#bee when will you stop drawing just heads? never because they sooth me

[state-of-beeing]

Some messy sketching while I think about this design again.

[stitchdfox]

Eddie on tour pt 5

“Why is your tour so short?” Steve asks, curious.

Eddie walks down the street on the main drag in St. Louis. They have a rare day off before their show and he’s enjoying the strangely cool day.

“They only asked us on for the first leg of tour. Some other yahoos get to take our place opening on the second leg.” Eddie pulls his earbuds from his leather jacket pocket, tucking Steve’s voice into his ears.

“Hmm.” Steve takes a second to reply. “Is that good or bad?”

“Can it be both?” Eddie asks. “It’ll be nice to sleep in my own bed again. But the rush of playing in front of a crowd, in these beautiful venues, that I’ll miss.”

“You’ll book another tour soon. I’d put money on it.”

Eddie grins from ear to ear. “What makes you so sure?”

“Eds. I don’t listen to metal. Like. At all. But I enjoy the music you and the guys make. It feels very you and I love listening to… I’m an 80s pop guy! And I can’t get enough of Corroded Coffin.” He clears his throat, “for what it’s worth.”

“It’s worth a lot, sweetheart.” Eddie’s dimples grow deep as his smile widens.

“Enough about me. What trouble have you been getting into lately, big boy?” Eddie eggs him on.

“It’s so boring over here. Just trying to make it through summer classes.” Steve sighs.

“But what do you do for fun?” Eddie asks as he walks into a coffee shop. The music is low and he orders an Americano with room for milk.

“I don’t really. I mean, I used to swim but I haven’t since high school.” Steve’s voice goes low. “I’m nothing special.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow. “You take that back.”

“Huh?”

“You do not get to talk about my favorite person like that.” Eddie snarls to emphasize his point. “You’re incredibly caring, you’ve put a lot of work into figuring out who you want to be, and you’re going to be a councilor. Not because it’s easy but because you want to help people.”

“Okay, okay. Calm down, baby.” Steve sounds flushed.

“I will not.” He smiles at the kind barista as he picks up his drink. He adds milk and sugar, giving it a stir.

“Eddie.”

“Now that we have that out of the way, what do you do for fun?” Eddie’s voice is more even and soothing.

“Mmm. I do like to draw. I have a few sketch books here and I don’t really show anyone what I work on.” Steve pauses. “I think I’d like to try painting.”

“That’s a brilliant idea.” Eddie walks out of the coffee shop and perches on a bench near by.

“Question,” Steve prompts.

“Hmm?” Eddie sips his coffee.

“Am I really your favorite person?” His voice cracks.

“Uh… yeah. Yes. Please don’t tell Jeff.”

“That’s the first thing I’m telling him when I meet him.” Steve laughs.

There’s a comfortable silence between them now. Eddie breathes in deep as he looks at the sky. He hasn’t shared a quiet moment like this with anyone before. He always feels the need to fill the silence. Worried for some reason or another that the person is bored or bothered or annoyed. But with Steve, with this man on the other end of the line, he feels content. His anxiety wasn’t buzzing around like bees in his head. It was just the two of the here in this moment, miles apart, but together.

“Hey Eddie?”

Steve’s soft tone feels like flowers blooming in Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah?”

Steve clicks his tongue. “Never mind.”

“Okay.” Eddie fiddles with his rings. He hums a tune that’s been stuck in his head.

“Don’t you want to know?” Steve pries.

“Of course! You changed your mind though so I’m not gonna push it. I’ll be here if you change your mind again.” Eddie’s lips purse as he reassure the other man. He whistles.

“Okay,” Steve’s next words rush together. “I was wondering if you were staying in a hotel room tonight and if you’d be alone and if you’d be interested in maybe talking like um, more intimately and I don’t want to assume anything. I just can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t know if I can wait until I meet you or even if you’d want to go any further and I feel like a weirdo asking—“

“We are treating ourselves to a hotel tonight,” Eddie cuts him off.

“Does that mean… is that a yes?” Steve’s pitch raises with his question.

“Can I admit something?” Eddie asks.

Steve swallows, “of course.”

“I haven’t had phone sex before.” His face turns red and even though Steve can’t see him he pulls a bit of hair to cover his mouth. Embarrassed.

“Me either!” Steve shouts and then goes shy. “Think, uh, think you’d like to give it a try?”

Eddie hums playfully.

“I do like telling stories,” he muses. “And I’ll have to tell Jeff to get lost for a while tonight. He will definitely give me shit for that.”

Steve is quiet.

“You know what?” Eddie throws his free hand in the air. “For you, sweetheart, I’m in.”

“You’re sure?” Steve whispers.

“Mhmm. As long as you don’t get jealous of my sweet, sweet story telling skills.” Eddie says breathy.

“It’s not like bed time stories, you know that, right?” Steve questions.

“You haven’t been to one of my D&D sessions yet. You don’t know what you’re in for.” He gloats.

“Clearly.” Steve chuckles again. “Well, I gotta head out. I’m having lunch with Robin in a bit.”

“Tell her I said hi and I can’t wait to meet her backstage.” Eddie grins.

“What do you… seriously? She’s gonna flip. You’re so wonderful.”

“VIP badges will be at will call just for you two.” Eddie bites his lip. “Talk to you later, Steve.”

“Can’t wait.”

Eddie ends the call and texts Jeff.

/Eddie/: I’m gonna need the room for a while tonight. No questions asked.

He sips the last of his coffee. His phone chimes.

/Jeff/: youre gross. I’ll just cuddle up with GareBear tonight.

/Jeff/: I don’t gotta know what you’re getting into but I feel like I should congratulate you or something.

/Eddie/: I’ll accept my medal at breakfast tomorrow.

/Jeff/: Seriously. You’re gross. 😜

Totally worth the endless teasing ahead. Now what was he going to do with the rest of his day? He spots a small artsy store front across the way. He crosses the street and bobs in.

——

I love them, your honor. Prepare for smut in pt 6. 🫣

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6 coming soon with the promise of smut!

Follow me on Twitter if you’d like!

[siphoklansan]

You did iuuru’s bodyguard Leona so dirty 😭 if you cant draw then dont? Sorry needs to be said xx

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? -

[dadsbongos]

Katsuki Bakugou having an airhead gf for about 1130 words

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Katsuki Bakugou/Reader Warnings: airhead shit ig, I just got diagnosed, so I gave you ADHD because :D Summary: Katsuki never thought he’d be a fan of airheads, but here he was - holding one in his arms like he’d lose her anytime. ~~~

“Why the wide smile, dork?” Katsuki side-eyed his girlfriend.

“Because,” (Y/n) giggled, squeezing tighter at her boyfriend’s - admittedly sweaty - hand, “you came with me! You don’t usually do that.”

“Whatever,” he gruffed, “I just wanted to spend time with my girlfriend, that a damn crime?”

“No! You should do it more often,” the girl smiled, “Like all the time.”

“Maybe you’ll start training with me, hah?” the blond teased.

“No way,” (Y/n) immediately pouted as the couple walked down the street from their dorms, “Your training’s crazy! I think I'd die…”

“You wouldn’t die, dumbass,” Katsuki huffed, “I didn’t date you just to kill you.”

“I’d hope so,” the girl mumbled quietly.

~~

Tracing over the hand laid against her stomach, (Y/n) closed her eyes with a small smile as Katsuki pressed his cheek to her shoulder. Fresh slivers of golden sunlight peeked through the boy’s blinds as morning arose to wake the couple. Katsuki, for as much as he wanted to deny it, found it hard to sleep without (Y/n) - without her warmth and comfort. Something in the body he could hold so close to his was inexplicably soothing.

Neither party was asleep anymore, simply basking in the glow of morning as soft sheets spread over their lackadaisical bodies. (Y/n) turned the hand over her midsection to face palm-up and began gently running her fingers over the firm flesh there as well.

“You have pretty soft hands, Kacchan.”

“It’s some shit with my Quirk, I don’t get it,” he mumbled, “Don’t get me started on the suppository shit, that made me so pissed to find out.”

“What’s the suppository stuff about?” (Y/n) quirked a brow, looking to her boyfriend despite his eyes being closed.

“Anal fissure rectification,” Katsuki pressed his lips into a thin line, knowing he’d have to rephrase or his girlfriend wouldn’t understand, “Tears in your asshole get healed with nitroglycerin and since my sweat’s so similar, I bet it’d work too.”

“Gross,” the girl fake gagged, still drawing circles in her boyfriend’s palm, “That sucks. I’m sorry you had to learn that.”

“Helps with chest pain too, so it’s not complete shit,” Katsuki huffed, shifting so he was even closer to his girlfriend, “But that was horsecock to find out.”

“I love the way you phrase things.”

“I try.”

~~

“Man, Bakugou,” Denki murmured, watching as (Y/n) and Momo battled on the other side of the gym, “I didn’t know (L/n) was so strong. Kind of inspiring, now I wanna be more like her.”

Katsuki’s brows furrowed, he loved (Y/n) - dearly - but, “I saw her drop a pizza and cry about it for thirty minutes last night.”

~~

“If I illegally download a movie in the Bahamas, does that make me a pirate in the Caribbean?” (Y/n) suddenly asked as Katsuki was doing his homework.

Pausing, the blond turned in his chair to look his lover in the eyes, blinking at her twice before sighing, “Did you take your Adderall today?”

“...maybe…”

~~

“I hope I get run over,” Katsuki grumbled, reading off the pairings for the newest team-building exercise.

“Aw, don’t say that!” (Y/n) cheered, patting her beau’s back, “Kaminari isn’t all bad, he’s super nice!”

“You’re just lucky you got Ponytail, she’s the only useful extra here,” the boy huffed.

“Hey,” (Y/n) puffed out her cheeks.

“Stop whining,” Katsuki rolled his eyes, ignoring the calls of his name from a certain electric blond, “You’re not an extra, I don’t see why you’re pissed.”

“I’m not?!”

“Fuck no, I wouldn’t date a nobody.”

~~

“If a whole zoo escaped, what would be your top priority?” Mina suddenly blurted out.

Just as (Y/n) went to say ‘ducks’, Katsuki answered, “Tigers and lions, duh.”

“Right,” the girl nervously chuckled, “Obviously.”

~~

“Katsuki?”

“What?” the boy turned to his girlfriend, slightly disturbed as she never called him by his proper legal name since realizing she didn't have to.

“I’m scared,” (Y/n) fiddled with her fingers, “I threw a boomerang a few years ago and it didn’t come back, what if it hits me and knocks me out while I’m in class? Or while I’m on a mission?”

Katsuki’s face dropped into a deadpan, “Are you joking?”

“No.”

“Alright, come here, I’ll tell you a secret,” he waited for her to come closer, “I destroyed the boomerang,” at (Y/n)’s shocked face, he nodded solemnly, “It came in while you were sleeping a few weeks ago, I didn’t say anything cuz I knew you’d flip the fuck out.”

“Wow!” (Y/n) smiled brightly, taking her boyfriend into a tight hug, “You’re so cool, Kacchan!”

