book. But his thoughts never stopped drifting to you.

It equally unsettled and enthralled him.

Sebek

The son of a human father and a fae mother— a fae mother who went entirely against the norms and expectations of her people and culture to marry a human man, a man whose people had hurt hers, and whose union with her had barely been accepted, much less understood— to say that Sebek Ziegvolt feels many conflicting emotions interacting with humans would be an understatement.

He, having seen the scorn his parents' union brought his mother, had vowed as a young child that he would 'never be stupid enough to choose to marry a human'. For he, at his young age, fully believed it was something he had control over. And he still did well into his teens, Lilia's explanation that love cared not for what people had decided, while he admired, revered and respected the older fae greatly, was still not quite enough to persuade him that there could ever be a possibility of him, Sebek Ziegvolt, proud knight of the Lord Malleus Draconia, deigning to fall for a mere human. He couldn’t understand the appeal in any way, shape or form. Human were weak. Fae— he— were strong.

What use had the strong for the weak?

But when you saw him freezing in the cold winter air, you wrapped your scarf around him. He, predictably, began to chastise you, claiming through a runny nose that as a human you were weaker than he and that he could handle this cold, and would not lose to mere weather— which was evidently not the case, as his own words were cut off by a big sneeze, to which you simply laughed. What nerve you had, he thought, for you, a mere human, to laugh at him, Sebek Ziegvolt. To laugh at his weakness! But his thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when you removed the hand covering your mouth and he saw your smile. It was...dazzling. A depiction of beauty which he had only heard described before.

In his daze he almost missed you taking a napkin out of your pocket and wiping away the mess under his nose, still smiling at him the same way.

Though he chided you, claiming to not need it, he was powerless to stop the stutter in his heart at your gesture. The tip of your finger grazed his jaw for a fraction of a second as you withdrew your hands, and it haunted his dreams for weeks. And the gentle smile on your face, showing, as far as he knew, nothing but sincere care for him, was enough to make him feel as though he didn't need the scarf at all.

It was...dizzying.

He saw his displays of weakness as just that: weakness, not vulnerability. In his eyes he must not have either to be able to be a good, no, even passable knight to his Young Master! Deep down he knew his Lord Malleus was already strong enough to not really need a knight. But he could never shake the worry it was on him, that he didn't need a knight because Sebek wasn't knightly enough. That was why he worked so hard. His position, with Lord Malleus, in life, had to mean something. Make him mean something.

But you never seemed to care for how he thought of it, showing him small gestures of kindness over and over again. In time he found he had begun to expect those small gestures, despite how he might still had insisted they were unnecessary. That you continued them despite his insistence...warmed him, just like when you lent him your scarf— which he always returned to you each day, knowing you would wrap it around him again the next.

At first he was sure you must have bewitched him, cast some manner of curse upon him— forgetting the fact that you, as magicless, would not be capable of such a feat— for he could find no other logical explanation for what the feeling of full-body lightness and heart-stuttering you brought upon him could be. At least...none he wanted to listen to; none that made sense to him.

You were human.

What he could never let himself be.

And he, the knight of Malleus Draconia, couldn't make the same strange choice as his mother, no matter how highly he respected her.

Yet whether he wished to or not, they'd taken hold of him, struck his heart like lightning, leaving a permanent mark of you on his very being.

It was shortly after that incident that he had, one evening, come to Ramshackle in search of Lord Malleus, and instead found you on one of the Dorm's benches, looking moments away from sleep. For a moment, thoughts of his search for his liege left his mind. When he asked what you were doing out alone this late at night, interrogating you like you'd broken some kind of curfew Ramshackle didn't have, you smiled and said you were waiting for Malleus to go on your usual evening stroll with him. Something about that gave him a sour feeling in his chest. For you or for Lord Malleus, he couldn't say.

Huffing, he said he might as well wait with you. You said nothing at that, just smiled and patted the spot next to you. Reluctantly, he did.

You sat in silence for a while, him trying to ignore the way so many feelings he couldn't figure out the meanings of stung at his chest. He was so caught up in his mind that it was only once he'd finally figured out something to say to you and took a deep breath that he realized his shoulder felt heavier, and he looked over to see you leaning against it, sound asleep. He was about to begin to scold you for falling asleep while waiting for his Young Master! It was bad enough his Lord Malleus had to endure the tardiness of Silver on acount of the latter's propensity for falling into slumber at any given moment! But when he looked at your face again, the words, for once, froze in his throat and fizzled away.

The way your mouth was left slightly agape, leaving a small trail of drool running down your chin, really should have appalled him, been seen as something pathetic, left him feeling distaste of some kind. But when you'd still smiled at him when he had snot running from his nose, how could he?

Maybe it was fine to…let you sleep. You didn't fall asleep like this often anyway…

As gently as he could, so as not to wake you, he lifted your body up and sat you in his lap, shifting and angling himself to allow your legs to still hang over the edge of the bench, now exchanged for his legs. He looked up at your sleeping expression in reverence, bringing his thumb to wipe away your drool. In his other hand he took yours, which had been hanging limply at your side. With his other arm around your waist to keep you from tipping over, he leaned his head, cheeks burning, against your shoulder, yours falling atop his as he did.

Closing his eyes, he pressed a tender kiss to the back of your hand.

His heart fluttered with a novel tenderness...yet not one he found he minded. He would guard you as you slept. Care for you in your 'weakness', just as you had him in his.

To love a human might not be something he was yet capable of. But, if you would extend to him the same, not a half-fae, but him...

...he might be able to love you.

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First of all I just want to say: Thank you thank you thank you SO MUCH to everyone who engaged at all with my last (and first) writing post! > <

Knowing people like my writing was such a massive motivation-boost to me! I tend to struggle with perfectionism and feeling like my writing isn't good enough by my own standards, so all that stuff is very, very appreciated!

I also wanna say sorry if any of them seemed OOC— aside from Malleus, I don't feel as confident in writing these characters as I do for the characters in my first post, since I don't know them as well yet. A big thank you to @yuurei20 for their TWST character fact sheets (found here) for the help! And also to the people who contribute to the the English TWST wiki!

Lastly: A reminder if you didn't already know, that I do, in fact, take requests! Coming up with WHAT to write is usually the hardest part for me; when I get past that I have a blast! ^^

...Also I think doing the research for this has skyrocketed Sebek up my 'favorite TWST characters' list because damn. That's rough, buddy. And honestly same in a way. His part was definitely my favorite to write.

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s my body is a slaughterhouse.

[text id: my jugular misses your teeth.]

