#and even though he’s been working for longer than me he also doesn’t have savings to leave

[spacebell]

I do love my brother but I just don’t love living with him

[saphronethaleph]

The Deal

“Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi,” Palpatine said. “Learn to know the dark side of the Force, Anakin, and you will be able to save your wife from certain death.”

“What did you say?” Anakin asked.

“Use my knowledge, I beg you…” Palpatine pleaded.

“You’re a Sith Lord!” Anakin said.

He reached for his lightsaber, then paused.

“That story you told, about Darth Plagueis,” he said. “You mean – that was true? He really did discover a way to save people from death?”

“Yes, Anakin,” Palpatine agreed. “And I will-”

“So,” Anakin interrupted, frowning. “How do you know it? You said his apprentice murdered him in his sleep.”

“Because he taught everything to… his apprentice… before dying,” Palpatine explained.

“Again,” Anakin said, patiently. “How do you know it?”

“I was that apprentice!” Palpatine explained.

“So you killed your master in his sleep, and you ordered me to kill your apprentice, Dooku,” Anakin said. “You know, Chancellor, this isn’t a great job offer.”

“But think of what you have to gain, Anakin,” Palpatine said. “I can save your wife. Isn’t that what matters?”

“...yeah,” Anakin agreed, still frowning. “So when did Plagueis die?”

“About… fifteen years ago, now?” Palpatine said. “Maybe sixteen? Something like that. Why does that matter?”

“Just wanting to make sure I’ve got all the information, Chancellor,” Anakin replied. “Who have you been healing? Because I don’t actually think you’ve got any loved ones.”

He made a face. “Obi-Wan once took me aside and told me about what to look out for when an older man was going to try and touch me in the wrong way.”

“You see?” Palpatine asked. “He doesn’t trust you!”

“I see his point, though,” Anakin said. “Because you don’t have any loved ones that I can think of, like I say… so who have you been healing?”

Palpatine frowned.

“...why does that matter, Anakin?” he asked.

“Because it sounds like you learned how to do this at least fifteen years ago and you’ve never actually tried it,” Anakin clarified. “Which really sounds like you can’t do it, or even if you could before your medical license has expired.”

“I most certainly can!” Palpatine said, his patience fraying slightly. “Anakin, I am trying to help you!”

“Okay, then,” Anakin replied. “Teach me now.”

Palpatine made a face.

“If I do that, then how will I know you won’t betray me?” he said.

“...you’re saying that the only thing that would keep me from betraying you is if you don’t teach me the healing technique,” Anakin said, nodding. “So you’ve got no reason to get around to teaching me. I know how to lure an Eopie, Chancellor.”

“It will take too long to teach you, anyway,” Palpatine declared. “We can’t do it tonight. It won’t fit.”

“You’re really trying to help me, huh?” Anakin said. “Because all the visions I’ve been having about my wife dying are about it happening soon…”

He stopped.

“Actually, how do you know about that? I don’t think I ever told you.”

“Oh, please, it’s obvious that you’re married-” Palpatine said, rolling his eyes.

“I mean about the certain death bit,” Anakin explained. “It’s a bit of a guess.”

He frowned, visibly thinking. “And, uh… okay, so what you’re saying is that… you’re a Sith, you want to take direct control of the Jedi, and that’s because of the war against the Separatists, who were led by Count Dooku. Who was your apprentice… and then for me, personally, you want me to turn to the Dark Side so you can teach me a healing technique you’ve never actually used yourself, while you’ve killed the last two people who worked directly with you the moment they were no longer useful to you.”

Palpatine looked pained.

“That’s a very negative attitude, Anakin,” he said.

“I want to make sure I’ve got all this straight, is all,” Anakin replied.

Mace Windu’s commlink beeped, in a specific pattern that indicated it was a member of the Council.

“Windu here,” he said, raising the device to his ear.

“Master, I quit,” Anakin told him. “Also I married Senator Amidala at the start of the war, Palpatine was the Sith Lord, and I’d quite like to sleep for a week at some point. I’ve had a very long day.”

“...what?” Mace asked, a bit overloaded himself.

“Like, I’m pretty sure my day has had the sun go down three times so far,” Anakin went on. “Also the Chancellor exploded when I killed him. It’s okay, he was shooting lightning at me, that makes it fair.”

[reverie-starlight]

I miss knb and I wanted to write something for aomine :’) I’ve never written for him and it’s been a while since I’ve watched the show, so forgive me if you feel that his characterization is a bit off. hello from late january cause that’s when I’m queuing this 👋🏻

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. lots and lots and lots of fluffy pet names bc that’s the focus of the drabble. he calls you shnookums once just to annoy you bc he’s a little shit. that’s a warning in itself tbh. mentions of alcohol/drunk character. characters written as adults, not high schoolers.

aomine has specific nicknames for you depending on the situation you find yourselves in.

he reserves “babe” or some shortened variation of your name for when you’re in public.

it’s quick, it’s casual, and it doesn’t get him a lecture on why it’s not funny to very loudly address you as “shnookums” when you get separated at the grocery store.

(though in his defence, he thought it worked wonders. you were back at his side within seconds after straying too far on accident with a half embarrassed, half pissed off look on your face. he thought it was hilarious.)

~~~

he calls you “baby” when he greets you after a long day at work. when he’s picking you up from your classes. normally only in your presence, because he doesn’t need the teasing remarks about how soft he’s become from his teammates.

not that he really cares at the end of the day- he’ll call you what he wants to call you (provided you also like it, of course) but there’s something less casual about it that makes him want to keep it just for you.

that “something” being the time you got drunk and offhandedly mentioned loving the way it sounds in his voice. he now gets to enjoy the small, barely noticeable uptick of your lips whenever he opts for it. no one else gets to see that.

he’ll help you with your coat and press a kiss to your hairline, murmuring a soft “hey baby, missed you today”.

it’s probably the most common of the names he uses on you out of all the available options.

~~~

he saves the saccharine pet names for when he knows you’re not feeling your best. whether you’re mentally drained, physically exhausted or sick to any degree, there’s never not a time when hearing him be sickeningly sweet with you doesn’t ease the pain.

“need anything else, sweetheart?”

“how are you feeling, gorgeous?”

“yeah, we can cuddle, doll, c’mere.”

these are also the times he plays up the compliments (more than usual).

“even when you’re sick, you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. don’t let it get to your head, though. or do- I know how to deal with that just fine, too.”

~~~

he doesn’t have one set nickname for you when you visit him at practice, but when you watch him play in an official game?

as long as you’ve known him, he’s never believed in luck- he got himself to where he is with his skills, luck had nothing to do with it.

so it surprises you the first time he refers to you as his good luck charm. it’s not said in some grand gesture, not brought up in those fluff promotional interviews when reporters ask him if he has one.

it’s whispered quietly into your ear before he jogs onto the court.

a murmured thank you against your lips as soon as he’s running off again, high on a win, straight to you.

you ask him about it one day and he just shrugs. “everything is different now. I play better when I know you’re watching, it’s energizing in a way I’ve never felt before. you’re right, I still don’t believe in luck, but somehow I was able to find you. and I don’t know if I would call that luck, either, but until I find a better way to explain it you’re just gonna have to put up with that title a bit longer.”

so you do, without complaints, because it’s cute trying to watch him convey his feelings honestly and still in a very aomine way.

~~~

your absolute favourite nickname that he’s given you, though? angel.

you’re his angel.

the title is first appointed when you pick him up one night from a bar after celebrating with his team. his usually brooding expression visibly lights up when he sees you and he makes his way over. it’s been a while since he’s been this drunk, so it makes you laugh when he stumbles over and throws an arm around your shoulders.

“what a sweetheart, you really came to pick me up?”

you scoff and try to get him into the car, waving at his teammates who were staying with him until you got there. “what, baby, you thought I wouldn’t?”

he shrugs with an absentminded grin. “it’s just nice to have a… battle angel or whatever that term is. I dunno what it is.”

you can’t help but laugh. “you mean a guardian angel?”

“same thing, you knew what I meant!” his words are slurred and he’s now leaning his entire body weight against you.

“oh you are so wasted, daiki, let’s get you home.”

and it’s whispered again at home as he’s falling asleep, “my angel… thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

your heart squeezes.

now it’s reserved for only the most intimate of moments with him- he doesn’t want to overuse the name and risk it losing its meaning.

because it does hold a deeper, unspoken meaning between the two of you.

after a long time apart because of his away games? after he wins an important match? loses a match and he’s thankful you’re there with him? you get a promotion at work? you pass a difficult class with flying colours? all situations where he’d call you angel.

he has a full arsenal of names for you, clearly, and you love every single one of them.

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

this feels a bit messy. even after editing, I feel like the quality went down a bit, so we’ll see if I end up posting it. but I love him a lot and I’ve been rewatching knb, so I needed to do something for him to keep the brainrot at bay.

tagging: @dira333

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni. mentions of underage drinking, descriptive sexual activities. masterlist | previous | next

you are on: incubation. (part one) a/n:

hello!! my name is sozila, and this is my first ever work on tumblr/ao3 so bear with me if my writing seems a little elementary :,) let me know what you think, esp if it's constructive feedback! i've been a huge fic reader since i was 11, if that's any solace <3 (i'm in my second year of college now lmao) this piece really just came to me because i craved older brother sukuna and breezed through every fic with him in it. also, i wanted to incorporate parts of my college experience and hence the allegory to infectious diseases, i promise i'll hash it out adequately soon haha <3 also to note: i'm aware this chapter is rather short, but i intend to make longer chapters as the story continues! until then, here's a little bit of what i have :) enjoy!

ao3 link here.

incubation. (part one) you were 2 years into being best friends with yuuji itadori before you saw him. an idea of him was created in your head through a web of yuuji’s descriptions, megumi’s mild irritations. nobara’s hot-cold opinion that “he’s an insufferable asshole, but those tattoos do numbers on girls”. some part of you felt allured by the mystery of his identity, even though you knew exactly who he was. at least, as much as you could from the near-empty instagram account and pictures from yuuji’s childhood littering the apartment.

it was odd you didn’t meet until now, but university had other plans for you. it made sense though— as a pre-med student, you didn’t have much time to hang out or go to frat parties, as much as nobara complained about your lack of thrill for wilding out. you digressed, but promised as soon as you secured an internship you’d maybe allow a bottle of vodka on you, in the comfort of your shared apartment. yuuji and megumi never held your busy schedule against you; which you genuinely appreciated. you loved that whenever you did get to see them, things picked up right where you left off.

which is why you were surprised at the very least to be met with someone you knew yet were so unfamiliar with standing before you when you knocked on yuuji’s door.

“you one of yuu’s new leeches or what?”

your brows furrowed a little more at the jab on your character, but you utter nothing as you take in the fact ryomen itadori isn’t a mythical brother your best friend made up. he looks exactly like the lockscreen picture on yuuji’s phone, save for a couple new tattoos on his face and arms. his hair was a mix between a mean undercut and ivy league, sporting the same pink hue of his younger brother’s. a simple silver chain hung on his neck which drew you downwards to his chest. he was definitely built much bigger and wider than yuuji. coarse, and just.. raw. you register you’ve been staring at this man clad only in a wife pleaser and joggers for an inappropriately long time and clear your throat, straightening, holding your bag a little closer as if it was going to disappear with a glance of his sanguine eyes.

“you gonna stand there all day, or should i close the door on ya?”

his gruff voice now laced with irritation led you to match his demeanor. you give him a wry, plastered smile and push past him. he lets you, surprisingly.

“can’t really go in with you blocking the entire entryway, asshole.”

he doesn’t acknowledge the blatant insult and walks towards the kitchen. your nose catches it first- he was cooking something really good. suddenly, he yells over his shoulder while he stirs the pot.

“yuuji c’mon, i’m not babysitting for your ass!”

the thomp-thomp-thomps of yuuji’s footsteps follow with him hurrying down the stairs and he flashes a dorky smile to you. “sorry, sorry! you met my lovely best friend then, aniki?”

he grunts without turning around. you didn’t even consider this a conservation, but yuuji seemed unphased by his wet-blanket personality. guess older brotherhood looked like this. yuuji flits around the stove where he’s working to stick a finger in the pot and steal a taste, which sukuna smacked him upside the head for.

rubbing the back of head, yuuji then turns and faces you to give your arms a little squeeze. “megs is running a little late from swim team practice, but he’ll be here soon. ryo made dinner for us though!” he quips brightly.

with a whip of his head and a withering look, you deduced sukuna wasn’t aware of this information, but grumbled to himself. you made out a “motherfucker” and “freeloader” in his long curse.

you pull your happy-go-lucky friend a little out of earshot and bring him to your level to whisper harshly. “yuu, i don’t want to inconvenience your brother.. he already seems pissed i exist,” you murmur. your gaze returns to the giant man in the kitchen and something tickles in your chest. immediately he slaps your shoulder and chortles, as if you told him something outlandish. “don’t even worry! he acts like that all the time, he just doesn’t know you well enough yet.”

you weren’t sure you even wanted him to.

it was 7:30 when you heard the ring of the doorbell and your head lifts from the snug placement you took on the couch. sukuna had already slipped away upstairs so yuuji answers this time, much to your dismay. you lament internally that megumi wouldn’t face the same frosty welcome as you did. you hear two voices instead of just the one you expected and crane over to see a certain red headed girl you knew. she beams upon noticing your peeking form. “you’re here early, miss i-have-no-time-for-my-beloved-friends,” quicker than you could react, she was already beelining to jump on you with a smothering hug.

you try to muster a clear response but get muffled by her puffy knit sweatshirt. “if you checked your phone you’d know i told you!” you push your computer out of reach so it wouldn’t be swept in the tornado that was nobara kugisaki.

megumi had already taken a seat on the rug beside yuuji, deep in conversation about winter finals. however, it became evident it was more megumi lecturing yuuji on course material and the latter looking more confused and stressed by the second.

you move nobara enough to clap your hands and catch their attention.

“if you guys utter the word ‘exams’ one more time, i swear will explode.”

nobara snorts above you and knocks on your head. “look who’s talking. is your memory shot to hell or do you not remember all the times you bring it up yourself?”

“she literally did this afternoon,” yuuji mumbles with a pout. you throw a decorative pillow at him.

“hey! don’t forget i literally made your study schedule for you. and even the studious want a little break,” you defend with a huff. nobara d’awws and squishes your cheeks. “my poor little baby! however did you survive.”

“you guys suck. i deserve nothing but love and affection.”

yuuji rolls his eyes and whines. “oh my goood, yes we love you and appreciate you, hugs kisses rainbows blah blah— i wanna watch a movie already!”

you giggle at his antics as nobara pushes off you, walking to the unabashedly large TV and starts filing through yuuji’s big movie bookshelf. “what are we feeling tonight? fast and furious, ladybird, jigsaw..”

after a couple minutes you all agree on midsommar, which you protested but lost in a 3 to 1 vote (democracy is a joke). you could never sleep properly after a good horror movie, hence you always watched them during the daytime. but because your friends were evil, namely nobara, you had to endure some at night and ended up sleepless and jumpy. “if you can’t sleep, just slip in with me tonight,” nobara counters with a dismissive wave. while you knew neither nobara nor her girlfriend, maki, would bat an eye because of their long friendship with you, you worried for your own well-being. nobara was a huge kicker in her sleep (she denies this profusely). too many times after a night out you’d wake up on the floor with bruises on your side while nobara dozed peacefully, starfish-ed on the bed. you sigh and accept your fate.

the movie ends up being just as if not more unsettling than you expected. you knew nobara clocked out much earlier than you thought when you heard no reaction to the bear scene (never getting that image out of your brain, you fear). you stretch your neck to assess who’s out. beyond the dirty plates on the coffee table from the dinner sukuna “made” for you all, you can make out yuuji cradled into megumi’s chest, snoring lightly. the urchin haired boy didn’t stir much either, so you peel from nobara’s vice-like grip on you to throw a blanket over the two of them. out of the corner of your eye, you see yuuji cuddle into megumi a little more, a small smile on his dozing face. god, you eagerly await the day they could be honest about their feelings. you step back around quietly to adjust nobara on the couch into a more comfortable position.

to navigate out with a better light you fish your jeans for your phone but to your dismay, are met with empty pockets. it didn’t help that your nerves on high alert and the living room was lit only by the glow from the tv. something straight out of a horror movie. genuinely fuck my life. you frown as you crouch down to feel around underneath the couch. after a few minutes of helpless padding later, the task seemed fruitless and you began to retreat to yuuji’s room. nothing could prepare you to feel a big, cold hand palm your shoulder. you freeze, your spine going icy. is this how i’m going to die? swiveling faster than your mind could compute you almost let out a bloodcurdling shriek, only to be met with the same cold hand pressing your mouth shut.

“are you fuckin’ mental?”

sanguine eyes bore back into yours and you fight the urge to bite the hand pressing on you. the audacity of this guy was baffling, really.

you shove him off and glare pointedly.

“me? i’m mental? says the dick who decided to sneak up on someone and grab them like a fucking serial killer!”

you jab a finger on his chest, seething in a whisper. his chest, in reality, was much harder than you anticipated and your finger probably hurt more than the attack on him.

a step. he’s closer to you and now in possession of said finger.

“i lightly tapped you. the rest was damage control, sweetheart.”

“sweetheart?”

“i can’t call you that?”

“how about you don’t call me anything, ever? thanks.”

“makes sense that i can’t call you. got your phone, and all.”

your mouth drops a little. “what?” he snickers. “if you weren’t so busy trying to curse me into the next domain, you’d realize i’ve had your phone in my hand this whole time. fuckin’ idiot.”

lo and behold, your phone was nestled in his raised hand, looking much smaller than you remembered. or was it that his hand was just that large in comparison? how big was this guy, really? part of you wanted to stop everything and just ask him to hold different objects and compare how they perceived in his grasp. but reality struck and you recall this is the same guy who just scared the living daylights out of you.

you yank it out of his stupid mammoth hand, ripping his grasp on you in the process and take a step back. you were awfully close to one another upon closer inspection.

“not an idiot, by the way. 4.0 gpa doesn’t exactly scream stupid.”

“idiocy applies to everyone, sweetheart. regardless of how much you dick ride your textbooks.”

every word that left his mouth had a lilt to it. the laughter in his eyes, his head cocked to the side.. he was messing with you and relished it. that pissed you off. who the fuck was he to decide who you were? what you stood for? you had barely known this imaginary-but-actually-real brother for a couple hours, and here he was insulting and teasing you all in one gift-wrapped present. what gave him the confidence to be so insufferable? and better yet, what could you do to stomp it out?

“go to hell, sukuna.”

you were unwilling to stay in his irritating presence for a moment more. your face was stony and unrelenting, your foot tapping incessantly in impatience. you wanted to slap his face off, but thankfully for him, your best friends were in dreamland just a few feet away.

“goodnight, idiot.”

your feet padded angrily up the stairs and you could still feel those dark sanguine eyes boring into your skull and all over your body. you decided that imaginary or not, yuuji itadori's older brother was the most pompous asshole you've ever had the displeasure of meeting. you didn’t get hit with your skin radiating heat until you closed the door of yuujii’s bedroom behind you. question is, was it anger or arousal?

