#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 it; she's naturally blond but usually wears it in shades on the brown/red spectrum. she's done proper colors a couple times for different shows (red, blue, pink once), 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 or 3. 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.

[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.”

[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.

[lov3nerdstuff]

could you please make a loki x reader where he finds out how good she is at drawing/ art and it’s all just fluff?

Imagine: You just wanted to draw a beautiful stranger in a coffeeshop when suddenly everything goes pearshaped.

A.N.: Thank you @marvel-ous-buckyy for being the first one to request something! I did my best to put this prompt into action and I really hope you like it! It kinda turned into a coffeeshop AU but only a little bit :) let me know what you think!

Beautiful stranger

You were sitting in a small coffee shop downtown, shortly after 10pm, with a nice hot cup of steaming brew in front of you. It was your favorite spot in the whole city, all kinds of people came in for their daily caffeine fix. Some even came into the shop more than once a day. Especially this late at night, people came here more frequently than one might expect. As usual, you were sat on a small table in the middle of the room, your sketchbook in front of you along with a couple pencils and watercolors. No eraser, as you didn't believe in erasing when sketching. Whatever came out of your hand and onto the paper was worth to be kept or worked around. Other than that, there were hardly any huge mistakes in your drawing anyway. You had practiced your art all your life and nothing filled you with greater joy than sitting in public, drawing strangers or nature. 

Today was no different. You sat in your usual spot and after a few warm-up sketches you decided it was time for a larger and more detailed piece. So you looked around yourself, taking in the surroundings while taking a sip of your coffee. It was too hot still and burned your tongue, but the smell it emitted was just too delicious to resist.

Your eyes wandered from the seemingly daily-changing staff to the customers. Most just ordered to go and were out and about again at this time of night, but then your eyes fell upon a tall man with raven hair who was sitting on the opposite side of the shop. You blinked a couple times, trying to get your eyes to fully focus after having stared at your sketchpad for an hour. 

He was astonishingly gorgeous, almost surreal in his appearance. You coughed, awkwardly trying to swallow your own breath. Had you seen him here before? You were sure you'd had remembered seeing him.

You could see a little more than his profile from where you were sat. He looked down onto a journal he held in his hands. Blinking a few more times, you noticed how graceful and elegant his hands were, his whole physique. He looked out of this world, even if he wore a casual dark grey suit and a green dress shirt like most business people working late. His raven hair hung loosely around his beautiful face, framing it perfectly. 

What was a person like him doing at such an ungodly hour in a coffee shop? Well, you were also sitting here, touche, but for the sole reason that you wouldn't be able to sleep at home anyway. If the heavy insomnia you suffered from kept you up all night, at least you could use the time to draw in peace and be happy for once. 

Back to the beautiful stranger. The energy he radiated seemed to draw you in like he had his own gravity, only working on you. He was so focused on his journal, he didn't seem to notice your staring. His high cheekbones and sharp jawline were just screaming at you to draw them. 

So you started with delicate but certain lines, making sure to capture every detail of his being. Drawing the hair, you suppressed the urge to just walk over and run your hands through the black locks. It looked so soft… you tried to do it justice in your work.

Exactly there lay the problem you saw in your drawings. You wanted to capture the most magnificent and the most beautiful the world had to offer, but in your eyes you often failed to truly reflect their outer beauty. Instead, it turned into both, a structural and aesthetic representation of the emotions they conveyed. This time… there was so much sadness radiating off this man, but also so much passion and the pure intensity of it made your skin crawl with excitement. This drawing would turn out a masterpiece, you just knew it!

For a little more than an hour you drew and sketched, only then wondering why on earth he hadn't finished his coffee yet and left. Maybe he was here for something different after all? You didn't know and as long as he remained sitting in this same position for you to draw, you also didn't care why he was here. 

Once you finished the rough sketch, you went on to inking your work. Why hadn't he left yet? Usually the people you drew only remained sitting still for no more than the time it took them to finish their coffee or maybe the news feed on their phones. He was so different…

You finished inking a while later and he still hadn't moved. Not believing your luck, you went on to color the drawing, keeping everything in cool tones and rough textures. Except for his face. That, you drew with the utmost care and delicacy. Just as you were about to finish the piece, time seemed to stop for you, as a bulky and seemingly drunk man stumbled against your table and poured the contents of his to go cup all over your sketchbook. Immediately the ink and the colors started running together and off the page, replaced by black hot liquid. You let out a yelp, jumping up from your chair and knocking it over in the process. No, this couldn't be happening… It had taken you months to fill this sketchbook and now the whole thing was ruined. After a second of utter shock, you jumped into action and grabbed the first thing available to try to save what you could from the mess. 

"S-ssorry…" The man slurred, bumping into you on his way to the door, fleeing from the situation without another word. 

Using the hem of your shirt, you gently patted the book dry, but it was by far too late. A young barista came rushing to your side with a bunch of napkins, cleaning the table and offering some to you. Only now did you notice that your jeans were drenched as well as your shirt. But you simply stared at the heavily smudged, crinkling book in your hands. All these memories kept in there, all the emotions you could never have explained outside of their colorful visual representations. Gone. You felt tears stinging in your eyes and your vision became blurry as you suppressed a sob. The barista finished cleaning your tabe and apologized for the hundredth time to you, but you were lost in your own mind, tears running down your face even though you willed them not to. You hated crying, hated emotions and most definitely hated people in this very moment. Without any more care for your surroundings you slumped down on your damp chair again, starting to slowly gather your drenched supplies. You just wanted to leave, go back to your tiny apartment and cry in the shower until there wouldn't be any more tears left. 

Grabbing your bag, you pushed the chair back under the table and bid the staff goodbye. Outside, the cold but fresh air hit your face and you felt a little calmer. The night just happened to have this effect on you. 

Just as you were about to saunter down the street, a smooth voice addressed you from behind.

"Excuse me, Miss, but I believe you forgot your book." 

The voice made you shiver slightly, it was deep and calming, yet very in control. 

"It's a sketchbook, but it's of no use anymore. Some douche emptied his…" You stopped mid-sentence once you turned around and saw who the voice belonged to. The beautiful stranger stood so close to you that your breath hitched and you took a step backwards out of instinct. 

He was even more intriguing from up close. Your gaze shot to his face. He had green eyes that could've swallowed your soul if you kept looking at them. To your surprise, he seemed just as taken aback when he looked into your own orbs. 

A blush crept up to you cheeks in no time and you quickly looked down to the book he held out to you. It looked nothing like the drenched and wrinkled thing you had just thrown into the trash. Instead, it looked almost like new. 

Frowning, you took it from him. "This can't be mine, mine is all damaged…" 

You flipped it open in the middle, staring at one of your drawings from a few weeks back. Completely and utterly intact and beautiful as ever. Incredulous, you flipped back and forth, but every drawing in the large book seemed to be completely fine as it had been a few hours ago. 

"What…?" You breathed, your gaze shooting up to meet his once more. "How did you do that?" 

A slow smirk played on his lips as he watched your irritation with great amusement. 

"I noticed that you were drawing me." He simply said in this incredibly soothing and yet dangerous voice.

You blushed an even deeper shade of red. "When did you notice?"

"Oh, just about right when you ogled me for the first time." He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "When that guy dropped his coffee on your book, I was quite furious."

"And why is that?" You asked, gaining control of your body once more. Something told you to stay away from this man and something else, something much stronger, told you to learn everything you could about him.

"Well, I wanted to see how your drawing turned out. If you got the best angle, you know…" He winked at you, making you chuckle slightly. 

You took another look at the book and twisted it in every direction in your hands. "But how did you restore it completely, I mean, all the ink had started running and…"

You were cut off once more when, with a slight wave of his hand, the moisture and stains in your clothing started to simply float out of the fabric, before vanishing into thin air. Your eyes widened and you stared at him open mouthed. "Who are you?" You finally managed to ask.