[rosarysgarden]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’

[text id: i have the everlasting tendency to ruin everything i love.]

[brigid-faye]

Sirius Black would watch the Pride and Prejudice 2005 hand flex on loop and Remus Lupin would notice and do it some random day walking away from breakfast and Sirius would fall out of his chair

[expiredhydrogenperoxide]

oh nothing, just jegulus ‘accidentally’ swapping ties and watching sirius go absolutely mental trying to figure out how james ended up with a slytherin tie.

(he would have so many outlandish theories)

[msvanillalatte]

Deal With

*James and Sirius fighting*

James: Fuck you, Black!

Sirius: Oh, so you didn't get enough with my little brother, you bitch!

*Remus and Regulus watching*

Remus: See what I have to deal with when you leave?

[another-random-paradise]

hello! if you're up to it i've had this one idea in my head for a long time that i just need to see written out

basically maybe short drabbles/hcs about leona, jamil, and vil with a reader who, on days where they're tired, is super affectionate physically as in they might see him pass by in the hall and take his hand for a moment/just search for him to get a hug from him, or comes up to him randomly and puts their head on his shoulder — maybe even in a few classes if they're REALLY exhausted, tldr reader just needs some affection when they're tired and loves receiving physical affection </3

~ ☆

Thank you for this lovely request!! I’m the same haha, nothing like a good hug when your tired <3 also I am so so sorry you had to wait this long, I’ve had a lot going on lately,, I really hope I did the request justice <3

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Reader whose affectionate when tired

Characters: Leona, Jamil, Vil

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None that I can think of

Leona

-Leona is in heaven

-or at least he thought he was at first

-After all, you being affectionate when tired, means more naps with you!

-except that, thanks to these naps, you aren't tired anymore, and don't seek his  affection as often anymore. And the lazy lion has already gotten so used to it, that he finds it annoying to sleep without it now.

-He'd much prefer you'd just constantly had the urge to nap, like him

-You'll find him grumbling to himself, whenever you don't feel as affectionate, just as you'll find him with a smug grin whenever you cuddle into him while he lazes around the botanical gardens 

-Jack once overheard Leona grumbling, with his tail swishing around angrily, and Jack was confused to say the least, seeing as how the lion was just grinning at you a few seconds ago

-turns out you just weren't all that tired that day, and, in Leonas opinion, didn't give him enough affection before running of - not that he'd ever admit that 

-overall he really loves your affectionate side and wouldn't mind seeing it more often

Jamil

-conflicted, to say the least

-he genuinely loves you and your affection, he really does, but he's got a lot of work and a kalim who he needs to keep alive-

-He has fallen into a sort of routine when you feel sleepy, which is to get you comfortably to sleep as soon as possible 

-If your at Scarabia, he'll bring you to a more secluded couch (you cannot tell me that those couches aren't as comfortable as can be), lay you down, maybe with some hot tea, and stay with you till you very quickly fall asleep

-if you're at school, he always has some sort of coffee at hand to wake you up, or something sugary if you don't drink coffee! he'll make sure it's still somewhat healthy though

-should you fall asleep on him in class, he'll take notes and asks questions for you. Occasionally just looks at you for a few moments, his grades need to be worse than Kalims anyway, so he can't completely partake in the class anyway

-If you get caught by a professor though, he'll just chuckle a bit. 

-You can get mad at him for not waking you up, but he doesn't regret anything, he'll treasure in any time spend with you, where he doesn't have to worry about Kalim.

-on the very VERY rare chance that he has a day off, he basks in your affection! He'll most likely need to catch up on all the sleep he lost to Kalims shenanigans, so you two will most likely be cuddling in his bed, or on one of the couches in an otherwise empty lounge

-Or, maybe, to make sure Kalim doesn't barge in and ruin the moment, the two of you are at ramshackle, after sending Grim to heartslabyul! 

-on rare occasions Grim does join you two, curling up next to you, while muttering something about Jamil stealing his henchmen. You three almost look like a family <3 

Vil

-At first, Vil was confused as to why you'd sometimes be so much more affectionate than normally, but very quickly figured out the pattern; The more tired you are, the more affection he gets.

-He'd be lying if he said he doesn't enjoy the affection, it feels nice to be wanted by someone he genuinely cares for, who genuinely cares for him.

-BUT he doesn't like you not getting enough sleep, what kind of lover would he be if he just lets you miss your needed beauty sleep?!

-Also, he is a busy person with a reputation to uphold; he can't exactly film a movie or brew a potion with your arms wrapped around him, no matter how cute you may look..

-He does Indulge you, letting you cling to him when he isn't as busy, or in between classes, but never without a light scold about the importance of proper sleep!

-If you're clingy for a longer period of time, for example a whole week, he'll try to find out why, and then help you; If you stressed because of a test, he'll help you study, if something is worrying you, he'll pull out all the tricks to help you relax, ect.

-If you're just lonely, well.. he supposes you can sleep over ever so often, as long as he still gets his much needed beauty rest

-The first time this happens, he realises how much better he sleeps with you next to him, how much better the both of you sleep! 

-It very quickly becomes routine; that way you'll get your affection when you're tired in the evenings, but the two can still follow your normal routine during the day!

-...though he does miss, the way you'd hug him from behind in the hallway, or the way you'd lay your head on his shoulder when Professor Trein was being particularly boring.. maybe letting you stay up longer when neither of you have anything important the next day would'nt be all that bad.. 

Once again, just so very sorry it took this long, I promise I didn’t make you wait on purpose, I’m always trying to reply and write as fast as possible <3

Feedback is welcome, just be nice please! Hope you have a wonderful night/day

[tortured-poet-of-thursday]

writing gay fanfictions to cope with the fact that i feel like smth is wrong with me

[allamericanb-tch]

remus lupin’s favorite things 

his whiskey neat 

coffee

black, in his bed at 3

[noirsnonsense]

police officer james potter following a lead on the crazy stalker killer with his partner regulus black who only applied for the job because he fell in love with James after stalking him for the last couple months (regulus IS the crazy stalker killer they're following if that wasn't obvious.)

[moonyasnow]

Seeing Green.

How they react to an S/O who tries to hold back bad jealousy issues

CHARACTERS : Leona, Azul, Kalim

CONTENT : Intense jealousy from Reader, Reader has thoughts of murder (Leona's part), unhealthy behaviors (Leona's part), Reader is implied to be insecure, who am I kidding almost all of them are insecure

Jealousy was an ugly thing, you knew…and even more so within you. It was ugly, and burning, and scared, and desperate, and bloodlust. It teemed within you, coursing through your veins as surely as your blood, seeming to radiate from your painfully throbbing heart and spread like miasma constricting your lungs and out through your nose in heavy, laborious breaths.

