#{ The first book was written when I was a little kid though so it's pretty bad. }

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hi angel!!!! absolutely adore your blog and especially the way you write for regulus 🥹🥹 makes my heart so happy, like that’s baby boy!!!! thank you so much for sharing with us!!! i have a prompt request but only if you feel so inclined!!! number d8 “where is she?" with regulus, pretty please, like maybe something happens to reader and he is the last to find out (busy w quidditch or prefer things) so when someone finally tracks him down being like your girl needs you, his composure is for once non existent and he is panicking!!!! ughhh hurt/comfort with reg is everything!!! anyway only if you feel my up to my love no pressure ever - love your blog regardless 💗💗💗

hi my love<33 this is hands down the sweetest request i have received, thank you so much for being so kind 🤍🤍 i genuinely appreciate your words so much! as for the request, i adore some hurt/comfort with reg, and this is an idea i've had for a while, so it was so fun to write

Prompt: D.8 "Where is she?"

Words: 6k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, severe injury (happens off screen, explained and treated on screen), lacerations, typical regulus anxiety (overworked), best friends to lovers, pomfrey being a badass, snape is a villain, animal abuse (technically), background marlene, rosekiller, etc.

It was common knowledge that Slytherin quidditch practice was never to be disturbed, especially this close to the final match of the season against Gryffindor.

This was Regulus’ first year as captain and he was determined for it to be written in the history books as a victorious one, to make himself deserving of the title. Playing opposite his brother and his best friends didn’t lessen the pressure much, either. 

He knew he had been pushing the team quite hard, but he also knew that if anyone could handle it, it was them. Evan and Barty funnelled all their chaotic energy into quidditch once they realised just how much it mattered for their mate, and Dorcas had just as much to gain from winning against Marlene as Regulus had against Sirius. Fenwick had had his skull bashed in by enough bludgers in his career to not be able to formulate any complaints, even if he had them. The rest of the team were relatively young players, a risk most others had chastised Regulus for taking, but one that was playing off beautifully – and with those rumours, they wanted to prove themselves, too. 

There really was little problem with this arrangement, he told himself, other than the fact that he was perhaps wearing himself a bit thin when balancing it all with his prefect duties and exams.

And, more importantly, missing you.

You had been the best friend he could have asked for during this hectic year of his, always standing by his side, just as much of a loyal team-player as those on his actual sports team. That unwavering dedication you had shown him over the years that taught him that maybe, just maybe, he was capable of being loved – and most definitely of loving, because Regulus would be damned if he didn’t admit that that was the only appropriate word for how he felt about you.

Not that he had told you that yet, though, and neither had you. It was never the right time, and you both knew, at least to some degree. For now, it was enough. You had each other, always, and it was enough. He told himself as much, at least.

Regulus was trying to zero his thoughts back on his team running through their plays off-broom on the ground, looking for any weakness in their formation, when the cardinal rule of not disturbing practice was broken.

“Black!” A voice shouted as it ran across the pitch from the school. 

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the pestering fourth year away, one of those who just seemed to always be there, nameless and bothersome. It was to little avail, though, judging by the sounds of his heavy steps hitting the still somewhat moist dirt on the field.

“Black, I have to–”

“We are in the middle of a practice!” Regulus cut the kid off, letting his nerves get the better of him as he saw most of his players stop in the midst of what had been their best run-through so far. “Unless someone has died, it can wait.”

“But–”

“Has someone died?” Regulus had his hands on his hips, half aware that he looked way too much like his older brother as he regarded the student-shaped owl in front of him with derision. 

“No, but–”

“Are someone in the midst of dying? Like within the hour?”

“N– no.”

“Then you may leave.” The student looked thoroughly confused, clearly not having been properly warned by whoever sent him as a make-shift owl that this was the only response he would be getting from Regulus. He could vaguely hear you whispering poor boy in his mind, always advocating for Regulus’ softer side, but right now he pushed it away as he turned back to his teammates. “Whatever it is will still be there when we are finished up here.”

Regulus didn’t wait for him to go before he began to pretend he was air, attention fully on his team once more.

Barty snickered as he tried to lean his chin on Evan’s shoulder, only to have the taller boy fully shove him off. Regulus shook his head, ignoring the crestfallen student beside him as he tried to increase his energy levels back to where they needed to be.

“Okay, that last round was getting closer to where we want to be. Ready to take to the sky for the last few minutes?”

When he finally stepped foot inside the quidditch locker rooms, Regulus sped through his shower routine. He was eager to get out of there and back to the dorms quick enough to have sufficient time to spend with you before going to sleep. He had half a mind to ask you to sleep in his bed tonight, but he wondered if that might be pushing it since you just did that a few nights ago. Nothing ever happened, of course, you were just the best of friends – and even if you had been something more, it was hard for anything to happen with Evan and Barty in the same room.

You just brought him a sense of peace he found himself craving more day by day. He wished to squeeze out every ounce of it he possibly could.

His hair was still wet, bag thrown about as haphazardly over his shoulder as he could allow himself to without spiralling – which is to say, he still looked perfectly polished to anyone but him. He turned to give the team lingering behind an attempt at an emphatic great work today that ended up falling a bit short from his hoarse voice. Thankfully, everyone else seemed tired enough to accept it without reservation, and Regulus could exit the changing room before all but running towards the Slytherin dorms. 

On his way there, he passed through the Great Hall, attempting to slow his stride to look a bit more composed, but quite ready to throw all of it away for the night just to curl up with you.

“Re- Regulus?!”

Sirius’ incredulous voice sounded behind him, and though Regulus loved his brother dearly, he took a deep sigh at the disturbance, knowing that, with him, it would likely not be a short one.

“That would be me.” Regulus turned around with a sarcastic half-smile, only for it to waver when he saw the expression on Sirius’ face. 

There was an evident tension in his face when he looked Regulus up and down, as if trying to figure him out while a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Sirius’ lips were pressed tight, as if holding back a severe frown and his eyes were decidedly clouded with worry.

“Reg, what are you doing here?” His voice conveyed more confusion than upset, but both were woven into his tone.

“I’m… on my way to Slytherin? We just finished practice.” 

It was as if Sirius found an answer to his confusion as his face settled into a form of defeat. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Regulus stared his brother down, heart speeding up in his chest, but he could feel it in his whole body. “What is it, Siri?”

“James sent someone to tell you,” Sirius says, speaking more to himself.

“Tell me what?” Regulus’ patience was worn thin by his pulse straining his skin.

“Uh, it’s Y/N.” Pangs shot through his body, pulling every vein taut. “She– she will be fine, don’t worry, but–”

“Where is she?”

Regulus struggled to make out where Sirius stood in front of him as the world seemed to tunnel around him and his mind was immediately elsewhere, immediately with his best girl, imagining any possible horror that might have overcome you. Had it not been for Sirius’ delivery of the news and the way he looked at Regulus, he might have felt more calm. But he had always known his big brother to be more composed than this.

“The infirmary–”

He didn’t need to hear more before he was running at full speed down the hallway.

Little to nothing registered with Regulus on the way to the infirmary, that he for the first time in his life realised was located painfully far away from the Great Hall. Illogical, given how many students go through there throughout their days. 

He felt lighter than ever as he was entirely certain he had never run this quickly in his life, simultaneously as every limb felt heavy with worry. 

She will be fine is only reassuring if he was concerned you had died – in every other scenario it is the worst thing to hear, because it confidently means you are not fine right now.

Regulus is half aware that he has run through two ghosts, into one student and past a professor – he thinks maybe Flitwick? – but he paid none of them any mind, willing to take the point deductions or even detentions, if only they don’t slow him down. He can deal with everything and anything else later. 

When he finally reached the door to the infirmary, it took everything in him to come to a halt. 

He all but crashed into the door, catching himself with one hand on the doorframe as he breathed heavy, giving himself but two seconds to collect himself, lest he be banned from the infirmary by life by Madam Pomfrey. That was not something he could afford right now.

Still heaving, he opened the door and took two steps inside – before his vision became entirely swamped by that very same woman, standing with her hands on her hips.

“Is she here?” He tried to get out before she could say anything.

“No visitors at the moment,” Madam Pomfrey said sternly.

“Please, is she here?” Regulus couldn’t even think to say your name, but the look on the matron’s face told him she knew.

“She is, and she is alright, but there will be no visitors at the moment.” Her voice was a bit softer now, but she was not relenting and she was not moving.

Regulus’ breath picked back up, and he didn’t register the tears that were forming in his eyes. A choked please was forming on his tongue when–

“Please.”

You beat him to it. Your meek voice sounded from a few curtains down behind Madam Pomfrey. Regulus didn’t hear the noise that escaped him when he heard the soft pain in your usually chipper voice, but the matron did. Still, it seemed to be on your account and not the lovestruck, fear-sickened boy in front of her, that she took a step to the side.

“Only you, and it must be brief.”

Her words were mostly caught by the air that Regulus left in his wake the moment she moved to the side, because as soon as he could he was by the curtain he had heard you speak from behind, ever so gently pulling it to the side.

“Oh, mon amour.”

The sight he was faced with both mended and broke his heart – because you were there, awake and already looking at him, but your forehead and right arms were bandaged and your face bore telltale signs of pain. He could see tear tracks down your delicate cheeks, mascara smudging just barely beneath your eyes. You looked happy to see him, he could see your chest heave a breath of relief, but that was about the only positive thing he could decipher in you at the moment.

At last, his movements were measured and careful again, but for once not for the sake of how he was perceived, but rather to not disturb the space around you, as if that could lessen your pain. He barely managed to close the curtain behind him with trembling hands, giving you a semblance of privacy, even in this infirmary that he had no idea hosted how many others.

There was enough space on the left side of the bed beside you for Regulus to take his rightful place by your side, as close as he dared. His eyes kept jumping all over your body and face, breath hitched.

Your name escaped his lips in a small breath as his eyes widely roamed your form.

He didn’t realise his hand was hovering between you before you reached up to him with your left hand and took it in yours. Your grip was weak and the tips of your fingers cold, but it was still the smooth skin he was used to feeling on his.

Upon your touch, he seemed to be brought back down to earth and the welling tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Oh, Reggie,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, I’m alright.”

“My poor love,” he whispered back, letting his free hand move up to lightly caress your cheek, brushing some damp hair away. It must have gotten wet when Pomfrey tended to whatever wound was bandaged on your upper forehead. “What happened to you, amour?”

Regulus often referred to you with terms of endearment, you knew you were each other’s person, but the absolute softness of them now broke your heart a little.

“It was…” you trailed off, wincing as you scrunched your brows in confusion and consequently pulled on your bandage. “It was an accident.” The sound that escaped you was almost a laugh, but it was too wet and strangled to truly be classified as such.

“What happened?” Regulus’ voice urged, more desperate than before. He held your hand tighter, bringing it closer to his chest, as if to protect it.

“We were helping Kettleburn – unwillingly mind you –”

“Who are we?” Regulus cuts you off, still seeming rather feverish in his desperation to know what was wrong. You squeezed his hand and smiled at him to calm him down. 

“An unfortunate bunch of us who happened to be enjoying the fresh air by the benches. Me, Lily, Marlene, Snape, Avery and some others we don’t really know too well, mostly fourth years.”

Regulus scowled at the mention of Snape and Avery, but nodded, as if encouraging you to continue.

“Kettleburn needed some help preparing bait. He believed there was a hippogriff in the Forbidden Forest that he wanted to draw out. It worked a bit too well, a bit too well.”

His brows scrunched at that. “But hippogriffs are mainly peaceful unless you disturb them?” Unease was growing in his stomach.

“Yes, that’s what I said as well,” you feel a bout of dizziness come over you, but try and speak through it. “We were down, probably a bit too close to the forest when it came out. I tried to push the bait towards it carefully, keeping my distance. It just wanted food, you know.”

“But?”

“But Snape and Avery freaked. When it took a step closer, just to eat – they let curses fly, kneejerk self defence reaction they said.”

Regulus had to be mindful to not hurt your hand as his fists clenched on reflex. He settled for holding the sheets beside him disturbingly hard instead – he had already pieced together what happened. “You were still in the line of fire,” he concluded, eyes darkening.

“Yes,” you whispered weakly. “It would have been fine, if it had only been a stupefy or something, but Snape shouted something else, some freak hex. It was like being slashed with a knife all over.”

Regulus’ breath hitched as he let his eyes travel from gauze to gauze. His fingers came up to linger near a particularly large bandage that travelled from your shoulder in under your hospital gown. “All over?” His voice was a mere whisper before he finally looked in your eyes again. He found them teary, and his heart clenched painfully.

“Yeah, I– The biggest one is across my stomach. Pomfrey has patched me up nicely, but it was, uh, it wasn’t good.”

He can’t fight the new tears that spill as he whispers my girl before carefully shuffling closer to you to give you a hug, or at least as close to one you could get right now. His cheek is pressed into yours, his hand on the back of your head, and you can hear him cry directly into your ear, drawing tears from you as well. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into you. “So sorry, amour.”

“Reggie, there was nothing you could do,” you try to look at him, but his grip on your head remains steadfast.

“No, I should have been there. I’m so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your upper cheek, and his lips are wet. “I should’ve been there.”

“Reg, there was no way anyone could have known.”

He pulls back slightly, looking you over to see if he was hurting you before settling in with his forehead against yours – making sure to avoid the wound in the top left. When his eyes look into yours, you feel a sense of calm finally wash over your body that had been riddled by the shock of being torn open. A grey safe haven.

“I’m sorry, amour.” He keeps saying it like a prayer.

You try to shake your head, but wince at the action. His hand immediately shoots up to your jaw, to still your head. Protecting you, even from yourself. “You’re not allowed to be sorry, Reg, you didn’t do anything. You can only feel sorry for me, which isn’t quite that hard. I look pathetic right now.”

Your half-hearted attempt at humour doesn’t seem to drag him from his despair as his eyes keep searching your face, flitting from the tears to the deviating makeup. His thumb, ever so carefully, drags under your eye to wipe away some of the mascara there. You lean into his touch.

“They tried to tell me, but I– I didn’t know, so I didn’t listen and–”

“You were at quidditch practice,” you cut him off. “Everyone knows you can’t be disturbed then.”

Regulus looked at you incredulously. “This is disturb-worthy, you – anything with you is always the biggest priority. I’m sorry.”

“One girl versus preparing for the match of your life? Hm, I think it’s good you weren’t distracted.” You are determined to lighten his mood, the sinch of his eyebrows and worry in his eyes were beginning to make you feel sick for him.

“But you’re my girl,” he says in a low voice, stressing the words as if to pour additional meaning. “You’re my best friend, my everything. Y/N, you are everything.”

You struggle to come up with a response to that. Any mask Regulus switches between is completely discarded in this small infirmary section with you. When he holds your face and looks at you, you know what it is.

Unable to speak over the lump in your throat, you just drag his face closer to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, as always.

Except this time, while your lips linger on his cheek, Regulus uses his hand still on your jaw to angle your face towards his. With your lips millimetres apart, he looks from them to your eyes, searching for something, and then back down. He whispers another soft everything before pressing his lips to yours.

For all the times you had thought of kissing Regulus, nothing compared. You never expected there to be salty from tears, you never imagined his scent in your nose to be swirled with the disinfectant covering everything around you – but he was right, it was everything. His lips were unbelievably soft against yours, even as he pushed himself even closer to you, as if he needed you underneath his skin, not just on top of it. The pinky underneath your jaw digs into your skin, and you can feel your pulse beat against his finger.

When Regulus pulls away, your mouths are still essentially connected, slightly parted, just breathing into each other. You open your eyes and find him looking at you with nothing short of love.

“I–”

“I love you.” You cut him off, smiling a bit as he half feigns indignance before it turns soft once more.

“I love you, belle fille.”

“I know.”

Finally, finally he gives you a genuine smile. It eases your nerves more than even his eyes could, and you feel yourself melting back into your pillow. Unfortunately, comfort makes you even more aware of the pain and soreness in your body, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, mostly to himself it seems.

“I won’t allow that.” You tug your intertwined hands closer to you, wanting to share the comfort with him. “I’m alright, Reggie.”

“You’re wounded and bandaged.”

“And I’m perfectly okay.”

He gives you an as if look, but it’s good enough for you, for now. Then his face twisted into something darker and you saw the same desperation from earlier bubbling to the surface.

“What happened to Snape? And Avery?” His hold on you is still soft and caring, but the rest of his body has grown stiff, mind racing with imagined visions of what went down and of what he would do with them in return.

“Nothing yet,” you said with a careful, measured voice. “Kettleburn wanted to ease the situation first, but since it was technically his fault for bringing us along unprompted, I’m not sure what would be done. Detention maybe?”

“Yeah, Kettleburn’s an idiot for that, but Snape was the one who used an unorthodox and probably dark hex. He has to be dealt with.”

Though you don’t condone how fast some of your friends resorted to revenge and violence, even you had to admit that the idea of Snape knowing magic like that didn’t sit right with you either. There was no situation you could imagine where a slasher spell like that would be moral in combat. 

“I’m sure they will deal with him tomorrow,” you settle on. “Tonight the main priority seemed to be making sure I don’t bleed out on the grounds.”

Regulus’ look was pained as he pressed his lips together. “How did you get in after that anyway?”

“I don’t remember too well.” You truly didn’t, and the flashes that went through your mind were not ones Regulus would be better off knowing about. “Kettleburn shushed the Hippogriff back into the forest – it thankfully didn’t get severely injured it seemed – while everyone else panicked. Lily and Marlene were the first ones by my side.”

You both smile absentmindedly at that. When you first befriended Lily through your study sessions at the library, Regulus had been unsure of how to approach your joint integration into his brother’s friend group, but the girls had turned out to be some of the best friends you could have asked for. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, almost straddling Regulus. “Almost forgot, but you’ll be happy to know that Marlene suckerpunched Snape before they brought me inside with a levitation spell. Pretty gnarly punch, too.”

Regulus’ smiled seemed to be less from gratification and more from endearment from you. “I think I’d like to see Snape get a little more than a punch for what he did to you. But that’s a great start, darling.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “It’s a start. And again, we can deal with all of that tomorrow. I don’t have the energy today.”

“No, no, you are the only priority right now, amour.” Any mirth slipped from his face as he studied you concernedly once more.

“I know you’re “alright”, but you’re not alright” he started. “Could you tell me where it hurt the most?” He looks over you again, as if he can map you out and fight your pain off, spot by spot.

“My stomach and chest got it worst,” you admit. “It’s growing more sore, but Madam said I could get more pain relief in just a little while.”

“Well, she also said I could only stay here for a short while,” he whispers conspiratorially, looking towards the curtain as if he expected it to be ripped back any minute. “Pretty sure we’re way past that.”

“Maybe she heard us crying like babies over a non-fatal injury and figured it was less of a hassle to leave us to it.” You squeeze Regulus’ thigh with a grin and he bites back a yelp.

“She would be wise to do so. Especially because there’s no bloody way I’m leaving.”

You don’t say much to that because you really, really don’t want him to either. You know you are fine, and for his sake you try and seem even more assured of it, but the white panic that soared through your veins those first few minutes is hard to shake. Even though you don’t want him to hold his absence against himself, you don’t like the thought of him leaving now that he was there.

“Has she said anything about a treatment plan? How long you’ll be here? She said you’re fine, so it shouldn’t be too long right?” Though Regulus looks at you as he asks his questions, you know he is already trying to piece together probable answers in his head.

“Most of our first conversation was her narrating what she was doing while I was moaning and not listening.” Your comment was off-handed, but Regulus seemed to wince at the image it painted in his head. “Sorry,” you mumbled bashfully, but he just gave you a smile.”

“Good thing I have the memory of an elephant, then.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice sounded just seconds before she ripped the curtain back and stepped into your little bubble. 

Regulus went straight into autopilot, rightening his posture and schooling his expression. You squeezed his hand tighter, so that he couldn’t pull away, but that had not even been any option in his mind. Pomfrey went through the station beside you at the speed of light, way too familiar and comfortable with these procedures.

“Miss L/N had 5 deep lacerations and several shallow ones,” she begins to recite and Regulus hangs onto every word. “The shallow wounds are almost entirely gone from the treatment already, but the more severe ones will need time to recover. She will have to stay in the infirmary overnight today and tomorrow for observation and continue to receive some medication. Among those are pain potions and salves for the wounds. Rebandage every 10 hours and apply new salves.”

“How will that affect her?” Regulus asked, probably pushing his luck with the matron.

“The pain potions will make her a bit slow and groggy, but she will still be awake. Though she should sleep.” At that she gives you a curt look over her shoulder. “The healing process for the wounds will likely be itchy and uncomfortable and she may develop a fever. We will pay particularly close attention to the stomach wounds in case she develops any infections there.”

“What are the symptoms of infections like that?”

You try and pat Regulus’ leg to say down, boy, but he doesn’t give you the time of day, instead focusing fully on any and all information the matron is willing to share with him. You had half a mind to joke that this was private medical information, but let it be.

