#scribbly dragons are the best dragons...

[timethehobo]

Hello Professor

[kyruolio]

I recovered my 8 year old Flight Rising account so here's my fursona as a Gaoler because I fucking Love Them

[asterias-corner]

you ever get shifts but it’s like, from multiple of your types, so ur sitting there like this:

Yeah, I’m a dog, a star being, and a lil sea creature, what’s up

[yellow-computer-mouse]

New headmate (me). I'm Icicle, I'm a fictionkin (not fictive) of Icicle (Wings of Fire). No duh.

The others want me to add that we think I'm a persecutor, and to interact with caution, as I can be mean. I think they're just sensitive, but whatever.

[icebrooding]

They deserve each other so much I could cry

[inked-pigeon-feet]

I've turned them into stickers!!

To the laptop they stay >:)

[basiliskfeathers]

one of the faces used by my wizard/artificer, peregrine altacia druzy rosemantle 💌 she's so small and so cute and so unlucky in love and so so deeply cursed </3 including that she lost her true face, so now she uses illusions to hold onto a scrap of normalcy/indulge her vanity

i was possessed to draw this in one sitting bc she went thru So Much over the course of a few sessions.. her now-fiance (an unseelie fey & interplanar criminal) imprisoned himself inside the ring he proposed to her w Immediately after she said yes, And while wearing the cloak her wings were magically sealed in as per another curse, all of which played out in front of the party member she's been mutually pining for . and that's, like, not even the worst of her problems atm somehow!!

「apr 2024」

[monstermonger]

bit of a silly question here but have you ever gotten afraid to draw in a journal like the one you recently shared? like the idea of using the pages "incorrectly" or "wasting" them (or running out right before you get inspiration that might have been "better" than what you'd jotted down)? your art is INCREDIBLE and I know the best way to improve is to do it, all the time, but I struggle getting started for those sorts of fears, and I want to know if you have tips for overcoming that ^^

I don't think it's a silly question, in fact I think it's one of the Ultimate Art Questions haha

Yes I 100% struggled with that in the past; i'm happy to try my best, sharing some personal tips in journaling, specifically! :D

TECHNICAL SIDE:

>> Small simple sketchbook = less intimidating to fill the pages. (Also, easy to carry around)

5x7in Moleskin, and a pilot pen

>> My journal ISN'T a place to prove that I can make pretty pictures. I have separate sketchbooks for that. I use journals to jot down ideas and notes of things I like. (yes i shared a few pages that happened to look nice, but there were 100+ other pages after all d: )

Spontaneous observation is messy and imprecise. But not in a bad way.

Rather than seeing the messiness as "bad/unworthy imperfection," try to see it as a miraculous insight to how you, a unique human being with your unique thoughts and art experience, sees the things you like

My journal process (in general): doodle a pretty cake I ate, a funny bird I saw, some weird dialogue I overheard, stickers, stamps, a character in a book that I want to draw as a dragon,......... scatter them all over the page, then look at the random blocks of empty paper remaining. Fill those up next with another lil quote, or words about the week, or some pretty vines/flowers :) etc. It's like making a collage.

Draw what you actually LIKE + what actually sounds FUN to draw. u can always take photos/save pics of other stuff if it's overwhelming.

>> Find your comfort tools. I love ink. how it looks, feels, etc; I hardly ever use pencil. A sketch that I need to ink over is usually too much work for my journal. I'm just trying to get down ideas before I get bored or get inspired by another thing LOL

[But yeah: pencils can be the perfect tool for someone else. Regular pencils, colored pencils, watercolor pencils... play around with a bunch of basic tools to find your fav.]

EMOTIONAL SIDE:

I highly recommend Lynda Barry's book "Making Comics." She has some lovely, and deeply empathetic things to say about overcoming fear of making "bad" art.

My journal scribblings/therapeutic studies --- someone with 10x the skill could do it better, sure, but they probs wouldn't focus on the same details, or be interested in the same monsters, or be thinking the same thoughts as me.

They won't have the same things to say about their day, won't see the same spindly tree growing from a crumbling brick wall on their walk. etc!

Also! imo this POV isn't an excuse to feel like I don't need to improve my technical skill, but it keeps me happy, fulfilled, and motivated as I'm on that road of improvement. AND it makes me appreciate others' incredible art as their own reflection of the things they love/their own experiences, rather than view it competitively/jealously.

"Drawing is so much more than Good or Bad. It is a language from another part of you." - Lynda Barry

[sophiewritesworld]

ROLL FOR REDEMPTION - E.M.

SUMMARY: in which Eddie cuts you of his life, under his girlfriend’s influence, discarding mementos of your friendship. As you withdraw, becoming a shadow of yourself, Eddie feels trapped, clinging to a small reminder of you.

PAIRING: Eddie Munson x Female best friend

previous part - next part

TWO : The Weight of Absence

The library at Hawkins High smells like old paper and dust, a quiet sanctuary where the world’s noise can’t reach you. You’ve claimed a corner table near the back, hidden behind stacks of encyclopedias no one ever touches. It’s your fortress now, a place where you can bury yourself in books and pretend the ache in your chest isn’t growing sharper every day. Your backpack slumps against the chair, heavy with textbooks you don’t need but carry anyway, as if their weight can anchor you when everything else feels like it’s slipping away.

It’s been a month since that night at the quarry, since Eddie looked at you with those guilty eyes and chose Tara over you. The memory replays like a broken cassette tape, stuck on a loop you can’t eject—his voice, low and cracked, saying, I need to put her first. You haven’t spoken to him since, haven’t seen him except in fleeting glimpses in the hallways, his arm around Tara, his laughter muffled by the crowd. Each sighting is a fresh wound, a reminder that the boy who once knew every corner of your soul now treats you like a stranger.

You avoid the cafeteria, the parking lot, the arcade—anywhere you might run into the Hellfire Club or the rest of Corroded Coffin. Gareth, Jeff, and Dustin used to be your people, your fellow outcasts who’d joke about your terrible dice rolls or beg you to come to their gigs to “keep Eddie’s ego in check.” But now, their faces are landmines. You can’t look at them without seeing Eddie, without hearing the questions they’d ask: Where’ve you been? Why aren’t you at Hellfire? What’s up with you and Eddie? You can’t face their pity or their confusion, so you retreat, pulling away like a tide receding from the shore.

In class, you’ve taken to sitting in the front row, right by the door. You keep your head down, your notebook open, scribbling notes you barely process. The moment the bell rings, you’re out the door before anyone can stop you, your sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as you make a beeline for the library or your car. You’ve perfected the art of disappearing, of making yourself small despite your body’s insistence on taking up space. Your curves, once a source of hard-won pride, feel like a burden now, a reason Tara saw you as a threat. You tug your oversized sweaters tighter, hiding yourself, as if you could shrink into someone who doesn’t hurt this much.

Your grades are slipping, not because you don’t understand the material, but because your mind is a fog of grief. You stare at equations in math class, but all you see is Eddie’s handwriting on the margins of your old D&D notes, doodling dragons and skulls next to your character stats. You read The Great Gatsby for English, but the words blur into memories of Eddie reading Tolkien aloud to you, his voice dramatic and teasing as he narrated Bilbo’s adventures. Everything reminds you of him, and it’s suffocating.

Your friends—well, the ones who aren’t tied to Eddie—notice the change. Robin tries to corner you after history class, her eyes soft with worry. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been, like, a ghost lately.” You force a smile, mumble something about being busy, and slip away before she can press further. Steve, who you used to joke with at the video store, catches you in the parking lot one day, his hands on his hips like he’s about to lecture you. “You’re dodging everyone, you know that, right? What’s going on?” You shrug, your throat tight, and mutter an excuse about needing to study. You can’t tell them the truth—that losing Eddie feels like losing a limb, that you’re terrified if you open your mouth, all that’ll come out is a scream.

Hellfire Club used to be your refuge, the one place where you could be yourself, rolling dice and laughing until your sides hurt. You were the cleric, the group’s healer, always saving their asses when Eddie’s campaigns got too brutal. Now, the thought of walking into that drama room, seeing Eddie at the head of the table with his DM screen and his wild grin, makes your stomach churn. You stopped showing up, letting your character fade into the background of their story, just like you’re fading from their lives.

On the other side of Hawkins High, Eddie’s dodging questions like he’s dodging arrows in one of his campaigns. You don’t see it, but you hear whispers of it through the grapevine—classmates who pass by the Hellfire table at lunch, friends of friends who catch snippets of conversation. Dustin’s the first to ask, his voice loud and earnest during a Hellfire session. “Where’s she at, Eddie? She hasn’t been to a meeting in weeks. Is she okay?” Eddie freezes, his dice clattering to the table. “She’s fine,” he says, too quick, his eyes fixed on his notes. “Just busy, you know. Let’s move on—Gareth, what’s your next move?” The group exchanges glances, but they don’t push. They know Eddie well enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers fidget with his rings when he’s uncomfortable.

At band practice, it’s the same story. Jeff strums a chord, then pauses, looking at Eddie as he tunes his guitar. “You talk to her lately? She’s not coming to the gig at the Hideout, is she?” Eddie’s strumming falters, a sour note ringing out. “Nah, man,” he says, his voice clipped. “She’s got stuff going on. Can we focus?” Gareth raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, and the rehearsal stumbles on, the air thick with unspoken questions.

Tara’s always there now, perched on an amp during practice, her legs crossed, her eyes scanning Eddie like she’s making sure he doesn’t slip. She’s sweet to the band, all smiles and compliments, but there’s an edge to her, a possessiveness that lingers in the way she loops her arm through Eddie’s or leans into him when someone mentions your name. The band notices, but they don’t say it out loud. They miss you—the way you’d heckle Eddie from the crowd, the way you’d bring snacks and cheer louder than anyone—but they don’t know how to bridge the gap Eddie’s built.

You, meanwhile, are sinking deeper into yourself. You spend lunch periods in the library, your nose buried in a book you’re not reading, your Walkman blasting Joy Division so loud it drowns out your thoughts. The music is a poor substitute for Eddie’s voice, but it’s all you have. You avoid mirrors, avoid your own reflection in the library windows, because every time you catch a glimpse of yourself, you hear Tara’s unspoken accusation: You’re too much. You’re in the way. Your body, your laughter, your years with Eddie—it’s all too much for her, and now it feels like too much for you too.

One day, you’re in the front row of chemistry, scribbling nonsense in your notebook, when you hear his laugh from the hallway. It’s unmistakable, loud and unapologetic, the kind that used to make you smile no matter how bad your day was. Your pen freezes, and you strain to listen, catching Tara’s voice too, high and sharp. They’re close, probably by the lockers, and for a moment, you imagine running out there, grabbing his arm, and begging him to talk to you, to fix this. But the bell rings, and you’re out the door before anyone can stop you, your heart pounding as you duck into the library.

That night, you’re in your room, the lights off, the Polaroid of you and Eddie at the arcade pinned to your corkboard like a wound you can’t stop picking at. You’re curled up on your bed, your knees drawn to your chest, when the phone rings. Your heart leaps, but it’s not him. It’s Dustin, his voice hesitant. “Hey, um, we miss you at Hellfire. Eddie’s being weird about it, but… you okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m fine,” you lie, your voice barely steady. “Just… busy.”

“Bullshit,” Dustin says, blunt as ever. “Something’s up. You and Eddie have a fight or something?”

“No,” you say too quickly. “It’s nothing like that. I just need… space.”

He sighs, and you can picture him pushing his cap back, frustrated. “Okay, but you know you can talk to me, right? We’re worried.”

“I know,” you whisper, and you hang up before the tears come. You don’t call back.

The next Corroded Coffin gig is at the Hideout, and you don’t go. You used to be their biggest fan, screaming lyrics from the front row, your voice hoarse by the end of the night. Now, you sit in your car in the school parking lot, the engine off, staring at the flyer someone left on the bulletin board. Corroded Coffin, Friday, 9 PM. You imagine Eddie on stage, his hair flying, his guitar screaming, Tara watching from the sidelines like she owns him. The thought makes you feel sick, so you drive home, the radio silent.