Sometimes you were afraid he could smell it on you...

Leona

Leona Kingscholar, the overlooked, never-desired, second prince of the Sunset Savannah was no stranger to jealousy…no, envy was more like it, what he yearned for seemingly always just out of reach no matter how far he extended his hand. But Jealousy and Envy— desire to keep near what is yours, and desire for what someone else's possesses— are two sides to the same coin.

So then, when he saw the signs of jealousy, he instantly recognized it for what it was.

After a summons from his brother and sister-in-law back to the Sunset Savannah for some important international relations event he 'simply couldn't miss!' he dragged you with him as his living emotional support pillow. But as always happened at those events, something he'd grown used to and been expecting, he had 'suitors' crawling all over him.

Second Prince with a bane of a Signature Spell and a bad reputation or no, he was still royalty, and quite handsome. But even if the latter wasn't the case, nothing will ever stop social climbers. He knew none of them could care less about him as a person, only his title, and he had no interest in any of them.

Even though you knew this, the pit of dread in your stomach still made itself known. You didn't know any of the people who came up to the two of you— had no idea if, if given the opportunity, they might actually have any chance of stealing him away from you. But that didn't seem to matter. Because as soon as one of them came up and began to flirt with him, in the open, right next to you, his partner… Your mind roiled and screamed and wanted them dead. You wanted their head on a platter, wanted to see them shoved out a 10-story window, dig your nails into the sides of their face and force them to look at you and tremble while you asked them what they were doing, acting so familiar with your lover as though you weren't even there.

He noticed the shift in energy beside him as quick as it appeared, glancing to the corner of his eye to see you gritting your teeth, taking long, steady breaths and trying with all your might to hide the look of disgust, rage and anguish on your face. He understood instantly, and didn't even try to stop his grin.

To think his little Herbivore, usually so nice and sweet and docile, had such an ugly side to them. One that was just for him. That he alone had the sway to turn an unsure and timid thing like yourself into such a monster. But he couldn't say it was a sight he hated. He was the only this possessiveness of yours was directed toward. He, and no one else, was that special to you. He, and no one else, was desired by you.

He would exploit it. It was for him after all, wasn't it? So that feeling of yours was his to do with as he pleased. He wouldn't go out of his way, of course, who do you take him for? Instead going out of his way not to go out of his way: letting the touch of an overeager suitor linger on his shoulders instead of shrugging them off, returning their gaze for a second too long, pretending he didn't notice you biting your lip harder in distress. The way you clung to him so tightly after you retired to his room for the night, curling your body so closely around him, as though scared he'd disappear if you let go, was too sweet not to. You held him like he was precious. Priceless. More important than anything. It was a feeling he couldn't help but chase after the first time he felt it because of you.

It made him feel so powerful. Satiated something inside him with roots so deep he could never pull it out. But for a moment, this jealousy of yours made him forget it. You recognized his greatness, after all: enough to be scared of him being taken away from you…

…You recognized him.

But…when you woke him up in the middle of the night, crying quietly into his chest, he knew why. He took it too far.

Would he want to be more straightforward with you if he could? Possibly. Was it cruel? Most definitely. But 'honest' and 'nice' were two words that had never been used to describe him. He wasn't capable of that, so why even try? Besides, you knew what you signed up for, being with him.

…At least, he hoped so.

Azul

A youth spent overlooked, insulted, bullied and outcast from the peers one is supposed to be connecting with, for Azul Ashengrotto, resulted in a very low sense of self worth. And with it, a deeply engrained fear that he wasn't good enough to truly keep the things he cherished. At least, not if he acted like himself. While for him, that most often manifested in a fear of you rejecting him; seeing a hint of weakness in him and deciding to 'cut your losses' and run, he was also not a stranger to jealousy.

You wanted to cling to him, be closer to him, hold him in a vice grip and never let go. But you were afraid to… Scared that your hold might be suffocating to him. For while you loved the intelligent, dedicated and hard-working side of him, it was also the one you feared might discard you, write you off a distraction, if he knew of your desperation for him. So then…when you saw Jade and Floyd so seemingly comfortable and easily able to take his attention even from his work, alarm bells rung in your head. You tried to soothe yourself with the fact that it was just because they were childhood friends, but that seemed to have the opposite effect. They were closer to him than you. You feared you would never be that close to him. That if it came to it, he would choose them over you in a heartbeat. It seemed to crush you from the inside out.

But you hid it. Experience had taught you that being clingy and jealous, much less showing others those feelings, never lead to anything good. You swallowed it and put it in a bottle and hoped he would never notice. Hoped you could wait until you were alone to spill your tears.

One day when you came to his office to spend time with him, your time together was briefly interrupted by Jade, coming to deliver papers of some kind. You expected him to leave quickly afterwards, watching and waiting for him to make his exit. But he met your eyes briefly, then began to make small talk with Azul. With the two focused on each other, you, at his side, felt like a fly on the wall. A ghost. A third wheel, even in the presence of your lover. Your jealousy reared its ugly head with a passion. The pressure within you only kept building until Jade had finally left.

It was then that he saw you, almost trembling, trying and failing to hide the tears welling up in your eyes and shifting infinitesimally closer to him, hands twitching to close the distance, breathing like your lungs were filled with stones, yet biting your lip hard in a by-now futile attempt to hide it. At first, he began to panic, mind spinning with thoughts of what he could have done to upset you so. But then it hit him— this only started after your time together was interrupted.

When he realized that, he realized the probable cause for your distress.

You feared losing his attention, losing his love, losing him, didn't you? You were scared someone else would come along and make him forget about you. He understood. Seven, he hated how much he understood… So much that it felt uncomfortable, seeing his own inner ugliness reflected back at him.

Having gathered evidence, he decided to confront you with it in order to ask you about the issue, like a detective would a crime-suspect. He wanted to believe it was because he knew you would lie if asked without proof. But it was just what he knew; his methods of dealing with any and all confrontation having come from a history of needing to appear always calm, detached and in-control.

When he'd confirmed his suspicions and learned of your fear, he feared he might start crying. Wether from sadness that his lover could understand that fear, or from relief at not being the only one.

You expected him to be disgusted with the extent of your jealousy, your urge to be possessive and forbid him to look at anyone but you. But next thing you knew, he, who so often shied away from even your touch, had you wrapped gently in his arms.