Madam Pomfrey turns to Regulus at his fourth question, putting her hands on her hips as she measured him closely. It seemed like she decided on something and the next second she exited through the curtains again. You and Regulus barely had time to exchange a glance before she came back and threw a white coat at Regulus who catched it bewilderedly.

“Seems like I’ve got myself an assistant for the remainder of her stay, haven’t I, Mr. Black?”

A slow smile spreads across Regulus’ face before he hurries on the coat. “Yes, Madam.”

Pomfrey talks you – and now, Regulus – through the new pain potion she is about to give you, giving brief background on the ingredients, application and effect when the door to the infirmary slams open, decidedly louder than when Regulus entered earlier. Her eyes squeeze shut, as if pained by the disrespect and incredulity of students, but finished giving you the potion.

“That is no way to enter an infirmary, Mr. Crouch,” she says through half-gritted teeth as she works. She waves at Regulus to open the curtain to your bed, revealing Barty, Evan and Dorcas, all heaving as if they have been running too. “You seem to be particularly loved, Miss L/N. Please never get injured again, it disturbs my workspace.”

Your friends’ eyes are wide as they take in your form where you lay, still rather pathetically, in your bed. 

“Merlin’s tits, what happened?” Dorcas asks.

At the same time Barty’s gaze flits between you and Regulus. “Who?” he asks, while looking at you.

“I–” you start, but that was clearly the wrong answer because he then immediately turns to Regulus instead.

“Who?”

There is no hesitation in Regulus’ voice. “Snape.”

Barty’s face morphs from shock and concern into pure determination. He stalks over to you in three wide steps, pressing a quick kiss to the safe side of your forehead, whispering a quiet take care, Treasure, before turning around and dragging Evan out of the infirmary. The other boy’s jaw was ticked shut and went more than willingly.

Even you felt a bit bad for Snape in that moment.

Madam Pomfrey, however, only breathed a sigh of relief that they left so quickly.

Dorcas comes up between you and Regulus, sitting on the very edge of your bed. Pomfrey, with Regulus’ assistance return to the work on your bedside station, though his eyes are on you almost the whole time. He has that furrow between his brows that shows up whenever he focuses intently, and you are torn between wanting to kiss it and draw it.

“We met Marls and Lily in the hallway,” Dorcas explains. “They got halfway through their story before Junior took off with us on leash behind us.”

“Sounds like him,” you laugh, trying to hide how the rumble hurts you. “But really, I’m totally fine. Or, I’m relatively good, and will soon be alright.”

“Yeah, especially when you’ve got two nurses to tend to you,” Dorcas teases, casting Regulus a knowing sideways glance.

“Pardon you, Miss Meadows; I am a Healer.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. Despite never wanting to return to this infirmary, you had grown quite fond of the Madam.

“My deepest apologies, Madam,” Dorcas offered with a gleam in her eyes. You could have sworn you saw Pomfrey smile ever so slightly.

“But yeah, Dorc, I’m well taken care of. I’ll be fine.”

“Firstly, just because you’re wounded does not mean you can get away with calling me that.” You laugh once more, happy to not be treated like a dying animal even in such a grave hour. “Secondly, I’m glad. You deserve it, and it was about damn time.”

You pretend to not understand what the last part referred to, but you knew she got you all figured out. You squeeze her leg in a sign of admiration and, perhaps, defeat.

“Thirdly,” Regulus interjects. “You need to either not make her laugh or leave.”

Pomfrey nodded emphatically. 

“Not my fault your girl just finds me absolutely hilarious, Black.” Dorcas winks at you.

“Speaking of someone’s girl,” you drawl, trying to even the playing field, which worked, if Dorcas’ light blush was anything to go off of. “Please tell Marlene I say thank you. I don’t think I got to in the whirl of everything and then everyone was thrown out.”

Dorcas’ smile softens. “I will, babe, but you don’t have to thank her. She’s still a bit worried though, so I’ll tell everyone you’re doing fine.”

“Thanks,” you whisper through a smile, accepting Dorcas’ half-hug before she slips out of the infirmary, which finally returns to its prior quietude.

“That’s enough visitors for today!” Pomfrey explains, clapping her hands together as she is done. “Only staff and patients for the rest of the night.” She shoots Regulus and his white coat a knowing glance.

“Does that mean I can sleep?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so meek, but the pain potion is starting to work, and the more your body relaxes, the more exhausted you realise you are.

Regulus makes a soft cooing sign, coming back to sit on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his and drawing comforting circles on its back. “Yes, amour. We have prepared the station for when we have to wake you in a few hours for reapplication.”

You groan a bit at the thought of being woken, and both your matron and her assistant laugh a bit at you. 

“Better that than affection, Miss L/N.”

“Yes, of course,” you relent, letting out a heavy sigh. “Thank you. For all of it.”

Pomfrey merely nods before gathering her things and exiting into the rest of the infirmary, pulling your curtain shut behind you. You expect that is the closest she usually gets to a you’re welcome and you accept it heartily.

Regulus shifts into a more comfortable position beside you, back against your headboard, ensuring you are as comfortable and pain-free as possible. He brings your intertwined fingers up to his lips to press delicate butterfly kisses to them. The softness of it all makes you almost want to cry again, but you bite it back, purely because you can’t stand seeing Regulus cry again tonight, and you knew he would.

“Congratulations on your promotion.” Your tire does not hide the coyness of your tone and he smiles fondly at you.

“Thank you. Think she figured it was easier that way – and I have always been a top student.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and your OWLs.” You turn your head more towards him, smiling. “Such a nerd.”

“I reckon you like that about me.”

“I reckon the same.”

You lean forward and he meets you halfway for a slow kiss. The casualness of it makes it feel all the more important, especially when the past few hours of your life has been anything but.

He leans his head onto yours, drawing you as close as he can with your current circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers again and you shake your head beneath his. Before you can tell him no, he continues. “Not just for what happened to you or not being there. Just, I don’t know. Being slow.”

“Didn’t we just agree you were bright?” you tease, but when you turn to see the sincerity in his eyes, you soften. “It’s okay, Regulus. We were both slow.”

Neither of you feel compelled to delve into the details of it, and it makes you feel more at ease. Even with everything, this was just how it was supposed to be.

“I’m glad I have you.” It is the best way to summarise it; it was enough. He smiles warmly at you.

“And I you.” 

You ignore the strain of some of your bandages as you lean closer to kiss him again, where he meets you enthusiastically – it was worth it.

“Go to sleep now, amour. I’ll be here to ease you awake when the time comes. I’ll always be here.”

And he was.

[moonlightspencie]

This Ain’t for the Best

Description: Mutual pining. Classic hunting scenarios. Sharing a bed. Wearing the other’s clothes. Confessions. Friends to lovers. Tswizzle title. Need I say more?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Warnings: a little bit of violence, me cramming in every cliché i can because i love the classic fanfiction tropes more than i love breathing

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i was kicking my feet and giggling as i wrote this, especially when i snuck in criminal minds AND taylor swift references. i love writing and never beta-reading or editing what i’ve written. catharsis.

Crashing at Bobby’s had its benefits.

First, we had the comfort of knowing where we were going to sleep at night. It was good to have a bed waiting that wasn’t in a motel room.

Second, there was almost always good food around. I had a knack for home-cooked meals, and it was much easier to be appreciated for it when I actually had a stove to cook on.

Third, there were boundless opportunities for Sam, Dean, and I to kick back and actually relax.

That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, laughing with Dean over old stories we’d told a million times before. He reached in the fridge, pulling out two bottles after we’d come down from the most recent remembrance of an old case. He cracked open the top of his beer, then my drink, sliding it towards me on the counter. Sam and Bobby strolled in st that moment, pausing when they saw us.

“You both woke up like an hour ago,” Sam said, unamused.

“6pm somewhere,” Dean and I said in unison.

We looked at each other with a small laugh, leaving Bobby and Sam rolling their eyes. I took my drink and stood a few steps away.

“We should really get going, though, Dean,” Sam stated.

“Where?” Bobby asked.

“We were planning on doing a run to the grocery story. I don’t want us to eat up all your food without repaying you, and we’re almost out of beer,” Sam said, pointedly looking at his brother.

“This one needs more of those little fruity drinks, too,” Dean teased, nodding at the bottle in my hand.

“Hey, it’s still a malt liquor. Just one that I like,” I said with a laugh.

They said their goodbyes, and I started walking into the front room. Bobby watched the door for a few moment after the boys left, then turned in the archway and locked his gaze on me as I sat on the couch.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I know y’all are all about beer, but I can’t help if I prefer something with a little flavor.”

“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he grumbled, fed up with me already. “What in the world is goin’ on with you and Dean?”

“Huh?”

He furrowed his brow. “Don’t act all shy, now. You two have been flirting nonstop lately.”

“What’s new? We’re both pretty flirtatious in general.”

“Not like this,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know the last time I saw that boy blushing, or you getting all flustered like a teenager.”

“I am not,” I scoffed. “Nothing’s happening, Bobby.”

“I’ve known your for five years, now, and I’ve known those boys since they were kids. You stayed in my house for a year, too. You can’t hide this kind of thing from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book.”

Now, he scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m running for president.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another drink. He came closer, sitting down next to me.

“If you keep denying all this…”

I swallowed, finally resigning. “There’s nothing to do about it, Bobby.”

“Yes, there is. You could tell him.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is, he doesn’t want to be tied down. If we don’t make any moves or promises or whatever, a lot less doesn’t get broken.”

He raised a brow. “I do know how he is. For you, he’d make an exception.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s all just flirting for him. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you blind?”

I looked at him, brows raising. He shook his head, picking at the label on his bottle.

“Sorry. I just— I know what I’m seeing, and I really don’t think it’s just a little friendly flirting for him, either,” he said, looking at me again. “I really think you should speak up while you’ve got the chance to. We don’t often get good things with lives like ours.”

“I know. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“You’re gonna end up screwed if you keep pushing it down, anyway.”

I sighed. He took that signal as a time to change the subject, and for that I was thankful.

“Well, let’s find you the next case, huh?”

The next one was an easy find, and it would’ve been great to break the news to the boys when they got back, if not for a very clumsy Sam walking in the door with a twisted ankle.

“You what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.

Sam sighed, pouting. “I rolled it when I stepped in a pothole.”

Dean shook his head, clearly hiding his amusement as he helped his brother hobble towards a kitchen chair.

“So, no case, then?” I asked.

Bobby perked up. “No, you and Dean can still go. I can take care of Sam.”

“Bobby…” I warned, seeing through him instantly.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean said, cutting off my death stare. “When was the last time we went on a case, just you and me?”

I looked at him.

“Seriously, you guys can go without me,” Sam said. “It might be good for you, Y/N. You seem a little restless.”

“I am not,” I defended.

Bobby chuckled. “Sure, you’re not. But I’m not suggesting, I’m telling you. Get out of my house.”

I glanced at him, offended. “I am a delight.”

“You are, but I still want you out. You become much less delightful when you’re antsy.”

Dean laughed. “Come on, it’s only a state over, right? If we start driving now we can make it by sundown.”

I took a moment.

“Alright,” I nodded, heading towards the stairs to gather my things.

The case was a hot mess, to say the least. We couldn’t figure out what we were hunting to begin with, and the only true consistency is that the deaths were messy, leaving each victim with a missing liver. It wasn’t until we were at the most recent site of the death that things took a little bit of a turn.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, leaning in my direction.

I shrugged, looking around the house.

“It seems… clean.”

“I mean, I guess. We haven’t found hex bags or EMF readings—”

“No,” I cut him off, gesturing around the living room. “Like physically clean. Nothing is out of place. Look at the mantle.”

I walked over, using my gloved hand to wipe along the surface. I showed him my hand.

“Clean. Not even dust.”

He raised a brow. “And that matters because…”

“Because we’re supposed to be looking for some monster-unknown that never cleans up their messes. Every other scene we’ve been to has been a wreck, so why is the only thing out of place the blood stains on the floor? This is also the first time it’s been in the victims house.”

He paused. “You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes, taking off the glove.

“That’s not important right now,” I shook my head, standing next to him again. “And, for the record, it’s helping our case.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, profiler, why don’t you tell me more about what you’re gathering from the scene.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said with a laugh.

He smirked, placing a hand on my back.

“Let’s get out of here and figure out why things changed.”

We followed dead-end leads all over town, until we hit a lucky streak.

“Check this out,” Dean said, calling me over to the table in our room. “Remember that dive bar our last vic was seen at? Look at this dude’s last social media post.”

I walked over, resting a hand against the table as I leaned in. I looked at the laptop, raising a brow.

“Same place.”

“Same place,” he confirmed. “Wanna check it out? See if anything suspicious is up?”

“You sure you don’t just want to hit the bar?”

He looked up at me with a quirked brow.

“What do you think I am? Drinking on the job. I’d never,” he feigned innocence.

I snorted. “Right. So not you.”

“Leave in ten?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We hit the road soon after, winding up at the bar with our eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. There was plenty for us to see in a seedy town like this, but there was only one interaction that truly piqued our interested. I nodded at the man who was paying a little too much special attention to a woman, drawing Dean’s gaze in that direction. He was equally skeeved out. We kept an eye out for another hour or so before the weird activity took another step into the creep category.

We followed out the man who we caught following the woman, all the way to a neighborhood just outside the city. We made our move as soon as the man walked up to her house.

I followed Dean up to the house, and we started to slink around, waiting for any sign of trouble. I first checked through a window near the front of the house.

“Nothing,” I said, motioning for us to move further.

He took the lead, and we came up on a window that looked into the dining room. He slowly looked inside.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” Dean mumbled, pulling his head back from the window.

“What?”

“Well, do you want the chance to play out your little crime show fantasies?”

I raised a brow. He sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s not— well, it is a monster in there, but not our kind of monster,” he said, tilting his head.

“It’s a human?”

He nodded. “Looks like it. Nothing supernatural that I can see. She’s passed out now, but let’s get a move on before he starts in on her.”

He started walking towards the back of the house, but I stopped him before we got to the door.

“Can— How do we do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s a human. We can’t just chop his head off or exorcise him.”

“We could still stab him.”

“But should we?”

He gave me a very unamused look, waiting for me to make my point.

“Can we attempt to just— Kick his ass and leave him to deal with life in prison? Only go for the shot if it’s necessary.”

He softened. “He killed people, Y/N, does he really deserve mercy here?”

“Do you really think the prison system is mercy?” I asked, earning a slight chuckle. “I just feel weird about killing humans unless our lives are in immediate danger.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. But if anything goes sideways—”

“Then you feel free to shoot him.”

He nodded curtly, then we continued to the door. He opened it carefully, and we stepped inside, checking our surroundings before we headed towards the woman in the dining room. We saw the man first, his back to us as he sat across the table from her.

“Playing house? Really?” Dean quipped, causing the man to whip around.

My gun was pulled before the man had a chance to stand up and react. He looked between us, obvious annoyance on his face.

“You’re not cops,” he stated.

Dean smirked. “No, we are much worse news for scumbags like you.”

“Now,” I started, “you can try and fail to fight your way out of here, or you can sit still while my partner here makes sure you’re sitting nice and pretty for when the cops do show up.”

Dean moved before he had a chance to formulate a response, dragging him out of the chair. The man tried to put up a fight, but it was pretty quickly silenced by means of a fist to the face. Dean left him on the ground after a few minutes and a roll of duct tape.

“Nice,” I commented, then put away my gun.

I moved to the woman at the table who was still passed out. I checked for a pulse, and when I was sure she was still breathing, I started undoing the binding that kept her to the chair. Dean called in an anonymous tip to the police station as I finished up clearing her of everything. She started waking right as I was about to try and move her to the couch.

“Hey, hey,” I said quietly, trying to give a little comfort before her panic set in. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re fine.”

Her eyes opened, and she immediately clung to me when she saw the man on the ground incapacitated.

“What happened?” she asked with a quivering voice.

“Me and my friend Dean saw this guy creeping around your house. We wanted to make sure everything was okay, and when we found out it wasn’t, we found a way in. The cops are on the way now.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

I glanced back at Dean with the ghost of a smile on my face. He raised his brows at me.

“Why don’t we get you to the couch?”

“You’re not staying?” she asked, still in shock.

“No, we gotta leave,” I said, helping her to the couch. “We’ll stick around for a few minutes outside till the cops get here, though.”

“Okay,” she nodded along absentmindedly as she laid on the couch.

I walked back to Dean, motioning for us to go outside. He looked back down at the man for a moment who was still passed out, then followed behind me. We got back to the Impala and waited.

“Weird to be thanked,” I said, watching the house.

He hummed. “Doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe we were accidentally hunting a serial killer.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more crossover when we hunt.”

I hummed in agreement. “I also wonder why things changed so much. From the murders messy and public to being more confined in the homes.”

“Who knows,” he said, shaking his head. “Monsters make a hell of a lot more sense than people do.”

“You got that right.”

Soon enough we saw flashing lights coming down the street. We watched some officers step out of the first car, and a few more get out of an SUV.

“Is that FBI?” Dean asked, looking intently.

“I mean, we just found them a serial killer. They’ve probably been on high alert,” I said.

He nodded, and we watched for another moment as they prepared to go inside.

“Man, those vests are cool as hell in real life, too,” I commented.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he wrapped up the conversation with a laugh.

He pulled off the sidewalk at that, and started driving in the opposite direction of the cops. We decided to stay the night at the motel, neither of us awake enough to get back to Sam and Bobby. He pulled into the parking lot, and we trudged inside.

“At least we aren’t covered in monster guts this time,” I said as I fell onto the mattress.

“Right?” He chuckled. “Cool if I take the first shower?”

“Of course. I’ll be here.”

He shut the door of the bathroom, and I let out a sigh. All of the teamwork bull crap we’d been doing certainly didn’t help my case, but I could at least be thankful he didn’t want to go the bars and find a hookup. I threw my arms over my eyes and sighed.

“Hey,” I heard Dean’s voice call out, his hand on my knee.

I uncovered my eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

He smiled. “Go take a shower.”

“You sayin’ I need one?” I asked with a quirked brow.

“Yeah. You’re a mess,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t know how I sat in a car with you all day, to be honest.”

I scoffed, getting up. He moved enough for me to get by, but didn’t let me get far before he started talking again.

“Movie tonight?” he asked.

I rustled through my bag, pulling out my pajama shorts.

“Sure.”

“Any requests?”

“Uh,” I started, still looking for a clean top. “Maybe a comedy. We could use something funny.”

“Good point.” He stared for a moment as I kept digging. “You missing something?”

“I can’t find my t-shirt. I thought I packed three in here.”

“Do you want one of mine?”

I paused, considering the offer. One one hand, I wouldn’t have to wear a cami to bed and risk accidentally flashing him in my sleep. One the other, I’d be wearing his shirt and that would be a sure way to get me in my own head. The risks of the first definitely outweighed my lack of self control.

“That would be awesome.”

He walked to his own bag, pulling out a shirt that matched the one he wore and handing it to me.

“I still think wearing our outside clothes to bed worked just fine.”

“Did you ever feel rested doing that?” I asked.

He sighed dramatically. I laughed.

“Exactly my point,” I said. “Most of your well-being has to do with mindset, Dean.”

He grumbled to himself as he settled into bed, and I took that as my chance to get in the bathroom. My shower was quick, especially since Dean used up most of the hot water. I knew I should’ve gone first, but it forced me not to stay in forever. I pulled on his shirt and my shorts, trying not to let myself smile when I saw myself in the mirror wearing his clothes. I walked back into the room before I allowed myself to think too hard.

He looked at me as I walked out, a smile creeping on his face. I fought back my own to raise a brow as I lingered at the foot of my bed.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Funny seeing you in my shirt.”

“Looks better on me than it ever did on you,” I sassed with a smirk, crawling into bed.

“Can’t argue with that,” he noted, still watching me. He cleared his throat a moment later, looking at the TV screen. “Uh, I found something, I think. They had Step Brothers on demand.”

“Oh, perfect,” I said as he clicked play.

We settled into a comfortable silence for a while, and I cuddled into the duvet. After we were halfway through the movie, I gathered the blankets around me even more.

“Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” I asked, looking over to see Dean still sitting above the covers.

“It’s a little cold,” he shrugged, then looked at me. “I can check the heater.”

I nodded as he got up and crossed the room. He held a hand out, a puzzled look on his face after a moment. He smacked it with his hand, and still felt nothing.

“Hm. Hang on,” he said, moving to the phone. “Hi, I think the heater in here’s broken.”

A pause.

“Ah, great. Okay, thanks.”

He hung up the phone, looking to me apologetically.

“They said the heating’s down in the whole place.”

I sighed. “That sucks.”

He sat back in his bed, looking at me for a moment before he spoke again.

“I know it’s been a while since we had to, but do you wanna come sleep in my bed tonight? I run hot, it might keep you warm.”

“I know. I had to sleep next to you in the summer, and it was like roasting in an oven,” I chuckled.