"My name is Loki. Of Asgard. Or of Jotunheim. Depends on my mood, really. It's a pleasure to meet you, my dearest." He grinned at you, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

You snapped out of your awe rather quickly. He was the infamous Loki, a literal god?! That explains the magic. You hadn't heard all that much about him other than that he was the brother of one of the Avengers and capable of magic

You smiled at him. "I'm Y/N. Thank you so much for saving my book! It means a lot to me, really. Can I buy you a coffee or something as a thank you?"

He let out a small laugh. "Oh dear, I had so much coffee while waiting for you to finish your drawing, I don't think I can take another cup." His smile turned into a grin once more. "But you could let me take a look at your drawings. If they are only half as intriguing as you, then they'd be very much worth saving."

You let out a shy laugh. "You don't need to flatter me to take a look." But then, when you were about to hand the book over to him once more, you felt insecure. It contained so many memories and emotions you hadn't ever shared with anyone. And now you'd show them to a beautiful stranger? YES, part of your mind screamed. So you let him take it out of your hand and simply hoped for the best. 

He noticed the shift in your mood immediately and kept the book closed in his hands. There was something in your eyes that reminded him of his own and he felt the sudden urge to comfort you. That was new… he never really cared about the people he met and so he would always put on the charming facade everyone seemed to expect of him. With you however, he suddenly felt like he could try something new, something… true.

"If you are not comfortable showing these drawings to me, you don't have to, you know..." He said quietly.

"It's silly, I just… feel so vulnerable showing this real life imprint of my soul to a stranger." You laughed nervously and looked into his eyes once more. There was no trace of his previously cocky expression left and all you could see was sincere worry and… hope? Hope for what?

"Maybe… would you…" He seemed rather introverted now, as if someone had switched his personality for a different one. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

You smiled, a real and happy smile this time. This man right in front of you, this version of Loki, you liked much better than the previous one. It just felt more real fo you. 

"I would love to." You answered gently and the two of you took off down the street. 

For what felt like hours the two of you wandered the streets of your city, talking about everything and nothing. You warmed up to him quicker than you could believe for yourself and you felt like he opened up to you too, if only just a little for now. 

It was already about sunrise when you yawned. That hadn't happened in a long time.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night." Loki apologized with a small laugh.

"Nah, it's fine. I suffer from insomnia almost every night, it's a surprise to me that I'm still able to function." You brushed it off with a shrug, realizing only now how much you had told him about yourself in the past hours. And how much he had told you. It felt like you'd known him for such a long time, it was ridiculous. But something had just clicked with you and Loki and you could feel a serious crush developing. You were not sure if you minded it though, as he seemed to be quite enamored as well.

The two of you were still a block away from your apartment and yet you already felt sad. You didn't want to leave him just yet, but it was getting rather difficult to keep your eyes open.

"Do you want to come in? I… I could make you coffee or…" You turned to him once you stood in front of your building, hope all over your face.

Loki shot you his amazing smile in return. "I would love to, but I think that wouldn't be very appropriate." 

You looked down to your feet. He was standing so close to you, you could feel his warmth on your skin and even smell his cologne and it all made you want to just lean against him and let yourself dwell in his sweet embrace. But you didn't dare to just hug him, so you slowly reached out and first touched his hand with a single finger, gently brushing against his thumb. He got the sign and took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers and gently brushing over your knuckles.

"Do you… do you still want to?" You asked in a breath.

"Pardon?"

"Do you still want to see the… the drawings?" 

He nodded in return and you let go of his hand to find the book in your bag and place it in his hands. 

He looked into your eyes once more and you nodded, so he flipped the book open on page one. 

Slowly, one by one, he looked at every single page and all the while remained standing mere inches away from you. You didn't dare to look at his face, fearing to see a reaction you weren't ready to cope with. Time seemed to stand still for you; you heard nothing but his breathing and the flipping of pages. 

When he reached the last page there was utter silence. The electricity and tension in the air finally made you look back up again.

He was watching you with huge eyes, with an intensity you had yet to comprehend. 

Gently, you took the book out of his hands and placed it back inside your bag without breaking eye contact. 

"So…" You breathed. "What do you think of the…"

You were cut off by his chilled lips crashing against your own, passionate and capturing. 

There was nothing you could think, nothing you could do but kiss him back and let him push you against the wall behind you. 

This was right. So so right and you didn't doubt it for a second. The kiss was gentle, yet passionate and oh so sweet. His soul was reaching out to yours and worshipping it in every way possible.

"Y/N…" He growled when you broke apart, not daring to open your eyes for you feared this dream would come to an end. "How… how did you do it?"

You frowned against his forehead, which rested against yours. "How did I do what?" 

"You… you captured their soul. Every living thing you drew, it was just… as if you had taken their very essence and poured it onto the pages. The drawing you did of me, it's… I have never seen something like it. It's not mere beauty, it's the soul that…" 

You cut him off with another gentle kiss. "I dearly promise: your soul is safe with me."

___________

Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille

(fyi this is my other account besides @nightrose64 )

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 18

Getting around in Portia was pretty dang easy, all things considered.  It was a peaceful town; no one really expected theft or violence.

If she was an actual thief this would have been a dream playground.

But she wasn't.  She was far more than a thief -- even thinking of herself in that manner was insulting.  She was here for information...even the smallest detail could be important back home, and she was exceptionally good at picking out the right kind of details. ((Continued below cut))

With the simple locks on all the doors here in town it was ridiculously easy to go poking around for information; she'd always walked with a quiet and careful step and had spent her childhood accidentally "sneaking" up on people, which had drawn the attention of Duvos's allies within Lucien.  Between her mother's tips and tricks and some rigorous training within Duvos's armed forces she'd been a talented snoop even before she'd stolen her mother's scouting suit. This Portia job was considerably easier than any assignment she'd been given before and even without the suit on she could read everyone's mail, eavesdrop on whoever she wanted, she'd planted the Uplifter manual in a box in the neighboring clinic to uphold the illusion that it had been misplaced rather than stolen and carefully memorized, and Dr. Xu's desk always had up to date information regarding the upcoming construction effort to expand the clinic into a school and install the All Source AI here.

Everything she could feasibly find pertinent to her mission here was all within easy reach.

Dr. Xu's desk also held something far more interesting than the construction information too: she'd accidentally stumbled on some counseling records on one Elizabeth Summers...the folder that held them was dog-eared and worn -- they'd looked more used than the others there and that had drawn her attention.  Reading through those had been... To think that someone could have survived inside a fancy, high-tech tank for three hundred years. It seemed impossible and yet at the same time she had to marvel at what mankind had been capable of creating in ancient times, and she felt a sharp pang of jealousy and loss when she considered just how much they'd lost in the Calamity.

All that knowledge that woman must be carrying...first-hand information regarding the Old World -- advanced medical knowledge AND technical knowledge! That would make Duvos unstoppable if they had that in their grasp, and if only she'd known sooner about Summers then they could have planned to snatch her as well when they made their move for the AI.

Oh well.  If not now then in the future -- Duvos was going to eventually win.  They had to - their worldwide plans for humanity were too important to let sit unimagined: gathering everyone under ONE banner, ONE leadership, and everyone taken care of so there'd be no more fighting over dwindling Old World resources as mankind dug itself out of the crater the Calamity had left them in (a crater that now seemed leagues deeper after what she'd read in the counseling notes).

Granted, she could readily admit that Duvos's methods of getting everyone under one empire were a bit heavy-handed; it was understandable that the wider world wanted nothing to do with a nation they saw as violent warmongers.  But that opinion only made sense if people didn't bother to look beyond the outermost layer of the empire -- no one ever dug deeper to truly understand how Duvos was striving to take care of its citizens. One thing Lily appreciated about Duvos's claim to technology was everything they discovered or learned was immediately turned toward the empire's benefit, and its citizens reaped the rewards with more and higher paying jobs, higher crop yields of ever increasing quality, and the feeling of security knowing that THEY, at least, had nothing to fear from other nations daring to come in and take it all away.