From then on he let you act a bit more possessive of him. He knew what would soothe his own anxiety, and hoped that the same might soothe yours. He was still plagued with the dual fear that clinging too much might suffocate you, and that loosening his hold too much might see you slip from his grasp, so he couldn't bring himself to do it. Still, he let you cling to his arm. It made him flush with both smug pride and embarrassment at the same time, having you coiled around his arm in front of others, soothing his own insecurity as much as the twins' teasing tickled his defensive side.

But he still let you.

If he could still find you lovely even with that 'ugly' side to you, he reasoned…then perhaps…just hypothetically…you could see the same in him.

One day, maybe he would show you…

Kalim

Kalim Al-Asim, heir to the richest merchant family in the Scalding Sands, one of the richest families in the world, purely by his parents' design, has never known jealousy. All that he wished for, he got. Knowing the precarious position he was in, that an attempt could be made on his life at any moment, he never took all that he had for granted. He was grateful for it, even though his cheer might not make it readily apparent. Yet as he had never truly lost anything he deeply cherished, he wouldn't be familiar with the feelings that weighed you down.

Though that didn't mean he wouldn't notice if you weren't feeling well. He might not be able to accurately place the reasons behind it, but through experience gained from years and years of playing host at various parties— or perhaps just an older brother's instinct— he always noticed when someone was feeling low.

Kalim had always been a social butterfly, and you knew this well— better than almost anyone, in fact, partly due to that being how you met in the first place. He was mesmerizing, so in his element entertaining people at parties, or just in regular conversation, and seeing him shining so brightly and enjoying each second of life with such a passion only made you fall even deeper for him.

But unlike him, sharing didn't come as naturally to you. No matter how hard you tried to reason with yourself, say that him putting an arm around another's shoulder was only a friendly gesture, that you knew Kalim was just a naturally touchy person and it didn't mean he didn't still consider you his favorite, nothing would soothe the tempest that raged within you. Each of his smiles that you so adored, directed at someone that wasn't you, felt like poison stabbed into your gut. Every time he laughed at a comment or joke made by someone else, the world seemed to drain of color, bit by bit. No matter how much you loved— adored— him, those feelings kept coming back every second he wasn't sitting next to you, holding you, leaning on your shoulder and directing all his focus to you.

It felt inevitable, in your mind, that it would end with you being forgotten in favor of someone else. Someone funnier, someone smarter, someone happier, someone more confident, someone less anxious…someone better.

When you waded too deep into the turbulent waters and risked losing yourself to the whirlwind of your anxious, paranoid thoughts is when he would always find his way back to you again. He could always tell, like some intuitive feeling, that something was bothering you. He might not know why, since you didn't often tell him, but he didn't like seeing you like that: looking so sad and lost. Spending time worrying about what the cause could be would only be taking time away from what was actually important: making you feel better. So he did what he did best.

He came up next to you again, linking his arm through yours and rubbing your foreheads together, beginning to talk your ear off about something or other, having you try more of the feast and telling jokes to make you laugh. Your sweet laugh made his spirits soar even higher than before. And that just made him want to make you happy even more! Like a spiral of happiness.

And when, after everyone had left, you held him tighter, he held back just as tight, loving the heat of your entwined bodies curled up under the covers. You were holding a bit too tightly to be comfortable at times. But every time you recognized that and loosened your hold on him, he squeezed back tighter. It was alright, that's what he wanted to say. It was alright for you to hold him as tight as you needed.

After you eventually fell asleep, he kissed your forehead gently as you slept in his arms. He might not know the reason behind your sadness, but he'd always do whatever he could to make it go away. Nothing brought him greater joy than seeing yours. And the thought that his presence alone could soothe you made him so happy. He couldn't help himself and pressed more and more feather-light kisses all over your face.

He felt like the luckiest man in the world, getting to call you his, and you calling him yours.

Hopefully, you would be forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So! This was my first headcanon post! I uh hope you liked it! Not gonna lie, I'm a liiiittle nervous posting this ; 0 v 0) I guess I'm still not really used to sharing my writing with people haha

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, from ‘i am your mould, but the shape of you is true absence, leaving me purposeless.’

[text id: you and i, blur into one]

[izzy-prizzy]

no i just-

Imagine after a certainly bad moon, Poppy is just sitting there beside Remus' bed, where he lies unconscious, covered in bandage, still healing scratches all over him..

She just sits there, looking, staring at her boy, no thoughts in her head, all blank..

She doesn't realise how much time has passed since she was sitting there until Minerva comes in.

"Poppy..?" the voice whispered softy.

And when she looks up to Minvera, it's like the silent spell broke. She couldn't hold it in longer. Her lips are trembling and before she knows tears are streaming down her face.

Minerva is there by her side in an instant, holding her as she cries against her.

"He's just a boy.." She croaks out.

"I know.."

"He's.. just a boy, Minerva.."

[hitlikehammers]

Steddie S4 💚Secret Relationship🩶

because when cheerleaders start floating and folding like laundry, what do you do? you run to your boyfriend (duh)

Eddie doesn’t dump his van on purpose. He runs out of fucking gas.

Through the pounding of his heartbeat and the screeching echo of his own screams and the memory of the cracking, the snapping of, of—

Through all of it he hears a voice in his head: when the little stick points to ‘E’ it isn’t a fucking suggestion, man and the tone the voice is in, the recognizable combination of snark and concern and fondness, genuine fucking fondness—it doesn’t calm his pulse at all but it does ease his nerves just a little, just enough to realize: he gonna have to run the rest of the way.

Thankfully, he took backroads: enough tree cover that footsteps would be hard to track so any direction would be way too hard to find, not quick enough, not before they can, not before Steve can—

He starts the old girl one more time before she gives out entirely, but the fumes take him into the woods far enough to hide the van pointing the wrong way, and the ground’s hard enough here still that he doesn’t leave tread marks. Okay.

Okay. So…running.

The lucky thing is, Eddie knows these woods.

Or rather: Eddie knows that these woods will take him right to where he wanted to go anyway. They run up against the backyard of the exact house with the exact man he needs.

He doesn’t keep to a straight shot, but he doesn’t waste time either, his chest hurts too much, and it’s weird that his heartbeat’s no harder or faster for fucking sprinting, his lungs no closer to hyperventilation when he’s a smoker who doesn’t really do physical activity, at least not the kind that’d help him out, here—it’s weird, and probably concerning that when he gets to the sliding glass off the back deck his lungs are on fire and his chest is heaving but it doesn’t feel any different from the moment he watched her, watched her…

No different from then, to now.