Eddie, meanwhile, feels the weight of your absence. He doesn’t admit it, not to Tara, not to the band, not even to himself. But it’s there in the way he scans the crowd at the Hideout, hoping to see your face, only to find Tara’s instead. It’s there in the way he fumbles lyrics he’s sung a hundred times, because you’re not there to mouth them back at him, your grin a beacon in the dim light. He tells himself he’s doing the right thing, that Tara’s worth it, that love means sacrifice. But every time he sees your empty chair at Hellfire, every time Dustin or Gareth brings you up, he feels a crack in his resolve, a whisper that he’s made a terrible mistake.

You don’t see any of this. You’re too busy hiding, shutting down, letting the silence consume you. Your world is smaller now, confined to library corners and front-row seats, to nights alone with music that can’t fill the hole Eddie left. You wonder if this is what it means to disappear, to become a ghost in your own life. And somewhere, deep down, you wonder if Eddie even notices you’re gone.

Taglist : @whisperingwillowxox @robinsbuckleys @iyskgd @hereforshmut @poshpinklace @kissmyacdc @nubedeoctubreval @hellhoundvv

(did I do this taglist thing correctly ?)

[timethehobo]

Love drawing rain scenes tbh.

[r-aindr0p]

you spoke about glomas ruggie and that took my mind to glomas jamil in my head, lmao. mmm, i see him as another vampire hunter, but not as an active member of the church... besides naga, pls that no😭 do you see jamil as any other creature to fight?

Alright so ! I finally organized the characters + roles etc...

You already know the main guys of the au so they're not in this mess of scribbles :') I don't have precise dynamics fixed but I want to keep the Vampirook/Rollo the main focus (it's my main brainrot of the moment after all) Might idk... put all the names in a hat and randomly pick two out and figure it out Three more vampires because they're the main menace (supposedly) I wanted Riddle to be a vampire because go ham lil man !! Hell yeah !! Sebek as a vampire made sense too he naturally has feral creature energy (usually hangs with either malleus and silver or riddle) And of course Idia, absolutely eating rats because he can't possibly imagine himself approach anyone to feed, nuh-uh. Pathetic and even more creature than he already is... (There's a weird man offering potions to him though, but in exchange of money. So he does snatch some coins here and there sometimes.) Made Malleus a devil because I wanted to keep the horns (a hornless malleus might as well be bald at this point) He does his things by himself and joins the other mieschief makers when it looks fun :)) Jamil is a vouivre (not really a snake or dragon, not really a wyvern either, semi aquatic creature) He used to guard a huge treasure vault belonging to a powerful and rich family but fuck that shit he's out. Now living his life by himself in peace (or he thought). The ruby is the only thing he kept from his past and is very attached to it. (some might try to snatch it though, yknow... could be sold for a lot of money...) Chose to make Silver the incubus because look at those mesmerizing eyes and that aura... He does feed by sleeping with others.... literally. You'll sleep the worst nap of your life while he peacefully snoozes using you as a pillow. And you will wake up even more tired, needing at least a week to recover. (insomniacs are not deemed nutritious) And Azul ahh Azul, he's a thorn in your side and a helpful asset at the same time. Strangely always here when you have troubles to be solved... Need a potion ? The location of a creature perhaps ? Substitutes foods ? Spell parchment ? Maybe you're finally down to sign a pact with him ? :))) The man is too annoying to be fully acknowledged by anyone but infuriatingly too handy to be taken out. Church guys !!! Epel mainly joined the hunting squad to be able to wield weapons and be cool as heck. Morning star is his favorite weapon though. Sells baked goods at the end of the morning masses, it works pretty well ! Deuce is the newest member and is being taught the basics by Ruggie and Epel, he's also helping around the church in general and is doing his best !!! (he spilled the red wine on the white altar cloth) Ruggie has been here for a while now. Being a hunter pays well and he actually helps around a lot and prepares meals for those in need. And yeah yeah stealing is bad but when evil creatures are full of riches it's alright to snatch a bit of it, right ??

[lanadelspray02]

HOLD ME ANYWAY: CHAPTER 20

paige x azzi

Hey guys, I'm sorry it took me a while to get this out. I honestly had a hard week, and I have sort of been spiralling a bit :/ I don't really like talking about my mental health, but I do suffer from depression, and I'm in a funk I can't seem to get out of. So, I guess this is me trying to be brave and say that if you ever need to talk to someone, don't be afraid to reach out <3 i know how hard it can be to ask for help but maybe we can help each other out!

Now, on another happier note, enjoy this chapter. Sorry, it's not the best, but the next chapter will definitely be better! <3

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 9254

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

Tuesday Afternoon

Azzi hadn’t expected the knock at the door.

She’d just finished rinsing lunch plates, sleeves still damp, her brain still cycling through the same quiet swirl of thoughts that had followed her around all morning. Ruby was in the living room, legs splayed on the rug, Sparklehorn tucked under one arm while she coloured with deep, determined scribbles.

Azzi turned off the faucet and wiped her hands on a dish towel. Another knock came, louder this time, followed by a familiar voice.

“It’s us! We come in peace! But with snacks!”

Azzi furrowed her brows and stepped to the door. When she opened it, she found Caroline and Ines standing on the front step like they’d just wandered out of a sitcom. Caroline was holding a bag of chips, Ines had a shoebox stuffed with markers and glue sticks, and both of them were smiling like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hi,” Caroline said. “We brought art therapy.”

“And sugar,” Ines added. “One for your heart, one for your bloodstream.”

Azzi blinked. “You guys didn’t have to—”

“Exactly why we did,” Caroline said, brushing past her and into the house like she’d lived there all her life. “We figured you might be having a rough week, so we’re here to play backup.”

Ines followed, giving Azzi’s shoulder a soft squeeze as she passed. “We missed you. And Ruby. And Sparklehorn. Mostly Sparklehorn.”

“I’m… fine,” Azzi said, shutting the door slowly behind them.

“You’re allowed to not be fine,” Caroline called over her shoulder. “But either way, you’re stuck with us now.”

They reached the living room just as Ruby looked up from her spot on the floor.

She gasped like she was seeing celebrities. “Ines! Caroline!”

Ines dropped to her knees and held out her arms. “There’s our girl!”

Ruby sprinted across the rug and launched herself into a hug. “You came to my house!”

“We brought royal supplies,” Caroline said, kneeling down and flipping open the art box. “Paint pens. Glitter glue. Foam stickers shaped like cupcakes.”

Ruby’s eyes went wide. “This is the best day ever.”

Azzi lingered at the edge of the room, watching as Ruby immediately took charge. Within thirty seconds, she had Ines sorting markers by color, Caroline unrolling sheets of butcher paper, and Sparklehorn seated regally atop a folded towel throne.

“This one’s the dragon,” Ruby explained, holding up a picture with swirls of fire. “And this one’s Team Sparklehorn. It’s Mama and Paigey and me. And Sparklehorn’s our captain.”

“Obviously,” Ines said, very seriously.

“I want to draw a castle,” Ruby announced. “But you have to help me.”

“Absolutely,” Caroline said, already grabbing crayons.

As Ruby handed out assignments, she paused mid-command and looked between them thoughtfully. “Hey. What do I call you?”

Caroline blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Like… I call Paige “Paigey”, and Mama is Mama. But what do you want to be?”

Ines smiled gently. “What do you want to call us?”

Ruby thought for a second, tapping her chin with a glitter pen. “Can I call you Aunty Ines?”

Ines lit up. “I would love that.”

“And Aunty Caroline?” Ruby asked shyly, turning to her.

Caroline’s voice softened. “That might be the best title I’ve ever gotten.”

Ruby beamed, clearly pleased with herself, and leaned back into Ines’s side. “Okay. Aunty Ines and Aunty Caroline. You’re on my team now.”

Caroline bumped her shoulder gently. “We’ve always been on your team, squirt.”

“Team Sparklehorn forever,” Ruby declared, raising a marker like a sword.

Azzi sat on the couch, arms crossed over her stomach, trying not to smile too much. But she couldn’t help it. Watching them, Ruby so at ease, Caroline and Ines folding into her world like they’d always belonged—it filled some aching part of her chest that had been too tight for days.

At one point, Ruby crawled over and leaned back against her legs. “Mama, look! Aunty Ines is making Sparklehorn a crown!”

“I see that,” Azzi murmured, gently brushing a hand through her curls. “It looks perfect.”

“And Aunty Caroline is doing her makeup.”

Caroline held up a glitter sticker and stuck it to Sparklehorn’s cheek. “It’s a bold but classy look.”

Ruby giggled and twisted around so she was sitting between Azzi’s knees. “You can colour too, Mama.”

Azzi looked down at her, then at the pile of markers, then at Caroline’s glittered nose, and finally—finally—let out a quiet laugh.

“Alright. What’s my assignment?”

Ruby handed her a sheet of paper. “Draw the heart castle.”

Azzi took the paper and settled back. “Got it.”

And as the living room buzzed with colouring and tiny voices and bits of chaos, something in her chest unknotted. Just a little. Just enough.

She wasn't alone.

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

The front door creaked open just after three.

Paige stepped inside quietly, easing the door shut behind her as she shrugged her backpack off one shoulder. She looked tired in the effortless, end-of-day kind of way — her UConn hoodie rumpled, sweatpants loose at the waist, hair twisted up in a messy knot like she’d barely managed it between class and the drive over.

She was still adjusting to the sudden shift in temperature when she heard it — the thundering of small feet, the sharp patter of excitement racing down the hallway.

“Paigey!”

A blur of rainbow leggings and wild curls launched itself across the living room. Ruby hit full speed as she rounded the corner, Sparklehorn bouncing against her side with each stride.

Paige dropped her bag without hesitation and opened her arms just in time to catch her. Ruby flung herself into the embrace, and Paige lifted her easily, laughing as she spun them both around once, then again, until Ruby squealed. Sparklehorn nearly slipped from her grasp mid-spin, but Ruby clung tighter, breathless and glowing.

“There’s my girl,” Paige said warmly, adjusting her hold and nuzzling her cheek. “Were you painting the whole house again, or just this room?”

“No,” Ruby giggled breathlessly. “We’re saving the rainbow castle. Aunty Ines is helping me make sparkle bombs.”

“Obviously,” Paige murmured with a grin, eyes drifting across the room as she shifted Ruby in her arms.

And then she saw her.

Azzi was sitting on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, posture relaxed but gaze alert and the moment their eyes met, Paige forgot everything else.

She forgot about the art supplies on the floor, the marker-streaked coffee table, even Ruby still chattering in her arms. Her entire body stilled, drawn magnetically to the warmth blooming in Azzi’s face — the soft, caught smile, the subtle reach of her fingers toward the sleeve of her sweater like she always did when Paige looked at her too long.

Caroline glanced up from where she was laying out construction paper on the rug. She followed Paige’s gaze, then bumped her knee gently into Ines. “There it is,” she murmured under her breath.

Ines smirked. “They don’t even know we’re here anymore.”

Ruby tilted her head, eyes flicking between Paige and the couch. “Paigey, are you frozen?”

Paige blinked and smiled again, pulling herself back to the room. “Nope. Just... absorbing the scene.”

She set Ruby down gently, smoothing her hair and brushing a little glitter off her cheek. “Looks like y’all started without me.”

“Art waits for no one,” Caroline said sweetly, her nose dotted with a smear of silver paint. “We’ve turned your girlfriend's living room into a national monument.”

“We’re making Sparklehorn a wedding dress,” Ines added, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “There’s a lot of tulle involved.”

Ruby darted back to the floor, immediately climbing into Ines’s lap like she belonged there. “She’s marrying Kelvin. He’s a dragon with a secret lab.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like high-stakes.”

Still smiling, she crossed the room toward Azzi without breaking stride. She sat down beside her on the couch and leaned in without preamble, brushing a kiss to her lips — soft, casual, lingering just long enough to draw a quiet hitch of breath from Azzi’s chest.

Azzi blinked up at her, dazed but smiling. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Paige whispered back. Her hand found Azzi’s knee, thumb brushing absent circles over the fabric of her jeans. “You good?”

Azzi nodded. “They just showed up.”

“I love them for that,” Paige murmured, glancing toward the art chaos on the floor.

Azzi let out a small breath. “I kinda do too.”

They sat like that for a moment — close, steady, with the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling. Paige tilted her body slightly so her shoulder touched Azzi’s, letting herself settle into the warmth of her without pulling focus from the rest of the room.

Across the living room, Caroline pretended to cough. “We can leave if you need the couch.”

Ines didn’t look up from her glitter scissors. “Yeah, we’ve got a backyard full of chalk and zero supervision.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, biting back a laugh. “We’re fine right here.”