Duvos would get the world back on track to becoming that utopia it had once been in ages past, and that would be so much easier if the city states and neighboring nations would just join together and stand shoulder to shoulder beneath the empire's banner.

It was an inevitable future that she wished the rest of the continent would see the sense in, and if they'd all just pick the easy route...

She'd spotted Evangeline walking down the road toward the harbor a few days ago and while she hadn't seen her since, nor had she seen Marcus, if she was here then he was too and it was good to know they had arrived and would be ready to move when the time came.  

There would be more than them, of course; as a security measure Lily didn't know who to expect (Marcus and Evangeline WOULD, though) but knew there'd be at least two more because Xan's original plan had been simple and to the point: once the All Source AI had been moved to the clinic they would break in, disable it, and take it and all its attached computer parts out to the open desert where a plane would be landing to take them all back to Duvos.  It had some inherent risk to it (all plans of that nature would) but they'd all been satisfied with it and everyone knew exactly what part they would have to play to make it happen.

NOW, however, with what amounted to a body double of the doctor that ran that clinic, they could step back and go a bit slower at it...carefully take things apart, pack them separately and carry it all out a little bit at a time over the course of a few hours instead of a mad rush with all of it on them at one time.  She was certain whoever else was sent along to help wouldn't mind the change in the plan, especially since Xan himself approved of it.

And they'd have Harrison on hand to help dispel any suspicion -- Lily didn't believe in any gods or anything like fate but the coincidence of the two men sounding so much alike AND there being a machine that could alter one to look like the other was almost enough to make her consider offering a "thank you" to the cosmos.  Harrison wasn't exactly the heroic type either and all he'd have to do is do as he was told to get his family and teacher back safe and sound - she couldn't see him being bold enough to try anything and risk someone getting killed so she didn't feel even the slightest hint of guilt over it!

Speaking of doing what she was supposed to do... Lily shook herself out of her thoughts and glanced behind her at the path she was leaving in the field as she walked.  The mud beneath her feet sucked at her boots but it did make it incredibly easy to push in the little colored row markers Sophie had given her; the farm had a multi-bladed plow contraption that was hauled along behind a sturdy draft horse and the old woman liked to have these markers out before the plowing started so not only would the rows be simple to keep evenly spaced but also so it was clear what seed was going where in the fields when planting time came (she'd tried explaining something about crop rotations and whatnot but Lily had honestly tuned her out halfway through her rambling).  

White for wheat (there was a LOT of white markers), yellow for cornballs (also quite numerous), various shades of green for peas, leafy greens, peppers, bamboo papaya, bright orange for potato fruit, purple for pumpkins, and bright blue for layered carrots.  She'd already marked out a small plot up near the farmhouse for herbs as well...she'd had the passing thought of asking for a plot to plant some flowers just so there'd be something here she'd actually enjoy tending to but there wouldn't be much point in that being as she'd be leaving soon anyway.  

Maybe when it was all said and done and Duvos had united everyone Lily could switch careers and get into some manner of horticulture.  It would be harder work than spying but it was hard to ignore how much she loved seeing  and caring for brightly colored blooms.

It was good to have goals, no matter how far out into the future they seemed.

...maybe they would start construction soon while the ground was soft, and all her goals would shift forward a bit in time.

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

Between training in the mornings, taking on her new patrols and postings in the early afternoon, and training Toby in the late afternoon through early evening, by the time bed time rolled around Eli was only too happy to crawl under the blankets and pass out.  

It felt good to be so active.  It was like being back in...

 Don't-

...no.  She couldn't shut this particular thing out.  That was too big a part of who she was.  She might not be in charge of this "squad" but it was like coming home; maybe it was the only real thing she COULD refer to as "home."  It was a topic she'd discussed with Dr. Xu during their sessions and they'd been carefully untangling her feelings regarding the whole thing: survivor's guilt, mourning what she'd lost, and trying not to feel guilty over building a new life that resembled her old one.  If she was going to keep moving forward then she had to stop blocking things out.

So.  Yes.  She could admit to herself it was like being back in her squad.  She NEEDED to admit that to herself, and embrace and understand everything that came with it, no matter how painful.

She'd just stepped through the doorway of her room when she heard pounding feet coming up behind her; as she turned Selene - smudged with oil and red in the face - came into view and the woman broke into a wide smile as she spotted Eli standing there.

"Oh good - I caught you before you fell asleep.  It's done!"

"...which "it" are we talking about here?" Eli prompted after a pause; her tired brain couldn't recall if Selene had mentioned anything nearing completion recently aside from work on cutting through the door.

"The rifle!" Selene laughed.  "Remington managed to find the pieces so I could cast off them and now I've got it all assembled -- I've got some ammo made too."

"Oh.  Well, wasn't expecting that."  Eli rubbed at her eyes and turned to follow as Selene gestured for her to come along; Selene practically jogged back to her factory while Eli followed at a brisk walking pace.  

The factory was still working away at making the components needed for the signal towers so it was as noisy as ever inside the building -- a section of the shelves against the wall that normally held Selene's collection of tools had been cleared away and there were neat rows of pieces and parts all laying together and shining brightly in the overhead lights.  A quick count showed that at least four signal towers' worth of parts was there...slowly but surely they'd have them done, assembled, and installed.

Selene led her over to a workbench against the wall to their left; sitting on a makeshift metal stand was a rifle that, while not quite what Eli had been using three hundred years ago, still looked enough like a rifle that she could immediately pick out all the individual elements in the weapon:

The safety was there above the trigger guard, the chamber was left open (it was a bolt action-style rifle), there was a polished set of iron sights installed on the barrel, and it looked like the butt was a decently thick section of rubber that had been repurposed off something else judging by the rubber remnants sitting in a pile next to a bin full of scrap.  Sitting in a semicircle beneath the rifle stand were nine bullets; they weren't a caliber she was familiar with (she felt it was safe to assume that they didn't measure bullets in the same way anymore). They were larger than the ones that went into the revolver she was carrying but smaller than the ones she utilized three hundred years ago and she was already debating how she wanted to carry them on her.

"I had Ack help me line the sights up - he may be a cook but his eyes work way better than any human's eyes would," Selene said as she carefully lifted the rifle off the stand and held it out to her.  "And, while they weren't exactly thrilled I DID have Merlin and Petra show me some ancient designs.  I based this on one of those old guns but had to use what I'm able to make so it has the uh - the little thingy-"

"It's bolt action," Eli interrupted with a chuckle as Selene gestured at the chamber.  "I know.  Back in my day these were automatic and you just loaded in a magazine that had a lot of rounds in it and they cycled as the trigger was pulled. True bolt actions were usually reserved for marksman competitions."

"Yes, that - the automatic thing I mean" Selene said with a giggle.   "I saw how it worked in that design but I just don't have what's needed to craft something like that reliably. Looking at that old stuff was weird though, since some of them had ammo that was like sand...?"

At the builder's question Eli nodded as she turned the rifle over in her hands; it was heavy, sturdy.  "I'm surprised you had plans or pictures of those still... They were specialized plasma rifles and they didn't use typical ammo.  They were also expensive as hell and broke down rather easily if you didn't keep them immaculately clean.   Basically grains of the ammo would fall into the chamber, and in one split instant would be turned to plasma and ejected -- that's the really, really, REALLY simple explanation.  I don't know enough of the science behind it to tell you exactly how to make one of those.  Heck, I doubt I could tell you enough on how to break down and clean one of them since I've only ever fired one a handful of times on a shooting range."