“I know.”

~~~

Looking over her study guide for the upcoming economics unit, (Y/n)’s brows furrowed, “Inflation? Isn’t that like… a kink?”

Katsuki’s head snapped over to his girlfriend as she sat at her desk, “Tell me you’re joking right now.”

~~

“If I was hiding from a killer, I’d just hide in the pantry!” (Y/n) beamed, “That way, I could eat while hiding, it’s simple.”

“Yeah, then the killer could hear you opening loudass chip bags, it’s genius,” Katsuki sighed.

~~

“I hate everyone in this school,” Katsuki grunted.

(Y/n) frowned, “Even me?”

“I said everyone, (Y/n), not every ten.”

~~

“Someone’s gotta talk to Denki about the birds and the bees,” Hanta shook his head, “Not gonna be me.”

“Huh?” Denki queried a brow, “A talk about what and who?”

“I’ll teach you about the birds and bees,” (Y/n) nodded sadly, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “They’re disappearing at an alarming rate.”

~~

“The recipe says to beat three eggs,” (Y/n) read off the box of brownies.

“At what?” Katsuki snorted, “Hand-to-hand combat?”

“Has to be,” his girlfriend seriously replied, “Aizawa banned Quirks in the kitchen.”

~~

“Wanna hear a sad joke, Kacchan?”

“Why fuckin’ sad?”

“Oh, autocorrect, I meant dad.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed at (Y/n), “This is a verbal conversation.”

~~

(Y/n) looked up from the bed sheets in the nurse's room, “You can call it a near-death experience, Recovery Girl, but I call it a vibe check from God.”

Katsuki immediately shook his head, “Stop… please stop.”

~~

“Stress is not good for the baby!” (Y/n) shouted, gripping at the sides of her head.

Katsuki looked over, “What baby?!”

“Me!” the girl sniffled slightly, looking on the verge of tears with her study guide and notes spread out on her desk, “I’m the baby.”

Awkwardly looking away, Katsuki clenched his eyes shut before throwing his arms open and wrapping them tightly around his anxious girlfriend, “Tell me when the stress levels are down, you big baby.”

“Thanks, Kacchan.”

“Whatever, nerd.”

~~

“Hey, does it smell like gas in here?”

(Y/n) pat herself down before pulling out a lighter and igniting it, “Nah.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened as his girlfriend casually placed the lighter back in her coat pocket, “Oh my fucking God.”

~~

“Careful with my emotional baggage,” (Y/n) reminded Eijiro as he loaded her things into the trunk, “It’s designer.”

“He knows,” Katsuki rubbed at the bridge of his nose, “You say it every time.”

(Y/n) nodded, as if her boyfriend was stupid, “Because it’s funny every time, Kacchan.”

[dinthehottotty]

Cultural Differences - Part 1 - Din Djarin

Summary: Din proposes and you have no idea that you said yes. Not that you'd say no but you don't have the heart to tell him when you realize.

A/N: Before ya ask, yes, I do play assassin’s creed. I’m shamless, I don’t care.

Warnings: Fluff, maybe a sprinkling of angst, part two will have all the smut for @buttercup--bee​.

When you'd met Mando, you thought the same thing as everyone else from a glance. You believed him to be cold and dangerous. Very quickly did that entire idea go up in big, black smoke. It didn’t take long to watch this man ask for compliance rather than immediately demand it. He always did please and thank you’s when necessary and it was a surprise when that only got you hot and bothered.

Love was not on your radar when you joined his crew. Even now, months after you'd been working with him, you felt like you were pining for the man. That would imply that the awkward Mandalorian would ever foster the idea of a relationship with you. So instead you'd happily day dream your way through the days.

It was easy to do. There was no resentment at unspoken affection. You just loved both Mando and that little green bundle of wrinkles with everything in you. It always made you smile at how much he was an overprotective dad with his 50 year old baby. Even if he tried to deny that he was a dad now.

You found it too easy to tease him about it and your cute aggression reared it's ugly head. You were a person who's love language was physical touch. Constantly touching the bounty hunter surprised him in the beginning. But now it had no effect on him. You probably should have asked him more about Mandalorian culture because that would be your down fall with him.

It was a joke the first time you'd kissed his helmet. Planting a big, obnoxious kiss right on the top of his helmet when he was in the pilot seat and had maneuvered the razor crest out of quite the spot without killing you both. Now it was second nature to peck his helmet's cheek. A warm, friendly greeting when he'd returned from a hunt and when he departs for supplies. A quick smooch to his forehead and a pat to a pauldron as a thank you. Nudging his knee under the table at cantinas to tell him to calm down. A reassuring rub to his strong arms when Peli stresses him out too much. He even let you grasp his arm or thigh when you get excited about something. You were physically affectionate, you didn't think twice about gently bumping your forehead to his helmet when you were purposefully being annoying.

The last thing on your mind when doing this was actually whether or not Mando even thought much of it. He didn't tell you to stop, he never spoke about it, how were you to know.

One day, while Mando was on the floor trying to wear the kid out to go to sleep, you found teasing him all you could do. A light laugh bubbled up from you as his attempts failed repeatedly.

"Hand him over, Daddy." Squating down next to him. He turns his helmet towards you.

"I can handle it. Just go to bed," he orders, with no bark in his voice.

"Not a chance. Give 'im here." He heaves one of his heavy sighs before allowing you to scoop him up and into you. It was routine that you took the kid to bed most nights, Mando was okay with it, but he gives a frustrated sigh when the kid looks quickly like he's getting sleepy.

"Why is that so easy for you?"

"He's just used to me putting him to bed, Mando." You throw him a wink and bounce hip to hip as the kid jabbers sleepily.

There's a silence that feels a little heavy and the Mandalorian shuffles awkwardly. "I... I kind of wanted... nevermind," he cuts himself off, turning away.

That catches your attention very quickly. "No, no! Tell me, it's okay." Your hand darts out as he turns to leave and you catch his arm. He pauses even though he can easily push through it.

"I mean... you're like his mom. Kids like their mothers more. They sooth their children better and women are instinctivly better with kids." That startles you. Mando had never once referred to you as anymore than the kids nanny at any point. You weren't even originally hired to watch the kid.

You're cheeks flair up at that, burning uncomfortably and you feel... giddy perhaps? Did he think of you as a mom to his son? It catches you off guard.

"He definitely doesn't like me better," you reply softly and move closer. "I just put him to bed more often and it's close to bed time, that's all. Come here," you coax, your voice lowering to a warm tone. The bounty hunter twists reluctantly back towards you with slumped shoulders. The kid, who's half dozed in your arms, blinks up at him.

"He adores you, Mando, just take him."

"You don't have to-... its not a big deal."

"Take him," you insist. Finally he lifts the kid into his arms which makes the kid blink up with bigger eyes, a confused coo rising from him.

"Hes waking back up-"

"Shhh." You press forward, against Mando's arms as you run the pad of your thumb along the big ears. Softly you hum, no song in particular, and prompt the Mandalorian to sway with you both. It's a soft, intimate moment, that you never want to end.

It takes a few moments for the kid to settle back down and you hope it doesn't take to long but part of you longs for it not to end. The man-droid calling you his sons mother, or comparing you to one at the very least, is enough to fuel your longing for you employer with out a name for months.

At some point you glance up, expecting him to be watching his son. It paralyzes you when you find his visor trained on you. Gently you clear your throat, blush raising more on your cheeks.

"I didn't mean to overstep. I-"

Thunk.

The Mandalorian tilts his helmet forward and it knocks against your forehead suddenly. If you're honest, it actually hurts a bit with how hard he crashes his head into yours but suddenly the bunk feels so much smaller with him blocking the doorway. "You didn't." Is all he says, in his softest voice.

This was purposeful. He wanted to lean his head to yours. Not to be annoying. There was nothing practical about it, but he was doing it on purpose. Maybe he was feeling playful, you think. 

The both of you stay like that for a while, as you allow your eyes to close. It could have been seconds or hours but finally he shifts away to gently put the kid in his hammock.

"I have something for you." He admits.

"For me?" You repeat, a little dazed. He nods.

"You don't have to accept." You arch your eyebrow as you both exit the room and you watch him mosey over to his weapons vault. Your curious as you attempt to guess what it is mentally. You didn't need anything.

But then he drew out a bundle of fabric and brought it over with both hands. He doesn't say anything, instead he just holds the bundle. You pause, hesitantly taking it. It was heavy and solid with plenty of ridges. When you peel the fabric back, the beskar gleams and a surge of emotion rushes forward as you twist the gauntlet. As you look to the inside you see it, the hidden blade attached to the bottom, something you explained to him before.

A rite of passage from your assassin training on your home planet. Yours had long since broken and you couldn't wear it anymore and it had been two years. You’d only really brought it up to him once, cursing that you would of had the bounty he’d only had the chance to capture after he slipped from your grasp. Mando had given you a short, “I still got him,” and carried on until you were both in the safety of hyperspace. The bounty had been sealed away and you couldn’t even remember who it had been.

“Like a knife?” He prompts in a way that made you both confused and suspicious. 

“Knife? What knife?” you asked.

“You could have won the bounty if you had your blade?” he responded, he partially tipped your way. It was a bit odd of him to focus on that, a little out of character. You brushed it off, especially because he had previously explained that Mandalorians were religious about weapons. 

You hadn’t known much about them (really anything) before him. You just pegged him as having an unhealthy fixation about any type of new weapon.

“Oh, my hidden blade,” you hummed and leaned back, making a face. “It broke a while back. I was apart of an assassin’s group on my home world, they had a few initiation practices. The important one was when you get your hidden blade. It’s like a gauntlet without the hand and the blade sits on the inside of the wrist. When you flex your wrist, the blade extends. My safety broke on it, nearly lost my ring finger.” You’d wiggled your finger that had a deep scar on the inside of it. “Then the blade snapped clean in two and I haven’t found anyone to fix it. I have to go home, since the mechanisms are broken. There are so few of my people left, however, that I’ve just put it off.” Was your response. 

After that he’d never brought it up again. 

"Mando," your voice cracks as you glide your fingers across it. "Mando, it's beautiful." You slide it on. It's heavier than your used to, but it fits like a glove. A quick click and the blade shoots out with a flex of your wrist. "Thank you," you murmur before sinking the blade away and launching into a hug with him.

"Din." He says, making you peer up. "Din Djarin is my name." Your heart skips a beat against his chest. You gaze up at him for a moment, before smiling back down at it. You turn, switching the safety off, before twitching your wrist. The mechanism was backwards from what you were used to, but the shiny blade jutted out as fast as your original had. It’d take a while for you to adjust to the weight of it, but it’s like having a working prosthetic after missing a limb for years. 

“Din,” you test, “how did you get it to fit so well, my old one had straps I could adjust,” you ask. Drawing you eyes back up to the helmet, you let the big smile grow on your face. 

He clears his throat a bit and twists to look at the blade that slinked away almost soundlessly. “I... I would measure your wrist when I grabbed your arm. To move you or stop you while we were out.” You grin at him, switching the safety on so that you didn’t accidently stab him.

“I didn’t even notice!” You quickly, jerk forward and hug him. He squeezes you back eagerly but a thought occurs. “Wait,” you draw back to look at him. “This beskar, right?” 

“Yes.”

“I’m not Mandalorian, though. Won’t I get in trouble?”

“No, it’s given by a Mandalorian. There is no issue.” He promises and that’s the end of it because he thunks his helmet a little too hard against you again.

...

It goes on for months. Din suddenly being more physically affectionate with you. It makes you feel like you can have the softness that comes from a domestic relationship, the kind you never thought you could have. He called you something in Mando’a which seemed to change all the time. It was always at times you weren’t focused on what he was saying so you could never listen and try to look it up later. 

You had found a short list of terms people had translated from the lost and secretive language. Most were mean ones, and you’d only heard him use a couple of those, but never toward you... well... maybe one. But that’s not the point! You were so lost with him. 

It wasn’t until after nearly dying on Hoth, and then again on whatever water disaster of a planet this was. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And when Din dove in after those fisherman launched the kid in to be fed, you ripped those black market trades apart in sheer rage. Fortunately, or un fortunately, Mandalorians arrived and slaughtered more. You were happy to not have Din or the kid drown, but your want of revenge was exponential.

In short, it was a really rough week. One of the worst since the kid had arrived. He wouldn’t stop eating the frog lady’s kids that you were transporting. Not that your really surprised, but you were at the end of your rope.

Sitting in a warm little bar was nice. Between the kid warming himself in your arms and Din’s casual hand on your knee, you were simmering down. You were pressing yourself into din’s side, hoping to leach some of your warmth between his armor. He wasn’t even shivering anymore.

After quite the shock for the both of you when the other three took their helmets off, you had now been stunned into an exhausted mode. Anger had disappeared and replaced it’s self with the same distrust you felt radiating off Din. Shock seems to be the trend on this planet because one moment you’re ready to hear about the fall of Mandalore and the next Bo Katan is twisting to look directly at you. 

“I find it strange that you’re wearing beskar at a black market beskar port.” She throws at you. Everyone glances at your wrist. 