“See? It’ll work perfect when you’re cold,” he said, standing again.

He pulled the covers back, getting underneath and patting the mattress next to him. I cursed myself for finding this case in the first place.

“Just don’t complain if I kick you in my sleep,” I said, getting out of my bed.

He chuckled. “I’m not worried about it.”

I got into his bed, and he threw the covers over me. He then reached over top of me to grab the remote, pressing play and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, leaning into his side.

This position put me in a delicate spot, and I found that to be true more and more with every passing minute. Every time he laughed, I felt it reverberate in his chest. Every time he talked to me, I’d look up to see his face inches from mine. Every time he moved, he held me a little tighter.

In short, Bobby was all too correct about me being screwed.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice soft. “You okay?”

“Mm?”

I looked at him, once again trying not to think about the proximity.

“You always laugh at this scene. You didn’t make a sound this time.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, looking towards the screen. “Sorry, I must be exhausted.”

“Is that all? Seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

“Seriously,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I think I just need some sleep,” I replied, glancing at him again with half a smile.

He quirked a brow, clearly not believing me, but willing to drop the subject.

“Okay. You know you can always talk to me?”

“I know.”

He smiled softly, then looked back at the TV as he shut it off. He settled into bed, still holding onto me. I snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow. I felt him breathe deep before he shut off the light.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

I woke up the next morning before he did, and decided there was little harm in remaining there. I shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy the fact that I was still snuggled against him. It gave me a moment to pretend he was mine, at least for the morning. I listened to his breathing, and wondered if he ever dreamt about me in the same way I did about him. As if on cue, his arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. His thumb brushed against my shoulder where his hand had snuck under the sleeve of the t-shirt, though I couldn’t tell if he was really awake until I felt a soft kiss against the top of my head.

At that moment, I decided it was probably best to continue pretending I was still asleep.

He stayed that way for a little while, his hand still against my shoulder, making little patterns with his thumb. It took everything in me not to move when I felt him brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, and even more when he let his hand linger against my cheek for when felt like a few seconds too long to be purely friendly.

I wondered if he was always like this when I wasn’t awake. Extra attentive, and sure not to wake me. Maybe that’s why I somehow remained asleep every time I fell asleep in the car that normally jostled me around like a rag doll with his driving. I wondered even more if Bobby was right about something else he’d said days ago: the unrequited feelings might not be so unrequited after all.

I nestled my head against his chest, trying to give him a warning that I was about to open my eyes, and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a breath, blinking slowly as I let the light seep in for the second time that morning.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly, his voice still soft and raspy from tiredness.

I smiled. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” he asked, drawing my attention to him.

I nodded, leaning back a little to see him better.

“Very, and I saw a café on the way into town that looked good,” I said.

He smiled softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then, he yawned, finally sitting up. He turned and looked at me as I stayed laying.

“How’d you sleep? Warm enough?”

“Thanks to you, yeah,” I replied, stretching. “I’m scared to get out of bed, now, though.”

He patted my leg over the covers, “If you want food, that should be motivation enough.”

“Good point.”

I reluctantly climbed out of bed as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was cold, but not unbearable. I decided to throw on some clothes in the room since he always took a while in the bathroom. By the time he was finished, all I needed to do was wash my face and brush my teeth, then we were off.

Breakfast was short and sweet, and we made it back to Bobby’s in record time. We strolled in the door, seeing Sam gimping around the kitchen as soon as we walked in.

“Still letting that ankle beat your ass?” I asked immediately.

He laughed. “Trust me, if I had any control over it, this wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Maybe you just wanted out of the hunt,” I said in reply.

“Oh yeah, I loved hanging out and making Bobby bring me ice packs all day. Dream vacation, actually.”

Dean shook his head with a smirk. “You didn’t miss out on much anyway.”

“How’d it go?” Sam asked as he took a seat.

I looked to Dean who was already glancing in my direction. I shrugged.

“We stopped a serial killer, actually,” I noted.

Sam gaped. “And I ‘didn’t miss much’?”

“Just knocked him out and called the cops. Not much fun, anyways,” Dean shrugged. “Oh, we did find maybe the best pancakes I’ve ever had, though.”

I hummed in agreement enthusiastically, nodding.

“They were freaking incredible,” I said, then looked back at Sam. “And they had like, real, fresh maple syrup.”

“Unlimited stacks when you bought the platter, too,” Dean chimed in with a gleeful smile.

“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sam scoffed out with a laugh. “What, did you fall asleep together after reading the newspaper, too?”

“After watching a movie, actually,” Dean corrected, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Then, he looked at me. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam looked between us, a raised brow and an amused look on his face.

“You two actually fell asleep together?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

He smiled mischievously, then looked at Dean.

“Making moves on her, now?”

Dean swallowed, glaring at his brother with wide eyes. I furrowed my brow, about to see if I could prod Sam for information, but Bobby walked in before I had the chance.

“Hey, you two. How was the hunt?”

Dean let out a breath. “Not real eventful. I could use some sleep.”

He started walking out of the room, all of us watching as he left. Bobby turned to me first, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t look at me,” I said with my hands up in defense. “I think Sammy pissed him off.”

“Real smooth, Sam,” Bobby commented.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. Bobby merely sighed, going to take a seat across from Sam. I looked at them both, hands on my hips.

“Why do I get the feeling you two know something I don’t?”

“Did Dean not talk to you?” Sam asked, looking at me.

“We talk plenty.”

“That’s not what I mean. He said he was gonna talk to you when the next case was over,” he stopped, then looked at Bobby. “Case came and went, and still nothing.”

Bobby shrugged. “Out of our hands, Sam. Told you not to meddle.”

I sighed in annoyance. “You two are children, you know that?”

“Hey,” Bobby said, offended.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said finally, turning for the door.

The second I was halfway out, they started talking again, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much about what they said. Clearing my mind sounded like the best option, and I was determined to do it.

I started walking around the yard, music blaring from my phone to keep me preoccupied as I watched the sky light up with a million different colors. I found an old car with a relatively clean exterior and decided to climb onto the hood. I leaned back, watching the sky as it turned darker, the stars slowly peaking out.

“Room for one more?” Dean’s voice asked from behind me.

“Come on up,” I said, scooting over a bit.

He came and sat next to me, looking up at the sky. He let out a slow breath, then looked at me.

“Taylor Swift?”

“You know it,” I replied.

He smiled, turning his head back.

“Stars are coming out,” he commented.

“They are. You should’ve seen sunset, it was gorgeous.”

He scooted closer, leaning his head against mine silently. After a moment, I let myself lean against his shoulder a little more.

“You okay, Dean?” I asked after a beat.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno. You just seemed a little off when we got back today.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It’s— It’s nothing.”

“You sound like me, now.”

He chuckled. “Guess we’ve got the same bad habit, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

We stayed there until it got dark enough to really see the stars come out, not moving even when the chill of the night started creeping in. I readjusted my head against his shoulder, preparing myself to speak again.

“Did you really follow me out here just to look at stars?”

I felt him still. Then, after a moment, I sat up a little straighter and looked at him. He glanced back at me, clearly feeling caught out.

“Thought you could use some company.”

I raised a brow, and he smirked, looking away.

“Alright, you got me,” he said, “What gave it away?”

“First off, I’ve known you for years,” I started, nudging him in the arm. “Second, Sam and Bobby were all uppity about the fact that you apparently told Sam you had something to talk to me about.”

“I swear, he can’t keep a secret to save his life when it comes to stuff like this,” he said, rubbing at his face.

“Well, try me,” I said, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He was extra cute all flustered. “I’m a good listener.”

He let out a breath, then looked at me, scanning my face for a moment.

“I know I’ve got a certain type of reputation—”

“You?! No way,” I exclaimed with a smile, my eyes wide.

He laughed. “Exactly my point.”

“You know I don’t care about that, though. Reputations are a one-sided story.”

He hummed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He sighed, looking back at the sky for a moment.

“I just,” he started, giving a shrug, “I feel like it— Like it makes people feel like I never want anything but a hookup, you know?”

“It makes people feel that way?”

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” he asked, looking at me again with a faint smile. “You. I mean you.”

“I gathered that much.”

He laughed softly, as did I.

“How’d you know?”

“I had suspicions fueled by Bobby. Then you kissed me and started being all affectionate when you thought I was asleep this morning.”

His eyes widened. “You were pretending to be asleep? That’s so not fair!”

“Hey, I woke up snuggled into my own personal space heater, I didn’t exactly want to be up and at ‘em.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging me into his side with an arm around my shoulders once more.

“How long has it been for you?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t even know. I guess I started realizing it a year or so ago.”

“That’s embarrassing for me, then. I knew the second I met you,” he said with a laugh.

“Dean,” I said with surprise. “It’s been half a decade! No wonder Bobby got on my ass about it before we left.”

“Well, hey, Sammy’s been on mine for a couple years. You got off easy up till now.”

I laughed. “I guess so. To be fair, we were flying under the radar for quite a while, though. The incessant flirting the past few weeks is what got us in trouble.”

“Why did you start being extra flirty, anyway?” he asked, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I don’t know. I guess I was, like, subconsciously seeing a window. You haven’t been doing your normal bar hookups the past few months, so I thought maybe there was a reason for it,” I paused. “Though, finding out you’ve been crushing on me for five years kind of makes me question that.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Easier to keep my mind off you that way. That sounds terrible. I just— I never thought in a million years you’d think anything of me.”

“Well, when did you realize I might?”

He sighed. “You remember a couple weeks back when we were taking down that vamp nest? You easily could’ve died, and we hugged afterwards, but when I pulled back I… I saw that look in your eyes that seemed an awful lot like how I look at you when you’re not paying attention. I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t doubt in that moment that you would’ve let me if I had.”

I paused. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long, and we practically do everything together. I didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that I was reading those signs all wrong.”

“You weren’t.”

He fell quiet for a moment. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me as I did. He quickly wet his lips, drawing my gaze downward before my eyes flicked back up to his. His lips parted momentarily. Then…

“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” he said quickly.

I nodded curtly, pulling away to let him get off the hood first. He gave me a hand, helping me down next. We walked back to the house quietly, saying soft goodnights before we went to separate rooms.

I was all settled in for the night, cozy in my bed with a book in hand. Then, I heard a knock on the door. I grumbled as I got up, annoyed that I had to leave the comfort of a mattress that wasn’t a sure cesspool of germs I didn’t want to think about. I flung the door open.

“Someone better be dying or I’m gonna kick some ass for—”

Dean’s lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me from my rant. I melted after a few seconds of mental delay, my hands gripping onto the material of his shirt as his cradled my face. I felt him smile into the kiss, drawing my closer with arms that snuck around my waist, holding me tight. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss once he was sure that the signs were all giving him a positive response.

We finally broke apart a few minutes later, breathing heavy with pounding hearts.

“I figured I should stop letting opportunities pass me up,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good thinking.”

His eyes scanned over me, his chest still heaving.

“You wouldn’t happen to need another space heater for the night, would you?”

“I run cold, what can I say?” I replied with a smirk, and a spark in my eye.

He smiled, walking me into the room with his lips on mine, kicking the door shut behind him.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

[eyesofshinigami]

3, 2, 1, Fight!

Rating: General Audiences

Tags: Meet Ugly, Steve and Dustin are brothers, pre-relationship

Written for the STWG daily drabble prompt: not a meet cute but a meet ugly

This is not at all how Steve pictured his Saturday going. He could be anywhere, instead, he’s standing in a comic book shop, fighting over a toy with another grown man who looks like he’s going to beat Steve over the head with it.

“Let go!” the guy yells, trying to tug the action figure out of Steve’s hands

“No, you let go!” Steve yells back, yanking it back. He has to give the guy props, though. He’s just as relentless as Steve is.

The guy sputters, an attractive shade of pink coloring his cheeks as his curly hair falls in his face. Wait, what? “Fuck off, why are you even here? Don’t you belong in a gym or something?”

Steve scoffs, still yanking. “Does it matter why I’m here? Just let go already!”

Dustin had been asking for this action figure for months now, talking about it and showing Steve newspaper clippings and TV commercials. Steve, being the good big brother he is, promised their mom that he would do his best to get it for him for his upcoming birthday. He’d be damned if he was going to let some punk, albeit a very attractive punk, take it away from him. Why did they only put three out on the shelf anyway?

They play tug of war for another few minutes, until the bewildered clerk, who had been watching their exchange, finally butts in and says, “Uh, I think I might have another one in the back? Can you wait here?”

They both nod, neither of them letting go of the toy. “I wish he would have said that in the first place,” Steve grouses, watching the clerk disappear behind a door. “Why they only put out a couple of copies of a toy I will never understand.”

It’s Hot Guy’s turn to sputter. “Toy? TOY? This, sir, is the limited edition statue of Kas the Betrayer that Wizard of the Coast put out to celebrate the anniversary of his DnD release! Not that you would care about any of that, you troglodyte.”

Steve has no idea what any of that means. “Oh, so that’s why Dustin wanted it. Makes sense now. He loves that guy.”

“Wait, it’s not for you?”

“Uh, no? It’s for my kid brother’s birthday. He loves that Dorks and Dragons game and he ran a Kas… uh… campaign? Last year? It was his first time. Kas is kind of a big deal to him.”

The other guy starts to look a little contemplative, but that’s when the clerk appears with another, much less rankled looking box. Steve immediately lets the one in his hands go and takes that one instead. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

The clerk shrugs and heads back behind the counter. Meanwhile, Hot Guy tugs his hair in front of his face. “Uh, look. I’m sorry I said such shitty things over a toy. It’s just, Kas is kind of a big deal to me too. You could have just said.”

Steve waves him off. “No worries, I get it. But now we both have one.” He pauses and considers a second. It’s worth a shot. “You could make it up to me over lunch in the food court.”

Hot Guy’s eyes go wide. “Are you serious?”

Okay, wow. “Well, I was, but you can just say no, you don’t have to-“

“No, no, no!” Hot Guy says, waving his arms around, nearly dropping the box he fought so hard for. “No, I’d like that. Eddie,” he says, holding out a hand. That pretty pink flush is back. Steve kind of wants to see how far it goes down.

“Steve. Now let’s go, before any more wayward nerds decide they want to fight us over these.”

Eddie, dork that he is, bows and motions towards the cash register, “By your leave, my prince.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He always did like the nerdy ones.

[kikitakite]

I saw your callout in the Gale tag for that one user (no comment on them, tho ty for the callout bc i'd seen them in the notes of my fics) and was curious if you could elaborate on some of the Mystra incidents you described towards the end of the post? I'm new to the lore of the setting and find it hard to research (which makes sense given its importance to dnd), so I've heard a lot of conflicting things about Mystra's portrayal in the wider series. No pressure, obviously!

No problem! And yea, I've seen her arguing in the posts of a few people I follow or just Gale-related posts I find interesting. Usually I don't get involved in stuff like this, but I noticed a constant pattern and then all the homophobic shit so I went off a little.

Unfortunately it's hard to find exact examples of the Mystra lore because certain modules aren't very popular or even free to access, but if you're interested the best way to learn about her is by reading the Elminster novels. There's twelve total, dating all the way back to 1994, and they detail Elminster's adventures. I'll be honest though, some of them are a hard read and written through the lens of a man who's admitted very creative, but also has a lot of problematic ideas.

In the first book Elminster is a child. His entire town gets wiped out by mages, thereby making him hostile toward magic. He sneaks into Mystra's temple to deface her statue one night, but she appears before him and basically gaslights him into learning magic and becoming her rare Chosen. He becomes a wizard and cleric basically overnight, until eventually he multiclasses into pretty much every class type in DnD. As you can imagine a lot of players aren't too fond of Elminster, as he's a well known self-insert of the author and pretty annoying to run into during campaigns. None of my dungeon masters like him anyway.

He also becomes one of Mystra's most loyal followers, but she fucks with him over and over, turning him into a woman to teach him a lesson and SLEEPING with him in that form, berating him when he struggles with the torture he endures when he gets stuck in the hells, making him reproduce without his knowledge and getting jealous when he gives his partners more attention. Because she's a very jealous goddess, which I think the game vaguely touches on but not really.

I wish I had the time to flip through all the novels and give exact citations but the best I can do is suggest them, because they're so eye opening. She's considered a neutral good goddess, but neutral gods often do terrible things for the sake of their domain. I think it needs to be noted that Mystra, as with all gods in the pantheon, only cares about her portfolio. She isn't wrong for that, but it doesn't mean she's blameless when she messes with people's lives. She's done a lot of good but she's also made horrible decisions, especially where her followers are concerned.

For example, Elminster having children he doesn't know about. He has a daughter named Narnra. Her conception was... pretty fucked up. Basically a song dragon named Ammaratha Cyndusk was an occasional lover of Elminster's (he has a lot of those because of course he does) and she wanted to bear his child, but since he's a Chosen of Mystra he can control his fertility. Magic birth control, basically. He didn't want a kid so Ammaratha went behind his back to learn a counterspell that would make him fertile during sex. The man she asked refused to teach her because...duh that's messed up, but then Mystra intervened and told him to teach her the spell because she wanted Elminster's "seed to spread". Ammaratha never told him and neither did Mystra. No matter what the reasons, that was NOT consensual on Elminster's part, and it happened two more times, resulting in two more daughters with different women. If I remember correctly Elminster did eventually find out waaaaay later when they were all adults, but it never amounted to anything.

The sisters I was taking about are the Seven Sisters, Mystra's "daughters". And I put "daughters" in quotations because Mystra possessed the body of a woman named Elué and impregnated her without her consent. She slept with the woman's husband (again, while possessing her body) and made them sire seven children. This of course lead to Elué's death because the constant flow of magic in her body was too much for her to handle. Her grieving husband broke after she died and eventually left, abandoning his daughters and earning Mystra's scorn...as if he was in the wrong. The sisters were then orphaned and raised by foster families.

That said, most of the awful things anyone can say about Mystra were the doings of her previous incarnations so ultimately it doesn't apply to the Mystra of BG3. In fact, this third Mystra is supposed to be a new and improved goddess who's nicer to her followers. So her portrayal in BG3 annoyed a lot of DnD fans. I should also point out that Mystra has two types of fans: ones who will defend everything she does, even when it's fucked up beyond all comprehension, and the ones who will tell you she's a true neutral goddess capable of good and bad. I'm the latter. There are plenty examples of Mystra sticking her neck out for innocents, but there's also examples of her doing the most horrendous shit imaginable.

A lot of veteran players, at least the ones I know, are upset with the portrayal of Mystra in BG3 because her plan to end the Absolute is, quite frankly, stupid. Your party is the best chance anyone has of ending the threat, but she asks Gale to nuke himself and possibly tens of thousands, which makes no sense because she could've just sent her mages/clerics to deal with the problem. And there was no guarantee the bomb would've worked anyway. She put all the responsibility on one man and it DEFINITELY comes off as vindictive. That isn't out if character for her but she's not SUPPOSED to be that bad anymore. For a lot of DnD players it felt like she was reverting back to her old habits.

I think there's also a part in the game where you can directly ask Gale why she doesn't just blip the Absolute out of existence and he says something like, "She could but Ao won't allow it." That was also really strange for a lot of veteran players to hear because Gale drops Ao's name like it's nothing. Most people (especially if they're new to the franchise) wouldn't know this but most people in Faerûn don't know who Ao is! Because he wiped people's memories of his existence! I suppose it does make sense for Gale to know that name, since Mystra probably explained the pantheon to him, but it's VERY unlikely tav would know it. So during that conversation all I could picture was tav tilting their head like, "Huh? Who? Whaaa?"

And on top of that......Ao absolutely WOULD allow it because the Absolute effects the Weave and every other god! It had the potential to ruin the balance of the universe, which makes Ao a very angry boy. Balance is one of the ONLY things he cares about. The Dead Three were stealing souls and worshippers, which gods needs to survive, and dying gods disrupts the balance. It's a whole circle of chaos. So the only conclusion left for me to extrapolate is this: Mystra just really, really wanted Gale to kill himself to prove his devotion to her. Which...isn't great. Bad look for her.

It's kind of like how Raphael thinks the Crown of Karsus is going to help him end the Blood War and take over the hells. DnD players laughed during his epilogue because...no it won't lol. He doesn't stand a chance even with the crown. He's arrogant and he's gonna get slapped by his daddy and all the other archdevils, the same way Gale gets slapped by Mystra if he ascends. Even the Absolute ending of the game wouldn't last long because the gods would go to war with the Dead Three, wipe them out and rebuild Faerûn, which has happened many times in past DnD campaigns. Mystra alone has torn worlds apart and glued them back together. The main crisis of BG3 is saving the world you live in or everybody dies. For the gods it's just a Tuesday. I mean look at how Withers owns the Dead Three with a wave of his hand at the end of the game. Mystra COULD'VE killed the Absolute, just as she could've removed the orb from Gale's chest the moment it happened. She just didn't WANT to. She wanted him to die. She wanted him to chastise himself. She wanted him to suffer and come crawling back to her as an obedient follower. She wanted him to learn a harsh and honestly unfair lesson, which is a terrible throwback to her previous incarnations.