She picked up a bullet and slotted it into the chamber, then tested how the bolt moved; it was sticking ever so slightly - thinking on it Eli realized Selene probably didn't know how to grease or oil anything like this so before she even thought of test firing she should check the rifle out herself piece by piece.

"Has a bit of a stick to it.  Want to learn where all the grease is supposed to go?"

Selene thought a moment, then nodded.  "Might as well.  I greased and oiled what I thought needed it but I guess I didn't get enough in the right places."

Eli ejected the bullet and placed it back with the others then returned the rifle to the stand.  "It's possible, but it's also possible that whatever you're using might not be the right sort of thing for the job. We can go over that tomorrow though - I'm totally wiped for the night."

"Well why didn't you say something?" Selene huffed.  "It's not like it's going anywhere."

"It's fine," Eli chuckled.  She headed toward the door with Selene following along at her elbow.  "I'm always tired in the evenings lately...I swear, eventually I'll be back in top shape."

"And, then you won't be tired?"

"No, I'll be LESS tired," Eli corrected.

Selene stuck her tongue out at her.  "But still tired and you should mention that the next time I have something to show you so I don't drag you out of the house again."

"Fine fine," Eli grumbled, but smiled afterward.

They headed back inside the house with Eli headed toward her room again; Selene headed into the kitchen and a moment later stuck her head back through the door.

"Oh, by the way - I got more butter."

"Beat me to it, thanks," Eli called back over a shoulder as she again stepped through the doorway to her room and carefully closed the door behind her, and then leaned against the door as she debated grabbing a snack before bed now that she knew butter was back in the house.

Frequenting Martha's for loaves of that raisin bread was becoming a habit -- partly because she and Selene both went through a loaf in about two days (toasted and with a smear of butter was an amazing treat) and also because Eli wanted to try and help Martha offset any miscellaneous costs that might be cropping up because of her training Toby.  She already knew he was going through paper as he made himself reference notes and pictures but when she started in with the physical training aspect there'd be a possible uptick in food costs, and clothes would need replacing if they got torn or stained, boots would wear out quicker...

As she stood there just inside her door she could feel weariness pressing in like a weighted blanket dropped over her head; it was probably too late in the evening for a snack anyway, and if she had a slice of the bread now there wouldn't be enough left for their breakfast.

Pinky was sitting in the middle of her bed again; she rolled the cat over to make enough room to get her legs on the bed and under the covers, then settled in against her pillow.  As usual Pinky took her time getting comfortable and Eli winced a bit as the heavy animal briefly stepped across her knees; her legs were sore from all the walking she'd done today but she couldn't be bothered to get up to take an aspirin at the moment, and she mentally reminded herself she needed to pick up another bottle of it from Dr. Xu when she went in for her next therapy session.

They would be starting the construction on the expansion soon...Selene was nearly through that door.  She WOULD have been through the door yesterday if she hadn't run out of fuel for her cutting torch; it was quicker to order it from Vega 5 and have it shipped here than it was for her to gather up what was needed and try to refine it herself so during this little waiting period she was focusing fully on getting those signal transmitters finished and assembled.

That was going to be...interesting.  Those transmitters were going on top of tall metal towers and it promised to be a heck of a climb to reach the top, and there was the question of how they would haul the transmitter up there with them.  They would weigh about forty pounds each which wasn't TOO heavy, technically, but they'd be bulky and someone would be carrying one up a ladder...they should probably rig up a temporary pulley system to make it easier and safer on everyone involved when the time came to install them.

Well, whatever.  That was a problem for Future-Eli.  Now-Eli just wanted to go to sleep, and for her left calf to stop cramping.

Right as she was dozing off there was a quick knock at her door.

"Hey Eli - sorry to bug you but Asher's wondering if you're still up."

A couple of thoughts immediately raced through her mind: had the spy been caught?  Had the spy hurt someone?  If this wasn't a case of life or death should she strangle Asher now or wait until morning?

"M'awake," she mumbled.  She rolled out of bed (and Pinky immediately reclaimed her spot in the middle of the mattress) and paused long enough to put a bra back on before opening the door and padding barefoot to the living room where Asher was sitting on the sofa.

He was perched on the edge of the cushions, elbows braced on his knees and actually twiddling his thumbs as one heel bounced up and down.  When she came through the door his head jerked up to look at her; his expression was grim and she felt a small jolt of worry shoot through her.

"What's up?"

He opened his mouth to reply then paused to look her up and down.  "-uh."

"Yes, I'm wearing duck-printed pajamas, it's what I pulled out of the drawer tonight.  Why are you here?" Eli asked, trying to keep the hard edge of 'authority' out of her tone -- she was NOT in charge, Asher was NOT her subordinate, and it wasn't fair to be annoyed at him since she doubted he'd be making a social call this late at night.

"It's - well, I was hoping to talk on the way."

"The way where?"

Asher bit his lower lip and then huffed out a sigh.  "Graveyard."

Eli's eyes narrowed and she spun on a heel to rush back to her room and get clothes, boots, and her holster on.  Asher was standing at the door when she came back and she followed him out into the night; he set a quick pace across the yard and waited until they were beyond the gate before he spoke.

"Remington and I were walking to the Corps building from the Round Table, saw a light in the graveyard -- was pretty low to the ground, Remington was worried someone had left a candle lit out there so we went to have a look.  Right as we went through the gate someone took a potshot at us - it was way wide so I'm thinking it was clearly meant to be a warning shot, or a distraction to let whoever it was get away.   Remington went for back up and I kept going, looking and listening and using the stones as cover.  I combed the place over and didn't see anyone or get any more bullets in my direction, but..."

He trailed off as they came to the graveyard's gate, and pulled out a small flashlight and clicked it on; Eli tensed up and scanned the area, marking every shadow and mentally putting herself on high alert for any sort of movement or sound.  Asher seemed cautious but not nearly as cautious as she would have been with an active shooter on the loose; he knew exactly where he was going and about six graves in Eli realized where he was leading her.

Darren's grave was very distinct compared to the ones around it, and in the light of the flashlight she could see a message scorched across the stone:

 Neither Portia nor the world needs you

She felt the bite of her nails against her palms as her fists clenched, and there was the roar of her own blood in her ears as an immediate rage hit her.

"Oh you fucking did not, you bastard," Eli snarled before she could stop herself.  

"...what?" Asher asked after a moment.

...that had come out in Dubeian. Probably good that it had.  "I am not translating that," she replied.  She took a deep breath and slowly relaxed her hands; her palms were still stinging.  "And you didn't see anyone?"

Asher shook his head and quickly panned the flashlight's beam around the grave - the grass was flattened but none of the tracks were clear.   "Nope.  And I'm thinking I know why."

She tore her gaze from the gravestone and looked over to him; he was looking at her with a clear expression of concern on his face.  "You're thinking the spy's figured out who I am and where I came from."

"Duvos likes their technology-"

"-so they're going to make me a target, got it," Eli interrupted.   She reached out and took the flashlight from him and squatted to get a better look at the trampled grass.

As she'd initially determined the tracks weren't clear; they were all muddled together and she couldn't get a feel for the size or type of footwear that had been tramping around here and, for some reason, they simply stopped at the edges of the nearby graves.  She stood and had a look at the next grave over and could see grass and mud smeared across the top, and similar smears were on the base of the grave beyond that.

"...almost looks like our perp jumped from tombstone to tombstone to hide their tracks, except for here because they wouldn't have been able to balance on the bottom of Darren's stone AND do their fucking defacing without burning their own face off," she muttered.  "So what's their damn aim...try and intimidate me into leaving town and grab me off the road?  They picked the wrong bitch to try and scare off, I can tell you that much...  Where's everyone else?"