“It’s a gift.” Your rumbling response is the first words you’ve spoken to her from your sour mood. She lifts a condescending eyebrow at you. 

“From you I assume?” She asks Din. 

“Yes.” Is his response. 

“Why a gauntlet?” Bo Katan makes a face. A flick of the wrist and the blade makes and appearance. Eyes widen. “Ah. An engagement gift.” Your brain stuttered in your head. 

“How romantic,” her sidekick, Koska chirps. You were waiting for Din to deny it, all the while rushing through the encounter of when he gave it to you. Had Din proposed? Were you engaged to him this whole time? You weren’t even sure if he saw you in a romantic light, nevermind him actually wanting to marry you. 

“I’m surprised you accepted a proposal from a watcher. Can’t be easy to love someone if you can’t see their face.” Bo Katan remarks. Din’s head turns a little towards you, he’s trying to read you right now. He’s waiting for your response. Had he done this on purpose? He wouldn’t do it out of malace, that you’re certain on. You wouldn’t put it past him to go this long into a relationship and not talk about his feelings. 

“Hardly.” Koska smirks towards Bo Katan and you feel Din slowly let out a breath from beside you. You gently nudge his side. 

“But to never kiss, to never see his face, might be harder than you think.”

“She can see me once were married.” Those words shock you more than the actual announcement that you were engaged. It sealed it for you as well. This surprises those sitting across from you. The ring leader grins suddenly. 

“You really should communicate better with your partner. I don’t think she realized that you were even engaged to begin with.” Din swivels his head and you bite your lip as you’ve been caught red handed.

“You didn’t?” He asks, more of a demand. You wince.

“No, but even if I did know, I still would have accepted.” Din sighs, next to you, clearly frustrated. “In my defense, the only thing you asked me was, ‘Do you accept,’ which granted is a little cryptic, if I’m being honest.” Din takes a deep breath, shaking his head at you. 

“What normally takes place on your world? A gift, correct?”

“Yeah, a ring! Not a hidden blade, you dork. I will say, I prefer this, it’s much more practical.”

“You don’t know anything about Mandalorians, do you?” Bo Katan prompts.

You pass her a look. “I’d never even heard of a Mandalorian before I met him.” All three of them have amused reactions and Din just sinks more into your side. You drop your hand down to his knee. 

The conversation takes a new direction after that and your thankful to not have the attention on you anymore. 

It’s not until you have agreed to help the three of them that the both of you decide to take the oldest (and smallest) clan member to the frog lady’s house.

“If you don’t behave,” you murmur, bristling in the cold ocean breeze rolling through the streets, “I will allow the frog lady to eat you, okay?” you promise the kid. Din pulls you to a stop and the kid perks his tucked ears up, prepared for your betrothed to deny that promise.

“Were you pulling their leg in there? Did you really not know we were engaged?” 

“I mean, I suppose you were pretty forward with me, but I had no clue.”

“You think I was forward?” he demands. Uh oh. You were not expecting that response.

“What... what did I do that was forward?” You hear yourself ask when your not sure you want the answer. Din shakes his head at you. 

“The keldabe kisses?” 

“The what kisses? You mean me kissing your helmet?” 

“That too. Obviously, I’m not able to kiss you the way you’re used to. I won’t be able to until were married, so what Mandalorians do instead is the keldabe kiss.” His hands are placed on your shoulders to hold you in place and he leans down, thunking his helmet against your forehead. “This.” 

You’re eyes go wide as you think about the many times that you basically laid a big one on Din. “Did... did you consider us being in a... romantic relationship before you proposed?” 

“I believed we were, you didn’t?” What a question. Mortification filled you and you could feel your cheeks burning despite the brisk wind. “Do... do you love me?” Your chest aches deeply at the insecurity in Din’s voice. The sound that rumbles isn’t like his warm and gentle tone he usually has. It’s brittle and frail.

“Of course I do! I just... I thought we were just really close friends, that you didn’t see me in that way so I bottled it up and hid it away. I mean... I wanted to mean more to you, but I just... maker, I feel so stupid.” The kid coos with confusion in your arms as you pull away. “Din, I’m sorry.” 

“Do you want to marry me?” He asks so softly it’s almost taken by the wind. You find yourself immediately folding into his arms.

“Yes, Din, yes, I want to marry you. I love you.” You murmur the last part against his cape, feeling to shy to look at him when you say it. His rigid body soften around you and suddenly you’re clutched tightly to his chest. Tighter than he’s ever held you. Ironically, for the first time all day it feels like you can actually breathe. 

“Good... good.” He breathes near you. 

“Can we get out of the wind for a bit?” you prompt.

“Yes, let’s go.” Not how you were expecting your day to start... or end. But there are worse endings to bad days.

Tagging:

@lxdyred​, @boliv-jenta​, @amidjarin​, @buttercup--bee​

[moonandsunwoo]

permission to dance. e.s

# — pairing: eric sohn x reader

# — genre: fluff, IdolAU, established relationship

# — warnings: none, just clingy bf!eric

# — listen to: permission to dance by BTS

♡ requested by the sweet @mingiandbaconjam ! Thank you so much for you lovely lovely ask, I hope you like this! Have a nice day! ♡

🪴

When you entered the practice room, you felt like a wall hit you. A very comfy wall, dressed in baggy clothes and a quite nice smelling wall but a wall none the less.

“I missed you so much.” Eric, formerly known as that very wall, mumbled against the crock of you neck, giving you approximately two and a half seconds to catch your breath before pulling you even tighter.

“Hello to you to babe.” Your voice was swallowed up by his oversized shirt but Eric didn’t seem to mind. He just relaxed in your arms for a moment, dramatically sighing when you moved back a bit.

“Damn you act like we didn’t see each other for months.” You laughed, letting your hands drop from hugging his chest into his hands. Eric just shrugged, a tiny smirk tugging on his lips.

“I mean, that’s how it does feel sometimes. Most times, especially when I’m conscious.” He shot you a cheeky wink before you swatted his arm lightly, pulling him down momentarily to press your lips to his.

“Cheesy.”

Eric helped you put away your bag and dimmed the lighting a bit, nodding towards the lose AUX chord.

“Any specifics you wanna practice today?” he asked, pushing an abandoned water bottle to the side before grabbing two fresh ones from the minifridge. You shrugged, connecting your phone to the speakers.

“Nothing specific really…we don’t have a stage coming up or anything. And even if we had,” you gave him a small grin, “I wouldn’t be the one to spoil it.” Eric gripped his chest in mock pain, throwing you a pained glance.

“Not even to your boyfriend? The one providing you with free hugs and food?” you shook your head.

“Nope. And your heart is on the other side, you idiot.” he just waved it off, walking up on you before dramatically pulling you into his chest.

“My heart is right where you are.” Not even Eric himself could hold back his laughter when your eyes met through one of the large mirrors on the wall.

“Can you just not.” Was all you huffed trying to suppress your laughter, leaning back into his touch nonetheless.

“My heart is crying.” Eric countered theatrically, arms tightening around your waist, face once again resting against your neck.

“Better make it stop. Someone could slip on your tears and then what. Are you even insured?” he just giggled before spinning you around so you’d face him.

“Feisty.” You decided to retort with kiss, an answer Eric accepted without hesitating.

Warming up with Eric was as messy as expected and you weren’t sure if you were actually out of breath because of the muscle exercise or because of your laughter since Eric never failed to make an absolute fool out of himself. Besides not being able to keep his hands to himself for longer than five minutes and pecking your cheek about one million times in between.

The moment you probably absolutely lost it, was when Eric tried to show off the splits (and failed miserably) and when you teased him for it, decided to play “Penalty”, screaming along to the chorus. It resulted in you crawling into his lap, covering his face with small kisses to make the yelling stop. He accepted them with a small pout that disappeared fairly quick and let you take your phone out of his hands to find a next song to actually dance to.

He just wrapped his arms around your body and scooted back until his back hit the mirrors, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

“What you wanna have next?” you mumbled absentmindedly, scrolling through one of your shared playlists with him. There was a suspicious high amount of slower tunes and you knew for sure that Eric was responsible for all of them.

“You don’t really add upbeat songs, just spicy stuff.” You turned to him, eyebrows risen. “Alina Baraz, Show Me?” his grin turned almost unbearably smug. “Any ulterior motives, Sir?”

“Never baby. Why, you like the song? I should add more The Weeknd, you remind me.” you just hummed, scrolling past it quickly.

You probably spent the next ten minutes like that, you cuddled up in his arms, going back and forth between various songs and genres, when someone knocked at the door.

Eric immediately tensed up at the disturbance, still not used to the fact that the company had in fact approved of your relationship by now (if kept low-key. Which was probably why Eric kept making the biggest fuss over reunions even if you were apart for just a few hours.)

“Yeah?” You called out, drawing soothing circles over the back of his hand.

“It’s just me, Kev! Forgot my water bottle and I wanted to do a live before going to the dorms.” Kevin’s bright beanie came into frame first, before a mildly tired face followed.

“Sure, it’s over there. We’re just practicing some more.” Eric relaxed again, pressing a quick kiss against you neck.

“Yeah I see, you two are super busy practicing.” Kevin huffed, stalking towards the fitted kitchen in the corner of the practice room.

“We were just trying to find a good song to dance to.” Eric whined at the accusing tone of his older brother, pulling you closer against his chest.

“Sure.” Kevin grinned, grabbing the lonely bottle of water before making a bee line for the door.

“Don’t let me bother you two. Just don’t be nasty.” Eric let out an embarrassed yell before aiming with his shoe at the now laughing Kevin. The shoe hit the quickly closing door with a muffled thud, the sound of it falling to the ground drowned out by your laughter.

“So annoying…” Eric just mumbled, burying his face in your shoulder again.

You just grinned, scrolling aimlessly through your playlists.

“Let’s see…oh what do you think about that one…?” Eric lifted his face from his nuzzled position to peek over your shoulder.

“Permission to dance?” you nodded, finger hovering over the bright orange cover.

“Alright let’s go!” he exclaimed, slipping away and scrambling to get up to get his shoe.

A few ungraceful hops on one leg into your direction and some fumbling with his shoe he came to a halt right when the first chorus of the song sounded through the speakers.

“Permission to dance?” Eric asked with a small bow, a grin on his lips. You took his offered hand and let him pull you up on you feet.

“You don’t need permission to dance Eric. Especially not with me.”

also dedicated to all deobi who recognize the spicy songs Eric always plays during his lives, whilst acting like he's totally not doing it on purpose

⌕ m.list

© written by moonandsunwoo on tumblr. do not copy or re-upload.

[sunflowersseemhappy]

The Arcana | Little Romantic Gestures Headcannons

Asra

A lot of Asra’s little romantic gestures are aimed at getting you to smile, he spent so long watching you struggle after he brought you back that all he wants is to see you happy.

Ever since he started travelling Asra has always brought souvenirs from his trips. Things he thinks you’ll like. Although he knows you so well that what he brings you never fails to make you happy at how thoughtful he is. It’s only after the whole ‘saving the world thing’ that you realise this was a gesture of his affection for you all those years.

Tied in with bringing you souvenirs Asra loves to spoil you every once in a while with a outfit tailored to you. Clothes that make you look stunning in the most modest of ways, leading to everyone else complimenting you. Asra has a critical eye when it comes to fashion and making the love of his life look good.

His goofiest gesture is probably making heart shaped foods for you, this only began after his confession of love (before then he made little animals and flowers from the food he gave you). Its an intricate process, but Asra definitely has the patience.

Once every-so-often Asra will ask if you want to bathe together, there is generally no other reason than he wants to pamper you/feel you close to him. Asra will draw a bath and cradle you in the water, and you’ll both just talk and give each other soft kisses.

When the night is waning and the candles burn low Asra will ask to cuddle in close with yo u and puts his head against your chest listening to the beating of your heart. He doesn’t consider it his anymore, he gave it to you, therefore it is yours. But he hopes the connection between your hearts will always be this strong.

Julian

Julian can be a little distracted when if comes to romantic gestures, big ones get lost in his planning for them. The little romantic gestures Julian gives you have no plans, just him and his complete adoration for you.

It’s like clockwork. Julian is awake as soon as the sun rises and quickly brings you morning coffee/tea/or whatever you favourite morning wake up beverage is. It’s simple and maybe you do or don’t notice it, but it’s always fresh, like he knows exactly when you’ll wake up and makes it just before you do. If you manage to catch him after he leaves it on your bedside table you give him a good morning kiss (he deserves it).

If either of you are out and separated from each other for the day Julianhides lovely little notes in your pockets. Poems, quotes, even simple ‘I love you’’s. One is always there, you save each and every one in a box under your bed and look through them while he’s gone. You plan to one day stuff them all in his coat as both a prank and a grand romantic gesture. He has the same idea, so right now it’s a waiting game to see who gets to it first.

He doesn’t necessarily do it on purpose or even in your presence, but Julian absentmindedly sketches little portraits of you in the margins of his books/scrolls/whatever paper is on hand. He’s committed you to memory and when he realises Julian gets flustered, is it weird that he just does that? After you discover a whole sketchbook of you, you pretend not to know even though you secretly love it. He can show you when he’s ready.