Paige didn’t even blink. “Public space,” she called over. “Completely neutral territory.”

“Neutral,” Ines repeated, amused. “Sure. Except for the way you were looking at her like she’s the sun.”

Paige shrugged. “She is.”

Azzi’s cheeks flushed a deeper pink, and she ducked her head slightly but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned closer. Paige took that as her win.

They sat like that for another few seconds before Ruby piped up again from the floor.

“Okay! Now we need flower petals for the aisle, and Sparklehorn says the dress has to have diamonds!”

“Coming right up,” Ines said, handing her a sheet of glitter stickers.

As Ruby resumed her royal planning, the room filled with movement and colour again, but Paige and Azzi stayed quietly nestled on the couch, just out of reach but entirely present.

No one said it, but everyone felt it: the ease was back.

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

By the time Ruby declared that Sparklehorn’s wedding crown was complete, there were five different kinds of glitter embedded into the living room carpet. The coffee table was buried in markers, glue sticks, and paper scraps. The couch pillows had been rearranged into a “royal observation tower,” and someone, probably Caroline, had stuck two rhinestones to Sparklehorn’s horn like earrings.

Caroline stood, stretching her arms overhead. “Alright, tiny queen. I think Sparklehorn’s ready for her bachelorette weekend.”

Ruby giggled, adjusting the purple scarf tied around Sparklehorn’s neck. “She says thank you for your service.”

“You’re welcome,” Ines replied, giving a dramatic little bow before gently nudging Ruby’s elbow. “You wanna show us your chalk dragon out back before it gets dark?”

Ruby gasped, suddenly remembering the half-finished mural she’d started earlier that morning. “Yes! I need to finish the wings!”

She turned toward the couch, Sparklehorn tucked under her arm like a purse. “Mama, Paigey, we’ll be outside, ‘kay?”

Azzi nodded, brushing a curl back from her face. “Just stay where we can see you from the window.”

Caroline tossed her hoodie on and reached for the back door. “We’ve got her. Come on, Sparklehorn security detail.”

The three of them stepped out into the backyard, their laughter following them through the screen door. Paige watched until it latched behind them, then turned her gaze back to the room. The moment felt quiet now, a different kind of stillness, not heavy like the silence from earlier in the week, but soft. Safe.

She rose from the couch and offered her hand. “Come on. Let’s clean up the glitter apocalypse.”

Azzi groaned quietly but took it. “You know Sparklehorn’s probably shedding rhinestones into the furniture now.”

“I’m choosing not to think about it.”

They started on the living room together, moving around each other with a kind of ease that didn’t need direction. Paige collected crumpled drawings and scraps of gluey paper from under the table while Azzi uncapped markers and dropped them into a lopsided mason jar. Every so often their hands would brush — brief, quiet touches that lingered longer than they needed to.

Azzi knelt to pick a foam star out of the rug, her fingers brushing glitter off the hem of her jeans. “They’ve been good for her,” she said quietly, eyes focused on the floor. “Caroline and Ines. It’s like… she doesn’t even hesitate around them.”

“She trusts them,” Paige said softly, moving behind her to fluff the displaced couch pillows. “And they clearly adore her.”

Azzi paused. “It’s just… I didn’t expect it to feel so normal. For her to feel this safe with people I’ve barely let into our world.”

Paige glanced over at her, watching the tension in her shoulders shift. “You let the right people in, Az. She’s a great judge of character. Just like her mama.”

Azzi looked up at her then, something flickering in her expression, somewhere between surprise and softness. Paige held her gaze for a moment before turning back toward the mess. She grabbed Sparklehorn’s pink plastic tiara from the armrest and placed it on the windowsill gently, like it was made of glass.

“Hey,” she said, voice low but steady. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Azzi looked up again, standing now with a handful of colouring pages stacked under one arm. “What’s up?”

Paige hesitated, chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek. “This weekend. It’s a long weekend, right? No practice, no classes, no games.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Well,” Paige began, moving a little closer. “I was thinking. What if we got out of here for a few days? Just… took a break. Somewhere quieter.”

Azzi’s brows knit together, uncertain but listening. “Where would we even go?”

Paige didn’t look away. “Maryland. My dad's place. I already texted them, including Drew. They’d love to see me, and I told them I wanted them to meet you. Both of you.”

Azzi froze for a second. “You mean—me and Ruby?”

“Of course,” Paige said, her voice softening even more. “You’re my girls.”

Azzi looked down at the pages in her hands. One was a drawing of a purple castle with Sparklehorn standing on the roof. She set it aside slowly. “Are you sure? I mean… are they ready for that? For all of this?”

Paige took another step closer until she was right in front of her. “They’ve been asking about you for months. And I know it’s not the same as seeing someone online through FaceTime or hearing about them over the phone. But I want you to meet them because you matter. Both of you. You’re not a secret to me. You’re my life.”

Azzi blinked once, twice, the weight of those words landing somewhere deep in her chest. Her voice was quieter now, almost unsure. “You already booked the tickets, didn’t you?”

Paige smiled a little. “I did. I used miles. We’d fly out early Thursday, come back Monday. Just enough time to unplug. No headlines. No cameras. Just real air and space.”

Azzi took a slow breath. “Ruby’s never been on a plane before.”

“We’ll make it easy for her,” Paige said. “She’s been asking to see the sky clouds, remember? It’ll be an adventure. You, me, and Sparklehorn in a security line.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, the tension in her body finally beginning to ease. “You planned this whole thing.”

“I wanted to give you something to look forward to,” Paige said. “And honestly, I wanted an excuse to show you off.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but her smile curved quietly. “That’s gross.”

“You love it.”

“I really do.”

They stood there for a moment, close enough to touch but not quite, hearts thrumming in the space between them. Through the kitchen window, they could see Ruby twirling in a circle with Caroline, chalk dust puffing off her sleeves as Ines drew wings on the driveway.

Paige reached out and took Azzi’s hand again. “So… is that a yes?”

Azzi laced their fingers together and gave her a look that was all affection, all trust, all yes.

“Let’s go meet your family,” she said. “Me and my unicorn.”

Paige leaned in and kissed her again, a little deeper this time — not rushed, not dramatic. Just certain. Like she already knew they were headed exactly where they were supposed to be.

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

By the time Paige and Azzi stepped out into the backyard, the sun was already dipping behind the trees, casting long golden beams across the grass. The air had cooled just enough to raise goosebumps, but the energy outside was warm, buzzing with leftover laughter and the scent of crushed sidewalk chalk.

Ruby knelt near the patio, face flushed and focused, scribbling furiously with a pink chalk nub clutched in her fist. Sparklehorn was perched in a lawn chair behind her, wrapped in a sparkly scarf and wearing a paper crown that had definitely been taped together with glitter glue.

Caroline stood off to the side with her hands on her hips, inspecting the scene like an art critic. Ines was crouched next to Ruby, her cheek smudged with a streak of blue chalk, nodding seriously as Ruby added one final swirl.

“Okay!” Ruby called, tossing the chalk into a bucket with dramatic flair. “Now you can come look! But don’t step on the wings!”

Paige and Azzi exchanged a look, half amusement, half bracing themselves, before carefully stepping onto the path.

Ruby pointed like a tour guide. “This is the rainbow wedding! See? That’s Sparklehorn. She’s the princess. And that’s Kelvin. He’s a flying dragon with science powers. And this is the sky bridge! It’s only for true love people.”

The mural stretched across nearly the whole patio, a wild explosion of color and shapes and sparkles. Sparklehorn was drawn with purple chalk and had three tiaras. Kelvin was blue with extra-long wings and little hearts coming out of his fire. There were stars and castles and a rainbow arching over the whole scene like a giant pastel dome.

Azzi leaned in to inspect one section. “Is this Caroline?”

Ruby nodded. “Yep. She got a cloud bouquet.”

“And what’s Ines doing?”

“She’s spinning me!” Ruby said, giggling. “We’re throwing flower petals and Sparklehorn’s flying down the aisle.”

Ines squinted. “Who’s that up there with the glasses and the big cape?”

“Oh, that’s Nika,” Ruby said seriously. “She’s the wedding lady. She’s gonna do the talking. Like, ‘Do you pick Sparklehorn to be your dragon forever?’”

Caroline tilted her head. “Why Nika?”

Ruby shrugged. “She’s bossy but nice. That’s how wedding ladies are.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh and bent down to kiss Ruby’s temple. “She’ll love that.”

Paige crouched beside her, brushing chalk dust off Ruby’s sleeve. “What about us? We’re in the drawing too.”

Ruby looked between them, thoughtful. “Well… maybe you and Mama could get married too.”

The words came out so simple, so direct, that both Azzi and Paige froze.

Azzi blinked. “Wait, what?”

Ruby gave a dramatic shrug, as if this was obvious. “You’re already my team. You sleep in the same bed. You kiss. That’s what married people do.”

Paige coughed, clearly caught off guard. “Wow.”

Caroline turned away, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Ines covered her mouth, trying not to snort.

Ruby kept going, oblivious. “I could throw flowers for you too! And Mama could wear a twirly dress. And Paigey could wear pants. And Sparklehorn could bring the rings in a basket. She already practiced.”

Azzi crouched and gently pulled Ruby into her arms, holding her tight. “Baby, that’s really sweet.”

Ruby rested her cheek on Azzi’s shoulder. “I just want you to be together forever.”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, and Paige reached out, brushing her fingers along Azzi’s arm.

“We’re working on it,” Paige said softly.

“You should do it soon,” Ruby whispered. “I wanna wear sparkly shoes.”

They stayed like that for a while, the three of them in a small tangle of knees and chalky clothes, tucked under a fading sky. The mural sprawled around them, full of dragons and crowns and rainbows. Somewhere behind them, Caroline quietly snapped a photo before stepping back again to give them space.

And in the center of it all, Azzi held her daughter close and let herself believe, even just for tonight, that some fairytales could be built with glitter and sidewalk chalk and truth spoken by a nearly three-year-old girl who saw the world exactly as it could be.

—--------------------

Wednesday Afternoon

The hum of game day buzzed through the walls.

Sneakers squeaked across the polished court outside, music thudded faintly through the speakers, and bursts of crowd noise filtered down the tunnel in waves, rising and falling like a heartbeat. Inside the locker room, the energy was more focused. The air was thick with anticipation, the smell of muscle rub and fresh tape. Jerseys were being pulled on, laces tied, headphones adjusted.

Paige sat at her locker, taping her fingers methodically, earbuds in but music paused. She was already in game mode, half-tuned into the world, half zoned in on what was coming.

Across the room, Azzi sat quietly, tying her shoes with careful precision. Her movements were slow, almost hesitant. Her brows were slightly furrowed, and though she hadn’t said much since they’d walked in, Paige had clocked the shift in her energy almost immediately.

They both knew why.

Ruby wasn’t here.

The decision had been made the day before, after a quiet conversation with Coach and UConn PR. After Darshay’s unexpected reappearance, everyone agreed it was better... safer for Ruby to sit this one out. No headlines. No risks. Just one game watched from afar.

Still, it stung.

Azzi’s phone buzzed softly on the bench beside her. She glanced at it, and for the first time that hour, her face shifted into something lighter.

Incoming FaceTime: Katie (mum)

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the phone, stepped just out of the way of the main lockers, and hit “accept.”

Ruby’s face filled the screen, upside down and way too close. Her curls were wild, cheeks flushed, Sparklehorn clutched tight in one arm. “Mamaaaa!”

Azzi’s whole face softened. “Hi, baby.”

Paige looked up across the room, smiling despite herself.

“Look!” Ruby yelled. The camera flipped around clumsily to show a blanket fort made out of two chairs and a tablecloth. “I made the game tunnel! Me and Sparklehorn are doing team huddles!”

Azzi laughed, adjusting the phone angle. “Wow. That’s some serious pregame prep.”

Ruby flipped the camera back to her face, tilting her head dramatically. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Azzi admitted.

“I’m not,” Ruby said with a serious nod. “I told Sparklehorn we’re gonna win by a gazillion. And I saved your lucky snack. The pink gummy.”

Azzi smiled, her heart aching in the way only Ruby could make it ache. “Thanks, baby. I miss you.”

“I miss you more,” Ruby whispered. “You need your kiss now?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I really do.”