Asher gestured beyond the fence line.  "Sam went out that way, Arlo took Remington and went to check the ruins down the hill, and Mali is checking 'round the church and along the walls.  I cleared the cafe, commerce guild, and apartments, then got sent to go get you.  Adam's on alert out at the facility."

With a sigh that trailed out into a growl Eli ran a hand through her hair to push it back into place; some goddamn-- could she even blame this on the spy?  That had been both their immediate suspicions, and if Duvos knew about her she supposed it would make sense for them to try and grab her, but what if it wasn't even related to that?  Could be some church crony...Portia got a lot of tourists, ANYONE could slip in pretending to be there for the scenery.

"Have you told Gale yet?"

Asher shook his head.  "Not yet - Arlo wanted to clear the area first since we've got undeniable proof that there's an armed whoever out there.  Can't really let them have the run of the town.  I'm thinking they're long gone though -- no idea where to, but I doubt we're going to find them."

"And if they'd wanted to actually shoot one of you they could have..." Eli said quietly.  "You'd have to be a piss poor shot to miss a target that doesn't even know you're there."

"Yep.  And they could have followed up in the confusion too - we didn't know where it'd come from at first."

Eli panned the flashlight around slowly, marking out where the mud smears and even a few tufts of grass led; it looked like whoever it was had jumped the fence at the back of the graveyard...  She walked over and looked up and down the fenceline and could see where the grass had been disturbed but was quickly recovering from the trampling. With a grunt she vaulted over the fence and headed out, only vaguely aware of Asher calling for her to wait for him; he'd said Sam had gone out this way so maybe she'd found something by now.  

This was part of the tree farm so somewhere out here she'd come across the now well-worn footpath that would lead out to the facility; of course, there were also a lot of ruined buildings out this way that, while they'd been stripped down of anything useful, were still decently intact and could house and hide any number of persons who managed to get inside.  

Those ruins would both take time to clear and be especially dangerous to do so.

So much for sleeping tonight.

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

"At the very least Lee assures me that he knows of no such Church agent within Portia, and frankly he seemed genuinely disgusted and concerned by the idea that someone would fire on an innocent like that - not even enforcers would dare be so reckless."

Asher was only half-listening to the man; he was somewhat distracted by the burning need to find whoever it was that had shot at them AND defaced the gravestone so he could pound them into a fine paste.   Competing with that need was the thought that he couldn't decide if it would be better or worse for this latest development to be unrelated to the spy -- it COULD be someone related to the Church in some way - either a rogue enforcer or some random nobody who heard rumors and came to deal with it themselves: vigilantes weren't common but Asher had run into them enough times to know that if someone got it into their head that only THEIR narrowly defined world view was the right view then they felt justified in doing whatever they felt needed to be done.  And, of course, it COULD in fact be their spy trying to distract them and spread their numbers thin.  They all knew the facility and Stewart were the spy's target but if Duvos knew about Eli too...

"I feel we've little choice - we need to let the townspeople know at the next town meeting that there's an armed and dangerous person somewhere in the region," Arlo spoke up then.  "We can't risk someone getting hurt because they didn't know to be on the lookout."

"But the next meeting isn't for another couple days," Sam said.  "Do we want to risk something happening in the meantime?  Or risk letting whoever this is walk out of town freely?"

Remington shook his head.  "We can't do much about them leaving - we have no idea what this person looks like, and while it's not TOO common we do get folks coming through Portia who carry sidearms on them.  Not every traveler with a gun is going to be the person we're looking for."

That was something Asher agreed with. Guns weren't plentiful but they were still around, and while they tended to be small or have limited range they were still quite dangerous.  Thankfully a lot of them weren't all that accurate and so he'd spent all night (because who in the world could sleep after knowing someone shot at them?) wavering back and forth between believing it had been just a warning shot meant to distract them or if the person had actually intended to hit them but the weapon or their skill was at fault for the wide shot.  He was leaning more toward the warning shot still since, even though he and Remington had ducked for cover immediately, there had been plenty of time for follow up shots that hadn't come...but was he willing to stake lives on that assessment?  Even if THIS had been just a warning there might not be a warning the NEXT time.

"I think we need to tell everyone, immediately," Asher spoke up then.  "And I agree that not everyone with a gun is our troublemaker but if we see anyone armed we should at least keep an eye on them if we can.   Our guy probably came in over the fence from the tree farm, same way they left too - can we close the tree farm to any tourists?  Whoever this is might not be deterred by the need to scale the fence versus walking through the gate but at the very least we'd cut down on the traffic in the area since regular folks would be kept away."

Gale nodded.  "That's an idea -- better to disappoint people than put them in danger or let our culprit have the run of the farm."

Asher saw Eli stir out of the corner of his eye.  "Do many people tour the tree farm?" she asked.

"From early spring to early fall we do get a surprising number of folks wanting to see the apple blossoms and pick the fruit, and Dawa keeps a section of just the fruiting trees for that purpose.  Portia's emergency funds can certainly cover any lost wages that'll come from curtailing traffic to the farm."

"For now that seems like a good idea, and in the near future we're going to have all the signal towers up so that'll help us coordinate keeping an eye on things.  I told Selene about our newest visitor's antics and she's going to pull double duty to get everything made," Eli went on.  "We'll need to borrow some muscle to get them up and installed but then we'll all be in contact with one another no matter where we are in Portia."

Asher watched as she lifted and then waggled the wrist that her Hi-Def was strapped to.  "-that would make life a lot easier," he said into the pause that followed.  "One of us spots something, we ALL know about it immediately."

"Have we heard anything from anyone else?" Remington asked.  He was looking at Mali, and Asher turned his attention to her as well.

"No," Mali replied.  "So far as the Alliance's spies and scouts can tell nothing has changed within Duvos's territory -- no increases in labor, material acquisitions, or troop movements.  They're still occupying the Orzu Ruins and saber rattling at Ethea but nothing has escalated and we've not heard of any secret plans of theirs in the circles our spies have infiltrated.  If this person is working under direct orders from Duvos higher ups they're keeping it very well hidden."

Gale stood up and pressed his hands against his desk, slowly panning his gaze to look at all of them one at a time.  "All right then, it seems we have a tentative plan -- I'll spread word, and I hope you all will as well, that we're to have an emergency town meeting tomorrow night.  I would aim for tonight but I worry that wouldn't be enough time to make sure everyone knows about it -- we'll be cautious, and keep our eyes peeled for any trouble, and I'll go to Dawa immediately after this to instruct him to close the tree farm to everyone except for those there strictly for business purposes."

There was a lot of nodding at that; Gale inhaled and exhaled slowly and then moved out from around his desk only to pause and look toward Eli as she cleared her throat.

"Not to uh...sour the mood further, but what's your protocol on shooting to kill?"

The room went silent; all eyes, Asher's included, moved to Eli.  He supposed he shouldn't be surprised by it (she'd already shot at the spy once) but with the exception of Remington and Mali it seemed everyone else definitely was.

After a moment of no responses Eli shrugged.  "Sorry, but it needs to be made clear right now.  I'm armed, and I've already tried to put a bullet into our visitor once -- I wasn't wanting to kill and I didn't hit them anyway but I was ready to accept whatever consequences would've followed if I had, because I was essentially a private citizen then.   Now I'm part of your law enforcement.  I need to know if I'm allowed to use lethal force if it comes to it."

"IF it comes to that," Arlo said; his tone was a bit strained -- Asher wondered if the man had ever really stopped to think about taking a life.  None of the Civil Corps here seemed to carry a weapon and he doubted they'd ever been placed in a "them or me" situation with anything other than a rogue monster or robot (he knew Remington had seen action in Lucien so that would explain why the man didn't look so shocked at her question).  Cutting down some leftover relic or rampaging beast was a heck of a lot different from having to take down another person.

Eli nodded to him.  "Unfortunately I think it might, now that we know they're armed.  I'll do whatever I can to not let it get to that point but..."