He thinks he’s slapping the glass more than knocking, but he’s answered quicker than he would be if the sole resident of the property had actually been asleep so. At least there’s that.

“Eddie?”

Steve’s all question in his tone for a whole second before he’s grabbing Eddie, pulling him in, closing the door and locking it quick and then, and then—

Pulling Eddie straight into his chest and wrapping around him and Eddie fucking collapses, drops into that embrace because he needs it, now, and it’s come to mean safe and home and, and loved and he—

“Eds, baby, are you hurt?” Steve doesn’t peel him away where he burrows in further, but starts running palms down Eddie’s limbs, looking for wounds, for clues as Eddie shakes, trembles and gasps against him.

“What is it, what happened?” Steve tries to get him to breathe even as he asks, even when his hands finish searching, when Steve sees that his body at least is intact, unlike—

Fuck.

“Eds, come on, deep breath with me,” and Steve grabs one of Eddie’s hands and shoves it hard to his own chest, models the motion like Eddie’s never learned how on his own and it helps, it does help, and he knows he needs to, to tell Steve and—

“Did,” Eddie gets out a single word on a huff of air but Steve soothes him, praises the pathetic accomplishment, so Eddie tries again, just one word. One word at a time.

“The mall.”

Two words. And Steve’s steady breaths. He can do this. His hand’s held still by Steve’s while the rest of him’s still shaking but: he can do this.

For Chrissy.

“Before, the other times,” Eddie bites out and screws his eyes shut because he can see it either way, and he needs to kind of hide a little, even if it doesn’t change anything, if he’s gonna get it out, if he’s gonna say it and make it real so he can’t take it back:

“Did people ever…float?”

Steve’s hands still, and Eddie swears he can feel Steve’s heart trip for just a second before it starts beating a little harder but: never once, not once, does Steve breathing falter. It’s a steady throughline for Eddie to keep following even as his fear deepens because Steve’s still, tense against him now in a whole new way and Eddie tries, he tries so hard to lose himself in breathing, in Steve’s breathing, so deep he’d probably have missed it if he weren’t pressed so tight against that chest so as to hear the murmuring from inside more than out:

“Not yet,” Steve barely whispers as his hands start moving, stroking back and forth up and down Eddie’s spine; “have they started to?”

Eddie starts shaking a little harder. He’d been real fucking afraid of that.

It takes an hour, maybe closer to two, for Eddie to choke out the details. They’re bundled on the couch, Eddie with a water Steve insists he drink, and it probably makes sense because of how much he’s losing in fucking tears as he just, just sees her snapping in half and folding into, into—

It makes sense, needing hydration or whatever, but Eddie’s doesn’t trust himself not to sick up even a sip of it.

By the time he’s finished, he feels wrung out in ways he didn’t know were possible. Like the blood in him’s been squeezed out and he’s just a husk, but Steve.

Steve doesn’t stop holding the wrung-out husk of him. And that’s…that is something.

“That’s,” Steve finally starts, and his tone is different now from the placating soothing he’d kept up throughout Eddie’s recounting of the horrors, but the press of his lips to Eddie’s temple is still exactly the same.

Eddie feels something in him starting to ease, solely because of and solely possible for the way Steve holds to him, close and unwavering. He feels it before the words come out, the slight tension that hits Steve’s muscles and the dry catch of the breath in his chest before he speaks:

“Eddie,” and it’s a tone that Eddie doesn’t hear too often, but is still wholly familiar with for the most heartbreaking reasons, like when the nightmares had gotten too frequent and Eddie had been the one to cry when Steve clammed up and shook head to toe in Eddie’s arms because Steve was hurting that bad and wouldn’t tell him why, and how could Eddie help if Steve wouldn’t tell him why—

It’s the tone of voice that broke Steve’s NDA that night. It’s the tone of voice that finally explained why Steve went ramrod-still when a light flickered. It was the tone that explained, the first time they got high together, why Steve hadn’t smoked in months and why he was scared to try again and he wanted to face the fear of it but would Eddie, could Eddie just make sure, like—

It’s the same voice, now, so Eddie saves him the trouble, because that voice shatters Eddie’s heart to pieces, every time.

“It’s like Starcourt,” Eddie whispers, hoarse as hell and still watery, as if somehow unthinkably he’s got more tears to spare; “and like the tunnels, and the,” be swallows, and turns to look Steve in the eyes:

“The nail bat?”

The first time he saw that thing he was naive enough to think it was badass. After he learned what it was really for, he didn’t think it was less badass but. He actually processed the stains that wouldn’t come off as the wrong shade for being just rust.

“I think,” Steve breathes in deeper, the way that always hurts, and he looks so fucking apologetic when he exhales, as if it’s somehow his fucking fault:

“I think so.”

The words aren’t said like there’s any doubt in them, though, and maybe Eddie starts to spiral.

“They’re gonna think it was me,” he squeezes his eyes tight against the scene in his living room, that his uncle’s gonna find, fuck, fuck; “they’re gonna think I—”

And then Steve’s grabbing him above the elbow, spinning Eddie around to properly face him, then shaking Eddie just enough to demand his attention, as if the low growl that escapes him, that hits a note Eddie suspects both gods and devils raise up to take heed of:

“I am not gonna let anyone lay a fucking finger on you.”

And…and what’s Eddie even supposed to do, when Steve says it, when Steve uses that voice for him?

All he can seem to do is cover Steve’s hands so desperate, anchor that this man is for him, and close his eyes when Steve leans to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“There are people who clean this up,” Steve reaches to cradle Eddie’s head closer, to press lips behind his ear; “but they’re slow and they’re always too chickenshit to step in and take fucking responsibility while it’s all going down,” Steve’s tone is dry, so much judgement but his grip, his hold is somehow so comforting and firm at the very same time and Eddie thinks that’s why he feels safe, or almost, even as Steve eases him back, licks his lips, nods to himself and then kisses Eddie, full on the lips and hard, quick, before he pulls them both up to stand, links one hand in Eddie’s as he pulls him behind him as he walks through the house, quick and almost clinical:

“So here’s what we’re gonna do.”