Ruby puckered her lips with full toddler dramatics, holding the kiss for three full seconds before declaring, “Double good luck! That means no airballs!”

Azzi laughed again, quietly this time. “Thank you, Coach Ruby. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mama,” Ruby said, yawning a little. “Tell Paigey she better dunk it.”

Paige called from across the room without looking up, “You got it, kiddo!”

Ruby squealed. “Go Huskies!”

Azzi ended the call gently, pressing the phone to her chest for a second before setting it down.

She stood still for a beat, shoulders rising and falling with a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Paige walked over, silent until she was close enough to touch. She leaned back against the locker next to Azzi and bumped her shoulder softly.

“You okay?”

Azzi nodded, but her eyes were shiny. “I just… I hate that she’s not here. I know it’s the right call, I do. But this is the first time I’ve played since… all of it. And she’s not in the stands.”

Paige reached over and hooked her pinky with Azzi’s. “She’s in the tunnel, babe. She’s watching from her fort. Probably giving Sparklehorn play-by-plays.”

Azzi let out a shaky laugh. “She told me no airballs.”

“Well,” Paige said, giving her a crooked grin, “you better get it together then. That’s the boss talking.”

Azzi leaned against her a little, letting herself soak in the calm that always seemed to radiate from Paige on game days. Paige shifted closer, bumping her knee. “And hey. You still got your good luck kiss.”

“Yeah,” Azzi said softly. “But I could use another one.”

Paige tilted her head. “From me?”

“Obviously.”

Paige stepped in slowly, gaze flicking down to Azzi’s lips. “How hard do I need to kiss you for a triple-double?”

Azzi laughed through her nose, her smile finally breaking through. “Just kiss me, Bueckers.”

And so she did — quick and sweet, but enough to settle something low in Azzi’s chest. It was nothing flashy, just familiar. Certain. The kind of kiss you gave someone who made you feel like yourself again.

The locker room buzzed around them, but in that moment, everything narrowed down to this: the steady thrum of trust, the hum of energy between them, the echo of Ruby’s voice still warm in their ears.

Azzi pulled back, already feeling lighter, when Paige gave her a look, one of those crooked little smiles she wore when she was about to be annoying on purpose.

“What?” Azzi asked.

Paige tilted her head. “I’m just saying… you got your kiss.”

Azzi blinked. “Yeah?”

Paige leaned in a little, her voice low but playful. “So where’s mine?”

Azzi huffed out a laugh, but her face warmed. “You want me to kiss you for your good luck?”

Paige shrugged, all mock innocence. “Seems fair. I’ve got a stat sheet to fill too, baby.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she stepped forward anyway, gripping the collar of Paige’s warmup shirt and pulling her in just enough to press a kiss against her jaw. Soft, lingering, warm.

Paige didn’t even try to hide the grin that bloomed across her face.

“There,” Azzi said, tugging lightly at the hem of Paige’s shirt before stepping back. “Now we’re even.”

“Not even close,” Paige murmured, but her voice was all affection.

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

The buzzer had barely sounded when Coach Geno motioned for Paige and Azzi to hang back near the end of the bench. The team huddled briefly on the court, cheers still ringing through the arena as the other players headed toward the tunnel, sweat-drenched and flying high off the win.

Geno stepped closer, lowering his voice beneath the noise.

“You two, skip media tonight.”

Azzi blinked. “What?”

He gave them both a look, firm but not unkind. “It’s handled. PR’s running point. They know Darshay’s name doesn’t come up. But I don’t want either of you sitting under lights answering questions that don’t matter right now. Go shower. Go pack. I’ll tell the reporters you had family business.”

Paige hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Geno nodded once. “This team’s got your back. I got your back.”

Azzi’s chest tightened as Paige reached out and briefly touched Geno’s arm in quiet thanks. Neither of them said much as they made their way through the tunnel, but the relief between them was obvious.

They left the arena without press interruptions, walking side by side under the purple-orange wash of twilight. Their bodies ached in the good way — muscles sore and buzzing from the game. Paige carried her duffel lazily over one shoulder, while Azzi tugged at the strap of her backpack with one hand, the other brushing the edge of Paige’s hoodie every now and then without even thinking about it.

“So,” Paige said casually, glancing sideways as they turned toward the dorms. “You packed already?”

“For Ruby? Yeah,” Azzi said, the mum-tone kicking in automatically. “Snacks, blanket, tablet, headphones, backup Sparklehorn, crayons, and the emergency glitter pouch. It’s all in her little carry-on.”

Paige smirked. “So she’s more ready than me.”

“She’s been ready since last night,” Azzi added with a fond smile. “She told me she’s gonna wear her unicorn hoodie through security so they know she’s magical.”

“She’s not wrong.”

They climbed the steps to Paige’s dorm in companionable silence. When they got inside, Paige dropped her bag on the floor and turned toward Azzi with that familiar glint in her eye.

“You know,” she said slowly, “we could get started on packing. Or…”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Or?”

Paige shrugged, voice lower now. “We could shower first. For, like, practical hygiene reasons.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And also,” Paige added as she stepped closer, resting her hands lightly on Azzi’s hips, “because you’re hot when you win and I’d like to be clean and naked next to you.”

Azzi groaned. “You’re the worst.”

“But so charming.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite herself, and nudged Paige toward the bathroom. “Start the water. I’m not showering in a freezing dorm stall.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The water was running within seconds, steam curling into the air and fogging the mirror. The tiny bathroom wasn’t luxurious by any means, but none of that mattered as Azzi peeled off her jersey and stepped in behind Paige. The stall was barely big enough for both of them, but they fit like muscle memory.

Azzi tilted her face into the spray and let the water run down her spine. Her breath softened, easing out of her chest like it had been waiting for hours. Paige stood behind her, fingertips gliding gently along Azzi’s waist as she leaned forward to press a kiss to the slope of her shoulder.

They didn’t say much.

There wasn’t a need.

Paige washed Azzi’s back carefully, running a soapy hand over each shoulder blade, down the ridges of her arms, the curve of her spine. Azzi let herself melt into the touch, eyes closed, breath syncing with Paige’s like they were tethered by the same current.

When Azzi finally turned to face her, the water streaked down both of their cheeks, their hair curling damp around flushed skin. Paige lifted her hand to cup Azzi’s jaw, brushing her thumb across her cheekbone.

“I’m proud of you,” Paige murmured. “For tonight. For everything.”

Azzi looked at her for a long moment, something quiet and open in her expression.

Then she kissed her.

It wasn’t a kiss that demanded anything — just a kiss that said thank you, that said I’m with you, that said I love this with you, and I love you in it.

They stepped out of the shower warm and clean, wrapped in towels and a kind of quiet that felt like safety. Paige pulled on a soft tank top and shorts while Azzi slipped into one of Paige’s oversized t-shirts and dried her curls as best she could with the little towel Paige handed her.

“Okay,” Paige said, moving back into the room, “let’s finish packing so we can get back to your place.”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Ruby’s probably already in pajamas waiting for us.”

Paige grinned. “Think she’ll sleep tonight or be too excited?”

Azzi gave her a look. “She packed Sparklehorn’s toothbrush. She’s gonna crash early from the stress.”

They both laughed softly and crouched down together by Paige’s suitcase. She already had most of her things laid out — clothes, shoes, chargers, travel snacks. Azzi helped with the last few pieces, folding a hoodie and zipping up the sides while Paige tucked her AirPods into the front pocket.

When they were done, Azzi leaned forward without a word and wrapped her arms around Paige’s waist, burying her face in her shoulder. Paige didn’t even flinch — just pulled her in tighter, her hand resting against the small of Azzi’s back.

“Thank you for doing this,” Azzi whispered, her voice barely audible. “For making it feel like… like we’re allowed to breathe again.”

Paige didn’t respond right away. She just turned and pressed her lips gently to Azzi’s temple, then down to the corner of her mouth. The kiss was slow, deliberate, tender in the kind of way that didn’t ask for anything back. Just love. Just care.

Azzi leaned into it, then kissed her again, one more, softer, this time with her hand cupping Paige’s jaw.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t even spoken.

But it was hers.

And it was enough.

Or, it could have been — until Paige’s fingers slid just slightly along the edge of Azzi’s thigh, her thumb tracing that soft skin above the hem of the borrowed t-shirt. Azzi’s breath hitched. She looked up at Paige, eyes darker now, lips parted slightly.

Paige leaned in again, this time slower, her lips brushing just below Azzi’s ear. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m not gonna make it to morning.”

Azzi smirked, fingers curling around the hem of Paige’s shirt, tugging her closer. “So don’t.”

Paige’s hands slid to her waist, and for a second it was all pressure — warm breath, damp skin, tension tugging at every seam between them. Azzi’s nails dragged lightly across Paige’s back, and Paige let out a low sound that definitely wasn’t PG.

But just as Azzi started to shift into her lap, Paige stopped. Just for a second.

She pressed her forehead to Azzi’s and groaned. “God, I want to. You have no idea.”

Azzi blinked, dazed and breathless. “So what’s stopping you?”

Paige let out a quiet, reluctant laugh. “She’s probably in her unicorn pajamas right now waiting for us to tuck her in. If we’re even ten minutes late, she’ll claim Sparklehorn got worried.”

Azzi exhaled, half a sigh, half a laugh and nodded. “Right. Ruby.”

Paige kissed her again, quick and lingering. “She comes first.”

Azzi softened. “Yeah. She does.”

But as Paige stood and reached for her bag, she threw one last glance over her shoulder, the kind that promised unfinished business.

“Just so you know,” she said, voice low, playful, and entirely serious, “when we get back from Maryland… I’m not letting you get away with teasing me like that again.”

Azzi smiled slowly, grabbing her bag and following her out the door. “Good.”

They left the dorm together, the air cooler now, their fingers brushing again like always. And somewhere across town, a little girl in sparkly pajamas was probably waiting with Sparklehorn tucked under her arm, wondering what kind of adventures the next morning would bring.

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

The ride from campus to Azzi’s place was quiet and easy, the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling. Paige drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on Azzi’s thigh. The soft hum of the car and the rhythm of the tires against the road settled them into a familiar calm, even as the anticipation of the morning flight hung quietly between them.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, most of the neighbourhood was already dark. The porch light was on, a soft yellow glow against the steps. Through the front window, a flicker of the living room TV lit up the edges of the curtains. Inside, Ruby was already winding down with a blanket over her lap and Sparklehorn tucked tight against her chest, cartoon voices echoing faintly from the speakers.

Azzi unlocked the door quietly, peeking in first. Ruby’s head popped up the second she heard the latch click.

“Mama!” she whisper-yelled, dramatically flinging her blanket off as she ran full-speed to the door.

Azzi crouched to meet her, arms open.

“Hi, baby,” she whispered as Ruby launched into her arms.

Paige stepped inside just behind them, closing the door gently, and grinning at the sight. Ruby twisted in Azzi’s hold to reach toward Paige.

“Paigey! We won the game, right?”

Paige chuckled, already reaching for her. “Crushed it.”

Ruby stretched toward her, and Paige scooped her up in one smooth motion, spinning her gently until Ruby giggled and clung to her neck.

“I missed you,” Ruby said into her shoulder.

“We missed you too,” Paige murmured, holding her close, but her eyes were already fixed on Azzi. Soft. Warm. Stubbornly in love.

Ines and Caroline would’ve had a field day with it if they were here. Paige didn’t care.

Ruby babbled all the way back to the couch about Sparklehorn’s bedtime adventure and how she saved a fake worm from the laundry room. Azzi turned the TV off with a smile and promised to read her a book if she brushed her teeth for two minutes, which Ruby declared was “easy-peasy for a big girl almost three.”

Once she was back in pajamas and freshly scrubbed, they all headed to her room together. Paige settled Ruby into bed while Azzi tucked the unicorn beside her pillow, fluffing the sparkly mane as if Sparklehorn herself needed proper sleeping posture.

Paige sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed a hand over Ruby’s hair. “You excited for tomorrow, baby?”

Ruby nodded so fast her curls bounced. “Mhm. Gonna go on the big airplane! Gonna fly with the clouds!”

Azzi leaned on the frame of the doorway, watching the two of them.

“And who are we going to see?” Paige asked, eyes twinkling.

“Drew!” Ruby squealed. “And your daddy! And Drew’s gonna teach me how to win at Fort-kite.”

“Fortnite,” Paige corrected gently, grinning.

