#If I really enjoy a certain prompt I might even color or shade it a bit

[crushzone]

All your drawing requests are really giving me a range of things to practice, it’s been so much fun drawing them and I can’t wait to share it with you.

My requests are still open, feel free to shoot me an ask with what you’d like to see me draw.

Doodle request info.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

silly soulmate au prompt: the characters can see all colors except for the one of their soulmates eyes until they meet them? (from @virgeandhis-pocket-protector)

@virgeandhis-pocket-protector hi :)

Over The Rainbow (1/4) - Patton

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Reds oranges and pinks almost always took centre stage in his drawings and paintings - after all, they were the only colours Roman could see, but the backgrounds were always made up of shades of grey - for him - that would be bright, vibrant colours for everyone else. They represented how he saw the world, and being honest… Roman was a little scared for it to change.

Later on, he would wonder why he worried.

He saw blue first.

----

| Ao3 | Next Chapter -> |

Fic Warnings: Nothing overarching aside from Remus being himself - any chapter-specific warnings will be in the notes.

Pairings: DLAMP, platonic creativitwins.

Notes:

This one got away from me a little and now I have a whole college/soulmate au. oops?

I've sat down and written almost 5k in one session... oops???

Anyway, this is eventual DLAMP! Each chapter we get a new soulmate added to the pile :))

I really hope you enjoy!

----

Roman couldn’t see colour. 

That was a common soulmate tell, and he knew it was a soulmate tell and not regular colourblindness because he coud see pink and red just fine. 

What was odd about Roman was just how many colours he couldn’t see. 

He’d been drilled enough by his family and friends - and even a colourblind specialist to make sure this wasn’t just regular colour blindness - to determine which colours he couldn’t see, which was… most of them.

They’d determined he must have at lest two soulmates - if both of them happened to have heterochromia - or at lesat five if they didn’t. There was always the chance for there to be more than that, considering many people had the same eye colours. Though having five was rare enough anyway. Even having two soulmates was rare enough. 

Roman didn’t know how to feel about it. Not entirely. 

He was excited to meet his soulmates - of course he wss! He was Roman, for goodness sake, he wrote romantic poems in hopes that he might recite them to his soulmates whenever he was to meet them. He read romance novel upon romance novel that included soulmates meeting in wondrous ways, he was so excited to meet them. 

Especially the ones with Violet and Yellow eyes, because those certainty weren’t common eye colours - hell, even the doctor had been surprised - by the yellow especially, since purple was at least possible if not rare. 

So yes, as Roman prepared to move states for college, he was excited to find his soulmates. 

But he had also… struggled. 

Roman was an artist. People told him he had a talent with pencils and paints. He loved putting paint down on a canvas, creating shapes and patterns with his brushes - and he’d found a way to make colourblindness almost part of his brand. 

Reds oranges and pinks almost always took centre stage in his drawings and paintings - after all, they were the only colours Roman could see, but the backgrounds were always made up of shades of grey - for him - that would be bright, vibrant colours for everyone else. They represented how he saw the world, and being honest… Roman was a little scared for it to change. 

Later on, he would wonder why he worried. 

He saw blue first. 

—

In college Roman was sharing a dorm room with his twin brother. He’d considered when applying that rooming with a stranger might be a good idea - a way to make a friend, or maybe even meet a soulmate if he was lucky - but in the end he’d backed out. He was glad Remus was coming to college with him, and while he was near certain that sharing a bedroom with his brother wasn’t going to be amazing, it would be… better, than a complete stranger. 

He’d immediately gone about applying for jobs on campus - god knows he needed the money - and that’s where he’d come across Blue, or as he now knew them, Patton. 

It was a rather sunny Saturday morning, and he’d been invited to a campus cafe for an interview after he’d submitted his application a few days ago. The place was nice - Roman had no idea if the walls were actually grey, or if they were just painted a colour he couldn’t see, but it was nicely decorated and smelled like fresh coffee and spice - as a coffee shop should. 

The person behind the counter was currently wiping down the espresso machine - the morning rush had died down by now so the shop wasn’t so busy. They had curly hair that brushed their jaw in a pale grey - Roman couldn’t know what colour it really was, but he suspected blonde from the lightness. They were turned away from him now, but Roman couldn’t help but still think they were pretty.

“Excuse me?” Roman said as he approacthed the counter, “I have a job inter- holy shit!”

“Language!” The person with sparkling blue eyes seemed to say almost on instinct, before gasping in surprise, “You’re orange!” 

“What- oh! Yes! You’re blue!” Roman said, face breaking into a bright smile as he blinked his amber eyes, “And so are the walls in here, oh my goodness!”

The barista - who’s nametag read ‘Patton’ leant across the counter, reaching for him, and Roman stepped closer to take his hands, “This is amazing! I didn’t expect to meet you here - oh! I’m Patton, um, I’m majoring in children’s education, and, uh, uh, what else? Well obviously I work in this shop-”

Roman chuckled, “Easy there - I’m sure we can get to know each other properly soon? I’m Roman, uh- do you have a napkin?”

“Yes, why?” Patton asked, passing him a napkin, on which Roman wrote down his name and phone number in sparkly red gel pen - he carried it everywhere, just in case. 

“I have a job interview I really need to get to,” Roman said, “But here, take this, and we’ll get coffee soon, yeah?”

“Absolutely! Oh I’m so excited - wait - you’re the guy here for the job interview? Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! I’ve made you late!”

Roman shook his head, “No worries, really, I’m actually quite glad about this particular distraction.” 

He winked and then grinned as he watched Patton’s face go red as they started spluttering, before shaking their hands and giggling. 

“I’ll um, I’ll be back with the manager,” Patton squeaked, before running out of a side door in about three seconds flat. Roman couldn’t help but chuckle, unable to keep the grin off of his face - he’d met the first one of his soulmates! Oh he couldn’t wait to tell Remus about this!

—

“So,” Patton said, elongating the vowel as they leant forward to look at Roman, who laughed. They’d gotten coffee as promised, but decided to take a walk through the campus instead of sitting to drink it, “Have… you met any of the others yet?”

Roman took a sip from his coffee, smiling at Patton before looking up at the bright blue sky - Roman hadn’t been able to stop staring at the sky since he’d met Patton, he’d probably painted it enough to make anyone else bored of seeing it by this point. 

“Not yet,” Roman answered with a wistful sigh, “I wonder if we share them all?”

“Id hope we do!” Patton said, nearly hopping with optimism, “I mean, I know some poly people prefer like - relationship chains, but I like it when everyone’s dating everyone, so that would be my ideal - you?”

“Oh same, I think I’d get jealous if my partners were dating people I wasn’t also dating,” Roman nodded, “So we’re still looking for… maybe four people?”

“I still can’t see green, purple, brown or yellow,” Patton said, bouncing on the balls of their feet as they walked, “Oh I can’t wait to see how pretty rainbows are! Or the grass! I’ve been told the grass and trees look lovely.”

Roman couldn’t help but smile at the other’s excitement, “Me too-! I really want to make a big painting symbolising all of us once we’ve all met - using all the colours properly.”

“You paint?” Patton gasped, grabbing Roman’s arm with one hand to stabilise themself as they almost tripped, “That’s so neat! I’m so awful at art.”

“I do!” Roman nodded, before glancing up at the sky as he got another idea… for later, “I’m sure you’re not that bad?”

“I am,” Patton chuckled, “I am that bad, thanks for trying to reassure me, though.”

Roman shook his head, “Maybe I can show you some things.”

“Maybe!” Patton grinned, “That could be fun! Oh - what’s your major?”

Immediately, Roman brightened, “I’m doing theatre, with minors in creative writing and illustration.”

“Wow!” Patton gasped, “That’s a lot! You look happy with it! Are you in the theatre club? I know my roomie Remy is part of it.”

“You’re roommates with Remy?” Roman asked, shocked, “I’m genuinely surprised you’re still sane.”

“Awee c’mon, he’s not that bad,” Patton waved a hand, “I take it that’s a yes?”

“Yeah! I’ve only been to one meeting so far though.” Roman grinned, “But Remy already seems like… he had a lot of character.”

“You can say that again,” Patton giggled, “Okay - next question…. Hmm…. thoughts on cats?”

—

“Hello, I’m-”

“Patton, the soulmate Ro’s been raving about nonstop the past two weeks to the point where I actually went outside to sleep in the dumpster, yea, I know who you are,” Roman’s twin brother interrupted Patton, his giggles counteracting the words, “Not that I wouldn't’ve done that anyway.”

“Remus!” Roman hissed, “You’re gonna scare him off!”

Remus rolled his eyes, “I’m not gonna censor myself for your fucking soulamte-”

“Language-”

“-If Patty here can’t handle me he doesn’t deserve you,” Remus continued as though Patton hadn’t even spoken, he walked over and plopped down on his messy bed, “So, have you two sucked face yet or what? Any kinky shit?”

“ Remus! ” Roman cried as Patton squeaked and covered their face to hide the dark blush, Roman did nothing to hide the equally vivid blush on his own face, “ No! ”

“Awee that sucks,” Remus huffed, “What have you two even been doing if you haven’t fucked yet? It’s been like - a month.”

Roman just sighed, “Patton, you don’t have to listen to him.”

“It’s- it’s okay,” Patton said, chuckling awkwardly, “Um, yeah, it’s uh, it’s nice to meet you, Remus.”

“Wow!” Remus grinned, “This guy really is resilient! Maybe he does like you after all, Ro!”

“Of course I like Roman!” Patton yelped, “We just - we wanna wait for a relationship to happen naturally, because being a soulmate doesn’t mean you have to rush into a relationship - and besides, we still have others to meet! I don’t want them to feel left out!”

Remus made a gagging noise before rolling his eyes at Roman, “You really had to find the sunshine one first? Not like - I dunno, someone cool?”

Roman just sighed, “Patton I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay!” Patton giggled, winking at Roman before bounding over to sit on Roman’s bed across from Remus, “So, you wanna hear about the time I beat up a kid outside a Denny’s in highschool?”

“ Do I! ” Remus gasped, grinning and leaning forwards so far that Roman thought he might fall off of his bed - he seemingly pulled a bag of popcorn from… somewhere as Patton began to explain and Roman could already tell that they’d won Remus over with this one. 

Roman couldn’t help but sit down at his desk to listen intently too.

Apparently, the kid in question had been in Patton’s year - a junior, at the time - and had been bullying a few freshmen Patton had been decent friends with at the time. Somehow, Patton defending the kids had gone far enough that they ended up fighting the kid outside a Denny’s at night - and winning, mind you. The kid hadn’t done much bullying after that. 

they’d become something of an older brother figure to the younger teens in highschool - with the teachers not wanting to do anything about reported bullying, someone had to step in. Honestly, Roman was impressed by the dedication that Patton seemed to have for taking care of people.

“That,” Roman said once Patton had finished their story, face a flustered red, “Was…. so unexpected.”

“Not bad, though, right?” Patton asked, worried, “I mean - maybe I should’ve have gotten physical-”

“No man!” Remus interrupted, “That’s so fucking cool, dude, how the hell did you win a fight like that? You look like a breeze could knock you over!”

“Oh, well, I uh, I did a lot of sports as a kid - swimming, gymnastics, some soccer,” Patton listed, “So I got pretty strong, and my mums made sure I knew self defense just in case…”

“That is awesome ,” Roman grinned, “I’m glad our soulmates can count on us to protect them!”

“Aboslutely!” Patton nodded rapidly, “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt any of you!”

“Hear hear,” Roman nodded.

“If anyone hurts either of you I will rip their throats out,” Remus cackled, “With my teeth .”

“Glad to know you got our backs, buddy,” Patton said, giving Remus a thumbs up.

Yeah, Roman thought, t his might work out alright after all. 

---

tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti

| Ao3 | Next Chapter -> |

[cityandking]

2, 16, 18, 23 for dai, minah and eniko!

thanks dear!! // oc ask prompts

2. What were they like as a child? Were they quiet and reserved, outgoing, or a bit of both?

DAI — reserved, polite, respectful, shy, dutiful. even before the war he was a solemn and well-behaved kid, which honestly served him well at camp. not to say he wasn't happy, he was just sort of quiet about it MINAH — she was outoing as hell. mostly well-behaved, especially when she really needed to be, but she enjoyed having fun and pushing boundaries and having fun and trying to grow up too fast in the silly, self-important way kids do. (then she actually had to grow up and it was much less fun than she imagined) ENIKO — eniko was quiet and well-behaved but from practice, not from personality. the punishment for misbehaving was harsh and he learned quickly that it was much harder to get away with things than he thought it would be. fortunately he'd learned long before he met Sir how to make himself quiet and useful, and he cultivated those skills (or maybe it's better said that Sir cultivated them for him). it's worth noting that his best friend and first boyfriend growing up was a bright, outgoing, shining beacon of a student—maybe a little more of the kind of kid eniko would have liked to be, under different circumstances

16. How do they like their baths/showers? Hot/cold, long/short?

DAI — one of the marvels of Selto was the hot shower. not that he really has a preference—he'll take whatever's on hand and be grateful for it—but it's nice to be able to stand there and be warm and feel everything washing away. baths you kinda just. stew. MINAH — loves a hot bath, with oils and scents and soaps and lotions. there's a certain glorious satisfaction of coming out of the bathing chamber smelling like four different kinds of flower and feeling clean down the to roots of your hair which she simply doesn't get on the road. doesn't need to be too long, just has to be the sort of hot you feel down to your bones ENIKO — in canon, he prefers whatever is quickest and least vulnerable—he's killed men in the bath before and there's a certain indignity to it that kinda sticks with you. modern au nikö absolutely has a swanky AF shower with like, a rain showerhead and multidirectional streams (I also think he'd be really into a jacuzzi bathtub)

18. How has their hair changed over time? What is their favorite hairstyle?

DAI — as a young boy his dad used to do his braids, and then for a while he just wore it really short so he wouldn't have to bother with it. after the war, when his dad couldn't get around so well, he cycled through a few different styles that his dad wanted to try out, but he settled on locs in his late teens and grew them out pretty long—long enough to discover that the tips would turn white. after his first death he chopped it all off with a combo dagger and drug store razor, and its been slowly growing back ever since (I think he might go back to braids post-rez, if we survive that long). he honestly likes it short—easy to deal with MINAH — she used to wear her hair longer, the kind of length you can do really intricate hairstyles with. she cut it short when she left home and its been short ever since (though she's gotten much better at doing the cutting). she also dyes; she's naturally more blond but usually wears it in shades on the brown/red spectrum. she's done proper colors a couple times for different shows, but it's a pain in the ass to keep up. I've been thinking she might go black next, just to try it out. she likes it fresh-cut about jaw length; when it gets long enough to reach her shoulders it starts to annoy her ENIKO — his hair hasn't changed much. he started shaving the sides in his teens and still keeps that up. the only thing is that sometimes he grows it long enough to put it up in a bun (sexy) which is about where it was getting when the campaign ended. much like minah, he does his own hair. he doesn't really care how he wears it so long as he looks neat and put together

23. Where would they fall on a politeness/rudeness scale of 1-10 (1 being the most polite and 10 being the rudest)?

DAI — like, 2. he goes to great lengths and pains to be polite, but every once in a while the bitchiness peeks out. tho honestly even when he's being a bitch he tends to be kinda polite about it. MINAH — ummmm 6. she definitely can be polite, but she only cares about it to a certain extent, and after that stuff tends to slip out. she tries not to (and sometimes she feels bad about it) but what counts as "rude" in the troupe versus like, polite everyday society leaves a little to be desired. it's kinda a case of her being socialized into it and having to make the effort to socialize herself out of it again. ENIKO — 8. he doesn't give a fuck. as long as he's doing the job he's been paid for who gives a shit. he's an asshole.

[luminari-mc]

(Mammon x MC/Reader)

Prompt: "She doesn't compare to you. No one does.”

Genre: Angst, hurt(emotional)/comfort.

Pairing: GN!MC/Reader x Mammon

Summary: You and Mammon finally get to enjoy a well-deserving shopping trip just between the two of you. Just as you are about to hit the next shop, your attention is caught by an image advertised in the street.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I wanted to try my hands at a prompt that is tagged as "fluff", but of course I ended up turning it into something angsty instead. But I like sad stuff, so that still works for me.

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

It wasn't often that you got to spend time with Mammon without having any of his brothers around to bother you. But you had made it very clear to them that these few hours after school would be spent with Mammon, and only him. And for today's trip, you two had decided to go shopping in one of the busiest streets in the Devildom.

Clothes and jewelry stores, malls- you had done them all. When most of this time had been spent doing window shopping, Mammon had still insisted on getting at least a few bags of purchased goods for each of you by the end of the day. After all, what was the point of going on a shopping trip, if you didn't end up emptying your bank account only to regret it later?

And so, thanks to the demon's wonderful influence, your arms had now several bags hanging off of them. There was a certain guilt still looming over your head as you realized way overboard you might have gotten with your purchases, but Mammon promised he would take care of any financial problems you could encounter in the near future because of that. You still wondered how he was going to manage it, him being Mammon and all...