... she never told me her name.

omg light banter... guys i really love slowburn so sexy time isn't guaranteed soon :( once i've outlined it i'll add specific explicit warnings and maybe you'll get a glimpse of what i envision for you and sukuna aaaaa :) for tumblr, i'll have a navi/masterlist up in a little!

peace luv bathtub!!!

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[coral-melon]

Tangled Nightmare!

Obey me! Brothers x Curly!MC (reader)

Genre: Crack/shenanigans, Fluff; slightly suggestive?

No pronouns said but probably AFAB

Hopefully isn’t too OOC ._ .🤞

Summary: Your hair is being impossible and you need help detangling your hair. This is for my hella curly hair peeps! Kinda slightly self-indulgent too.. but my other peeps are more than welcome to imagine themselves here!

You’ve been procrastinating over when you felt like washing and do your hair. Under normal circumstances, you do your hair once a week. You kinda skipped it though, saying it didn’t look bad at all — which it wasn’t, why even take the life out of it when it could last a bit longer? It’s been 3 weeks…

Today was the day you were ready to do your hair! Your take out your brushes, washing and styling products. You got everything ready to just be in a happy, productive mood. What could possibly go wrong?

-Dun dun- your hair was impossible! You wash and put plenty of conditioner but your brush just wouldn’t go through! Your arms were tired and your hands were getting cramps; you’ve been at it for a while and tried many things, but nothing! You were on the verge of giving up and going bald, but you go to your last resort, getting another pair of hands and eyes. So you summon your boyfriend!

Lucifer

This man was busy buried in his yet again endless mountains of paperwork. He was so close to just drowning himself in demonus to get by at this point..

But suddenly, he hears your call and the dreadful scene was changed when he was summoned… to the bathroom?

He then sees you, peeking through the shower curtains, bawling your eyes out. He was about to scold you for calling him at such a busy hour, but the thought was kicked right out the window at the sight of seeing your tearful eyes. He keeps his composure though; he needs to understand the situation at hand, after all.

— “My dear, what happens?” He asks as he got closer to you.

— “Lucifer, please help me! I’m on the verge of shaving it all off!” You say after taking a deep breath.

He’s a bit confused at first, but when you reveal the utter mess you had on your head, he understood what you were so frantic about; but at the same time, he was still dumbfounded. He clears throat, and asks you what you need him to do.

You wouldn’t be able to tell that he’s actively stressing on the inside, he’s graceful at everything he does even if he doesn’t have the slightest clue of what he’s doing.

He couldn’t help his mind to.. slightly wonder off. You had sat down on the bathtub with your back facing him, told him how he could pull your hair as much as he wanted.. as long as it detangled the knots, of course!

He had always been infatuated with your curls, but this experience gave him an insight of just how much effort you put into making it look how it always does.

This was also quite satisfying to him, it destressed him to the point where he almost forgot about the work that was still waiting for him at his office.. And for you, it felt like a heavenly massage.. he’ll check you every now to make sure you’re alright.

It took a while, but him being him, everything worked out in the end! Your curls finally softened and ever so defined✨

You thank him profusely, saying that you wouldn’t know what you’d do with yourself it it weren’t for him.

But he simply looked at you with a sinister gentle smile and darkened eyes..

— "I presume that you already know this means that you have a great price to pay for taking up my time, correct..? I suggest you don't keep me waiting for long."

Mammon

Your summon was literally a blessing, he was in a bit of a tight spot with some witches and you saved him in the nick of time!

— “Mammon, you gotta help me!” So I guess it’s only fair he helped you too..

You explain to him what’s going on in a frantic state, would ask you to go to a hair salon, but you starting crying about how expensive that would be. 100% understands and doesn’t question it any farther. So he tries to calm you down, saying he gots this!

— “Ha! Don’cha even worry about it! The great Mammon’s gonna handle this; no problem!✨💪🏽”

His confidence gave you reassurance and put you at ease, you were finally saved! He’d be decent at it, it’s not as unbearable at all and would be soothing to the point of falling soundly asleep.. if he wasn’t so on and off about it!

You’d eventually learn that he just couldn’t help but get distracted by your naked body. Your back facing him, fully exposed to him.. And your hair was just perfect.. ack! Nono! None of that right now! If he could, he’d worship you.

He’d be like: Lord have mercy.. We must stay focused, bothers! We must. Stay focused!

Fell in love with you over and over again every time he passed the brush through you hair. Watching intently how your hair curled so beautifully..

Every now and then, the thought of selling a bit of your hair also came to mind. But quickly gets rid of the idea; you worked how to maintain it, you’d kill him if he chopped it!

Overall, pretty nice and bonding experience. Later thinks about how he wants you to do the same for him.. But he could never admit that out loud!

Feels all high and mighty when you thank him! Of course you should be grateful to him; He took the time out of his busy schedule to help you out and everything! …Kinda forgetting the fact that he would’ve been roasted by witches if it weren’t for you.

— “Hmph, nothin’ I couldn’t handle! Though that’s gonna cost ya a hefty pri—! Oi wait wait! I’m jokin, I’m jokin!… Half joking..”

Leviathan

He was in the middle of choosing a spot to proudly display he’s latest figure collection. But that was soon interrupted when he was summoned to the bathroom.

You call for him as you peek through the shower curtain, motioning him to come closer. He freezes for a moment, until he finally realizes that his in the same room as you while you’re naked.

Proceeds to do that Finn scream*

— “Levi. Levi! Do not freak out, cuz I’m freaking out; and we can’t have two people freaking out! It just doesn’t work. You’re the only one that can help me!” You say, trying to have him not run out on you.

After some back and forth bickering and convincing, you finally managed to get him the courage he needed to help you out!

Don’t look at him though; especially not in the eyes, he’ll simply die.💀

He’s face will be completely red the whole time, you would think he’d pass out at some point… don’t get me wrong, he did — almost. You give him an idea to summon something that’ll splash him with cold water whenever he started to wobble.

In his head, there’s two voices: the one that’s been constantly screaming, and the one that is pretty much worshiping every time he strokes you hair.

Oh, Lemme give you some hope. -Ahem-🎤Don’t be fooled though! This guy does cosplay, therefore knows to do hair. Prove me otherwise!

Knows exactly how to deal with knots without ruining the hair, so at least it wasn’t painful! Your hair is far too sacred for him to mess up!

Once he finishes, there’s a short moment where he feels so proud of himself. But whatever was gripping onto the thin strand keeping his soul together breaks after you gave him a wide smile and thanked him for saving you!

— [ERROR] Levichan.exe does not compute.

Satan

He was getting mad over something, though he himself didn’t know what it was. So he was gonna go destress by flipping Lucifer off but you suddenly summonsed him.

He sensed you were frustrated before he could even see you. So it didn’t come as a surprise when you peeked through while gripping the shower curtains and heated tears in your eyes.

— “What happened, sweetheart?”

— “I’m this close to going apeshit and ripping my hair out.. Please help me!”

Doesn’t know how to handle curly hair, of course. But he’s willing to try. After all, He can’t just leave you like that! Your hair is like a work of art to him, so he wouldn’t want you shaving it off in a pit of rage! You got lucky this time, Lucifer..

Welp, he found a new coping mechanism! This was like a puzzle for him to solve, one that would also make you happy and him quite quite satisfied in the end. That was enough for him to get him going.

He was firm with how he handled you tangled hair, but in a good way. He did his best to not pull too hard and hurt you accidentally.

Keeps it respectful. But~ I do imagine his hands would go through your scalp and gently pulls on the roots of your hair in a very teasing manner. Will play dumb if you ask about it. ((Ever seen that hair pull massage video? Yeah, that))

And/Or, will play with your hair a bit like cats do when they’re massaging their paws onto something soft.

All in all, you’ll feel like you’ve ascended into a new level of lightheadedness with how at ease you head feel. Whatever headache you had a moment ago is long gone!

He comes to appreciate your hair a lot more after this; he’s a blond with short straight hair, so he didn’t fully grasp just how much work it actually is to maintain you hair.. See? A work of art!

He’s already thinking of the next time he could do this. Like I said before, this was his new coping mechanism and I don’t think you can’t do anything about it once he made up his mind.

— “You should let me do this again the next time you wash your hair, it was a very pleasing experience..”

Asmodeous

While in the middle of choosing what perfume and lipstick to where to the day, he could already sense beauty troubles before you could even think about summoning him.

When your call beckons him to come, he is ready. You peek through the curtains with tearful eyes, too embarrassed to really want to show him the mess that happened but not really having a choice at this point.

— “Love, Don’t even say a word! Asmo’s here to help~♡”

Gets immediately to work! He already had his hair products ready. You would think it’s kinda unnecessary to have as many products as he had on hand, but why even question it?

And ooh, how flawless he was.. You felt like you were at a spa with how at ease you felt. You could hear him cry out every now and then, saying how awfully tangled your hair was. But not once did you feel any pain.

But when he isn’t crying, he talks to you like hairstylists do at a hair salon. He tells you about some gossip he heard at Majolish and some products he’s planning on sharing with you. He asks you some questions and all in all, have a good time together. It’s honestly very fun!

By the end of it all, you’ve never felt more replenished. Your curls look the liveliest they’ve ever been, and you hadn’t even added your hair products or defused it!

He finished way quicker than what you would’ve taken. You probably still would’ve been only have way after all this time.

He’ll be fawning over you and saying how obsessed he is about your curls. ..but might start getting touchy since he hadn’t during that whole time. Which is kinda surprising he lasted this long.

— “Why don’t we go straight to my room? I’d love to try some hairstyles and new products on you!… Oh, no need to put clothes on, hon~ ;)”

Beelzebub

He was in the middle of doing some warmups before starting his regular workout routines. So imagine his surprise when he suddenly ends up in the bathroom.

But what surprised him even more was you peeking through the shower curtain, barely being able to hold your tears of frustration. Though you can’t stay feeling that way for long when you have a big fella worrying and asking you what’s wrong.

— “I need another pair of hands and eyes.. Could you help me out?” You say and laugh sheepishly.

— “Y-Yeah, sure! Just tell me what do to..”

The last thing he expected was to do your hair and has no experience whatsoever. But he’s washed and bushed Belphie’s hair before, so how hard can it be?

You two really need to stop underestimating the situation.💀👍

Has no idea what he’s doing but he will be so gentle! He also apologizes softly every time he pulls and brushes your hair, which is quite often.

His hands went through your hair so nicely, massaging your scalp and often playing with your hair. Your hair is so pretty..! So pretty.. it looks good… very good..

— “Beel, do not eat my hair!”

— “Oh, right. Sorry..”

But, I mean come on! Based on his logic, Your hair looks and feels so good.. it even smells amazing! So why wouldn’t it taste good too? It’s very tempting👀✨ if you want a speedy haircut, he’s your guy!

Very good at following directions, and appreciates that you tell him to divide your hair into sections to that it’s easier for him to detangle the knots. He makes sure to ask if it hurts or if you’re doing alright.

Also very respectful! Keeps his eyes where he should be putting them, doesn’t touch you where he shouldn’t and doesn’t make the situation weird; he would never want to make you feel uncomfortable. Though you can see that there’s a soft hint of blush decorating his cheeks..

This ends up being the most unique workout for him, one that required a hella amount of delicacy and patience. And self control.

You thank him for helping you out, joking about how you would’ve just shaved it all off if you couldn’t do it. He’s just happy that your happy.

*Growl..* “Oh, I’m starving now. I’ll head toward the kitchen so come join me when you’re done, okay?”

Belphegor

Obviously sleeping in some who knows where corner in the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Your summon kinda saves him from that.

This guy was dumbfounded when you asked him to help you with your hair. Like, don’t you know him?? He hasn’t even brushed his own hair this week, you think he can handle your hair?!

— “Belphie, Please! I can’t just ask someone else!”

— “Go to the hair salon or something!”

— “Don’t you know how expensive that is?? They’ll charge me a shit ton!”

He can’t refuse you when you’re this distressed about what’s going on. So he’ll reluctantly agree to help you, but doesn’t promise to do a good job. Will ask again if you’re sure you want him to help you; ..oh well, your decision.

Decides that the best course of action..! Is to look it up in DevilTube. Ain’t no way this mans knows what he’s doing.

There’s a 75% chance you’ll end up worse than when how you started. His movements are so stiff, and awkward, way too rough for your scalp, and all in all, just ass.

Will sarcastically tell you to just leave it like that, it’ll work fine as a pillow. That, of course, is not an option.

He’ll also play with your hair, making a bubble tower; and if possible? Make shapes with your hair. I’m telling you, your hair will get a lot worse with him ;—;

But lo and behold, if a miracle happens and somehow managed to detangle it? You’ll never skip a week of your hair routine. This horrible learning experience taught you that routines are very important or else all hell will break lose.

He never exercise, so imagine how how numb and exhausted his arms will feel after this?? Got to learn where you get most of your strength from even if you don’t look strong.. will want to make you just as exhausted as he feel. Do with that information what you will.

Moral of the story, don’t ask Belphie to help you. You’re better off doing it yourself!👍

— *huff, huff* “Your hair must be one of hell’s miserable wonders.. *Pant* You owe me a long cuddle session after this..!”

End

My magic wouldn’t work on Belphie’s dialogue.. ;-;

But Oh god, I had so much fun with this! I could stop laughing at some of them when I kept imagining them in my head. So I hope you too also had a good laugh when reading this! ^^⸝⸝

[erinwantstowrite]

Would you ever... create like... LOF au oneshots....? Like, one chapter lengths stuff for things that you were thinking of putting in but didn't, or doing like a "Peter if he was younger, meeting the bats" or "what if Bruce was his dad, not Dink?"

i have been collecting scenes that ended up not being in LoF... Like, some scenes that were in a different POV before they got changed (there's a Tim POV that got scrapped and ended up as Peter's instead, this is the hardware store scene), scenes that ended up not being in it at all (Peter and Dick were going to have dinner with Donna, but it wasn't coming out right when I tried writing it) etc.

I do like the idea of doing drabbles for LoF like I do for Home too, or maybe even writing someone else's POV of a scene that I did put in LoF, or writing things that the others were doing on certain days, etc.

though there are some things that i might end up putting in a different au instead of scrapping it all together. like this scene:

[ Peter is holding a fridge. Somehow, this is both a cause for alarm and also not at all what the problem really is.

See, Peter woke up this morning with the goal of going around and logging Gotham’s map so he could input it into the Jumping Radar. Peter really wants to avoid going back to the library, and doesn’t feel like testing his chances at a new library just yet. However, that plan ended up on the back burner sooner rather than later.

There’s this little old lady on Bourbank Avenue, a little close to Benny’s, that Peter says hello to when he sees. Her name is Margerie, and usually outside tending to her rickety garden. “Poison Ivy is more gentle with people who care about the plants.” She had told him, and taught Peter her ways of tending to beans, beets, carrots, and spinach.

Well, Peter said hello to her today. Stopped by to chat while she taught him about how to tell when a tomato is at its best. And that’s when he heard about her fridge.

“I’ve had it so long, it’s no wonder it gave out on me,” She had said.

“How long has it been?”

“Well, Benji was still alive…”

“Who?”

“My son.” Margerie had smiled. “He was the one who’d remember that kind of thing.”

And, well, jeez. Peter’s not a monster. He went looking for a damn fridge.

However, he didn’t have the money for a fridge. So what he could do was find where Margerie’s hired worker dumped the fridge, fix it, and find some way to bring it back without anyone noticing he’s a skinny 14 year old who shouldn’t be able to do that. This endeavour led him all the way to a dumpster, where it turns out he can’t save the fridge after all.

But there was an appliance store in the Diamond District that Peter had passed by. And wouldn’t you know it, he found a fridge outside in their dumpster that was able to be salvaged. It’s perfectly clean, too, just sitting there brand new and with a faulty ice box that no one wanted to work around.

So.

Peter is holding a fridge.

That’s somehow both a cause for alarm, and not the problem.

Cause of alarm- he dropped it on his foot when a group of people ran behind the appliance store, and he almost shrieked in pain and alerted them that he was behind the now dropped fridge. He heard the crack in his foot and felt it and prayed, but no- broken.

Peter pushes the fridge off of his foot, yanks the broken thing back, and gently drops the fridge back into place. He’s far enough against a chain link fence to be hidden very well, thankfully, and none of the people who ran back here had seen him. (Yet?) He presses his back against the chain link, biting his lip and pressing his thumb on the injury. It’s not that bad, he can already feel the healing itch. But it’s enough that with only a couple meals in him, that it’ll take longer than Peter would like for it to get back to normal.

“Fuck! Scatter! Why’re y’followin’ me, y’idiots!?”

The real problem: not the broken foot.

“This was tha only place ta run!” Another shouts back. “Fuck! This is bad!”

“No shit! Y’fuckin’ moron- y’led a Bat right to us!” A third hisses.

Peter peeks around the fridge in time to see the third guy grabbing the second by the collar, slamming him up against a wall with a thud.

hello! hey, watch? look it look it look it

Whatever scuffle was about to happen is quieted. Peter glances upwards, but he doesn’t see what he knows is there, in plain daylight. There’s a presence on the roof of the appliance store, but where? Peter should be able to see them, but…

there there there!

He doesn’t get to focus on the presence that’s there. Instead, his eyes are starting to adjust to the fact that- hold on-

Peter glances up. Gotham is usually cloudy and grey, but… there’s nothing blocking that light of a stormy early morning. And yet, everything in the area is growing darker and darker. Peter’s skin crawls, a tingle that settles down his spine and tries to make up for the increasing lack of light. The group of teens start to panic, looking for a way out that isn’t possible in this dead end.

Darkness encompasses the area. Peter takes short, silent breaths. His ears twitch with every movement from the teens, every whisper of panic. Their heartbeats are erratic, and it’s like they already know which Bat this is. There’s seven heartbeats, panicked, trying to escape…

And one that is calm. There’s a breath and the scuffle of a foot from the rooftop.

Peter closes his eyes even though it’s already dark. His spider-sense is making up for what he can’t see, a mental map of the area created in his head. He feels the air move around him, and listens as the Bat takes each of them out one by one.

The thuds of one companion freak out another. “Scotty?”

But then he’s out too. Peter hears two more meet the same fate, knocked out cold on the concrete. He opens his eyes as the Bat approaches the last of them, just in time for the shadows to recede back to where they should be.

Signal stands over the last, now unconscious guy.

The Bat hasn’t broken a sweat. He almost looks bored when he starts ziptieing the gang, complaining aloud, “Y’all couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to cause trouble?”

Whoa.

Peter had seen Signal doing his thing a couple times when he was out and about, but never this up close. That…

That was fucking awesome.

He heard the guy was a meta, and he didn’t know what to believe about that, but seriously? That was like some Shadow-jutsu shit- wait, could he do that? No, wait, because now Peter can see Signal again. He was fucking invisible! And he’s acting like it was nothing! ]

I really really really really really wanted this scene, but it never made it past the rough draft :( that's because it didn't make sense with the rest of the chapter (i can not remember which chapter it was for, but it was definitely before Two Face). I've been thinking about putting it in a deleted scenes for LoF fic, but I think I might take it and put it in a different au.