The terms Steve lays out are…simple, if kinda terrifying not least for the fact that Steve has terms, because no one could think this up so quick on the spot under this kind of pressure, not to mention with the prompt of how to hide your boyfriend if he ends up wanted for murder, Jesus fuck—

“It was a plan to keep you safe, or us safe, or you and Wayne safe or,” and oh, oh Steve’s answering him, Eddie didn’t notice he was talking out loud. He can’t even blush for it, doesn’t think there’s enough blood to pool there when it’s still racing through his veins maybe not at top speed anymore, but: still making a sprint to the finish as they climb the stairs down instead of up, as Eddie follows Steve to a wall with a painting in the finished half of the basement, watches Steve lift the painting off its hanger and—

“You have a basement vault,” Eddie can…only state the obvious as he watches Steve go under the back of the frame of the painting and find a very evil-villain type of key, in this very evil-villain type of set up, and he blurts without thinking, save it’s kinda all he can think:

“Is one of your parents a serial killer?”

Steve at least snorts, at that.

“Probably closer to white collar criminal,” Steve shrugs as he swings open a pretty…small, ish, space behind the metal door, thicker than Eddie’d figured but definitely evil-villain style with it.

“It had a bunch of locked filing cabinets, like three safes, and the shelves went across this way,” Steve stretches his arms along the back of the vault and okay, yeah, less evil-villain, unless you count Reaganomics-style capitalism as a villain. Which Eddie does, but.

Not the point.

“Just all stacks of shit in folders that definitely seemed a hundred percent normal,” Steve deadpans, takes it in stride; Eddie’s always impressed with his boyfriend but fuck: he’s in goddamn awe of him in a whole new way, just now.

“When it became pretty clear they weren’t coming back any time soon, and even if they were, when,” Steve shrugs and crosses his arms, rolls his shoulders back in that way Eddie doesn’t think he even recognizes doing:

“When the end of the world started to be a recurring thing, I mean, that sure as shit beats out trying to hide your shady business dealings any day.”

He nods to himself, and glances toward Eddie, maybe for agreement or approval or moral support and Eddie’s got all that and more, hopes his own bobblehead-like nodding conveys as much. Steve smiles the tiniest bit and then dives back in, like all he needed was a little boost. A little tacit but undeniable love.

And…maybe that really was all Steve needed.

“It’s a tight squeeze, but,” he curls himself into the space, crouches to demonstrate; it’s not terrible, but it’s definitely the tight side of cozy; “needs must or whatever,” exactly, yes, right, and Eddie’s wiry; it’s more than fine.

“Essentials are all packed in for short term use,” he gestures at boxes of food, cans and an opener, firearms. Ammunition. Eddie swallows…harder than he should. He’s fired a gun before.

Just…one time at the air to scare off a coyote.

“I tried to get a plumber but,” Steve grimaces, forging on; “they said they’d need to dig the whole thing up and they can’t start until summer at the earliest,” more than implying that he was on the list and waiting for summer. This was…this was…

“You really went all in on this,” Eddie kinda marvels because…holy shit, you know?

Steve, because he’s Steve, just raises a brow and smirks a little.

“Well, duh.”

And Eddie grabs him, frames his face and just drinks him in before he kisses Steve so goddamn hard.

“God, I love you,” he breathes against Steve’s mouth as they start to pull away, linger just to taste each other on the exhale, before Steve pulls back, but reaches to keep Eddie’s hand in his, like a tether.

Eddie sure as fuck appreciates it.

“Key,” Steve holds up the fancy thing and taps the keyhole; “you lock it, then close it behind you,” and Eddie nods, seems straightforward enough; “I’m gonna put it with some of my keys upstairs, make it look innocent, but,” and Steve turns to him, gaze more serious than Eddie thinks he’s ever seen it.

“If you hear anything, you come down here. If you hear anyone but me, and I’ll call out and make sure you know if it’s safe, and that I’m alone, but if it’s anyone but just me,” and Steve squeezes his hand before letting go and maybe Eddie whimpers a little for the loss, but he tracks Steve with his eyes, almost unblinking.

“I want you to turn this here,” he points the key to the lock again; “hide the key under this part of the rug,” he lifts an area of carpet Eddie doesn’t think is meant to lift until he sees the concrete underneath and the groove that lets the key lie flat, unnoticeable; “then lock yourself in, and flip the deadbolt to make sure you’re safe,” Steve swings the door further open and toggles the deadbolt for demonstration; “so when it issafe, I’ll know from the keys upstairs where you are, and be down the second the coast is clear.”

Eddie nods, runs it through in his head—use key, hide key, climb into the vault, deadbolt the door, wait.

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Steve’s palms are holding his own.

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s breathing out, sounds pained but then he’s stroking Eddie’s hair, tangling with a sweat-stuck curl, drawing Eddie’s forehead to his own to steady him, or try to as he promises:

“Baby, I’ve got you.”

And Eddie breathes, does his best to nod and not dislodge them from each other but Steve feels it, knows him, and pulls them chest to chest, wraps Eddie close so he can hide alongside Steve’s neck, feel the stray pump of his pulse where Eddie can feel anything outside his own sudden ramp back up toward hyperventilating, Jesus fuck.

“Do you trust me?” Steve’s suddenly breathing right against Eddie’s ear, and pulling Eddie’s hand, palm flat to his chest, filling the need he knows Eddie holds for the anchor, the rhythm he can tie himself to.

“Never thought I’d trust anyone, ever, like I trust you,” Eddie answers, steadiest as he’s been so far, as soon as he finds his voice to manage it. Steve presses his hand to his chest tighter, somehow holds him closer.

“I am going to keep you safe,” Steve vows, kisses Eddie’s hair and breathes in deep before he asks, his heartbeat still steady under Eddie’s hand but…stronger somehow:

“You love me?”

It’s a statement spoken like a question. Both and neither.

The answer’s the same either way.

“More than life.”

Steve nods, kisses Eddie’s temple now and pulls back only enough to look him in the eye as he cups his jaw and nods, takes in Eddie’s certainty and—

“Then no matter what happens, you won’t leave this house.”

Eddie stiffens, feels his jaw drop a little because, because…

“But—”

“And you’ll do exactly what I say while you’re in it, if something goes entirely fucking haywire and anyone tries to come for you here.”

And Steve’s eyes hold him so steady, so steely, so sure: because Eddie does love him. More than life. And…

And this is why Steve demanded spoken proof of the thing they both know.

“Dirty pool, Harrington,” Eddie bites out against Steve’s neck again, because…he’s so tired. And he feels safe here, against the man he loves, like…really loves. He…he’ll give in, for this man. Nobody else.

“It’s been closed all winter, so, yeah,” Steve sighs exaggeratedly, his chest lifting with it high, still under Eddie’s hand; “pretty dirty pool out there.”

Eddie can’t help how he snorts.

“Motherfucker.”