"Damn, now THAT'S what I call a good haul! Look at ya!" The white-haired demon grinned as he watch you hop out of the store, the glass doors opening automatically at your presence to let you out. He placed his wrists on his hips as his own bags dangled in his hands. "What'cha got for yourself this time?"

"They actually had that jacket I saw in a magazine the other day!" The doors closed behind you as you showed the white bag which contained the jacket. "You were right, that store was amazing. I can't believe you never showed it to me before."

"Ha! Told ya the Great Mammon knew where the best treasures were! Consider it an exclusive info, because I ain't gonna share more if any of my brothers are around next time." Mammon turned around before flipping a few of his bags over his shoulder, as you instantly began to trot to get to his level.

"What? So all this time you knew about it and you didn't tell me? Just because Asmo comes with us sometimes?" You expressed shock, right before your eyebrows joined together. "Really, as if you couldn't have told me over text or something."

"And have you go without me?! Nah, ain't gonna happen- you'd just get lost and end up in the worst store possible." Mammon glanced your way, and you could only smirk at his poor excuse.

"Sure, you're right. I forgot that humans don't have the same flawless sense of orientation as demons do." Despite your obviously sarcastic tone, Mammon didn't seem to register it as he nodded at your words.

"Exactly! Even if I gave you the full address, who knows where you'd end up? I don't want ya to come and complain to me afterwards, so it's gotta be with me or nothin'."

Even as you rolled your eyes, you noticed Mammon's face slightly turning away from yours, probably to hide the extra shade of color that had appeared on his cheeks ever so discreetly. Even when he was in his usual tsundere mood, it was endearing to see how concerned he was for your safety. And just how badly he wanted to be alone with you.

"So, where to next?" You asked without really thinking, surprising yourself that even after your extensive purchasing, you still wanted to do more. Or maybe it was that you didn't want this date to end right away. The past few weeks had been nothing but the brothers interrupting each other when any of them found themselves alone with you, so getting to spend some alone time with one of them, especially with Mammon, deserved to be extended a bit more.

"Glad ya asked!" As if a battery had been plugged into him, the demon brandished his arm into the air, the bags swinging by his face and missing him by a few inches. "I got this whole place where they're sellin' tons of stuff for pretty cheap, but it's actually authentic branded things. See, they're actually sold to that one guy who then has to sell them to another guy, and..."

As you listened to Mammon explain how he was able to find "authentic stuff" (probably not that authentic, you were pretty sure about that) for less than a quarter of its original price, your eyes found themselves drifting to an impressive ad plastered on a building the two of you were walking by. Recognizing the habit of Majolish to put their models on display for everyone to see was pretty easy, but that wasn't what caught your eye in the moment.

What tuned Mammon down completely in your ears, were the models themselves. The second born, sitting on a stool with a ripped shirt and pants, a few accessories hanging off his neck and barely covering anything of his exposed chest. He looked serious, staring straight at the objective- and at you, while the light shined on him to completely capture his frame for the picture.

And sitting down in the middle of the shot, between his legs, was a female demon wearing a red leather dress, her head resting on top of Mammon's leg. The clawed hand dangling off his knee- covered in golden rings, seemed to taunt you, as well as the piercing yellow eyes she had. Saying she wasn't beautiful would be lying. In fact, she was absolutely stunning. A perfect model for a perfect shot. Just looking at her made you feel small, like a prey that was about to be devoured by a hungry beast, the longer you were looking at her.

But that's what demons were supposed to make you feel like, right?

"Hey!" Mammon called out from the distance he had put between the two of you since you had stopped walking beside him. "Yo, MC!"

Watching as you kept staring into nothing, Mammon rolled his shoulders with a furrowed brow before walking back toward you, his head tilting to the side as he noticed your dead expression.

"Huuh hello, Devildom to MC? In which realm did ya get lost this time?"

"They replaced it." The words that left your mouth were weak, almost too silent for him to hear. It's as if all of the energy you had had evaporated from your body in an instant.

"Huh?" Mammon grew a bit concerned at this sudden change. His eyes perked up at the ad you were looking at, as you continued.

"The shoot we did together." Finally, you spared yourself from the sight, your gaze dropping to the ground. "They already replaced it with another one."

As soon as Mammon understood why *this* ad in particular seemed to be upsetting you so much, his jaw was already clenching. He remembered the stars he had seen in your eyes the previous week when you saw yourself on the Majolish ad, posing beside him- a shoot opportunity you had gotten while accompanying him after RAD a few days prior. In the middle of his shoot, he practically didn't leave any choice to his agent and had insisted that you be included in the shots to promote one of the new pieces of jewelry the brand was planning to release in the upcoming months. Asmo, who was there to witness your reaction on that day the three of you went out, had even taken a hundred pictures or so of you posing in front of the ad.

Except that, the jewelry you had posed with, was now present on the new model posing alongside Mammon.

He had made sure to engrave that smile of yours in his head at the time, even going so far as to snap a picture of your face while you were too focused on Asmo to notice him. But now, there was absolutely no trace of that same happiness anymore.

"The fuck?" The snarl that left him shook the walls of his throat. "That wasn't supposed to be advertised before another month! Why'd they have to take ours so soon?!"

"It's okay, Mammon." The demon stopped growling as his eyes lowered on the hand that was clutching his arm. "I mean... I'm not a model. Figures they wouldn't put it up for long... I-I mean, look at me. Seriously, who would want to see my face being exposed for longer than they can bare? It's hard to imagine. I wouldn't probably have sold their product anyway, so... it's okay."

The look on your face was devastating. Despite trying your best to smile, the tears pricking in your eyes were threatening to roll down your cheeks at any second. Mammon felt his heart being stabbed with a thousand invisible daggers, he couldn't bear to watch you feeling insulted in such a way.

His bags were immediately dropped onto the floor, the demon no longer caring for any of the fragile items he may have bought. His hands swung forward to cup your cheeks, forcing your face up to look at him straight in the eyes.

"Hey hey, MC. C'mon, look at me."

You did your best not to let your vision turn blurry because of the upcoming tears, and stared back at Mammon, your bottom lip trembling weakly.

"I don't care what anyone, model agents or not, can say- you'd sell a thousand more times than any fuckin' models out there, okay? In fact, you're worth even more than their stupid jewelry!"

His thumb quickly brushed away a tear from the corner of your eye as his other hand came to rest on your temple.

"They just put that one up there because that model is famous. They don't care about what's really beautiful, they just want to boast their popularity to the rest of the world." The blue of his eyes seemed to radiate the closer he moved towards you. "But I know what's beautiful. And her? She doesn't compare to you. No one does."

You could only look down in shame as his hands never left you, closing your eyes shut to let a couple tears out before Mammon grabbed a tissue from his pocket to dry your face. He patiently waited a few seconds for you to calm down, soothing you with slow caresses of your hair until your shoulders stopped shaking.

"I'm sorry..." you muttered, sniffling as you passed a wrist over your eyes. "I don't know why that upset me so much..."

"Ya got nothing to be sorry about." Mammon retrieved his hands from your head, only to grab the bags that were hanging off of your arms. He somehow manages to hold them alongside his own behind him, before wrapping the other arm around your shoulder.

"Hey, I'd call this a day. How about I prepare ya a bath when we're home? Courtesy of the Great Mammon."

You nodded, your lips arching into a smile as you grabbed the hand hanging off your shoulder. The day was cut too short for your liking, but you didn't feel up for any additional purchases, or to properly enjoy your outing anymore.

"Will you wash my hair?" You entertwined your fingers with his as he gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Pah, of course! Who else but me could do that?" He huffed through his nose, shaking his head at such an obvious question. Your laugh ringing in his ears gave him a brief moment of respite.

But the demon furrowed his brows as he lead you into your walk back home, keeping you snuggled at his side. Holding the bags in his left hand, his white nails sharply digged into his palm the more steps he took alongside you.

Making them cry? Such a big, big mistake. One thing was sure, Mammon wasn't about to let that one pass.

"But before that..." The hiss that escaped his throat went unnoticed by the two of you as your head rested against his shoulder.

"I'll have a few calls to make."

[sapphicquill]

congrats on 100 followers friend <3 may I ask for anything with ler!Fjord bc the way you wrote teasing in your TAZ fic was so good? or lee!Lucretia during the Stolen Century arc being tickled out of her antisocial little shell if you're in a TAZ mood :) -Chock

Whoops. This is what happens when my whole life gets flipped upside down and I have to move cross-country back home out of no where! Sorry for the long wait, I'm finally making headway on these fics. I owe the entirety of this fic to @ticklishnonsense's honey-tongued because that’s the Ultimate Teasey Ler!Fjord fic and to @poesparakeet-fics for the plot because my smol brain could not come up with anything good and she gave me THE GOODS. Hope you enjoy, @chockfullofsecrets!

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Fjord, Caleb Widogast

Wordcount: 2423

After everything they’ve all been through, Fjord thinks he can handle most things. Spitting up salt water in the mornings, nearly getting impaled by strangers on a regular basis, Nott rifling through his shit—while he’d rather not deal with all of that bullshit, he can and that’s the important thing.

But the crushing weight of all the damn pining happening between Caleb and Essek might be the one thing Fjord absolutely cannot handle for any longer.

It had started innocently enough. Hands brushing and secret smiles and eyes briefly meeting before diverting, full of nerves and excitement and swirling butterflies. He’d experienced some of the same with Jester, but the two wizards were starting to get insufferable. It was painfully obvious to anyone in the room that they had a thing for one another, and even if it wasn’t, Fjord had overheard Caleb whining to Jester more than once about the entire situation, so it wasn’t like he was entirely oblivious to his own crush.

But apparently perpetually sad and stuffy wizards are really bad at just admitting what was right in front of their faces. Fjord’s worried that one of them might just explode soon, and that’s the entirely altruistic reasoning that finally inspires him to insert himself into the situation.

Caleb’s problem, Fjord thinks, is one of confidence. He gets too caught up in his own keen mind, tangling everything up in his head and overthinking and overanalyzing and panicking and deconstructing until everything’s just a jumbled mess of knots. He just needs a little push is all. A little something to nudge him past the trouble that is thinking and into acting. And Fjord thinks he knows a fairly good method of encouragement.

Thus, Fjord is currently standing in the doorway of the mansion library, trying not to reveal his presence too early. Caleb is folded over a desk with a pinched expression on his face that Fjord knows by now means he’s reached some sort of roadblock in whatever he was working on. In other words: a perfect time for an interruption.

“Productive afternoon?”

It’s a testament to how close the group has gotten that Caleb only sort-of flinches at the sudden sound of Fjord’s voice.

“Ah, nein, not really,” the wizard replies as he straightens up. His back makes an ominous cracking noise as he sits up and Fjord winces in sympathy.

“Gods, then maybe it’s time to take a break, hm?”

“Ja, a break…” Caleb trails off, eyes drifting back to the scattered parchment and books on the desk. Fjord resists the temptation to roll his eyes at the utterly predictability of their headstrong wizard.

“Okay, well now I’m making you take a break, Widogast,” he says as he marches swiftly over to Caleb and practically hauls him out of his chair. Caleb, unsurprisingly, goes willingly, letting himself be shuffled over to a nearby sofa.

With a huff, Caleb sits and begins massaging his temples, willing away either a physical ache or a swirling mass of snarled thoughts and ideas. Fjord lowers himself down next to the human and pretends like he isn’t thrilled over what he’s about to do.

A comfortable silence descends then. After a few more vigorous rubs, Caleb leans his head back against the leather of the sofa and closes his eyes and Fjord figures this is the best chance to spring the trap.

Quick as a slash of his falchion, Fjord twists from his spot next to Caleb and pulls him down into a horizontal position before caging the human in from above. He hovers over the now-prone wizard and tries not to feel too smug as Caleb yelps but doesn’t move an inch to try to wiggle away.

“Scheiße, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something,” Fjord says casually as he can. Caleb gives him an exasperated look, complete with raised eyebrow and suspicious frown.

“And this ‘something’ requires you to pin me to a sofa?”

Fjord grins before scooping both of Caleb’s wrists up with one hand and pulling them above his head. Exasperation shifts quickly into a mix of disbelief, fear, and anticipation and Fjord is lucky that around his friends, Caleb wears his emotions very clearly on his face.

“Well,” the warlock starts, “I kind of figured that this particular topic would send you scampering off if I didn’t take some preventative measures.”

A fiery blush colors Caleb’s cheeks and Fjord tries not to laugh.

“And something tells me I thought correctly.”

Caleb makes a noise not unlike one Fjord’s heard from Frumpkin and finally starts to struggle lightly in his grasp, like his body is only now catching up with the rest of him. Fjord lets him, figuring that letting the wizard work himself into a bit of a tizzy will just make his own task easier. Caleb’s terribly predictable. As the human squirms minutely under him, Fjord lets his free hand curve subtly into a claw and hovers it just next to Caleb’s lower ribs.

“Now, see, I also think you might benefit from a little preemptive encouragement, because you’re the most stubborn fucker I’ve ever met when you have to talk about anything personal...”

Fjord trails off when he notices that Caleb’s eyes have locked onto his hand, mostly because he knows that the brilliant mage has connected all of the appropriate dots and will voice a protest in three, two—

“N-nein, Fjord, wait just a moment, there is no need for—”

Fjord slowly flutters his fingers, still poised a hair’s breadth from the stretched expanse of Caleb’s ribs, and Caleb cuts himself off with a hitched laugh-gasp, eyes wide as saucers.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate right now,” Fjord says, the edges of his voice tinged with a low growl as he keeps the motion of his fingers going. Caleb doesn’t really do much aside from grow ever so slightly redder in the face.

Without further preamble, Fjord finally moves his hand to meet Caleb’s torso. It’s like the wizard has been hit with a successful Thunderwave—his whole body jolts before tensing up so tightly he trembles. Continuing the fluttering from before, Fjord traces across the space between Caleb’s two lowest ribs and grins when Caleb lets out something between a giggle and a whine.

“Gods, you’re so easy to rile up, you know that?”

Caleb’s giggling picks up at Fjord’s words. He’d have pity on the wizard if it wasn’t so adorable. Still gently teasing at the softness of Caleb’s lower ribs, the half-orc leans forward until his mouth is right next to his victim’s ear.

“You’re just that ticklish, huh?”

Caleb thrashes, throwing his head from side to side so rapidly Fjord would be worried the human would hurt himself if he hadn’t watched this happen numerous times before. For good measure, he lets his fingers drift up Caleb’s ribs and lets out a small laugh himself as the giggles morph into airy, full-blown laughter. Exactly as planned.

“So you and Essek,” Fjord says casually as he straightens back up, pitching his voice a little louder to be heard over Caleb’s bubbly laughter. The wizard definitely seems to register his words if the cut-off gasp and even more desperate wiggles are any indication. Fjord laughs a little to himself at the adorable way Caleb scrunches his nose when the increased movement does little to deter his attack. Taking a little pity, Fjord pushes on, his free fingers swirling tight circles up and down Caleb’s right side.

“You know he likes you too, right?”

Fjord’s not exactly sure humans are supposed to turn that shade of red, but Jester’s got healing spells to spare right now, so he continues.

“And as amusing as it is watching you two dance around each other, it’s getting a bit old.”

“B-bitte, Fjord—!”

Caleb’s own laughter cuts off whatever plea was going to escape next. The wizard flops his head a bit side to side, like if he shakes enough he’ll clear Fjord’s words like trapped water from his ears. It’s downright precious and one hundred percent ineffective.

Adjusting his grip on Caleb’s wrists, Fjord lets his fingers trail up his captive’s ribs in the same slow pace he knows will drive Caleb up the damn wall. It’s a little impressive, actually, how easily this light tickling can take their resident wizard apart. Particularly useful at certain times. He can feel Caleb trembling under him, laughs high and desperate as the light tracing fingertips slowly migrate up to what both Jester and Molly affectionately refer to as his worst “death spots.”

“So, here’s my idea.”

His fingers flutter just below the space where his holsters normally are—fortunate Caleb feels comfortable and safe enough to remove them when at the house—and the wizard groans through his laughter.

“Either you promise that you’ll confess to Essek the next time he’s around, or I’ll just have to keep tickling you forever. How’s that sound?”

“Wh-aaat? Bitte, no, that is e-eehviil!”

“That’s kind of the point, bud,” Fjord replies around another laugh of his own. He floats his fingers up the scant few millimeters to the space between Caleb’s uppermost ribs without prompting and hopes that the wail the human lets out doesn’t worry the rest of the Nein. (It shouldn’t, not with the frequency Caleb makes noises like that.)

“I’m not letting up until you tell me the first words out of your mouth when you see Essek next are ‘Can we talk somewhere privately, Shadowhand?’” Fjord pitches his voice into a terrifically awful imitation of a Zemnian accent that has Caleb laughing, somehow, even harder. Though, on second thought, that might have more to do with the rapid little scribbles he’s got focused on the space above Caleb’s top rib than his attempt at accentwork.