If he’s drunk or sober Julian will shamelessly flirt with you when he knows you need some love. He loves it when you do so back. Most of it is PG, but if you want him to Julian will most certainly compliment you on your finest assets *wink, wink*.  

Anywhere and anytime Julian will just stop, look into your eyes, smile and honestly tell you how much he loves you. It’s probably the most beautiful gesture of love you can think of, its just that pure. 

 Nadia

The moments spent with Nadia would usually be considered mundane to most, but that’s what makes them so pleasant. As a countess and former princess, Nadia doesn’t usually get to enjoy ‘normal’ so the moments spent with you are the best sense of normality that she can get.

Nadia is such a busy bee that by the time you wake up she’s off doing her morning duties, so she (like Julian) leaves you little love notes, usually accompanied by breakfast. The notes are always written in her hand, on scented paper and laid with a beautiful flower. On more than a few occasions her notes have made up mini scavenger hunts, just to keep you on your feet and lead you to where she is in the castle at a later time.

If she can avoid morning duties Nadia will spend time helping you with hair and makeup, she likes making you feel beautiful/handsome/gorgeous and just looking at your face brings a smile to her lips. Her skills always seem to make you look better and you wonder how she’s so good at it.

As anyone would Nadia finds your magical abilities fascinating and loves to watch you work on spells and the like, she also asks about things genuinely interested in what you are doing and how you do it. She thinks possessing such a skill as magic is like an extension of you yourself and she loves all of you (therefore she loves your magic). Given the chance Nadia could watch you work all day, alas palace duties call but she always asks you later in the day how that spell you had been working on went. 

Nadia is forever inviting you on long walks through the palace grounds at the end of her day. There’s nothing more relaxing than walking though the palace grounds and just talking about each other’s days. She’ll always let you talk about your day first, no matter how dull it may have been. She likes to find things out, figure out ways to entertain you while she is busy and plan out activities the two of you can try out together. She also just really likes listening to you, she’s had people talking AT her all day. It’s a nice change of pace to actually have a person to talk to about everything.

Tied in with doing your hair Nadia can’t help but play with your hair,she only usually does it in the privacy of your room but when she does you’re on cloud nine. Something about her hands trailing though your hair is so soothing that it sends you to sleep, which isn’t a problem in itself. The problem is; you fall asleep on her, and Nadia hates waking you up. So she just lies there and accepts her fate with a smile. 

 Muriel

Muriel doesn’t necessarily realise he’s making his little romantic gestures, to him they just feel like a normal part of his day but he’s glad to do them. They make him feel close to you and make him more comfortable with being in a relationship.

Muriel can cook, but he’s spent so long making meals that just state his hunger he forgot food could taste good. Since living with you and learning about you Muriel has discovered he quite likes making your favourite meals, not only because they are tasty but it’s nice seeing the smile on your face when you realise he made the meal just for you. Also you seem to like his way of making your favourites rather than your own.

It’s normal for Muriel to do his own chores around and out of the hut, and although you usually tell him to leave your own messes for you to clean up later Muriel can’t help but get itchy fingers. Doing your chores for you, he thinks he might as well, what’s more he wants to. You’re so busy running the shop, buying nice things for him and just making his life brighter, its only fair to lighten the load.

Even Muriel knows people like flowers, and what’s more you give flowers to the people you love. So Muriel finds flowers everyday and gives them to you, it might just be a single rose or a bundle of forget-me-nott’s but each flower he picks out is carefully chosen and perfect. It took him some time but Muriel soon figured out the perfect combinations of flowers to give to you, sometimes they say things better than he can.

Being the big shy boi he is Muriel remains pretty quiet when the two of you are out and about among other people. Even among your friends he can get pretty uncomfortable when trying to love and dote on you, therefore it’s not uncommon for Muriel to pull you aside to compliment you. It’s easier getting words out when it’s just the two of you and he wants you to know that he does notice things. Like how shiny your hair looks and how well your clothes suit you, it’s not just physical things either. He might mention how kind you are after helping a lost child find their parents or that he just really likes being with you. 

Once he’s gotten used to them being enveloped in a Muriel hug is probably always a great feeling.You don’t actually notice at first but he holds you in that embrace for a little longer than a normal hug (especially when you’re leaving to go on an errand, etc...), when your arms loosen his own take a little longer to do so. He gives you a gentle squeeze and sighs in his head, he wants to hold you longer. Forever, maybe. He’s too afraid to ask though, but when you finally do notice his hesitance and think back on all the times he was the last to let go, it clicks. You can be late opening the shop, as long as Muriel knows that you love him as much as he does you. You both hug each other a little longer. 

 Portia

Portia romantic gestures almost make it seem as if you are married already, her little gestures are comforting and you’re always aware she does them because she always states; ‘I’m doing this because I love you!’ She needs to make sure you know because she loves love, and loves you.

A good meal never goes amiss when it’s with Portia, you know how a lot of people leave the best thing on their plate till last? That’s what Portia does. However she always offers the last bite of her food to you, even if you’re eating the same meal. If you’re in the same room, eating at the same time Portia will lift her fork to your mouth and offer it to you. It’s usually quite funny because she kids around, making silly noises as she puts in your mouth or teasing you by holding it just out of reach.She’s a good cook, Portia’s peach cakes are to die for. 

She’s aware of how much you like her cooking, so when you’re off to work in the shop for the day she will pack you a hearty lunch and send you on your way with a kiss on the cheek. She want’s to make sure you have a balanced meal ready for you when you need it, it helps that she makes it because it’s irresistible! The first time you made a packed lunch for her (because damn this girl works hard, and how does she make the time?) she burst out crying saying how happy she was that you loved her enough to make her lunch. You figured out that that was one of Portia’s romantic gestures that day, now you make packed lunches together. 

Days off with Portia are full of sunshine and relaxation, most of which is spent in her veracious garden tending to the plants and chatting away about your week so far. It’s a peaceful pastime, when the sun is highest in the sky and it becomes too hot to work you and Portia take up residence beneath the maple tree she has growing on the fringes of the garden. There the two of you lay back and feed each other berries/fruit/veg from garden, there’s always something ripe and fresh that tastes like sunshine and rain. It’s got to the point where it’s become a part of your day, where Portia and you just flirt and kiss and enjoy the mundane parts of your lives. It’s her favourite thing to do.

She wouldn’t be Julian’s sister if Portia wasn’t a shameless flirt, she’ll do it anytime, anywhere and in front of anyone. She gets a certain kick out of seeing your cheeks redden, but she’s careful to keep it at a comfortable level for the situation. You wouldn’t think a simple ‘I love you’ could sound so... flirtatious but Portia may just be better at this than her brother.

Even Portia doesn’t realise she’s rubbing your back for no reason until she’s actually doing it. It’s not always a situational thing, but it often happens when your uncomfortable/scared, or when you’re relaxing. It makes the both of you feel better, you’re both together standing by each others side and figuring things out together. She’s glad the two of you can be there together, but she’s still not sure why she does it. After mentioning it to Julian, he says something about how their mother used to do it to the two of them when they were upset. Their mother had always whispered ‘I love you’ as she did so, Portia figured out it was her subconscious way of saying ‘I love you’. It was a strange time when you did it back, because for a moment she felt like she had her mother back. For a moment you made her feel complete. 

Lucio

Lucio’s extravagant, and so are his ‘little’ romantic gestures (it scares you to think what his big romantic gestures must look like). But whatever he does it’s with good intentions that become skewered when he goes over the top. You’re his king/queen, he intends to treat you as such.

One day Lucio, left alone as you tend the shop, thinks back to your conversation about favourite meals. He remembers you saying about a dish you loved but could never find a certain ingredient, so a scheme forms in the back of his mind. How better to express his love for his dearest by making their favourite meal. He debates getting the servants to make it, but... When you come back Lucio is nowhere to be found, you search everywhere and almost pass by the kitchens. There are audible crashes and some swearing, when you step in you find Lucio covered in flour. He’s very embarrassed, but explains that he found the ingredients and wanted to make it himself. He got confused and ended up making a mess instead, you can’t laugh because it’s almost too sweet that he tried. The next day you spend together is teaching Lucio to cook the dish and enjoying the fruits of your labour.

Lucio just so happens to like your face a lot, so he brings in an artist and commissions a portrait of you you. Only problem is he want’s it to be a surprise, but the artist can only paint what he can see and you’re not there. The end result is a culmination of his terribly drawn doodles and the vague descriptions he gave the artist. You’re horrified when you find it in your room. Lucio instantly throws it out and begs you to pose for the artist this time, he just wanted a really nice portrait of you so that even when you’re gone he can see your beautiful face. You insist that he poses with you and you get a much better portrait of you and Lucio.

You often humour Lucio while listening to his stories time and again, and he’s kind of aware that he’s probably told you a story before. He does about 90% of the talking in this relationship, but when you tell him stories he hangs on every word. While you let him ramble non-stop Lucio is always politely asking you to elaborate on things because he wants to hear more! No matter what Lucio has never once told you that he’s 'heard that story before'.He’d be fine with you saying it to him, but he could never do so to you. All he wants is to hang on your every word and see your face shift into different expressions, happiness, sadness, excitement and disgust. He wants to see it all because knowing every part of you as a person makes him happy and love you all the more.

Lucio believes the most romantic thing ever is people dancing together (at a point he thought it was fighting together, but the two are close enough), the way he saw people at his masquerades dance together made him long for the perfect partner. Although Nadia was always a good dancer it never felt natural with her, when you came along he found his true partner. There have since been many times where he has led you into and impromptu slow dance. No matter when, where or who is present, its like a natural part of your lives, Lucio loves it. Twirling and dipping you and making you feel like the centre of the solar system, because to him he is just a planet and you are his radiant sun.

I had a lot of fun writing this, but what I really want is you lovely people to send in requests to my ask box! Don’t be shy, I accept any type of request (fluff, angst, smut, etc...) for any of the main six. Anonymous is on, but if you’d like to request with your handle that would be great!

Lots of love! XOXO 

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

to see the sun again i’d give anything

A/N: if you couldn’t already tell, the dream smp has definitely taken over my thoughts lately. also hello and welcome to my "c!philza needs to process losing his son and his wings in the span of ten minutes instead of deflecting with laughter and destruction" agenda. title is from Bird With A Broken Wing by Owl City! enjoy!

Warnings: past character death, trauma, past injury, emotional repression, flashbacks, crying, minor violence, emotional hurt/comfort, teasing/banter, hugs

Summary: Phil tries to get some work done around Techno's house. The only problem with that is that his mind ends up wandering into darker thoughts than he'd like, leaving Phil to shatter. But luckily, someone is there to pick up the pieces.

-

Beware the Angel of Death, who cackles while cities burn. That was what they said about him, that was what everyone expected of him. That or they expected wisdom and fatherly care from the man whose wings died with his son. But the truth was that the great Philza Minecraft was neither of those things. Well… to be fair, the moniker “Angel of Death” was well deserved, the rubble of L’Manburg made that fact absolutely certain. But Phil didn’t want that to be who he was. He wanted to be safe and at home with no war or fighting, preening his wings while Wilbur’s music drifted through the house- but he had ruined all of that on his own, hadn’t he?

Phil squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. He was in the middle of checking over the bee farm, why were all of these thoughts hitting him now? Maybe it was because the yellow of the bees made him think of Wilbur’s sweater, their buzzing resonating at a frequency similar to the sizzling of TNT-

Okay. Maybe Phil should leave the bee farm for later. There were other things he could do… like gathering supplies for the Syndicate! Yes, that would be good, having something monotonous to work on always helped. With that plan in mind, Phil spun on his heel to head to Techno’s house to check and see what they needed- and smacked right into Ranboo. The two stumbled away from each other, Phil ending up falling onto his back- and therefore onto his permanently damaged wings. Phil hissed in pain as the fragile, half-there feathers made crushing contact with the snow and cold ground beneath it, and Ranboo’s expression twisted in a mix of guilt and sympathy.

“I’m sorry! I thought you knew I was there,” Ranboo said, holding out his hand to help Phil up. He took the offered hand and shook the snow from his wings once he stood up.