“Yeah, that one,” Ruby said seriously. “He said I can build a sparkle house.”

Paige laughed and bent to kiss her forehead. “He’s gonna love that.”

Azzi came over and kissed the other side of Ruby’s head. “You’ve got your hoodie, your snacks, and your colouring stuff all packed. Ready for the adventure?”

Ruby nodded again, clutching Sparklehorn tight. “Can I sit by the window?”

“Of course, baby,” Azzi said. “Window seat is all yours.”

After hugs, kisses, and one final reminder from Ruby that Sparklehorn had “never been on a plane before,” the lights were dimmed and the door gently pulled shut.

Back in Azzi’s room, the quiet wrapped around them like a blanket. Her suitcase sat half-open at the foot of the bed, a few clothes already folded neatly inside, enough to show she’d prepped Ruby’s essentials in advance, down to a small pouch labelled snacks for ears with toddler-size gum and biscuits for the plane.

Paige took off her shoes and sat down on the carpet beside the suitcase. “Okay. Boss me around. What’s left?”

Azzi smiled and dropped to the floor behind her, then slid into Paige’s lap without hesitation. “You’re already doing it. Keep going.”

Paige blinked, amused. “You just gonna sit here and cuddle while I pack for you?”

“Yep.”

“And you call Ruby spoiled.”

Azzi hummed and curled her arms around Paige’s waist. “She learned from the best.”

Paige laughed under her breath but kept going, folding soft hoodies and rolled-up leggings, sliding in toiletries, and triple-checking that Azzi had remembered her ID. Every time she shifted forward to reach something, Azzi shifted with her — like they were tethered, like her weight on Paige’s lap made the space feel anchoured somehow.

“This is the best packing method,” Azzi murmured eventually, resting her chin on Paige’s shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like it.”

Paige didn’t deny it. Instead, she leaned back just enough to kiss the corner of Azzi’s mouth. “You’re all set. Sparklehorn’s passport is in the side pocket.”

Azzi smiled sleepily. “Then we’re ready.”

The bags were zipped. The house was quiet. And Ruby — their fearless, glitter-crazed, magical daughter — was fast asleep down the hall, dreaming of sparkle houses and high-altitude unicorn adventures.

Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be okay,” she said softly. “Tomorrow, and after that. You know that, right?”

Azzi nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I do.”

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

The alarm went off at 5:15 a.m., chirping softly from Paige’s phone on the nightstand. It was still dark outside, the kind of thick, early quiet that made the world feel like it hadn’t quite woken up yet. A chill settled low in the room, the kind that made slipping out from under the covers feel like a betrayal.

Paige didn’t move.

Azzi was already up — technically — sitting propped against the headboard with her hair tucked in a loose braid, scrolling through her checklist one last time. But Paige stayed curled at her side, arm draped across Azzi’s stomach, face tucked somewhere against her ribs like a human blanket with a grudge.

“Baby,” Azzi whispered, brushing the backs of her fingers across Paige’s cheek.

“No,” came the muffled reply.

Azzi laughed softly, shifting so she could run her fingers gently through Paige’s hair. “We have a flight to catch. Ruby’s already up.”

Paige burrowed deeper into her side. “She’s three. She’ll forget.”

“She’s not even three yet, and she already reminded me that Sparklehorn packed first,” Azzi said gently. “C’mon, sleepy. You gotta get up.”

Paige groaned. “You’re warm. I’m staying right here.”

Azzi leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then her temple, then just below her jaw. “I’ll warm you up again later,” she promised, voice soft. “But right now we need to go play airplane with the sparkle queen.”

That earned a reluctant laugh. Paige opened one eye, gaze a little blurry but adoring. “Why are you so good to me?”

Azzi kissed her again. “Because you let me love you.”

Paige didn’t argue after that.

Down the hall, Ruby was wide awake and narrating her outfit to Sparklehorn, something about “big girl socks” and how today she was dressing “airplane brave.” She lit up the moment Paige entered the room with a yawn and a hoodie, launching into her arms and declaring her hoodie was “not sparkly enough but still nice.”

They were out the door by six, Tim waving from the driver’s seat and Katie handing off a small thermos of coffee from the porch with a wink. “Don’t let her fall asleep before the plane takes off,” she warned Azzi, nodding toward Ruby. “Or she’ll be up the whole flight asking why the clouds aren’t pink.”

At the airport, things went mostly smoothly until they reached security.

Ruby clutched her unicorn carry-on like it held the secrets of the universe, lips trembling the moment the agent gestured toward it. “We just need to scan it, sweetheart,” the woman said kindly, reaching out.

But Ruby pulled back instantly, holding the bag to her chest. “No!” Her voice cracked. “Sparklehorn’s in there! And her toothbrush! And her snacks!”

Azzi knelt immediately beside her. “Baby, it’s okay. They’re just going to put it through the little machine so we can make sure it’s safe, okay?”

Ruby’s eyes filled, her body stiff with fear. “But what if they don’t give it back?”

Before Azzi could say anything else, Paige stepped in — calm, gentle, steady.

“Hey, hey,” she said, crouching beside both of them. “Look at me, Roo.”

Ruby sniffled, eyes still shining.

“I’m gonna walk your bag through the scanner myself,” Paige said. “I’ll stand right there and watch the whole time. Sparklehorn’s not going anywhere, okay? I promise.”

The agent nodded and knelt a little herself, smiling warmly. “And guess what? Sparklehorn gets to go on a special ride. We’ll keep her safe the whole time, promise.”

Ruby hesitated. Then, slowly, she held the bag out to Paige.

“Okay,” she whispered. “But only if you hold her hand the whole time.”

“I got her,” Paige said with a small smile. “I got both of you.”

They made it through without another hiccup. Once past security, Ruby climbed into Azzi’s lap at the gate and insisted on feeding her animal crackers one by one until boarding began. She took her window seat proudly, Sparklehorn buckled in next to her, and declared, “We’re flying to sky land now,” before yawning big and curling up with her hoodie pulled over half her face.

Fifteen minutes into the flight, she was fast asleep.

Azzi shifted slightly in her seat, careful not to wake her, and glanced down at her daughter with a mix of affection and fatigue. Her hand rested protectively on Ruby’s little leg. Paige, seated in the aisle seat, passed over one side of her AirPods and offered a quiet smile.

“Wanna listen?” she whispered.

Azzi nodded, accepting the earbud and leaning just slightly into her side. Paige’s playlist filtered in, mostly R&B. Comfort music.

A few songs passed like that — just quiet and shared.

At one point, Paige leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Azzi’s shoulder, her hand settling on Azzi’s thigh beneath the tray table. “You doing okay?” she whispered, lips brushing skin.

Azzi nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on Ruby. “I am now.”

Paige kissed her again — softer this time. “Good.”

They didn’t talk much after that. They just held onto each other, floating a few thousand feet above the noise, with Ruby asleep beside them and Sparklehorn keeping watch from the window.

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

The plane’s wheels touched down with a gentle thud, followed by a rush of engine hum and a soft, collective exhale from the cabin. Ruby stirred immediately, blinking awake as if her internal clock had been set for landing.

“Are we in the sky still?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“No, baby,” Azzi whispered, brushing a hand through her curls. “We just landed.”

“Where’s Drew?” she asked groggily, already craning her neck to look out the window. “Is he down there?”

Paige chuckled. “He’s not on the runway, Roo.”

Azzi smiled, but Paige caught the flicker in her expression — that subtle tightening in her jaw, the way she adjusted her posture as the other passengers began shuffling around them.

Nervous.

Azzi didn’t say anything, but Paige knew her well enough to feel the difference in her silence.

She reached over without thinking, her hand slipping beneath the armrest to rest against Azzi’s thigh, just a quiet, grounding touch. Azzi looked over and blinked at her, almost like she’d just remembered Paige was still there. Paige gave her a small smile — soft, steady — and Azzi nodded once, letting out a breath like it helped.

When it was their turn to stand and collect their bags, Paige kept her hand on Azzi’s lower back. When they stepped into the jet bridge, her fingers found Azzi’s again. And when Ruby started chattering about whether the airport had unicorn statues or not, Paige used the distraction to gently lean into Azzi’s side, guiding her through the flow of passengers without crowding her.

“You good?” Paige asked quietly as they moved toward baggage claim.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Then, finally, “I’m just… it’s a lot. I want them to like us.”

Paige squeezed her hand. “They already do. You know that, right?”

Azzi nodded, but Paige didn’t let go.

The terminal was buzzing with people — kids dragging backpacks, announcements over the loudspeaker, wheels of suitcases thudding against tile. Ruby skipped ahead a few paces, dragging Sparklehorn behind her by the leg, only to pause dramatically in front of a vending machine shaped like a rocket ship.

“Is that the spaceship we’re taking to Drew’s house?” she gasped.

Azzi actually laughed — a soft, real laugh, and Paige felt it in the way her fingers relaxed.

“No, baby,” Azzi said. “That’s just snacks.”

“Space snacks?”

“Sure,” Paige added. “Let’s call them that.”

They kept walking, and Paige didn’t let go of Azzi’s hand once.

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

They rounded the corner toward baggage claim, the tiled floor catching slants of afternoon light as rows of travellers leaned over silver carousels and checked their phones. Ruby clutched Azzi’s hand with one and Sparklehorn with the other, swinging both back and forth with increasing excitement.

“Do you think Drew will have snacks?” she asked, skipping a little. “He said he had a snack drawer.”

“I’m sure he does,” Azzi said with a smile. “Probably just for you.”

Paige walked beside them, wheeling one carry-on behind her, her other hand resting at the small of Azzi’s back. She didn’t say much, but she didn’t need to, she could feel the way Azzi kept glancing around, the faint but familiar restlessness that came with too much attention and too many people.

They were almost to the carousel when Ruby’s entire body jolted with energy.

“There he is!” she cried, nearly tripping over her unicorn rolling bag. “Drew!”

And then she was off, Sparklehorn dragging behind her by one limp glittery leg.

Azzi made a soft sound, half instinct, half alarm. “Wait, Ru—!”

But Paige caught her gently by the arm. “She’s okay,” she said, steady and close. “Look at her.”

Ruby was already barreling toward Drew, who had just spotted her over a line of luggage carts. His eyes widened with surprise before a grin split across his face, and he dropped the foam cup he was holding just in time to catch her flying hug.

“You’re real!” Ruby declared as her arms wrapped around his waist, almost knocking them both off balance. “You’re really here!”

Drew laughed, half-winded. “So are you! You’re way taller than the iPad said.”

“Sparklehorn came too,” Ruby added seriously, then whispered, “She’s shy.”

Bob, who had stepped in behind them, crouched gently and opened his arms. “Hey there, Ruby girl.”

She turned, eyes sparkling. “Hi Grandpa Bob!” she shouted, like they’d seen each other every day for years.

She wrapped her arms around his neck like she’d been waiting her whole life to do it.

Behind them, Azzi came to a stop and stood just out of the way, unsure of what to do with her hands. Paige leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“You okay?” she asked.

Azzi nodded, a little stunned. “She’s never like this with people she doesn’t know.”

“She does know them,” Paige murmured. “She just needed to see it in real life.”

Ruby pulled back from Bob, then turned and darted toward Azzi again. “Mama, come say hi!”

Azzi blinked, then stepped forward slowly, hand still caught in Paige’s.

Drew looked up at her — curious, excited, and completely unfiltered in the way ten-year-olds often were. “You’re Azzi,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“I am,” she said, a bit breathless.

He stepped up and gave her a sudden, fast hug — short and simple, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, but wanted to anyway.

“You’re cooler than you looked on FaceTime,” he said quickly, then looked at Paige. “She’s so tall in real life.”

“She’s always been tall,” Paige said, grinning.

Azzi laughed under her breath, not quite sure what to say, and then turned as Bob stepped forward, not with a handshake, but with open arms.

“Good to finally meet you, Azzi,” he said, warm and low.

She returned the hug, surprised again by how natural it felt. “It’s good to be here. Really.”

Bob pulled back just slightly and glanced between her and Paige, then down at Ruby, who had now taken Drew’s hand and was rambling about “sky gum” and juice boxes.

He didn’t say much just offered a small, knowing smile. “You’ve got a good crew,” he said quietly to Paige. “The way you look at them…”

Paige ducked her head, just a little. “I know.”

Bob nodded. “You’re softer than you used to be.”