Unsurprisingly, Caleb doesn’t say anything much in response, instead throwing all of his effort into laughing and squirming ineffectively. Fjord keeps a careful ear out for any hint of the safeword Jester had insisted everyone know about and respect upon pain of near-death, but the only thing coming out of Caleb is whimpered begging and a spray of foreign curses. Perfect.

Fjord takes a split second to send a silent apology to Jester, who will no doubt be massively upset she missed out on assisting Fjord with this bit of encouragement, but this was his game right now, dammit, and it was time to go for the kill.

(Would it be worth the inevitable tickling the blue tiefling would dish out later? Most definitely.)

“Alright, well, suit yourself, Widogast.”

With that, Fjord moves the tickling to Caleb’s exposed underarm and focuses the entirety of his attention on making the human melt.

With an impressive amount of core strength, Caleb attempts to jackknife in half to throw Fjord off. Fortunately, their wizard’s tricks are well known by now. Fjord barely budges as he keeps up the spidering under Caleb’s arm, letting his fingers trail just the slightest bit up the underside of Caleb’s bicep before reversing back down to the soft spot just above Caleb’s uppermost rib.

The fight drains out of the mage just as quickly as it revved up, leaving him loose and floppy and lost in the throws of his own cackling. Fjord would feel bad if he didn’t know how much Caleb was enjoying himself. Time to step things up a notch.

“You know how to get me to stop, Caleb. Do you really like the thought of me tickling you like this more than the idea of confessing to a crush you know is damn-well mutual? Really seems like it.”

More wailing, more thrashing, but still, no dice. Maybe a slightly different approach…

“Gods above, you’re just too ticklish for your own good, aren’t you?”

As always, Caleb responds viscerally to the mere word and that, of all things, seems to be the final straw.

“Scheiße, bitte! Habt mitleid! Ohhkay, I pr-promise!”

“You promise what?”

“Oh please, I caa-aan’t—!”

Fjord shifts from light tracing along Caleb’s top ribs to a solid press of his palm, steadying the human as his laughter slowly eases up. After a few gulps of air, Caleb continues.

“I will tell Essek how I truly feel when we next encounter him, I swear to you!”

“You’re absolutely promising me you’ll spill about your deep, undying love for Essek Thelyss the very moment he’s within twenty yards of you?” Fjord taunts, curling his fingers back into a claw at Caleb’s right side. The human tenses and anticipatory giggles start bubbling from him almost instantly.

“Ja, ja, I a-ahh-m!”

“Good!” Fjord says brightly, pulling his hand away from Caleb’s squirming form. He smiles down at Caleb, who looks about ready to protest the large hand still pining his wrists to the sofa, before lowering himself to speak directly into the wizard’s ear.

“And maybe after you two have worked everything out, I’ll have a little chat with Essek myself about how much you like this particular method of torture.”

Caleb looks a bit like he’s swallowed a toad.

“F-fjord, mein Gott, wait—”

“I’m sure Molly and Jester would be more than happy to help me tell him all of the best ways to tickle you senseless, hmm? They’re tieflings, you know how honest they get when tickling comes up. They’ll just gush about how much you love it when we wreck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

He isn’t even tickling him anymore, but Caleb is giggling, light and bubbly and tortured, all from Fjord’s teasing alone.

“Hell, maybe we’ll all get you the next time Essek comes by the tower. How’d you like that, him watching you get tickled by every single one of us until you cry and knowing you love every minute of it?”

Caleb’s just babbling in Zemnian through his laughter, eyes squeezed shut and a grin pulling wide at his lips.

“D’you think he’d join in if we asked him to?”

Caleb just keeps laughing. Fjord grins. Mission successful.

[alwaysbeliev]

I Can’t Lose You

Happy Valentine’s Day! This is for the @rdr-secret-cupid adventure this year. Thank you for the prompt, @bloodylove3 and I hope you enjoy!

summary: When Dutch asks you and Arthur to pretend you're married for a job, you're nervous that you won't be able to hide your feelings for the outlaw. You manage to keep it in line, but things go wrong fast.

relationship: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

word count: 3497

link on AO3

“Alright, here’s where we’ll start.”

It was mid-afternoon. The heat from the sun above was overwhelming, burning whatever it touched. Not even the shade was a relief with its cover. Animals all around were burrowed underground, hiding inside of trees, splashing around in the cool river nearby, and doing their best to stay out of direct light. You idly watched a small mouse scurry through the grass, digging at the dirt every now and then before disappearing into a hole. Quietly, you wished you were that mouse. 

For the hundredth time, Dutch was reviewing his next grand plan. There was a tipoff about a decent score, something that would help the gang move to a new camp, and it would be almost easy to pull off. Almost. But he was careful to plan, detailed to a fault, and now you had to sit through another lecture about making sure you were in the right place at the right time. He stood just inside the flap of his tent as he talked. The others were in a loose circle around him and Hosea.

You felt a drop of sweat slide down the back of your neck. What you wouldn’t give to go jump in the rushing water just a hundred feet away, even fully clothed. Imagining the relief alone made you sweat more. You could feel your skin throb, your cheeks turning red, your shirt sticking to your lower back…

“Hey!”

The sharp sound of Dutch’s voice cut through your daydream, snapping you back to reality. Others were snickering as you jerked your head over and tried to pretend you had been listening.

“As I was saying,” the man continued, “there has been a small change of plan.” 

Whoa, Dutch was changing his plan? But the score was just a week away now.

He carried on, “Arthur will be playing the part of your protective, but quiet, husband. You will need to cause a big enough distraction that we can enter without tipping anyone off. Can you handle that?”

“I thought Hosea was providing the distraction?” Your mind was turning, scrambling to remember if that was the original plan or if you were suffering from heat stroke.

“As I had said before, Hosea will be needed outside. It would seem awfully suspicious to outsiders if 5 men all seemed to suddenly rush inside together, don’t you think?”

You supposed he had a point. Outwardly, you agreed with him, but inwardly, your heart was pounding. Arthur? Husband? You barely made it through the rest of the session, managing to excuse yourself as soon as Dutch was done talking. Never before had you felt the palpitations on your chest that you did now at the thought of being with Arthur Morgan. Not just being with him, but pretending to be married. 

To say that you had a crush on Arthur was putting it lightly. From the moment you had met the outlaw, the sight of him caused your heart to race faster than his beautiful horse. You could barely speak around him, let alone carry on any conversation, and you were certain everyone in camp knew about it. Karen, Mary-Beth, and Tilly had approached you just last week to tease you about the way you fumbled over your words when Arthur asked a question. Now you had to pretend to be married?

The group dispersed as Dutch finished his grand lecture, chattering excitedly about the huge score. You felt light-headed and were rooted to the spot. Dutch was right, it should be easy, you had played the actor’s role many times before, but this… This wouldn’t be acting. And surely someone was going to notice that.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A week passed quicker than any week you’d been through before. You and Arthur had prepared a scene, practicing to get it right, and you were feeling slightly more confident. The cowboy still gave you flutters in your heart, but rehearsed lines were much easier than improvised ones, and you were positive he hadn’t seen the longing in your eyes. It was easy.

But what wasn’t easy was how inseparable the two of you were becoming. Every morning, Arthur approached you near the campfire, offering a small treat, typically a piece of chocolate or a small fruit. The first time, your cheeks had flushed hotter than the summer sun. It hadn’t improved much. You would review your plan for the score, pause for a lunch time meal, and continue in the afternoon. Arthur often seemed to have other ideas, wanting a change of scenery, and you would find yourselves a few miles from camp on some rocky outlook or on a river’s shore, just shooting the breeze while the sun seared high above. Arthur even managed to convince you to leave your horse once, riding behind him with arms wrapped around his chest, content just to be near him. 

Finally, the day arrived. The gang all arose early, gathering their tools uneasily. Nerves always ran high the day of, regardless of how much planning had gone into the score, and your stomach churned. Karen had lent a hat, Mary-Beth a beautiful dress in your most favorite color, and you felt so fluffy and over the top. When Arthur saw you, his face seemed to go slack, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“My, my, Mrs. Morgan,” he drawled, taking a few lazy steps to close the gap to you. “Aren’t you lookin’ mighty fine this mornin’.”

Pouting and embarrassed, you waved him off, brushing a tight curl over your shoulder in a weak attempt to mask the color rising to your cheeks.

“Shut up.”

“Hey, now, I’m only tryin’ to lighten the mood.” He laughed before looking somewhat sheepish himself. “Besides, you really do.”

You paused, taking in his sincere compliment.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t have time to respond as Dutch stepped out of his tent, looking the picture of graceful leadership, commanding everyone’s attention. As you turned your body towards him, you saw Arthur’s gaze lingering on your figure, the dress complementing you perfectly. You focused on tugging on your white lace gloves, trying to turn your ears where it mattered.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

“Alright, Mr. Callahan, now, here we are!”

Your voice pitched up, you pointed out the grandest building in town: the bank. Arthur guided his horse to the hitching post before hopping down, turning to help you down, your big skirt catching slightly and flouncing as your feet landed. Grinning at him, you tugged at his arm excitedly.

“Come on, darling, we gotta go get us a loan! That house ain’t gonna buy itself, you know!”

It was clear you were amusing the man at your side. Your anxiety was causing a jump in your performance, pushing you a slightly uncomfortable bit above believable, but you were pretty and young and the men were watching you. That was all that mattered.

With a grand gesture, you shoved the door to the bank open, stepping into the marbled interior with your boots clicking. The teller glanced up from whatever paperwork he was looking at. For a brief second, he studied the two of you, his eyes lingering on you in particular, before a fixed smile appeared on his face. 

“How can I help you?” he drawled. As practiced, Arthur opened his mouth to speak but you butted in before he could.

“Why, hello, Mr…?” You swept forward, extending a hand for him to shake. He glanced at Arthur in disbelief before gingerly shaking your hand.

“Mr. Monaghan.”

“Oh, Mr. Monaghan, how lovely!” You grinned widely, shaking vigorously. “Yes, me and my new husband here are looking to buy a house! Isn’t that just grand? We just got married, you know, just last week! Oh, we had the most beautiful honeymoon, didn’t we, darling? Traveled to see the ocean, oh it was gorgeous! Simply gorgeous! Have you ever been, Mr. Monaghan?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t. Not the way you planned it.

“The birds were so lovely, there were so many of them! Oh, and the food! Simply divine! Have you had seafood before? Crab, lobster, shrimp, oh it was perfect!”

As you rambled, the doors swung in again, allowing entrance to John and Javier. You didn’t spare a look for them, your energy pointed at the teller, and as planned, he didn’t seem to notice them. Your shrill voice and wild theatrics had his whole attention. You carried on as the men got into position.

“They paired the shrimp with-- What was it, my love? This wine, it was a red, wasn’t it? Or was it a white? Mr. Callahan is just hopeless about these things, you know, I’m glad I’m here to help him. Oh we had the most wonderful time together! I thought it might rain one day, there were these horrible gray clouds, but he told me not to worry, even though I wanted to, and sure enough, the sun was out by dinner time!”

The doors creaked again, allowing the last two men in, Dutch and Bill. All 5 men exchanged a look and, in one swift motion, they pulled their bandanas over their faces and drew their weapons. It was satisfying to hear the clicks of a few hammers. Your grin turned wicked and the teller suddenly realized what had happened. 

“We’ll take that loan to go, if you don’t mind.” You couldn’t help yourself. Arthur quickly stepped forward, shielding you with his body so your face was hidden, and you hurriedly moved towards the back of the men, allowing them to do what they needed. It was relatively painless and quiet, the teller moving hastily and without hesitation, filling bags with money and even allowing them access to the room with the safes. You served as lookout, casually standing at the window to keep an eye peeled for the law. Only when you heard Dutch’s signature goodbye did you turn away from it. Arthur made eye contact with you and playfully raised his eyebrows as he strode towards the door and you, ready to make for the horizon.

Without warning, the doors flew open, banging against the wall from the force behind it. Several lawmen were standing, guns drawn, ready to take out the outlaws. Instantly, shots were being fired. You didn’t know who fired first, but you dove out of the way, gripping your hat tightly so it wouldn’t be left behind. For some reason, your only coherent thought was Karen would have my hide.

Men were shouting, the smell of gunpowder filled the air. Flat on the floor, you couldn’t see anything, only heard Dutch shouting orders, police filling the streets outside, the solid sound of bullets connecting with flesh. There was nowhere to take cover. Somebody stepped on your leg and you gasped from the pain. A hand gripped your ankle and dragged you towards a wall. Panicked, you tried to scramble away until you registered Arthur’s voice trying to reassure you. 

“You boys play nice!” a deep voice bellowed from the porch. “We don’t want no hangings, now, y’here?”

“We will play nice when you play nice, Sheriff!” Dutch barked back. 

“This is a fucking massacre!” John spoke to the room at large. The men that had entered before were all on the floor, blood pooling around them, their guns laying forgotten on the wood. More were shouted outside. They were organizing to block all exits from town. There was no way you were gonna make it out now, you started to fear, and you could see the shared looks of the men with you echoing the same sentiment.

A surprised cry arose from outside as another gunshot cracked through the air. 

“There’s Mac!”

With renewed energy, everyone jumped up and sprang for the door. Feeling marginally brave, you snatched a gun from the floor, hoping you wouldn’t have to use it. Bill led the way out. Javier, John, and Dutch quickly followed, and Arthur made up the rear with you in tow, sticking to him like glue. 

The sun outside was blinding. You barely caught a glimpse of the street before you were rushed down the steps and around the side of the building. Back pressed against the wall, the pounding in your head started blocking out your hearing, and you only felt the vibrations in the air and under your feet. Even with all of Dutch’s careful planning, you were still trapped in this mess…

Arthur shouted your name. He stood, almost pressed to you, eyes burning. You snapped to attention, gun at the ready.

“We gotta make a break for it! Be ready on my count!”

It was all you could do to nod. You saw his horse in your peripheral, antsy and pawing, but waiting. You tried desperately to calm your breathing and gathered your skirts up out of your way. At the mark, you all ran, each in slightly different directions to mount their horses, spurring before fully mounted. Arthur was first and you scrambled after him, latching onto his arm and using the momentum of his horse to swing your leg over, skirts be damned. With a sharp cry, he urged his horse forward and away from town.

For a brief moment, you were free. Pounding hooves sounded behind you but were fading fast. The shouts of men continued to rip through the air, but you realized that they, too, were slowly growing faint.  And then a stabbing pain exploded in your thigh. A scream escaped before you could stop yourself. Trained well, Arthur didn’t stop his horse, but he tried to see what had happened, calling back to you with increasing desperation. You had been shot. The panic, the shortness of breath, and now the pain was too much. In a surprisingly short matter of seconds, black filled your vision and you were gone.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The rustle of the trees. The soft sound of running water. Crackling of a campfire. Low voices outside your tent. Your hair brushing your face. Dull and throbbing pain in your leg. Heaviness in your chest. And, finally, the realization you were laying on a cot and not your usual bedroll. 

Slowly, your eyes blinked open. This definitely wasn’t your tent. These weren’t your blankets. Only the soft glow from the fire and a few lanterns shone on the one canvas wall. It was enough light to see that this was Arthur’s tent, the small table with his journal and flower, his photographs on the wagon side. His smell on the blankets. You breathed in deeply.

A snort by your feet caused you to startle. Sitting up slowly, you saw Arthur slumped in a chair, his hat drawn over his face, arms crossed as he breathed evenly, the occasional snore breaking the silence. An strong and sharp pain made you hiss and, in turn, woke the outlaw from his slumber. 

“You’re awake,” he mumbled, barely awake himself as he sat up. 

“Regrettably…”

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Honestly? Not great,” you said, chuckling a little. “But I’ve had worse. Why am I here?”

“Thought you might like a real bed. Well, realer than your bedroll. We can put you out for the wolves, if ya like.” His teasing tone was back, but it was more strained than normal. He looked absolutely exhausted. 

“No, this is fine. It’s… nice.”

Silence fell again. You stared at a thread on the sheet while Arthur stared at you. Usually there was a party the night after a big score, everyone drinking and being merry. There was a strange lack of boisterous laughter, though, and you had the weird feeling it was your doing. 

“How did we make out?”

“Oh, we escaped,” he said, leaning back in the chair again. “But we’re trapped here awhile, there’ll be law crawlin’ everywhere for a few weeks.”

“How much?”

Not even your fixation on the money got him to crack a smile.

“Dunno.” Shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve been in here, makin’ sure you don’t die.”

Arthur’s behavior was bizarre. You hadn’t seen him behave this way when another gang member was injured, not even when John had nearly been lost last year, and it was starting to worry you. Was there something else you didn’t know about? Was your injury more serious than he was letting on? For a moment, you studied his face, the ache and shadows clear in the weak light, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the barest sign of a light track down his cheek.

“Arthur…” 

It was such a soft whisper, you weren’t sure he had heard you at first. He lifted his eyes to meet yours. You tried desperately to read him for a second before finally caving.

“Arthur, what happened? Did someone not make it?”

At long last, he managed a short huff of air that might be mistaken for laughter. Shaking his head, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he ran his hands across his face, removing his hat and setting it on his wardrobe. When he looked at you again, he actually had a small smile, and relief had replaced what you had mistaken for grief.