(The only consolation I have for this scene not making it in is that Signal gets to have a cool scene later)

[semperama]

hiii, for the ask game, i would love nr 7 (i dreamt about you last night) for buddie! ✨️

This is probably not what you had in mind when you sent this prompt, and I'm sorry!! It got a little angsty on me. Also long.

“I dreamt about you last night.”

----

Buck wakes up to sheets soaked with sweat, a scream halfway out of his mouth. His ears are still ringing with gunfire, sirens. His heart is pounding, his lungs pulling desperately at the air. He paws at his face, his neck, looks at his hands in the semi-dark and expects them to be stained black with blood.

But it’s just clean skin. He’s alone in his bedroom, legs tangled in the blankets, no copper taste on his tongue.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

The fourth time he’s had the same dream in as many nights.

He throws back the covers and gets out of bed, goes into the bathroom where he turns on the light and splashes water on his face, like that might wash it all the way. They always do it in the movies, the water trick. He wonders if it ever works for them. It doesn’t work for him.

Even when he’s awake, he sees it. The blank expression on Eddie’s face. The pool of blood spreading across the asphalt. The way Eddie’s hand moved. He reached for Buck like Buck could save him, and Buck tried, but it doesn’t feel like it was enough. Even though Eddie’s alive—it was because the bullet missed vital organs, and because the surgeons knew what they were doing. But if he’d been hit a couple inches to the left…Buck couldn’t have done anything. Eddie might still have reached for him, but all he would have been able to do was watch him die.

“Fuck,” he mutters, then splashes himself with another handful of cold water. He can’t—won’t—go back to bed, so he shuts off the faucet and goes downstairs, curls up on the couch and turns the TV on.

He should nod off again. He’s tired enough to. But he knows by now what will happen if he does, the worst moment of his life in technicolor, surround sound. So he stays awake, until the gray light of dawn crowds out the darkness beyond his windows.

———

The nightmares didn’t start until Buck went home. The nights he slept on the Diaz couch were quiet and dreamless, either because he was too exhausted or too numb. He went to work, did the necessary chores, helped Christopher with his homework and cooked him dinner. His body ran on autopilot and his mind stayed blissfully blank, and at night he dropped off to sleep like someone pulled his plug.

But it’s been almost a week since Eddie got home, five days since he sent Buck back to the loft. You’ll kill your back sleeping on that couch much longer. I’ll call you if you need you. Buck hasn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep in a night since.

“You look like shit,” Chim says when Buck clomps up the stairs for breakfast at the start of their next shift. And Buck knows it’s the truth. He saw himself in the mirror this morning. His eyes are bloodshot, and the circles under them have darkened into a bruised shade of purple. His hands have been shaking so much, he keeps them stuffed into his pockets or curled around something—the strap of his bag, a coffee mug.

Bobby’s busy chopping a handful of chives, but when he looks up, Buck knows immediately what he’s going to say.

“Go home, Buck,” Bobby says. “You know you’re no use to us like this.”

What the fuck am I going to do at home? Buck wants to ask—but he also knows Bobby’s right. In his current state, he’d end up jamming the Jaws into his own leg, or throw himself off the side of a building before clipping in.

Maybe neither would be so bad, though. Maybe a different kind of pain would be a relief.

Regardless, he can’t go home. He sits inside the Jeep in the parking lot for almost ten minutes, hands curled around the steering wheel, wondering if a nap here would end up the same way. Then, he starts up the engine and drives to Eddie’s.

It takes a while for Eddie to get to the door, and Buck realizes too late he’s probably sleeping. It’s early, and the painkillers always make him tired, and Buck should have just—let him sleep. Someone should be getting some sleep.

“Why didn’t you just come in?” Eddie asks when he sees it’s Buck on his doorstep. He looks—soft. His hair is sleep-rumpled. He’s not wearing a shirt, his sling strapped across his bare chest, and soft black sweatpants sit low on his hips. Buck wants to lean in and bury his face into the place where his shoulder meets his neck.

“Not sure,” Buck says honestly. His brain isn’t working right, probably. How could it, when it’s wrapped in three layers of cotton?

Eddie steps back to let him in, a furrow forming in his brow. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he says. “And why do you look like—is everything okay?”

Buck shuffles in just enough for Eddie to shut the door behind him. “I had a dream about you,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor. He feels like a child, showing up in his parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night to cry about the monsters in his closet. Or—it’s how he imagines it must feel. His own parents certainly weren’t interested in protecting him from the things that go bump in the night.

“A dream?” Eddie repeats. He takes a step forward, puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder, and ducks his head to meet his eyes.

“More than one, actually.” Buck doesn’t want to look at him, but he knows he won’t stand for it. “Every night.” His voice cracks. “The sniper.”

“Buck.” Eddie’s hand tightens on him, grips hard enough to hurt. It’s good. Grounding. Buck wants to beg him to leave a bruise. “Why didn’t you say something?

“You’re the one who got shot,” Buck says. “What right do I have to even—”

“No, hey.” Eddie moves in closer, his hand kneading Buck’s shoulder, only a few inches of space between them now. “For me, it was just…pain, and-and your face, and then black. For you…I’ve been in your shoes before, too. I know how scary it can be.”

Buck wants to reach for him, but there’s no safe place to put his hands—the soft skin of Eddie’s waist, the pillow crease that slashes across the side of his face. “I almost didn’t save you.” Finally, Buck touches Eddie’s elbow, just gently, with the tips of his fingers. “I froze, Eddie.” His breath hitches. He can feel his face start to crumple. “I almost didn’t—”

“Oh, Buck.” Eddie yanks him in, guides Buck’s forehead to that spot Buck wanted to nestle into moments ago, holds him close. It’s awkward with Eddie’s bum arm smushed between them, his knuckles digging into Buck’s stomach, but it’s also perfect, because Eddie is warm and alive, his heart beating and blood rushing through his veins and lungs expanding, his breath ruffling Buck’s hair. “I’m here,” he murmurs, his fingers scratching into the hair at the back of Buck’s head. “I’m fine. You did save me, okay? I’m right here.”

Buck cries. For how long, he doesn’t know. Shaky sobs into Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s skin going slick under his cheek. His arms curl around Eddie’s waist, and his fingers dig in, clinging. Eddie almost died, but he didn’t die. He’s here, and he’s solid, and he’s real. Buck doesn’t ever want to let go of him again.

“Here, why don’t we…” Eddie says after some indeterminate amount of time, shifting to wrap his arm around Buck’s shoulders and tug. “Come on. Come lay down with me. You need sleep.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, a strangled sound. He lifts his head enough to walk under his own power, but he won’t stop touching Eddie, one arm still wound around him, their hips brushing all the way down the hall.

In the bedroom, he makes himself let go of Eddie long enough that Eddie can rearrange himself in bed, get into a position that’s comfortable for his shoulder. Buck climbs in carefully, but as soon as he starts to settle, Eddie pulls him closer, manhandles him so his face is tucked against Eddie’s neck again, that spot starting to feel like it was made just for him, two puzzle pieces fitting together.

“Sleep,” Eddie says, and soon, Buck does.

He falls into dreams of Eddie, but this time it’s different—not the sniper, not any other disaster. He dreams of Eddie and Chris at the zoo, gilded with sunlight. He dreams of Eddie grinning up at him during a rope rescue. He dreams of warm skin, warm breath, strong fingers pressing bruises into his hips.

He sleeps, and he dreams of Eddie.

[sminiac]

hi it's me again 😜😜 since you've seen the bnd insanity on my blog i was curious abt yours,, what are some random hcs u have for them (could be any of them or all of them,, whatever u wanna share im listening 👂🏾)

(also ur name is so pretty <3)

- lunicho

Warnings — Smut focused, MDNI.

Note — My beloved bunny!!!! Thank you sm, literally making me smile so much, I’m sorry this took a little longer than expected, I wanted to catch up on content since it’s been a while and wanted a refresh on the boys :,) BUT THIS ONES FOR YOU !!!!

⋆ P. Sungho

He’s such a service dom to me, but he isn’t completely nasty, though if you requested it he could switch up quite easily and become a little rougher with you, a little more mean with his mouth. Literally whatever makes you feel good, whatever has you cumming around his dick quicker he’s more than down. I also think he’d have a thing for fucking you in unconventional places, situations- holding you up, keeping you steady as he whispers praises to you for being so compliant with him that are so quiet it doesn’t even catch at the surrounding air. He likes putting in the work to keep your pleasure flowing, the atmosphere alive, undisturbed. His kisses are messy, even when it’s just a quick goodbye he still manages to slip his tongue into your mouth and he isn’t satisfied until at least your hair or his clothes are left in a disheveled state, sometimes he can’t help but slip his fingers under the waistband of your bottoms, his two fingers curling into your cunt and sinking smoothly inside of you, only giving you a few pumps before he’s tearing himself away and hurrying out the door. (I’m unwell.)

Remainder of members under the cut!

⋆ L. Riwoo

Can I just say that Blonde Riwoo reminded me so much of Blonde Mingi :b ANYWAYS, GIRL. HIS NOSE???? Goes out of his way to purposely drag the tip of it against your clit when he’s eating you out, keeps his eyes open and focussed on you almost the whole time too, makes sure you see the way his tongue drags up in tandem. I can only THINK of him having an oral fixation, loves your tongue, loves sticking his fingers in your mouth and keeping them there when you’re riding him, but also when your fingers are in his mouth, prodding the back of his throat when you’re fucking him dumb, gets really messy because he’s so far gone. Lots and lots of eye contact!! wants to see every nuance of your expressions in the ways he pleasures you, gets hard in public a little too quickly when you make a sudden sound or face when you’re eating something good because it reminds him of the same characteristics you have in bed.

⋆ M. Jaehyun

I literally wrote something similar to this but very halfassed, saved it as a draft and then deleted it but… Jaehyun’s the type to have an older s/o, like he just needs to be taken care of it makes me unwell. Whether it’s minor domestic acts of service or sex, he just wants you, needs you. Always has his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you against his chest, face buried in your neck. I’M SICK. The type to prefer your natural scent over perfume because it’s something that keeps him grounded when it becomes hard to speak, his nerves jumping up his throat before a performance, sweet thing just wants to be held. The same with when he’s asking of you to help release some of his stress in a more… intimate way. Wants to be sat cozy between your legs while you play with his cock, wants to be called pretty, told that you have faith in him to make the best of his time on stage. Whimpers “Love you- I love you so much.” repeatedly when he’s close because he’s just so full of your love that it spills out from between his pretty lips without the mental effort.

⋆ H. Taesan

I know that quite a lot of people perceive Taesan as a dom leaning person, but I think he’d love- like love to be at your will, knowingly plays himself into the palm of your hand because he finds himself frequently craving the feeling of overstimulation paired with your sweet, encouraging words that drives him to tears. And not just the few clumps of squeezed out tears kind, but to the point where you have him a full on sobbing wreck. Loves when you ride him because the sweet boy doesn’t have to do a thing except lay there and remain open for you to use, likes when you make him say humiliating things, when you roughly grab at his jaw when he denies you with a bashful shake of his head, cheeks red and hot. Likes starting things in public because he’s never the one to finish it, changing rooms are a bad idea when the two of you are out shopping together, because he becomes a little too touchy when you’re trying stuff on and then has to be shut up with his head stuffed between your thighs. I’d love to say pillow princess vibes, but he’d be wayyyy too desperate for you to hold himself back.

⋆ K. Leehan

I feel like with Leehan dirty talk is something that’s kept to a minimum, like you have to beg for him to talk to you whilst he’s got his fingers teasing you, waiting to hear more, hanging at his every word. The horrible, gut wrenching thing about it though is that he’s so good with his words. I’ve noticed that his voice has a lot of bass to it compared to the other members, like if you put your hand to his chest you’d feel the vibrations of it rattling through his bones, he knows how bad you crave to hear him, that’s why there’s always a little smile on his face when your voice starts becoming airy from the impatience wearing you thin, purposely shifting around under him to show how bad you need it to get off. Hearing him lip nasty words into your ear is the equivalent of his thumb reaching up to run circles into your clit while his two fingers pump expertly into your cunt at a pace that has you struggling to keep your eyes open, he knows it, but he won’t so easily give in because the way you paw at him, say his name, the sight of you, your body, your face, all of it makes him so incredibly hard.

[makeadealwithme]

Not Like This

Summary: Steve's surprised when you try to kiss him at a party, and he scrambles to tell you how he really feels.

Author's note: took some inspo from New Girl (iykyk), slightly angsty with a sweet ending. Can you tell I love friends-to-lovers?

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking/party, love confessions. use of y/n, she/her pronouns.

Word Count: ~6.1k Thank you all <3 ___________________________________________________

You and Steve are sitting outside on the curb, a little bit away from the noise and chatter of the party, splitting a cigarette between the two of you with knees pressed against each other. You lean your head onto his shoulder, it feeling too heavy to hold up any longer. "Shit Steve, I don't think this is helping me sober up," you complain, fully aware that you drank a little too much tonight and that it was going to take a lot more than a cigarette to clear your head.  

Steve chuckles, shoulder shaking underneath you while he tosses the butt to the side. “Just how many drinks have you had huh?” He pokes an elbow into your side in jest.  

“Not as many as you, Harrington.” You retort. You hear him scoff above you. 

“Yeah, but you’re a lightweight, so it’s like...double as bad or some shit.”  

It was your turn to scoff back. “Hey! You were the one who said a party would cheer me up.” You start doing a mock impression of Steve from earlier - “Come out with me y/n, blow off some steam, it’ll be fun I promise you.” 

“Hm, did I say that? Doesn’t sound like me,” he responds sarcastically before taking a breath. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a shit day," he said turning into you a little bit more, temple resting on the top of your head, voice going soft. "Ready to tell me about it?" He knows that now is the right time to ask, when your defenses are down and when your lips are a little loose.  

It practically spills out of you as you proceed to tell him about the shitty customers at work, how your coworkers were all out so it was understaffed, how Robin ditched your lunch plans and didn’t answer when you called her, quickly skating over the fact that when you called Steve too it also went to voicemail. You tell him that when you went home, your dinner was cold and half eaten on the counter with a note left by your brother that he was sorry but he was just so hungry and had no time to get his own food and he just couldn't save it for you. To top it off, Jackson Peters rejected you about two hours ago, and proceeded to make out with another girl over on the couch, even though he swore he wanted to take you out next week. You kept rambling, talking about how you felt alone, you felt pretty unloved, and now you were at a party full of people who barely acknowledged you so you decided to drink it away (per Steve’s suggestion, you remind him), which lead to you sitting on the curb outside with him (which you thank him for) and you tell him you'll be over it by tomorrow but if you could both just sit there a little longer that would be much appreciated. Steve stays silent for a moment, unsure if you were finished talking or planning to continue, but once he's sure he wraps his arm around your back, pulling and shifting your body into him, your legs half coming over his, and he just hugs you. You feel his hands glide over your back, warming you gently.  

"I'm sorry about today. I'm sorry the party didn't help. I'm sorry I didn't pick up when you called..." he trails off and you feel him take in a deep breath, you do the same, albeit yours a little shakier "I swear I'm always here for you, I want to be, I swear." 

 "It's ok Steve. You are. It was just a lot today, I’m fine, really," you breathe out, trying to add a little laugh to your voice. He nods and you feel his hands go to rest on your shoulders. 

“Ok but seriously, you’re upset about Jackson Peters? Haven’t we been over this before - you could do so much better; you know that right?” Steve’s voice sounds pitched but he follows it with a cheeky grin and laugh that causes your chest to swell.  

“Ugh Steve c’mon that’s not true,” you couldn’t stop it from coming out whiny, a small giggle escaping along with it.  

“It totally is true! The kid failed his driver's test three times y/n, did you know that?” 

“What! No way, Steve, you’re being mean” you tease him.  

“I’m just telling the truth y/n! I'm never letting you get you get in car with him.” 

“That would’ve been years ago!” 

“I don’t even know how you do that, even Max can drive better.”  

You turn to look him in the eye, an incredulous look on your face.  

“...Three times?”  

“Three times.” 

You think for a moment, Steve swears he can hear the cogs turning in your head. “Alright... I guess I’m not too upset about that then.”  

“That's my girl!” Steve beams. As he says it, he goes to tickle your sides, causing you to squeal and squirm in his arms. Both of you erupt into drunken laughter, so much so your eyes are watering. You mutter 'unbelievable’ to him, with an extra playful hit to Steve’s chest for good measure as you both settle back down. You’re closer than before, almost in his lap, with his head resting on top of yours and arms wrapping around you. The closeness, the warmth, the comfort, is going straight to your head and making it feel fuzzy. You know your inhibitions were lowered, judgement a little off, but you just couldn't help it as you turned your head upward, eyes on his neck. You press a gentle kiss to the bottom of his throat, pausing for a second. He doesn't turn away. It emboldens you as you move higher and press another one to his neck, this time a bit firmer, more noticeable. Feeling courageous, you let your lips trail up to his jaw and you tentatively place one there. You're surprised again when he still doesn't move. You two have never kissed before, not like this, nothing more than a kiss of the cheek goodbye as friends would. You don't dare open your eyes as you bring your hand to the other side of his face, lightly pushing his chin towards you as you kiss along his jaw, nearing so close to his lips. You never look at him but you swear you can hear him sigh a little in your ear, throat swallowing roughly, jaw opening slightly. You shift your body into him as you place a final kiss near the side of his chin before you feel him grip your hips and abruptly push you off him, firm but kind, and he quickly leaps up off the curb. You're struck by surprise, brain still working a little slow and your hands still held like they were on him. However, the realization hits you like a wave as your eyes widen in shock and words start tumbling out of your mouth "oh...fuck, shit, oh my god Steve... I - " 

 Steve looks just as panicked as you and starts spewing words out at the same time, reaching out to you. "No, no! Oh my god, shit it's fine I'm not upset or anything I just can't, I'm sorry... I just - " you stand up, the humiliation burning, all you want to do is run away from him.  

"Steve I'm so sorry I didn't mean to... I just... I just – shit! I'm sorry I'll go, I'll go," you say, pushing past him and walking back towards the house. Steve follows after you for a few steps, his long legs quickly catching up to you as he clutches your arm and turns you to look at him  

"No y/n you don't have to go, please. I didn't mean to push you off like that, I liked it – fuck! -I mean, I just meant..." 

 "No Steve stop. I swear I didn't mean to cross a line."  

"N- no you didn't, I want to, I do, just not like this - I won't let it - it can't happen like this." He's weaving around you trying to look you in the eye and make you hear him, but you’re already turned away and wrenching your arm from his grip, rushing to the house to disappear and be swallowed by people. You feel hot in the face as a dose of shame and embarrassment come over your body "god I'm so stupid oh my god" you chant to yourself in your head, how could you let your feelings come to the surface like that? Steve was your best friend, your best fucking friend, and now you've gone and screwed it all up.  