Paige glanced over at Azzi, who was crouching now to zip up Ruby’s unicorn bag while Ruby told Drew a very long, very incorrect story about airplane turbulence. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Bob smiled. “It’s the best thing.”

A chime echoed over the intercom as the luggage carousel began to churn and thud. Paige let go of Azzi just long enough to grab their bags, and when she turned around, Azzi was already adjusting the strap on Ruby’s little backpack like it was second nature.

Paige didn’t say anything. She just walked over, looped her free arm around Azzi’s waist, and kissed her cheek.

“Let’s go home,” she murmured.

Azzi nodded, eyes shining.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s.”

As they stepped away from the bustle of baggage claim and into the calm hush of the terminal exit, the air outside was crisp and golden with afternoon light. The car sat just a few paces away from the curb, the trunk already open, Drew jogging ahead to help Bob load the suitcases while Ruby darted between them, still animated from the airport reunion.

Bob closed the trunk with a gentle thud and turned back toward Azzi. She was standing just beside Paige, her posture a touch hesitant again now that the quiet had settled around them. Maybe it was the way her fingers curled near her waistband, or how her gaze flicked between Ruby and the street like she was trying to take in too much all at once.

But Bob didn’t give her the space to linger in it.

He opened his arms, not dramatically, not forcefully, just warmly and said, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Azzi blinked, startled for a second. But then something in her seemed to ease, and she stepped forward without overthinking it, letting herself be pulled into a brief but solid hug. It was the kind of hug that didn’t ask for anything but offered reassurance anyway.

“Thank you for having us,” she said quietly into his shoulder.

Bob pulled back with a gentle pat to her back and a kind smile. “Anytime.”

Ruby had already claimed the middle seat in the back, arms crossed in determined ownership. “I’m gonna sit here ‘cause Sparklehorn needs both of you to keep her safe,” she declared, climbing in and buckling herself in with practiced drama.

Paige laughed and followed her, sliding in first so Azzi could sit on the other side. Ruby immediately passed Sparklehorn to Azzi like a sacred offering, then snuggled into her lap sideways with a sigh of exaggerated relief. “Now we’re all together.”

Drew climbed into the front passenger seat and immediately adjusted the side mirror like he had any reason to. “I call aux.”

“You don’t even have a phone,” Paige teased from the back.

“I brought my iPad,” he said smugly, already pulling up a playlist labelled VIBES WITH SPARKLEHORN.

Bob raised an eyebrow. “No songs with cursing.”

“I know,” Drew groaned. “You say that every time.”

Paige shifted in her seat, her thigh pressing lightly against Azzi’s, who sat with her head tilted back and one hand still gently holding Ruby’s leg. The kid was rambling now about what Sparklehorn wanted to eat for dinner and whether Drew had “real Fortnite snacks,” but Azzi barely looked away from the window.

“You okay?” Paige murmured near her ear, just low enough not to be overheard.

Azzi nodded slowly, then turned to meet her gaze. “Yeah. I really am.”

Paige smiled and reached over, brushing her knuckles lightly along Azzi’s jaw. “Good. Because this is your family too now, okay?”

Azzi didn’t reply with words. She just leaned in — not all the way, not dramatically, but enough. Enough that her forehead touched Paige’s temple and stayed there for a moment, long enough to settle something deep inside her chest.

In the front seat, Bob started the car. The radio came on low. The windows were down just enough to let in the evening breeze. And as they pulled away from the airport curb, Paige, Azzi, and Ruby sat tucked together in the backseat, bodies pressed close and warm. Ruby hummed softly, Sparklehorn now balanced on her lap, one foot resting lightly against Paige’s knee.

There were still things to face. Conversations to have. A world beyond this drive waiting for them.

But for now, everything felt full. Whole. Safe.

[mikkies]

「 NEVER THOUGHT I'D FIND YOU, BUT YOU'RE HERE, AND SO I LOVE YOU. 」

007n7 x GN! Reader (and C00lkidd I guess..)

warnings: none

notes: I got confused but.. 🫦

THE QUIET HUM of the room was accompanied by the soft scratching of pencil against paper, a gentle rhythm that matched the warmth surrounding you. You sat comfortably between 007n7’s legs, his arms lazily draped around you, his body a cocoon of warmth and familiarity. His head was nestled into the crook of your neck, his messy brown hair tickling your cheek with each soft, steady breath.

The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, a mixture of subtle spice and warmth, blending with the earthy hint of rain from earlier in the day. It grounded you, reminding you of him and everything you’d built together despite the chaos of your lives. Occasionally, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, the roughness of his stubble brushing your skin and sending a comforting shiver down your spine.

“What are you drawing?” His voice was low, almost a purr, as he peeked over your shoulder, his chin lightly resting there.

You chuckled, holding up the half-finished doodle of a little red humanoid doing an exaggerated, silly dance. “Guess.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, but before he could answer, the door to your shared room creaked open. The familiar sound drew both of your gazes toward the small figure standing in the doorway.

C00lkidd stood there, his crimson skin practically glowing against the soft light in the room. His dark red shirt, emblazoned with the bold words “Team C00lkidd Join Today!” hung slightly askew, and his blank pants were a little rumpled from an earlier adventure. In one hand, he clutched a stack of papers, and in the other, a stubby pencil that looked as though it had seen better days.

“I’m lonely,” he declared matter-of-factly, his tone both direct and endearing. Without waiting for an invitation, he made his way to the bed with a determined stride, climbing up and plopping himself beside you.

His crimson face scrunched as he glanced at your drawing. “Is that supposed to be me?” His tone teetered between offense and pride, as though he couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or annoyed.

You laughed, pulling him closer with one arm while 007n7 shifted slightly to make room for his son. “Of course! Who else could it be?”

C00lkidd gave a toothy grin that showcased his chaotic charm before squirming his way between you and his dad. He pressed his back against 007n7’s chest and spread his papers across the bed like an artist unveiling his gallery, quickly starting to scribble something with his usual unrestrained energy.

“You’re hogging all the space,” 007n7 muttered, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. He adjusted his hold on you, making sure you were still snug against him. Pressing his forehead gently against the back of your head, he murmured, “Looks like we’ve got a third wheel.”

C00lkidd looked up from his scribbling, his red eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’m the best wheel.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as the three of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. The bed became a chaotic nest of doodles, scattered pencils, and laughter. C00lkidd’s creative energy was infectious as he bounced between drawings, sometimes demanding you or 007n7 look at his latest masterpiece with an expectant grin.

“See? This one is me fighting a dragon!” he exclaimed, holding up a haphazard but undeniably charming drawing of a red figure wielding an oversized sword.

“That’s pretty epic,” 007n7 commented, his voice laced with pride as he ruffled his son’s red hair.

“Of course, it’s epic,” C00lkidd replied with mock seriousness. “It’s me.”

While C00lkidd scribbled furiously, occasionally stealing glances at your drawings, 007n7 occupied himself by tracing lazy patterns on your arm. His touch was gentle, almost absentminded, but it carried a sense of grounding that made you lean further into his embrace. Every so often, he pressed another kiss to your temple or murmured something soft against your hair, his voice a soothing lull that contrasted beautifully with C00lkidd’s excited chatter.

The room felt like its own little universe, insulated from the outside world. The mess of your lives, the chaos, the regrets—all of it faded into the background. Here, in this moment, you were simply a family, tangled together in warmth and love.

C00lkidd paused his frantic drawing to lean against you, his small, warm body pressing against your side. “You guys are so lucky to have me,” he announced, his voice filled with mock arrogance.

007n7 chuckled, his laugh rumbling softly against your back. “Yeah, we are, kid.”

“And I’m lucky to have you too,” C00lkidd added in a quieter voice, his chaotic energy momentarily replaced by sincerity.

The weight of his words settled over the three of you, filling the room with an even deeper sense of connection. You reached out, ruffling his hair affectionately as 007n7 tightened his hold around both of you.

In that moment, surrounded by warmth and love, it didn’t matter how broken or messy life was. Here, in this little pocket of time, you were whole.

[magical-reid]

Between the Lines (Part 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

Genre: Slow Burn

Warning: This was originally going to be one part so I hope there's no weird cuts

Time Line: Season 4 Timeline (but Eddie gets a happy ending!)

Summary: When Eddie Munson pulls you out of your shell, neither of you expect it to mean everything—until Hawkins turns against him, and you’re the only one still by his side. Through the chaos of the Upside Down, near-misses, and a battle for survival, Eddie realizes he can’t lose you—and this time, he’s never letting go.

Word Count: 5.4K

Hawkins High’s cafeteria was a battlefield. Jocks and cheerleaders occupied the best real estate, their laughter bouncing off the walls, while the outcasts huddled in their usual places, dodging judgmental stares. You, however, had perfected the art of blending in—head down, nose in a book, quietly existing on the fringes where no one paid much attention.

Or at least, that’s how it used to be, until Eddie Munson had noticed you.

It started small. A few glances from across the room, his dark eyes flicking toward you whenever he was in the middle of an exaggerated monologue for Hellfire Club. Then came the nods in the hallway, casual, like he was acknowledging an old friend instead of someone who barely spoke.

You weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was because you sat behind him in English, quietly scribbling notes while he ignored assignments in favor of doodling song lyrics in the margins of his notebook. Maybe he saw you watching his campaign speeches in the cafeteria, not judging like the others but listening, even if you never had the courage to join.

Or maybe Eddie Munson was just the kind of person who noticed people that the rest of the world ignored.

“Y/N, right?”

Your brain short-circuited. Eddie was standing in front of you, talking to you.

You had been preparing to leave the library when he appeared like some chaotic apparition, rings glinting as he drummed his fingers on the table. The question was casual, like he wasn’t shattering your entire routine by acknowledging your existence.

“Uh—yeah.” Your voice came out quieter than you wanted, and you mentally kicked yourself.

Eddie grinned like you’d just said something hilarious. “Knew it. I don’t forget a face.”

That wasn’t true. You’d heard him confidently call Dustin “Darwin” once and insist Steve Harrington’s name was actually “Stan.” But you let it slide, because your brain was still stuck on the fact that Eddie Munson was talking to you.

“You’re in Ms. O’Donnell’s class with me,” he continued, rocking on his heels. “You always look like you wanna be anywhere else.”

You did. English was a nightmare when participation counted, and your voice never seemed to work properly when put on the spot. But you hadn’t realized Eddie noticed.

“I, uh—I like the books,” you admitted, gripping the strap of your bag. “Just… not the talking part.”

Eddie’s smile softened. “Yeah, that tracks.” He cocked his head, studying you in a way that made your stomach flip. “So, if you’re into books, what’s stopping you from joining Hellfire?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I see you watching,” Eddie said, smirking as he leaned in conspiratorially. “You think I wouldn’t notice? You’re always listening when I’m giving my grand, Shakespearean-level speeches in the cafeteria.”

Your face burned. Had you been that obvious?

Eddie’s grin widened at your reaction. “So, you like stories. You like fantasy. That tells me you’d probably love Dungeons & Dragons.” He paused, then added dramatically, “And yet, you never come sit with us. Tragic, really.”

You fiddled with the hem of your sweater, struggling to find words that wouldn’t make you sound ridiculous. You had thought about it. More than once. But joining Hellfire meant attention, meant speaking up, meant being looked at. And that terrified you.

Eddie seemed to sense your hesitation because his voice turned softer, teasing but not unkind. “Tell you what—I won’t force you. But if you ever get tired of being a background character, there’s a seat at the table for you.”

You swallowed hard.

A part of you wanted to say no, to retreat back into the safety of anonymity. But another part—the part that secretly loved fantasy worlds and the idea of being part of something—held onto Eddie’s words a little too tightly.

Because Eddie Munson had noticed you.

And maybe… just maybe… you wanted to be noticed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You thought maybe Eddie would forget.

People talked all the time—offhand invitations, casual offers that didn’t really mean anything. You figured that’s what his words had been in the library. A moment of whimsy, a fleeting thought from someone who didn’t actually expect you to take him up on it.

But Eddie Munson wasn’t most people.

So when Friday rolled around, when Hellfire Club took over the cafeteria for their weekly game, Eddie saw you.

You were sitting in your usual spot, book open but unread, fingers fidgeting with the worn edge of the page. You could hear them—the boisterous laughter, the dramatic voices, the excitement of a world unfolding in dice rolls and storytelling.

And then, his voice.

“Still in the background, huh?”