“It’s alright mate, I was just… lost in thought, I guess,” Phil said, trying for his usual smile. Ranboo didn’t seem to buy it, if the worried frown was anything to go by, but he didn’t directly comment on it.

“Oh. Okay! How’s the uh, bee farm?” he asked, clearly trying to keep things casual, which Phil was grateful for (even if it was painfully awkward).

“Giving me difficulty, I keep getting… frustrated. Think I’m gonna deal with it later,” Phil replied with a shrug.

“I can do it!” Ranboo blurted. Phil startled a bit at the outburst from the usually mellow teen, blinking in surprise.

“I, uh- thanks mate, but…”

“Really, I can do it! You showed me how to take care of them once, and I put down what you said to do in my memory book! I can handle it, promise,” he said, pulling out his memory book and flipping through the pages. Phil smiled, a true smile this time, at Ranboo’s eagerness to help.

“I- thank you. You let me know the minute you need help though, okay?” Phil insisted, tone leaving no room for argument. So of course, Ranboo argued against it.

“I think I can handle taking care of some bees, Phil,” he scoffed with a grin. For a split second, the snarky reply felt so reminiscent of Wilbur. If things had been different, would Wilbur be there with them? Phil could practically see the alternate reality play out in front of him- Wilbur helping out with the farms, getting into snowball fights with Ranboo and then egging on Techno and Phil to join them, or sitting on the porch and strumming his guitar and humming half-worked out melodies. A bittersweet smile came to Phil’s face, and he blinked away the sudden mistiness in his eyes.

“If you say so, mate,” he said softly, then walked away from the bee farm and to Techno’s house.

Once up the stairs and safely inside, Phil let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His wings sagged, their damaged tips lightly brushing against the floor. Saving face in front of Ranboo… that took more energy than he had thought. That combined with how much he had seemed like Wilbur for a moment… well, Phil wasn’t exactly in the mood for gathering supplies anymore. But he didn’t want to be idle either. Being idle meant being alone with your thoughts, and Phil’s thoughts often weren’t that kind to him. They’d be filled with accusations of him being a terrible father for killing his son, for letting Wilbur twist and become such a darker version of the bright young musician Phil once knew, for destroying the thing his son had built to rid himself of the memories of Wilbur’s screams begging Phil to kill him-

Before he realized it, Phil crumpled to the ground, knocking something over as he went, hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his sobs. What on earth was he doing? He had to get up. He had to stop crying. Wilbur, his wings, and L’Manburg- those tragedies were in the past. He should be over it now. Right?

Phil’s feeble reassurances to himself did nothing, as he remained on the floor with his wings shielding him like a fragile cocoon and shoulders shaking with sobs he was stubbornly trying to hold back. He was so lost in his sorrow and denial that he hadn’t realized that someone heard something crash in the house, and now had come inside to investigate. They tried to get his attention, but upon garnering no response, they put a gentle hand on Phil’s back, right between his wings.

The touch, no matter how gentle or well-meaning, caused something inside Phil to snap. Some strange, almost primal instinct took over and replaced the mournful sorrow. No one touched him anywhere near his wings and lived. He shot up from his curled up position on the floor, drawing his sword in the same motion and lunged at the person behind him. He tackled them to the ground, sword edge at their throat- and froze. Because he saw eyes wide with fear and shock, and for a moment all he could see was Wilbur. Then he blinked, and registered the heterochromic red and green eyes of the person he just attacked- Ranboo. He broke eye contact and scrambled away from Ranboo like he had been burned, tossing his sword aside and hardly registering the clatter it made over the thundering of his heart.

“Ranboo, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, you clearly didn’t realize I was there or who I even was, it’s not your fault and I’m not hurt anyway,” Ranboo said, voice low and soothing as he shifted into more of a sitting position on the ground, not standing up quite yet. Phil felt way out of his depth. Not only had he been caught crying by a teenager, but his immediate reaction to said teenager trying to comfort him was to kill him. Some father figure he was.

“I-I-”

“You don’t have to talk about what’s bothering you if you don’t want to, but… something tells me that this is something you’ve been keeping to yourself for a while. And trust me, I know that bottling things up is never good. So when you’re ready to talk about it… I’m here,” Ranboo said softly. Phil let out a sigh.

“Ranboo, you’re just a kid. I can’t be putting all my problems onto you,” Phil said, his voice a hollow echo of the cheerful kindness it usually held. A mildly irritated expression crossed Ranboo’s face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, this server is full of kids and people who are basically kids to you anyhow. So who exactly else would you be able to talk to about this?” he said, a bit more blunt than he probably meant to, but beating around the bush certainly wouldn’t help things either.

“I don’t need to talk to anyone about anything,” Phil huffed, sounding a bit like a stubborn child.

“Uh huh. Says the guy who made a loud crash when having a mental breakdown, and then startled so bad that he instinctively attacked someone. You’re right! You don’t need to talk to anyone about this at all,” Ranboo said flatly. Phil winced, and let out another sigh.

“I… you’re right. I shouldn’t be keeping this all bottled up. It’s just that everyone here is so young and already has had so much struggle and heartbreak. I couldn’t bear to add to that,” Phil said softly.

“Misery loves company,” Ranboo pointed out with a smile. Phil couldn’t help but smile back.

“I suppose so,” he said. Ranboo’s smile grew wider, and he stood up, then offered a hand to Phil to help him up (again).

“I’m capable of standing up on my own, y’know,” Phil chuckled, but took the offered hand anyway.

“And yet I’ve found you on the ground twice today, old man,” Ranboo teased. A surprised laugh burst from Phil’s lips.

“Oh you little shit, I thought you were trying to comfort me,” he said, still laughing.

“Okay hold on, first: there is nothing ‘little’ about me, I’m a lot taller than you. Second: I got you to laugh, didn’t I? Seems like the comfort is working pretty well,” Ranboo said, sounding unreasonably smug. And yet again, Ranboo reminded him of Wilbur. It was strange- upon first meeting the half enderman, Phil saw so many similarities to Technoblade in him. But now, the more he got to know him, the more he noticed a remarkable similarity to Wilbur as well.

“Maybe so,” Phil sighed. Ranboo squinted at him suspiciously, and Phil kept his eyes trained on the floor.

“You keep getting that wistful tone in your voice and a faraway look in your eyes. Do you… wanna talk about that?” Ranboo asked, fidgeting with his sleeves and looking otherwise unsure of what to do with his hands. A smile tinged with bittersweet memories came to Phil’s face.

“I suppose I should. Let’s sit down by the fire, this isn’t a conversation I want to have standing or feeling cold,” Phil said, taking a seat in front of the fireplace with Ranboo quickly following his lead. One of Techno’s dogs, who somehow had stayed snoozing by the fireplace throughout Phil’s mental breakdown, instantly perked up and trotted over to sit in Phil’s lap.

“Dogs are good for comfort too,” Ranboo pointed out. Phil agreed with a chuckle, gently running a hand through the dog’s fur. After a deep breath to calm himself, Phil delved into the story of his son, his wings, and L’Manburg. Ranboo listened with a patient and understanding expression, reaching out every once and a while to put a comforting hand on Phil’s arm whenever his voice wavered.

“And that’s it, I guess. I’ve tried to put my focus into working on farms here or gathering supplies to keep my mind off of it… but as you can tell, that hasn’t entirely worked,” Phil said after he finished his story. Ranboo was quiet for a few moments, taking in what Phil had said.

“In theory, I guess trying to distract yourself isn’t the worst idea, but… you haven’t really given yourself time to… process anything, have you?” Ranboo finally asked. Phil laughed bitterly.

“Unless you count what happened earlier? Not really,” Phil replied, keeping his eyes on the dog dozing in his lap.

“Phil,” Ranboo said reproachfully.

“Oh, because you’re the champion of processing emotions?” Phil shot back. Ranboo winced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Phil immediately felt guilty.

“To be honest, I don’t really remember many things to process them anyway,” he said, voice low. Phil sighed, and reached out to put a hand on Ranboo’s arm, much like Ranboo had done for him earlier.

“It’s alright mate, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You were just… entirely correct, and I didn’t want to admit it,” Phil said with a soft, apologetic smile.

“Hey, if I were in your shoes, I probably would have lashed out too,” Ranboo said, smiling back and affectionately nudging Phil’s shoulder with his own. Once again, Phil was reminded of Wilbur. He had always been so dependent on touch- things like shoulder bumps, hair ruffles, playful punches on the arm, hugs- and it seemed Ranboo was the same way, albeit a bit shyer about it. Phil must have had that “faraway look” as Ranboo put it, as the half-enderman was regarding him with a puzzled expression.

“There’s… probably something else I should explain to you. But I don’t want it to affect who you are as a person, and I don’t want you to think that anything you do makes me feel… bad,” Phil explained, internally wincing at the way his words came out. “Uh… okay? Gonna admit, you’re scaring me a bit there,” Ranboo said with a nervous laugh, looking a bit startled. Phil took a deep breath, then reached out to take Ranboo’s hand and squeeze it comfortingly.

“When I first met you, you reminded me so much of Technoblade. A little standoffish, skeptical of everything and everyone, and a bit stubborn. But the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more you make me think of Wilbur. You have this snark to you like Will, but at the same time you have the capacity for cheerful optimism like he did. Sometimes your mannerisms even remind you of him! So that’s why I get a little… wistful, every now and then,” Phil explained. Ranboo’s expression brightened at the comparison to Techno, but the Wilbur comparison clearly threw him off a bit.

“So… I remind you of the power-hungry revolutionary leader who is now a bizarrely cheerful ghost?” Ranboo asked, head cocked to the side in confusion. Ranboo’s puzzlement startled a laugh out of Phil, and he shook his head fondly.

“I forgot that you never knew the real Wilbur- I don’t know if anyone in this server ever really knew the real Wilbur. Maybe some of the original people of L’Manburg did, but creating that nation… it corrupted him. He was so far from the person I raised… I should have gotten here sooner. Maybe things would be different now,” Phil said, voice soft and tinged with regret.

“Well… I think you did the best you could, considering what you had to deal with when you arrived. And if what you say is true, about no one really knowing the true Wilbur… I don’t know if coming sooner would have helped anything. But I guess none of that really matters, all we can do now is focus on our present actions,” Ranboo replied, sounding much older than he actually was.

“Pretty wise words for someone your age,” Phil said, unable to keep the impressed tone from his voice. Ranboo’s eyes widened, and an awed smile came to his face.

“Huh… yeah, I guess so. And for what it’s worth- I think Wilbur sounds like he was a pretty neat guy. I would’ve liked to know him, the real him,” Ranboo said, squeezing Phil’s hand before letting go of it again.

“I think you two would have gotten along well,” Phil said, finding himself a bit misty-eyed. He wiped at his eyes quickly before any tears could fall, and Ranboo frowned sympathetically. He scooted closer to Phil, then slowly and cautiously leaned his head on Phil’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around him in a half hug. Phil initially stiffened at the contact, but quickly melted into the touch, his arm going around Ranboo’s shoulder while his fragile wing gently covered the hybrid like a cocoon.

The two of them stayed by the fire like that for a while, leaning against each other with Techno’s dog in Phil’s lap. Neither one said a word- not that they really needed to. It felt so nice to be the one being comforted for once, to not be looked to for answers, or to be looked upon with fear. Sure, he was the Angel of Death, the great Philza Minecraft, and a fatherly figure that those could rely on for guidance- but for once, it was nice to just be Phil.

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Three

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it's all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared. for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au, angst, fluff, slice of life etc word count :: 2.5k → click here for the next part !

The wind beats down on the bustling market and the scarf tied to your head which masks just how messy your hair is today flies away, neither you or Sasha realise as the street is scattered with stalls which bloom like flowers peeping out of rocky cement and the babbles of the citizens of the Asmye District are all you can hear. The Sun has begun to set ever so slightly, and the night is a convincing ruse to avoid anyone from noticing who exactly you are. Nobility such as yourself venturing down here is looked down upon.

Twisting and turning through the streets you both do your best to locate a specific man, balding and in his late thirties you have some unfinished business with him.

After a solid thirty minutes your goal is met in the form of his book store. Rubbing your eyes in disbelief you and Sasha sigh with relief and clap eachother's hands in triumph.

Now to get that refund.

Researching magic is a new past time of yours and you find it to be intriguing but you've been scammed into paying for a few useless storybooks. You admit it's your fault for hurriedly purchasing "A boy and his broom" and "The tales of seven witches" without checking the contents inside but you thought you could trust the review the owner gave you. The way he smiled reminded you of Mother and that was more than enough for you to make an immediate purchase.

"Four silver coins." You try to be assertive and when that doesn't work you bite your lip, thinking deeply before alternating to your puppy dog eyes.

The merchant looks away, a faint blush is spotted, swiftly you take it as your opportunity and plead "Please. Please. Please." Looking up at him through your lashes you rub your hands together expectantly. Eventually, he yields and hands over what he owes you begrudgingly.