She trailed off; Mali was nodding at her and Arlo noticed it.  For a long moment Arlo looked between Mali and Eli, then sighed and looked to Gale.  "I'd hear your opinion on this."

Gale pressed his lips together.  "Well..." he started, drawing the word out.  "You all know I've seen action myself.  The thought of killing is as abhorrent now as it was then but sometimes, you're not given a choice."  He turned to look to Eli.  "Being as you were formally trained and were a ranking member of your military I imagine you would know when it's time to use lethal force or not, and I feel I can trust you to use your judgement to avoid any unneeded loss of life."

"I appreciate the trust and I won't let you down," Eli replied.  "I'm not about to let this story become a murder mystery."

Arlo, Remington, Sam, and Gale all nodded knowingly; Asher looked to Mali and saw a hint of the same confusion he was feeling at the moment but Gale was ushering them out of his office now so he hurried out ahead of the others.

The sun was just starting to come up - a reminder that they'd all gotten hardly any or, in some cases, no sleep at all.  Asher had a running record of three days without sleep and hoped he wasn't going to be breaking that record in the upcoming days; Mali immediately headed out through Portia's gates to head back to the facility while Gale's steps appeared to be leading him back to his house.

"-any orders for the morning, Arlo?" Asher asked after a moment.

"I'd like you and Eli to comb the area over again, then separate out into your patrol patterns.  Sam - take on Remington's patrols this morning.  Remington - I'll need you with me.  I was supposed to be escorting Selene into the ruins to break down that door and get it ready to be hauled out to the facility to be installed but with her needing to focus on getting the signal transmitters done you and I will have to handle it ourselves.  She's showed me how to disconnect most of the wiring we'd be encountering so our task is to get it detached from the wall however we can and stacked together to be moved out of there.  Mint is taking charge of getting the install site prepped and ready and he'll be leading a team to retrieve the door when they're ready."

Ha, he'd almost forgotten about the plans for that security door; with that installed they wouldn't need constant surveillance for the facility.  That would be one less thing to juggle schedules with and maybe then they could focus on turning over every rock and blade of grass, and check every nook and cranny of the Portian countryside to find whoever their little visitor was and get them out of the picture.

They all began to separate out into their assigned duties; Asher walked side by side with Eli up the hill toward the graveyard again.  He felt a little jolt of anxiety up his spine as he walked through the gate into the graveyard but there weren't any shots fired at him again, nor did there appear to be anyone here.

"I'll take the northern half, you go south?" he asked.

Eli nodded and headed off without complaint -- which he was glad for as he'd purposely given himself the northern area because that's where Darren's defaced tombstone was and he didn't want her to have to face that again.

As he suspected there wasn't anything out of place or different from when they'd checked the area over earlier; the grass had mostly recovered from being walked on and if not for the mud smears on the gravestones you'd be hard pressed to tell that anyone had been through the graveyard recently.  

Still, he and Eli spent a good amount of time examining every stone and the strip of land on either side of the fence; then, with the sun up and his Hi-Def indicating it was going on nine o'clock, they both hopped the fence a final time and headed out into the tree farm.  

"So...if we were back in your time, how would you be handling this?" he asked as they walked.

For a few steps she didn't answer.  "...well, back then we had AI drones.  They could fly and cover a large amount of ground.  And, we had people out on foot searching too with specialized equipment."

"Did you have to do many manhunts like this?"

She shook her head.  "Usually they were rescue missions but sometimes yeah, we had armed people out making trouble."  She paused, then let out a snort.  "What I wouldn't give for my armor kit.  Weighed an absolute ton but it could withstand being shot by most weapons.  Having to do all this, LIKE this...makes me feel pretty damn useless."

"What?  How?"

She waved a hand.  "Nevermind.  Don't really feel like getting into it at the moment."

"Right.  Sorry," he said in a rush.  Once they got to the rear of the tree farm they would need to split off into their patrol routes.  "So, uh..."

"Hmm?"

"We get done - meet up for lunch?"

They continued on in silence for several more steps.  "-maybe.  Depends on what's happened by then."

He let out a sort of helpless chuckle.  "Yeah, true."

Again they walked on in silence and reached the point where their routes went in different directions; Asher walked along his for a few feet then turned around.  "Hey, Eli?" She stopped and looked over a shoulder at him. "What was the story comment about?"

"I'll tell you over lunch."

He grinned and started back along his patrol route.

[lallemanting]

59!!!!

ah kat! thank you for sending this in, sorry it took me awhile lol 💛 hope you enjoy!!

#59 from these autumn prompts: scary movie // also on ao3

Autumn is undoubtedly Eliott’s favorite season. The weather is cool and crisp, but not freezing. There are vibrant reds and oranges and yellows, coloring the world in shades of sunset at all hours of the day. The food is warm and rich and decadent, the stuff that clings to your bones a bit and makes you feel at home. 

Not to mention it makes a beautiful backdrop for a certain boy that never seems to leave Eliott’s mind these days.

He and Lucas have been teetering on that line for a while now is the thing. Eliott can’t help but notice the looks, the constant texting, the occasional flirting that took a while for him to catch onto. He’s always been a bit oblivious when it comes to that stuff, generally making the first move, making himself clear and letting the other person catch up.

But with Lucas it’s different. Eliott’s had a bit of a crush on him since he first transferred to his school – has always appreciated his deep blue eyes, the way his hair seems to have a mind of its own, the fierce loyalty he shows his friends. But at the time, when Arthur had first introduced him to Lucas, when he had welcomed Eliott into their friend group, Eliott hadn’t wanted to risk losing the only friends he had. Not to mention he’d still been with Lucille. So he hadn’t done anything about his feelings, just letting them stay there, close to his heart.

But a few months ago, things began to change. Or maybe it’s just that Eliott started to pay more attention. 

It was something Basile had said actually, that had made him start to wonder. They’d all been sitting at a café – Eliott, Lucas, Yann, Arthur and Basile – and Lucas had gotten up to grab another coffee. Bas had asked him to get him a snack and Lucas had told him to stop being a lazy piece of shit and get it himself. But then he’d turned to Eliott and quietly asked him if he wanted another coffee too.

Eliott hadn’t really thought anything of it at first, but Bas, annoyed at Lucas’ lack of empathy at his apparently growling stomach had leaned across the table, whining as Lucas had made his way to the counter. “Why does Lucas always do nice stuff for Eliott but not for me?”

Yann had shot Bas a glance, his jaw clenched. “Because you’re an idiot.”

That had made Bas go off on another tangent about how everyone was always mean to him, but it had made Eliott think. And the more he thought about it, he realized that Lucas did tend to treat him differently than everyone else.

Lucas was nicer to him, more attentive, paid him more compliments, invited him to more things. And maybe, hidden there in all of that, there had been some flirting. 

(But Eliott had always been bad at subtlety, so he wasn’t really sure. When he wanted something, he tended to go for it, lay his cards on the table in a way that really couldn’t be ignored. He’s never really had to do this before – play it safe.)

What Eliott does know though is that he treats Lucas differently. A good different. 

Because the thing is Eliott knows his heart beats faster when he sees his phone light up with a text from Lucas, is well aware of what he’s doing when he compliments Lucas just to see the way his cheeks blush in beautiful shades of pink, seeks out every opportunity to be near him, touch him. 

But he doesn’t know what it means for Lucas.

Maybe that’s the problem – it’s only ever been this surface-level stuff. Friendly banter, gentle flirting that could seem unserious, light touches that could mean nothing. And maybe it’s supposed to be like this, maybe Lucas wants this to be the extent of their relationship, but Eliott knows he’s falling and he’s falling fast. 

He can’t figure out if Lucas is falling too. 