“No, no, nothin’ like that.”

“So what’s the matter?”

He tilted his chin up, exhaling long and low towards the sky, seemingly contemplating something. It was quiet for an achingly long time. Another deep sigh and he brought his chin back down, meeting your gaze steadily.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” he murmured. “I heard the shot, your scream… I thought you were gone for sure.”

Okay… you thought, still bewildered. We’ve almost lost people before. What makes me special?

“And I didn’t get the chance to tell you…” You had seen him struggle with words in the past, but this was different. It was almost as if his voice was physically fighting him on saying anything. “I couldn’t stand to lose you, truth be told. You mean-- That is, you’re very important-- That’s, well…”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you realized what he was trying to say. You didn’t dare utter a word, hoping, begging him to just spit it out. You weren’t positive this was happening, as now you were almost certain you had actually died and this was the beginning of your personal heaven.

“I can’t lose you, darlin’.”

The tears spilled over and dripped down your cheeks. You couldn’t even feel the pain in your thigh as it felt like a major weight had been lifted off of you. Arthur was startled, concern growing once more on his face at your tears, but when you started to grin and laughter bubbled up, he relaxed and looked as embarrassed as a school boy, dropping his eyes and smiling himself.

“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me to hear,” you finally said, shaking your head at the silliness of it all. “I can’t lose you, either, Arthur. You mean the world to me.”

Slowly, the cowboy rose from his seat and approached the edge of the cot. You gingerly shifted yourself over to allow him to sit beside you, and he took the opportunity. You soaked in the other’s presence for just a moment. With the softest gaze you had seen from him, Arthur returned his attention to you. He lifted a hand to cup your face, his rough thumb stroking your cheek as he drank in your features, looking truly content for the first time. Gracefully and ever the gentleman, he tilted your face up to meet his as he carefully kissed you. It was light at first. He was testing the waters, not pushing too fast. But when you met him eagerly, he leaned in, hard. 

You didn’t dare breathe for the duration of the kiss, your heart a frightening combination of pounding and not beating at all. The taste of whiskey lingered fresh on his lips and left your mouth tingling. When Arthur pulled away, you shifted forward slightly, not wanting it to end. But, courteous as always, he pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead and then sat back again. Your eyes flickered all over his face. You were still unsure if you could catch your breath.

“Wanted to do that for a long time,” he muttered. All you could do was nod. Wow…

“Can you stay with me?” you blurted out. “Tonight?”

“O’ course,” he agreed. He tugged his boots off as you scooted as far over as you could, lifting the sheet for him to crawl into. Warmth radiated from his skin and it was like stepping into a comfortable bath as he wrapped his arms around you. You sighed into his chest, drinking in his smell with your face buried in him, hands gripping his shirt. The dull sting in your leg was in the background of your mind. It didn’t matter to you, though; you were safe here. And this wasn’t going to end any time soon.

[nerdy-emo-royal-dad]

I dare you to write sad logan crying into stuffed animal but then stuffed animal hugs back and then he realizes it's either roman or remus-

HEY FOLKS! So yeah that took forever and I have four more prompts. Anon, I do apologize greatly for how long this took. Going to school in your country’s top university apparently means no time for anything else eyyy (I’m dying someone punch college in the face for me). Anyway aaaa I hope you still enjoy it even if took so long. Love y’all!

Feelings of the Mind, Thoughts of the Heart

Warning/s: None but feel free to inform me of you see one

Word Count: 1679 words

Pairing/s: Platonic/Romantic Logince (Logan x Roman) (totes up to you)

~~~

Logan would rather fade than admit that he was this close to breaking. 

He didn’t mean the kind that made his face heat up or his nostrils flare while his taut knuckles shook at his side and his teeth clashed with each other. Though he might have just preferred that. Unfortunately when Logan said “breaking,” he meant it in a way that left an uncomfortable mini-hurricane wreaking havoc within his ribcage while he tried his hardest to contain it inside. 

Logan’s entire frame shook from the effort it took to maintain his composure in front of his fellow sides; not that they were paying attention in the first place, anyway. He didn’t really quite understand why he was having such a reaction right now when this blatant disregard for him, this… this ignorance was something he encountered every single day.

And so he left.

He was willing to bet that no one even noticed him sinking out. If they did, They probably would have just chalked it off to his reputation for having such a short fuse. He could barely make out the room around him as he blindly made his way towards the bed; the tears welling up in his eyes doing nothing to help his vision. He never remembered the bed being that far from his door before, nor his floor being carpeted and soft enough that it silenced his footsteps, but that was the least of his concerns.

If he could scold himself, he would. He felt pathetic and weak and emotional and disgusting as he closed his eyes and released the contents of his tear ducts the second he came into contact with the unrealistic softness of the bed. Eyes still wrenched shut, Logan leaned forward, desperate to find any form of solace or comfort; or at the very least anything he could use to muffle his cries. He felt very much like the polar opposite of logic as his damp forehead finally came into contact with an unidentifiable something, his glasses pushing uncomfortably against the frame of his eyes and the bridge of his nose. 

His vision stayed dark as he forced himself to take any semblance of logic he could. He clasped a hand over his mouth as he buried his face into the smooth, fragrant fabric of this… pillow? Curtain? Blanket? Sheet? Stuffed toy? He wasn’t exactly certain. All that mattered was that he was Logan. Logical, calculated, reserved, put-together, proper, objective Logan; and crying was not something the embodiment of logic should be doing. So he stayed there doing his best to muffle his cries, never daring to open his eyes. He hiccupped, gasped, and heaved in the lowest volume he could. He fisted his hands on the sheets below him and held his mouth as tight as he could. 

Logan tried remembering methods of calming an individual down. They could point out all his errors, but he would never allow them to take his identity from him. He scoured the filing cabinets of his mind ‘till he found a suitable suggestion. Focus. He needed to focus. Logan zeroed in on the feeling of the cloth in his hand. He let it slide through his fingers as he crumpled it, allowing his fingertips to recognize the material -- satin. Wait… satin? His sheets weren’t satin. His sheets were cotton. The thin kind of cotton that felt cool against his skin, comfortable and not all at once. 

He internally winced as a particularly loud sob pushed past his lips, and so he put his focus back on the softness he was leaning on. It simultaneously felt all too cold but oh, so warm. It smelled of flowers; of chrysanthemums and daffodils swaying along a gentle breeze. He took the hand on his mouth away and placed it on the material in front of him. He rubbed the cloth on his fingertips and identified it as...silk. But that… didn’t make sense. Not at all. As he brought up hypotheses in his head and sifted through possibilities, he felt a little pinprick of dread. He looked back on all the little pieces. The carpeted floor, the distance of the bed, the satin sheets and the silky material of--

All the thoughts died down like a flat-lining cardiogram when he felt a tentative hand rub against his back.

Logan dared to lift his forehead off the comfortable something to open his eyes, breath hitching in the process, and all he saw was red. There were many, many shades of red. There was maroon, rose, cherry, garnet, scarlet, currant, and a whole variety more that probably didn’t even have proper names. But Logan recognized the rich crimson of this red all too well; knew how the familiar color matched perfectly with the smoothness of the silk. He’d be an imbecile if he didn’t recognize Roman’s sash by now.

And maybe he already was, considering he made it this far without realizing he sank down into the wrong room. And maybe he was more than just an imbecile for forgetting that Roman had not been summoned for this session, and that’s why he wasn’t up there with the others at the moment. Maybe he was positively beyond an imbecile if he’d been cryi-- trying to stop himself from crying against Roman that entire time.

Logan shot up, consequentially bumping Roman’s hand away, his probably red eyes lookin at the prince’s own wide irises, creased forehead, and damp sash through fogged up spectacles.

“Roman! I-- I deeply apologize. I had not realized-- I should’ve checked first-- It was faulty of me to sink down into the wrong room I apologize greatly, I--”

His stream of words and possibly his airflow were cut off by the same hand coming to rest on Logan’s shoulder and Roman’s eyes looking back at him with such an indistinguishable amount of emotion locked up inside the hues of his iris.

“Logan, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Really.”

He… what? He didn’t mind what?

“I-- I don’t understand--”

Roman’s brows only furrowed further and the hand squeezed his shoulder just the slightest bit harder. “Logan. Let go.”

For a long stretch of time they simply sat facing each other, one cross-legged on the bed and the other with his knees folded in; waiting for… anything to happen. But nothing needed to happen because the sheer weight of Roman’s words digging into Logan’s chest and the warmth of his hand seeping through his black polo was enough to break cracks into the meticulously put up walls around his heart.

It started with a singular sob and a hand unconsciously flying to his mouth. When Roman gently took that hand off Logan’s lips and held it within his own, the walls crumbled down.

This cry was far from the soft, held-back sobs from minutes ago. This one was loud, messy, hoarse, pitiful, and ugly. Before he knew it, his eyes were back closed as he shuddered and snivelled before the fanciful side who was more than willing to take the logical side in his arms. 

Roman scooted closer to Logan, allowing him to melt and break within the embrace, both uncaring for the mess it’ll leave on the prince’s clothes. He continued to run his hands in circles on Logan’s back, making every hicc and whimper heard. It terrified Logan, honestly; opening up to someone like this, making every vulnerability known and presenting his lowest points for all the world, or Roman in this case, to see. The terror was suffocating, the shame was unbearable, and the regret was overwhelming, but Logan couldn’t stop the tears even if he tried.

A long, soft, gentle shush came from Roman as one of his hands lightly set on the back of Logan’s head; his fingers absentmindedly playing with the strands. The shush soon turned into a low hum, and Logan found himself drowning in the waves of Roman’s voice. He recognized the tune, even as he bawled the eyes out of his muddy brain.  It was a piece by Chopin-- Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2. The dynamics and the anatomy of the piece often took Logan’s breath away as it did, but something about the fact that it was Roman, Roman who always seemed to strike every chord and make anything sound infinitely more pleasing made the composition sound like an entirely different thing. It wasn’t perfect, no; as the human voice can never truly replicate the delicate sounds of the piano. But the lullaby-esque hum still resonated just as sweetly in Logan’s mind and sent ripples of comfort in his chest that spread to the rest of him. 

And when the last sigh finally left Logan’s lungs, and he finally had the energy to lift his head back up to meet the prince’s eyes once more, he found he felt lighter than he ever did before. He thought maybe that’s what releasing approximately months or years worth of locked up sentiments within an hour did to an individual. Perhaps that hypothesis could be put on hold ‘till another opportunity.

Later that day they’d talk about that. They’d discuss the sheer ridiculousness of Logan stumbling into the wrong room, Logan mistaking Roman for a stuffed toy, and Roman letting all of it happen without complaint. They’d talk, share, and open up about insecurities, sensitivities, exhaustion, and frustration. They’d exchange “thank you’s,” “sorry’s,” but also laughter and banter. Later in the day they’d take a long, much-needed walk in the imagination while they poked fun at the other sides and named every creature they encountered and every flower they walked past by.

But for now they were here, in Roman’s room, with a tissue box being handed over by a Roman who had a hint of a genuine smile grazing his lips to a swollen-eyed Logan whose face was caked with dry tears.

For now, Logan was glad he stumbled into the wrong room. For now, Logan allowed himself to be a little less than who he was.

For now, Logan allowed himself not to think, but to feel.

~~~

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[galvus]

prompt: soul • words: 877 • era: shadowbringers patch content • [ masterpost ] the spiritual or immaterial part of a human being or animal, regarded as immortal.

Tell me about Garlemald.

Bianca sat with her back to the trunk of a narrow cedar. She wound her arms around her legs where they pressed against her chest, folded up like an anxious child though that feeling of anxiety didn't quite reach her. Ever since returning to the Source, she'd felt strangely at ease. Her heartbeat didn't quicken when approached by others. Her mind didn't trail over memories like walking over glass whenever she had a free moment to ruminate.

She felt grounded, more solid, and she had been enjoying the sparkle of the night's sky when she realized she was not alone.

Not realized, really, but remembered.

Ardbert sat beside her, cloaked in a turquoise glow that reminded her of a certain star that she could see even more clearly during late summer. It hung above them... as Ardbert got comfortable at her side.

“Could you not find out yourself?” she asked, half-teasing. “My memories are your memories now.”

I didn't want to snoop.

Bianca chuckled.

“Of course.” She leaned her chin onto her bent knees. “What a gentleman you are.”

Ardbert kicked back and peered up at the sky. She wondered what he could see. Could he glimpse even the most minute details of anything set out before him? Or was his world a blur of easily missed colors? Could he see the stars above him, see individual blades of grass, see the veins of gold in her brown eyes? Did he have the capacity to wonder what mysteries they held? Or was he just some unthinking part of her, barely a ghost?

He made a pained noise that bordered upon the dramatic, clutching his head with one gloved hand. Gods, woman. Stop asking so many terrifying questions. I came here to talk, not philosophize on my existence.

“I'm sorry,” Bianca offered before settling on a chew of her bottom lip. “I got a little carried away.”

So, as I was asking...

“Garlemald.”

Ardbert bobbed his head in a nod. Anything like what became of wretched little Eulmore?

“Gods, no.” The thought of anyone drawing comparisons between Garlemald and Eulmore nearly forced a laugh out of her, even feeling chided as she did for thinking of so many questions. “Garlemald... The capitol was built by Emet-Selch.” She pursed her lips. “Hades, rather. They were a mess until he organized them after possessing Solus zos Galvus. It was under him that they made the technological advances that we think of today as being birthed from Garlemald.”

Complicated stuff, then. Ardbert shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree's trunk. Imagine, an empire born of a total madman. Isn't that how it always goes?

“In my limited experience, yes.”

You miss it, though, don't you? Even for all its bloody warts?

“I miss what I might have  accomplished,” Bianca said, her eyes fallen from the night sky to stare at the dewy blades of grass beneath her feet. She curled her toes, gripping at them through her soft-soled shoes. “I was so close to making an impact, but in the end, there was nothing I could do.”

Her shoulders bobbed as she heaved a sigh. There was no avoiding the sense of loss that the campaign in Garlemald carved into her.

“How can you tell?” she asked.

Every time I reach out, all's I feel is missing and mourning, like you're already saying goodbye the people still standing around you, like you wish you could be everywhere that's ever been important to you all at once. So you remember everything.

Bianca's laugh grew quieter than before and just a shade sadder. “I don't remember the color of Ingvar's kettle,” she whispered. “He brought us to his cabin just outside of Mor Dhona often. He made us food and brewed us all cups of tea. Once, he told us that the kettle was a gift from his former lover, Halla, and that he'd treasure it for the rest of his years.”

Didn't last the year, did he?

She shook her head.

“And now, I can barely remember his face, much less his kettle. I don't want to forget anything else, and I'm so worried that I will.”

Ardbert arched his back in a stretch. Any relaxed sound he made echoed within her ears rather than without. He turned to her, smiling, and tossed her a wink.

Give me a moment.

Bianca shivered. Dark swept in where Ardbert's glow had been sitting, sprawled out on the damp grass. She squeezed her legs against her chest. It was an uncomfortable thing, having your trauma dredged up and left out to dry, but she didn't have it in her heart to blame him, not after everything she'd been through.

Especially not when minutes passed and a thought surfaced.

Ingvar's kettle was yellow with tiny white flowers near the spout.

Tucking her face into the bend of her arm, Bianca didn't even bother to suppress the grin that rose up onto her lips.

You'll never have to forget anything s'long as I'm around, he told her, and she believed him. She believed him with everything she had. You'll always have that little cabin. And you'll have Garlemald, too.

“And you'll have the First,” she whispered.

Aye, I will.

[minty-chocco]

Hello! May I request a cupcake with a grumpy Leona Kingscholar, trying to woo an GN Reader with like lion courting methods? Like brushing out his mane and giving meat and such, but it isn't working? Until Ruggie tips him off to try human courting? I don't really care what format but a scenario would be preferred. Thank you!

𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒂 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓 🧁

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x GN! Reader

Warning(s): None.

Word Count: 1.8k words

Extra Note: aaaaa I’ve written this prompt the other way around at first (the reader is the one courting Leona) and realized my mistake halfway through lol. Anyways, writing this was quite a challenge for me since I still haven’t fully grasped Leona’s personality yet. To be honest, the reader was supposed to be dense but then I thought what would be the fun in that? So I made the reader quick witted so they could push Leona into doing more effort in courting! I apologize if this isn’t what you had in mind and if Leona’s character is a bit off. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy reading! Here’s your cupcake~! (sorry it took so long)

The reader would be following canon mc here but they’re in 3rd year instead because Leona is 20 years old.

These past few days you have noticed the dorm leader of Savanaclaw, Leona Kingscholar, is acting a little bit odd.

 At first, you thought that he was just in the mood of being nice but then quickly erased that thought—Leona wouldn’t be nice with just anyone. You were suspicious if he was planning something being the scheming person that he is.

He would send Ruggie to give you food and jewelries. Whenever you would meet him at the Botanical garden he would be somewhat clinging to you while taking a nap. If others were to find you in that position they would assume you two were lovers.