"Sashaaa. I got the money." You joyfully exclaim. She looks a little disappointed that you've been begging for money but she's promised to not tell the Duke about what you do down here.

You're actually gathering emergency funds if you need to run away which is why any money being wasted is a big deal to you even if it's just four coins. Sasha doesn't know of the magic or the reason why you're collecting money and you want to keep it that way.

"Mmhm Next stop is the Emerald Silk merchants I'd like to invest in some of the silk and reserve it."

Sasha gives you another weird look. You know it's because the Duke owns the Emerald merchants and you may run the risk of being recognised, it would be far easier for you to simply ask Levi for the rolls of silk but you never know if he'll revert to his past self. The last thing you want is for him to behead you as soon as he returns purely because you've leeched off of him.

"Sometimes I find it hard to believe you're Duke Ackerman's wife and do not find the urge to spend money in the way you should." Sasha confesses.

As you both walk you respond "Well, what way should I be spending money?" you inquire.

"As if you've got a never ending supply. You're a duchess." She whisper shouts at you.

Patting at your head you feel around for your scarf and realise it's been blown away by the wind.

"Ah. Your scarf oh no." Sasha frantically looks around panicked and you wonder who on Earth she had to have been serving before you for her to be so on edge by this minor occurrence. It's a scarf, nothing of much value or importance to you.

"It's alright I never liked it. I'd much rather let my hair flow free." Releasing your hair from the cramped confines of the ponytail it's in you skip ahead of her letting your hair fall naturally.

"M-My lady PLEASE. You can't walk around with your hair out like that."

"No one will know who I am so long as you don't call me Duchess." you call over your shoulder.

Little do you know a certain someone already has your scarf in their hands eyeing you from the distance.

It takes a while for you and Sasha to navigate through the crowded streets but you end up finding your way and requesting to reserve the twenty two rolls of silk.

On your way out you eye the sign and wonder why you find the name Emerald to be so endearing. You wonder if he chose the name himself, you assume he did because he had consulted you on other variations too. Pearl, Diamond, Amber, but Emerald sounds sincere and sweet.

Your attention being placed so intently on the sign leads you into the hard body of a stallion. Thankfully, the horse is docile and doesn't mind.

"Miss with the pretty hair!"

The height difference means you have to shield your eyes with the palm of your hand as you look upwards towards the mystery man. A shining face is what you are met with and a cheeky grin is plastered across it. Choppy chestnut locks frames his face, he shines brighter than anyone you've met - Apart from Levi of course. No one outshines him in your books.

Is he a noble? You look to his stallion then to his high end, sophisticated garments. He must be.

Your scarf is in between his fingers and he dangles it in front of you.

"Is this yours my lady?"

"Oh, why it is thank you." he gently places it into you hands and you take a look at Sasha. You don't really feel like being found out by a noble today. The Duke's reputation would be in tatters if others of nobility were to catch you mingling with "common folk", that term makes your face twist. You despise it.

Nonetheless, It would be miserable if they saw you arguing passionately for your rightful refund of four silver coins when you resided within the walls of the Ackerman estate, you're sure four silver coins is petty change to Levi. It would be even worse if they eyed what exactly you were refunding.

Sasha senses your nerves and chimes in just in time. "Well, we must get going good Sir. We're running late for an event until next time!"

Taking your hand she leads you towards your carriage and you wave at the young man. With the same bright smile he waves back and calls out "Until next time ladies!" he seems menacing but in the manner of a mischievous younger sibling.

Once you and Sasha have escaped and are in the enclosed space of your carriage do you ask her questions.

"That man, Who was that?" you question.

Hushed Sasha whispers "I heard he's called the crazy bee." You chuckle at that witty nickname, his honey like expressions were sweet it did add up. "There's rumours he sticks it into anyone." Oh. My Lord. Your mouth gapes open. That nickname, it makes a whole lot more sense now given this perspective.

"Viscount Kirstein, A womaniser who's recently returned from studying abroad not too long ago. Best to stay away from him."

Makes sense, you have no recollection of who he is the only conclusion you can draw is that he has to be from abroad.

Your legs kiss your chest as you sit in the carriage curled up. From that point on the rest of the trip back is quiet as Sasha has unknowingly nodded off to sleep and you want her to rest. It irks you how the other staff members push her around despite her position as Head maid. The least you can do for your friend is let her sleep.

Smiling at her you cover her with your shawl and sit down content with how you've left her. You too are about to drift off to sleep.

That is until you see the Duke outside. You didn't tell him you were going to the market and he won't stop inquiring until you or Sasha let him know what's going on.

Quickly ducking out of view it's too late and your sudden movement has woken Sasha up too. Levi's seen you through the corner of his eyes for sure. Damn him and his senses. He hates back handed tricks and if you encounter his real personality you'll be in trouble.

He just had to decide to come out on tour today of all days??

The carriage halts to a stop and Sasha exits making sure the door is closed, you hear her giving one of the Duke's knights a lukewarm excuse as to why she's out supposedly alone in a noble's carriage. Guilt fills you, she's always covering on your behalf.

"You there, stop." The Duke's icy voice enters the scene, seconds of silence pass, you're holding your breathe. It feels like the first time he came hunting for you.

Out of nowhere he flings the carriage door open.

Oh no, there's too many people outside. You can't be seen on the floor of a carriage with your hair out like this. No Duchess can be caught dead this way.

Without a seconds thought you yank him inside shielding yourself from the view of any outsiders, the door echoes closed.

There's an exchange of heavy breathing and just as you're about to look up at him with a brazen smile you realise he's drawn his sword out on you at a furious speed, it's dangerously close to the nape of your neck. His body is tensed up and so is yours. Huh. This feels...different.

"I thought I was being attacked by a mutt." he spits out, his brows are furrowed, the veins in his neck throb, stance wide, his teeth are bared. A mutt? This feels hostile, lips pressed together in a fine line your heart stops beating for a second.

"My Lord...?" you meekly call out to him.

Then out of nowhere he seemingly snaps out of it.

"I'm sorry." He releases you from the compromising position "I didn't even notice it was you my love. Are you hurt by an chance?" He's back to his usual self and is panicking checking every part of you, ensuring he hasn't left a scratch.

Hugging you warmly his embrace soothes you automatically and you feel the relief course through your system, of course he's on guard he's the Duke and he's out on tour after all.

"I'm fine." You quickly explain your reasoning for hiding and he nods "So, could you give a random excuse to the knights? I just didn't wish to lose my dignity so soon. You know the Duchess on the floor of her carriage with her hair like this." You laugh airily pointing at the birds nest on your head.

"You look beautiful either way. But I'll do as you please." And he leaves after gently pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Later that night you're getting ready for a good nights rest. The Duke has yet to return, he's always caught up in his duties and noble activities, You wish he'd take the time to relax. Hard work and dedication to his people is an ethic of his he'll never give up on.

He always gives you the option to excuse yourself from partaking in noble activities. The only real reason as to why you don't ever venture outside with him and are yet to make a public appearance together is fear. Fear that he'll wake up one day and throw you away.

You want to make it easy for him if he ever decides to do that. He won't have to erase your existence if you don't make yourself known.

Tossing and turning you shiver, something feels off. You've been feeling that way since he drew his sword against you earlier today. The way he looked at you, it's reminiscent of the first time you looked into those feline eyes. Once bright and full of life they had become charcoal and devoid of any distinct emotion, the duality between his two forms makes your breath falter.

Being reminded that the Levi you know and love isn't real only gets harder as time passes. It's all overthinking and being pointlessly anxious but it still gnaws at your mind at least once a day. He is all you have and he is all you will have until he too turns on you. Just like everyone else.

Suddenly, the acidity of the situation settles into every part of your being, you can't have anything can you? All the love you've ever received is short term - only available for intermittent periods of time.

You feel bitter tears pricks at the edges of your eyes. You want to control yourself, act with jurisdiction over your body, so you do. No tears are shed.

Later that night you awake. Rubbing at your eyes you stir in bed, and eventually one of your splayed arms feels Levi's solid form next to you. Half awake you shift to put an arm over his chest, drawing him in closer he squirms at your touch. That's when you feel a harsh iron grip on your wrist, it's bruising.

That alone is enough for you to become undone from your drowsy state. Opening your eyes you're met with an expansion of cold emptiness.

"Lev...? Whatever is the matter?" Innocent gaze staring at your husband you act oblivious purposefully. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you find that shocking. You're surprised that it hasn't failed yet. Hope is the only instrument fueling it.

Silence.

Levi is no longer present, in his absence you are face to face with a rock hard glare, the fire in his eyes is also felt by you. The man who almost murdered you in cold blood months prior shows no signs of changing his previous choice, this whole situation is damp. If this were a movie this would be your last scene.

His fury is wordless but it vibrates and makes its presence known. There's a vortex of resentment brewing inside of his chest.

Everything is a blur, breaking down you hear nothing from Levi. You don't feel his warm palms at your cheeks, or his thumb swiping your tears away, this isn't one of your nightmares.

He's disgusted even touching the surface of your skin, it scalds him having to touch someone as morally impure as yourself. Releasing the hold he has on your wrist he tosses your arm away forcibly.

"Refer to me with that name once more and I'll see to it that your neck is snapped in two. Fucking Brat." His voice curls into a low hiss.

[kate04us]

What Happens on Stakeout...

@virtualtaleinternet asked for # 6 from the kisses part of this prompt list: “Kissing to hide from the bad guys” Thank you so much for nudging my muse back into the sandbox. I had a lot of fun playing with this!

The night was a lot colder than Sharon had thought when she left her condo earlier, wearing skinny jeans, ankle boots, and a light jacket over her red blouse. Then again, she hadn’t expected to still be here two hours later, lurking at a street corner with Lieutenant Flynn as they waited for their suspect to come out of the club. They had found a small ledge at the mouth of a dark alley where they sat and talked, their heads close together. From their vantage point they were able to see the club’s side doors, and to the casual observer, they looked like a couple that took a little break from the club to get some air and quiet. They got regular updates from their team inside, which consisted of Detectives Sykes and Sanchez, as well as Lieutenant Tao. Buzz and Lieutenant Provenza coordinated the entire operation from a surveillance van that was parked across the road from the front entrance.

Sharon hadn’t commented on her oldest Lieutenant’s insistence that he didn’t lurk when she had assigned posts for the night. To be honest, she was more than happy that she didn’t have to spend her evening with him. At least Lieutenant Flynn was trying to be civil. It had taken him a while to relax and warm up to her, but once he had, he turned out to be pretty good company. They had killed some time by talking about the case at first, before they had moved on to the recent round of budget cuts, and much to her secret delight, department gossip. People still went quiet whenever she walked into a room, so she had a hard time hearing all the juicy bits of news that floated around the building. That her Lieutenant thought to share with her made her believe that maybe he was slowly starting to accept her as part of the team.

After that, they talked about their children, a topic Sharon never tired of, and Flynn was an attentive and patient listener. His stories about his own children were tinged with sadness, however, as he shared some of the problems he encountered in his quest to make amends. Sharon knew something about lost trust and how hard it was to rebuild, but she felt bad for him, because it was easy to see how hard he tried and how much he wanted to repair what he had broken. She felt even worse for her own children, because their father never attempted to make things right.

Listening to Andy talk about his grandmother’s necklace that he intended to give his daughter for her birthday in a few weeks, Sharon hooked her left ankle over her knee. She took off her shoe and adjusted the seam of her stockings that had been digging into her toe for quite a while, sighing in relief once she put her shoe back on and the pressure was gone. Before she had a chance to straighten up again or notice that Andy had stopped talking, she was hauled to her feet, backed into the brick wall, and had a mouth firmly pressed against hers.

Her surprised squeal was muffled as he didn’t allow her to draw away from him. She was about to either slap him or shove him away when she caught movement out of the corner of her eyes. Apparently, their suspect had exited the club, but he wasn’t alone. With him was one of the women she and Andy had interviewed as witnesses earlier that day. If she saw them, they would surely be recognized, and their entire plan would fall apart. Obviously, Andy had registered the threat way ahead of her.

Sharon didn’t appreciate his spontaneous disguise, but it was too late to change tactics. Shaking herself out of her shock, Sharon looped her arms around his neck and drew him closer. Following her lead, Andy stepped in between her slightly spread legs, his arms around her back holding her even tighter. Without conscious thought, her eyes slipped close as he gently nibbled on her lower lip. Later, she would be embarrassed about the soft moan that escaped her, but Andy Flynn was a spectacular kisser, even when he was just faking it.