[scoops-aboy86]

Your Smile Is My Favorite

Prompt Used: Summer reading (@thehairandthebanished) and cheesy pickup lines (@softsteddieseptember) | Your Smile Is My Favorite | Rating: T | CW: mild body image issues | Additional Tags: chubby Steve Harrington, gay Eddie Munson, pining, bizarre communication through intricate pickup line rituals, Robin loves these two idiots

I wrote most of this while on a 11 hour car trip, I’ll post it to ao3 later. 🥱 Still the 4th in my time zone though!

It’s hard to stay absorbed in a book when Steve Harrington is swimming laps in his little red shorts, but Eddie is managing. 

Sort of. Kinda. 

Okay, not really. Or at all. 

But he’s read Return of the King so many times before that he can fill in any paragraphs his eyes accidentally skim over from memory, so it’s fine. And he definitely rolled high on stealth by being smart enough to bring sunglasses, because Middle Earth has nothing on his view of Steve’s chest while the guy does the backstroke. 

Earlier in the summer Steve would have been poolside with Eddie and Robin, sprawled out in the sun snacking on pizza and chips with them and letting Eddie draw him into their umpteenth debate on which is better, Coca Cola or Mountain Dew. Now he’s going at it in the pool like he has something to prove, or diving in over and over while complaining about his form. 

Which, Eddie thinks, is a very fine form indeed. He’s thickened up some since their harrowing adventures last Spring Break, transformed from merely good-looking to downright beefy in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth water and fingers twitch with the urge to rake through that tantalizing chest hair, test the give of Steve’s deliciously softer pecs and stomach. It’s starting to become a problem. 

As if Aragorn, son of Arathorn, would have an easier time concentrating on a book about the Party’s adventures if Arwen were parading around in front of him while scantily clad, Eddie thinks, trying to make himself feel like a little bit less of a pining loser. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Robin says, sounding bored from the next lounge chair over. She hasn’t even looked up from her own book. 

Eddie considers protesting. He could; they’ve never actually discussed the way they’d clocked each other as queer during Spring Break, he has plausible deniability. 

Instead, he says, “Got a camera you can loan me, Birdie?”

She snorts, sliding her bookmark into place as she turns towards him on her lounger. “No, but now that we’re talking about it, can we talk about how your crush is visible from, like, space?”

“He is not!” The protest tumbles out of him before Eddie even thinks about it, and his cheeks immediately flare red under layers of sunblock. It’s not like Robin would talk about the way her platonic soulmate had recently put on some extra weight like that, Eddie is just a moron. Well, he’ll just have to blow past it and pretend he’d been… bluffing about his crush not being Steve. Yeah. “Uh, I mean. Fuck, I’m not being too obvious, am I?”

Robin’s grin is smug, and definitely a little bit at his expense. “Not really. You’re super easily distracted when there’s more people around, so the kids haven’t picked up on it yet.” She glances back at the pool and the expression softens to amused affection. “It’s written all over your face right now, but I’m pretty sure dingus over there has this fixed idea about your type being all dark clothes and leather and tattoos. He’ll never figure it out on his own, completely hopeless.”

That’s a relief to hear. Eddie relaxes beneath the shade of his poolside umbrella, glances down at his book again… 

And snaps it shut and scrunches up on his side to face her too. He’ll be able to find his place again later, more or less. The occasional splashes of Steve reaching one side of the pool and flipping around to swim back fades into the background for the first time all day in the face of this new, unexplored conversational territory. 

“So,” he says matter-of-factly. Because he’s reconciled with this a long time ago: Robin has literally helped save his life a number of times, she’s safe. “Clearly you’ve got me all figured out. And there’s no way you could be around that all the time and still get anything done without being… oppositely inclined.”

She nods, and the teeny tiny bit of him that had been braced just in case he was wrong relaxes. “Yeah. I don’t see the appeal, but I’ve literally seen a few girls walk into things when they catch sight of him.”

Eddie snickers, like the hypocrite slightly wired on nerves and relief that he is. Curbs, trash cans, the glass doors of Family Video… he’s been there, done that, and been forced to turn it into a bit so no one catches on to what all of those instances had in common. (Steve smiling at him. Steve looking at him. Just, Steve.)

“Not as many lately though,” Robin confides, a little sad. “Shallow bitches.”

“Shallow as hell,” Eddie agrees. One hundred percent. “They have no idea what they’re missing out on.”

“It’s taking a toll on him,” she continues. “You know, how his hair kinda deflates a little when he’s bummed out? Those great big puppy dog eyes come out and it’s all—” her voice drops in a possible Steve impression “—‘Is it me, Rob? What am I doing wrong?’”

Eddie huffs a wordless disagreement with that whole sentiment. Wrong with Steve? Wrong with Steve? There’s nothing wrong with Steve, in his opinion. Badass scars, heart of gold, hair of the gods, and a little more meat on his bones making him even more solid and dependable? Sign Eddie the fuck up. 

Sure, there’s also the nightmares and a general jumpiness whenever the phone rings or lights flicker or a radio starts to crackle, but the same can be said of pretty much everyone in the Party, Eddie included. It’s perfectly understandable after everything they’ve been through, the number of times they’ve helped save the world. 

“I think that’s why he’s leaning so hard into swimming again,” Robin adds. And even though she seems totally casual, there’s something… not pointed, exactly, but definitely not dull behind her words. She’s giving him a look that Eddie can’t figure out, because he just doesn’t have the same kind of in-tune-ness with her that she and Steve display on a regular basis, having conversations with nothing but stares, blinks, and funny eyebrow twitches. 

He tries anyway. Even pushes his sunglasses up into his hair for a clearer look, but message not received. Frowning, he glances over his shoulder at the pool again. “Because he’s… upset about not going on dates lately?”

Not that Eddie had been paying attention or anything. Not that he’d daydreamed hopelessly a few times that it was because Steve was hung up on him, lingering a bit more than necessary when dropping off and picking up the kids on Hellfire days. Inviting Eddie to hangout days like this. Taking Eddie up on it whenever he offers to smoke the guy out, usually when they both have dark circles from sleeping poorly blooming under their eyes and everything about the no longer in peril world around them feels like too much. Springing for fast food whenever they get the munchies, since Eddie supplied the grass…

“Because he thinks there’s something wrong about him,” Robin corrects, “that he needs to work out.” 

Oh. What—oh. Eddie blinks, reorients, and realizes that the thing he hadn’t been able to read before is concern. “But… he looks so good,” he says dumbly. 

Steve is self-conscious about his weight? Oh no, that won’t do at all. Eddie’s mind is already racing through ways to reassure their friend that he looks great, fantastic, amazing, all the positive adjectives that he knows. He wants to build Steve up, make sure he knows that there are definitely people who would absolutely jump at the chance to be with him. 

Or, you know, right here. Or something. 

Splashing sounds draw his attention back to the pool, and it’s Steve wading up the shallow end towards them, apparently tired out for the time being. And Eddie… panics. 

“Damn, Harrington,” he blurts out, “is it hot out here or is it just you?”

Which is. It’s. Something out of that terrible pickup lines book one of the Corroded Coffin guys found at a yard sale a few weeks ago—he can’t remember who exactly, maybe Jeff?—that they’d all howled over, reading the worst ones out loud in ridiculous voices. Why the hell is that what popped into his head?

Steve pauses with one foot still in the pool, squinting at him. “Uh… It’s definitely hot today. Are you… overheated or something? I could get you some ice water.”

“No, I’m good,” Eddie manages. And then, because he’s an idiot, he continues, “Have I told you lately that you’re very attractive? You must eat magnets for breakfast.”

He catches a glimpse of Robin out of the corner of one eye. For a second he hopes that she might step in and save him from himself, but nope; her face is frozen in a look of appalled fascination. No help coming from that quarter. 

“I,” Steve starts, stepping the rest of the way out of the pool and putting both hands on his hips like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “Dude, are you high?”

If only he were. The proximity of Steve’s naked, dripping wet chest and the gentle roll over the top of his swim trunks seems to have roughly the same effect on him though. 

“Nope,” Eddie squeaks. His face feels incandescent, and he can’t even blame it on a sunburn. And still he opens his mouth again, because he’s already gone this far, might as well commit to the bit. “But we should smoke up later, sweetheart. I think weed be really good together.”

That one wasn’t from the book. It’s an Eddie Munson original. If death took him now, he would not hate it. 

Steve looks to Robin, who shrugs and throws him a towel. He catches it and starts drying his hair, returning his attention to Eddie with a perplexed look. “Low blood sugar?” he asks, and it takes a second for Eddie to place that Steve is still trying to guess why he’s being so weird. 

As if the Freak of Hawkins needs something so pedestrian as a reason. 

“We can order pizza,” Robin suggests in a strangled voice. She’s trying so hard not to laugh, which is good. Probably. 

Eddie can muster a little gratitude for that, right up until he opens his mouth again and “Oh, are you craving pizza? Because I’d love to get a pizz-a you” falls out. 

… Maybe he does have low blood sugar. Or, like. A brain tumor or something. 

Steve sends Robin another look, then shrugs and heads inside the house. Presumably to order pizza, and hopefully for Eddie’s sanity to put on a shirt. 

As soon as the glass door slides shut behind him, Robin whips around and whisper yells, “What the hell was that?!”

Eddie throws himself back on his lounger and covers his face with both hands. “I don’t know. I wanted to cheer him up, make him feel good about himself or something, but—”

“And you thought hitting on him would do the trick? Very badly, I might add!”

“Oh, like you know anything about what works when hitting on dudes!” Eddie shoots back, even though she’s right. So very right. Cruelly correct, to a poor gay man who is suffering. 

He rolls over on the chair, only putting a knee or elbow through the plastic straps beneath him a few times before flopping face down and tugging his own unused towel over his entire head. It’s almost restful under there. The lounger cradles his face a little too high because the back is still angled slightly up for, you know, lounging… and Return of the King is dry and solid under one shoulder, twisting his frame a little oddly, but other than that…

~

By the time Steve comes back outside, Eddie barely notices. He feels slow and drowsy from the heat, everything muffled by the towel. But he does hear a scrape over the concrete beneath him and cracks an eye open to peer through the gaps in the chair. 

It’s a slice of pepperoni and extra cheese on a paper plate, positioned directly below his head, right where he can smell it. 

Fuck, okay. He can’t not get up for food freely offered. It’s just not how Wayne raised him. 

“There you are,” Steve says brightly when Eddie emerges and resituates himself with the plate in hand. “Feeling better? Seemed like the heat was getting to you there.”

“Must’ve,” Eddie replies with a weak laugh. “Thanks.” For the pizza, and for allowing him some semblance of dignity to fall back on after… whatever that had been. Because Steve, above all else, is a good dude; something Eddie has been all too aware of for over a year now. 

Steve passes him a can of Mountain Dew and taps his own Coke can against it like a toast. “Don’t mention it. And, uh, Eds…” He’s starting to smile, just a little. “I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I think you're the gratest.”

Somewhere to Eddie’s other side, Robin chokes on her drink and has to cough a few times to clear it. 

Eddie just stares, jaw dropped open and feeling flushed all over, heart in his throat. Even with his hair still wet and smelling strongly of chlorine, Steve has somehow retained that signature swoop. Maybe he fixed it while he was inside, procuring pizza and slipping into an old and raggedy high school gym shirt that makes him only slightly less biteable. 

And that smile, fully bloomed now and brighter than the afternoon sun. Like he’s decided, playfully, to meet Eddie at his level no matter how dumb it is. 

“Alright,” Robin rasps. “Okay. I’m just gonna go inside to finish my summer reading while you dingi do… whatever this is.” Followed by the creak of her chair as she clambers off. 

“Don’t mess with the thermostat,” Steve calls after her. He turns slightly to do it and releases Eddie from his tractor beam stare, letting Eddie breathe again—when had he stopped doing that? And then those hazel eyes are back on him, hypnotizing. “Well? Cat got your tongue, or do you have any more?”

The words are… different, now that they’re alone. Quieter. Steve is leaning forward slightly, legs over the side of the chair as he faces Eddie. Elbows on his knees and Coke can dangling forgotten from one big hand. His stare is intense in a way that is almost too terrifying to try to read into. 

Eddie wets his lips nervously. “No, I… I’ve got more.” He sits up a little straighter, turns to put his feet down on the shaded but still warm concrete and face Steve head-on. “I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.”

It sounds, feels, almost terrifyingly like a confession. 

Steve’s grin gets impossibly brighter and Eddie is back to not daring to breathe, because what is happening. “Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.”

Which is. That’s. Does he? Eddie is having some sort of out of body experience trying to think back. 

The part of him that’s still anchored in bones and nerves and skin takes a deep breath. Committing to it. 

“Of all the beautiful curves on your body, your smile is my favorite,” he hears himself say, and it’s probably the plainest, most honest words he’s uttered in his entire twenty-one years of life. 

It’s not like he thinks Steve is going to punch him for saying it. Or even for saying it like that. Good dude, inescapable. But he wasn’t expecting the guy’s eyes to go big and molten, or for him to swallow hard, all while that amazing smile never dims. 

“I’m… Shit, I’m going to give you a kiss, Eddie. If you don't like it, you can return it.”

And then Steve leans forward, and does. 

~

Half an hour later, Robin comes back outside to check on them and finds the two young men twined together on one lounger. Steve is sprawled half on top of Eddie, who looks like he’s holding him in place with both legs and teasing a half eaten slice of pizza against Steve’s mouth. Steve snaps at it with his teeth, and Eddie yanks it away but then goes back in to tap it against his lips anyway with a laugh, loose and easy. Happy. 

They both look so happy together. 

She knew it. All she’d had to do was get those two pining idiots talking about something real—even if Eddie had surprised her with a deeply unexpected means of doing so. Whatever, he’s weird, nothing new there. The important thing is that her plan to end her two best friends’ ridiculous mutual pining for one another had worked. 

And Steve hadn’t believed her when she’d insisted that the metalhead definitely doesn’t think it’s a bad thing that his clothes all fit a little more snug these days. Ha. One more tally on her own You Rule column. 

Feeling magnanimous, Robin decides to wait until they’re done with lunch to turn the hose on them. 

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[maralarsen]

Does he love me? >⁠.⁠<🎀

~Theodore Nott x reader~

WARNING: cursing

Fluff/Little angst

° | friends to lovers| °

° |Summary: Theo starts to be too nice and the reader wants to solve it

° | I'm starting to feel that my stories are boring even though I've only written 3 of them and one of them is supposed to have a sequel

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who ever thought that the important books would be the highest," I jumped to grab the book on the elixir, but of course like the two attempts before and now I missed. "Sh*t!" I sinned, "pretty girls shouldn't swear."

I turned at the sound of a rather familiar voice. "Theo stop kidding and help me," why am I jumping for a book when he just reaches out and has it right away.

"Try to ask," he said with a smirk.

"I can see how much you enjoy watching me struggle with my height, Mr. Supreme!" but he just smiled and sat down on the nearest chair. He probably won't really help me if I don't ask.

Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not one of "his girls" who will ask him for something. I've known Theo long enough to not be naive that he likes me even though I had him. It's too much to say that I she could admit that at all.

But I'm not going to ask him for one stupid book.

CHAIR.

God, why didn't I think of that sooner. I walked over to the chair that was next to him, on which he was sitting, and moved it to the bookshelf.

"Why don't you just use a wand?" he asked me. "Because I probably forgot it?!" I reached for the book and took it in my hand, "ha, finally!" I raised my hands in the air as a sign of victory and I jumped from my chair to push her to her place.

"What are you planning for the evening?" I turned to face him, "I definitely don't intend to sleep under the image of God." I answered his question truthfully.

I wasn't the type to go to a party and then go to sleep and wake up in someone else's bed in the morning.

"Too bad, I thought you would come today," I raised an eyebrow at him, "and why?" he smiled at me and got up from his chair and slowly walked towards me.

He brushed a stray strand of my (c/h) hair out of my face and tucked it into place, behind my ear. "I don't even know myself, I had a feeling that you would say yes this time," I looked at him in disbelief, I was shocked by his actions.

There was always a friendly atmosphere between us and none of us ever crossed it. Why he suddenly behaves like that is strange to me.

"But as you can see I said no," I pulled away from him and left the library with the book in my hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later:

Interactions with Theo became more and more frequent.

Touching hands more often while walking. Hugging more often when saying goodbye. More frequent peeking during class. And more often compliments.

It didn't bother me because one side of me screamed after every touch of his, but the other warned me against this and shouted to be careful.

But as it usually happens with a teenage girl in love, the first page won me over. I longed for his touch, for his caress, for every compliment. He was literally making me a desperate pile of misery. Well, I didn't show anything on the outside. At least I tried, I don't know if it really worked.

I wanted to talk to him about this. Because all he gave me was a sweep. I didn't know what to expect from him. Is he serious or just kidding?

This is how I ended up in Pansy's room. "Pansy please give me some advice," I begged her with desperation in my voice. "I think you should go see him…ouch!" she tried to give me advice while doing her makeup for today's Slytherin party.

Unfortunately, this combination ended with a pencil sticking into her eye. "Are you okay?" "Ow. Hey, I just pricked myself, shit." she put the pencil down and sat on the bed next to me. "Listen, go after him," "but what if he..." I started playing with the laces on my sweatshirt.

"No problem! F*ck you woman, you're only young once, so f*ck him if you love him. And also everything points to the fact that he loves you too!" I looked at her.

"But what if I don't love him, what if it's just an infatuation that we'll regret later?!" I threw up my hands. That's what I was most afraid of, that it was just an infatuation, nothing more than a little romance. And I will hurt him and our friendship.

“Listen, (y/n/n)! If you didn't love him and it was just a romance, just an infatuation, you wouldn't be despairing over it now. You wouldn't care. And something tells me he feels the same way. At this time she's always on the astronomical tower smoking." I smiled at her and hugged her.

"Why did I deserve you Pans, thank you!" she grabbed my hands and said: "You'll thank me later now run," definitely I didn't hesitate any longer and ran to the door.

I literally ran through the corridors to get to the astronomical tower as soon as possible and catch him there. When I finally got there, I stopped in front of the stairs. What if he rejects me...NO! Enough of the doubt it's now or never!

I confidently walked up the stairs. I saw him leaning against a pillar smoking. My self-confidence left me the moment he noticed me and put out his cigarette. "What are you doing here?" he asked me. "Theo, we need to talk!" he raised his eyebrows "Did I do something?" Yes you did! I walked closer to him "Damn you realize what you're doing to me. The unexpected affection. Why Theodore, why now. If you just want me in bed then do it right now stop. Because you won't get me there even though I love you so much that I'm afraid to admit it to myself. God, you can't even imagine how much I was bothered by all those girls clinging to you and..." it was so fast that I didn't even have time to react .

One moment he was leaning against a pillar the next his lips were on mine. It was a kiss worth a million unheard words. A kiss that confirmed mutual affection.

He pulled away first with his right hand on my waist and his left on my face. When did he manage to put them there? "F*ck! You don't even realize how long I wanted to kiss you. Feel your lips on mine. I love you. And I'm finally not afraid to admit it. I've loved you since the day I saw you for the first time, even though as an 11-year-old I didn't even realize it and didn't know what love was. Hence all the affection. That's why now. Because when I saw you in that library. That's when I realized that I don't want anyone but you. Only you and your personality." when he spoke, I couldn't believe his words. I had never seen so many emotions in his eyes in my life.

"Theo I don't know what to say," I dreamily looked into his stormy blue eyes.

"Don't say anything just love me. Love me like your life depends on it because I already do," he loves me.

Theodore Nott loves me! Me!

Now I wanted only one thing: "Kiss me." Please!" I begged him. "Are you seriously begging? You (y/n) (y/l)?" "Yes please. And now please do it!" He smirked and his lips met mine, but now with more softness than if they were made of glass and he has to take care of them and protect them so they don't break.

I kissed him back and my hands tangled in his hair and they pulled him closer. He pushed me against the wall in return. I finally felt complete as if I had always belonged in his arms.

I pulled away from his hungry mouth "I love you! Theodore Nott," "I love you too (y /n) (y/l). More than you can imagine," I smiled at him and pressed my forehead to his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for the mistakes

• If you have any requests for a story, write to me ☺️

[violenteconomics]

remember this post i made about ace and epel (and eventually the other freshmen) pranking their upperclassmen?

yeah, so, here’s an idea for a significantly less funny prequel:

the first-years actually met their housewardens as kids, where they got very attached to one another, but absolutely none of them remember this. 

i’ve got a drabble written for riddle, ace, and deuce, but for the others, i’m completely lost, lol.