 It wasn’t like that before. Leona despised any presence in his sleeping place not wanting anyone to disturb him. He would prefer to be alone and be basked in silence.

 Now he seems to tolerate you or even so.. he seems to now like your presence.

He would scoff whenever he smells another person’s scent on you and would become quite possessive, hugging you close until that nasty scent of others is now overpowered with his.

 He wasn’t like that before.

 You had some suspicions that maybe he likes you—but then you quickly erased that thought out of your mind.

 He wouldn’t.. right?

By this time, you were starting to get confused by his sudden behavioral change. You decided to ask him directly about it.

Walking through the school’s halls, your footsteps echoing throughout the empty corridor as you quickened your pace to get through the Botanical Garden.

 You wanted answers. Now.

 The botanical garden was peaceful as always. The sun shone down through its glass roof giving it a calm scenery. The vibrant colored flowers that surrounds the inside of the building was beautiful and fragrant. You inhaled the fresh scent of air. You can’t really blame Leona for liking this spot.

 You saw Leona at his usual sleeping area. He was softly snoring seemingly deep in his slumber.

 You observed his features while he’s busy dozing his problems away. He looked peaceful. His soft brown hair looked messy because he kept moving while sleeping. The shade of the tree he’s sleeping under kept him away from the light of the sun. You observed that his ear was slightly twitching.

 ‘He must be having a dream..’ You thought.

 You poked his cheeks gently to wake him up. When he didn’t give any response, you tugged at his sensitive ears instead.

 Of course, this caused him to wake up looking annoyed. The lion shifted and fluttered his eyes open revealing beautiful deep emeralds that shone like crystals. 

His eyes were like hues of the forest, surrounded with dark moss. It was the kind of earthy green that reveals the grass after the winter snow melted. The mystifying glow of his reflected on your (e/c) colored eyes. 

 “Oi, who would—” His deep voice was commanding with a hint of annoyance. Upon realizing that it was you, his irritated expression turned neutral. “It’s you, herbivore.”

 Leona wouldn’t hesitate show his dismay to anyone who would dare wake him up and mercilessly kick them out but why isn’t he doing so to you?

 “You’re acting weird, Leona-san.” You confronted him quite concerned for the man in front of you. Maybe he ate something he shouldn’t have. Maybe Ruggie got sick of this man and have been putting funny potions in his meal. You never know.

 “Haah?” He rubbed his eyes still sleepy because of his nap that was cut short. “Be straightforward.”

 You sighed shaking your head a little. “You’re acting too nice.”

 He frowned hearing this but you continued on not giving him a chance to talk. “First of all, why are you giving me meat through Ruggie? What do you expect me to do with it?”

 He was about to say something in defense but you raised a finger to add more. “Second of all, you’ve been touchy touchy with me lately to the point that I’m becoming your personal pillow.”

 “Lastly.” You gave him a pointed glare. “You’re becoming protective of me. You couldn’t care less about me before.”

 Leona sighed seemingly frustrated. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“No. Explain it to me.” You stubbornly replied, tired on whatever game he was doing.

Does he like you?

 “What a pain.” He turned his back to you begrudgingly and proceeded to lay down to take a nap ignoring your request. He pulled you aside with him and held you tightly while shutting his eyes close.

 “You--!” You gasped in surprise.

 When you noticed that he was already asleep, there was nothing you can do. You looked at him at disbelief. How can he fall asleep in just a matter of seconds? You decided not to ponder on your thoughts anymore. It’s Leona after all.

 “What should I do with you..” You said in a whisper.

“Leona-san.” Ruggie looked at his senior and pursed his lips. “You should be courting (Y/N)-san as any normal human would do.”

 The hyena didn’t really care if his senior was doing the wrong method of courting as long as he was being paid but after a long time, he couldn’t bear to see Leona failing at his pathetic attempts.

 “You think I don’t know that?” He raised a brow at his junior in front of him. Leona was clever enough to know that but he didn’t want to take his time to do research so he resorted to a method he’s familiar with. “This would do.”

 Ruggie looked at the dorm leader in incredulity. “I’m sure (Y/N)-san would appreciate it more.”

 After noticing the lack of response, Ruggie realized that Leona has already fallen deep in his slumber.

Ruggie just shook his head while picking up Leona’s clothes to take them to laundry. Atleast he tried.

After debating some time with yourself you decided to tell Leona directly to keep his act up. You’re slowly believing your first suspicions that he might like you when his actions continued.

 “Leona-san.”

 You visited him in Savanaclaw after a few days. “Do you like me?”

 Leona’s ears perked up upon hearing this. He looked at you with an amused expression. “Oh? You finally noticed?”

 Shaking your head, you looked at him straight in the eyes. “Then were you trying to woo me or something all this time?”

 He shifted to his bed to get into a more comfortable position before answering. “Yeah, what do you think I was doing?”

 “Well..” You studied his expression before speaking up. “You got to do a lot more than that.”

 Leona has been ‘courting’ you by giving you meat through Ruggie and often times he would just hold you in place while sleeping. He didn’t really extort real effort upon doing so.

It’s not like you’re materialistic or anything but you wanted him to be more proactive in his goals. You wanted him to be the one doing all the work instead of Ruggie but since it’s Leona we’re talking about—it seems like it would be an impossible goal.

 If he wanted you then he’s got to work harder than that. You ain’t no easy fish to catch.

 You made sure to send the message across not paying to his reaction before walking off.

 The lion looked at your retreating figure before gathering his thoughts and finally making a decision.

Leona has stopped doing his method of courting after that conversation you had the other day.

 You can’t help but feel disappointment fill you up. You expected the lion to atleast put some effort and challenged him but you guess it was too much for him.

 Although, it may not seem like it.. you did like the lion back. Even when he can be seen as standoffish, prideful, and lazy you can see some of his good points.

 Closing the magical book and bouncing off your seat in the library, you returned the book to its respected shelf.

 Exiting the library, you tried to take your mind off things by looking through the students passing by you while walking.

 After coming back to the Ramshakle dorm, what you didn’t expect to see was a certain lion that has been invading your mind lately. Leona’s turned to look at you after smelling your familiar scent, his tail slightly raising.

 “Leona.” You looked at him in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

 “Oi, (Y/N)” The man in front of you looked at you with an unreadable expression.

 You flinched when he called your name. This was the first time Leona ever called you by your name instead of herbivore.

 “I like you.” He awkwardly looked away scratching the back of his head not really used to these kinds of things. He wanted to take a more straight approach instead of poking around.

 Truthfully, Leona considered giving up. He thought it was such a pain that he would have to get his ass off from his comfort zone but that changed when reflecting back your moments shared together.

 This lion started to get used to your presence that It just feels wrong whenever you’re not with him. At first, he was satisfied with being friends thinking that being in a relationship would be a lot of work. That opinion of his changed when he saw you being buddy buddy with the other students.

 Yes, it made him jealous. Leona was quite possessive and he didn’t like the fact that there were students that dare try to make a move on you. He would often get annoyed smelling other scents on you.

 Although, he’s embarrassed to voice these thoughts out loud. He had hoped that his feelings reached you across. He then outstretched his hand to reveal a little box. He looked like he was waiting for you to take it and so you did.

 When you opened the box, it revealed a bracelet. It was just like his but more personalized and fit into your style.

 You raised a brow at him waiting him to explain eyeing him suspiciously.

 “Don’t look at me like that.” He raised his hand defensively and you can see him become flustered for a split second before regaining his composure. “I made that.”

 “Really? Are you sure?” You took at stepped and looked at him intensely as if you can tell if he’s lying or not.

 He groaned seemingly frustrated. “I did, okay? I even put your favorite colors to suit your taste.”

 “Hm.” You observed the bracelet closely and it was embedded to fit your aesthetic on just the way you like. “You’re right.”

Leona clicked his tongue upon this. “What a troublesome herbivore you are.. making me do these things.”

You can’t help but feel giddy inside. He really did this for you, huh? To others it may not seem much but Leona taking his time to make something for you makes you happy. You’re very much aware about the lack of effort he put into things and the fact that he made effort into making you this was already priceless to you.

 You chuckled and smiled fondly at him. “Aww aren’t you a cute kitty~”

“Heh.” He gave you his signature smirk which made your heart skip a beat. “Have you fallen for me now?”

“Who knows~?” You gave the lion a kiss on the cheek which wiped the smug grin on his face and is replaced with surprise, a light dust of pink painting his cheek.

 Ah, how dare you steal his heart just like that.

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!  🧁

[arahul-abyssia]

Festive

Writing number 4 for Nintember (@starprincesshlc , @jklantern )! To hopefully escape the pit of Emotions™ that was the first three stories, here's some hopefully much much much lighter, more slice-of-life-ish fare.

This does correspond to prompts 16-20, but I got caught up in Real Life for a while, so it's going up mega-late, and also it's kinda... abridged from its original concept, and less polished. 'Tis the way the cookie hath crumbled this year...

~~ Horse, Color, Hats, World, Music ~~

Layna awoke to a loud and repetitive hooting in her ear. She blearily turned her head to the side to find a pair of black-framed bright red eyes staring at her with interest. It took several moments of staring before she was mentally present enough to avert her gaze, sit up, and look out the window at the horizon. As she had expected, the sun had only barely risen fully above it.

She turned back to her greeter. “Relos! How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me up?”

Relos merely, and quite literally, hooted with laughter and flew off out of her room. Layna knew it was futile to keep telling him not to wake her, not because of any obligation or the masterful internal clock of his, but because he knew she didn’t like it and he was a mischief-mongering imp.

Normally, she’d roll over and try to get a few more minutes of sleep, but that day was the first of one of the best weeks of the entire year, and she didn’t want to miss a single moment. She quickly pulled herself from her bed, cleaned and dressed herself, grabbed the pack she had prepared the night before, and hurried downstairs, hoping to get through the delightfully aromatic kitchen and out the door before--

“Aaaalwaaaalrwaaa!”

Standing between Layna and the door was the soft pink-and-cream form of Infra, who was gazing up at her with strikingly accusatory eyes, her hands on her hips.

“Yes, Infra, I know I haven’t eaten.”

“Laaalruuwaar!”

“It’s the first day of the festival and I want to do as much as I can! I’ll get something from one of the vendors.”

“Luulrwarraalyaaa!”

“Ugh…! Fine, if it’ll make you happy.”

Begrudgingly, she returned to the kitchen and sat at the table, as Infra went to the stove, gingerly placed an assortment of breakfast foods onto a plate, and set it before Layna, smiling at her with fairy-pink eyes that had nary a semblance of her previous visage. Unlike the rest of Pokémon in her family’s home, who were all quite content to leave the human part of the family to do as they pleased, the Audino practically operated like another mother to her, as if she needed a third one on top of her human two (who also were often subject to Infra’s mothering). Somehow, she had learned how to do a whole plethora of human home tasks and chores, and she never let Layna leave home in the morning without ensuring that she’d eaten. An outside observer might wonder why a Pokémon was apparently her morning caretaker, and not either or both of her mothers, but with both of them having jobs that began long before dawn, it was simply how things were in their house.

She had to admit that Infra was a surprisingly good cook. This evaluation, however, was not based upon the food that she was at that moment rapidly stuffing into her mouth, but rather upon the numerous meals from days where she wasn’t dead-set on going elsewhere as soon as possible. That morning’s breakfast, while certainly of Infra’s normal calibre, was given no time to rest upon Layna’s taste buds, and may as well have been tasteless for all she cared.

As soon as the last bite of egg left her fork, she jumped to her feet, practically threw the plate and silverware into the sink, and darted for the door, calling out as she left, “‘Kthankyoubyyyyeeeeee!”

Infra was not impressed with her, as projectile kitchenware was dangerous and eating that quickly would likely give her a stomachache, but she’d have time later to worry about such things. Her next task was to prepare food for the rest of the Pokémon scattered about the house, who all were beginning to come to consciousness, probably due to the clatter of cutlery, and she set about with the same dutifulness and joy she always did.

Layna, of course, hadn’t even a single neuron focused upon Infra’s judgment, as she was far more concerned with sprinting down a steep road with wanton abandon, the countless colors and lights and tents and tarps of the festival visible in the distance. It had already entered full swing, always beginning with the dawn, and she wanted to explore as much as she could. She had considered bringing along some of the Pokémon, but not long later decided to bring them along later in the day instead. She did not know why she made this decision, nor did she care.

The streets that had been blocked off for the festival were already bustling with people and Pokémon alike, almost each and every one nearly as energized as Layna was. She promptly began to wander the streets, turning and spinning and looking about enough that she ought to have made herself sick, but this had not lasted for even five minutes before she was drawn to a larger vendor stall by an overpowering floral and fruity aroma.

As should be expected, an impossibly wide variety of flowers and fruits were on display, some having been made presentory and others still being attached to their plants, with countless more options upon the boards hanging from the awning.

“Well, hello there, young miss!” said one of the farmers behind the stand. “How can we help ya?”

“Oh, I’m just looking right now, sir.” She paused a moment, then was overtaken by a rather sudden curiosity. “There are so many flowers and berries here, how do you manage to pick and move them all?”

The farmer chuckled. “We have a lot of help, ‘specially around this time of year. Lot of it comes from extra hands, but it would still be impossible without the help of all our Pokémon, like ol’ Sitrus here.”

At this, he gestured to a Mudsdale beside him, which Layna had somehow managed to miss entirely.

“She’s lovely! And so… big…! I’ll bet she must be really strong, too!”

“More ‘n any of us could’ve expected! And she’s friendly, too; wanna pet her?”

Layna’s eyes immediately lit up. “Would I?!! I mean, uh, if she’ll let me…!”

The farmer laughed and brought the horse forward, and Layna tentatively reached up and placed a hand on her face. Sitrus took a moment to consider her latest contact, then, judging her satisfactory in that esoteric way few can ever decipher, leaned in to her touch. She giggled and stroked her a few times more, noting her fur’s strange combination of roughness and softness, before pulling her hand away. Sitrus, in turn, snorted a puff of hot air at Layna’s face before backing into the shade again.

“Aw, that means she likes you! Well, let me or any one of us know if ya want anything.”

“Will do, thank you!” Layna had no intention to buy anything at that time, not when there were countless other things to do and find and see at the festival. She proceeded to bury her face in several of the flowers around the stall, enveloping herself in their different, yet undeniably pleasant, scents, before scampering off to find some other point of interest.

She could have easily checked the maps of the festival area, which were scattered on boards and holographic signs all about the city and even available online, but this sounded boring and unfun, so she did not. Upon her winding, meandering, unfocused path through the streets were innumerable stalls and stands and attractions to take note of--more fruits and vegetables, tickets to special shows on later days, a ferris wheel to ride with someone else later, foreign cuisine and sweets--but it was not until she overheard the faint but unmistakable sound of music that she was drawn in once again.

Upon the boardwalk was a small stage with a frighteningly energetic group of musicians, surrounded by an even more enthusiastic crowd. They seemed to be in the middle of a rendition of a song Layna heard on the radio nearly every day, an anthem for Trainers detailing their goal to “Catch ‘em All.” She never saw the appeal--both of the song and of the objective--but it apparently spoke quite well to most others.

As they finished their performance--and on a much more somber note than the original song did--their main singer pulled the microphone from its stand and began pacing the stage. “I hope you folks are enjoying the show! Now, however, I’d like to take a break from the hype, and sing something a bit slower, something that’s… rather close to my heart.”

Layna watched as a Toxtricity--which had evidently been playing with the rest of the band, but which, just like the Mudsdale, she had failed at first to notice--stepped forward and began playing a slow guitar piece. The lead singer waited a moment, then began to sing a ballad in a tongue Layna could not understand. It was one she was certain she had heard before, but could not manage to identify it any way beyond that it was not the common tongue known by almost everyone across the world.

She tried to stay and listen, but immediately found that, beautiful though his singing was, she was not in the mood for slow music. Along with a small chunk of the band’s crowd, she turned and left, and returned to her aimless wandering and exploration.

Eventually, she found herself in a quarter rife with food vendors, most of whom had one or two individuals calling out and offering free samples. By the smells and descriptions alone, she was greatly tempted to take every single one she could. Of course, her mothers would likely have tried to limit how many she took so that she wouldn’t spoil her appetite for lunch, and Infra would surely have balked at the notion for the same reasons; also, most of the food in the area was rather far from being healthy. Indeed, she had significant reason to not do what she wanted to do.

However, none of those individuals were here to remind her, and as it turned out, the aromas were very persuasive. Layna marched forward and nabbed every sample in sight, only barely stopping to enjoy them before moving on to the next, and only doing so because of the crowds and lines slowing her down.

Her frenzy ended not fifteen minutes later, and as she looked about to find her next target of interest, she realized she had wound up on the very same street she had started on. Obviously, this would not do, as there were so many other, more interesting circles to walk in the festival’s streets.

However, with home being so near once again, she had half a mind to return to grab something to combat the rapidly rising sun, whose rays were just beginning to take too much precedence over the comfortable morning breeze…

“Twee-tweeoo-twrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

Or maybe I won’t have to after all!