“Nope,” Steve shakes his head, tone dramatically lamenting; “I’m a deeply committed monogamist,” and Steve reaches, draws Eddie’s face from its hiding place and brings him within kissing distance:

“And I’m deeply committed to you, so,” and fuck him, fuck him for the way he runs a thumb so delicate, so tenderly down Eddie’s bottom lip, looks at him so lovingly, as if his nerves aren’t already fried enough without Steve making him fucking weak in the goddamn knees.

“But you’re going out there—” Eddie puts up a protest he wishes rang clearer, more forcefully—but he’s drained, and he’s starting to feel it hard.

“We know what we’re doing,” Steve tells him, not unkindly, not dismissively—tries like hell for reassuring, even. “And it’s not that I don’t think you do, or can. It’s not that I doubt you, you know that,” and fuck all: Eddie does.

He’s a coward and a hypocrite in a lot of fucking ways but. Not this one.

“But if they tie you to Chrissy,” Steve says so soft, treads so careful; “I need you safe,” and he’s right, he’s fucking right because Eddie ran, he ran from her body, and he—

“Because I can’t do my part to help stop this if my heart’s not in it all the way.”

Eddie frowns at that; doesn’t understand.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Steve’s smile tightens, goes thin but his eyes never waver.

“Because it’d busy worrying only about you,” and he’s honest to a fucking fault, like it’s obvious too, which Eddie’s own heart’s tripping twice on in a row and hard, just to hear it said so plain and adamant. “If you’re out there, even with us, you’re vulnerable.”

“I can take care of—” Eddie starts, but Steve’s thumb’s back on his lip: dirty fucking pool.

“We don’t do that anymore,” Steve whispers, and it’s the first time his eyes look less than sure as he breathes out: “do we?”

And fuck, fuck: that’d been Eddie’s line. That’d been Eddie trying to soothe Steve, to learn his secrets in the first place in order to help, or at least try. They don’t…they don’t have to take care of themselves alone.

“Please, Eddie,” Steve whispers, too low and almost toneless for it, in order to count as begging. But.

Steve’s got him. His own words. His whole heart. Fuck.

“Okay.”

And Steve looks at him, studies him without breathing almost to the point of concern, like he’s looking for the lie but there isn’t one. Eddie…for Steve.

Eddie can do this for Steve. He will do this for Steve.

And he gets a hell of a kiss for it, so. His efforts don’t go unrewarded.

Steve takes his hand again and leads him back up the stairs, sets him in a chair and kisses his head, keeps him as close as he can when he can’t hold him full-on while he makes a phone call that Eddie only hears on the periphery, makes out, hate to call so late, Mrs. Byers, but I just found out that, yeah, she’s taken a turn, and I know you were, yeah, exactly, Claudia will be a mess and, no, no, I think there’s time, just, if you still wanted, I think it’s probably a good idea to try and get here? Sooner rather than later, yeah, then he’s hanging up and Eddie’s watching him almost desperate with wide eyes he can’t seem to close, and Jesus fuck , he’s losing it again, he can’t stop shaking—

“Eds.”

And Steve’s there, pulling Eddie up but he’s a puppet with his strings cut; he falls right back to the chair and Steve guides him down to it, settles him again before he bends, kneels and takes both his hands.

“We’re gonna get some rest, okay, even if it’s just cuddling in bed, even if we can’t get to actual sleep we’re gonna get some rest,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hands until he nods his understanding; “because I’m gonna go into work tomorrow like nothing’s wrong, okay?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide at that, not just for having to lose Steve at his side—he hates it but it makes sense, it makes the kind of sense that comes from absolute necessity—but he’s…what about Robin, or the kids, the people who know—

“You’re not gonna tell…”

“I’m not gonna risk it,” Steve answers immediately; “anyone could overhear and,” he shakes his hand and lifts Eddie’s hands to his lips:

“I’m not gonna risk you, understand?”

So Eddie follows him up the stairs, most of his weight on Steve so much that he may as well have been fucking carried, and neither of them sleep, but Eddie clings to Steve harder than he’s held on to anything, folded up small against his chest and it…it finally helps calm Eddie’s pulse a little, lets him soak Steve up like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

He’s already fucking terrified it will be.

But alarms go off, and sunrise comes, and Steve gets dressed and ready, stopping to drop kisses to Eddie head, his face, his neck as he goes from the bedroom to the en-suite and back while Eddie stays safe in bed, and it’s really the only thing that makes Eddie sit up, when Steve’s out of sight too long for doing his hair, it’s just to…to keep him, a little longer.

He gets out of bed and follows Steve around like a puppy, wouldn’t even deny it, couldn’t ever regret it, as Steve moves some of the food from upstairs down to the basement in case you feel more comfortable down there than in the dark up here because of course everything’s closed up tight and Eddie nods, grabs Steve and holds him close to his chest when it gets overwhelming, which is…a lot, he does it a lot of times, almost gets stuck in Steve’s work vest for fear of letting go.

For fear it’ll be the last time.

“Week, week and a half’s usually the most this shit ever takes,” Steve’s saying as he ties his shoes in the living room—where normally shoes aren’t allowed at all and the gesture of it, the automatic shift for Eddie’s sake almost makes him want to cry again, he’s so keyed up, so fucking anxious; “and honestly, it’s not even that long, most times—”

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice fucking shatters just around his name because…because this is happening, Steve is leaving, and Eddie’s, Eddie is…

“Depends on what act of the larger shitshow we’re walking into,” Steve tries to power through, but he grabs Eddie’s hand and holds it tight once his shoes are laced.

Eddie holds on harder.

“I will leave messages if I can, I’ll say they’re for my parents. Obviously they’re not.”

Because obviously.

“If I have any instructions, any things we learn to make you safe, I will call. So make sure you pay attention, but never answer.”

“Stevie,” and in being reduced to only being capable of speaking Steve’s name, apparently, Eddie comes to the immediate realization that it’s fitting. If he was left only one word in the world, it should only be the most important one.

“Don’t start to worry unless we’re gone, like, two weeks,” Steve squeezes his hand and makes to stand, makes to let go but—

“I’m worried now,” Eddie’s voice is a whine, more because he can’t control it to make it more or less—he clings to Steve’s hand in his own so hard he knows his nails have to be digging into Steve’s skin but Steve doesn’t flinch even once.

“I wanna watch your back,” Eddie whispers, staring at their hands, memorizing what it looks like: them. Together.

“You wanna watch me swing the bat,” Steve points out, tries to lighten the mood a little and goddamn him: it’s only a little, but it does fucking work.