It’s timing, after all. The timing has always been off. When Eliott first met Lucas, he’d been with Lucille, and even though he’d immediately noticed Lucas, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. And then they’d actually started talking and it turned out they got along great – better, in fact, than Eliott had ever gotten along with anyone before. 

But he sorted out his feelings too late, much too late. By the time he ended things with Lucille for good, the subtle flirting had just become part of their relationship and Eliott had somehow managed to become Lucas’ friend instead. 

It wasn’t that Eliott didn’t like being Lucas’ friend, but these days they walk the gentle line between friendship and what could be and it drives Eliott crazy.

They’re sitting at lunch one day towards the end of October, just the two of them. Eliott is trying to focus on his food, he really is, but there’s a bright yellow tree just outside the window they’re sitting by and the sunlight is streaming in at just the right angle and from where Eliott sits, Lucas looks like he’s been lit in a heavenly glow.

So when Lucas says something, Eliott has to ask him to repeat it.

“I asked what you were doing on Friday,” Lucas says casually. 

Eliott nearly chokes, his heart skipping like it does every time Lucas asks him to hang out. (Because maybe this time, it might mean something different.) “I don’t think I have plans.”

“Want to go to a movie?” And Eliott can’t help the way his thoughts spiral out of control at Lucas’ question. A movie? Just the two of them? 

He’s slow then, testing the waters, trying to figure out just what this is. “Uh yeah, sure. What movie were you thinking?”

“Well, there’s that new horror film you know, for Halloween? Thought that might be kind of cool.”

And there are two things Eliott knows with absolute certainty: 1) he hates scary things, especially horror films and 2) he’d go anywhere if Lucas asked him. So unfortunately for him, he’ll be going to this movie.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Eliott says like he’s not at least a bit hesitant to have to sit through an hour or two of intentionally scaring himself. But it’s fine, better than fine actually, because he’ll get to spend time with Lucas.

Lucas smiles at him, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Okay I’ll come by your apartment around 7? And we can take the bus to the theater together.”

Eliott’s mind is racing and he can’t believe that this might finally be what he’s been hoping for but then –

“We’ll meet the rest of the boys there since they live in the opposite direction.”

And oh, Eliott tries hard not to pay attention to the way his heart drops at the mention of the other boys. He likes them, he does, but this means it’s a friend thing, a platonic thing. It means it the same as it always is.

– 

On Friday Eliott finds himself sitting there in the dark theater, trying to keep his attention on the screen. He’s trying to focus on the idiot family walking into their (clearly haunted) house. He tries to listen as the father reassures his family that the rumors aren’t true, the house is just old. But the thing is – and isn’t it always this – Lucas is there, sitting so close to him their knees are almost brushing, and Eliott is finding it hard to pay attention to anything else.

It’s heartbeats and breaths and gentle knees. A glance as Lucas offers Eliott more popcorn, a little shake of his head to say no, the settling back into the seats, fingers inches from each other.

And Eliott is dying.

But it can’t be like this, he won’t survive the two hours in the theater like this, so he turns his attention back to the screen, trying to get invested in the movie (even if he knows he’s going to hate it).

And it’s just his luck that as he turns his attention back, focuses all his energy on the story unfolding in front of him, something black and dark and scary with a gaping mouth and dead eyes pops up on the screen and Eliott nearly screams.

It’s this, Eliott hates this feeling of losing control over his reactions, his body kicking into fight or flight mode, pulse racing, muscles frantic. He needs to be grounded.

So without thinking, in the split second that it takes for his eyes to catch up with brain, in the moment it takes between the fear and the recognition that it can’t hurt him, Eliott reaches for the one thing that makes him feel safe: Lucas.

His hand finds Lucas’ and then he’s clenching Lucas’ fingers tightly in his own, his shock from the scare making him lose his ability to fight the urge to hold Lucas’ hand, the urge he’s been pushing down for months.

He squeezes Lucas’ hand. And Lucas squeezes back.

It brings Eliott back into himself, that feeling of Lucas’ hand responding to his, pressure that anchors him, touch that sets him on fire. He glances over at Lucas and Lucas’s face is split into a wide smile as his eyes finds Eliott’s and he’s laughing, chuckling at Eliott being scared by the movie. Because to Lucas it’s no big deal, he watches these movies all the time, they don’t surprise him.

Eliott rolls his eyes and he’s very aware of Lucas’ hand in his, the feeling of skin on skin, reveling in his touch. But then he’s remembering that as much as he’s wanted to do this, they don’t do this. They don’t hold hands. It crosses their unspoken line, bends their informal rules too much.

And the last thing Eliott wants is for Lucas to feel uncomfortable. So as he turns around, eyes trained back on the screen, he moves, just a little, to let Lucas’ hand drop from his own, go back to that space of platonic friendship with a dash of flirting. 

But as he relaxes his grip, moves to bring his hand away, his eyes trained on the movie in front of him, he feels Lucas’ hand chase his, grasping it again and lacing their fingers together.

Eliott can’t breathe, he really can’t. They don’t hold hands. And they certainly don’t hold hands like this. It’s the line, the one that’s been drawn for so long – you can flirt, but only just. You can touch, but not too long. Interlacing fingers are not part of the game they play.

Eliott gasps at the contact, reveling in how good it feels to have Lucas’ palm against his, fingers intertwined, knitted together under the armrest, resting on the scratchy fabric of the seats. He glances back towards Lucas, looking for a sign, something that will tell him why Lucas is doing this, why now. But all he finds is Lucas looking stoically ahead at the film on the screen, though maybe the hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips. It’s too dark to see clearly. 

And Eliott could panic. He could snatch his hand back, break the contact rough and sharp, stay behind the line that’s become his comfort zone, scared that moving outside it might change their relationship irrevocably for the worst. That he might lose Lucas, his deepest fear realized, ending up alone.

But now Lucas, it seems, is pushing that line a little farther, pressing on the limits of what they’ve allowed, testing to see how Eliott responds. And if this is his chance to make his case, Eliott can’t let it slip away.

He pulls their joined hands onto his lap and lets them rest there, tracing shapes with his thumb. He turns back to the screen and normally he’d have to look away, normally he’d be hiding his eyes, fear gripping his chest, heart beating rapidly as he watches terror unfold.

But a different kind of fear has taken its place, with Lucas there, hand in his. But this fear is lighter, more exciting and daunting. Less fear really, and more nervousness, his mind racing quickly thinking what is this, what does it mean? And there aren’t answers yet and there can’t be, not really, as they sit in the dark, fingers laced. 

In the end, Eliott doesn’t watch the movie really. The pictures flash in front of his eyes, but his heart is beating so loud it drowns out the screams and creepy music echoing from the speakers. For a moment, Eliott almost laughs to himself at the setting because he’s always been a hopeless romantic, has imagined holding Lucas’ hand like this for so long but it’s never had this backdrop – no matter how fitting for an October evening. 

But it doesn’t matter really, because sitting like this in this moment, the only thing Eliott knows is the fire burning in his chest, Lucas’ gentle touch the spark that set it aflame.

–

When the credits roll and the lights begin to come up Lucas finally lets go of his hand. They must have been sitting there like that for nearly an hour. But Eliott gets it –  the light always makes it harder.

Eliott is also a little grateful because the last thing he needs right now is for one of the other boys to see and ask about it. It would undoubtedly become a thing and Eliott doesn’t think he’d be able to keep of his facade of being only interested in Lucas as a friend if he gets hit with too many questions.

So when the lights turn on, Lucas pulls away and Eliott lets him go. 

As they all make their way out of the theater, Eliott finds himself in a daze, his head swimming, his heart bursting, nervousness piercing his chest. And he looks to Lucas for the next move, for what comes next, only Lucas isn’t looking to him.