^

(warning: mentions of child abuse)

^

4-year-old ace trappola, a pint-sized brat who loses a ball in dr rosehearts’s backyard. since dr rosehearts has an extremely sour reputation around town for being impossible to be polite with, ace decides it’s not worth the patience it’ll take to knock on her door. so instead, he climbs her fence to retrieve it.

that’s when he notices the boy sitting by the windowsill, with a thousand books stacked all around him, looking very intrigued at the book in his hands. ace has never seen someone so engrossed with a book that doesn’t even have a picture on the cover, and having absolutely no filter, even at that age, he simply walks up to him and asks what he’s doing.

at first, riddle tries to shoo him away, knowing how his mother will react when she finds out there’s a random kid stepping on her perfectly-cut grass. eventually, though, ace’s childish stubbornness wins out, and riddle tells him about the history book he’s reading.

[ace is alice and riddle is alice’s sister in this scenario in case you don’t get the reference, they make me insane, okay—]

everyday, ace comes back to the windowsill at the same time (at riddle’s request, because he only has so much independent study time) just to listen to him. everyday, he says that it’s stupid, boring, and he can’t believe riddle actually reads book without pictures. everyday, he comes back to sit under riddle’s windowsill and listen to him go on about food chemistry.

but then dr rosehearts finds out.

ace doesn’t really know what happens after she showed up to their doorstep, looking down on him like he was a bug underneath her heeled feet, but next thing he knows, his dad’s telling him and brother that they’re moving to a different town. he tells ace that their house just isn’t pretty enough, but ace is young— not stupid.

(in the future, whenever ace scores high on a test, and riddle will smile and tell him he’s proud of him. every single time, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth for reasons ace can’t explain.)

^

5-year-old deuce spade only knows ace as “the kid who moved out”, but through some wicked twist of fate, he’s the next person to lose something in dr roseheart’s backyard.

deuce’s mom actually used to work for dr rosehearts as her secretary, but deuce doesn’t really like her, because she used to make his mom work long hours with little pay in return. his mom lived in dr rosehearts’s medical practice more than she actually lived in the crappy apartment they could barely afford. he was so glad when she quit.

but unfortunately, dr rosehearts’s house is right next to the park, and losing balls in her garden is unfortunately very common for most kids in the neighborhood. and since deuce really doesn’t want to talk to her, he jumps over her fence instead.

this time, riddle’s the one who notices him.

riddle’s missing ace a lot (he never found out why he stopped coming around), so to fill the hole in his heart, he invited deuce over. sheepishly, deuce walks over and lets riddle tell him about the book on agricultural trade he’s been reading. deuce doesn’t quite get it as fast as ace did, but unlike ace, he’s patient and hard-working and oh-so earnest in his attempts to understand.

of course, dr rosehearts isn’t going to help this relationship in the slightest. a few weeks later, she waits for deuce right outside the fence, before dragging him off once he’s out of riddle’s view. she mocks his attempts at trying to learn something that’s clearly above his mental capacity, for trying to be someone above his station, for knowing the rules and being too stupid to stick to them.

(“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules?”)

when she delivers deuce back to his house, his mother says nothing. when she tells him they’re moving to a bigger house on the complete other side of the queendom, deuce doesn’t argue.

(deuce couldn’t tell you why doing so bad in school frustrated him to the point of becoming a delinquent. he really couldn't.)

[amethystarachnid]

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: Everyone in school knows that you and Tony are endgame, probably the best couple in school. But when a new girl arrives in school and tries to get between you two things get a little heated, but the love between you and Tony is strong, so you have nothing to worry about.

ᯓ★ TW(s): a girl tries to get between you and Tony so drama but really nothing serious that needs a tw

ᯓ★ AU: high school

ᯓ★ Request: Can you write High School AU with Tony? High dose of fluff, study dates, and kisses? ❤️ (female reader, and you can add more topics, for sure 💕) (@little-angel-oc )

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

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You’re not sure what to make of Tony Stark when you first meet him. He’s brash, cocky, and has a grin that seems to be permanently fixed on his face. It’s your first day at Midtown High, and of course, he’s the first person you bump into—literally. The books in your arms scatter across the hallway floor, and you barely have time to react before he’s crouching down to help you gather them.

“Whoa there, new kid. You okay?” His voice is smooth, confident, and it makes your heart stutter for a second, though you’re not sure if it’s from nerves or irritation.

You mumble a quick thank you, avoiding his gaze as you stand, adjusting your backpack awkwardly on your shoulders. You expect him to walk away—guys like him usually do—but Tony doesn’t. He leans casually against the lockers, eyes sparkling with amusement as he looks at you, like you’re some puzzle he’s eager to solve.

“Where you headed? I could show you around,” he offers, but the smirk on his lips suggests there’s more than just friendly assistance on his mind.

You decline politely, trying to disappear into the crowd of students rushing to their classes. But Tony Stark isn’t the kind of guy you can avoid for long.

Weeks pass, and somehow, you find yourself drawn to him despite your initial impression. He’s everywhere—at lunch, in the library, and most annoyingly, in your chemistry class. Tony's always surrounded by friends, always the center of attention, yet whenever you catch his eye, he winks or sends you a sly smile. It’s infuriating and kind of… charming?

One day, as you struggle to understand the periodic table, a familiar voice breaks your concentration.

“Need some help with that?”

You look up to find Tony leaning over your desk, his eyes scanning your notes. Before you can protest, he slides into the seat next to you, grabbing your pencil and scribbling something in the margin of your notebook.

“Here. You were just missing this part.”

You stare at the neat, concise explanation he’s written. He’s actually right. You glance at him, surprised, and he grins, looking far too pleased with himself.

“I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

That’s the beginning. The moment when everything shifts.

The first time you agree to study with Tony is in the library, after school. You think it’s going to be more of the same—him goofing off, you trying to stay focused. But when you sit down at a table together, Tony’s different. He’s serious, focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he explains things in a way that makes everything click.

He’s smart. Really smart. And it catches you off guard.

“You didn’t think I’d actually help, did you?” he teases when he notices your stunned expression. You shake your head, laughing softly, and for the first time, you feel something warm and soft bloom between you.

Study dates become your thing. You meet at the library, then sometimes at his house, where the Stark mansion looms large and intimidating. But inside, Tony’s room is a mess of textbooks, blueprints, and scattered projects. He talks excitedly about tech and engineering, his hands moving as fast as his mouth. And slowly, you start to feel at ease with him.

One evening, after a particularly long study session, Tony’s hand brushes yours as you both reach for the same notebook. You freeze, your heart hammering in your chest. You glance at him, and he’s already looking at you, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. There’s no teasing, no smirk—just quiet, unspoken words between you.

And then, he leans in.

It’s gentle, almost hesitant, the kind of kiss that makes your entire world slow down. His lips are warm against yours, soft and sweet, and it’s over before you can even process it. When he pulls back, Tony’s eyes search yours, waiting for your reaction. You smile shyly, and his grin returns, wider than ever.

“Study break,” he whispers, before kissing you again.

After that, everything changes.

You spend more time with Tony, not just studying but talking—about your dreams, your fears, your lives outside of school. He opens up to you in ways you didn’t expect. Beneath the charm and bravado, there’s a boy who’s constantly under pressure, trying to live up to the Stark legacy while carving out his own path. You see his vulnerabilities, the cracks in his confident façade, and it makes you fall for him even more.

One evening, you’re sprawled on the floor of his room, surrounded by notebooks and textbooks, when Tony suddenly leans over and rests his head on your lap. You freeze, your heart doing that weird flip-flop thing again. He looks up at you, his brown eyes soft, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever really seen me. Like, really seen me.”

Your fingers hesitantly brush through his hair, and he closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. It’s moments like this—quiet, intimate—that make you realize how deeply you care for him. You never expected to fall for Tony Stark, of all people, but now you can’t imagine your life without him.

Weeks turn into months, and your relationship deepens. There are more stolen kisses between classes, more late-night study sessions that end with you falling asleep on Tony’s shoulder. He walks you to your locker every morning, his arm casually draped over your shoulders, and everyone at school knows you’re his girl.

But it’s not just the romantic moments that matter—it’s the little things. The way Tony makes sure you have your favorite snacks during study dates, how he’ll randomly text you at 2 AM with some random fact about the universe, or how he insists on carrying your books even when you tell him you can manage just fine.

One rainy afternoon, you’re sitting together in the library, your fingers intertwined under the table. Tony’s explaining something about quantum physics, his voice low and soothing, when he suddenly stops, looking at you with that soft, unguarded expression you’ve come to love.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he blurts out, his voice quiet but firm.

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You squeeze his hand, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, Tony.”

He grins, wide and brilliant, and for once, there’s no cocky retort, no snarky comment. Just the two of you, lost in each other, surrounded by textbooks and the quiet hum of the library.

It’s in these moments, wrapped in soft kisses and whispered words, that you realize Tony Stark isn’t just the arrogant genius everyone else sees. He’s yours—the boy who fell in love with you over study dates and late-night conversations, the boy who makes your heart race with every kiss.

And somehow, against all odds, you know he always will be.

The school hallways are buzzing with the usual morning chaos—people rushing to their lockers, friends calling out to each other, and the faint chatter of gossip floating through the air. You’re standing by your locker, waiting for Tony like you do every day. It’s become part of your routine. He’s always a few minutes late because he stops to mess with one of his gadgets or gets caught up in a conversation with a teacher.

But right on cue, you hear his voice echo through the corridor before you see him.

“Morning, gorgeous!” Tony’s familiar grin spreads across his face as he approaches, slinging his arm around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His lips brush your temple, soft but enough to send a little flutter through your chest.

“Late again, Stark,” you tease, closing your locker and nudging him playfully.

He rolls his eyes, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I was testing something in the lab. You can’t rush genius.”

You laugh, shaking your head as the two of you fall into step with each other. It’s a typical morning. Just you and Tony, strolling through the halls like you own the place—except neither of you care about that. It’s just about being together, hand in hand, oblivious to the world around you.

But then, you notice her.

A new face, standing by the school entrance, hair perfectly styled, her gaze following Tony like a hawk. You don’t recognize her, but she’s clearly new, and it’s obvious by the way she’s staring that she’s already heard about Tony Stark. Who hasn’t?

As the two of you pass by, she does a double-take, her eyes lingering on Tony in a way that makes your stomach tighten. You’ve never been the jealous type, but something about the way she looks at him makes your chest ache. It’s not just a passing glance—it’s an intention.

Tony doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy rambling on about his latest project. You try to shake off the feeling, but it sticks with you all morning.

By lunch, you’ve forgotten all about the new girl. You and Tony are sitting at your usual spot, surrounded by your friends. He’s telling some ridiculous story about how he almost set off the school’s fire alarm during chemistry class, and everyone is laughing, including you. Tony’s arm is draped lazily over the back of your chair, his knee brushing against yours under the table—a constant reminder of how close you are.

But then, she walks into the cafeteria.

Her name, you’ve learned, is Olivia. She’s the kind of girl who commands attention without even trying—perfect posture, bright smile, every strand of her hair exactly where it should be. And she walks in like she owns the place, her eyes scanning the room until they land on Tony. Again.

Your stomach twists as you watch her make her way across the cafeteria, straight toward your table.

“Oh no,” one of your friends mutters under their breath. “She’s coming over here.”

Tony, completely oblivious to the tension, is still talking. “So, then the whole beaker just—”

“Hi, Tony,” Olivia interrupts, her voice sugary sweet. She stands directly in front of him, smiling brightly as if she’s known him forever. You feel his arm tense slightly behind you, but he doesn’t immediately move it.

“Hey…?” Tony trails off, looking at her with a confused tilt of his head.

“I’m Olivia. I just transferred here,” she explains, her gaze flicking briefly to you before settling back on Tony. “I heard you’re kind of the genius around here. I thought maybe you could show me around sometime? Help me get the lay of the land.”

The cafeteria feels like it’s holding its breath, everyone at your table now staring at the interaction with thinly veiled interest. You sit a little straighter, trying to stay calm, but you can’t ignore the way Olivia completely ignores your presence, like you’re invisible, like you’re not literally sitting in Tony’s arms.

Tony, to his credit, doesn’t miss a beat. His arm tightens around your shoulder, pulling you a little closer as he offers her a polite smile. “That’s nice of you to ask, Olivia, but I’m kind of booked with…” He glances at you, his eyes softening, “…well, everything.” He doesn’t need to say more. The message is clear.

But Olivia isn’t easily deterred. She leans on the table, her voice dropping into a flirtatious tone that makes your blood simmer. “Oh, come on. You can’t be that busy. I’m sure we could make time—”

“He is that busy,” you cut in, your voice sharper than you intended. The entire table goes quiet, and Tony’s eyes flick to you, wide with surprise but also admiration. You never get possessive. This is new for both of you.

Olivia straightens up, finally acknowledging you with a raised eyebrow. “Right. You’re his girlfriend.” She says it like it’s something temporary, something that could change at any second. Her eyes flick between you and Tony, as if she’s sizing you up, figuring out if you’re competition.

Before you can respond, Tony does. He leans forward, his arm still securely around you, his voice low and steady. “Yeah, she’s my girlfriend. And trust me, Olivia, I don’t need to make time for anything else.”

The look Olivia gives you is brief but sharp. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Well, if you ever change your mind…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, just winks at Tony before walking away, leaving the tension behind her like a storm cloud.

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, trying to shrug off the unease that her presence left behind. Your friends are already muttering about her under their breath, but you stay silent, unsure of how to feel.

“Hey,” Tony says softly, shifting in his seat to face you more fully. His hand moves from your shoulder to cup your face gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You know I’m crazy about you, right?”

You nod, though the knot in your chest still feels tight. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean it,” he says, his thumb brushing your cheek in that soft way that makes your heart skip. “There’s no one else I want, okay? Just you.”

You smile despite yourself, leaning into his touch. The rest of the world fades away, and for a moment, it’s just you and him again, like always. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, right there in the middle of the cafeteria, in front of everyone, like he’s making sure everyone knows exactly where he stands.

Including Olivia.

For the rest of the day, Olivia doesn’t bother you again. But you can still feel her eyes on you from across the room, watching, waiting. And though Tony spends every spare second reassuring you with kisses and soft words, there’s a part of you that can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t over.

You trust Tony. But Olivia? You’re not so sure.

The afternoon sun filters through the large windows of Tony’s room, casting a warm golden glow across the scattered textbooks and notebooks. You’re supposed to be studying for tomorrow’s physics test, but it’s hard to focus when Tony’s lips are pressed against yours, his hands gently resting on your waist.

You’re sitting on his bed, your books long forgotten as he leans in closer, his kiss becoming slower, more intense. The air between you feels electric, and everything else fades into the background. Tony’s kisses always start soft, teasing, but they quickly grow deeper, more consuming, until it’s like nothing else exists.

But then—ding.

A notification from Tony’s phone interrupts the moment, but neither of you react. His lips still move against yours, more urgent now, like he’s trying to drown out the noise with you.

Ding.

Another one. You feel Tony stiffen slightly, but his hands stay where they are, pulling you closer, his kiss deepening. It’s like he’s deliberately ignoring it, and you try to focus back on him, but the third chime pulls you out of the moment entirely.

Ding.

You pull back, breathless, your heart racing from both the kiss and the annoyance bubbling up inside of you. “Tony,” you murmur, your hands gently resting on his chest as you push him back just enough to meet his eyes.

He looks at you, his brows furrowing slightly as if he doesn’t understand why you’ve stopped. “What?” he asks, his voice low, rough from the heat of the moment.

“Your phone,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm but feeling a twinge of frustration. “Who’s texting you so much?”

Tony groans, glancing over at his phone on the nightstand as if it’s the last thing he wants to deal with right now. “Probably just Happy, or something about my dad’s company…” He starts to lean in again, his lips brushing your neck, but you’re not convinced.

It’s not like Tony to ignore his phone for this long. You push him back a little more, your voice firmer now. “Tony. Check it.”

With a sigh, Tony finally reaches over and grabs his phone, unlocking it with one hand while the other stays on your waist, like he’s unwilling to let go of you completely. But as soon as his screen lights up, his face changes. His eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches.

“What the hell?” he mutters under his breath.

Your heart skips a beat, that uncomfortable knot of worry tightening in your chest. “What is it?”

Tony doesn’t respond right away, his thumb scrolling through what seems like a string of messages. You lean closer, trying to see the screen, but before you can, he pulls it away from your view.

“Tony,” you press, your voice quieter now, a mix of confusion and concern lacing your tone. “Who’s texting you?”

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s… Olivia.”

You blink, not quite believing what you’re hearing. “Olivia?” You remember the way she’d practically thrown herself at him in the cafeteria earlier today, completely ignoring your presence. “How does Olivia have your number?”

Tony winces, looking genuinely confused. “I have no idea. I didn’t give it to her. I swear.”

But that’s not the worst of it. He swipes to open the messages, and your eyes flick to the screen. There’s a string of texts, one after another:

Hey, Tony :) I heard you’re amazing at physics, could really use some help tonight. Studying alone gets so boring… Maybe we can work something out ;)

You feel your face heat with anger as Tony keeps scrolling. There are pictures too—selfies of her in a tight top, smiling at the camera with her lips slightly parted, each one more suggestive than the last. She’s not even being subtle.

Tony’s face hardens as he scrolls through the texts, clearly just as annoyed as you are. “This is insane. I never—”

You cut him off, trying to keep your voice calm but unable to hide the anger bubbling up inside. “She’s acting like a complete pick-me. And she knows you have a girlfriend, Tony. She knows.”

Tony’s eyes snap up to meet yours, and his expression softens immediately, his hand reaching for yours. “Hey, I didn’t ask for this. I don’t know how she even got my number. But you have to know this is ridiculous. I don’t care about her. I don’t even like her.” He squeezes your hand, his voice earnest. “It’s you. Only you.”

You bite your lip, trying to push down the wave of frustration building up inside of you. The rational part of you knows he’s telling the truth, but that doesn’t stop the sting of seeing those messages, the blatant way she’s throwing herself at him, completely disregarding you.

“Then block her,” you say, your voice quieter now but firm. “Right now.”

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He goes back to the message thread, and with a few taps, Olivia’s number is blocked. He throws the phone back onto the nightstand with a look of disgust before turning his full attention back to you. His hands gently cup your face, and the warmth in his eyes melts away some of the tension in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. “I didn’t mean for that to ruin everything.”

You sigh, leaning into his touch, your heart still racing but for a different reason now. “It’s not your fault. I just… I don’t get why she’s doing this.”

“She’s not worth even thinking about,” Tony says, his voice firm. “I don’t care about her, okay? She’s just trying to cause drama, and I’m not playing into it. I’m with you. No one else.”

You nod, feeling the weight of his words sink in, grounding you. His thumbs trace gentle patterns on your cheeks, and he tilts his head slightly, his eyes soft and filled with nothing but affection.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling you back into his arms, his lips finding yours again. This time, the kiss feels different—deeper, more tender, like he’s trying to prove something. Every movement of his lips against yours is filled with reassurance, as if he’s reminding you, with each soft touch, that you’re the only one who matters.

And even though Olivia’s messages still linger in the back of your mind, they start to fade away as Tony’s kiss consumes you again, drawing you back into the warmth and comfort of being with him. Here, in his arms, it’s clear that no one else stands a chance.

The library is quiet, as always, the only sound the occasional rustle of papers and the soft hum of a distant conversation. You’re smiling to yourself as you push open the door, balancing a snack in one hand and a drink in the other, a small treat for you and Tony to get through the rest of your study session.

Tony had seemed a little drained when you left, leaning over the pile of notes and textbooks, muttering about how the periodic table was starting to look like some kind of puzzle he couldn’t crack. You thought some fresh air and snacks would do you both some good.

But as you step into the room, the smile slips from your face.

Sitting in your seat, right next to Tony, is Olivia. Her legs are crossed, her arm casually draped across the back of your chair as she leans toward him, her voice low and flirty. Her head is tilted slightly, that same smirk on her lips that she wore in the cafeteria. Tony looks uncomfortable, his body stiff and tense as he stares down at the open textbook, his eyes flicking up at her every now and then, clearly trying to keep the interaction as brief as possible.

“Come on, Tony,” Olivia’s voice drips with sweetness, but there’s a sharpness beneath it that makes your stomach twist. “You can’t be serious. Why are you wasting your time on her?”

She says the last word like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, and that’s when something inside you snaps.

You walk over, as calmly as you can manage, but your heart is racing, and your grip on the snack bag tightens. Tony catches sight of you first, relief flashing across his face as he sits up a little straighter.

“Hey,” Tony says quickly, his voice clearly trying to break the tension. He immediately reaches out for you, as if to remind both you and Olivia where his loyalty lies. “You’re back.”

Olivia doesn’t even look your way, her eyes still locked on Tony. It’s like she doesn’t care, like she’s deliberately ignoring your existence even though you’re standing right there.

You take a deep breath, setting the snacks down on the table in front of you. “Olivia,” you say, keeping your voice calm but firm, “you’re in my seat.”

She finally turns to look at you, her expression unreadable at first, but then a slow, condescending smile spreads across her face. She leans back in the chair, like she’s not planning on moving any time soon. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

You clench your jaw, your hands tightening into fists by your side. “I’m pretty sure you did.”