 As you make your way back into the party you head straight for the drinks, picking up whatever shooter was left over and downing it. You snag a can of beer in your hand too, thinking it might prolong a buzz to stave off the guilt. You quickly glance around the party, looking for Robin or Nancy or anyone else that you knew, but your eyes fixated on the tuft of long brown hair peeking through the crowd frantically making its way closer to you. "Shit" you mutter, you can't face him yet, and you quickly turn and make your way out the back door, through the garden, to the side gate and slipping through before anyone noticed. Your pace is fast as you make your way down the alley, out on to the street and you start in the direction towards your house, knowing you'll have to walk fast if you plan on making it home anytime soon. You're thankful the night wasn't chilly, you're thankful Hawkins was (generally) safe and quiet, and you stuck to the shadows of the main roads hoping that Steve wouldn’t pull up behind you. The entire walk home images flashed in your head of Steve, you felt his warm neck against your lips, his strong hands on your back, the coldness when he separated you. You shudder in shame. You couldn't help but feel some tears prick in your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. It was frustrating, the way your thoughts seemed to drag through your mind. You settle for woefully drinking the stolen beer as you kept walking home, hoping it would put out the burn in your gut.   

It wasn't much later after you got to your house that Steve drove down your street, sober and stressed about you. He spent the whole drive home searching the sidewalks, hoping you weren't still walking, hoping you were safe. He felt so stupid for pushing you off - he admits to himself he almost didn't. Your lips felt like hot fire against his neck, he swore he could still feel the lingering heat. He never expected this from you, thinking you were content with your friendship. So, he never made a move even though he knew he wanted to - he certainly planned it out in his head all the time. He felt like a teenager daydreaming about his first crush. He thought about sweeping you off your feet, some simple but meaningful declaration of love on his lips, he thought about you saying it back too. It didn’t matter where to him - on his front porch, your backyard, the front seat of his car, or on your couch late at night after a movie – it just mattered that it was you and that it was a place you both shared. He certainly didn't envision it happening on curb, you a little too drunk and pissed off after a bad day, and him, not quite with it himself outside of a stranger's house, cigarette smoke on his breath and a waft of some other girl’s perfume on his clothes from earlier in the night. He never saw it like that, and it caught him off guard. The guilt bubbled in him, he never wanted to upset you.   

As he neared your house, he peered out his car window and saw the light in your bedroom and the singular shadow moving through the curtain. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, just glad that you made it home ok. He sits for a moment, debating if he should go up to the door. In the midst of his battle, he sees the light flicker off. His lips purse together, slightly cursing himself for being a coward as he starts to quietly roll down your street, time for him to go home as well. I'll talk to her tomorrow, he thinks to himself, he sees you every day anyways.  

The next morning.  

It's early. Maybe a little too early after last night when Steve rings your doorbell, nervously mussing with his hair. To be honest, he probably should've thought more about what he was going to say but it didn't matter, he just knew he had to see you. Maybe take you out for breakfast and help cure the hangover he was sure you had. He stands there expectantly but his face falls to a frown after about a minute passes, so he rings the doorbell again. He listens intently, not hearing any movement. Checking his watch, he silently curses to himself for being an early riser (he knew you weren't) and waits another minute. There’s a fleeting thought that you might be avoiding him, but he runs it off with the hope that you’re just sleeping. Debating whether to ring the bell one more time, his watch catches his eye again. Maybe he should wait an hour? His brain was having a hard time being logical, only driven by wanting to see you. He stood at your door and convinced himself that maybe breakfast after a night out probably wasn't such a good idea, and that he probably should let you sleep, and that you'll probably come visit him at work later (like you always do) and maybe you two can grab dinner after or something. Yeah, sounds like a plan, he thinks. So, he leaves, drives off, and tries to push out the gnawing feeling in his stomach that something feels off "probably just the hangover” he mutters.   

It's the afternoon as Steve and Robin putter about the video store, putting away movies and recounting the stories from last night. "Steve, where were you? I was totally making a fool of myself right in front of Vickie, I told you I couldn't be left alone at parties." Robin groans, sticking her head around one of the shelves she was stacking. 

"Uh yeah sorry, must've been outside with y/n, needed to sober up," his apology was flat, his mind still caught somewhere else. Robin stops for a minute, choosing her next words carefully. 

 "You two were alone?"  

“Mhm” Steve nods his head, eyes avoiding Robin’s.  

“And...did anything happen?” 

"What? No! ...No" 

 "You sure about that? You’re sounding pretty defensive Stevie" 

“Jesus Robs what’s with the interrogation huh?” He turns to fiddle with the stapler at the desk. 

“Steve cut it out. You’ve been acting on edge all day, there’s clearly something you’re not telling me.” 

Steve breaks. Honestly - he can't hide anything from Robin. He recounts the whole moment, albeit keeping some of the details a little loose, and how he drove around last night for you, and how he stopped by this morning to see you and there was no answer, and finished by pointing out the fact that you would’ve stopped in by this point in the day and you haven’t yet. “Don’t you think that’s weird? Like, she’s definitely avoiding me, right?”  

Robin takes a second to internally sort out her feelings. Part of her was exploding, because she’s been rooting for the two of you to get together for what felt like forever, and part of her was restraining herself from smacking Steve upside the head for fumbling so hard. She knew you as well, knew how sensitive you could be and knew that yes, you were definitely avoiding him right now.  

“You absolute idiot.” Robin would admit later that no, that probably wasn’t the right choice of words for this exact moment. The smack on the head that she couldn’t stop herself from delivering with it maybe wasn’t the best choice either. 

“Seriously?! What did I do to warrant that?” Steve exclaims. 

“Steve, she made a move on you. That takes a lot of guts alright? You could’ve at least tried to let her down easier.” Steve’s face contorts in confusion at her words but when he goes to speak Robin cuts him off again, “Plus you’ve literally been crushing on her for forever, I thought you wanted this. I don’t get it!” She doesn’t realize how loud her voice is getting.  

“I do Robin! I do! Just not like that, y’know? And I didn’t mean to let her down badly, ok? I didn’t mean to let her down at all. It’s just, well you know how bad I am with words Robin and I was caught off guard. I didn’t think it would happen like that. You get that right?”  

“‘Just not like that.’ Since when did you get so precious about how you kissed girls Steve? She was literally right there on top of you... Are you feeling alright?” Robin lurches forward to Steve, trying to feel his forehead in a half joking, half concerned way. He swats her hand down.  

Robin takes a step back, shit eating grin on her face. “Dude, you’re like...in deep huh?” Robin's eyebrows are practically in her hairline. Steve thinks she looks far too amused for her own good. He groans in frustration practically collapsing on the counter in front of him. Forehead against the cool surface, he grumbles, “what the hell am I going to do.”  

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for Steve. You gotta apologize, and tell her how you feel. In full sentences this time. Don’t let her get the wrong idea again,” Robin tries to soften her tone as best as she could but she’s not sure she achieved it. “Dingus” she mutters as she saunters off to help the customers that walked in. Steve wallows the rest of his shift.  

He drives home in a daze after work, his thoughts a jumbled mess and still reeling from his conversation with Robin. He decides not to stop by your house again, being careful not to bother you too much and make things even more awkward, and tried to call instead. He reaches for his phone in the kitchen, dials your number automatically and waits, leaning against his counter. He hears it ring over and over again. No answer. His frown deepens ever so slightly. Maybe he typed the number wrong? So he tries you again with no luck. He feels a slight ache in his chest, some small upset feeling that sure reminds him of being homesick. 

Pushing the thoughts aside he tries to keep himself busy for the rest of the night until he sleeps, repeating over and over to himself that you were probably just tired, didn’t want to leave the house today, were working late, hanging with some other friends, something, anything to explain your absence. Steve barely slept that night, hearing phantom phone rings in his sleep. This was weird; even in your worst arguments you would still talk to him, still pick up when he called. Any day you didn’t see each other you would both end up saying goodnight over the phone anyways, and he’s reluctant to admit how much he loved it. He loved hearing you wish him goodnight, soft and sweet; he swore he slept better those nights than any others. 

The second day was even worse. 

It's nearing the end of another shift at Family Video and you still haven't shown. Steve can't help but let a frown slowly settle into his face with each passing minute. He would feel that gnawing feeling in his stomach creep in, anxiety filling his mind, as he replays the scene over and over again. Steve was restless all shift and it pissed Robin off, watching him pace around the store, tap his foot while waiting behind the desk. He kept looking at the clock and snapping his head every time the door opened.  

“Steve cut it out, seriously,” Robin whined at him.  

“I can’t Robin, I won’t stop thinking about it. What if she’s really not ok? For Christ’s sake, she won’t even answer the phone.” He’s almost spitting the words at her, sick of having to explain himself over and over.  

“Why don’t you try calling her from here? She might pick up since she knows you're at work?” Robin has been trying to help all morning. First it was helping Steve write a speech (before he tore it all up), then it was running him around the store to burn off energy (he was still agitated afterwards), and now Robin seems to have found a suggestion that might actually stick. 

Steve mulls it over in his head, “why don’t you call? She might talk to you more than me.” Robin wordlessly picks up the phone and dials as Steve recites your phone number to her. There is a tense few moments, Steve pressed up close to Robin’s face listening for the rings of the phone. After about 4 times through he is about to pull away before he hears a faint ‘hello?’ come from the other end. 

“Y/N! Hey, it’s Robin...”    

“Hey Robs, what’s going on, thought you were at work?” Steve was practically suffocating Robin at this point to hear your voice. He couldn’t tell how you sounded through the phone. Robin shot him an annoyed glance and tried to take a step back.  

“Yeah, yeah I am. Just got bored, was wondering if you wanted to stop by? Haven’t seen you in a few days...” Robin keeps her voice light as she shares a look with Steve, he practically freezes in place, holding his breath so to not make a sound.  

“Oh... Right, yeah...” he hears you pause over the line, “listen I'm sorry but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it in... busy today.” You trail off for a second, guilt creeping up in your throat for brushing your friend off. But you knew that if you went to see Robin, you’d also see Steve, and that made your stomach turn with anxiety.  

It was at that point that Steve couldn’t contain himself any longer, snatching the phone out of Robin’s hand and turning away from her as she yelped out a short, “Hey! Give that back Steve!”  

He presses the phone to his ear, half expecting you to have hung up by now before he gives a breathy “Y/N, hey, it’s me, Steve, can we talk?” The question comes out awkward and he mentally curses at himself. It’s silent on the other end before the line clicks and goes dead. He stares at the phone in surprise. “She - She just hung up on me,” he turns to face Robin again, “didn’t even say a word she just hung up!” 

“Ok look,” she grabs Steve by the shoulders, “she’s definitely avoiding you but she didn’t sound too chipper on the phone with me either so like... She's just having a bad day?” Robin really is trying her best to convince him. 

“No no this isn’t like her Robin you know that! God, she’s probably so pissed at me. What if we’re not even friends anymore!” Steve is breaking into a full on panic, hands coming up to roughly drag over his face in agony.  

“Steve, it’s fine, she’s not just going to stop being friends with you. You just have to talk. She probably thinks that you don’t want to be friends with her anymore. Got it?” Robin starts nodding her head, hoping Steve will mirror her and do the same, making him believe it too. She releases his shoulders, turning to start sorting through the stack of videos piled up on the counter. Steve just stares off into space, mind racing about you.  

As soon as the clock hits the hour, he tore out the door, driving straight to your house. He walks a little too hastily to your doorstep, ringing the doorbell rapidly a few times and then knocking the door for good measure. He waited for a minute (ok, 30 seconds) before trying again. He saw the lights on in your house, he knew you were there.  

"Hey listen it's just me, are you in there? I really think we should talk, please?" he called out, desperate, nose buried against the door. No answer still. “I’m not leaving until you answer Y/N, please!” He pleads again, waiting. He paces outside for (actually) 5 minutes, before huffing to himself and starting to walk around the side of your house. He knows your house well, from games of hide and seek as kids to sneaking in and out of it when you were teenagers. He also knows that you’re terrible in remembering to lock the back door. He peeks through the front windows, checking for you before opening the side gate and passing through the backyard. With one last look through the back he goes to turn the back door handle, it giving way and popping open immediately. A gratified huff leaves his chest as he sticks his head in the door, eyes searching the kitchen. “Y/N? Are you here? I’m coming in the back door,” he warns, stepping over the threshold. At that moment he hears rapid footsteps over the top floor and descending the stairs.   

“Steve! What the hell, you can’t just break in to my house!” You yell at him, feet flying fast across the main floor. Your eyes meet and you stop abruptly, leaving your kitchen island between the two of you. He takes you in for the first time since the party, dressed in comfortable sweats and hair loose and messed from your bed’s pillow. He thought the skin around your eyes looked a little red and raw but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t expect his heart to skip a beat at the sight of you.  

“I know I know, but you weren’t answering the door!” He says defensively arms gesturing wildly, “And I’m sick of you avoiding me - and don’t say you aren’t because I know you are.” His voice is more raised than he intended, but he felt like he was bursting at the seams, overwhelmed from not seeing you for days.   

“That doesn’t give you a right to break in Steve! I wasn’t answering the door because I don’t want to see you. I thought I was making that pretty clear.” You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but you still felt awkward around him, the shame causing you to lash out. You were both circling the island as if you were playing a game – him, taking a step closer to you and you taking a step back each time he did.  

“Listen, please, I’m sorry about the other night, I’m not mad at you or anything ok...you know I’m not mad right?” it all comes out more stuttered than Steve intended, but he figured if he didn’t start talking the words might never come out. You cut him off quickly, wanting to end whatever conversation he was trying to force.  

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, seriously. I’m the one who’s sorry ok, I’m so sorry,” you change your direction and start moving towards him, slowly herding him out the kitchen and towards the front door while you keep speaking. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking, I think it was just the end of a bad day and you were there and so close and it was so shitty of me Steve.” He sees the tears welling in your eyes and tries to interrupt you but you carry on, “I had a few drinks in me and wasn’t thinking straight. It’s not an excuse it’s just what happened and my head got all confused. Really, I crossed a line and I’m so sorry Steve.” He noticed you reach around him towards the front doorhandle, he almost goes to stop you but couldn’t find the courage to do it. “I’m just not ready to talk about it ok? I need some space, just to sort my head out a bit, figure out if I can keep being friends with you.” It sounded more mournful than you intended, part of you already believing that your friendship has ended. He watches you take a shaky breath and open the door. He tries to fight you, put up some sort of protest, but the tears in your eyes made him weak. 

“I didn’t want to upset you,” he gets out as your shaking your head at him, crowding him out the doorway. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, you don’t, I- I just couldn’t, but I do -” 

 “Please just go, I’ll talk to you when I’m ready, I promise – just need time to think, please don’t call me anymore,” you cut him off, shutting the door on him and pressing your back against it. Steve stands dumbfounded on your porch, staring at your door as if he could burn holes through it. That could not have gone any worse. In defeat, he trudges back to his car, absentmindedly swinging his keys around his fingers. His drive home was quiet, his head in another world still reeling. The loss of his best friend, and a girl he really loved, it weighed heavier on him by the minute.  

The days passed and Steve didn’t call. He didn’t drive by your house. He would ask Robin about you at work, knowing that she had hung out with you the night before, asked if you said anything about him. Robin would just shake her head, tell him no and not to worry, you were fine. He hated how he felt. He was moody, off balance, like he was going through withdrawal from you. It agitated Robin too, having to see Steve that way.  

It was about a week later when Steve was sat alone at home one night. Rain starting to bucket down, making Hawkins far gloomier than usual. He was eating a poor dinner of cereal and a bag of chips, sitting on the couch and watching a late-night show. He saw the flash of car lights outside his front window before he heard the car pull in, setting his heartbeat a little faster. He makes out the sound of a car door slamming and jumps up from the couch, peeking through the window to see who the late-night visitor could be. He notes your signature yellow raincoat dashing for the cover of his front porch, his eyes going wide as he rushes to open the front door for you.  

It catches you off guard, the warm draft of air from his doorway hitting you while the cold drops of rain slide down your jacket hood and on your face. You turn your head up to him, planting yourself a few feet from the door, just far enough to turn around and run back if you decided you couldn’t be brave. You stare at each other for a second before Steve breaks the silence. “What are you doing here? Come inside it’s bucketing out there,” he moves to turn inside, open his doorway to you more but you stay put. He looks back, taking in your face, contorted with uncertainty. Hell, he thought you almost looked nervous. “Y/N? What’s going on?”  

You fiddle with your jacket sleeves, dropping your gaze to your feet for second before gaining the courage to look up at him again. “Not like this... that’s what you said,” it was practically a mumble. Steve looks at you in confusion, mouth poised to speak again but you repeat yourself, a little louder, little bit braver. “I remember it. You said, ‘it can’t happen like this’, when I tried kissing you...what did you mean by that?” You’re tense, unblinking, staring him down. It’s like you could see the memory play back in his head, a soft oh leaving his lips. He steps outside, slightly closing the gap between you two, hands in his pockets.  

It was his turn to look nervous, pausing to try to get his brain to catch up so he wouldn’t stumble his words again. “I guess I just meant...” he pauses again, taking a frustrated huff at himself, his eyes follow the toe of his sock, tracing in a half circle along the ground.  

You stay patient. You knew Steve only struggled with his words when they were important, when they meant something, when he wanted to get them right. In the past week you had been mulling over the night of the party incessantly, berating yourself for every move. But as you uncovered memories of the night you found one that you couldn’t let go, a picture of Steve, bending down to meet you at eye level, a spew of words coming from his mouth but your ears only catching “it can’t happen like this.” The words stayed ringing in your head for days, and you had enough of it. It drove you crazy enough to speed over to his house late at night, in the pouring rain, skipping the courteous welcome and jumping straight to the point – you had to know what he meant by it.  

Steve starts speaking again, slow at first, “Y/N, I wasn’t expecting it. We were outside a party, tipsy, on a curb, that rotten cigarette between us. Jesus I think I had just shot gunned two beers before taking you outside...” he looks up at you, sees you open your mouth to speak but he quickly cuts you off, “Would you just listen please? It’s not like those things matter that much, we were having have a fun night and I, I -,” you see him take a step closer to you, another huff of frustration and as he tries to get the words together. “I wanted to kiss you. I couldn’t believe that you were kissing me first. But if I was going to kiss you I sure as shit didn’t want it to be a drunken mess. So that’s what I meant. I couldn’t let our first kiss happen like that. I wanted it to be different, I wanted to tell you how I felt, well feel, first. I wanted that kiss to mean something.”  

You stand in shock, head tilted up a little now that Steve had gotten closer. He took in your face, the way your brows were knit in confusion, or was it frustration? Were you just thinking? He couldn’t quite read the expression. But he thought he saw a light click on behind your eyes when it seemed like you caught up to everything he said, a bit of warmth returning to your face as your features relaxed. When you spoke it was soft, gentle. 

 ���So tell me how you feel Steve.”  

Steve had a new found confidence, something only you could give him, as he stepped forward, hands coming to yours, one of them going to your waist as he got close to you. “You’re my best friend y/n, and I think I’m love with you. Wait no, I know I’m in love with you,” he pulls you in close by the waist, looking deep into your eyes waiting for a response. You scan his face, looking for any sign of uncertainty but you can’t find it. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, face close, noses almost touching.  

You give a slight nod and a breathy “yes” before he crashes his lips on to you. He holds you tight, his wide hand pressing against the small of you back as the other cradles the back of your head. You bend backwards, almost collapsing under the weight of the kiss. Your body felt like hot fire, lips melting into each other. You hear a soft whine come from the back of Steve’s throat, or maybe it was yours, as he pulls you upright again. When you break apart for air, he doesn’t let you go, resting his forehead against yours, breathing in sync with you. 