Your stomach flipped before you even looked up. Eddie was standing in front of you again, hands braced on the table, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You blinked, unsure what to say. You hadn’t expected him to follow up.

“Not even a little curious?” he pressed, tilting his head, his curls falling into his face.

You hesitated. Of course you were curious. But curiosity meant risk—meant walking into a world where you couldn’t just blend in, where you’d have to speak, to engage.

Eddie, as if sensing your internal debate, softened his approach. “Alright, new deal. No commitment, no pressure. Just come watch. Sit at the table, listen in. You don’t have to say a word.”

Your fingers tightened around your book.

It was a trap. A cleverly disguised one, because you knew Eddie wanted you to speak, to participate. But the offer was tempting. No pressure. Just watching.

You exhaled. “Just watching?”

Eddie grinned. “Scout’s honor.”

You seriously doubted Eddie Munson had ever been a Scout, but still…

You nodded.

His eyes lit up like you’d just agreed to marry him. “Hell yeah, okay—come on.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, Eddie grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward the Hellfire table. His rings were cold against your skin, his grip firm but not forceful, like he half-expected you to change your mind and run.

You didn’t.

Instead, you let him pull you into the chaos.

Dustin, Mike, Jeff, Gareth—faces you recognized but had never spoken to—glanced up in mild surprise as Eddie dragged you into a seat beside him. “Alright, gentlemen, we have a guest,” he announced, spreading his arms like he’d just unveiled a great prize.

Dustin looked delighted. “You recruited someone?”

“Not recruited,” Eddie corrected, slinging an arm over the back of your chair. You tensed at the proximity, and he must have noticed because his voice dropped into something softer. “Just watching tonight.”

The others accepted this without question, diving back into their game, and you found yourself quietly observing as their campaign unfolded. The excitement, the stakes, the way Eddie controlled the room with his voice alone.

And maybe, just maybe, you started to see what he saw.

Because for the first time in a long time, you weren’t just watching from the outside. You were there, included, and Eddie Munson had made sure of it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You hadn’t meant to come back.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the next Friday, when Hellfire Club met again, you found yourself hovering just outside the cafeteria doors, heart hammering, fingers twisting in the fabric of your sweater. You weren’t sure why you were hesitating.

Eddie had invited you. No—more than that. He had wanted you there. And nothing bad had happened last time. No one had forced you to speak. No one had laughed at you.

So why were you so nervous?

You were debating whether to turn around and flee when—

“Well, well, well. Look who’s lurking.”

Your stomach flipped. You knew that voice.

Eddie.

He was leaning in the doorway like he’d been waiting for you, dark eyes filled with mischief, lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk—too warm for that.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Eddie chuckled. “Y’know, for someone who’s really good at making herself invisible, you are terrible at sneaking.”

You huffed, heat creeping up your neck. “I wasn’t sneaking.”

His grin widened, like he was delighted to hear you defend yourself. “No? What were you doing then?”

You hesitated. “…Thinking about coming in.”

He tilted his head. “And what’s stopping you?”

You bit your lip. Everything. The usual anxieties, the weight of being seen, the fear of looking ridiculous. But saying that out loud felt impossible.

Eddie, as if sensing your internal war, took a step closer. Not enough to be overwhelming—just enough that his voice dropped into something softer, something meant just for you.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said, his tone light but real. “It’s just a game. Just us nerds sitting around a table, rolling some dice. No stakes. No pressure.”

You wanted to believe that.

And yet—

“You’ll sit next to me again,” Eddie added, like it wasn’t a question but a promise. “I’ll help you if you want. And if it sucks, I’ll personally walk you out and never bother you about it again.”

Your heart clenched.

It was such an Eddie thing to say. Loud and dramatic and yet… sincere. Because he meant it.

And somehow, that was what made you move.

You swallowed hard, then nodded.

Eddie lit up like you’d just made his entire week. “That’s what I’m talking about. Come on, shy girl, time to throw you into the fire.”

He didn’t grab your wrist this time. Just walked beside you, slow enough that you could change your mind if you wanted.

You didn’t.

The guys greeted you like last time—Dustin practically beaming, Mike offering a nod, the others grinning like they had already accepted you as part of the background.

You liked that.

You sat down next to Eddie, your pulse still racing, fingers tightening around the hem of your sweater. The energy around the table was different tonight—higher stakes, more tension.

“Perfect timing,” Eddie declared as he sat down beside you. “We’re entering the final stretch of tonight’s campaign. And you—” he tapped a ringed finger on the table in front of you “—are going to roll for us.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “One roll. No character sheet, no stats—just luck. Our fearless warrior here—” he gestured to Dustin “—is in a tight spot. He needs backup. So, we’ll leave his fate in the hands of the newcomer.”

Your palms started sweating. Everyone was watching. Waiting.

Eddie saw your hesitation and leaned in, voice just above a whisper. “You got this. Just pick up the die and let fate decide.”

You took a shaky breath. Then, before you could overthink it, you reached out and grabbed the twenty-sided die in front of you. It was cool in your palm, heavier than you expected.

You let it roll.

It bounced across the table, spinning, spinning—

Then landed.

A natural twenty.

The table exploded.

Dustin shot to his feet. “Are you kidding me? That was a critical hit!”

Mike groaned, throwing his hands up. “She’s got beginner’s luck!”

Even Jeff and Gareth were laughing, clapping their hands as Eddie threw his head back, cackling like a maniac. “Oh-ho-ho, I knew it! I knew you had it in you!”

You blinked at the die, then at Eddie. “…That was good, right?”

Eddie grinned so wide it was blinding. “Good? That was legendary.”

And for the first time that night—maybe even the first time ever—you felt it, the feeling like you belonged.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Something was wrong.

You felt it before you understood it—an unspoken shift in the air, like the entire town of Hawkins had been holding its breath. It started small. Missing posters appearing overnight, whispers of kids seeing things that weren’t there, an electricity in the air that made your skin prickle.

Then Chrissy Cunningham died.

And Eddie Munson disappeared.

You heard the rumors before you heard the truth.

Murder. Occult rituals. Hellfire Club being a satanic cult. The kind of garbage Hawkins thrived on, spinning stories to explain away the things it couldn’t understand.

But you knew Eddie.

You knew the boy who noticed people when no one else did, who made space for you at his table without asking for anything in return. The boy who smirked at your shyness but never mocked it, who pulled you into the fire without letting you burn.

And there was no way Eddie Munson was a murderer.

Which was why, when Dustin Henderson pulled you aside between classes, frantic and breathless, you didn’t hesitate.

“You trust Eddie, right?” he asked, gripping your arm, eyes darting around like someone might be listening.

“Of course,” you said, heart pounding. “Where is he?”

Dustin hesitated. Then, after a sharp exhale, he said, “Come with me.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Eddie was hiding in Reefer Rick’s boathouse.

Dustin, Lucas, and Max had already found him, but now it was a waiting game—figuring out what the hell was happening, what had killed Chrissy, and how to keep Eddie from getting thrown in jail for something he didn’t do.

You barely had time to process before you were climbing through a boatyard window, heart in your throat, stepping into the darkened boathouse where Eddie was pacing like a caged animal.

He looked different. Smaller, somehow. His usual bravado was missing, his eyes wide and darting like he was waiting for someone to kick down the door and drag him away.

But the moment he saw you, he froze.

“…Shy girl?”

Your chest ached at how raw his voice sounded. “Hey, Eddie.”

He blinked like he wasn’t sure if you were real. “What—why—?”

You stepped closer before you could second-guess yourself. “Dustin told me what happened. I don’t believe any of it.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath. His shoulders slumped, just slightly, like he’d been bracing for you to look at him differently.

“You should,” he said, voice hollow. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

He told you then.

About Chrissy. About the impossible, horrific way she died. About the thing that had killed her—something wrong, something that shouldn’t exist.

And you believed him.

Because this was Hawkins. And in Hawkins, monsters were real.

You sat down beside him, slow and careful, like approaching a spooked animal. He looked exhausted—shaken down to his bones.

“You’re not alone, Eddie,” you said softly. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Eddie let out a wet, breathy laugh. “Shit. Never thought you’d be the one telling me that.”

You smiled, just a little. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. And for the first time since you walked in, something in his eyes steadied.

He swallowed hard. “…That a bad thing?”

Your pulse jumped.

You weren’t sure how to answer, but for the first time, you didn’t feel like running away.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You didn’t leave, maybe you should have. Maybe it would’ve been safer to let the others handle this, to go home and pretend that Eddie Munson wasn’t sitting next to you in the dark, shaking from something that had shattered his entire world.

But you stayed.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the way he looked at you—wide-eyed and uncertain, like he was afraid you might vanish—or because, for once, you weren’t afraid to be seen.

Eddie had spent weeks pulling you out of your shell. Maybe it was your turn.

Outside, the others were whispering, trying to piece together what was happening to Hawkins. But in here, in this dimly lit boathouse where the air smelled like damp wood and old cigarettes, it was just you and Eddie.

He ran a hand through his tangled curls, exhaling sharply. “So, uh. What’s the verdict?”

You frowned. “On what?”

“Me,” he said, glancing at you sideways. His voice was forced light, a poor attempt at humor. “You sticking around because you believe me, or because you think I need a babysitter?”

Your chest ached at the way he said it. Like he was bracing for you to say the wrong thing.

So you answered carefully.

“I’m here because I want to be.”

Eddie went still.

His fingers curled against his knee, the rings glinting in the dim light. You had never seen him like this before—quiet. Uncertain. Eddie Munson filled spaces with his voice, his energy. But now, he just sat there, studying you like he wasn’t sure what to make of you.

“That’s new,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You swallowed hard. “What is?”

“You,” he said, tilting his head. “Not running. Not hiding.”

You hesitated. “You never let me.”

Eddie’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but for once, he didn’t. He just… watched you.

A strange, fragile thing settled between you. Something delicate, something that hadn’t been there before.

But before either of you could break it—

Thud.

You both jolted.

The noise came from the lake outside, something heavy moving through the water.

Dustin’s voice cut through the quiet. “Shit—guys, something’s out there.”

Eddie tensed beside you. His hand brushed yours—instinctive, unthinking—but it sent a jolt up your spine all the same.

You barely had time to process it before the world turned upside down.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first thing you felt was Eddie’s hand gripping yours.

It wasn’t a hesitant touch, wasn’t careful—it was instinct, a desperate hold on to me as something big, something wrong, churned beneath the surface of the lake outside.

The others were scrambling, Dustin pulling at the tarp-covered windows, Max whispering a frantic what the hell was that? But all you could focus on was Eddie.

His fingers were locked around yours, cold from fear and the damp air, his rings pressing into your skin. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was holding onto you like that.

And you weren’t sure you wanted to let go.

Then the water exploded.

Jason Carver’s idiot friend—Patrick—had been out there, chasing after the other jocks. But now he was—lifted—yanked into the air like a puppet on invisible strings. His limbs snapped, his jaw wrenched open in a silent scream, and his eyes—

They caved in.

It was Chrissy all over again.

The second Patrick hit the water, Eddie yanked you back, shoving you behind him like he was the one protecting you. It was a ridiculous thought—what could either of you do against something like that?—but it made your throat tighten all the same.

Dustin swore. Lucas was shouting. And Eddie— Eddie was shaking.

His breathing had gone shallow, his entire body locked up. He looked like he was about to fall apart, like the walls were closing in on him.

And without thinking, without overanalyzing, you reached for him.

“Hey,” you whispered. Your fingers brushed his sleeve, just barely, but his head snapped toward you like you’d pulled him out of a dream.

His eyes found yours. Wild, frantic.

But yours were steady.

“You’re not alone,” you told him, voice firm despite the way your pulse was hammering. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

For a second, he just stared at you.

Then, slowly, his breathing evened out. His fingers flexed like he wanted to hold onto you again, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded.

And that was enough.

Dustin’s voice cut through the tension. “We need to go.”

Eddie didn’t hesitate. He grabbed your wrist—not as frantic as before, but still firm, like he was making sure you were real—and pulled you toward the door.

And as the six of you ran into the night, you realized something:

This wasn’t just Eddie pulling you out of the shadows anymore.

This time, you were pulling him back, too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You didn’t stop running until your lungs burned.

Dustin led the way, weaving through the trees like he’d done this a hundred times before, Max and Lucas close behind. But you barely noticed them—your entire world had shrunk to the feel of Eddie’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip still tight like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers.