And then it suddenly didn’t feel all that fake anymore. His tongue traced her lower lip, soothing the skin he had just nibbled on, and her lips parted, welcoming his tongue, and caressing it with her own. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, and for a long moment, she forgot all about suspects, and witnesses, and colleagues that were close by. She decided that she was going to enjoy this moment, that after all these years, she would allow herself these fleeting seconds of pleasure. Once their case was put to bed and Sharon found herself in the solitude of her home, she would spend endless hours analyzing this and berate herself for getting pulled into one of Andy Flynn’s crazy schemes. For now, though, she would focus on the present moment, on the faint taste of coffee on his lips and the heat of his body so close to hers, chasing away the chill of the night. She would enjoy the way his hands caressed her back in long, firm strokes, the feeling of their hips pressed together, and the way her fingers slid through his surprisingly soft hair.

It was Lieutenant Tao tapping Andy on the shoulder that dragged them back to reality. Andy sprang back as if he had been stung by a bee, leaving Sharon to struggle for control of her breathing while discretely holding onto the wall with one hand and trying very hard not to turn the shade of a tomato. Looking around the corner of the alley, Sharon saw Detectives Sykes and Sanchez following their suspect at a slight distance. She closed her eyes for a second, drew a deep breath, and refocused on the task at hand.

“Lieutenant, I want you to join Detectives Sykes and Sanchez. Take turns trailing Sanders and see if he leads us anywhere interesting. I’ll have Lieutenant Provenza join you.”

Andy snorted and Mike couldn’t suppress a grin. They all knew how much her second in command would complain, but it couldn’t be helped.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but you will have to put up with him for a little while. Mr. Sanders’ companion knows Lieutenant Flynn and me. We can’t risk her spotting us.”

She held his gaze for a moment, and to her relief, his eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly as the reason for the unusual scene he had encountered suddenly dawned on him.

“All right,” he replied, nodding, “I’ll... uhm –“ He gestured in the direction his colleagues had gone and, at her nod, followed them at a quick pace.

Mike’s departure left them in an awkward silence, neither one of them daring to look at the other for an endless moment, but they had no time to dwell on what had happened. Clearing her throat, Sharon slowly raised her eyes to meet his gaze, finding him a little flushed, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his head.

“Come on, Lieutenant. We should get back to the van.”

Her voice sounded huskier than usual to her, but she hoped that he wouldn’t notice. If he did, he was kind enough not to comment on it. Andy fell into step beside her as they hurried down the street and around the corner. They jogged across the street to the spot where the surveillance van was parked. Before they opened the door, Sharon put a hand on his arm to make him pause and look at her. She wanted to say something, to reassure them both that what had happened in that alley wouldn’t change anything, that it was just a tactical maneuver, and that she wasn’t angry. She couldn’t find the right words, however. Anything she came up with sounded either like he needed forgiveness for what he had done or too much like she had enjoyed it. That she had, in fact, enjoyed kissing him was beside the point, and he most definitely didn’t need to know that.

In the end, she settled for a gentle squeeze of his arm, a soft smile, and a nod of her head. When she saw his shoulders sag in relief, she knew that he understood. They had kissed, and they both might have enjoyed it, but there was no need to mention it again. They respected one another enough to take it for what it was and move on. It would be one of those fond, yet slightly awkward memories that was never shared with anyone else. And if, later, when she was alone, she decided to review it for her own enjoyment, she was certain that Andy wouldn’t hold it against her.

[scribbleb-red]

i like your face - a morning au

“I’ll get the drinks,” Neil says as soon as they walk into Eden’s.

Andrew raises an eyebrow.

“No one needs to get stabbed tonight,” Neil says. “It’s Hapless Sam on the bar.”

“Spoilsport,” Andrew mutters, but doesn’t move with Neil when he heads to the bar.

Hapless Sam is the new barman helping Roland, stepping in for a few months whilst Ebony, the usual yin to Roland’s yang, is off to have surgery.

Hapless Sam is also the bane of Andrew’s life. He never gets a drinks order right. He constantly peppers them with bad one liners. He also once tried to pick up both Neil and Nicky and Aaron in one night - only stopping when Aaron suddenly duplicated and Andrew stuck a blade under his chin. After that, Roland stepped in.

But the bar was overrun tonight and if Andrew had to so much as look at Hapless Sam - well, someone is going to prison and someone is leaving in a body bag. And you don't need to be a genius to figure out which.

So Neil goes to the bar and Andrew keeps an eye on him - on the red of his hair, the sway of his hips, a new quirk that he had to know drove Andrew crazy. It should be illegal for someone like Neil to have any kind of rhythm - but Neil wasn’t a bad dancer. He was sinuous and unreal, if a little self conscious, and Andrew really really needed a drink before that happened again.

Because it will, promised the voice in his head. Nicky will never rest until Neil dances again. Even if it killed Andrew. He suspected it was partly because Nicky wanted him to dance too.

Neil came back an achingly long time later. There was something odd about the way he looked at Andrew, half a question hovering right beneath his skin.

He set down the tray and Nicky chitters, Aaron glowers, Kevin reaches forward expectantly.

But there’s a yell from the bar and Andrew looks up to see Roland’s furious face, Hapless Sam’s horror.

He catches Roland’s eye and the frantic look there - the way he's turned to stare at Andrew tells him everything.

“Don’t fucking drink anything,” he says to his table.

Aaron puts his glass down. Kevin looks torn but relents under Andrew's stare. Nicky frowns and leans back.

Neil however sways on the spot. His eyes are blown wide, two black pools ringed with the finest circle of ice blue. Andrew reaches for him and Neil reaches back. He looks sad and confused.

"N'drew..." he slurs, "Did I do su'thin bad?" There's a tinge of British in there, a twirl of French.

Andrew tugs Neil down beside him, stomach hollowing because he doesn't know what Neil's taken but it's clear he's taken something. Rage pools in the empty cavern of his chest. He goes to push Neil at Nicky - Roland clearly knows something and he wants answers - but Neil makes a noise in his throat and catches hold of Andrew's sleeve. Even high he's not crossing lines. Andrew aches with that knowledge.

"What did I do?" Neil asks again. "I don' have none secrets."

It takes a moment for Andrew to realise Neil thinks this was his fault. That in some part of this idiot's head, he believes Andrew would drug him again.

"It wasn't me," Andrew says, voice low. "You're okay Neil."

"Stay with Nicky, I'll talk to Roland." And probably gut Hapless Sam, whose fault it inevitably is.

Neil makes that whining noise again and Andrew wishes they didn't have an audience. "Don't wanna kiss Nicky."

"Who said anything about kissing?"

"Not Nicky. Only you."

Nicky's guilty look sets Andrew's teeth on edge.

Andrew needs to talk to Roland but can't leave Neil with the Monsters. Fortunately, Roland comes to them bearing a new tray of drinks and a harried expression.

"Fucking hell guys, I'm sorry. None of you drank those, right?"

"Don't worry Sammy's been banished to the kitchen, he's not doing anything like this again and--"

Andrew is up and in his face within seconds - pinioning Roland against the wall, arm across his throat, knife pricking his side.

"What has he taken?"

Roland notices Neil, gulps.

"It's a new syrup - they call it Goblin Juice and it looks just like lime cordial - Sam thought it was lime for the soda. Fuck Andrew do you need the knife? Ow fuck fuck fuck okay stop, it's made using shrooms. Non addictive. Just meant to make you happy - kinda soft."

But of course Neil was the one who drank it. If it had been any of the others, perhaps no one would have even noticed - maybe even celebrated the free high.

But Neil...

Kevin and Aaron are helping themselves to the new drinks when he lets Roland go. Nicky looks pale and nervous and is holding a shot but not drinking. Neil has flopped back on their sofa and is staring at Andrew, a wide smile on his face that Andrew immediately hates.

"I really like your face," Neil says when his brain catches up and realises Andrew is paying attention again. "You have a good face."

Andrew shoots daggers with his eyes at Roland and the barman flees, promising free drinks for the night and the next, forever, whenever.

Neil smiles and reaches for Andrew again as he comes back.

Andrew is not drunk enough for this shit, especially when Nicky coos. "Oh he's so cute. He should have gotten high sooner."

Andrew wants to warn his cousin to back off but Neil has wriggled around and nuzzled his face against Andrew's shoulder. It's heedlessly distracting. It's dangerously adorable.

"Do yous like my face Nyandrew?" Neil says. "I really really like yours. Look at your face. Hey is my head still attached?"

Andrew sees the way Neil is teetering, wraps his hand across the back of Neil's neck and tugs him close. It's not a hug. It's for the idiot's own safety that's all. However, apparently for sky-high-Neil, silence and gestures isn't an answer.

"You don't like my face?"

The slight tremble in Neil's voice is what makes Andrew swallow his frustration and reply. He can't stand that tremble. "I like your fucking face." "I like yours too." And then Neil's finger boops Andrew's cheek.

"Nose," he says. "Good nose."

For. Fucks. Sake.

But it's kind of hilarious (and ruinously cute) as Neil - gentle as a moth wing - strokes over Andrew's cheek and along his temple, finds the bridge of his nose and the swell of his lips.

"Good face."

Andrew contains himself by a miracle. He's fairly sure Aaron is filming this.

"If that footage goes anywhere but the trash, I'll fucking stab you."

"If you were going to stab me, you would have done it a long time ago brother."

"No stabbing," Neil says. "Too many witnesses. Oh hey, look at the fireflies."

Neil lifts one hand to the empty ceiling. There are no fireflies. This is Eden's. Andrew wants to take Neil home but doesn't think putting him in a car is going to do much good right about now.

"You like my face," Neil sighs and sits back. "Even all of this."

"Yes," Andrew says. "Because of all of this."

It's not the scars, it's because Neil survived. That he should have broken and yet still held himself together by tooth and claw.

"I didn't drug you," Andrew says, close to the shell of Neil's ear. "I promise."

"Okay," Neil says. "Good. I don't wanna kiss Nicky."

And there it is again, the second time Neil has mentioned this. Andrew looks at his cousin, who has escaped with Kevin onto the dancefloor.

They'll have a little chat later, when Neil isn't on another planet.

"You're the best," Neil says. "I'll kiss you."

"Not tonight."

Because even if Neil is warm and flush against him. Even if Neil is soft and pliant and willing. This is a man who has been drugged and cannot give consent. Hell, he's watching fireflies that don't exist and stroking Andrew's chin, like he's forgotten Andrew has teeth. Neil is not okay.

Aaron leans back in his chair. "If it's molly, he could be flying for hours."

"It's some kind of shroom shit."

"So even longer then."

Andrew's fingers tighten on Neil's shoulder. "So we can't wait this out?" He should have asked Roland that.

"Probably not, no. Take him home. I'll bring the others."

And for once Andrew decides to trust his brother. He gathers Neil and his loose limbs and leaves Aaron to manage Kevin and Nicky. It’s a one of the hardest things he’s ever done but Bee’s buzzing voice tells him it's time to let Aaron prove himself, standalone.

Neil is awful as they leave - smiling at everyone and everything, even things that aren’t there. His eyes shine and every time he looks at Andrew, there’s a draw of breathe like he’s never seen him before.

“You are,” Neil says, “the best thing. The abs’lute best thing. Hold me up and keep me sage, no safe. Mean safe. You me safe.”

And Neil cannot sing but his voice is sing song and full of wonder.

Andrew is going to gut Hapless Sam like a fish from chin to pelvis.

They drive home - slowly because Neil keeps getting distracted by things Andrew is doing, like blinking (your eyelashes are so white, like snow flakes Andrew) and breathing (but look how you move, so amazing). But Neil is so soft and happy and obsessed, it’s hard to be angry.

Columbia is dark, their house musty with absence. They’ve not visited for a while and Andrew had been hoping for something slightly different tonight.

Neil apparently had too. “Yes? Andrew? Yes?” He says.

“No,” Andrew says. And he never thought he’d hate seeing Neil obey - not with this - but there’s hurt and confusion and concern and a thousand layers of emotion on Neil’s face when he hears it this time. All the feelings Neil must usually keep tucked away when it isn’t always yes for Andrew.

Andrew relents, “Just this,” he says as he settles onto the sofa, guiding Neil down with him. Neil’s reaction is instant - dopey smile and arms that snake around Andrew in a loose but escapable hold.

“Warm,” he says. “Strong.”

The hours tick by in highs and lows - Neil is happy in phases, then almost crying in others. He tells Andrew things that cross his mind, about Andrew, about the Foxes and exy. He hides in Andrew’s hoody when he sees shadows crawling and is convinced they’re from his father.

Andrew does his best to soothe and protect - it’s all in Neil’s head and Andrew isn’t a soft man, but he keeps Neil close and lets him talk. A few years ago he couldn’t have done this. But a few years ago he and Neil were new and still cutting each other on their sharp edges.

Aaron herds an unhappy Nicky and an almost paralytic Kevin inside. Aaron seems sober but that could just be in comparison.

“Our cousin,” Aaron tells Andrew, “is a fool. But you care about him and shouldn’t kill him for doing what you asked.”

“What did he do?”

Aaron shrugs. “Just a kiss I believe. But might explain a bit more why your nut-job boyfriend knocked himself out that time.”

“That was cos imma liar,” Neil chimes with all the confidence of the truly seshed. “Liar liar liar.”

“Not anymore.”

“Yeah. Not with you.”