“I meant it should happen something like that.”  

[steddieficrec]

do u have any recs for fics where eddie accidently comes out to steve or steve accidently finds out and eddie panic’s thinking steve is gonna hate him but steve obvs doesnt

This took forever I know! But I wanted to actually make a list and ended up finding new ones that I love and some re-reads. I hope you enjoy it.

Pretty, Pretty Boys by starsdontsleep

(1/1 I 4,097 I Teen)

Steve knows that Eddie is gay, what he doesn't expect is to hear so many details about the guys that the metalhead has hooked up with or is interested in approaching. He also doesn't expect to feel so bothered—so annoyed and uncomfortable about it.

Or, 5 times Steve was unhappy about Eddie being with or talking about another guy. 1 time Eddie was unhappy about Steve doing the same (but didn’t need to be).

Questions & Answers by starsdontsleep

(1/1 I 6,781 I Mature)

Steve doesn’t have a problem with Eddie being gay, but he does have questions which end up leading to practical demonstrations.

smoking guns (hot to the touch) by fivecenturiesverse

(1/1 I 7,590 I Teen)

Sure, they've saved the world, but the best part of that really is that it doesn't end there and in a town where everyone thinks he murdered a girl, he's at least got Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. It's really not his fault he accidentally starts living at Steve's house, he was invited, after all. There's a mystery too, about Barbara Holland and Steve's pool.

“Your boner is digging into me,” says Robin, and Steve snorts a tired sort of laugh. “I don’t have a —” “You do, I can feel it. Gross.” “Okay, but it’s only a little one,” he says in a small voice which sounds like he’s impersonating someone. “Are you ever going to let that go? I peed a little bit when the Russians got the torture devices out, okay?” She sounds amused, though. Eddie jolts. “Russian torture devices?” Robin carries on like she didn’t hear him but Steve catches his eye and he’s grinning. “How do you even have a boner dude? You were definitely having a nightmare I know your twitching means a nightmare… Did you have a boner over Vecna?”

Dirty Words by morningberries

(1/1 I 10,207 I Explicit)

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

OR

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to stretch it beyond his crotch where he is most definitely about to tent his pants. Maybe if he wore boxers it would have been easier to conceal. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“It’s okay. It just means we’re doing good, right?” Steve slides his hips forward, making his sweats tighten against the bulge between his own legs.

Eddie lets his eyes linger there for longer than he should. There’s no way that Steve is getting turned on by all of this, but shit, he is. The proof is in the pudding—if the pudding is his dick that is suspiciously growing under the heather grey fabric.

Turn Your Back on Mother Nature by gr0gu

(4/4 I 16,996 I Teen)

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Steve was supposed to work with Robin at the Family Video, flirt with the many many girls who came to browse the expansive selection of VHSes, go on some dates, and hopefully find The One.

It was supposed to be a notably upside-down free year.

And, hey, for what it's worth? He wasn't supposed to be pinned down on a mattress by Eddie Munson either.

And he certainly wasn't supposed to be enjoying it.

But that's getting a bit ahead of things

The Worst Mixtape Ever Made by nbfutureboy

(10/10 I 17,999 I Mature)

“It’s a gift, so you gotta listen to the whole thing, okay? I think-- I think it’s got what it takes.”

There’s an art to making a mixtape - and Steve Harrington has decidedly ignored all semblance of art in creating a mixtape for Eddie Munson. Too bad Eddie’s fascinated with how impressively terrible his song choices are.

took you for a working boy by pukner

(6/6 I 46,823 I Mature)

"Do you--Harrington, do you know other gay people?" "One," Steve says, and then, after a moment, "and a half." "And a half?" Eddie boggles at him, "What does that mean?" "He's figuring it out!" says Steve, defensively, "Taking his time, y'know? Whatever, the point is. It's cool you're gay, man."

Eddie comes out to Steve, and Steve's heartbroken about it for some reason. Eddie thinks Steve's dating Robin. Everyone else thinks Steve and Eddie have been dating this whole time. Robin doesn't get paid enough for this shit.

Also, Hawkins has been cracked open like a badly-baked cake, and everyone's settled into the most mundane apocalypse possible. Eddie Munson starts a radio programme about it.

Meanwhile, Steve gets his nails painted, and outsources a crisis he isn't having.

start by pulling him out of the fire by pricklywhicket

(10/10 I 85,554 I Explicit)

Eddie Munson died on March 27th, 1986.

This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

No, wait. That’s not right. That’s Hitchhiker's Guide. Or was it Restaurant at the End of the Universe? Whatever, not important.

Eddie Munson died on March 27th, 1986.

Except…he didn’t. He couldn’t have. Because Eddie Munson is currently arguing with himself in his fucking head about sci-fi quotes, which doesn’t feel especially like something that a dead person would have the capacity to do.

The bats had killed him. There had been pain, and the sick sensation of tearing flesh. He’d had to swallow past a mouthful of his own blood to tell Henderson he loved him. Surely those were symptoms of imminent death.

And yet.

On April 1st, 1986, Eddie Munson opens his eyes in a dim hospital room. There’s a gasp from his left, and he tries to turn his head towards the source.

“Easy there, kid. They’ve got you trussed up pretty good.”

Eddie doesn’t need to see him. He’d know that voice anywhere, in any universe, hell dimension or otherwise.

“Uncle Wayne?”

A story about the families we find and the love that finds us.

Steady as He Goes by StrangerThings1975

(14/14 I 86,759 I Explicit)

Steve and Eddie are under the misconception that they dislike each other.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hello! I love the recommendations you've done so far.

I was hoping if you could provide me with some recommendations for AU Destiel Detective fics?

Thank you so much. Keep up the good work!

hey! Thank you, here are a few:

A Beginner's Guide to Communing with the Dead by suspiciousflashlight [Mature, 77k words]

Maybe it's the little girl whose disappearance turned into a murder, and whose murder turned into a cold case, and who has now apparently decided to move in with him. Maybe it's the unacceptable hole left in his life when his dumb best friend and partner in (the prevention of) crime decided to go and get himself killed. Maybe it's his brother, whose high-profile career and fantastic girlfriend and first-child-on-the-way are steadily leaving Dean in the dust. Pick one. Pick all of them. The why doesn't matter so much as the what, and the what is this: Dean is pretty sure he's going completely, certifiably insane. Sure, he hasn't started wearing all his clothes inside out, and he still showers on a regular basis (anyways, that's not crazy, just a little eccentric); but there's no getting around the fact that he just threw away his life, his career, and his reputation by dragging out his mom's old necromancy book and summoning a Class A Forbidden Entity to his attic. A cranky one, too. With horrendous bed-head.

As The Sparrow by hubrisandwax [Explicit, 18k words]

It’s 1947. Dean is an ex-marine fighting crime and a very different sort of war to the one he faced in the Pacific as a detective on the streets of LA. This city isn’t all the glitz and glamor it’s made out to be, however, and Dean finds himself tugged in to a world of life-threatening unknowns when Daphne Novak’s body is discovered. Castiel Novak, her husband, was one of Dean’s battalion mates in the war, and he's just as deadly and dangerous as he was two years ago when he saved Dean’s life during the Battle of Okinawa. Except now he’s wanted for his wife’s murder, and Dean just doesn’t believe Cas is capable of that. Is Cas really who he says he is, though? And what will Dean have to sacrifice in order to repay the debt he feels he owes?

Casicorn by everandanon [Explicit, 56k words]

When Detective Dean Winchester suddenly finds himself with a new roommate, a mysterious man who doesn’t speak but seems to somehow be connected to the department’s recent vigilante problem, he has no idea what he’s in for. The guy doesn’t know how to work a TV, brush his teeth, or even take a shower, and he stares at Dean all the goddamn time. Not to mention he insists on sleeping in Dean’s bed. While Dean is in it! Weird, right? Except the longer Cas sticks around, the less Dean starts to mind; the more he kind of dreads Cas leaving for good, actually, even though nobody really knows who Cas is or where he came from. And then, one night, Dean happens to witness their vigilante firsthand and realizes he knows Cas even less than he thought . . . (Loosely inspired by The Little Mermaid)

Chronicles Of A Serial Killer by Duckyboos [Explicit, 52k words]

Dean Winchester has the perfect apple pie life with his shy-but-sweet boyfriend in the suburbs. He has a steady, well-paid job with the LAPD and he’s charming and attractive. Really, he’s living the American Dream. It’s his extra-curricular activities that some may disagree with, as he’s also an accomplished serial killer. To date, his kills amount to around 36 and he’s never been caught. He’s employed by the law, remember? He knows how these things work.

Grounds for Murder by cinderellasleftshoe, sarcasticbones [Explicit, 199k words]

"The weirdos in that coffee shop are always dancing, or playing 'strip Clue,' whatever that is. Once there were sock puppets, and, I'm not kidding, a cookie trebuchet." "Eyeliner?" "Really, Dean? That's all you got out of all of that. That there's maybe a bangable emo guy over there?" Dean shrugged and took another too-large bite of his sandwich. He'd been a detective with the Phoenix PD Violent Crimes bureau for three years, and he'd see a lot stranger things than sock puppets, old ladies, and strip Clue.

like a thief in the night by kingdumbass [Mature, 28k words]

Plagued by nightmares since the death of his mother as a small child, Dean Winchester is no stranger to grief. After the sudden death of his brother and the unexplainable disappearance of Sam’s fiancee Jessica leave Dean reeling, the former detective turns towards alcohol to cope with the loss, but when the news of another missing peron’s case all the way out in Pontiac, Illinois jogs Dean’s memory of an old unsolved case with possible connections to the mysterious note his brother left behind, he feels compelled to pick up where he left off. Though once he rolls into town, he encounters more questions than answers. Namely: what’s real and what’s delusion? And how is the creature from his nightmares tormenting the residents of this small, suburban town?

The Trouble With Blue Eyes by FriendofCarlotta [Explicit, 14k words]

For years now, Dean Winchester has had a mutually beneficial arrangement with Castiel Novak, a fellow private eye. It’s good, it’s easy, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Well, except for one thing: Dean’s caught himself a bad case of feelings, and Cas doesn’t feel the same way.

What Once Was Sacred by saltandbyrne [Explicit, 55k words]

Los Angeles detective Dean Winchester works tirelessly to atone for the sins of his father one case at a time. When his best friend Charlie drags him to visit Sam at his new job, Dean stumbles onto a bizarre string of deaths that brings him uncomfortably close to his past. Dean can't stop thinking about Castiel, an enigmatic DJ who plays the sexiest music Dean's ever heard. A chance encounter at Castiel's house reveals that Castiel is an incubus, and Dean must face the lies and the reality of his childhood as a hunter. Dean comes to see that he and Castiel have more in common than he thought, and that guilt can be the hardest thing to cast aside.

You can also check our law enforcement!castiel and law enforcement!dean for more. Also worth mentioning the DestielNoirBang as a future source.

[partmathpartmagic]

"Give me six months"

This is a chapter from a longer fic that you can find here. It's a letter from Astarion, written over the course of six months immediately following the defeat of the Absolute. The premise is that you two are taking some time apart after the main events of the game so he can figure his shit out a bit. I love his friendship ending because he's so happy and proud of himself, but I wish it were possible to have that and the romance as well, so this is me making that happen.

Darling,

It’s been 3 days since you saved the world. I can hear you objecting to my phrasing, so let me rephrase: it’s been 3 days since I saved the world and you were also there. Better, my dear?

This is very irksome, you know. I thought I’d make it more than 3 days without being so desperate to talk to you that I write a bunch of sentimental words down for all the world to see. And even worse, it would’ve been far less than 3 days if I’d been able to find any parchment in this godsforsaken city (we could have just let it burn, darling, no one would blame us!).

Frankly, I’m rather upset with you. Yes, I’m actually making up my mind right now. You don’t deserve a letter from me, you’re too lovely and too brilliant and too beautiful and you make it impossible to live without you.

I’ve decided to help out the spawn in the underdark. There. That’s all you’re getting from me.

______________

Perhaps I was a bit hasty. I apologize.

That’s something I’m working on doing more of, apologizing. I am getting quite a lot of practice, spending every day with people I seduced for… I’d rather not write his name, actually. But you know. People I seduced in order for him to turn and torture and starve and imprison them for a century or two.

As such, I am becoming an expert at apologizing for things no one could ever really apologize for.

If I was in a better mood I’d make a joke about how I’m spending time with thousands of my exes and you should be jealous. You’ll just have to imagine how hilarious it would be, and then pretend it’s not funny even though you’re smiling, and then roll your eyes at me like you always do. I even miss your exasperation. That’s… horrible. This is horrible.

I know it was my idea to go off and figure things out on my own but I’m beginning to suspect I’m the stupidest elf to ever live.

I can’t tell anymore if I’m being funny when I talk or if I’m just being mean. Is that how other people feel about me, that I’m mean? I think it probably is. Maybe I don’t want to be mean. That doesn’t sound right. I think I’m okay with being mean, I just want to be doing it on purpose.

You’re always so kind, but you have your meaner moments, don’t you? Gods, you’re so terrible with children. The things I’ve seen you say to them. They all think you’re dreadful. That’s something at least.

You see, I find it easier to bear your absence if I pretend your presence isn’t the best feeling in the world and everything you do isn’t perfect. I’m never able to pretend for very long, but I get a good couple minutes each day where I convince myself I’m scandalized by how you talk to children and not completely enchanted by it, and I miss you just slightly less.

_______________

It has been one month since we saved the world. I miss the sun almost as much as I miss you.

My siblings have actually made quite a bit of progress with the spawn. They’re talking about starting a school for the younger ones. It’s very strange. I hope they don’t become good people or we’ll have nothing to talk about anymore.

I had a chat with Sebastian this afternoon, which was also strange. He said, “it must be difficult seeing our faces day and night. Torturing yourself isn’t going to change anything for us. You’ve apologized; you might as well go figure out your next move.”

I think he’s just sick of seeing me and wants me to leave, but he found a kind way to say it.

But he’s not wrong to assume I have no plan after this. I might head above ground tonight and explore the city a bit, see if anything inspires me. I haven’t breathed spore-free air in what feels like years.

I think I could be okay with not having the sun if I had you. Having neither seems… unfair.

I suppose I deserve a bit of unfair.

_______________

2 months. Some very strange things have happened.

Firstly, I did take that walk. I very purposely avoided the part of the city where I heard you had settled, and then of course wound up walking right past a house that apparently belongs to your sister. I thought she was you for a moment and my heart stopped. Metaphorically, anyway.

I don’t love how much it destroyed me looking through a window and seeing someone I thought was you holding a child and kissing a spouse. Which is to say that it completely destroyed me even as it made me happy seeing you apparently happy.

I’m adding this experience to my list of reasons why forming attachments with other people is actually a bad idea and never worth it. I also have a list of reasons why attachments are good and worth it every time, which has only ever consisted of one item, which is your name. The good list wins every time, a fact which has also made its way to the bad list. No one person should have that much power!

If I’m not allowed to ascend, you’re not allowed to make me love you. It’s just as bad. You're drunk with power, darling, and it's time someone called you out on it.

Gods, you’ve completely distracted me from my point. Anyway, after I finally remembered that 2 months would not have been long enough for you to grow and birth and raise a toddler, and after I looked into the window once more and realized your sister does not actually look much like you at all, and also after I looked at the mailbox and saw your second name with a different first name, I pieced things together. Not quickly enough to keep your family from noticing the crazed vampire staring in their window, I’m sorry to say. Do give them my regards.

But after that, I ran into someone I recognized from the palace. One of the butlers, I think, or a general thrall. He was so excited to see me that he stopped me in the middle of the street and started calling me “Master” and babbling about having the carpets cleaned, so I said “strange man, what the hells are you talking about??” And he told me I was the most senior spawn still living and as such… have inherited the estate.

Now, I know this is difficult to believe given my refined manners and, well, my hair, but I’ve never actually owned a palace before. Much less one where I was trapped and tortured for a couple centuries. It’s a complicated situation. Everything is still very much in the air, but I wanted to tell you, and this is how I tell you things now. I will update you once I have an update.

_______________

I adopted a cat. I ran into Halsin on one of his supply runs into the city and he had His Majesty from Last Light with him. Apparently His Majesty had been picking fights with children (and more power to him, I’m sure you’d say), and I remembered his regal little face and volunteered to take him in without a second thought.

We are still… feeling each other out. But I gave him his own room in the estate, which I think he appreciated. The cat, I mean. Halsin doesn’t get a room.

I also do not have a room in the estate, as I am unwilling to set foot inside the building until it has been completely gutted and cleaned and the dungeons walled off permanently. Strangely enough, our old friend Barcus sent me a great team of his people to handle the renovations. Demolitions, as you can imagine, have been smooth, if a bit too enthusiastic. The gnomes have also been very nice about the whole vampire thing and willing to work nights whenever I need to be there to make decisions.

On a related note, I’ve added another item to the long list of crimes Cazador committed: laying carpeting over completely gorgeous vintage wood flooring! Murder and torture is bad, but that’s a whole other level. Thank the gods we got that criminal off the streets.

(Did you notice I wrote his name out? And then made a little joke? I think I’m rather proud of myself for that)

For the first time I’m glad we’re spending this time apart, because truly all I can talk about is tiles and paint samples and upholstery and you’d probably stake me within a couple days of being in my presence and it would be absolutely justified.

I ache for you.

_______________

3 months.

I have been thinking about my lists. I think, perhaps, it’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, making them the sole positive attachment in your life.

I say this because I’ve been spending time with His Majesty to help him acclimate, and a gnome worker commented the other day that I’m the only living creature this cat will tolerate. It made me so sad, thinking of this lovely, affectionate cat who is only ever lovely and affectionate with me. Everyone else’s experience with him will always be negative. I’ll be the only one who’s sad when he dies, and people won’t even be sympathetic to me because they’ll think, well, he wasn’t very nice anyway, good riddance.

It seems like we at least owe it to our loved ones not to leave them alone with their grief when we die.

And no, my love, I did not see the parallels to any vampire with which we are acquainted, at least not until Halsin came by to check on him on his way out of town and I gave him this whole monologue. And then he just sort of stood there looking at me until he very gently hinted that perhaps there are other people who would be willing to love the cat “if he’d just show them his belly instead of his claws.”

At that point I just thought he was hitting on me, but after he explained a little further I finally got what he was trying to say.

Which is how I ended up wine drunk with Halsin last night. We have… a surprising amount of things in common. It was disconcerting.

He also offered me some sort of mysterious substance from his pipe which I politely declined, and it was only after this that he told me a friend of his had smoked it just the night before and it had sent them into a panic attack. So if Halsin ever offers you his pipe, darling, just say no. Given your already nervous constitution, and I say this with love, you’d be absolutely fucked.