Tony looks between the two of you, clearly ready to step in, but you put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. This is your fight now.

Olivia’s smile widens, and she shrugs, her voice filled with fake innocence. “I was just talking to Tony. You know, trying to understand why someone like him would waste time with… well, someone like you.”

Your blood boils at her words, but you keep your face as composed as possible. This isn’t the time to let anger get the better of you.

“Olivia,” you start, stepping closer so she’s forced to look up at you from your seat, “we both know what you’re doing here. And I’m telling you now, it’s not going to work.”

Olivia rolls her eyes, completely unfazed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You take another step, your eyes narrowing. “I mean, Tony’s my boyfriend. He’s made that clear to everyone—including you. So, whatever little game you’re playing, you can stop, because it’s not going to change anything.”

For a second, you see something flicker in Olivia’s eyes—maybe surprise, or annoyance—but she quickly masks it with another smile. “It’s cute that you think that, but let’s be real. Do you actually believe that Tony’s going to stick around with you? He deserves someone who can keep up with him. Someone who doesn’t… bore him.”

The words sting, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you take a deep breath and glance at Tony, who’s now glaring at Olivia, his jaw tight. He looks like he’s about two seconds away from saying something, but you speak before he can.

“You really think I’m boring him?” you ask, your voice steady despite the fire burning in your chest. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like he can’t get enough of me.”

Tony finally speaks up, his voice sharp. “She’s right.” He looks at Olivia, his expression darkening. “I’ve told you already, I’m not interested. I’m with her, and that’s not going to change. So, maybe you should find someone else to flirt with, because I’m done with this.”

Olivia blinks, clearly caught off guard by Tony’s bluntness, but she recovers quickly, standing up and smoothing her skirt as if she’s not at all affected. “Fine,” she says, her voice still dripping with venom. “But when he gets bored of playing house with you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She brushes past you, her shoulder bumping yours slightly as she leaves, but you don’t move. You stand tall, watching her walk away with her head held high, even though you know she didn’t win this time.

Once she’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your shoulders sagging a little. Tony immediately pulls you into his arms, his face softening as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, though you can hear the edge of frustration still lingering.

You nod, leaning into him, the warmth of his arms grounding you. “Yeah. I just… I can’t believe her. She’s so persistent.”

Tony sighs, kissing the top of your head. “She’s not going to stop, but she can try all she wants. It’s not going to make a difference.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

He chuckles softly, brushing his lips against yours. “Like I said, there’s no one else. She can throw herself at me all day, and it won’t matter, because all I care about is you.”

The knot in your chest loosens completely, and you lean in for a soft kiss, your hands resting on his shoulders. The library is still quiet, but the tension from before has vanished. Now, it’s just you and Tony again, like it always should be.

As the kiss breaks, he gives you that familiar smirk, the one that makes your heart flutter every time. “Now, where’s that snack you promised?”

You laugh, handing him the bag of treats. “Only if you promise not to let anyone else take my seat again.”

He grins, pulling you closer. “Never again. That seat—and everything else—is yours.”

It’s late afternoon, and the sky is painted in soft hues of orange and pink, casting a golden glow over everything as you and Tony walk through the park. The crisp autumn air makes it perfect for a cozy date, and Tony’s hand is warm in yours as you stroll side by side, talking and laughing about everything and nothing at the same time.

You’ve both ditched the textbooks for the day, deciding that spending time together was more important than stressing over schoolwork. Tony had suggested the park, and now, you’re both content walking the leaf-covered paths, taking in the peaceful quiet of the world around you.

The last few days had been tense, with Olivia constantly trying to get between you two, but today feels different. Everything feels lighter, like you can finally breathe again. And as if on cue, the universe gives you the proof.

You glance up as you pass by the small café near the park and spot Olivia sitting outside at one of the tables. But she’s not alone. Across from her sits Jason, one of the guys from the football team. He’s grinning at something she’s said, and Olivia is laughing, twirling her hair around her finger like she always does when she’s flirting.

You nudge Tony gently, nodding toward the scene. “Look,” you whisper with a hint of amusement in your voice.

Tony follows your gaze, and when he sees Olivia, he smirks, shaking his head. “Looks like she’s finally found someone else to bug.”

You smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. It’s strange to think that the girl who had caused you so much frustration just days ago is now wrapped up in her own world with someone else. And honestly? You’re just glad it’s over. Olivia’s attention has shifted, and for the first time in days, you feel completely at ease.

“Well,” you say with a small smile, “at least now we don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Tony chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you continue walking. “Good riddance. Now I can focus on what’s important.” He pulls you a little closer, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“What’s that?” you tease, glancing up at him.

He grins down at you, his brown eyes warm and filled with affection. “You, obviously.”

The rest of the date is simple and perfect. After the park, you and Tony grab ice cream from a small stand by the water, sitting on a bench and sharing bites of each other’s cones. The sun starts to dip lower, casting long shadows, but neither of you are in any rush to leave.

Tony keeps cracking jokes, making you laugh until your stomach hurts, and in between the laughter are soft moments—his fingers brushing against yours, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your temple, your cheek, and eventually, your lips. It’s a perfect day, one that feels easy and light, like everything is exactly where it should be.

As the sky turns darker, you both make your way back to Tony’s place. It’s quiet when you arrive, his parents out for the evening, so the house feels like it belongs to just the two of you. Tony leads you upstairs to his room, and the moment the door closes behind you, it’s like a blanket of warmth and comfort settles over everything.

You sit down on his bed, kicking off your shoes and leaning back against the pillows. Tony follows, lying beside you, his head propped up on one arm as he looks at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The light from the lamp on his bedside table casts a gentle glow, and in that moment, it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist—just you and him, wrapped up in the quiet of the room.

“Today was nice,” you murmur, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. “I missed this. Just us.”

Tony hums in agreement, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me too. No distractions, no Olivia… just you and me. That’s how I like it.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. It’s slow and tender, and every movement feels like a quiet promise. His hand rests on your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin as he deepens the kiss, but it stays gentle, soft—like he’s savoring the moment. There’s no rush, no urgency, just the two of you wrapped in the comfort of each other.

You pull back slightly, resting your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. His fingers thread through your hair, and he smiles softly, the kind of smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I love you,” he whispers, the words filling the space between you like a warm, quiet confession.

Your heart swells at his words, and you reach up, gently cupping his face in your hands as you smile back at him. “I love you, too.”

Tony grins, leaning in to steal another kiss, his lips soft and warm against yours. You melt into him, feeling the weight of the world slip away, leaving just the two of you in this moment of pure, quiet love.

When the kiss breaks, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you as you settle into his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest is enough to lull you into a state of peaceful contentment.

“Stay over?” he murmurs, his fingers trailing lightly down your arm.

You smile against him, your eyes closing as you nod. “Of course.”

And just like that, the world outside disappears. It’s just you and Tony, the soft glow of the lamp, and the quiet hum of love that fills the room. You fall asleep wrapped in his arms, knowing that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

soft Tony my love <3 If you liked the story don't forget to leave a like, a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more!

[nose-rice]

Guys I NEED to rant about my thoughts on Nuru because i love her <3 ramblings ahead

Like I feel like in almost every fic i read, she's just like, a side character that's there to make whitty remarks to Hugo and be the levelheaded one. If she has an insecurity or problem it's usually pretty surface level and solved quickly, or only mentioned once or twice. I think there are SO many aspects of her character that are so cool.

Okay first, I think we sometimes forget that she's a nerd just like the rest of the gang. Yes, on the outside she's definetly the most 'normal' one, but I think we should concider the fact that she's the only girl in the group, and she's literal royalty. She was raised with a completely different set of standards than the other three. I don’t think I've really ever seen anyone cover that. I feel like she would get called "mature for her age" when she's only 15/16, and almost always gets critisism when she talks back with her own ideas (like her concerns about the meteor shows for example). I feel like out on her journey, she would finally get the freedom to just be herself, and be a kid and be able to rant on about her intrests with the rest of the group. It could be a struggle at first, but it would be awesome to see her getting more comfortable with the group the longer they spend together! Nerds encouraging nerdy rants lol

Since she is a kingdom figurehead, you could also argue that she always has a lot on her hands (especially since she's very proactive when it comes to science and solving problems). This could bring up a need to be productive, or always feeling like she needs to make the right decision, even for the littlest things.

I also feel like a lot of the time she's potrayed as the "right" one, who is 100% right when it comes to stuff like arguing with Hugo. Since they're opposites when it comes to class, they often are compared through that lense. I think it's cool just having Nuru tell Hugo off for judging a book by its cover, but I feel like they have a lot more in common than they realize. I think it would be interesting to see Nuru judging a book by its cover too. Maybe not to the degree that Hugo does, but I feel like calling out both their judging would not only call out character flaws, but it also enforces that even though they hate eachother and would never want to be like the other, they have a lot of the same flaws.

Also, being sheltered in a palace her whole life, I think she might think kind of black and white sometimes, and while she knows when people are just being mean as an act, she might struggle when it comes to people like reformed criminals.

Maybe she's able to be meaner to Hugo because she justifies it by telling herself he's criminal, and therefore bad, possibly glossing over the reasons he might be like that (maybe it crosses her mind, but she tells herself it's not a good enough reason, because stealing is still stealing, and he literally steals EVERYTHING. Even little trinkets and stuff he definitely doesn't need!). When they find out about Varian's criminal history, maybe she reexamines her views on morality and how she used to see people, because by her standards, Varian is a 'bad guy' who's caused harm to SO many people, but he's also the kind, caring, helpful friend that she's been traveling with who would never willingly hurt anyone.

Moving on to Amber x Nuru, I honestly never find myself liking the ship because Amber isn't developed enough which is fine. I don't think every character has to be a magnificent work of art. Side characters are side characters, but their romance is usually written like: "wow that girl is cute! I have a crush now!" Which is cool, but then that's about as far as it gets, then timeskip! Or offscreen they're a couple now. I know it's a side couple so it won't have as much devlopment as something like Varigo, but I never really see their dynamic play out in different situations. Like I don't know how to explain it, but it feels like they solely exist to be a couple? Amber sometimes just feels like an extention of Nuru, and their relationship feels surface level a lot of the time.

I feel like too often she's just watered down to the nice, smart, grounded friend, and I don't know I just think there’s so much more to explore with her. She’s not just some side character. She's literally part of the main cast! Even in fanart I feel like she doesn't really get a lot of stuff besides funny art and just like, pictures meant to look pretty. Unlike something you get a lot with characters like Varian or Hugo.

And honestly I get it. Some characters you just don't take an intrest in. I know I find Varian, Hugo, and Nuru more relatable than I find Yong, but I feel like part of that is developing their characters rather than just seeing them on a surface level. Ofc there are exceptions and there are some stories that dive deeper into Nuru's character out there! I just happen to see this A LOT.

Wow i said "surface level" a lot didn't I 😭😭

Anyway thank you for reading my rant i wanna know what you guys think!!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Catching up! So today we’re mostly having replies related to all the stuff we posted recently.

Starting with the most important question.

Anonymous asked:

Wait, Idia got called a brocon? When?

He did! Grim called him a brocon in 5-13 right after we saw Ortho for the first time :3 (timestamp on 5:42 just in case)

Anonymous asked:

How does that smoke beer donut taste?

(this is about this drawing)

Very smoky! And like something Gidel isn’t supposed to eat…

Anonymous asked:

I wanna see some of your traditional art

Actually, Anon, you’re looking at it…

The majority of things that we post daily was originally drawn traditionally, and then coloured digitally. I really want to do more art that is 100% traditional, but never get a chance to for a bunch of reasons :(

Anonymous asked:

I love your analysis holy cow! see its because of Book 5 that i cant stop seeing Vil and Rook as mom and dad. i love this ship mind you, (they are my comfort ship and it gives me life whenever you draw them you beautiful soul) but even if some didnt see them as a romantic couple--in my opinion they still have that VIBE you know? Like whenever they're there you just cant help but feel like BRO THEY WOULD BEAT UP YOUR BULLIES AND THEN GROUND YOU AND SEND YOU TO YOUR ROOM FOR FIGHTING IN THE FIRST PLACE LOL is it just a me feeling?

(this is related to this post)

Thank you for your kind words, Anon! I am very happy you enjoyed the analysis and that you like my RookVil art <3

Yeah, I think these two being very parental is pretty obvious and pretty intentional! All jokes aside, Pomefiore trio really feels like it was written in a way that they would read as a family. We don’t usually like this trope because characters playing house could get pretty boring, and a lot of family-related tropes don’t resonate with us at all. So I am surprised to this day that we love Pomefiore’s vibes so much. I’m guessing that it’s because of how unusual of a family they are, how Epel actually fights with Vil a lot, and how he grows from being a little brat to being a little brat that is eager to grow and excited to show his senpais his new cool magic tricks, while they tease him but still are very proud and excited for him. Like, they’re strict and would smack him (well, Vil would) but they also want him to grow. Woah, that sounds way too wholesome ew lol

Anyways! Even if we exclude Epel, and this is another thing I’ve talked about a lot, I genuinely feel like Rook and Vil were intentionally written as a couple that has been together for quite some time, at least coding-wise. There are just too many tropes and situations that they have that are usually used for couples… Alright I’ll stop myself or I’ll rant about them again even though I just did a couple of weeks ago.

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

I just love baby Vil so much, makes me wonder what happened

(this is about this drawing)

Adults with shitty opinions + kids that can’t separate reality from fiction happened… truly, two of the worst things that could happen to a possible friendship between actors.

A couple of asks about this drawing:

Anonymous asked:

Oh oh! I saw! Che'nya art! We (smiley kitty fans) are starving! Thank you for the food! It is delicious! May we have another plate, please?

Poor smiley kitty fans! :( I am so sorry you’re starving! Please enjoy your food.

Unfortunately I don’t have any more smiley catfood for you…….. yet.

Anonymous asked:

*see Chenya *

*starts biting at the bars of my containment*

Better question for him..... What that tongue do??? 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

What that tongue doesn’t do, Anon? Wink

Anonymous asked:

Question. How much of Riddle's body do you think Che'nya would lick to clean him?

In theory, he’d probably get bored pretty quickly, but I kind of want him to just keep licking… Riddle thought it would be over 15 minutes ago, but Che’nya’s still licking… The moment he would be done with his face, ears and head (cat saliva in Riddle’s hair…), Riddle would realise that Che’nya is determined to lick him all over. Time to call Trey…

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

Riddle gets licked my Chenya often in my lil delulu ass world

Sometimes Che’nya randomly appears, licks his cheek and disappears again.

Anonymous asked:

Bro I gotta know, what do the tweel's dick(s) look like on their merform? I was scrolling on ur bluesky and saw this one with jade and idia and something between idia's legs and I was like "is that his dick?" If so DAYUM! May that bussy rest in peace

Love your art and speedpaints btw💗

Thank you for enjoying my art and especially my speedpaints! I am very happy to hear that <3

Hehe I’m glad you liked that one! I had a lot of fun with that piece.

I feel like I draw merpeen differently every single time lol but I love the design we came up with for that Jade/Idia drawing, and in fact I do have a post in which I talk about how it probably works! There aren’t any pictures there, but there are some interesting thoughts…

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Just Like This

Summary: Working a second job in a bar to help pay for Sammy’s education, Dean finds a kindred spirit in bar manager Y/N. When a drunk Douchebag gets too handsy with her, Dean quickly jumps to her defence but faces harsh consequences.

Pairing: Bartender!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Rating: Teen

Bingo Square: Getting Fired for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: sexual assault (groping), fluff, angst, fighting, minor violence, Chuck is a complete and utter asshole in this, getting fired, quitting in solidarity, first kiss, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Okay, it feels like an age since I’ve written anything that’s just pure floof. I hope you enjoy this fluffy, protective, besotted Dean fic. Please be kind. I’ve had my angst hat on for a long time, and though this was really refreshing, it’s also a little daunting!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

It wasn’t the best job in the world, but as part-time work went, Dean knew it could be a hell of a lot worse than this. He worked with his dad in the garage during the day and worked four nights a week and two shifts at the weekend in Shurley’s Sports Bar. His wages and tips went to his dad to help pay for Sammy’s education. Sure, the kid had a full ride to Stanford; however, he still needed to pay for accommodation after freshman year and the thousands of books he needed for his coursework. And at least this way, his dad didn’t put himself in an early grave by working all the hours God gave him. Lord knows he’d done enough of that when they were kids.

Shurley’s was a decent bar. It had a prime location between the University of Kansas campus and downtown, so it always has a steady stream of customers. It quietened during the summer when the students went home or on their travels, but the locals still made trade steady enough. The owner, Chuck, was a bit of a dick, but he barely showed his face around the place, and the other staff were decent, making it a great place to work.

“Hey, Dean,” Y/N said as she came out of the back office. Y/N was the bar manager and a great girl. They had a lot in common; both lost their mothers when they were young and looked after their younger siblings while their fathers worked three jobs to try and make ends meet. Y/N’d had to drop out of college when her father took unexpectedly sick, having to take care of him and her little sister. Now that her father had passed and her sister had a full ride to another prestigious college, Harvard, Y/N lived in the tiny apartment above the bakery where she worked four days a week and in the bar four nights a week and every Saturday night. The rest of the time, she studied part-time to finish her college education and sent every spare cent she had to her sister in Boston.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled at her. She was pretty, too, and Dean wasn’t afraid to admit that he had a massive crush on her. Not that anything would ever happen because she was her, and he was… well, he wasn’t good enough for a girl like that. “How are ya, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, Dean. How are you? Oh! Did you manage to get Sam’s apartment sorted?” Y/N asked, and he smiled that she’d remember such a thing.

“Yeah, it’s all good now. We managed to get the rest of the deposit together,” Dean said. “Thanks for the extra shifts, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Y/N smiled. “I still can’t believe landlords can actually do that,” Y/N shook her head as she headed behind the bar and started filling the refrigerators with bottles of beer and wine to prepare for the busy Friday night shift.

“Yeah, us either. But it’s done, and he has somewhere to live,” Dean said as he put the last menus and condiment buckets on the tables. “What needs to be done next, boss?” he asked, smirking when Y/N chuckled. She hated being called that, but he seemed to be the only one she didn’t scold for it.

“I could use a hand changing over the barrels if you’ve got time?” she said, breaking up the cardboard that the bottles had been housed in.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dean headed into the storeroom and started shifting the beer barrels behind the bar as Y/N continued putting bottles in the fridges and replacing the almost empty spirit bottles with full ones to accommodate the busiest night of the year: Friday night football and Freshers Week.

The bar was packed with customers, the warm, sunny weather drawing even more of them in than usual, and of course, Chuck had decided tonight was a good night to show face and ‘help’, putting the staff on edge. Dean had gone with the head down and get on with it attitude, glad it was three deep at the bar so he had an excuse not to have to entertain Chuck for very long.

Y/N had been running around after Chuck all night, finding this paperwork and that invoice and the employee payroll for the past six weeks. Eventually, when he couldn’t possibly ask for anything more, she’d escaped the office, having brazenly told her boss that she was needed front of house to help serve customers.

“I swear,” she’d said as she tied her little black server’s apron around her waist, “It’s like he fucking knew tonight would be the busiest night but still came to check months old paperwork! God, that man is insufferable!”

It wasn’t often that Y/N showed her annoyance, and Dean couldn’t help but think it was cute. Though, admittedly, that could be his crush talking, her furrowed brow and tiny pout were adorable.

“What can I do to help?” he asked as she took her place behind the bar.

“I should be asking you that question!” she giggled. “What do you need me to do?”

“We could do with someone collecting and cleaning the empty glasses, if you wouldn’t mind?” he responded, smiling as she picked up a basket, cleaning spray, and a cloth before he’d finished his sentence.

“You got it,” she winked and headed onto the floor to clear and wipe the tables down. And that, Dean thought, is what makes a good boss. Someone who works with the team to achieve the same goal. Someone who isn’t afraid of stepping in to help by doing the most mundane tasks that are below their pay grade.

Y/N was a breath of fresh air for him in so many ways. She was bubbly and caring, and no matter what was thrown her way, she responded with an air of calmness and dignity that he admired.

“Hey, man. What can I get ya?” Dean asked the next patron, finally taking his eyes off the girl slowly taking over his every thought.

“Be careful,” Dean said as Y/N headed back onto the floor to clear more glasses and tables. “It’s getting rowdy out there. You know what those college boys can be like.”

“Thanks, Dean,” she smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He knew she would be. He’d seen her handling every kind of drunk customer. Still, he’d watch her closely because he was more worried than usual. The crowd tonight seemed even more enthused thanks to the local sports team playing. It still surprised him how often the female staff got touched inappropriately and had the most vulgar things said to them by too drunk and far too confident men. More than once Dean had had to step in and stop something from going too far, and he’d do it as many times as he needed to for Y/N or any of the other female staff.