A black-and-brown blur was barrelling toward her from the sky, making a frankly obscene level of noise. She stood firm and faced it, staring unblinking at the rapidly encroaching avian, before ducking at a perfect, precise, and repeatedly practiced moment. Like clockwork, Layna’s vision was shaded by an off-kilter hat (which she quickly adjusted), and the feathery form of a Taillow alighted upon her shoulder, whose face she began to delicately stroke.

“Thank you for bringing me my hat, Lond! Wherever would I be without you?”

“Twrrrt-t-twiii!”

“Wait, no, don’t tell me: Infra wanted me to not burn in the sun and you wanted to not be stuck inside with Relos.”

“Twrr-twrr-twrr!”

“I thought so… well, now that you’re here, how about sticking with me for a bit of exploration? I’m sure there'll be plenty of stuff to try!”

Lond pretended to think for a moment, then gave another enthusiastic chirp.

Layna giggled. “In that case, we mustn’t waste any more time! Onward!”

And with no decay to her exuberance, she sprinted off into the festival once more.

[egg-emperor]

☼ - appearance headcanon

I've had this in my inbox for a while now because I feel like it was the most vague prompt on the list. It could mean so many different things and I don't know which to discuss!

But I'm going with describing how I imagine Eggman's appearance throughout his life, since there's no right or wrong way to answer. It's an opportunity to describe it because I still have yet to finish and share art depicting my ideas for what he looked like/will look like.

When Ivo was a kid, I imagine that many of his features closely resembled his classic design. He never looked drastically different from it.

His face has always been round and his cute chubby cheeks were especially visible before he had his stache. His nose was never all that different in shape, (Idk why people change that, it doesn't make sense) just slightly in color. It wasn't as pink because his rosacea and other contributions to its color became more intense with age.

He's always been chubby and it's a common body type for Robotnik family men. But there's always a reason and for Ivo it was various aspects of his lifestyle that resulted in his weight. As for his limbs, they've always had the unique contrast of being more attenuated than expected. It's a unique Robotnik family genetics thing.

A lot of fan designs of Eggman as a kid to young adult include him having wild hair styles but I don't picture it looking too extreme. Just fairly simple, short most of the time, naturally parted, and not specifically styled to look a certain way. It ever looked anything like jimbotnik's because I don't feel like the style suits him.

His hair had quite a soft and fluffy feel to it like his stache does now. It would fluff up easily and look a bit scruffy. He didn't pay much attention and would leave it that way because it wasn't something he prioritized. He never had pride or attachment to his hair like he does with his stache, so it was easy for him to rid of it as an adult.

He used to have eyebrows! Despite both him and Gerald lacking them, I imagine he had them at some point but ended up losing them. I've never decided exactly when or how but it could've been because of an accident. Either way, they were gone by the time he lost his hair. It's a good thing he has expressive brow ridges. XD

Despite his height of 6' 1" now, he was pretty short throughout his childhood, even in some of his teen years. He didn't like how some people wouldn't take him seriously and would look down on him but he wasn't too worried or insecure because it's common for men in the Robotnik family to be big and tall, so he knew he'd catch up.

He was right, he had a growth spurt that surprised everyone because it was so fast and sudden that it seemed like it happened overnight. He even ended up being taller than his father ever was! His height then matched his confidence and ego, he enjoyed finally being the one to tower over others and make them feel small. He still feels that same power and pride in it to this day! XD

His weight only ever increased with his growth so he's always been round and chunky, never skinny and lanky. But he finds himself handsome and only cares about being comfortable in his body. With it being common in the family, nobody tried to make him feel bad for it. Perhaps they might have had something to say about him becoming the heaviest, but that was after he left to start his own life and he never saw them again.

Somewhere in his 20s or maybe early 30s, he started getting early signs of male pattern baldness. It was another expected genetics thing so the only part that surprised him was how early it was. Unlike his father who was desperate to maintain his hair, Ivo didn't really care much about his own. His father spent years trying to keep his, while Ivo didn't even bother trying to save it and just shaved his entire head.

He might have tried a couple of wigs in case a bold head didn't suit him but he quickly realized how he found them too uncomfortable and itchy. He also realized that bald is beautiful and embraced it. He still has a number of wigs for disguises and they always looks convincing so he could have hair if he wanted to. But they still make him itch and he thinks he looks much better without them now.

He'd already started growing a mustache before losing his hair because he always thought they were cool. A lot of the males in the family did with his grandfather and father having one too. When he still had hair and a smaller stache, he looked very similar to his father and some confused them with each other. He's always been up to sly trickery so he used it to his advantage at times for useful benefits in his father's business.

But after he shaved his head and started growing out his stache so it could be as magnificently big and fluffy as it is now, he soon had a lot more in common with his grandfather's appearance than his father's. Even more so when he changed his round glasses with arms and clear glass to his shaded pince-nez ones. He welcomed this because he idolized his grandfather but disliked his father.

I don't try to find a logical explanation for the way he changed shape from spherical to more of an egg shape from classic and modern, or the way he seemingly got taller during adulthood lol. I just see it as a design and style choice that doesn't need a story based explanation. No characters notice or acknowledge the changes in their appearance, kind of like how nobody in 06 did.

That was a summary of the progress behind his appearance up to the present! I have ideas for extremely specific extra details for his present look and how it changes, such as small things with his eyes and skin. But I've decided I'll get into that in the second ask of this same prompt I got. So stay tuned! For now, I'm going to move on to how he'll look in the future because I have a few more things to say about it!

When he gets even older, he'll go through quite a few drastic changes but he'll still just look like a slightly altered version of his present self.

The most visible sign of age besides his graying stache is his weight because of how his current almost ends up doubling. It's mostly because he dropped his exercise routine when he started to let himself get comfortable in his old age. He couldn't accept it immediately due to the judgement he knew he'd get but he learned to expect reactions and not take it to heart. The teasing still gets to him at times but he deals with it.

He also does end up losing some of his height. I still haven't decided how many inches he loses but it will at least noticable enough for people to point it out. This is extremely disappointing to him and he'll heavily deny it because he really doesn't want to accept it. Luckily he'll still have a decent posture because he tries hard to maintain it, so that helps him keep a bit of height.

His most noticable wrinkles will be those that are around his eyes and also his brow area because of how often it furrows. It's definitely another point of teasing for people but he doesn't care about the wrinkles on his face because what is he supposed to do about it? He doesn't try to cover it up. He's secretly a bit insecure of wrinkles he has in other places but most people don't get to see that.

Because he'll still be so hardworking, he'll be visibly affected more noticably after lack of sleep. The circles/bags under his eyes will become even darker and will be seen on most days. He often looks tired and pissed off but rest assured, he isn't always feeling as miserable and exhausted as he might appear. But it will seem to stand out even more prominently when he has a rough day.

It impressively takes a while for his stache to fully gray, despite his age and constant stress. But it doesn't take as long as it seems because he keeps trying to hide and even dye it. The hair comes in as a very dark gray at first and he really won't be happy with it. It will take a while for him to accept and embrace it, mostly because it's a sign of his mortality that makes him feel like he's 'running out of time' because he's dramatic like that.

But by the time his entire stache grays, it will look like more of a snowy white color with some slightly darker patches here and there. The rest of his body hair will look the same way, so he goes from a brown bear to a bigger polar bear! 💜 And while he'll still have his worries about aging and mortality, this is the point where he'll learn to embrace the affects that age has on his appearance and he stills finds himself as handsome as ever. 💕

[ulalumewitch]

this was originally inspired by the prompt “The Pet” by @capriprompts … part 3 coming soon and will finally address the prompt proper. hope you enjoy!

Author’s Note: This story deals with disappointments during the adoption process as well as references to parental deaths during childhood. Some readers may find this triggering. I hope I handled it with the care and sensitivity it deserves.

part 1 here: https://ulalumewitch.tumblr.com/post/658329277505421312/betty-part-1

word count: 2,036

themes: angst, angst, more angst

“Betty: Part 2”

Laurent’s eyes honed in on the next fence in the course well before his mount took the jump three strides ahead of them. He lifted his seat slightly out of the saddle as his bay mare, Faryn, easily took the fence. Graceful. Lithe. Powerful. She was a horse bred for showing and for showing off.

Auguste had gifted her to him when Laurent and Damen started their own firm. The three brothers had been equestrians since birth, their parents owning stables renowned for rated showing as well as breeding. It was a multi-million dollar business grown from keen, ruthless business focused minds and generations of passionate equestrians.

Laurent pressed his heels into Faryn’s side and took the jump, forcing his mind to think about the remaining fences. But, as always, when his moods darkened no matter the reason, he always thought about the night they’d learned their parents died in a car accident. He tried to embody Auguste’s strength - the strength that even in the most terrible situation at only twenty years old, allowed Auguste to immediately take up as head of the family, and the family business, and to never waver.

Auguste was also the first to hear about Laurent and Damen wanting to expand their family from two to three. Laurent hadn’t recalled the last time he even saw his brother cry. Maybe at their parents funeral, but even then he wasn’t certain. But when he and Damen told August that they began the adoption application process, Auguste’s eyes had filled with tears and he’d grabbed them in a monster of a hug of congratulations.

Laurent frowned. How would it be to break the news to Auguste that he thought of calling it all off? How would it be to confess to his eldest brother, his hero, that for the first time in his life he felt like giving up because it hurt too much?

Faryn shrieked slightly and threw her head. Laurent internally cursed. He’d become lost in thoughts that didn’t involve guiding his horse through the course. As incredible a show horse as Faryn was, her temperament ran hot. If he didn’t keep his entire focus on her, then she would take advantage. He loved her for it.

Laurent had come out every day for the last week to ride her. He needed to lose himself in the present moment. He needed the one thing that demanded his full attention so he wouldn’t feel the pain of the loss of a child he never met. It wasn’t fair, and Laurent had never met a problem he couldn’t think and argue his way through. Never.

Until now.

Faryn huffed after she cleared the last jump. He’d been out for over an hour. He knew he should cool her down and untack her before returning to the city. So, he gave Faryn her head, slackening the reins all the way to the buckle and let her walk freely heading towards the back of the property near the woods where riding trails of all types were marked.

The bright sun disappeared once in they entered the woods, the leaves beginning to turn brilliant shades of ruby and amber. But Laurent barely noticed. He couldn’t stand the thought of returning to the city. He’d lightened his case load to practically nothing in preparation for what should have been their baby due in a month.

But the mother changed her mind. He couldn’t be angry at the mother, he really couldn’t. But the despair swelled to almost unfathomable depths, especially when he’d stood in the room they had made a nursery for their would-be daughter. The room done in tasteful shades of lilac and cream, with small thematic hints of fantastical creatures that firmly remained on the side of tasteful and not gaudy. He and Damen had spent weeks preparing it, both laughing and talking about what her first word might be, or what interests she would find on her own.

His eyes stung. All those dreams vanished in one phone call. He wanted to talk to Damen about how he felt, but for the first time in his entire life, he couldn’t find the words to express the abject pain he endured for the loss of their would-be family. He couldn’t find the words.

Laurent took in a shuddering breath. Alone in the woods he didn’t care that the exhale sounded more like a sob then a clearing breath. Faryn walked steadily beneath him, but he barely noticed. God, he couldn’t breathe...

Because even if he had found the words he’d barely seen Damen since the night of the fateful phone call to speak them to him. Damen woke up every morning at four-thirty to work out, and while Laurent usually joined him, he simply couldn’t muster it the last few days. Then Damen went to the offices, stating one of their partners needed help with a case, and then ... then he just didn’t come home until it was well past their usual bedtime.

Laurent stayed up late the previous night, lights off in their apartment, and sat on the balcony looking down at the entrance to their apartment building. His heart had hammered in his chest and nausea had rolled his stomach when he saw Damon get out of his sister-in-law’s car.

Laurent didn’t particularly care for Jokaste, and he didn’t think that Damen was being unfaithful. It was the lie that rocked Laurent. Damen clearly told him that he was staying late to help with a case and would take a cab home. Jokaste was a well-to-do, pseudo-fundraiser, and was all too happy to spend Damen’s brother’s money while she worked her way up the social circles of New York City - she most certainly wasn’t a partner at their firm.

He and Damen fought over the years, as most couples do. They fought until they worked their way through a problem. They could be moody with one another. But despite those things they always worked through their issues because, no matter how big or small the problem, they were always honest with each other. Or so Laurent had thought anyway.

Maybe it was better that they were denied a child. Maybe the universe was trying to tell them that they shouldn’t be a family. Maybe -

“You’re crying.”

Faryn shied to the left and bolted a few paces. Laurent flew right. He landed on his side and the wind knocked out of him slightly.

“Are you alright?”

Laurent pushed himself up, still trying to get his breath as Faryn walked back over to him and nuzzled him with her nose as if to say, ‘what are you doing on the ground?’. He grabbed her reins as he slowly stood up, carefully taking in shallow breaths.

“You should know ...” Laurent gasped, “... better than to ...,” another gulp of air, “... sneak up on her.”

His youngest brother shrugged his shoulders and tossed his shoulder length hair - this month the color of magenta - over both shoulders, and said, “I thought you saw me. Are you okay?”

Laurent didn’t reply as he swung himself up into the saddle. He checked his stirrups while knowing Nicaise studied him with all the attention a viper gives before striking at their prey.

“What,” Laurent snapped to find his brother’s blue eyes - the same eyes the three of them inherited from their father - still trained on him.

But instead of their usual sharpness he found them softened.

“It fell through?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Laurent whispered and gently urged Faryn to walk past Nicaise and his mount.

Laurent didn’t suppress the huff of annoyance as his brother trotted up beside him and then slowed his horse to a walk to keep pace with Faryn. He considered urging his mare into a gallop to refrain from the conversation Nicaise wanted to have. But he knew his brother. Of the three of them, Nicaise was the most observant and persistent, even though he was still so young. He’d still been in diapers when their parents died.

“You were crying,” Nicaise stated simply.

Laurent pressed his lips together and straightened his spine. Nicaise could talk, but Laurent could always refuse to respond.

“Laurent,” he whispered, “Please, talk to me.”

Something cracked in Laurent’s chest at the quiet declaration. He looked at his brother. Of the three of them, Nicaise’s hair always looked more mousy brown than gold, and was a point of jealousy that always lended to him dying it more bizarre colors. And while he didn’t possess a verbal filter - none of the Vere brothers did - he did show more outward empathy than Laurent did. He’d always envied that about his brother. While the brothers were years apart from each other, it seemed to bring them closer instead of distancing them. A blessing considering all that had happened.

Laurent stopped Faryn as they reached the edge of the woods. Nicaise stopped besides him patiently waiting. Their horses unusually quiet, as if they too wanted to hear his answer.

“I ...” Laurent began, and swallowed the lump forming in his throat, “I’m upset we’ve been let down again. You can’t blame a mother for wishing to keep her child. I wish them the best.”

Nicaise rolled his eyes, “You’re not being interviewed. You can talk to me. What does Damen say?”

Laurent shook his head, “He thinks it will still happen.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t know anymore. I just want ...” I just want it all to stop.

And there it was. It startled him, his own voice screaming it through his mind: I just want it all to stop. The confession he wanted to scream at Damen but couldn’t. The truth that would perhaps cause Auguste to be disappointed in him for the first time in their lives.

“I’ll be fine.”

Nicaise snorted, “Of course you’ll be fine. But there are different levels of fine. Right now you’re like one of those black-out-drunk-tripping-over-their-heels-mascara-running-down-their-faces-slurred-words-college-girls, yelling out, ‘I fine, ge’me ‘nother shot,’ fine. And that’s not fine.”

“Thank you,” Laurent clipped, “for that graphic explanation of why I’m so proud to be married. And how exactly do you know about those types of girls when you’re still in high school?”

Nicaise leveled him with a look, and flatly responded, his words slow and concise, “The. Internet.”

“I’m riding back now,” Laurent stated, “Ride along if you want but I’m not talking about this anymore.”

Nicaise rode alongside him, silent, as they made their way to the stables. The calls of instructors to students in rings on either side of them joined the chorus of horses galloping in their large paddocks, or the shrieking whinnies of horses in the stables about to be fed. All of it familiar and comforting.

As they approached the shaded area where riders mounted and dismounted their horses, Nicaise called out softly, so soft, Laurent barely heard him over the breeze through the trees.

“Laurent?”

He turned and looked at Nicaise. He raised his eyebrows in response.

“Don’t give up,” Nicaise said quietly, “I have no idea what you’re going through. And I can’t imagine how painful it is -“

“Nic -“

“But,” he continued, speaking over Laurent’s attempted interruption, “I do know you and Damen. You’re amazing together and any child would be lucky to have you as their parents. Don’t give up. You’re the strongest person I know, Laurent. I’ve always really envied that in you. And your blond hair.”