Speaking of drunk! You may be wondering how I’ve been keeping myself fed. Some of the Sharess employees have picked up on the increased demand from all these newly-free vampires and have started offering blood drinking as a service, but I’m hesitant to drink from another humanoid. My siblings think I’m being a stick in the mud, but I’ve heard them talking about people they’ve tasted and none of them sound anywhere close to the experience of drinking from you. I feel as if I’ve only ever tasted the most exquisitely aged brandy and I’m being offered tiefling wine as a replacement. I just think it would break my heart.

That said, non-vermin animals have offered a surprising range of flavors. I’ve found I’m partial to owlbears. Something about the risk makes them taste better, I think. Sort of earthy and vegetal? Not bad. In the alcohol metaphor this would be something akin to a local brew. Still a downgrade, but different enough that it doesn’t sting as much.

My good list has 3 names now, by the way: you, Halsin (this was a wine decision, but I’m allowing it for now), and His Majesty.

_______________

4 months? I think?

Listen darling, I’ll just get this out of the way: I’ve had many glasses of brandy. What’s that you say? How many is many? I stopped counting at six, my dear!

You know sometimes I think, absence is absence makes the heart grow fonder. And then I think of you, my blossom, my peach, my absolute tadpole (workshopping that one but i like it), and I think, well fuck. Maybe I’m making it up, maybe she’s not as wonderful as I remember?

And so I thik of all your worst qualities, and I concentrate so hard on them, and my love, my petal, my sweet corn, do you know what happens then? I can’t even think of any

OH wait, that’s not true. That thing when you talk and you have a bubble in your throat that you haven’t swallowed and your voice comes out weird and it makes me want to set myself on fire

Also you’re so hard on yourself, it drives me up an absolute wall. I just want to grab your shoulders and shake you and yell “be nice to my girlfriend”

And then grab other things and shake them…?

I’m far too drunk to be seductive, but just imagine me saying some absolutely filthy things in your ear right now in that voice you like. YOU KNOW THE ONE. Gods, I can’t wait to use it on you again.

I just waaaaant. I want you here so bad all the time.

I want your smell and your touch and your skin and your everything everywhere on me and around me

And… in me? Cheeky, darling. I’m not saying no, but now’s hardly the time

Love and like and cherish and worship and want, a.

_______________

No one has ever felt this ill before and no one ever will again.

I refuse on principle to take back anything I wrote last night, but let’s all agree to forget the corn thing, shall we?

And that cheeky bit at the end–really very unbecoming of you to take advantage of an incapacitated elf like that. Again, I’m not saying no, just. The timing really makes me think less of you, love.

_______________

To be honest, darling, I’m running out of things to say. Six months is a month away and I’m trying so hard not to just watch the clock all day (well, all night).

Has this time been worth it? Nothing is worth this, but if I put aside the heartache, it’s been amazing. I truly never thought I’d be able to become… whoever it is I’ve become.

When the tadpole happened, I saw hope for the first time. I thought I’d finally have control over my life if I had control over the tadpole. If I had control over everything. I honestly never saw another way.

It’s a testament to you that you saw all of this coming from the beginning. You looked at me, this open wound oozing hurt and fear and anger, and you saw a person. You thought I was funny (admit it) and clever, and worth getting to know.

You gave me the space to say no to you, and loved me regardless.

I don’t think I’m nearly as powerful without you, darling. But over these months I’ve accomplished things I’m proud of all on my own, which is fairly unprecedented.

I’m beside myself with excitement to see you again, to give you a tour of this place. You’ll like what I did in the bedroom. And that’s not even a line, I genuinely think you’ll appreciate the color palette! It reminds me of you.

And maybe if you like it we can engage in some mutual appreciation, if you know what I mean.

I don't, but maybe you do. My pickup lines have gone all to shit without you, my muse.

My good list has several names on it now. Yours is still at the top. But you're not the sole thing keeping me afloat anymore. I thought that would make me feel distant from you in some way. I never realized it would give me even more space to appreciate you for who you are instead of what you provide.

Knowing I don’t need you gives me more room to want you, I think.

Anyway, I’m not sure I have another one of these installments in me. Thank you for reading this far, if you have. The version of you who is sitting at your kitchen table reading this (that’s a guess but wouldn’t it be funny if it was right?) has been my companion for all these months, and I cherish her as I cherish every other version of you.

A.

_______________

Sending this today.

I want to be clear, I don’t expect anything. I didn’t ask you to wait around pining for me for all this time, and I wouldn’t have wanted that anyway.

So if you’ve moved on, if you’re happier where you are, if getting this letter ruins your day–it’s alright. I will miss you, maybe forever, but I have friends and a new line of work and a handsome son (to be clear I’m referring to His Majesty, I didn’t give birth since the last time I wrote). All of these things will keep me afloat.

However, if your heart and your life still have room for me, and if you think I would improve them with my presence, I will be overjoyed to share all of these things with you.

I want to meet your sister and hear you try to make conversation with her toddler. I want to show you everything I’ve done to update the estate, and I want you to make it feel like home just by being there. I want to hear all of your thoughts on Jaheira and Nine-Fingers and speculate on their love life.

I want it all, and I want it all with you.

See you soon, my love.

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

Knowing me I’m gonna absolutely make this into a longer post but like. Isn’t it just SOOOOOOOO SILLY AND SO GOOFY that Luis bestowed the role of Sancho Panza onto Leon even though they’d only JUST met

Like,,,, Don Quixote isn’t just a book Luis loves a lot- he bases his ENTIRE MORALITY on his own ideas of what Don Quixote means and what the messages behind it are. He SURROUNDS himself with chivalric ideals and so, obviously, he holds that book and it’s characters VERY near and dear to him- hell, he doesn’t even let Ada or Ashley in on just how much this damn book means to him!!!!!!! The other scientists who he worked with during his time with Los Illuminados also called him Don Quixote, but realistically, how much would they have known of Luis’ deep-seeded love for that novel??????

So like. Clearly. There is NO WAY IN HELL Luis doesn’t understand the impact of Alonso (Don Quixote himself) and Sancho’s relationship. He ABSOLUTELY understands the importance of it and how vital to the tale each other are and how intrinsically intertwined they are in each others lives and how one would quite literally have not survived without the other and how they’ve gone through hell and back for each other (in Alonso’s eyes LITERALLY) and how Sancho was there for him when his illusions of fantasy finally faded away

So. Like. Luis picking Leon to call his Sancho HAD to be purposeful right????????

He HAD to have understood the weight of his words and the weight of his decision. Maybe Leon didn’t quite understand at first but Luis????? Luis knew DAMN WELL that Don Quixote and Sancho Panza’s relationship went further than two people who just happen to be on the same adventure. Luis picking LEON to be his Sancho was PURPOSEFUL.

He’s not just any old chum he happens to he stuck with; Leon is a man who fully encompasses EVERYTHING GOOD Luis believes in in the world. Leon is EVERYTHING his chivalric ideals want him to be. He’s an inherently kind and caring and selfless human being and he’s everything Luis wants to see in himself. He saved him from certain death and now they’re connected more by just the circumstances of their situation- they’d go through hell and back for each other and they HAVE. He wants Leon not just to like him but to LOVE him. Because Leon sees past his actions; he sees past his mistakes and up until now, nobody has ever given him that privilege. Just like how Sancho still believed in Alonso and still believed that there was worth in his fantastical delusions.

So how does Luis express this gratitude without just straight up saying ‘I love you’????

By using language he understands and is comfortable using, of course.

By projecting a story that has meant SO MUCH to him onto the both of them.

And GOD. THATS SO POIGNANT TO ME. HES TELLING LEON HE LOVES HIM IN A WAY HES BEST AT AND MOST COMFORTABLE DOING. HES SAYING ‘I LOVE YOU’ IN ALL OF HIS ACTIONS AND PROJECTIONS. WHICH MEANS MORE THAN THOSE THREE WORDS EVER COULD. HES USING HIS OWN LOVE FOR THAT BOOK TO PROJECT HIS LOVE ONTO THE PEOPLE HE CARES ABT GODDAMNIT‼️‼️‼️

(ALSO SIDENOTE THIS DOESNT JUST APPLY TO LEON!!!!! THIS APPLIES TO ASHLEY AND ADA TOO!!!!!!!!!!! HE PROJECTS THIS SAME LAMGUAGE ONTO THEM AS WELL, JUST NOT TO THEIR FACES!!!!!!!!!! HE SHOWS THEM KINDNESS AND LOVE IN HIS ACTIONS!!!!!!!!!!!)

And I think on some level Leon knows this too. He probably hasn’t analysed Don Quixote from every angle possible like Luis has, but he knows- in those final actions, when he takes up the mantle of his Sancho and confirms to Luis that, yes, he WAS a fine knight, he WAS his Don Quixote- I think he knew exactly what Luis had been trying to say to him this whole time. Just…. Using words that best describes it in his own way.

[syllvane]

familiar hearts- tolya yul-bataar x reader

a/n: half based on a request but kind of took on a life of its own! gender neutral, Nikolai’s sibling. can be read as a sequel to soldier, poet, king, but can also be read separately. marche is the reader’s privateer name.

They kill the Healer first, hands bound and throat slit, ruby red blood staining their garments and nothing they could do except scream, alert the rest of the ship that there are intruders.

They have Grisha of their own as well, ones who engage the Grisha on the Volkvolny.

And the Grisha on the Volkvolny are outnumbered, but they are excellent.

Tolya and Tamar fight in complete synchronization, perfectly able to predict the others move before they’ve even done it. 

Tidemakers work in tandem to try and keep the sea calm while knocking off the otkazat’sya pirates, trying their best to even the numbers, Durasts bend the metal of swords and rifles, making them all but unusable.

Even you and Nikolai are in the fray, as much as he would prefer that you stay safe, you would hear none of it.

The crew of this ship are more your family than the royals preening in Os Alta and besides, you’ve never been one to shy away from a fight. 

Nikolai is swordfighting the captain of the other ship, though he seems to be verbally jousting as well with them, judging by the remarks that you’re able to overhear.

You make your way through several of the otkazat’sya pirates- they are good, but they are not you. 

You are a flash of blade and blood and for a moment, you see that Tolya hesitates while he’s admiring you, doesn’t block when he should and a blade plunges into his flesh.

You don’t allow yourself to scream, to distract anyone else as you dashed towards him, blades tearing at your skin, and put yourself in front of him, protecting Tamar’s blindside and her brother.

You’re easier prey for the Heartrender that Tolya was fending off, and you can feel your heart begin to slow as you swing wildly.

You don’t allow yourself to fall, even when you should be unconcious on the ground next to Tolya, and when you think you’re about to, a gunshot rings out and the Heartrender falls dead. 

Your brother, livid, holds the smoking gun and with the rest of the pirates dead, rushes over to you.

“Are you okay? Do you realize how stupid-” His sentence stops, his gaze going behind you, to Tamar kneeling over her dying brother. “Oh.”

You collapsed to your knees as well, looking at the man that you would’ve died to save.

You put your hands on his arm gently, shaking your head.

“You can’t go. You can’t die.” You said, your voice breaking.

“You looked… magnificent out there.”

“No, Tolya, you don’t get to die. Not yet.” You said, more assurance in your voice and Tamar looked at you miserably.

“There is nothing you can do.”

Nikolai grabbed your shoulder, as if to pull you away and you shook him off.

You closed your eyes. 

You can’t die. Don’t leave me.

You don’t see it, of course, but tissue begins to stitch itself back together- slowly, a Healer with no experience at all was trying to mend something that they loved.

Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

“Marche.” Nikolai said hesitantly. You ignored him.

It’s gruesome to watch, how flesh moves like thread to reconnect itself.

“Marche.” Tolya said, his voice no longer weak and you opened your eyes in surprise to see him sitting, leaned against his sister and everyone on the ship looking at you.

And before you can notice your handiwork, your head hits the deck of the ship and the unconsciousness that you’ve been staving off greets you like an old friend.

When you wake after what feels like the longest sleep in your life, it is in Nikolai’s chambers and with Tamar sitting next to you.

Before you can say anything, she turns to look at you, feeling your heart speed up.

“You saved my brothers life,” She said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’ll spend my life repaying that debt.”

You shook your head.

“Whatever I did, I did freely. Out of love.”

Tamar smiled and sniffed.

“He’s been in here reciting poetry to you, whenever he isn’t above deck.” She said, a smile appearing on your lips before she looked up at the ceiling. “He’s been listening for any differences in your heartbeat, so I’m sure Nikolai and him will be down here any moment.”

As if on cue, there was frantic knock on the door and without wait for an answer, the door opened, revealing Tolya and Nikolai.

“Be gentle.” Tamar said sternly. Tolya paid no attention, rushing forward and embracing you tightly, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“Thank you.” He mumbled quietly, his words a prayer against your skin.

“It was nothing.”

Nikolai cleared his throat and Tolya smiled, pulling away from you and granting Nikolai access to you.

He smiled at you, striding across the room to hug you, more gently than Tolya.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like the Volkvolny ran me over while I was asleep.” You half-joked before realizing your mistake as Nikolai began to fret over you. “Nik I’m fine, I feel fine.”

“You scared me. You scared all of us. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t know either. Is everyone else okay? How many losses did we suffer?”

“You need to worry about getting better before you start worrying about others. I say this as your brother and as your Captain.”

“Tolya?”

“We’re in rough shape, but most of the crew survived.”

“Since when have you started taking orders from her?” Nikolai frowned. “Don’t answer that. Promise me that you’ll get your rest before you start healing others.”

“I don’t even know how I did it the first time.”

“Exactly, all the more reason to rest and wait until we can make a stop in Novyi Zem where you can learn from teachers.”

“Nik, I can-”

“No. I love you, and I know you just want to help our crew. I want to help them as well, but I can’t lose you. You have no idea what it was like, watching you fall unconcious.” 

You didn’t say anything before nodding silently.

“Okay.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking a step back.

“Well, I better go make sure that the crew hasn’t mutinied.” He said lightly and you rolled your eyes.

He smiled, giving you a nod before exiting. Tolya made to move but Tamar reached her hand out, shaking her head.

“I’ll go. You two can chat.” She smiled and Tolya gave her a grateful look, moving to take her seat as she exited, the door clicking shut.

“How did you heal me?” He asked slowly and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I… I don’t know, I just kept thinking over and over again that I couldn’t lose you. So, sheer willpower, I guess.” 

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Loving you has always been easy.”

[mothdapple]

Pinestar is Rusty’s Father AU

I know there’s no way I’m the first person to come up with this AU, but it’s been stewing around in my brain for a while (like the Smudge!Scourge AU) so I wanted to talk about it! The AU really intrigues me mostly because I see a ton of new possibilities for interesting dynamics between Firestar and Tigerstar. So here’s a break-down of how I’d imagine it playing out book-by-book for the first arc, going over where I see deviations from canon. (Long post below!)

Book 1

Rusty is born to Nutmeg, but his father is Pine (the former Pinestar) instead of Jake. Rusty is an only kit and Pine is very protective of him. Pine lives nearby and visits him often, even after Rusty is given to a new home, and plays an active role in his life. (However, Nutmeg lives further away, or she and her humans move, leaving Pine and Rusty only with each other.)

Pine warns Rusty about the forest and the dangers of the Clans. He does not tell Rusty that he was once a leader, but he does admit to having been a ThunderClan cat named Pinestar. However, Pine had grown tired of the Clans’ pointless fighting and chose to leave. Despite Pine’s overall negative view of the Clans, Rusty is a very curious kitten (who is also getting forest dreams, sent by StarClan) so is only intrigued more by Pine’s warnings. The main thing Pine speaks fondly of in ThunderClan is his former mate and kit, Tigerkit, wondering if they are okay. Because Rusty is an only child, he is super interested at the thought of having a brother. He imagines Tigerkit to be the strongest, best warrior in all the Clans. However, Pine remains very insistent that Rusty never go into the forest, and Rusty reluctantly promises him he won’t.

Pine is very old however, and when Rusty is around 6 moons old, he dies. Rusty is devastated by the loss of his dad, and he becomes quite lonely. He longs for more family, but he is unable to visit Nutmeg. Rusty’s StarClan forest dreams keep getting stronger too, adding to Rusty’s discontent. Feeling like he no longer belongs in the twolegplace and after convincing himself that he is no longer bound to his promise to his dad to never go in the forest (since Pine has died,) Rusty leaves his home to go join ThunderClan, wanting to find his long-lost brother, Tigerkit.

Rusty runs across a ThunderClan patrol led by Bluestar, and she allows him to come with her back to camp, mostly because of his pelt color matching with the “fire alone will save our clan” prophecy (which Bluestar and Spottedleaf still receive in this AU.) But Rusty’s reception in ThunderClan is less than stellar. Rusty eagerly announces that he wants to join the Clan because his father was Pinestar, a ThunderClan cat. However, he is quite shocked as ThunderClan is disgusted by this, viewing him as the son of traitorous leader who abandoned his Clan. (So Rusty now has to deal with that added baggage, in addition to being a kittypet.) Rusty is saddened that ThunderClan views his father so negatively. Rusty had no idea that his father was once leader, and the Clan’s opinion of him doesn’t match up with Rusty’s memory of his father as a noble cat who just wanted to live out his old age in peace. However, the entire Clan is so insistent about Pinestar being the worst, Rusty starts to doubt his own memory of his father, thinking he might have not known Pine as well as he thought he did. But, Rusty wants to work hard to prove himself to them, and also in a way, clear his dad's name by becoming a good Clan cat himself. Rusty is renamed Firepaw, but is not given a proper mentor because Bluestar declares that because of his heritage and kittypet roots, he will be in a probationary period where he has to prove himself worthy of being a true ThunderClan cat.

Also, of course when Firepaw joins, he is so excited to meet “Tigerkit,” asking about him right away. Firepaw is super impressed by Tigerclaw’s strength and size. Naturally though, Tigerclaw wants nothing to do with Firepaw. He is disgusted by the reminder of his weak, pathetic father (especially because Firepaw so strongly physically resembles Pine.) Despite Tigerclaw’s cold and sometimes outright cruel demeanor, like with the rest of ThunderClan, Firepaw is still determined to prove himself to him. He continues to admire Tigerclaw regardless of his poor treatment of him.

After a little bit of time passes in which Firepaw trains, Tigerclaw does seem to come around to Firepaw, and he starts acting warmer to him. After “testing” him in some dangerous situations, Tigerclaw has realized that Firepaw is more competent than he first believed, and Tigerclaw is smart enough to see that Firepaw's blind admiration could be used to his advantage. By exploiting his love, Tigerclaw is able to manipulate his naive little brother in almost however way he wishes. Tigerclaw and Firepaw “grow closer.” This results in Firepaw seeing being the best warrior he can be and strictly following the code to a T "just like Tigerclaw,” as the best way for him to shed the shadow of his heritage and become a great ThunderClan warrior.

Because Firepaw admires Tigerclaw so much, it takes him way longer than in canon for him to realize anything bad about Tigerclaw. Tigerclaw had still killed Redtail, and Ravenpaw witnessed it. Ravenpaw tries to warn Firepaw that Tigerclaw is dangerous when he sees his friend growing closer to him. Ravenpaw even gets desperate enough to eventually try to tell Firepaw about the murder, but Firepaw thinks Ravenpaw must have been mistaken. There is no way Tigerclaw would ever raise a claw against his own Clanmates! 