Y/N managed to get around most of the bar unscathed, but there was a particularly boisterous table of men who only frequented the bar when the Chiefs played. Dean had been watching them all night because they seemed to have forgotten their age and tried to out-drink their much younger counterparts. They’d already run their mouths off to the bar staff, and now one of them in particular had their beady eye on Y/N as she moved from table to table, collecting empty glasses and bottles.

Swapping her tray out for an empty one, Y/N made her way over to their table, and the second she got close enough, the balding guy with the beady eye was quick to rear his hand back and smack her ass. Dean’s hackles rose, and he was on high alert as he watched her give the douchebag a piece of her mind. But he didn’t stop. Douchebag wrapped his arms around her waist and tried pulling her onto his lap. All the while, his douchebag little friends laughed and cheered him on like he’d won a fucking prize.

Dean saw red as he ran around the bar and strode purposely over to the group of middle-aged men amid a mid-life crisis and pulled Y/N from his hold, dragging her behind him to protect her.

“The lady told you to leave her alone. I suggest you do that,” Dean fumed, only getting angrier at Douchebag’s smirk.

“Oh, ladies and gentlemen, we have a jealous boyfriend trying to protect his girl! You know, if she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let her out the house wearing something so…” he paused as he leered up and down Y/N’s body, “revealing.”

“Listen, asshole, you don’t want to piss me off right now. Why don’t you and your buddies call it a night and go home? You’ve clearly had too much to drink, and we don’t take kindly to people assaulting our staff here,” Dean’s jaw was clenched, but he’d somehow managed to keep his voice steady.

“Sorry, man,” Douchebag smirked as he stood. “Just can’t help myself when I see a pretty girl showing off half her body like a Goddamn little tease. She’s asking for it, really.”

That was the last straw, and as Douchebag made one final (and unfortunately successful) attempt to get his hands on Y/N, Dean pulled his fist back and punched him square on the nose. The resounding crack as Dean broke the guy’s nose was satisfying, as were the synchronised grimacing ‘oohs’ that the audience this little corner of the bar had attracted.

“You broke my nose, asshole!” Douchebag spluttered. “I’m reporting you for assault!”

“You do that,” Y/N said, “and I’ll have you arrested, too. This whole bar and the CCTV saw you grope me twice and clearly saw me trying to get you off me! What he did,” she pointed at Dean, “was save me from being sexually assaulted!”

“Come on, man,” one of Douchebag’s friends said, patting him on the back. “Let’s get you to the hospital. It’s not worth it.”

“Damn straight it’s not!” Dean yelled. “Any way you spin this, he doesn’t win, so get the hell out and don’t come back!”

Tail between their legs, Douchebag and his friends left the bar. The second the door shut behind them, Dean was next to Y/N, checking her for injuries.

“I’m fine, Dean,” she insisted, but her eyes told a different story. The encounter had shaken her up, and Dean wanted to fix it, needed to fix it.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not. You’re–” Dean began but was interrupted by the shrill voice of Chuck.

“Winchester, my office, now! You too, Y/N.”

Seeing Y/N sitting beside him on the other side of the desk was strange. This was where she did all the paperwork, payroll, ordering, and invoicing, so to see Chuck on her chair was disconcerting. And not good.

“I don’t know what was going on out there–” Chuck began, and Dean scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re bar manager was sexually assaulted by a customer. That’s what happened!” Dean sat forward on his chair, raising his voice. He only calmed when Y/N placed her hand on his forearm.

Chuck pursed his lips at his outburst and continued speaking as if Dean hadn’t interrupted.

“I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, sexual assault or not,” Chuck looked pointedly at Y/N before he continued. “It’s no excuse for my staff to behave violently.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Dean fumed. “That… scumbag… touched her ass and her breasts and tried to force her into his lap! You see those bruises, right?” he asked as he pointed to the dark purple fingerprint marks on her arms.

“Inappropriate comments, slurs, even touching, is to be expected when you work in a bar–” Chuck was interrupted again, this time by Y/N.

“There are no touching policies in every strip club in the country for a reason, Chuck! You cannot expect it to be any different in a fratboy sports bar! No one should go to work expecting that being sexually assaulted is okay!”

“For God’s sake, Y/N! So what a guy touched your ass and tits! You should be flattered!”

“It was sexual assault, Chuck! That guy,” Y/N pointed behind her in the general direction of the bar, “touched me without permission, and I could have him charged! You too with how you’re behaving!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic! I feel sorry for your boyfriend if this is how prudish you are!”

“Hey, that is–” Dean interjected, but Chuck kept talking.

“Dean, you’re fired. I cannot, and will not, allow a violent brute to work in my bar.”

“You can’t do that!” Y/N protested.

“Watch it, or you’ll be gone, too!” Chuck threatened, but Dean knew it was an empty one with her. He needed her too much. The bar would burn to the ground without her in charge.

“No need. I quit. Effective immediately. I cannot, and will not,” Y/N glared at Chuck as she repeated his words to him, “work in a place where I’m expected to be sexually harassed and assaulted and ignore it. I cannot, and will not, work for a man who fires a good person for helping someone in need.”

Standing, Y/N took off her apron and name tag and threw them on the desk. She unhooked the keys from her belt and pulled the cash box towards her, opening it and pulling out two brown envelopes, handing one to Dean and putting the other in her pocket. Once she’d locked the cash box, she tossed her keys down on the cheap metal desk with a satisfying clang.

“Really? You’re going to quit over him?” Chuck scoffed.

“Yes. Dean is worth a thousand shitty bar jobs like this one, and I’d choose him over any of them in a heartbeat,” Y/N said with her head held high. “I hope you know you’ve just lost your two best workers on the busiest night of the year. Come on, Dean. Let’s get out of this shithole.”

Dean didn’t protest. He stood up, smirked at Chuck because he just couldn’t help himself, and followed Y/N out of the bar and onto the street.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t need to do that. I’m a big boy, and I can look after myself,” Dean said after walking in silence for a few minutes.

“I know you can, and yes, I did. That was unfair and undeserved. Especially because it was my fault,” Y/N responded.

“Hey, don’t ever… it wasn’t your fault. Things like that are never the woman’s fault, you know that, right?” Dean couldn’t believe she’d ever think something like that would be her own doing.

“I know, but if I’d listened to you and let Marcus clear tables instead of me, none of this would’ve happened.”

“No. I won’t hear it. You didn’t ask to be groped by a balding douchebag going through a mid-life crisis, sweetheart. Don’t ever apologise for someone else’s wrongdoing,” he reassured her.

“So, what do we do now? We both kinda needed that job,” Y/N chuckled, but it held no humour.

“Well, I might know a guy who owns a wine bar downtown. A classy establishment, so the tips are better. And we’d be treated right,” Dean said, thinking of the bar Cas had tried to get him to work in for months.

“You have a buddy with a bar, and you chose to stay working in that shithole?” Y/N asked in disbelief. “Why? What would possess you to stay there? Willingly?”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Dean smirked. This wasn’t where he envisioned this conversation going–if it ever happened at all, that is–but the perfect opportunity had presented itself and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t take it. “I got to see you almost every day.”

“Come on! You did not stay there for me!” Y/N scoffed, and Dean shrugged his shoulders, his lips tugging upwards in a shy smile.

“I did, actually. Can’t think of anyone better to spend so much time with.”

“Dean Winchester,” she grinned. “Are you flirting with me?” The teasing tone in her words was one he’d never heard before, and he liked it.

“Do you want me to be flirting with you?” he’d asked, needing to hear her say it before he did something stupid because he’d misread the signals.

“Yeah… I think I do,” Y/N giggled, stepping closer to him, bumping their arms together as they stepped in sync down the sidewalk.

“Yeah?” he asked, checking again because, quite frankly, she was her and he was him.

“Yeah.”

Dean stopped walking and gently grabbed her forearm to stop her from walking ahead. Feeling brave, Dean placed his hands on her cheeks and dipped his head, slowly lowering his lips to hers. Every inch closer he got, he switched his gaze between her lips and her eyes, making sure this was what she wanted.

When there was no hesitation and nowhere else to go, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. They were as soft as they always looked, softer even, and tasted as sweet as he’d imagined they would.

Y/N pressed herself closer to him with a low hum and slid her arms up his chest, resting one hand on his pec and the other curling around his neck. Dean licked her bottom lip, encouraging her to open her mouth and let him deepen their kiss.

He failed to hold back a groan when his tongue met hers, the feeling so much better than anything his mind could’ve conjured up. Dean couldn’t remember how long he’d wanted this, and now that it was happening, he knew he’d do whatever he could to keep her in his arms, just like this.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Do You Play?

Day #3 - Prompt: Best Friends | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Goodie (Freak) | Pairing: None | Tags: Making New Friends, Playing D&D

"Can I sit?" a voice beside him asks, startling him.

Goodie looks up, annoyed. He's engrossed in his book, and now there's a boy he's never seen before standing over his lunch table. 

"Uh, I guess?" he answers, because nobody's ever asked to sit with him before. Not even the new kids. Everyone learns pretty fast to stay away from the freak. 

"Cool, thanks," the other boy says. Then adds, "I'm Jeff. My first day," he explains, gesturing around. Yeah, Goodie's aware. He wouldn't be approaching Goodie if he knew anything about anything in this shitty middle school.

Goodie nods as he sits, his lunch tray slapping against the table.

"This is the part where you tell me your name," Jeff prompts, and Goodie sighs. 

"Goodie," he says. Waiting for it: Goody-goody. Little goody two-shoes. Sam Goody.

He's heard it all. He doesn't give a shit anymore. It's unoriginal and tired, and he refuses to play along. Not even for the new kid.

"Do you play?" Jeff asks, seeming to bypass the usual foolishness.

"Play?" Goodie asks.

And Jeff flicks the book in Goodie's hand: Dungeons & Dragons: Rules for Fantastic Medieval Wargames Campaigns Playable with Paper and Pencil and Miniature Figures.

Oh. This is what he's gonna make fun of, then. Great.

"Trying to learn, if I could get this read," Goodie says, pointed. Dismissive. 

"Me too," Jeff says, opening his backpack, holding it out for Goodie to look into, and sure enough, there's a copy of a similar book on top of all Jeff's textbooks.

Goodie admits, "That's cool."

"We'd need a referee. Or, a Dungeon Master as they call them in the later books. Do you want to do it?" Jeff asks.

And Goodie does not. He shakes his head no.

"You know anybody else that plays, then?" Jeff asks. 

Goodie doesn't, and he shakes his head again. 

Jeff nods, accepting his answer, "Well. The two of us can play, but one of us has to be the Dungeon Master," Jeff says, picking up his square piece of pizza and taking a big bite. 

Fine. Goodie will be the referee, the Dungeon Master, but he doesn't want to. Not at all.

They have their stuff spread out on the picnic table in the woods outside of the high school, the only secluded place Goodie knew about. They can't exactly do this in the library. Ms. Waterson would have their asses.

But they're finally playing. It took a couple weeks to read, and learn, but he thinks they finally have a working campaign, as basic as it is.

They are both laughing, having a good time, as Jeff rolls the dice again and Goodie reads from behind his folded out Trapper Keeper he's using as a makeshift screen.

He's about to tell Jeff his fate, when Goodie catches movement out of the corner of his eye, but it's gone in a flash, and he feels a sense of dread. 

"Somebody's here," he hisses, and Jeff turns to look. "Don't look, dummy!"

And Jeff swings his head back around, pretending he wasn't looking. Too late for that.

Goodie tries to ignore the bear, or whatever the fuck it might be lurking in the woods, and goes back to stumbling through the shoddy campaign he's tried to cobble together. It's awful. He wants to play, not host. 

Then he sees it again, the movement behind one of the trees.

"Okay, I know you're there. Come kick our asses or whatever, and then leave us the hell alone!" Goodie hollers, not willing to play peek-a-boo all afternoon.

He thinks nothing is gonna happen, but finally a face pops around from behind the tree.

Eddie Munson.

Great.

The eighth-grader with the buzzcut. The one that's an actual freak. Just what they needed.

From everything he's heard, Eddie Munson is mad at the world, and Goodie isn't about to draw any of that negative attention towards himself. He's no fool. So, he looks away, and hopes Eddie will just leave.

They aren't that lucky. Goodie never is, so he doesn't know why he thought today would be any different.

"What're you boys up to?" Eddie asks, walking over towards the table, and Goodie pro-actively reaches out, trying to protect the set-up. They spent weeks on this, and all of their allowance money. He doesn't want to dig the pieces out of the dead leaves on the ground.

"Just playing a game. Dungeons & Dragons. Ever heard of it?" Jeff asks, like a goddamn fool. 

Goodie glares at his new best friend, trying to relay that this is not the kid to talk to. Abort mission, shut up, Jeff.

But Jeff didn't shut up, and now Eddie nods, sitting down at the table, right next to Goodie, and Goodie resists the urge to scoot away. But he doesn't. Show no weakness. That's what his dad always says. Easier said than done.

Eddie picks up his hand-painted dragon miniature and looks at it closely. Carefully. 

And then Eddie smiles, the barest hint of a grin, "Can I join?"

Can Eddie Munson play with them? Oh, sure, and then later they'll all go to The Hideout for a few beers, Goodie thinks, sarcastically.

"Sure!" Jeff says, excited, "Do you want to be the Dungeon Master? Goodie's terrible at it."

Goodie scoffs.

"Hey, either of you play an instrument? There's a talent show coming up. If we win, that'd be some nice cash to get a new campaign going."

Jeff looks at Goodie, and Goodie shakes his head, adamantly.

"Goodie can play the bass! He's pretty good!" Jeff shouts, and Eddie grins. 

"Excellent," Eddie says, a smile splitting his face, "that's excellent."

Goodie can't help it, he grins back, just a little. Maybe this won't be terrible, after all. For now, he pushes his notes towards Eddie so he can get up to speed on what they do have right now, while they all dream about what they might be able to play together in the future.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[essentiallyleaf]

day 22. daddy kink. with. sakura.

758 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, futa!idol x female reader, daddy kink, cockhungry reader, somewhat rough sex, i’m not feeling very funny tonight.

notes.

they just keep getting shorter! i swear it’s not because i’m procrastinating writing until 12 a.m. though. exhaustedly, leaf.

You met the girl in a mall, she was reading Kafka with the most peaceful, relaxed air, like there was a desert around her, when in reality it was so crowded and loud that you couldn’t hear your friend talk to you from across the table at the coffee shop. She later told you she likes to hear the sound of the artificial waterfall beside the escalator while she reads; you told her, go to the river; she told you, it’s not the same, people go to the river to relax, I don’t read to relax; you asked her, what do you read for?; she answered you, I read to understand what the writer is like in bed. Anyway, you went up to her and asked whether she knew if there was a library in the mall - you knew there was one right around the corner, but pick-up lines aren’t your forte; whose forte are they, if truth be told? - and if she had a book to recommend. “Well, it depends, what do you like?” It’s very easy to make conversation, if you think about it: you can start anywhere you want, and it’s like tributary streams, at some point you always end up channeling into your common interests.

It’s just following the course of the river that leads to her writing down her number on the paper towel you’d gotten with your coffee - “It’s Sakura, by the way, but you can call me Kkura,” she said with a warm smile, like she loved her name, like she had chosen it herself - to the two of you meeting again (neither of you used the word date, but in retrospect, well, yeah) in a bar downtown. They didn’t call themselves a gay bar, but the place had queer written all over it; I mean, Monthly Murder Mystery Monday? Really? To the two of you seeing each other four times in the next week, to her asking if you wanted to come to her house to have a drink after the fourth, cause she wanted to show you her wild animal plushie collection. One thing that surely was wild was the sex, that night. Kkura was plunging into your pussy from the back as you were bent over her bed, ass in the air, and she felt huge inside you. Your face was sunk into the soft light gray-brown fur of the sloth when it escaped your mouth.

“Ngh- ahaadhd- …addy!”

“What did you just say?”

“I- Nothing, I’msor-”

“Again.”

The thing about a river’s delta is, it splits very gradually, just one extra fork at a time, so you don’t really notice how wide it has spread until you’re already deep into it. You start calling her daddy every time you’re hungry for her cock, and she feeds you (the unholy sound of your slurps fills the room like there’s three girls sucking it at the same time, but no, it’s just little old you), then every time you’re hungry. She’s the sweetest girlfriend, you know she’d always get you whatever you’re craving if you asked nicely. You call her daddy when it’s just the two of you, then if there’s close friends around. They still smile jokingly when it happens, but they understand, they know what it’s like; not to be with a girl whose rod that can rearrange your insides, but to be lucky enough to be next to someone that you love and to not be afraid to show it. You almost have a slip up the first time you meet her parents: “Dad- Da… Dadaism was, pretty… wacky, wasn’t it? Duchamp, what an eccentric soul, haha!” Even the save is embarrassing, but it’ll be a great story to tell your kids; ok, maybe not your kids, maybe your friends.

She’s your daddy when you sit on her lap and start grinding on it while she’s having breakfast, when you lay your head on her shoulder and she gropes your tits, only covered by a thin beige t-shirt, while you’re watching Worlds, when she fucks you missionary and slaps your thighs until they become red like your cheeks at her parents’ house, and her fingers gently wrap around your throat, and she kisses you like her throat is burning and only you can help relieve it. You can’t separate freshwater and salt, once you’re out in the sea. It’s all mixed together, as one. And it’s not good or bad, it’s all just part of a natural cycle. Sakura, Kkura, daddy; any name, any place, any time.

-

footnotes.

my favorite shirt from Raygun is the one that says ‘Iowa: flee to flourish’. friedly, leaf.

[sugaredrhubarb]

Reading with Ru: Aug/Sept Fic Recs

I know I'm certainly in need of some positivity and escapism lately, so I'm gonna try to do semi-regular fic and book recs! Starting with a retroactive what I've been reading from the past couple of months with this account! (I might go back in time and make an all-time rec list later)

COD

starting with cod because i know most of you go here

Sergeant Squeaks by @charliemwrites - (series of one-shots ghost x reader and price x reader separately) both one of my favourite reader characters and my favourite canon setting depictions of Ghost and Price. their own weird brands of showing love are wonderful; the tension leading to getting together is fantastic, and the sex is super enjoyable.

Ghost Stories by @kneelingshadowsalome - (ghost x medic!reader) I'm repeating myself, but I love Salome's writing. This is where I was first introduced to it, and I think it's really special. Ghost POV as he struggles with developing and then accepting love. felt so real and grounded. angsty and then fluffy, and you can't help but adore the reader as well.

saltwater by @ceilidho - (ghost x reader) It's pretty unlikely any of you don't know Ceil, but on the off chance you haven't given this one a read yet, it really is a must. I lump praise on her pretty regularly, but I don't know anyone who is able to portray their character's emotions as intimately as Ceil. her ghost feels really grounded in all his complexity. there is a common theme in these recs of really enjoyable reader characters, and this is not an exception; the reader feels like a full but still ambiguous character who is vulnerable and strong and really great.

don't leave me locked in your heart by @ohbo-ohno - (ghoap x reader dark!) we all know bo, we all love bo. I always love the way she depicts ghost and soap's dynamic changing and evolving to include the reader. the descent into dark territory in this is really really fun. It's also just hot and well-written! if you haven't read it before, go read it, and then go read all of bo's drabbles and asks on here. genuinely one of my favourite dark but still fun writers. I think she balances it really well.

body electric by @yeyinde and Afterburn by @sprout-fics - (141 + Los Vaqueros x reader) a classic. I've returned to these so many times. sometimes you just want to read dirty, filthy, well done, smut and then warm cozy aftercare. not to wax poetic about pure sex (except that's exactly what one should do), but I think it can be really hard to write group sex like this and still have such insightful and individual glimpses into each character and dynamic, and Lev does it wonderfully. and then it's also hard to find good aftercare fic, and Sprout's feels like literal aftercare for both the reader character and the reader.

other fandoms

tried to curate to themes i think overlap in some of the cod works! and I think most of these can be read fandom blind.

i revisited @winterrose527's fic in August, and even though she already knows how much I love her work, I won't skip a chance to repeat it. Anna writes for asoiaf and is pretty much the queen of Robb Stark/Myrcella Baratheon, but I would say the modern AUs (my favs) can be read almost completely fandom blind. Any contemporary romance enjoyer would love her work. I'm really partial to her kid/single-parent fics. I think it's so hard to get right, and I always adore reading her kid characters and how she approaches love stories when kids are involved. anna's works are always brimming with love and incredible platonic, familiar, parent-child, and romantic relationships (if kid fic isn't your thing she also has a ton of other great fics). personal favs: We Could Be a Little Something, And There They Are, All the Same

Lawless by @goldcranes - (arthur morgan x ofc) age difference, cowboy love story, essentially a romance novel. if goldcranes has no fans, I'm dead. I encourage you to explore her work; very few people write as strongly across multiple fandoms as she does, and each of her works feels like a really strong love story with special characters.