A little.

“Also that, yes,” Eddie concedes but sobers quick, because it’s…it’s leaden, it’s so big and he is, he’s—

“I’m so scared and I’m not even the one who deserves to be.”

And Steve: Steve lifts Eddie’s hand to presses lips to his knuckles before pulling himself up and into Eddie’s chest to tilt his head and kiss him full-on.

“If there’s a next time,” Steve speaks so his lips drag against Eddie’s with every word he says; “we’re gonna get you ready for it, and you’ll be by my side, because I’m scared to let you out of my sight.”

And it’s only then that Steve pulls back, just to slam them chest to chest and wind his arms around Eddie, and Eddie’s response is to immediately do the same, until their lungs are fighting to press into each other like one entity—and Eddie wouldn’t protest, if they could. He wouldn’t think twice, if it was a choice.

“But this is the safest place this time, if they’re looking for you. If they want to,” and Steve’s voice gives out, or maybe he just can’t say it: doesn’t matter.

They both know what he means.

“You gotta stay here,” Steve breathes a little broken, and a whole lot desperate. “For me. Okay?”

And for anyone else, Eddie would fight it. Hell, Eddie a year ago would have fucking railed at least a little, still. But…not just for what he’s seen, and what he knows has got to be out there—Chrissy’s asshole of a boyfriend’s anger issues might pose more of a threat than the half-a-brain cops in this town since Hopper…well; since Hopper—but he will do it. No one will know he’s here. And no one will see hide or hair of him.

“For you,” Eddie agrees, but he can’t leave it just there; “if you do something for me.”

“Anything,” Steve’s quick to commit without even a hint as to what lies next. “So long as it keeps you here.”

And Eddie…never thought he could be loved like this. Never thought he could love like this.

He can’t fucking lose it.

“Be careful,” Eddie says, like those words hold the world, and they kinda fucking do. “Like, for real, okay? Come back to me. Come back for me. Please.”

“I will,” Steve vows, like, Eddie feels it kinda in his bones.

“Steve,” he still pushes a little, because Steve…he’s heard the stories. Hell, he knows how they got together, he has proof on his own end, no interdimensional monsters involved.

“No, no,” Steve nods, like he can read Eddie’s thoughts almost, or maybe his face gives him away. “I get it. I just, I can’t…not be—”

“You?” Eddie finishes for him, a little resigned but a lot proud, whole-ass in love. “I wouldn’t ask you to not be you. I love you, all of you. But—”

“But I get it,” Steve nods, eyes a little too bright. “I won’t leave you like that.”

Then he’s quiet, like he’s thinking something weighty over, but only for a second before he ducks his head, but still speaks more like he’s sure of the words than anything less:

“Kinda want, like, forever with you, or something, y’know?”

Eddie’s heart goes to his throat, and his breath catches before it can try to fight around the pounding, and Eddie processes the words, lets them sink in before he rasps, a little watery:

“You mean it?”

Steve licks his lips but doesn’t hesitate to nod. Eddie’s breath shakes so fucking much when he tries to get any air in.

“Me too,” he barely manages to whisper but his heart’s still in his throat; the words are saturated with it by default. “Have for,” he exhales, and his lips curve up with so much relief, so much fullness in his chest; “for a while.”

“Same,” Steve murmurs low, his gaze fucking sparkling; “the whole ‘falling fast’ thing I tend to do?” He chuckles a little. “You’ve been like,” and he airplanes one hand into the waiting ring of the other with a whoosh: supersonic. Faster than light.

Eddie feels…Eddie thinks he might fucking burst, he doesn’t know how you survive this…this. He’s never known it before. It feels…

It’s like magic, he thinks—but real.

“Stay here,” Steve’s leaning into him again, speaking straight into his open lips, directly down to his heart. “Be safe. Please. For me.”

Eddie seals it, his agreement, his devotion, his everything, by closing his mouth, catching Steve’s lower lip in a kiss before he turns the tables, does the talking straight up against Steve’s soul:

“Go out there. Be a hero. But be a safe hero. Please. For me.”

And Steve doesn’t hesitate to tip his head and cradle Eddie’s in a single second, both at once and bring them together to kiss full-on, to lick deep, to be sure in each other, with each other.

To taste the vows received and made in the heartbeats between them.

“Love you, babe,” Steve breathes into him, just before he moves back.

“Love you,” Eddie sighs, chest still heaving, heart still hammering, terrified but full: “so fucking much.”

“I love you more,” Steve volleys, playful, maybe a little tight edged but…the love wins out.

Always.

“I love you most,” Eddie tops him, the practiced exchange landing in his favor this time as Steve pouts before his grin turns sly.

“I love you mostest,” Steve counters, victory clear in his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a word,” Eddie huffs but it’s got no weight, doesn’t want any either.

“Is now,” Steve snips back through a smile that reminds Eddie why he’ll stay here, hiding; why Steve fights in the first place: at the end of the day, it’s this, isn’t it. It’s every shade and flavor of this.

“Then I love you more than even the mostest,” Eddie declares definitively before he kisses Steve hard, fast, commits it to memory and tattoos it on his ribs, before he leans his head to Steve’s and whispers:

“Robin’ll bitch if you’re late.”

And that’s how Steve pulls back, watches Eddie every second, goes through the garage so no one will see through the door, so he can keep their eyes locked as long as possible—

And then he’s gone.

<<< Part One ~or~ >>>want some more?

For @vegasol, who requested 'Secret Relationship' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth @grtwdsmwhr @eddie-munson-addict

divider credits here and here

ao3 link here ✨

[msvanillalatte]

WHAT?!

*James with a flower bouquet in hand for Regulus*

Sirius: Aww James, for me? I knew you were sweet...

Remus: Sirius, for fuck sake. You have a boyfriend and those flowers are meant for your brothe-

Sirius: WHAT? *acts dramatic even though all of them knew*

*Regulus enters with another flower bouquet in hand*

Remus: Awwww, thanks Reggie, you didn't have to!

Sirius: Moony, those are for James, let them go-

Regulus: Actually, they are for Remus *winks jokingly*

...

Sirius and James: WHAT?!

James: Actually, I'm noy surprised. After all, he's the Casanova of Gryffindor Tower.

[catsharkzzz]

i hate this fl ower and i want him to die im spraying an entire gallon jug of roundup weedkiller all over him i need him to explode

not a regretevator post for once !! i have a new fixation under my belt, dont worry i wont abandon the roblox elevator game for another roblox elevator game