Laurent snorted a little but a smile tugged at his lips at his brother’s sincerity. Nicaise was only seventeen. He couldn’t understand what any of this meant yet. What the cruelties of life could do to a soul. Laurent didn’t have the heart to cut him down. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

So instead he said his thanks and dismounted his horse. He’d give himself another day or two and if Damen still insisted on disappearing, then he would talk to him. But until then he’d allow himself to grieve alone. He just hoped that whatever happened he and Damen would find their way out of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[beetlemancy]

Anon again: Thank you!! I appreciate you taking the time to answer me because I am kind of active in the community but very very new. I did know your opinions but being new I just wanted to know whether those recent posts held any weight. I want to be socially responsible with my media consumption and I was worried there was something I was missing, given I have seen specific call outs for certain cast members (Travis, Laura, Sam, and Liam) recently. Thanks again!!

Anon pt2: you don’t have to post this but for context the call out posts were as follows: Travis actively supports the military, Laura voiced a black character?, Sam did brown face??, and Liam is fake woke/virtual signaling (or something along those lines). Obviously I can find out information about this for myself but I have seen more anti-CR stuff lately which prompted my ask.

As with everything, I suggest you do your own reading on those topics, and any topic that comes up in regards to the media you watch. Below is simply my opinion. Note: this gets long.

Travis does support the military - but not as an institution. He has family in the military. He supports the soldiers. He works with Operation Supply Drop and I’d encourage you to look into OSD specifically. Whether you agree with the idea that we should even have a military or not, you cannot deny that our veterans and soldiers are given the short end of the stick. We cannot just abandon them because helping them might be viewed as giving money to the military. I have so many military vets in my disability groups. The VA is awful because it has no funding (I know good people who work at the VA too, but they just cannot help everyone like they’d want to). Programs like OSD are genuinely helpful to a lot of hurting folk and the people who shit on Travis and CR for promoting and helping them out have clearly never actually sat down and talked to a vet or a soldier before. 

Laura and many many other voice actors have voiced people of color in various shows. Yes, this is a legit problem. However, obviously as with most things, the problem is nuanced. The fault mainly lies with the VO industry as a whole, in that actors actually have very little control over what they do. There was a whole strike about this very topic (though the strike covered other issues in the industry as well). In the case of Laura, for instance, she was never told what her character would look like until after the fact. And that is super common in the industry. One of the things they tried to get in the strike was more transparency so that actors could make the decisions themselves whether to voice characters or not - not just based on race or culture but also based on type of work (stressful screaming vs chill dialogue) and whether the content of the game itself was something they wanted their name attached to. 

Sam’s blackface scandal is extremely old news. That’s not to say it isn’t important to note, and in fact Sam made a point to note it again back in 2018. I know people who can’t watch CR because of it, even after his apology, and that’s fine because its not my place to judge others for how they react to that kind of thing. However I know a lot of people who read his apology and the circumstances surrounding it and decided to forgive. To some people, the fact that he was asked to do so by will.i.am changes the situation. To others, it doesn’t. To some the fact that he apologized and has clearly worked to improve his behavior matters, to others it doesn’t. You have to decide that for yourself. You can read Sam’s letter HERE. 

Now. Regarding Liam. * sigh * I think, and again this is my opinion, that you cannot proclaim someone you do not know as ‘fake woke.’ I think there are parts of this fandom that have it out for Liam because of a whole bunch of gross reasons, many of which I’ve spoken about before. He is sensitive and a man - that makes people uncomfy. He plays a lot of women characters and tends to embody them in both personality and body language - that makes people uncomfy. He fully embraces the bi energy (this is not to say whether he himself is or not) - that makes a lot of people uncomfy (and angry). He loves theatre and loves to explore the human condition, warts and all - that makes people super uncomfy. Now. There are people who thinks he’s homophobic. Do you know why? Its because his bi character ended up with a woman instead of a man. That is biphobia, no matter how they twist it. Bi people being “allowed” to be bi and not ‘pick the right side’ in the LG (not BT, lets be real) community IS revolutionary because its so very hated. 

Another reason they say he’s homophobic is because of the jokes he is often involved in - some gay men in the fandom believe that joking about sex is him ‘making fun’ of gay relationships. As a bi enby, I disagree, and I read many of the jokes he himself makes as the kind of humor I use among my own friends. I think there is a definite disconnect between bi vs LG humor and I’m not entirely sure who would be considered in the ‘right’ on that. However, when LG people in the fandom claim that he cannot talk about gay relationships because he is cishet? They cannot know that. That is an assumption they are making. When LG fans say that he alone is responsible for this issue and not -literally every single member of CR- ? I have to question whether its really the issue and not just that they still hate Liam for deigning to make a bi character bi instead of gay.

Another thing re: Liam. Aside from Marisha, he is the one I see the most hate about. People on Twitter and Tumblr both have legit uttered death threats about him if he doesn’t do exactly what they want his characters to do in the game. Usually this is about shipping. I have seen people claim that they WISH he was ‘like vic mignogna’ so they’d have a reason to hate him more. I’ve seen a certain group of people and one in particular say they have ‘dirt’ on him but refuse to say what the dirt is - and yet continually bring up that it exists, but that they just cannot say. Why would you incessantly bring up information you possess just to say that you cannot divulge such information? 

Legit issues about CR that is attached to Liam is the whitewashing issue. Some say that only Liam is responsible here because he controls all the art. I would say that we actually don’t know that for sure. He is ‘Art Dad’ and clearly has some pull. I do think that CR should address this issue, but I’m not sure they can legally do what the fandom wants them to do, which is “call-out” artists by name and denounce them. Now, this too is more nuanced than the fandom makes out because its often way more about colorism vs whitewashing. Many people do not draw Beau as white, but they do draw her as much lighter skin tones than her original art. Colorism is a real problem, but white allies tend to go about talking about it wrong or making smaller things a bigger deal when POC would really rather talk about something more important to them. It was these same white allies that tore Mica Burton apart on Twitter because she liked and enjoyed a drawing of Reani, her own character, that was a few shades lighter than the drawing she herself had brought in, even after she had said that she appreciated the variety of skin tones due to seeing herself in each of them. On the topic of whitewashing/colorism in the fandom, I personally tend to wait to hear from POC over the masses of white allies.

The CR fandom is very big for a niche thing like DnD. As such, there are many many corners of the fandom that can get really jaded, really dark, and really up their own ass in regards to the discourse. There are legitimate issues in the fandom and with CR as a whole. Nothing is perfect, nothing ever will be perfect, and people should absolutely do what they can to do better and to ask their media to do better. That being said, there are also people who think that if you don’t do something exactly like they want, then you’re Problematic by default. There are also members of this fandom who have an active vendetta against certain cast members and will use any opportunity to co-opt legit issues in order to shore up their false arguments. These people are only using the real issues and it becomes clear pretty quickly that they don’t actually give a shit about the people they say they are trying to speak up for. 

There is also some fandom drama that has occurred ONLY in fandom and has absolutely nothing to do with CR other than the fact that the people involved happen to be CR fans. Certain people in the fandom think that CR should arbitrate this issue and involve themselves, call out the individuals responsible, etc. This is, I believe, a GROSS misconception of what CR’s role is and asking way too much of a source of entertainment. The fact that CR has not involved themselves in this issue has led certain members of this fandom to claim that CR is homophobic. I would caution that most callouts of CR as homophobic are directly linked to this first issue, and also a callback to the Vaxleth drama from campaign one, and is incontrovertibly tied to bi and enby-phobia and a seriously sick misunderstanding of the responsibilities a show has versus the responsibility individuals have as viewers of said show. 

That’s it for now. I could go way more in depth on this problems, but I’m tired of typing. Suffice it to say, its easy to make a list of things Problematic with CR, but once you actually delve into each topic hopefully you’ll realize how complicated and filled with nuance and Different Opinions going on back from the first episode of Campaign One... Listing problems without actually addressing them head-on isn’t a good way to deal with the problems that are true anyway, let alone tell them from the false ones. 

[wincore]

hiii moonnn !! for the kiss prompt , may I request johnny pls 🥺 place: under the stars & love as the reason ! tysm this is an honour bc u’re one of my fave nct writers 😙💖

thank u darling for enjoying my writing!!

theme: boyfriend!au, demigod!au (greek mythology)

“So…are you gonna tell me why you brought me up here or…?”

“Do I need a reason?” Johnny grins at you, chin resting on his forearms atop the roof of his car.

“I can’t help but think you’re up to something,“ you state, narrowing your eyes at him from the other side. 

Johnny lets out a short chuckle before closing the door of the car and motioning for you to follow. When your boyfriend said he’s taking you on an adventure, you quite literally had no clue what to expect. Everything’s an adventure to the man—even if it’s just going out at 3 a.m. to get hot ramen from the convenience store right beside your apartment. You didn’t think it’d be an hour drive, dozing off on Johnny’s shoulder by the time you reached.

You take two steps after him before you gasp.

“Don’t tell me we’re meeting your dad!” 

The blood drains from your face at the idea. A God among Gods—you wish that were an understatement—is unlikely to meet mere human beings on a whim, lesser beings as one of the other demigod children had labeled bitterly. He’s a God, feared and admired since times of war and prayers. So what gives you, a mortal, enough confidence to face someone as divine, as powerful? It makes you uneasy.

You shake out of your trance to find Johnny laughing, doubled over.

“We’re not really meeting him but- you’re that scared of my dad?” he says, calming down from his fit. “Even I’m not that terrified of him, babe.”

“Shut up,” you say, cheeks coloring. “It’s not exactly everyday I meet someone who can smite me out of existence.”

“Relax! He’s pretty easy-going,” your boyfriend reassures you, taking hold of your hand. “Besides, he likes hanging out at the beach. And he’s got, like, a bajillion other kids to worry about.”

You rub your thumb over his knuckles, a sigh leaving your lips.

“He can’t be that bad,” you mumble, feeling somewhat sorry.

“Oh,” Johnny says with a dismissive tone, “Pretty sure he’s won worst dad of the year several times, actually. Only beaten by Zeus himself.”

You want to laugh but you stiffen. 

“Are you allowed to say his name like that?!” You lower your voice, eyes shifting around nervously.

“If Zeus could hear everyone saying his name, he’d be, uh, hearing some delicate words pretty often.” Johnny shrugs. “And then we’d have more thunderstorms.“ 

You laugh, easing, Johnny’s eyes lighting up at the sound. They always make you feel warm in the chest, with how pretty those almond eyes are. He tugs at your hand, and you follow him up a beaten road before diverging into a less visible track.

It’s a long walk uphill, however, and Johnny has it easy when his legs are so fucking long. The wind gets chilly and you cling onto Johnny’s hand for a little piece of warmth. A break would be nice. You stop halfway through, swearing at your boyfriend for choosing such a godforsaken place but continue nonetheless when he frowns, a look in his eyes you don’t want to upset. 

Johnny doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time. He’s been this way since you started dating, perhaps even before—a little protective with the need to feel your touch at all times. It’s understandable and you found it endearing despite how often he refuses to let go. (And his strength and stature make it next to impossible to break free.)

It wasn’t hard to tell there was something off about your boyfriend; maybe not the first or second time you met him, but eventually, it was clear. You met in university after all, and it’s not the full uni experience unless all your secrets are laid bare by the end of first year. 

Johnny was a natural people person, everyone drawn to him like he was made of honey, of things so sweet. But there was something about him, oh it nagged you day and night, a silvery whisper. The way he spoke, the way he smiled—there was a quiet difference you just couldn’t put your finger on. He’s aced every athletics club entrance test for fun, a little awkward at reading his text material and always hanging around the swimming pool for too long—gosh, were the number of people ogling him extraordinarily high then. There were so many hints and you’d missed all of them. 

You’ve met demigods before, just not one like this. Johnny was almost unworldly were it not for his habit of making everyone feel at ease. It took you a while to figure out.

Son of Poseidon, gentle eyes and sun-crinkles—how could you miss it? The way he smells of golden amber and sea musk, calloused hands and deep eyes, just all of him, really. It was hard to not find him attractive. But it was harder to answer if that was all. 

The place gets closer—you know because you can see a soft smile forming on Johnny’s face. You quicken your pace to match his footsteps, curiosity peaking as you notice your boyfriend get giddier.

The water glows a gentle blue, in contrast with the darker shade of its surroundings. They reflect the stars, their shine not dulled through the distance and a certain twinkling you haven’t seen in them in quite a while. Water lilies bloom bright, small frogs jumping in and out of the water. There might be some fish too but they’re elusive, invisible if you try too hard to spot them. 

It’s a clear sky tonight. You sigh at the warmth, quite possibly a result of the habitation around here but you’re glad it soothes the cool air. (”You like this kind of thing, don’t you?” “Hm, yeah.”)

“You will not believe how I had to impress the Naiads to find this place,“ Johnny tells you, walking closer to the spring to stand beside you.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, the implication of his words not quite what you expected. “Impress, huh?”

“No- babe, that’s not- I mean, of course not,“ Johnny looks at you with mock hurt.

“Naiads do love a son of Poseidon,“ you mumble, turning away to face the waters. 

Johnny wraps his arms around you, resting his chin atop your head. “Oh, but this son of Poseidon only loves you.”

“Johnny, that’s cheesy,” you say looking down, the heat quite rushed to your cheeks. You want to call him an idiot but the word falls short.

“But you’re enjoying it,” he hums.

“I enjoy everything about you.”

You feel Johnny shake with soft laughter, swaying gently at his own pace. You don’t know when you started to see Johnny in most everything—in the new dog cafes, in midnight city rains, in children playing volleyball. Call it love, call it more.

You turn around. “I—”

Johnny presses his mouth against yours in a kiss that makes you melt and you clutch the fabric of his hoodie for support. His arms wind around your waist, secure as always and he hums when you push against him. 

“Baby’s getting bolder, hm?” he murmurs between kisses with a laugh. You respond with a weak sound.

You remember the first time you kissed him, not quite sober and he had pushed you away only to spend the night with you. The whiskey still burns on your tongue sometimes. 

You don’t need to see fireworks when you kiss, just taste the late night coffee and a bit of Johnny. 

A son of a God and his lips, tongue, fingers, love—the texts and scribes were nothing close to describing it perfectly. You forget the words you meant to tell him.

But you don’t have to say ‘I love you’; it’s there in your mouth and he can taste it.

//

“No, I don’t wanna listen to the minotaur story again!” Johnny shakes you by the shoulders. “It’s literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“But why? I think it’s funny—”

“Yeah, Dad’s very creative but…gross.”

You laugh at his disgust, nose wrinkled and a mild shaking of his head. 

“Tell me another story,” he says, leaning in, “Something more…romantic.”

You breathe out quickly at the sudden proximity, heart in your throat. His smile grows and you resist the urge to huff at him. He’s unbearable when he knows he’s under your skin. Gods, it was harder to admit you fell in love with him than it was to find out his heritage.

You reach out and move the hair out of his face, marveling at how he manages to keep it soft when he used to be a sweaty college student pretty often. Memories are funny in a way, they keep you so closely tied. There’s an embarrassing amount of pictures of him on your phone, the ones he sent from the dorms, from his new job, sometimes family photos during holidays. It gets busy a lot, but sometimes, just sometimes, it’s like this. 

You wonder if Gods get to have happy endings. You wonder if there’s more to the constellations they made.

“Hello?” Johnny pretends to knock on your forehead.

“Something more romantic, hm? Okay,” you say and he goes back to laying his head on your lap, twirling the water in wisps around his fingers to spell random words. You bend to press a kiss to his forehead, a surprised smile wavering onto his face as the water splashes beside you.

“Baby, you might want to have aimed lower.” Johnny winks at you.

“You’re so annoying. I’m in love with you.”

[therainroguefanfiction]

🍂 Bracing Weather (Morisuke Yaku)

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Autumn

Word Count: 2,234

Pairing: Reader x Yaku

World: Haikyuu!!

Prompts: “[x] is trying to rake their leaves, but reader may have… another idea. Bye bye leaf pile.” and “Reader and [x] go to a pumpkin patch but the reader picks up an ugly pumpkin and says ‘this is you.'”

Author’s Note: This was written for the “Leaves in the Wind” collab over at the BNHA Sanctuary discord server. You can find the masterlist post [here] – make sure you check it out to read the other awesome entries for this collab! Thank you very much @smol-enby​ for hosting this collab and thank you @ambershaydeoffical​ for giving me the caramel popcorn line lmfao Happy Autumn everyone!

As soon as you stepped outside that morning, your mood instantly shot through the roof. The wind was blowing through the trees, the leaves skating across the pavement as if they had somewhere important to be. It was brisk outside, the sky covered by a sheet of light grey and the air damp with a soft mist of rain. Birds were cawing in the distance as they danced on the breeze, clearly enjoying the new weather.

The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful, as it often tended to be, the streets littered with fallen leaves in vivid shades of orange and brown. They crunched and crackled beneath your feet before being swept away by the wind. It felt like you were high, walking on a cloud as you soaked in the weather around you.

It was invigorating and you soon found yourself dancing down the street, your cheery laughter echoing through the empty neighborhood.

People looked upon you strangely as you passed them, but you simply didn’t care. How could you when your spirits were so effervescent? Autumn was, in your opinion, the very best time of the year. The time when your mood was the highest and your smile the brightest.