The Odyssey by @sunlightmurdock - (bradley bradshaw x reader) 1980's roman literature prof x virgin student - no need to know top gun. katie's work is another entry in the 'feels like it stands really strongly separately from the source material' category. she has multiple ongoing AU's that I really love, but this one is a favourite. i think she does complex characters really well - their actions always feel intentional, and as flawed as they are, I always love them.

Wouldn't it be Nice by allyoops - (m/f captive A/B/O) if you aren't reading original works smut on ao3 you are missing out and allyoops is a great place to start for noncon, dubcon, age gap, taboo etc. enjoyers. they have a ton of works; usually one shots with lots of really delicious dynamics and different settings and tropes.

An Intoxicating Presence by FormerlyIR - (mob a/b/o haladriel) MOB. A/B/O. HALADRIEL. picks up with Halbrand in prison thanks to undercover FBI agent (and his mate!) Galadriel. does that sound crazy and awesome? well it is. mix it with Gal's internal struggle, the added complication of omegaverse, and overall great writing. really fun and really damn good.

civitas terrena by banalityofweevil - (darklina) angel Alina on an exploration of love in immortality with fallen angel Aleks. honestly, it's just a must-read for enjoyers of writing. incredibly creative with divine (literally and figuratively) imagery. i think one of my comments was on the precision of lulu's diction and I really stand by that.

tinsel into gold by ribbonedhare - (darklina) ddlg and cnc friends, this changed me. it is so warm and soft and my god, is it good. just scrumptious.

Be My Babydoll by KittyDruthers - (darklina) ddlg dollification need I say more

check the reading with ru tag for more!

[midsummer-semantics]

Schoolyard Crush

[This is originally posted to twt as threads, but I'm posting the parts here as a full bit and will update as it updates]

Preschool teacher Steve/Single Dad Eddie

Threads: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

[Part 1]

Steve knows he's not allowed to play favorites. All of his kids are amazing (except Daniel, that kid is a rabid chipmunk in a human suit). But most of them are fantastic.

Minnie, though. She's probably his favorite. Big eyes and thousand-watt smile every time Steve comes in the building. He's only been at the job a few months, but every day reminds him why he took the job in the first place. Especially with kids like Minnie, who always grabs "Mr. Steve's" hand and drags him over to do puzzles or read one of the Dr. Seuss books in the little corner library.

As Mother's Day approaches, the other teachers in his pod get the kids set up to make hand-flower bouquets for their mother-figures. Some do it for their grandmother, others for older siblings, some do two for both mom's.

Minnie tugs on Steve's pant leg while he's helping Braden with his hand prints.

"What's up, Minnie-moo?"

"How do I spell 'daddy'?" she asks, a D and A already written on her vase. She's always been so smart.

Steve helps her spell it out, not even questioning it.

He doesn't know a lot about her home life, but maybe she has a dad she considers a mom as well. Kids are always figuring things out as much as their limited experiences can help them understand.

He's not entirely incorrect. At some point, Minnie wants to show off her dad, grabbing Steve by the hand and taking him over to the wall of family photos in the room that he hasn't actually looked at too closely before.

"That's my daddy!" Minnie says excitedly, pointing to a picture of a curly-haired blast-from-the-past smiling at the camera, Minnie clutched in his arms. Steve's not sure how he didn't put two and two together before. Minnie's hair is the same wild curly brown, her eyes too big in an adorable doll-like way, and her clothes a mix of baby band t-shirts and tutus.

"That's your dad?" he asks to clarify.

"Yep!" Minnie says proudly before walking away, leaving Steve staring at the smiling face of his high school crush like it's not the revelation it really is.

Eddie Munson, notorious metalhead shit-stirrer — who Steve was pretty sure was as gay as he is — is the father of his favorite kid. Somehow, that figures. Steve's always had poor judgement.

It's not until a couple of days later that Steve gets the reality check.

It's recess, Minnie running around the playground with her friends when Eddie shows up, in the flesh. He doesn't stop Steve right away, leaning against the gate to watch his daughter screech and giggle with her friends. He looks good, because of course he does, he always has. But it's been 8 years since Steve's seen him and he's a man now, not the awkward, table-top-rant nerd he was in high school.

Steve takes a chance.

"Mr. Munson," he greets with faux happiness, his heart rabbiting in his chest. He keeps his body turned toward the playground, as per protocol, but mostly so he doesn't have to look in Eddie's stupidly beautiful eyes. He wants to look, but he fights it.

It doesn't matter, though, because as soon as Eddie mutters a shocked but quiet, "Steve?" he knows he's done for.

[Part 2]

Before Steve can respond, Minnie comes running up to the gate screeching excitedly.

“Daddy! Daddy! This is Mr. Steve!”

Steve watches Eddie’s eyes soften so quickly at the presence of his daughter that it makes Steve’s teeth ache.

“I know, sweetie,” Eddie says, turning those same soft eyes on Steve now. “I’ve known Mr. Steve a very long time.”

Minnie’s head tilts like a puppy and Steve has the sudden urge to squeeze her until she pops. “What? But Mr. Steve is new here. And you’re too old for him to be your teacher.”

Steve slaps a hand over his mouth to cut off the cackle that nearly escapes. Yep, that’s Eddie’s kid alright.

Eddie, meanwhile, has gone ruby in the face, sputtering at his daughter’s lack of a social filter.

Steve takes pity on him, though he’s still snickering a little as he swings Minnie up into his arms. She giggles delightedly and boops Steve on the nose.

“I wasn’t your daddy’s teacher, Minnie-moo. I was his classmate. Kind of like how you have classmates here,” he explains.

Minnie’s eyes go wide at that. “Were you best friends like me and Grace?!”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to blush. He looks at Eddie for help, finding his own confusion about how to answer her reflected back at him.

“Uh, not exactly,” Steve starts. “But maybe… we could be?”

The last part is said directly to Eddie, who looks a little shocked at the question.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.” Eddie nods, curls bouncing. “Best friends who… maybe get dinner together? Friday?”

Steve can feel his blush deepen. He hasn’t seen heads or tails of Eddie in 8 years and the man is just… asking him out on a date? While Steve’s holding his child? How does Eddie even know Steve might be into that?

Then, Eddie’s eyes dart down to Steve’s work polo, and Steve puts it together. Eddie’s eying the rainbow pin there. Steve’s suddenly grateful for his boss that lets him wear it. The kids just think it’s pretty, but it’s really coming in handy right now.

“Yeah, Friday,” Steve agrees.

“Seven?”

“Seven is perfect.”

Suddenly, Minnie makes an indignant noise, a pout on her lips. “But I’ll be with Grampa on Friday.”

‘Grampa’ must be the older gentleman that normally picks Minnie up, Steve supposes.

“That’s the idea, kiddo. Time to go,” Eddie says, shooting a subtle wink Steve’s way.

Steve gets her passed off to the front office girl, still standing near the gate as Eddie and Minnie take their leave. Eddie stops by the gate once more, Minnie’s head resting on his shoulder while she fiddles with a band pin on his jacket, still looking put out.

“Seven on Friday.”

“Seven on Friday,” Steve confirms. Then, much lower: “You can tell me how you became a daddy.”

Eddie’s smile turns a little wicked, a flash of high-school Eddie rushing to the front of Steve’s mind.

“Well, Mr. Steve, if we’re 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 friends, I can show you as well.”

Steve inhales sharply, listening to Eddie’s responding cackle as he starts walking away.

Friday it is.

[Part 3]

Steve's not sure he's ever been so nervous for a date before. Which is ridiculous because he knows Eddie. He's known Eddie since he was 15. Surely that has to count for something? But no, the moment he sees Eddie at the table, everything Steve knows leaves his brain in a rush.

Dinner is nice. Great food, better company, but the biggest question is still harping on him.

"Go ahead," Eddie prompts after a time, "Ask."

Steve blushes, knowing he's been clocked. "Sure, yeah. Um... so... Minnie."

Eddie snorts, clearing his throat with a drink of his wine, like he's lubricating his throat for the answer.

Okay, bad thought.

DOWN BOY.

"Minnie is mine, in case you're wondering."

Steve blinks, taken aback.

"Yeah, clearly. Same—" he gestures to Eddie, "everything."

Eddie grins, nodding. "Yeah, clearly. Her other dad is..." Eddie pauses, visibly recalibrating several explanations. "His IUD failed," he settles on. "We weren't dating, just casual, but he got pregnant anyway. And I'm the idiot who didn't wrap it before I tapped it."

Steve waits on baited breath, knowing there's more.

"He wanted to... terminate," Eddie continues. "Even made a couple of appointments, but never went through with them. He never wanted kids and I respected that! It's not my body, ya know? But I think part of me always hoped. And then he made me a deal: he would go through with the pregnancy in exchange for relinquishing all parental rights. No child support, no contact, total single parent life."

Eddie shrugs, like that's just the way the cookie crumbles and not like it was a drastic life decision.

"And I got Minnie out of it," he says, pride clear in his voice. Steve melts, seeing the obvious love in Eddie's voice. "And I wouldn't change a thing about it."

Steve nods, not getting it personally, but empathetic nonetheless. "She's a fantastic person. You've done an amazing job raising her," he says, reaching across to take Eddie's hand. It feels over-familiar, but Eddie doesn't pull away, just turns his hand to interlace their fingers together.

"And you've taught her so much since you started. Every day she comes home and it's 'Mr. Steve' this and

'Mr. Steve' that. I swear, I don't know how I didn't put it together sooner." Steve chuckles despite the way his face heats at the praise. He takes another drink, just to steel himself before he says, "Well, now you've told me how you became a daddy... Still up to show me?"

[Part 4]

They barely make it back to Steve's fully clothed. Eddie had offered up his place, but Steve didn't want the first time he's in Eddie and Minnie's house to be marked by sex they're apparently both eager to engage in.

Plus he really hopes this isn't the only time this will happen, or be the only date they go on, so he can wait to see the more domestic parts of Eddie's life until they have the "what are we?" talk.

Steve nearly leaves his cardigan in the Uber after it was yanked off by Eddie who apparently has no qualms about exhibitionism (Steve leaves a hefty tip in apology), but they managed to stumble into his apartment still mostly in-tact.

Eddie backs him against the front door the moment they're inside, his lips planted against Steve's throat.

"Tell me what you want, sweet boy," Eddie murmurs, seemingly careful not to leave any damning marks on him. Steve would let him if he knew it wouldn't subject him to a world of shit at work on Monday. His coworkers are nosey, and the kids are likely to ask how he got a bruise on his neck without realizing what it is.

"I already told you what I wanted," Steve groans, his hands fisted in Eddie's shirt, contemplating the merits of ripping it off entirely.

Eddie chuckles, a dark thing, and pulls back to look at Steve with dangerous clarity. His thigh is wedged between Steve's, right up against his rapidly growing erection, and Steve's practically vibrating with need.

"Remind me again what that was, sweetheart," Eddie prompts, grinding his hips forward and his thigh up, knocking a shaky moan from Steve's panting lips.

"Ah! Want- want you to show me—" he chokes out, rutting down against Eddie's leg, cursing the layers between them.

"Gonna have to be more specific," Eddie teases, even though he's already working on the buttons of Steve's shirt.

Steve's brain is already fuzzy, rutting mindlessly against Eddie's thigh while Eddie works his shirt open enough to attach his lips to his collarbone. There he finally sucks a mark in the safe zone, the first of many, Steve hopes.

“I w-want you to show me how you became a daddy,” Steve stutters out, fully yanking on Eddie’s shirt at this point. He needs him naked and inside him yesterday.

“Good boy.”

It’s a flurry of rushed movements after that. Clothes go flying, Steve trips on his way to the bedroom like he doesn’t know where he’s going, and Eddie’s laugh lights him up inside.

Eddie pins him to the bed, staring down with stars in his eyes.

“You want me to be your daddy, baby?” he asks, running his hands up Steve’s sides in a way that’s too ticklish for the words he’s saying. “Fuck you raw and keep you full ‘til it takes?”

Steve whimpers, reaching for Eddie’s arms to tug him down.

“Yes, daddy. Please,” Steve pants. Eddie’s cock brushes against his own every time Steve’s hips jump, needing to feel him. “Want it. Want your baby. Give your daughter a sibling.”

Eddie groans and captures his mouth in a filthy kiss before reaching for the lube.

Steve’s mind — and mouth — run through all kinds of scenarios while Eddie opens him up. If only he could get pregnant. Steve’s always wanted kids, a big family, a partner to love and kids to spoil. Maybe 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 could do that for him. It’s way too soon, but —

“Fuck, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦,” Eddie moans, sucking another mark into the crease where’s Steves hip meets his thigh, three-fingers deep already. “You gotta shut up before I tie you down and keep you forever.”

“Want it, want it,” Steve repeats, past the point of caring that he’s a pathetic begging mess. “Please, daddy. Give it to me!”

And he does. Eddie’s careful when he finally presses in, but Steve’s having none of it. He wants this fast and dirty. They can make love later. He needs Eddie to breed him over and over until nature and the universe rewrites itself.

Eddie’s hammering at his insides, one hand jerking Steve off, the other holding himself up as he sucks another mark right over Steve’s heart. 

"𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺!" is all the warning Steve gets out before he’s cumming hard, back bowing and blood boiling.

“Steve, baby, 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬!" Eddie grunts, finding his own end deep inside Steve.

It won’t take, but Steve can pretend it does. He can hold Eddie close like they’ve been doing this all their life and will keep doing it forever.

“God, I hope so, baby,” Eddie breathes against his neck.

Oops, apparently Steve was thinking out loud again.

“Me too, daddy,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie snorts and kisses the side of his sweaty throat. He leaves his face buried there while they attempt to come back down, just breathing together.

After a moment, Eddie mumbles, almost too quietly for Steve’s ears to pick up: “How many dates do I have to take you on until we can tell Minnie?”

Steve’s heart stops and restarts. Eddie wants to do that? Roleplaying was one thing, but he actually wants his daughter to know they’re… what? Dating? Officially together? Trying to get pregnant even though that’s not going to work?

Okay, maybe not the last part. She’s only 4. 

“Um,” Steve hesitates, swallowing around a dry lump. “It’s your call, Eddie. You already know I love her.”

Eddie nods against his shoulder and tucks in tighter against him.

They don’t have to figure it out yet. They have time.

[Part 5]

Steve’s pretty sure he has a perpetual blush every time he sees Minnie now. Never mind that his coworkers seem to know exactly how close he is with her dad just by looking at him. It’s like he has “Daddy’s Boy” written across his forehead now.

The Friday before Father’s day, Steve and his co-teachers are helping the children make hand-print awards that say things like “# 1 dad” or “# 1 papa”.

“Mr. Steve,” Minnie says from across the little table that he and several of her classmates are sitting around.

It takes all of his self control not to keep her plastered to his side at all times. Eddie desperately wants to tell her about them, but Steve’s worried about confusing her.

He’s also worried that Eddie will change his mind, but he’s terrified to say that out loud, like it’ll manifest immediately if he gives it breath. The fact Eddie is so adamant means the world to him, but his own history with flighty parents means he doesn’t want to risk being that in Minnie’s life. She means as much to him as Eddie does, possibly more because she’s such an angel and he would be lucky to be there for her, however Eddie wants him to be.

So when she says his name in her little voice, his heart flutters and his focus is 100% on her -- a dangerous task when he has Daniel next to him with paint all over his hands.

“Yes, Minnie-moo?” Steve asks, the nickname still making her giggle.

“How do you spell rockstar?” she asks. She has her pencil poised and ready to let him list off the letters. Steve does, doing his best to not let Daniel run amok with gold fingers while helping Minnie create a # 1 Rockstar award for her dad.

“Thank you!” Minnie says excitedly before grabbing her art and running over to Robin. Steve just knows Eddie’s going to cry when he sees it. Hell, Steve can feel the burning of tears behind his own eyes as he thinks about the two of them. They’re a perfect family, and the fact that Eddie wants him to be part of that, even so soon, is something Steve still can’t wrap his head around.

Instead, he tries to refocus on helping the other kids who are making gifts for their parents, and probably doing a terrible job at pretending he’s not always half-watching Minnie.

At the end of the day, while Steve’s chasing the kids around during recess, a gorgeous swath of dark curls catches his eye. He spins toward the gate, spotting Eddie among the other eager parents waiting for their children.

“Happy Father’s day,” Steve says when he approaches the gate, once again keeping his attention mostly on the children playing.

“Thank you again, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, sending him a wink.

Again, meaning after Steve texted him first thing that morning. Steve feels his entire face heat up because what he actually told him that morning was “happy father’s day daddy.”

“Minnie has a gift for you,” he deflects.

“I’ll grab it!” Robin pipes up, nearly scaring the shit out of Steve in the process.

“Oh! Uh… thank you, Ms. Robin,” Steve stammers, before dropping low to scoop a giggly Minnie into his arms. “You ready to give your daddy a happy father’s day?”

“We made cards!” she tells him, proud as anything.

“Yeah?” Eddie chuckles. “Is it gonna make me cry?”

“Probably,” she states, suddenly very serious. Steve and Eddie both glance at each other, nervous smiles on their faces.

As Robin reappears from the classroom, arms held behind her back, Minnie wiggles in Steve’s arms. “Ms. Robin, I can give them to them, right?”

“Of course you can, Minnie,” Robin replies with a megawatt smile.

“Mr. Steve, can you put me down please?”

Steve blinks a few times, thoroughly confused. “Oh! Sure, of course, Miss Minnie.”

He sets her on the ground, looking over to find the overly fond look on Eddie’s face at the entire interaction.

“Thank you,” Minnie chimes, smoothing her My Little Pony dress out immediately.

“You can walk her out, dingus,” Robin mutters as Minnie walks toward the door to the office.

“But--” he starts, cut off by his boss who opens the door and waves him inside. Steve hesitates only for a moment before chasing after Minnie, scooping her back into his arms before carrying her out to the parking lot. Eddie has moved toward the front door, already waiting for them both with open arms. Steve just steps into them, melting immediately into a group hug with two of his favorite people.

“I missed you both so much,” Eddie coos, planting a smacking kiss to Minnie’s cheek while surreptitiously squeezing Steve’s hip. 

Minnie kisses him back before turning dangerously in Steve’s grasp to call out: “Ms. Robin! My awards!”

“Of course, Minnie, darling,” Robin says with over-inflated grandeur, bowing and then holding several pieces of paper between the bars. Steve shuffles them close enough for Minnie to grab, confused as to why there’s more than one.

“Here,” Minnie says, immediately holding them out for Eddie to take without explanation. Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he accepts them, turning them over to see.

The first is the one Steve helped her with, her hand the centerpiece of an award with # 1 Rockstar written on a would-be plaque.

“Oh, Minnie,” Eddie whispers, tears gathering in his eyes. Steve wants to gather him back up in his arms, but refrains in public.

“There’s more,” Minnie states proudly, and Steve watches Eddie shuffle the top award to the back.

The second says “# 1 grampa” spelled exactly as she pronounces it. Steve’s eyes burn and he’s not able to wipe away the tear that escapes since he has his arms full of the thoughtful 4-year-old.

“It’s for Grampa Wayne,” she explains, like Eddie might be confused.

Eddie sniffles, pressing the award stack to his chest as he says, “He’s gonna love it, sweet pea.”

Minnie looks proud, which makes Steve feel proud too, even if he knows Robin helped her with it. He’s so proud of Minnie for being the amazing little girl she is, but also so proud of Eddie for being the incredible father that she needs.

Eddie moves in to wrap them both back in a hug when Minnie cries: “Wait there’s one more!”

“Oh! Of course, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, his voice a little strained despite the breathtaking smile on his face.

He shuffles the pages once more, freezing when the last one is revealed. 

Steve only helped with the first one; he had no idea she made three of them.

He stands there with Minnie in his arms, watching Eddie’s eyebrows draw together and then up, the tears in his eyes pooling even more. It’s all incredibly worrying because Steve’s never seen Eddie cry this much, and now he’s terrified about what the final one says.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks after a moment, glancing at Robin for a second, who looks on the verge of tears herself despite the smile on her face.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, and then turns the pages over for Steve to see.

There, on the would-be plaque under Minnie’s tiny hand print, says “#1 Steve.”

Steve gasps, eyes raking over the scribbly handwriting again and again.

“Oh no,” Minnie mumbles, her smile falling and big brown eyes tearing up, “It makes you sad.”

Steve chuckles around a sob and holds Minnie tighter, burying his face in her familiar curly hair. “No, baby girl. I’m so happy.”

“Happy tears?” she asks when he pulls back.

“Very happy tears. My number one Minnie,” he replies. Her face lights up once more as she throws her arms around Steve’s neck and attempts to squeeze the life out of him.

Steve looks to Eddie, making sure everything about this is okay. The man looks elated, tears flowing freely. Steve almost forgets they’re standing in the parking lot of his job.

“Now?” Eddie mouths. Steve, blinking back more tears, nods definitively. “Hey Minnie-moo,” Eddie says, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair to get her attention. “What do you think of Mr. Steve being around outside of school? Like, as daddy’s boyfriend?”