Because Ravenpaw is never taken to shelter in the barn by Graypaw and Firepaw, Ravenpaw is quietly murdered by Tigerclaw, permanently silencing him. Firepaw is greatly sadden by Ravenpaw's sudden death but of course suspects nothing of Tigerclaw. Firepaw also becomes better friends with Dustpaw and Longtail thanks to Tigerclaw's influence. After Ravenpaw’s death and Firepaw completing the probationary period, Tigerclaw is even named Firepaw's official mentor, allowing Tigerclaw to sink his hooks in even more deeply.

Because of Tigerclaw’s influence, Firepaw does not help Yellowfang when he finds her on their territory. Instead, he and Tigerclaw chase her off ThunderClan land as they would for any trespasser. This results in ThunderClan being without a medicine cat when Spottedleaf is killed by Clawface. Bluestar is deeply distraught by this development, and starts to lose faith in herself and in StarClan. Bluestar feels as if the “Fire alone” prophecy is ThunderClan’s only hope, and she pins it all on Firepaw being the chosen one. This results in her starting to show clear interest in him over the other apprentices. This does not go unnoticed by Tigerclaw, although he doesn’t know why Bluestar is so interested in Firepaw.

Lionheart dies in the fight that drives Brokenstar from ShadowClan and Tigerclaw becomes deputy of ThunderClan after his death, like in canon. Fireheart and Graystripe also earn their warrior names, but Sandstorm and Dustpelt had gotten theirs first (Tigerclaw insists on Firepaw receiving thorough training, even though Bluestar seemed eager to make him a warrior as soon as possible.) Book 1 ends with Fireheart (unknowingly) firmly under Tigerclaw’s paw, and Tigerclaw appreciating more and more the benefits of having his half-brother’s undying loyalty, especially with Bluestar being so fond of Fireheart.

Book 2

With Brokenstar driven out of ShadowClan, Fireheart is picked out by Bluestar and Tigerclaw to go retrieve WindClan. However, Sandstorm (not Graystripe) is picked to accompany him at Tigerclaw’s insistence. This is a careful calculation on Tigerstar’s part. Almost all of Tigerclaw’s biggest supporters are the younger warriors. Fireheart and Graystripe are good friends, but Tigerclaw thinks Graystripe is a bit of a buffoon. He believes Sandstorm to be much more competent, and although Sandstorm deeply respects Tigerclaw, she has never gotten over her disdain for Fireheart and his soft kittenhood. Fireheart is Tigerclaw’s most loyal follower, and Tigerclaw wants a united group of allies, so getting Sandstorm to at least tolerate Fireheart is critical to that.

Neither Fireheart or Sandstorm are happy about being paired together for this mission, but they inevitably bond over the course of the journey to get WindClan and come back. By the end of it, there is even a spark of romantic tension between the two. Tigerclaw is quite pleased that his plan worked so well when they return.

Fireheart is shortly after given Cinderpaw as his first apprentice (thanks to a suggestion by Tigerclaw to Bluestar, who is happy to favor Fireheart due to the prophecy.) But, Cinderpaw is hit by a monster and gravely injured. ThunderClan is still without a medicine cat, so Cinderpaw is taken to WindClan for treatment. Because WindClan feels indebted to ThunderClan for retrieving them, Barkface is happy to care for Cinderpaw in repayment. As Fireheart grieves over his injured apprentice, Tigerclaw is there to comfort him. Tigerclaw reveals that Goldenflower is expecting his kits when he promises Fireheart one of them to train as a new apprentice.

While Fireheart had been gone saving WindClan, Graystripe had started his affair with Silverstream. When Fireheart discovers it, he is very upset, even more so than in canon due to his apprenticeship under Tigerclaw. Fireheart and Graystripe have a huge falling out over it, and Fireheart puts the final nail in their friendship’s coffin when he rats out Graystripe to Tigerclaw, telling him what he knows about Graystripe’s illegal relationship. Graystripe is punished (not as much as Tigerclaw would have liked, but Bluestar has a soft-spot for cats caught in cross Clan relationships, who’d have thought.) Meanwhile, Fireheart grows closer to Dustpelt, Sandstorm, and Longtail, integrating fully into their friend group and leaving Graystripe on the wayside. 

Cinderpaw survives her injury and decides that she’d like to be ThunderClan’s medicine cat. She stays in WindClan for the time being, still recovering but also starting medicine cat training under Barkface.

Like in canon, Brokenstar and his rogues attack ThunderClan’s camp, but they are defeated. Brokentail is blinded by Fireheart, and Bluestar decides to keep him prisoner rather than execute him immediately.

Book 3

Despite Graystripe’s punishment, his desire to see Silverstream isn’t totally killed, and Fireheart catches him in the act of meeting with her again. Silverstream is now pregnant, and Fireheart explodes at his former friend. He and Graystripe start arguing about how RiverClan is "evil" for all the fighting over Sunningrocks and the ThunderClan cats who have died there, with Fireheart spouting a lot of Tigerclaw's talking points. Silverstream gets angry and cuts in that that RiverClan has lost cats in those battles too. In response, Firestar says something about how Tigerclaw was just avenging Redtail by killing Oakheart. This is when Silverstream drops the bomb of "what are you talking about, Oakheart died in a rockfall." 

Fireheart rejects her words in the moment, but they still linger over the next few weeks. Of course he wants to believe Tigerclaw’s story over hers, but this in combination with what he was told by Ravenpaw before he died plants the first seeds of real doubt in his mind. Fireheart almost wants to go back and ask Silverstream for more details, or proof to back up her claim, but before he can, Silverstream dies giving birth. Goldenflower takes in her kits to care for alongside her newborns (Fireheart’s niece and nephew.)

WindClan and ShadowClan find out that ThunderClan is harboring Brokentail. In response, Barkface stops training Cinderpaw, who returns to ThunderClan, putting ThunderClan in a difficult position. They really have no reason to protect Brokentail, but they will look weak if they bend to WindClan and ShadowClan’s demands to hand him over. RiverClan has also demanded that ThunderClan give them Silverstream’s kits. Bluestar is paralyzed by the threats from all the other Clans and with ThunderClan still not having a fully trained medicine cat, she is growing more paranoid about enemies and illnesses and becoming convinced that StarClan has abandoned her Clan. Tigerclaw urges Bluestar to kill Brokentail but also strike against WindClan or ShadowClan preemptively— both Clans are still recovering from Brokenstar, and it would be much easier to take them on separately than if they band together. Fireheart agrees with him, saying that ThunderClan cannot afford to look weak. But, Bluestar cannot make a decision, so she does nothing.

WindClan and ShadowClan attack ThunderClan’s camp, and ThunderClan is saved by the appearance of a RiverClan patrol who had conveniently come at the same time to retrieve the kits. But, the fight is a humiliation for ThunderClan— being attacked by two Clans in their own camp and requiring RiverClan’s assistance to drive WindClan and ShadowClan out. During the battle, Brokentail retreated to the empty medicine cat’s den to hide. Once the fighting is done, Fireheart goes inside to get him, only to see Tigerclaw standing over Brokentail’s wheezing body, blood all over his muzzle. Brokentail dies in front of him, and when the shock finally dies down, Fireheart asks Tigerclaw why he did it— Bluestar had not ordered them to execute him. Tigerclaw argues that Brokentail had only brought ThunderClan problems, which Bluestar had been too indecisive to solve, so he took matters into his own paws. No one will know it was him anyway— Brokentail could have easily died in the fighting. Fireheart is a bit troubled by Tigerclaw’s disregard of Bluestar’s orders and his duplicitous means, especially given his newfound doubts about Oakheart’s death, but Fireheart agrees with Tigerclaw’s assessment of Brokentail. He easily agrees to keep quiet about it.

Graystripe decides to give RiverClan his kits and leave with them. Fireheart has one more conversation with his former friend before he goes. Graystripe has grown more wary of Tigerclaw recently, especially after seeing his influence on Fireheart. He warns Fireheart that he’s changed from the cat that Graystripe used to know, and to not let Tigerclaw turn him into someone he’s not. 

Book 4

Bluestar’s mental health takes a steep decline after the attack. She is now showing signs of dementia in addition to her paranoia. But ThunderClan at least has a fully trained medicine cat again. Thanks to Tigerclaw’s negotiations with Crookedstar about the return of Silverstream’s kits, Mudfur agreed to finish Cinderpaw’s training, and she is now Cinderpelt. 

Tigerclaw is more or less running ThunderClan single-handedly at this point, with Bluestar staying mostly in her den. Tigerclaw is also using Fireheart as his righthand man as a sort of pseudo-deputy, sending him on errands and trusting him to organize patrols when he is busy with other things. Fireheart is pleased his brother has so much trust in him, but he is still has questions about what happened that night Oakheart died. He attempts some investigating of Tigerclaw to further tease out the mystery of what really happened in the battle where Oakheart and Redtail died, but without an eye-witness (like Ravenpaw was in canon,) Fireheart isn’t making any headway. This isn’t helped by the fact that he still loves and admires Tigerclaw, so he is not at all sold on the idea that Tigerclaw is actually bad.

But, Tigerclaw is indeed still manipulating Fireheart and using that to ask him to do some seemingly harmless favors. One of these favors is interacting with Brokenstar’s rogues, who Tigerclaw had gathered up just outside of ThunderClan territory. Tigerclaw talks Fireheart into believing that these rogues were misled by Brokenstar, but they can be truly good, loyal warriors, if given a second chance. Fireheart is unsure, but he trusts Tigerclaw enough that he does not argue with him about it. 

Then the rogues launch an attack ThunderClan. Their scents and pelts are disguised with mud, but Fireheart has gotten to know them well enough by now that he recognizes some of them anyway when he gets close. Fireheart is shocked that the cats he and Tigerclaw had been helping betrayed them. Worried about Bluestar’s fragile health/mind, Fireheart rushes to her den to see if she’s safe, but it is already too late. Bluestar is dead and Tigerstar stands over her body, blood dripping from his fur. He tells Fireheart that he tried to save her but got here too late and the attackers killed her. The battle ends and the attackers vanish back into the night as quickly as they came, having also killed Runningwind and Brindleface. No one in ThunderClan knows why these cats attacked, or even who they are, but Fireheart knows. And he knows that Tigerclaw knows. 

Fireheart is extremely confused and feels betrayed by Tigerclaw, not understanding why he hasn’t said anything to Fireheart about Brokentail’s rogues having been the ones who attacked them. But, seeing the fragile state of ThunderClan, he resolves to wait to speak to Tigerclaw. He remains silent in public about it as Tigerclaw comforts the mourning Clan. Tigerclaw wants to leave to go to the Moonstone right away, but Fireheart insists they speak privately first and Tigerclaw finally relents. Fireheart tells him that he knows those cats were Brokenstar’s rogues; the cats Tigerclaw has been having him bring food and messages to. Tigerclaw does a good job gaslighting the heck out of Fireheart, insisting that he must be mistaken. Fireheart’s confidence is shaken (maybe he did make a mistake? But they looked so familiar.) Still though, Fireheart has other doubts about Tigerclaw. He wants to ask if he was also mistaken about Tigerclaw being alone in the den with Bluestar, with blood on his muzzle, just like how Tigerclaw was alone in the den with Brokentail. But, Fireheart stays silent for now. He doesn’t want to say the words aloud and give such a horrid thought life.

Tigerclaw adds in charm and manipulation to his gaslighting. He “comforts” Fireheart, saying that it’s completely understandable that Fireheart’s stress and grief was getting the better of him and making him think he saw something that’s not there. But, Tigerclaw reassures him that while Bluestar’s death was terrible and tragic, it really perhaps ended up being for the greater good. Bluestar made their Clan weak, but Tigerclaw will make ThunderClan powerful, strong, and safe again, especially “with Fireheart at his side.” Having no solid evidence of Tigerclaw’s wrongdoing beyond knowing that Tigerclaw knew Brokenstar’s rogues somehow, Fireheart remains quiet, but the unshakeable trust he used to have in his brother has been broken.

Tigerclaw prepares to leave for the Moonstone, but not before he names Fireheart his deputy (seemingly to reward his loyalty, but also to keep a close eye on him.)

Book 5

Tigerstar returns to ThunderClan as their new leader, and Fireheart begins his role as deputy, although he feels like he’s constantly keeping an eye on Tigerstar. Fireheart wishes he had someone to confide in about his concerns about him, and he starts to miss Graystripe. Although Fireheart has close friends in ThunderClan like Dustpelt and Longtail, and a blossoming romance with Sandstorm, he knows they are all too loyal to Tigerstar for him to bring up his doubts. Fireheart starts to feel isolated.

Tigerstar, however, is well liked as a leader in ThunderClan. The Clan is shaken after Bluestar’s death and the vicious, mysterious attack, but Tigerstar promises to keep ThunderClan safe. He increases patrols and there is no hint of any dangerous cats in ThunderClan’s territory or nearby, reassuring almost all of ThunderClan.

Fireheart receives more and more intense dreams from StarClan. Throughout the previous books, they have been in contact with him this whole time, telling him that he is destined to right the wrongs of his father. Fireheart had previously thought they meant that they wanted him to be a great warrior of ThunderClan, like how Pine could not. But, in this book, Bluestar finally appears to tell him to his face that no, that’s not what StarClan means— they mean that his destiny is to stop Tigerstar. She tells him that StarClan always knew Tigerstar would harm ThunderClan. Pinestar had the power to end Tigerstar before he began, but he was too weak to do so. So now Fireheart had to fix his father’s mistakes. Fireheart puts 2 and 2 together and realizes that she is telling him that StarClan ordered Pinestar to kill his own kit, and even though Fireheart has his own doubts about Tigerstar, he is horrified by this. He argues that his father did the right thing by not killing an innocent child, but Bluestar says that Tigerstar is NOT innocent. Fireheart gets angry and says that Pine disobeying StarClan and leaving ThunderClan is proof that StarClan cannot control a cat’s destiny, so why couldn’t Tigerkit have grown into a better cat, and why can’t Tigerstar change his ways now? So far he’s been a decent enough leader of ThunderClan. Bluestar becomes furious, but the dream fades before she can say anything else. Fireheart wakes up, still wary of Tigerstar but determined to not follow StarClan’s orders to murder him in cold blood. He has seen good in him, so there may be a way to save him even if StarClan gave up on Tigerstar as soon as he was born.

A fire tears through the forest, and Tigerstar loses a life or two futilely trying to save some of the Clan’s elders. Fireheart sees this as proof of the fact that there is good in Tigerstar, and that he truly cares about ThunderClan. Maybe he really has been acting in the best interest of his Clan this whole time. Maybe Fireheart really had been mistaken about what he thought about the rogues and Bluestar. (Or maybe, even if Tigerstar killed Bluestar, maybe it was necessary for the good of ThunderClan. Maybe she really was too weak and leading ThunderClan down a bad path.)

ThunderClan shelters in RiverClan territory after the fire. Crookedstar is weak/ill and it is clear to Fireheart that Leopardfur will be leader soon. He notices that she and Tigerstar spend a lot of time alone together (an almost uncomfortable amount of time.) Fireheart wonders what Tigerstar is up to, and he also notices how uncomfortable Goldenflower also seems about the situation. Fireheart tries to awkwardly reassure his sister-in-law that he doesn’t think Tigerstar is interested in Leopardfur “like that.”

Fireheart is also happy to see Graystripe again, and the two strike back up a tentative friendship. Graystripe says he’s sorry to hear about Bluestar and asks how things have been now that Tigerstar is leader and Fireheart deputy. Fireheart considers telling Graystripe his doubts on Tigerstar, but because of the fire and his Bluestar dream, he decides against it, instead just saying things are good. Graystripe knows Fireheart well enough to sense him holding back. He doesn’t press, but he says that he’s willing to be there to talk with Fireheart if he ever needs it.

ThunderClan returns back to their camp and starts trying to rebuild. However, Fireheart is stunned when Tigerstar suddenly comes back to camp the next day with Brokentail’s rogues. ThunderClan is immediately on edge about this, but Tigerstar introduces them to ThunderClan as loyal cats who want to find a home in a Clan again. ThunderClan is hesitant about them joining, but Tigerstar tells the Clan that they need help rebuilding after the fire, and the cats have promised to work hard. 

Fireheart recognizes one of the rogues as someone that he saw at ThunderClan’s camp the day of the attack. Despite Tigerstar’s masterclass gaslighting, when Fireheart sees this cat, he knows in his bones that he witnessed this cat kill Brindleface. At the first chance he gets, Fireheart gets this cat alone, corners them and tells them that he knows they were there during the attack, threatening to tear them to shreds if they don’t tell him why they attacked the camp. After enough beating up/threatening, the cat spills that Tigerstar had promised the rogues a place in a Clan again if they staged a fight against ThunderClan, but that’s all they know. Fireheart’s head is spinning after this revelation, but he is still desperate to cling to the idea that Tigerstar was still somehow acting in ThunderClan’s best interest. Fireheart asks them that if Tigerstar told them to stage the fight, then why did the cat kill Brindleface, Tigerstar’s Clanmate? The cat shrugs desperately and responds that Tigerstar ordered them to make it “convincing.”

Book 6

Fireheart is shaken to his core after the rogue’s revelation, all the fragile barriers of denial and optimism he’d put up in his mind about Tigerstar crumbling down. He realizes the full implication of everything— Tigerstar probably did kill Redtail like Ravenpaw said, and then Fireheart knows he killed Brokentail, and then he had the rogues attack camp so he could likely kill Bluestar, not caring about his other Clanmate casualties in the process.

But, Fireheart knows that Tigerstar can’t learn what he knows yet; not until Fireheart knows what to do with this information. Fireheart threatens to kill the former rogue if they don’t stay quiet about this conversation, and they promise they will.

A few days pass with the rogues helping and hunting for ThunderClan, and the Clan grudgingly accepts them into ThunderClan. Fireheart meanwhile, has been spending the days ruminating. Should he just reveal Tigerstar’s actions to ThunderClan and put the judgement in the paws of the Clan? Should he talk to someone one-on-one about it first? Should he talk to Tigerstar about it? 

Before Fireheart decides anything, a Gathering happens, and ShadowClan doesn’t show up. Their elderly leader, Nightstar has seemed weak lately, but an entire Clan being absent is odd. The day after the Gathering, Tigerstar announces that he is taking a patrol to ShadowClan because he is “concerned” about their neighbors. Fireheart is brought along on the patrol with a group of Tigerstar’s most loyal followers, including the former rogues.

The former Brokentail rogues guide them to ShadowClan’s camp and they find the Clan in shambles from illness, which they are just now finally recovering from. ShadowClan is far too weak to do anything to the ThunderClan cats, but they are not pleased that they are there at all. The ThunderClan cats realize that Nightstar has died, and so Tigerstar imposes himself/ThunderClan under the guise of “helping” leaderless ShadowClan. He orders the ThunderClan cats to hunt for ShadowClan before they leave. Tigerstar also orders the stronger ShadowClan warriors to leave for ThunderClan camp with him so they don’t also get sick from their other Clanmates. ShadowClan protests that they can’t leave their sick Clanmates behind, but they are convinced by Tigerstar and the former rogues (their old Clanmates) that Tigerstar has their best interests in mind. (And besides, they are too weak to fight back.) Tigerstar leaves some of the old rogues in ShadowClan to keep the sick ShadowClan cat’s “safe” (guard them) and to hunt for them, and ThunderClan leaves.