In fact, Lucas doesn’t look at him at all as they walk out of the darkened room, down the hallway to the lobby and eventually out the doors onto the sidewalk. Instead, Lucas runs up to whisper something to Yann and then they’re joined by the rest of the boys loudly talking about the parts of the movie that scared them or were particularly gross, as Eliott trails behind. 

Out on the darkened sidewalk, out in the cool night air, the fire that had been burning is starting to wane and Eliott feels his confidence and excitement failing him as Lucas continues to ignore him. Sure, Eliott wasn’t expecting a frank discussion of what happened in front of everyone else, but maybe just a glance, something to let Eliott know it affected Lucas as much as it affected him.

As they all stand there saying their goodbyes, Eliott starts to panic. Because this is where they head off in separate directions, where Eliott and Lucas generally head to their area of the city, and the other boys go the other way. 

And Eliott had thought they’d be heading back together, him and Lucas, but Lucas is standing off to the side, whispering with Yann and maybe, Eliott thinks, he’s trying to find a way to stay over at Yann’s so he can avoid the awkward walk home with him. 

Eliott’s thoughts are spiraling a little out of control when Yann suddenly gives Lucas a look and shoves him gently in Eliott’s direction. 

“Come on boys,” Yann says loudly, clapping Arthur and Basile on their shoulders. “Let’s head out.” He nods in Eliott and Lucas’ direction, where Lucas has ended up standing closer to Eliott, his back to him. “See you two later.”

And then the other three are turning up the sidewalk and heading out into the darkness, leaving Eliott alone with Lucas. His heart is beating so fast, Eliott is scared it might burst out of his chest.

He just needs to reassure Lucas, he thinks, make sure he knows they can still be normal, that it doesn’t have to be anything more, no matter how Eliott feels. He opens his mouth to say that when Lucas whirls around.

His eyes meet Eliott’s for the first time since they left the theater and there’s something new there, that Eliott can’t quite place. It’s not bad, but it’s strong, determined. He smiles gently at him. “Can I walk you home?”

Eliott nods.

It’s not a particularly long way to either of their places. The bus is quicker, but Eliott and Lucas had both gotten in the habit of walking home when it wasn’t too far and there wasn’t a certain time they needed to be somewhere. They could take their time that way, hang out for just a little bit longer. Or, at least, that was always why Eliott had suggested walking.

They walk in relative silence through the dark streets, night falling earlier and earlier with each passing day. It’s rained since they’d gone in for the movie, the cobblestone streets reflecting in the light from the lampposts, and leaving the air cool but fresh, a slight mist swirling. Eliott takes a deep breath. He loves nights like this.

They’re walking side by side, and despite Eliott’s fear, Lucas isn’t really keeping his distance. Their shoulders are close, their hands closer, and Eliott can’t help but notice the warmth of Lucas’ body next to him. 

Eliott wonders if he should say something. There’s silence, yes, and it’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but he also doesn’t want to go home without at least talking about it. He turns words over in his mind trying to knit them together into something smooth and cohesive, something to mask his nervousness, his feelings, as they get closer and closer to his apartment.

And they’re walking so close it’s bound to happen and maybe, Eliott thinks later, it was intentional, but their knuckles brush as their hands hang at their sides and Eliott feels the fire light up again.

So it’s not his fault, really, when he reaches for Lucas’ hand again. When he grabs Lucas and tries to intertwine their fingers like they had only a little earlier in the evening. 

Only he feels Lucas stiffen slightly at his touch, pulling his hand away and then Lucas stops moving, rooting himself to the concrete sidewalk.

All Eliott can think is shit and then he’s feeling slightly nauseous as he turns to face Lucas where he’s stopped on the street, bracing himself for what he’s sure is coming next. Kind, gentle words that will inevitably break his heart.

And when he turns to face Lucas, he finds him staring straight at him, his face slightly contorted, a little frantic. Lucas takes a deep breath and Eliott suddenly loses the ability to speak.

But luckily it seems like Lucas has also been thinking of things to say on their walk because he’s taking another deep breath as he looks at Eliott.

“Eliott,” he says quietly, his voice small in the darkness. “When you held my hand in the theater, were you holding it because you were scared or because it was my hand?” 

And Eliott wasn’t really prepared for a question, and certainly not that one. He swallows, his eyes flickering over Lucas’ face, trying to discern why he’s asking.

“Eliott,” Lucas repeats and Eliott knows he can’t get away without answering.

Eliott shrugs, his hands finding the pockets of his jeans as he tries to keep Lucas’ gaze. “I uh...well,” and it’s now or never, “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

And Lucas is still looking at him, but he’s burning brighter, if that’s possible, as Eliott speaks. Eliott feels the words hang heavy, because for the first time, Eliott has intentionally crossed that invisible line they’ve drawn, has been clearer than he’s ever been before about how he feels. And he hopes Lucas hears him, he hopes it wasn’t a mistake.

Lucas isn’t saying anything again, and his gaze drops to the floor as he takes a deep breath. Eliott is just starting to regret saying anything at all when Lucas looks back up at him and something is there that wasn’t before.

“Fuck it,” Lucas whispers, his eyes blazing, and then he’s taking the last two steps towards Eliott, grabbing his face and kissing him quick, pressure barely there and then gone again.

Eliott’s eyes go wide, and he has no chance to respond, the pressure of Lucas’ lips against his own barely there long enough for his brain to register it as something other than wishful thinking.

When Lucas pulls back, his hands stay on either side of Eliott’s face and he’s looking at him like he’s waiting for some sort of reassurance that they’re on the same page.

And even though Eliott’s imagined confessing his feelings to Lucas hundreds of times, he’s not prepared for this, was never prepared for Lucas to make the first move, so the shock takes over and his mind goes blank as his heart soars.

He can’t believe this is finally happening.

Only, maybe Lucas can’t tell what he’s thinking because suddenly Lucas’ warm hands are gone from the side of his Eliott’s face, and moving instead to cover his own as he steps away from Eliott.

“Fuck,” he moans, hiding his face in his hands, “I am so sorry, Eliott. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He moves his hands, letting his arms drop to his sides, but he’s looking at the ground. “I just, I don’t know, I let myself get excited when you held my hand and…”

“Lucas,” Eliott whispers, as his brain catches up with him.

“Fuck,” Lucas says again. “I’ve just had a crush on you for so long and Yann was saying…” He manages to lift his eyes then, locking onto Eliott’s. “Well it doesn’t matter what Yann was saying. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same–”

Eliott doesn’t let Lucas finish. He can’t. Not when he’s looking so sad under the yellow glow of the streetlamps, his hair messy from the wind, his cheeks pink from the cold (and a little from the moment, Eliott thinks). He reaches out, one hand clasping Lucas’ wrist and he pulls him close, the other hand reaching up to brush along Lucas’ cheekbone, moving to wrap around the back of his neck.

And then their lips are touching again, only this time it’s stronger, more sure, because Eliott knows. I’ve just had a crush on you for so long.

It takes a minute for Lucas to catch up but then he’s relaxing in Eliott’s embrace and he’s kissing Eliott back, strong arms wrapping around Eliott’s waist, pulling him closer. They sway into each other on the sidewalk, lips moving, Lucas grasping at the front of Eliott’s jacket, Eliott cradling Lucas’ face in his hands.

It’s like a dam has opened and Eliott can’t get enough. He pulls back from Lucas slightly, laughing, unable to stop the smile that’s spreading on his face. 

“So if you couldn’t tell, I have a crush on you too,” Eliott says, letting his thumbs dance across Lucas’ cheeks.

Lucas grins at him, shaking his head slightly. “I think I got that,” he whispers, closing the space between them again.

Lips touch, mouths open, and the line, the one they drew for so long, is smashed to pieces. But they don’t think twice as they leave it shattered there on the sidewalk. With Lucas’ hand in his, for real this time, Eliott thinks there something to be said for breaking rules.