He only let go when you reached the edge of the forest, doubling over to catch his breath. His hands found his knees, his wild curls falling into his face, his breath coming out in short, frantic bursts.

You wanted to say something—to do something—but before you could, Dustin spoke.

“We need to get Eddie somewhere safe,” he said, glancing over his shoulder like he expected half of Hawkins to come crashing through the trees. “It’s only a matter of time before the cops start combing the woods.”

Eddie let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Great. Just what I need. Another reason for the whole damn town to be out for my blood.”

Lucas frowned. “We could take him to my house. My parents aren’t home.”

Max shook her head. “Too risky. Carver and his goons probably already checked there.”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Steve’s house. His parents are home, but they’re clueless. He’s got a big basement—perfect for laying low.”

Eddie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Harrington? Seriously?”

Dustin crossed his arms. “Dude, do you have better options?”

Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it. He had nothing.

You hesitated. You’d been quiet this whole time, still rattled by what had happened at the lake, but you couldn’t ignore the tension rolling off of Eddie in waves. He was still breathing too fast, still shifting like he was barely holding himself together.

And something about it hurt.

“…He shouldn’t be alone,” you said softly.

Eddie’s head snapped toward you.

You felt all four pairs of eyes on you, but you ignored them. Instead, you focused on Eddie, who was watching you like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

You swallowed hard, then pushed forward. “I mean—it’s just, you’ve been alone this whole time, right? Running. Hiding. And now you don’t have to.” Your fingers twisted in your sweater. “If we’re laying low, I can stay with you. Just until we figure things out.”

Eddie blinked, mouth slightly open, like his brain was buffering.

Dustin grinned. “That’s actually a great idea.”

Eddie made a strangled noise. “I—what—are you guys just making plans for me now?”

Lucas shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Max smirked. “Welcome to the club, Munson.”

Eddie threw his hands up in exasperation, muttering something under his breath, but when his eyes flicked back to you, something in them softened.

You weren’t sure if it was the way you’d said he shouldn’t be alone or the fact that you’d offered to stay, but something shifted between you.

And despite everything—despite the fear, the danger, the unknown—he gave a short, tired nod.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But if Harrington tries to make me use his shampoo, I’m out.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Steve Harrington’s basement was nicer than you expected.

It wasn’t dingy or unfinished like Eddie’s trailer—there was carpet, old furniture, and a couch that looked way too expensive to be shoved in a basement. But the best part? It was hidden.

Which meant Eddie could finally breathe.

You sat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as the others argued upstairs. Something about supplies, about Nancy and Robin meeting up with them later. You weren’t really listening.

Because Eddie was pacing again.

His fingers twitched at his sides, his rings catching the dim light. He’d been quiet ever since you got here, chewing his thumbnail, his movements jittery and restless.

You exhaled. “Eddie.”

He didn’t stop. “This is insane. I’m hiding in Steve Harrington’s basement. This is actually my life right now.”

You hesitated. “It won’t be forever.”

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You sure about that?”

No. You weren’t sure about anything.

But you hated seeing him like this.

So you did something you never would’ve done weeks ago.

You reached out and grabbed his hand.

Eddie froze.

His skin was warm, the metal of his rings cold against your fingers. You hadn’t really thought about it, hadn’t planned it—just acted on instinct, pulling him back to you the same way he had done for you.

His eyes snapped to yours, wide and startled.

You swallowed hard. “You’re not alone, Eddie.”

His breath hitched.

For a second, neither of you moved. Your fingers were still curled around his, but you didn’t pull away. And neither did he.

Then—slowly, carefully—his grip tightened.

Just barely. Just enough to hold on.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “God. You really don’t scare easy, huh?”

You huffed a soft laugh. “I do. Just not around you.”

Eddie went still.

Something shifted. The air between you thickened, the weight of your words hanging there, unspoken but understood.

His fingers flexed against yours.

And then—

The basement door swung open.

You jumped, yanking your hand back as Steve clomped down the stairs, arms full of blankets. “Alright, Munson, you’re officially our problem now. Make yourself comfortable.”

Eddie didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stood there, watching you like he was seeing you for the first time.

And something in your chest ached.

Because you both knew that something had changed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You didn’t sleep.

Eddie didn’t, either.

The basement was quiet now—Dustin, Lucas, and Max had left, Steve had finally gone to bed, and the house above you was still. The only light came from a dim lamp in the corner, barely illuminating the space between you and Eddie.

He was sitting on the floor near the couch, leaning back against it, one knee bent, fingers twisting at his rings. You were curled up on the cushions, pretending to read a book you’d found on Steve’s shelf.

You weren’t actually reading it.

Because Eddie was acting weird.

Not loud, not animated, not filling the silence like usual. He was… watching you. Not constantly, not in an obvious way, but in these small, flickering glances, like he was trying to figure something out.

And it was killing you.

Finally, you broke the silence. “You’re staring.”

Eddie startled slightly, caught in the act. “Uh—what? No, I’m not.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He cleared his throat, shifting. “Okay, maybe I was. But only ‘cause I’m still trying to wrap my head around something.”

You hesitated. “What?”

His fingers drummed against his knee. He didn’t answer right away, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it out loud.

Then, finally—soft, careful—

“You stayed.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You could’ve left,” he said, watching you intently now. “Back at the boathouse. When you found out what I’d seen, what was happening—you could’ve run. Hell, most people would’ve. But you didn’t.”

Your throat tightened. “Neither did you.”

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh. “I didn’t really have a choice, sweetheart.”

The nickname sent something warm through you, but you ignored it. “That’s not true,” you said, voice softer now. “You could’ve run from us. Stayed hidden. But you didn’t. You let me find you.”

Eddie’s expression flickered. Like that hadn’t occurred to him.

Silence stretched between you. The air was thick, heavy with something unspoken.

Then, he exhaled.

“Shit,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “This is weird, right? Like—weird weird?”

You frowned. “What is weird?”

He hesitated. Then—“Us.”

Your breath caught.

Eddie must’ve seen something in your face because he backtracked immediately, hands flailing. “Not weird bad! Just—not what I expected? Like, I thought I had you figured out—shy, quiet, probably wanted nothing to do with a guy like me—and then boom, you’re here, riding this whole nightmare out with me, and I’m just—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It’s messing with my head.”

Your heart was pounding.

Because you felt it too.

This thing between you. The way it had shifted, deepened. The way Eddie was looking at you now—not just like you were a surprise, but like he was seeing you differently.

Like he didn’t want you to be just another quiet observer in his life.

Like he wanted more.

You swallowed hard. “Eddie.”

He went very still.

You could feel the air shift again, thick and warm, something dangerous curling between you.

If you said something now, if you acknowledged it—

The line would be crossed.

But before you could open your mouth—

The phone upstairs rang.

Eddie jumped like he’d been electrocuted.

Then, almost immediately, he was on his feet, shaking off whatever had just happened like it hadn’t stolen the breath from both of you. “That’s probably Henderson. We should—uh—we should see what’s up.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

But as Eddie jogged up the stairs, leaving you standing there, hands curled into fists—

You knew that this wasn’t just in your head, and you knew that Eddie felt it too. And sooner or later, one of you would have to stop running from it.

Part 2

[uhhlifeig]

XOXO - Feb. 19th - word count: 232 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus Lupin was supposed to be a star student.

That was decidedly hard when his kinda-best-friend-kinda-crush kept on flicking notes onto his desk.

One bounced off his shoulder. Remus turned, glaring at Sirius, before sighing and opening the note. 

It read, Do you think Minnie would let me have a dragon?

Remus sighed again. No, you can barely take care of a cactus, he wrote as a response, before flicking the scrap of parchment back at Sirius.

Sirius frowned as he read the note, and quickly scribbled a reply. The parchment flew right back at Remus, this time hitting his ear.

He unfolded it. There was a new question, this time: Do you think she’d let me have a Hippogriff, then?

No, Remus wrote. He didn’t bother with a reason this time.

The note came flying back at him, this time landing on his desk. 

Remus was so incredibly fed up with Sirius’s antics, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch the grin off of his face or kiss it off.

He opened the note, deigning to entertain him for the time being.

It read, Do you think she’d let me have a boyfriend?

Remus frowned. There was no rhyme or reason to that question… unless, of course-

He flipped the paper over, and sure enough, there was more writing.

Will you go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow, Moony? XOXO, Padfoot.

[riddlesrizzler]

Copy That, Cupcake

summary: "WizQuill this is..." characters: jim halpert! mattheo. pam beesley! reader. dwight schrute! draco. warnings: none! word count: 723

The morning sunlight spilled through the dusty windows of WizQuill, catching on the floating dust motes that danced lazily through the stagnant air of the office. The front desk, your throne and prison, was cluttered with scribbled memos, ink bottles that never stayed full, and a slowly dying cactus you’d named Frank. You sat slouched in your chair, idly doodling a dragon in a party hat on the edge of a memo about quarterly parchment sales.

The door creaked open - same time every day, same lazy saunter - and you didn’t bother looking up.

“You’re late,” you called, twirling your quill between your fingers.

Mattheo Riddle’s familiar voice echoed with faux shock. “Late? Never. Time simply waits for me.”

You looked up then, already fighting a smile. He was leaning against the edge of your desk, hair tousled in a way that definitely wasn't accidental, a coffee cup held out like a peace offering. His eyes —-warm brown with just a hint of mischief - scanned your face for a reaction.

You took the cup and sniffed it suspiciously. “This is from Cups & Beans. The Muggle café?”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I have my sources. You like the caramel one, right? With extra foam?”

Your cheeks warmed slightly as you sipped. “You're playing a dangerous game, Riddle. If Draco catches you bringing Muggle drinks into the office again, he might combust.”

As if summoned by name, Draco Malfoy came storming out of the copy room, clutching two scrolls and a half-eaten protein bar. His platinum hair was slightly askew - a sure sign something had gone terribly wrong.

“Riddle,” he barked. “Did you-” He paused, eyes narrowing. “Did you hex the filing cabinet to scream every time I opened it?”

Mattheo blinked. “Scream? No. Maybe sing a little. A cheerful jingle.”

You snorted into your coffee as Draco turned an alarming shade of pink. “Fix it. Now. Or I’m filing an official complaint with HR.”

“We are HR,” Mattheo said calmly.

Draco blinked. “…I’ll go over your head.”

“To who? The owls?”

Before Draco could retort, a distant wail echoed from the copy room. He spun on his heel and disappeared back down the corridor, cape billowing dramatically behind him.

Mattheo turned to you, smirk firmly in place. “He didn’t even see the glitter hex in the ink pot yet.”

You chuckled, trying to hide the way your heart fluttered around him. “He’ll find it. He always does. And he always thinks it's cursed.”

Mattheo leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. “That’s why this is your best idea yet.”

You reached under the desk and handed him a neatly rolled scroll. “Phase two.”

He unrolled it and laughed under his breath - a warm, rich sound that made your stomach flip.

Inside was a forged memo printed in official WizQuill font, complete with magical watermark, declaring Draco Malfoy the newly promoted Regional Auror Liaison for Magical Quill Security - a title you invented while half-asleep yesterday, fueled by coffee and boredom.

“He has to test every quill in the building for curses now,” you said, lips twitching. “It’s in the memo.”

Mattheo clutched his chest like he’d been hit with a stunning spell. “This... is art.”

He turned the parchment in his hands, admiring your work. “You’re wasted behind a desk.”

You looked at him - really looked. His messy curls, the way his tie was always a little too loose, like he couldn’t quite conform to the office dress code. The soft scruff on his jaw he never quite remembered to shave. He was always a little chaotic, a little off-center - but with you, he was golden.

“You say that like you're not stuck here too,” you teased.

He glanced down, suddenly more serious. “Maybe I like being stuck here.”

You blinked. “Why?”

His voice softened. “Because you’re here.”

The moment hung in the air, delicate and unspoken, until-

“WHO HEXED MY INKWELL?” Draco’s shriek echoed from down the hall.

Mattheo grinned, but his eyes stayed on you. “We should probably run.”

You laughed and grabbed your coffee. “Meet me in the breakroom. I’ve got a decoy memo and an emergency stash of chocolate frogs.”

He saluted. “Copy that, cupcake.”

And just like that, he was gone - but your heart was still racing, and you were pretty sure he knew exactly what he was doing.