On the trek back to camp, Fireheart talks to Tigerstar and protests this course of action, saying that ThunderClan needs to worry about itself and healing from the fire, and not with ShadowClan. Besides, taking even the healthy ShadowClan warriors back to camp may risk exposing ThunderClan to illness. Tigerstar shuts Fireheart down by snapping at him to stop questioning him, and he knows what’s best for ThunderClan.

ThunderClan has mixed reactions to the new ShadowClan cats in camp. Even Sandstorm is questioning things despite her loyalty to Tigerstar. Fireheart knows now he must talk to someone about his worries with Tigerstar, but he still fears Sandstorm is too close to their leader. He seeks out Graystripe on the border, and confides everything (what’s going on currently with ShadowClan and what Tigerstar has done in the past) to him. Graystripe believes him since he’s been wary of Tigerstar for a while (he was Ravenpaw’s friend too, and wonders to Fireheart if Tigerstar could have “silenced” him.) Graystripe is very worried for his old Clan, but he tells Fireheart he can’t do anything to help. Crookedstar died and Leopardstar is now leader. Leopardstar doesn’t like Graystripe so he has to keep his toes in line if he wants to stay in RiverClan. Graystripe urges Fireheart to tell ThunderClan the truth, but Fireheart despairs that in comparison to Tigerstar, he is still a “kittypet” and the Clan will always believe Tigerstar over him. He has no witnesses for anything besides the rogues who attacked the camp, and they are likely more scared of Tigerstar than him, so they’d stay quiet. Graystripe tells him to have more faith in himself and his Clanmates.

Tigerstar begins to integrate ShadowClan into ThunderClan more, until there is no more ShadowClan. Tigerstar declares their joint Clan by a new name, TigerClan, promising a glorious new era for the forest.

Many cats are troubled by this but are too scared or too influenced by their peers to speak up. Fireheart is becoming more and more troubled as Tigerstar starts to show more tyrannical traits. It doesn’t help that Fireheart’s sleep is constantly disrupted. His dreams are haunted by annoying StarClan almost every night, sending frantic messages and pleas for him to stop Tigerstar. Despite his connection with Tigerstar, Fireheart is on board with stopping him now, but he doesn’t know how to go about it.

Fireheart tries one final appeal to his brother, hoping the cat he used to believe in was still in there somewhere. He talks to Tigerstar privately, laying his cards on the table. He tells him that he knows that Tigerstar always has ThunderClan’s best interests at heart, but ThunderClan is meant to have its own identity— they are meant to be separate Clans. It is wrong to join with ShadowClan. Fireheart begs him that it’s not too late, Tigerstar can still change course and be the amazing leader for ThunderClan Fireheart knows he can be. In response, Tigerstar’s paw flashes out, hitting Fireheart across the face so hard, he’s knocked to the ground, seeing stars. As Fireheart lies there in a daze, Tigerstar snarls that he is a great leader, and if Fireheart ever questions him like this again, Fireheart would no longer be deputy, and he’d be lucky to still even be a TigerClan cat.

Fireheart knows now it is past the point of no return. Tigerstar announces a new alliance with Leopardstar, having RiverClan join the TigerClan fold. Tigerstar seems to have realized he may have pushed Fireheart too hard, though, since he changes tactics. He is back to acting reasonable, trying to spin the action as something good for Fireheart since it will reunite him and Graystripe, and it will prevent more fighting and bloodshed between the Clans if they are united. Fireheart agrees with him, knowing he has no choice but to do so. On the inside, though, the gears have started turning. Fireheart fears he may be running out of time to reveal Tigerstar’s crimes to everyone. He is so powerful now that he is at the helm of three Clans. How could Fireheart ever hope to stop that?

After spending some time carefully judging Sandstorm’s attitude on the whole thing, Fireheart finally confides in her everything that he knows about Tigerstar. To his immense relief, Sandstorm has enough doubts in Tigerstar and enough love for Fireheart by now that she believes him and is horrified. She wants to announce everything to everyone immediately, but Fireheart tells her that they need to be careful since Tigerstar is so powerful with so many allies (Leopardstar and the former rogues mostly.) Sandstorm points out that Fireheart used to be Tigerstar’s most staunch ally, so, like him, cats may change their mind if they trust them enough to tell them the truth. 

Fireheart finally agrees with Sandstorm, but he thinks they still need to gather more supporters before they say anything, just in case. The pair (plus Graystripe in the old RiverClan camp) start looking around for more disaffected cats. They are easy to find in ShadowClan, Russetfur emerging as the natural leader of the group, and Graystripe has some luck with a few in RiverClan as well. However, Fireheart and Sandstorm are having a lot of trouble trying to navigate their Clanmates who are naturally the most loyal to Tigerstar.

Meanwhile, Tigerstar continues to escalate. He announces his plan to unite all the Clans in TigerClan, and starts threatening WindClan to join them or else. Regular battles against WindClan begin, but Tallstar learned from Brokenstar and WindClan turns to guerrilla warfare to survive. WindClan moves completely underground in the tunnels, where no other Clan can follow or find them. They only come out when it’s safe to hunt or to launch winnable attacks against smaller TigerClan patrols before retreating back into the tunnels. 

Tigerstar grows increasingly frustrated and angry at WindClan’s holdout. WindClan’s ability to navigate through the tunnels and appear seemingly everywhere throughout the forest is also making him paranoid. This just gets worse when Tigerstar catches wind of the stirring rebels. He starts capturing and killing “traitors” (although his focus is suspiciously focused on half-Clan cats.) This includes RiverClan’s former deputy Stonefur (who was really in the forming rebel group) but also cats Tigerstar just does not like, or Tigerstar finds rude/spoke out of turn. Not long after the executions begin, Tigerstar also orders Mistyfoot, Graystripe, his kits, and Russetfur to be imprisoned for treason. It is obvious that they will all be executed.

Fireheart finally decides he cannot wait any longer. He sends Sandstorm to take a desperate message to WindClan to ask for their support, and tells the rest of the rebels to ready themselves. As Tigerstar assembles all of TigerClan to hold the trials/executions of the prisoners, Fireheart jumps forward to interrupt Tigerstar’s rant about the traitors. In a heartbroken speech, Fireheart announces all of Tigerstar’s crimes, accusing Tigerstar as the real traitor and tyrant. Fireheart says that he used to admire Tigerstar so much, but he has spent seasons lying to him, and ThunderClan, and everyone. Tigerstar has betrayed the very nature of the Clans by attempting to conquer them all and killing his Clanmates, and must be stopped. Once Tigerstar recovers from the shock of Fireheart suddenly standing against him, he snarls for someone to seize his brother. But as Tigerstar’s loyalists head towards Fireheart, the rebels leap from the crowd to protect him, yowling for the rest of the cats to join them in overthrowing Tigerstar. 

Absolute chaos breaks out, with some cats joining fighting on the side of rebels, others staying loyal to Tigerstar, while others simply flee, not wanting to be in the fight at all. It is brutal, with Clanmate against Clanmate fighting at times, and neither side making much progress until slowly it seems the Tigerstar loyalists are gaining the upper hand. But, the tide is turned as Sandstorm arrives with WindClan in tow for back-up. 

A bloodied and injured Tigerstar finds Fireheart in all the fighting, determined to kill him for causing all this. But, Fireheart doesn’t attack, instead telling him to end it and order his loyalists to stop. The fighting is only hurting everyone, with Clanmate against Clanmate, and TigerClan is now outnumbered and has clearly lost. Tigerstar furiously snarls that he hasn’t lost until they’re all dead, and he’s lost every nine of his lives. Tigerstar launches himself at Fireheart, and they fight. Fireheart is unable to overpower his brother alone (for emotional reasons but also just because Tigerstar is a beast even when injured) but Sandstorm and Russetfur come to his aid and together they kill Tigerstar. The fighting ends with his death and the capture of Leopardstar, who remained loyal to him. 

Once the dust settles a grateful ShadowClan goes home, making Russetstar their new leader. Leopardstar is exiled, and Mistystar takes her place as leader of RiverClan. ThunderClan tries to piece themself back together after Tigerstar’s death, and despite it all, Fireheart still grieves for his brother. Fireheart goes to the Moonstone, where StarClan thanks him for righting the wrongs of his father and saving the Clans. Fireheart retorts that he didn’t do it because of StarClan’s prophecy, but he did it because protecting his Clanmates was the right thing to do. But, Fireheart still believes that cats should be free to make their own destiny regardless of what StarClan says. Despite Fireheart’s back talk, StarClan still grants him his nine lives and it concludes with Firestar becoming leader of ThunderClan.

And that’s the end! I’m curious to hear any thoughts on this, so leave a comment if you’d like. And, by the way, I don’t think I’ll ever write any fanfic for this AU myself, but if this inspires you to want to create something, go for it! Just please credit me in someway if you stick really closely to my outline, and let me know about it regardless because I’d love to see it :) 

[hunterevie]

I don’t think this is my best work but it’s very very cute.

I also wanted to share for Misha’s 50th. Happy Birthday to him, I’m sure he’ll have a blast.

Story - Cas’s first birthday

Pairing - Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating - Teen

Word Count - 2179

Summary - Dean and Cas have been in a committed relationship ever since they saved Cas from the empty. They’re happy in their new found lives as boyfriends, and enjoy every moment together. However, Dean feels there is something missing for Cas.

A birthday.

He decides to throw his boyfriend a birthday party, believing it’s only right now he is living among humans. But he has an ulterior motive for that special day as well.

“Dean, what the hell are you doing?” Sam asked as he wandered past for a third time with a new box. His actions seemed to be annoying his brother’s attempts to do research. After walking past with the first box, Sam peered at him, head resting on his hands, pen tapping on the page until he had left the vicinity. The second, a huff of irritation that he disturbed him again. It took only three boxes for him to finally speak out.

The man really did have a low tolerance sometimes.

“Getting ready for the party.” Now Sam sat up a bit more, focus no longer on the book but his brother instead. Wondering what the hell he was talking about. Their gaze held for a moment.

“Party? What party?” Finally, he asked the question rather than continued to stare at him like he was a weirdo who had lost his senses.

“Cas’s birthday party.”

“Why are we having a birthday party for Cas when he doesn’t have a birthday?” Of course Sam would let a little detail like Cas not being born ruin the whole birthday party idea. Sometimes he just didn’t know how to have fun.

“Because…he’s my boyfriend and I wanted to do something nice for him.” It wasn’t enough. The response was a raised eyebrow, before Sam shifted a little. Relaxing against the back of the chair, arms folded as if awaiting an explanation.

“Okay, but why a birthday party?” Why not? Why shouldn’t he be able to throw the man he loves a birthday party? Yes, he wasn’t born in the traditional sense, but he’s been reborn several times after his deaths. It was only right that he received some kind of celebration.

“He always showers me with gifts on my birthday and I can’t do the same for him. So, I wanted to give him a day that was all about him.” There seemed to be a softening of Sam’s eyes when he said that, as if thinking it was quite sweet. But it was true, ever since they begun their relationship, Cas had been such a loving boyfriend. He would always ensure that his birthdays were memorable. Loads of gifts; his favourite food and drink; all his friends gathered in one place. It was only right he did the same for him.

“That’s lovely Dean. Why today though?” The fact Sam forgot the importance of the date upset him a little, then again, he guessed it was always more important to him.

“It’s…the anniversary of when we bought Cas back from the empty.” There was a realisation in Sam’s eyes, making them go wide. Now he was sitting forward, running his hands through his hair as Dean looked away and down to the box. This was exactly why he didn’t mention it to Sam. Firstly, because he thought his brother would call him an idiot. Secondly, because he knew he’d feel bad about remembering the anniversary of them saving Cas. Now he thought about it, maybe this whole endeavour was a bit silly. Did Cas really want a birthday party? Or even to have a birthday.

“Maybe this was a mistake.” Before he was able to turn back and take the box back to Baby, his brother sprung up. Closing the distance and grabbing the item out his hands.

“Nope, this is a nice idea. We’re doing this. Come on, I’m going to help you.” Sam was moving towards the kitchen as he spoke, the research he had been working on suddenly forgotten. Dean held back, wondering whether this was really the best use of his brother’s time when there were monsters out there ready to be found. Realising he wasn’t following, Sam turned back, head cocked as he looked at Dean. “Don’t worry about the research. I needed a break anyway, and nobody is in any immediate danger. Let’s go throw Cas an awesome party.” Fears assuaged, Dean smiled at his brother and followed him. Happy to know that the younger Winchester was on board with his plans.

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

They worked throughout the day. Sam decorating the kitchen and the dining areas, whilst Dean focused on making the cake. Whilst Cas was still an angel, and often didn’t eat as it wasn’t something that he needed to live, there was one thing he did enjoy the taste of.

Honey.

For some reason the sweetness of the food was addictive for his boyfriend, and he would often have it. So, Dean resolved that would be the flavour of his cake. In his searching he managed to find a Greek Honey Cake recipe with Honeyed Ice Cream, perfect for his boyfriend.

As the day drew on, their guests begun to arrive for their small gathering. Helping Sam with the rest of the decorations, getting the plates and cutlery together. Helping to put out the food for the humans who would need to eat. It was quite late in the afternoon when there was a buzzing on his phone, a message from Cas.

“Guys, he’s just outside. Get into your places.” Dean announced to the room after checking the message. When he spoke to Cas earlier in the day, he asked him if he could use the bunker door like a normal person. Although his boyfriend was a little confused as to why, Cas ultimately agreed. Which Dean was thankful for. The surprise would be ruined if he randomly popped into the kitchen without any warning.

Well…it would be more of a surprise for them rather than him.

“Okay, hiding places. Jack, you know what to do with cloaking everybody.” Thankfully, Jack had agreed to help try and hide everybody from Cas. Although his powers had been squiffy since coming back from the empty, he still had concerns he would still be able to hear the guest’s physiology. Thankfully Jack could stop that.

After turning off the lights, he left the kitchen. Heading towards the entrance of the bunker. The loud clunk of the door opening and shutting made Dean redouble his efforts, wanting to get to Cas before he got too close to the kitchen. As he ascended the spiral staircase, his boyfriend stopped, looking down at him, a tiny hint of confusion in his eyes.

“Hey sweetheart, how was your trip?” Once he was finally at the top with him, he threw his arms around Cas’s body, pulling him in so they could share a gentle kiss. The angel reciprocated, hands holding onto his sides tightly, but no longer too hard so they would bruise. It had taken a while for him to realise his strength, but thankfully he now understood enough to not accidentally hurt Dean.

“It was okay. I didn’t find anything of use out though.” The response as they pulled apart. Those beautiful blue eyes went soft as they stared at one another. “I missed you the whole time though.” That made his heart melt, he had missed his angel to. Every minute they were apart he would just ache to be in his arms again. Wishing that he would be home soon, and this trip was no exception.

“I missed you too sweetheart. You know I always miss you.” They lips met again in another slightly longer kiss, before they drew away. Wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads pressed together as they just enjoyed their moment for a little while longer. “You’ve had a long day, let’s get downstairs.” After they pulled apart, Dean grabbed Cas’s hand and led him down the stairs. Thankfully, Cas didn’t seem to have been tipped off to what was happening, which he was grateful for. Maybe he’d be able to pull off this surprise after all.

As they made their way further into the bunker, Dean dragged his boyfriend towards the kitchen. He could feel a slightly tensing in Cas’s hand, almost as if he was silently asking what Dean was doing. But rather than argue, he allowed himself to be led there. As he turned on the lights, their small group of friends jumped out from their little hiding places, yelling surprise at a perplexed Cas, who looked over to Dean for clarity.

“Dean, what is this about?”

“It’s a birthday party. I wanted to celebrate the year anniversary of bringing you home, so what better way…than a birthday party. For your…rebirth.” Those gorgeous blue eyes went so tender as Dean said that, a thin film of moisture covering to make them almost look crystal. Cas wiped away a tear that had decided to escape, turning away from Dean, laughing briefly before giving his boyfriend that eye contact, he adored most in the world.

“This is wonderful Dean, I love you so much.” They connected again, lips meeting in a chaste kiss before Cas turned to his family. A broad smile on his lips. “Thank you all so much.” All concerns that Cas wouldn’t want the party were gone at that moment. Really, Dean didn’t know why they hadn’t done this sooner for his Angel.

“So erm…let’s get some cake and have some fun.” A cheer followed as Sam said those words, everybody in the room on board with the idea. Cas held Dean’s hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing gently before mouthing ‘thank you.’ They shared one last tender kiss, before turning their attentions to their guests.

It was a couple of hours into the party, after Cas had opened his presents, and everybody had eaten and drunk too much, that Dean stood up in the middle of the room. Tapping a spoon against his glass to get everybody to pay attention. Eventually the murmurings in the room died down, the gaze of all turning to Dean.

“I have a speech to make on Cas’s first birthday.” In the corner, he heard Sam muttering to Jack, claiming that ‘this was going to be good.’ The hard glare he presented to his brother was enough for the younger Winchester to hold his hands up, a silent apology for being a bit of an ass. As he turned back to the room, he could feel the perspiration start to leak through his shirt as he became more nervous.

But he was determined to get through it.

“Castiel, when we first met in the barn all those years ago. I have to admit, I found you so weird.” There was a slight chuckle in the room, his boyfriend smile softly also. It calmed him down a little. “There you were, telling me you were some angel of the lord, and I didn’t know what to think. For a long time, you infuriated me. Always popping in when you wanted; getting in my personal space; not getting any of my pop culture references,” briefly he stopped, remembering those times. How adorable he found him, even if he was also annoying at the same time, “but then, something changed.

“Every time you left, I…I ached for you to come back. To visit me and spend time with me on hunts, or to watch stupid films. I always missed you when we were apart. When you died…” Again, he paused, unable to continue for a second. The idea of Cas’s death too much for him. It took a couple of seconds for him to settle enough to continue. “When you died…my heart shattered, and it only ever repaired when you came back to me. Each time you came back from your death, my love for you just grew with every heartbeat.

“Cas, I will always love you, and when we got you back that final time from the empty, I knew I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. So…I’m asking you today, will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?” As he sunk to the floor, box in hand, it felt a long way down for his 45-year-old body, somehow he managed it without making an ass of himself. Once there, he opened the box, a beautiful white gold ring with turquoise gems sat in the centre. Cas’s hand went to his mouth, as if shocked that this was really happening to him.

“Yes, Dean…yes. Yes, I’ll be your husband.” In his happiness, Dean jumped up off the floor, pulling Cas in for a bruising hug as the angel cried into his neck. Holding on tightly whilst their friends made adoring noises in the background. After the initial embrace, Dean grabbed Cas’s hand, sliding the ring onto his finger, a sign of their everlasting commitment to one another. Before they shared a loving kiss in front of those they loved most in the world.

From that moment on, the 20th August would forever be Cas’s birthday, a reminder of the date he was saved from his eternal hell in the Empty. But it would be remembered for more than that. It would be remembered as the day Dean finally gave himself to the angel for the rest of the eternity.

And Cas finally found his true happiness.