How you made it through the woes of life was quite simple: you would tell yourself that, one day, Autumn would once again settle over the land and all of your worries, fears, and stress would disappear for a short time.

Try as you might, you were certain that there were no words in any language that could properly represent just how happy the season made you feel and you had certainly tried on multiple occasions to do so.

When you reached the Yaku residence, you found your boyfriend in the front yard attempting to rake up the leaves that were scattered across the grass. A large pile of them sat in the center but, as he raked over the last of the fallen leaves, a gust of wind sent the top of the pile flying across the yard. His nose wrinkled in frustration and you quietly laughed behind your hand.

‘Well, since the wind is already doing it…’ you took a step back, a grin sliding onto your face as you pushed off the ground, rushing straight for the pile. Morisuke looked up curiously when he heard your laughter but his mahogany eyes quickly widened when he realized just what you were planning.

“Y/N! Don’t you dare!”

But you couldn’t stop now even if you wanted to, which you certainly did not want to. You had made your choice and you were going to commit to it, even if that meant facing an angry libero later on. You were positive that the experience would be well worth it.

“Yahoo!” you cheered as you jumped up into the air, letting gravity do its thing as it pulled your body downward – straight into the pile. Leaves went everywhere, flying up into the air, and seeing its chance, the wind picked up at that exact moment, carrying the leaves to the opposite end of the yard. Russet, saffron, and scarlet were now splashed on the wooden fence, stuck in the gutter and pinned to the windows like decorations.

Morisuke’s eye twitched as he looked upon the mess you had made before he turned his glare to you. Despite the annoyance that he so rightly felt, his gaze softened at the ecstatic expression upon your face.

“Mori, look look! It’s so kaleidoscopic!” you grinned brightly before flipping over onto your back, making an angel in the pile of leaves.

He sighed as he approached you, one hand on his hip and the other propping up the rake on the ground. “Couldn’t you just have admired them when they were nearly piled up instead of ruining the pile that I spent two hours raking.”

“That’s no fun,” you pouted, pulling yourself up into a sitting position with your legs crossed beneath you. Leaves clung to your clothes like excited children, tangling into your hair which resembled someone that had been headbanging for a good hour.

He started to laugh, dropping the rake so that he could clutch his stomach. “You look ahaha like a haha scarecrow!”

You grinned proudly, folding your arms over your chest. “The most awesome scarecrow in the neighborhood!”

“You keep telling yourself that,” he wrinkled his nose in amusement. “You’re helping me clean this mess up!”

“But -”

“No buts!”

You leaned to the side, eyes sliding down to his backside. “Yep, definitely no butt.”

“Y-Y/N!” his cheeks bloomed with color and he turned away in embarrassment, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he muttered under his breath. “Why am I even dating you again?”

You chuckled, pulling yourself to your feet so you could wrap your arms around his body from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. “Because you love me, obviously.”

Morisuke’s expression softened as he turned around in your hold, his own arms finding their way around your body. His forehead was warm as it rested against your own, eyes shimmering with love and affection. “I can’t deny that. You’re the love of my life, you know. Even if you drive me crazy sometimes.”

You snickered, your hand sliding through his sandy brown locks, cold from the weather. “I love you too, babe. Even if you don’t have an ass.”

His blush worsened, spreading to the tips of his ears and he groaned, pulling away from you. “You’re such a jerk, Y/N.”

“I know,” you responded proudly.

“Just for that, you can start raking while I go and make some hot chocolate.” He poked you in the forehead, giving you no chance to respond before he headed into the house.

With a scowl, you scanned the mess of leaves scattered across the Yaku property. Why must having fun come with such annoying consequences?

“Hey, babe?”

“Hmm?” Morisuke glanced up from the assignment he was working on, his pencil stilling as he focused on your form across the table.

Your own notebook was open in front of you but the pages were blank, unmarred by the pencil. Your upper body was sprawled across the table, arms stretched out on either side of you as you balanced the pencil between your upper lip and nose.

Despite having called out to him, your attention was trained on the kitchen window, watching the trees swaying back and forth. You hated being stuck indoors when the weather was so amazing outside, but your boyfriend has insisted (read: forced) you inside to work on your homework, knowing that if he didn’t, it most likely wouldn’t get done.

It was the weekend, though, time to unwind and have fun from the stress of the week. Why should you have to be punished because the teacher was a sadist that likes to give a bunch of homework on a Friday? Like always, you were content to just binge it all on Sunday, but your boyfriend clearly did not approve of that approach.

“Can we go to the pumpkin patch?”

“Now?” he quirked a brow. “If we get a pumpkin now, it will be rotten by the time Halloween arrives. It’s best to just wait.”

You pouted at him but he had gone back to writing his essay, the pencil scritching across the paper. “I know that but I really want to get out! We don’t have to buy one, I just… I don’t know.”

He looked over at you, following your gaze to the window. You honestly looked miserable like a feral cat that had been converted to an inside cat and he knew you wanted nothing more than to just be outside.

Personally, he didn’t enjoy the brisk weather or the strong wind whipping around his body. He’d much rather be indoors with the heater on full blast, but this made you miserable and he hated that. He’d much rather sacrifice his own comfort if it meant being able to see you smile.

He snapped the notebook closed, setting the pencil down beside it as he stood up, the legs of the chair scraping against the wood. You sent him a curious look and he smiled in return. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s get going!”

Your eyes lit up and you jumped off the chair, throwing your arms around him and claiming his lips. His cheeks blossomed with color at the sudden assault but he didn’t hesitate to embrace you, tilting his head in order to deepen the kiss.

When you pulled back, your eyes were trained on his lips, making him shift uncomfortably. “What is it?”

“Your lips are super soft, Mori,” you pouted, running your tongue along your own lips that were slightly cracked from the cold weather. “Do you use chapstick or something?” He nodded, reaching into his pocket to produce the object in question and you took it, popping off the lid. “Ooo, it’s strawberry flavored!”

His gaze shifted to the side. “I know it’s your favorite…”

You realized that he chose to use this chapstick for you and it made you smile, heart fluttering. You gently cupped his face with your hand before running the chapstick gently across his lips. Before he could question your intent, you leaned forward to press your lips against his, carefully rubbing against them to collect the substance.

When you pulled away, you could feel the wax-like coating on your lips and you grinned. “I should apply chapstick like that more often~”

“L-Let’s not,” he coughed, using his hand to try and cover his burning face as he started toward the front door.

You followed him with a chuckle, slipping your shoes onto your feet before reaching for the doorknob. He stopped you before you could pull the door open, his fingers curling around your shoulder. You blinked at him. “What is it?”

“Put your jacket on, dork.”

“But I don’t wanna,” you responded simply. “I like feeling the wind on my skin.”

He huffed, hand finding his hip. “I’m not going with you if you don’t put your jacket on.”

“But it’s not even that cold,” you frowned. He turned on his heel, starting to pull his shoes off and you groaned. “Fine! Let’s compromise, okay? I’ll bring my jacket but I’ll wear it around my waist instead. Okay?”

He thought it over for a moment before sighing. “Fine.”

You nodded, wrapping the jacket’s sleeves around your waist before slinging the door open hard enough to bounce against the wall. “Let’s go~!”

A smile tugged at his lips as he watched you run outside, arms spread out and a burst of cheerful laughter bubbling from your lips.

You slowly walked down the rows of pumpkins, hands clasped behind your back as your eyes scanned the pumpkins of varying sizes and colors dotting the clearing – tall ones, fat ones, baby ones, even ones twisted into strange shapes. You could already imagine the different patterns of carvings in each one and it got you feeling excited for Halloween next month.

Morisuke was walking a few steps behind you, hands buried in his pockets to keep them hidden from the icy wind. His eyes were trained on you, content simply to just watch your happy expression as you scanned the pumpkins, darting from row to row. How you could be so content doing so, he simply couldn’t understand.

When your eyes landed on a small, caramel-colored pumpkin nestled between two thin, tall ones, you rushed over to it with a grin, settling onto your knees. You picked it up gently, showing it to your boyfriend. “Look, Mori! It looks just like you!”

“How do you figure?” his brow shut up as his eyes raked over the pumpkin.

“It’s the color of caramel, just like your popcorn hair for starters,” you snickered. “Plus plus, it’s small and cute just like you~ It was even nestled between two super tall pumpkins. This white one on the right here is clearly Lev while this reddish-orange one is Kuroo! It’s got a spikey leaf just like his hair.”

He really wanted to be annoyed by your comments and by the fact that you had just compared him to a pumpkin, but when his eyes met yours, shimmering with a childlike excitement, he could only smile softly at you. “It’s… cute.”

“Right?” You stood up, approaching him with the small pumpkin still clutched in your hands. “I know it won’t last, but… can we buy it? Pretty please~?”

His fingers tugged a small leaf that had caught in your hair before his fingers brushed against your cheek. “Sure, why not.”

“Our first child!” you chirped happily, clutching it to your chest as you jogged over to the small tent. It had been set up for the employees to escape the wind and keep the money tucked into a safe place.

Morisuke’s face burned brightly, steam rising from his ears at the thought of having children with you. The way you had phrased it made it seem as if you already planned to have children with him in the future or, at the very least, had given thought to the idea. His heart raced within his chest as you waved him over.

As he slowly approached you, he couldn’t help thinking about how he truly did want to spend the rest of his life with you.

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[lily-mj-fae]

High! Here's a prompt idea: Lucien and Elain going on a date.

Yes. This is adorable and I support. They might be mates but they still gotta get to know each other <3 Also fun fact this sent twice for some reason xD Gotta love tumblr right?

So here’s something cute. I hope you like it. Also, I’m obsessed with how Lucien calls her lady in acowar the one time they really spoke alone. Also it got longer than expected so it’s under the cut. But wholesomeness

______________________________

There had been a lot of chaos following the battle. A lot of recovery, people returning to their rightful places and just overall confusion. But as the dust began to settle, Elain had finally found herself wanting to know more. So she’d hunted down Feyre and asked her about mates. And in turn, Feyre had directed her to Rhys, claiming he’d do a better job at describing it.

It felt interesting to her, that there was this idea of a potentially perfect person for her. She’d once thought that was Greyson until her body had been changed against her will. And his love had been fragile enough to break for it. And seeing how well it worked out for Feyre, she almost wanted to see if she could have that too.

But it didn’t stop her from being surprised when Lucien returned, despite her own encouragement that he should return. But still, she could see the way he watched her.

It took her a little bit to approach him, but she did. 

“Hello,” she greeted.

He looked almost surprised by her interaction, cheeks blushing slightly. “Hello, lady.”

“How was the spring court?” She’d gotten the information from her sister about where Lucien had been.

That surprise only lingered, as if he hadn’t expected her to care about his whereabouts. “It was—It was as good as could be expected.” He’d felt rather at a loss there. It lost the feeling of home sometime even before he left.

“Are you going to stay long?” she asked him, quietly.

He gave a small shrug. “I’m not sure.”

Elain nodded, understanding. There was a lot to do, and he certainly played a vital piece of it. There was a moment of awkward silence between them.

“Feyre told me about a restaurant in the city that is really good,” she started. “But everyone is too busy to go…”

She felt nervous, shy to even be bringing this up. She had never been the one to do any kind of asking. And she wasn’t making it an excuse. Everyone was too busy to go with her, to take her. They all had important things to do and she….she didn’t. Even Nesta was the Emissary to the Human lands. Elain didn’t even know what she could do. But such offers had been given to her, and she was fairly certain it was because no one could think of anything useful she could do. Even she couldn’t when her only skills had included the social season, gardening, and now she was learning how to cook with Nuala and Cerridwen.

But Lucien seemed to understand what she was trying to say. “If you like, I will go with you, lady,” he offered gently. “I think it would be nice if we got to spend some time together.”

She smiled, brightly enough to light the room, as she had in the aftermath of the battle, knowing that she had her sisters. Though her heart had been broken by her father’s death, he died to protect his daughters. “I would like that, I think,” she told him.

He looked at himself and towards the stairs. They both resided up stairs on opposite ends of the hall. Though he planned to rectify that soon enough. He wanted his own space, and didn’t feel like living in a house with so many people again. “I would like to get cleaned up though. And we’ll find out where that restaurant is and head out,” he offered.

___

A few hours later Lucien waited by the small entry hall to the house. Elain had changed. She wore a dress of pale green with simple floral embroidery in a shade only a touch darker. She might have been a member of the night court, but Elain herself, with her honey gold hair—a pink flower tucked into a small partial braid—emanated spring. Lucien couldn��t help the smile as he saw her.

He himself had chosen a simple, but nice outfit himself. A tunic of green—an unintended coincidence no doubt—and dark brown pants. For a moment he almost felt underdressed, but she beamed at him, as if it didn’t matter to her. And he’d gotten directions from Rhysand earlier.

He held out an arm for her. “Shall we, lady?”

She nodded and took his arm, following his lead outside. She had been wanting to see more of the city, now that things were settling, now that she was sorting herself out. And it was nice to have the chance to get to know Lucien, regardless of the bond between them, knowing how much he’d meant to Feyre.

They walked in a silence for a bit, before Elain managed to speak, “I see why Feyre loves this city so much. It’s so pretty.”

Lucien glanced down at her before looking around them. “It is certainly unlike anything I imagined in the night court.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Lucien paused, realizing that she had come from a different world basically, and hadn’t grown up with the rumors. “The night court…it always had a bit of an unsavory reputation,” he explained carefully. “But now I know it was because this is what they’d been protecting.”

Elain remained quiet at that, not quite sure what to say. Though she could understand wanting to protect such a place.

“There are some beautiful gardens,” she said.

“Have you always liked gardens?”

She thought for a moment. “No. and yes, I suppose. Before…before my father had lost everything, before my mother died, our parents were always preoccupied. So I spent a lot of time in our gardens. When…when we lost everything, Feyre would buy seeds for me. And I found comfort in gardening.”

Lucien smiled, finding it sweet. But she continued to speak. “I still don’t understand why she did. I…could have done so much more. But I didn’t know what. Still, sometimes there were vegetables in that garden, and I made sure that those grew. And when everything came back to us, it was almost overwhelming. So I kept the gardens myself.”

“If I know anything about wealthy households, the servants likely didn’t respond well.”

She laughed, and it was such a beautiful, soft sound. But she shook her head. “No, they thought I was crazy…But I find gardens to be a piece of beauty. And peace.”

Lucien understood. Finding something that brought peace was important after war.

They managed to find their way in a peaceful quietness, enjoying the beauty of Velaris, to the restaurant. Sevenda’s. They were seated at a small table out sight of prying eyes. Both of them were known even here.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Elain said quietly when they were settled.

“It is my pleasure, lady,” Lucien responded.

She watched him carefully. “What does it mean to you? For us to be mates?”

That metal eye whirred and Elain could see the shock on his face. He hadn’t expected her to go there. He certainly hadn’t planned on bringing it up himself. So he thought about it for a moment.

“Well, finding my mate is something I always wanted…most males do,” he admitted. “It’s a rare and special thing. Of course, it’s not always the best match, but everyone hopes for it.”

Elain took a sip from her glass and continued to watch him. Waiting for him to answer the whole question.

“I am glad to know my mate is someone like you. And I’m glad to know you,” he said. “But I don’t want to force it either. Though, I have to admit, it goes against every instinct.”

She gave a shy smile, but nodded. Rhys had explained that to her.

When she still hadn’t spoken, Lucien glanced at her. “I would like to see if it could be a good match, for both of us. If that is something you’d like.”

“I want to get to know you,” she answered. “But I am still hurting, from losing Greyson.”

She felt it was only fair to tell him, to warn him that she had things to sort through.

“I am sorry, that it didn’t work out.”

Her smile turned a little sad. “Thank you.”

Lucien felt like he wasn’t good at this. But he’d courted Jesminda. His own personal heartbreak to remember.

Sevenda came back by, taking their orders before bustling off to the kitchen, leaving them alone again.

“What’s your favorite color?” Elain asked suddenly. Such a simple, sweet question.

“I think I found I always favored yellow,” he answered. “What is yours?”

“Pink. Like that of a cherry blossom.”

Soft and delicate, just like her.

Their food came out shortly after, and they ate, finding light topics to discuss. Lucien discovered that Elain enjoyed reading light romance novels, apparently she and Nesta both did. And that she’d recently taken up cooking, wanting to learn what she felt she should have years ago.

By the end of their outing, they’d found a certain level of comfort in each other’s company, and Elain walked just a little closer to him as they made their way back to the house.

“Thank you, for your company, Lucien,” Elain said as they entered the house and stood at the base of the stairs. Lucien immediately was aware of Feyre standing at the top of the stairs. Likely wanting to know that her sister was alright.

“It was my pleasure, Lady,” he answered, taking her hand and kissing it. Elain’s cheeks blushed a pretty red, and it was a sight he could get used to. “Any time you wish my company, I will be happy to oblige.”

Elain gave him one more smile before taking a few steps up the stairs. She paused to turn and looked at him, height about even, before she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Then she made her way up the stairs, likely to change and go to bed. But Lucien smiled after her.