There's water and toast and Neil naps at one point but Andrew doesn't because he knows what's next - and he's right. Neil is sick for what feels like hours but isn't. Aaron brings more water. A small part of Andrew wonders if his twin actually likes seeing Neil so ridiculous.

Turns out he's right about that too.

Aaron tells him when Neil is hurling up his guts that seeing Neil like this, seeing Andrew with him like this, makes more sense than anything he's seen prior.

"You're everything to him." Aaron doesn't say that Neil is everything to Andrew but the implication is there.

And when Neil is finally in their bed, safe and asleep, Andrew calls Roland and leaves a warning. Hapless Sam had better be fired or there wouldn't be an Eden's Twilight.

He stays awake and stays awake. He falls asleep around 6am.

Neither of them stir until well into the afternoon and when Neil does, he buries his face in the pillows and groans.

"Oh my god. Andrew I'm so --"

"Shut up." Andrew doesn't want apologies for this. He sees the embarrassed pink of Neil's ears, the flush on his neck. "Stop."

Neil groans again and Andrew knows he must feel like shit right about now. That he's mortified. That he's worried. That Andrew has the power to make it right.

Something wicked flickers in his gut.

"Hey junkie," he says. "I like your face."

-The End-

Notes:

[leapyearkisses]

Orbs Are Bad News 2/2 - (m/m) Gerrit/Llewellyn

Part deux wherein they fuck. I have no shame. Happy Sunday. 

There are also some feelings.

NSFW, MESS, outdoor sex

I’m glad I decided to reread and repost these lol

---

"Are you ever going to stop sneezing?" Remembrance asked.  At the same time, Cordes said, "One thousand blessings, Llewellyn, one for each."  The two of them were several yards ahead on the road, and only Cordes was looking back over his shoulder.  Right now, the four party members were the only travelers on this particular stretch, although as they got closer to civilization, they'd started to pass the odd wanderer, farmers with wagons, even a merchant or two.  The woods here were broken up periodically by stretches of arable land, clear-cut several decades ago and now waving with wheat, flax, or various vegetable leaves.  The fields were golden in the late sun.  Their shadows stretched behind them like taffy, rippling on the cobblestones.  The day was vanishing quickly, and Gerrit could sense his companions' impatience to move on even as he stopped again himself, drawing out his handkerchief in a now very familiar motion.

Llewellyn, for his part, could not answer them, face buried in his elbow as he ducked with another reluctant outburst. "Hahktschiu!  Hahh- happtsch!"

"Bless," said Gerrit, and he stepped in front of the elf to shield him marginally from view.  He laid one warm hand on the back of Llewellyn's neck and lifted the handkerchief with the other, capturing the next sneeze in the flannel folds.  He settled his fingers firmly around Llewellyn's nose.

This was an arrangement that had been born out of necessity three days ago when the party had raided a bandit camp's plundered stores.  Along with a good stash of gold and gems, they'd found a blue crystal orb, cursed perhaps, that had summarily become attached to both of Llewellyn's hands, rendering the sorcerer unable to do most anything... including take care of his cold on his own.

Llewellyn blew his nose into the handkerchief, wetting the cloth and dampening Gerrit's fingers through it.  Originally quite opposed to such a display outside of the most private circumstances, the elf had been forced to put his pride aside and let Gerrit help him.  His fever had abated the previous day, but the frequency of his sneezing had increased, as if his body was insistent now on ridding itself of whatever illness remained.  It was a horrific prospect to Llewellyn to catch the resulting mess every time in the sleeve of his robes... so he suffered Gerrit to hold the handkerchief, even though they were walking along the road where any might see them.

Despite some initial teasing, Remembrance and Cordes had quickly grown accustomed to the practice and now cared not at all, except to complain.  "We're going to have to camp again," grumbled Remembrance.  "Five miles from Veigh and we're going to be stuck without a bath!"

"Is there anything I could do for you?" Cordes asked, somewhat exasperated.  The priest had made several herbal concoctions for Llewellyn over the past few days, but none had helped the elf's nose much.  Cordes's specialty was unfortunately not the curing of disease but the mending of bones and flesh.

"Ndo," Llewellyn growled, as fed up as the rest of them.  "I'm beyond heh- help. Hngtschiu!"

"Bless you, arimelda," said Gerrit, trying to keep his voice even.  He shifted the handkerchief so that Llewellyn could have a drier spot, trying to ignore a glimpse of slickness on the elf's face.  "Remembrance, Cordes, why don't the two of you go on ahead?  Find an inn, get a room, take a bath, whatever you want.  It might be prudent also to send a message ahead to the Mages Guild about the orb.  Will you do that?  Llewellyn and I will join you when we arrive."

Cordes nodded.  "Yes, I'll draft a letter as soon as- Hey!"  Remembrance had grabbed his arm and was rushing ahead already.

"Let's go, man!" she said.  "Everyone loves a damn priest; you're my ticket to a good room, so may your god help you if you dawdle."  Her pointed tail swished as she practically jogged down the road.  Cordes spluttered but could no more stand up to her as to a tornado, so off they went.  It was a remarkably short time before the two of them were out of earshot, disappearing around a bend.

Gerrit sighed but turned his attention back to Llewellyn, who was blowing his nose again.  The handkerchief was running out of clean corners this late in the day, but the elf leaned back this time when he was finished.  "All set?" Gerrit asked.

"Yes."  Llewellyn rubbed his eyes on his upper arm, wiping away a spare tear from the effort.  "...My apologies."  He cleared his throat, refusing to meet Gerrit's gaze.  "We may arrive after dark."

"You're ill," said Gerrit, trying to fold the flannel in a way as to avoid his pocket getting wet.  "We'd move faster if you let me carry y-"

"No."

"Then I don't mind taking a more leisurely pace."  Gerrit smiled.  Even after everything, Llewellyn was stubborn.  Honestly, since they weren't really in a rush, he didn't really care when they reached Veigh; they'd only detoured here to try and remove the orb.  If Llewellyn, the most inconvenienced, didn't want to give up his pride and piggyback on... well, Gerrit found his noble hauteur inexplicably cute.

He also wasn't in a particular hurry because it was awfully uncomfortable to make any sort of time with his arousal pressed flush to his thigh.

Llewellyn coughed into his elbow and then started walking again.  Gerrit had pulled back his hood for him in the morning and braided his hair, and the crown of plaits caught the afternoon sunlight like an obsidian.  Gerrit tried not to let his eyes linger on the sorcerer's pale nape.  Or any other part of him.  He and Llewellyn had been travelling together for close to three years, working for their current patron in the capital, and in that time Gerrit had felt himself growing closer to the elf.  Wanting to be closer, anyway.  

Llewellyn shot a glance at him and caught him looking.  Gerrit flushed and turned his gaze back ahead to the road.

"You've been very accommodating during all of this," the elf said, tone carefully neutral.

Gerrit shrugged.  "It doesn't bear mentioning.  We're comrades."

"Comrades," Llewellyn repeated, an edge to his voice that Gerrit couldn't quite place.  "Is that all it is?"  He kicked a stick that had fallen to the cobblestones, sending it into the brush. Somewhere to the right, bumblebees droned over a meadow.

Gerrit swallowed.  "Yes?  You and I, we've helped each other before.  I consider you to be a steadfast companion."  Eyes on the road.  Eyes on the dappled play of shadowed leaves and light on the ground.  "Why do you ask?"

"So shy," Llewellyn exclaimed, a tad mockingly.  "You've never been shy about taking me to bed, Gerrit."  Despite his short height, the elf seemed to find it easy to look down his nose at the much taller fighter.  "Has something changed?"

"Changed?"  Eyes on the road.

Llewellyn stopped walking.  "You called me 'arimelda.'  'Dearest.'  Did you think I wouldn't hear you over my sneezing?"  He couldn't cross his arms with his hands trapped by the orb, but the set of his jaw was determined and his firm brows were arched.  "I wasn't so distracted then as you seem to have thought."

Gerrit shoved his hands in his pockets.  He stopped walking but didn't turn.  "Apparently not," he muttered.  "Look, we can set it aside.  Doesn't have to mean anything – doesn't have to change anything.  I know a highborn elf like you wouldn't consider an official relationship with a half-elven bastard, and I've known that from the start.  For my whole life.  So... I care about you.  But it can just be as comrades, or whatever you want it to be."  Llewellyn was quiet, and after a long minute, Gerrit did turn on his heel, desperate to know what kind of reaction he'd provoked.

He saw Llewellyn standing with his eyes closed and head titled back, lips parted.  The elf's nostrils flared as he gasped.

"Are you going to sneeze again??" Gerrit asked.  He threw up his hands, then went for his handkerchief once more.  They ­did have an arrangement.

He strode back over to Llewellyn's side and tucked the cloth around his nose again, thumb and forefinger just resting on the elf's nostrils.  He started to rub Llewellyn's back.  "You have the worst timing, you know?  Here I am, spilling my heart to you and everything."  

"Sh-hhuh-t up, I jh- just nih-" Llewellyn gasped again and gave in; he had no other choice.  "Hahktscht!"  He moaned and pressed closer into the handkerchief, thick congestion only aggravating the itch that remained inside.  "Hkktschtt!  Hngtscht!  Hahh- ah-- ankcxttschiu!"

"Easy... it's okay."  Gerrit massaged Llewellyn’s nose, tried to soothe the irritation.  He guided Llewellyn to the side of the road, and, in a moment of calm, settled him to sit on the grassy bank.  He followed, kneeling at the elf's side.  Llewellyn was tearing up again and his nose was twitching against the pads of Gerrit's fingers.  Gerrit felt electric all over.  He found himself wishing the handkerchief was gone so that he might touch the soft, heated skin of Llewellyn's septum, coax the elf to relax and loose his tension, sneeze into Gerrit's palm.  The mess didn't bother him; none of it bothered him.  He was supremely unbothered.  His cock was almost painfully hard.

It took several more minutes punctuated with more urgent expulsions before Llewellyn seemed to trust himself to speak.  His eyes were wet with unshed tears, eyelids tender and reddened.  His nose was brightly ruddy, running to chapped.  He had to take a shaky breath, collecting his thoughts.  "Gerrit."

"Yes?"  Gerrit lowered the handkerchief, gently pinching as he did to clear any lingering moisture.  He wasn't ready to hear a rejection, nor did he feel particularly ready for a lecture or a tirade or even a logical exploration of why a relationship was a bad idea.  He wanted, if possible, to keep walking to Veigh, side by side, listening to the bees and dragonflies and songbirds settling in for the evening, feeling the light breeze on his face, replete with the scents of summer.  

"Kiss me."

Gerrit blinked, mental caravan bunching to a halt.  "What?"

Llewellyn nudged him in the chest with the orb.  "Kiss me.  You're all worked up."  He cleared his throat.  "And judging by the state of you, you're not put off by my cold.  So?"  He tilted his head to the side, gently, closed his eyes.  "I want you to kiss me."

Baffled, but feeling as though maybe all was not lost, Gerrit obliged, pressing their lips together.  His own eyes slid closed and he cupped Llewellyn's cheek, deepening the kiss, touching their tongues together, trying to convey how he felt.  Whatever had changed.  The kiss lasted for too short a time; Llewellyn broke away to breathe, eyes half-lidded, but he didn't lean away.

"I'm not going to dismiss you out of hand," he said.  "You or your feelings.  But I would ask for some time to think."  He looked up through his lashes.  "Are you feeling better?"

Gerrit could feel his pulse in every extremity.  "Not really," he managed, and he kissed Llewellyn again, this time sliding one hand under the elf's head and one at his hip and pressing him back to lay in the grass.  He moaned in his throat as Llewellyn kissed back, and when they had to break for breath, he started to kiss at Llewellyn's forehead, jaw, throat, wherever he could touch skin.  His hands roamed over the elf's body, smoothing over hip and thigh and belly until he could start to undo the buttons on Llewellyn's close-cut robes.

"Gerrit," gasped Llewellyn.  He moved the orb between them, jamming it into Gerrit's sternum.  "You are not going to sleep with me on the side of the damn road!  Get ahold of yourself!"

Gerrit growled at the quick pain in his chest, then shook his head and leaned back.  He flushed deeply and pulled his hands away.  "Oh.  Oh, fuck, sorry.  I-"

"Pick me up."  Llewellyn lifted his arms.

"What??"  Gerrit's brain was having a hard time keeping up at the moment, all of his blood being elsewhere.

"There was a thicker copse of trees back about thirty feet, on the left."  Llewellyn waved the orb at him.  "Pick me up.  We can lay down there."

So.  So Gerrit ducked his head into the circle of Llewellyn’s arms and picked him up, holding him securely and setting off down the road again, back the way they’d come.  The elf was right; there, about twenty feet back from the bank, was a thick copse of pines, all grown together with wild geranium and maidenhead ferns. Gerrit pushed through, shoulder first. Despite its proximity to the thoroughfare, the inside of the stand was quiet and shielded completely from view. This would do nicely.

He set Llewellyn back on his feet and made short work of undressing him, first freeing the sorcerer from his pouches and bags, then undoing the silver buttons on his robe from his collarbone to his crotch.  The rich fabric fell open appealingly.  Next, Gerrit freed the elf from his boots and leggings.  A long white shirt, woven from the finest of elven angora, still covered him, but Gerrit pushed the fabric up over Llewellyn’s belly, leaning in to kiss the elf again and touching him intimately.

Llewellyn moaned and nudged Gerrit’s hip with the orb.  “Now you,” he said.  “I want to see your body.”

Gerrit complied, making quick time shedding his cloak, pack, leather armor, breeches, boots.  Two daggers, two short swords, caltrops, a bow and quiver, a glaive, and a spiked whip followed.  He pushed them to the side as Llewellyn rolled his eyes.

"You can't possibly have a use for all of those," the elf said, and then Gerrit captured his mouth again.

He laid Llewellyn down on the soft carpet of pine needles, using his cloak to cover the ground and double as a makeshift pillow.  The elf was beautiful in the shifting shade, skin flawless.  He had the orb resting on his chest and it glowed intermittently in the inconstant sunlight.  The gold chain netting that encapsulated both the orb and Llewellyn's fine-boned hands glimmered.  "You know," said Gerrit, smoothing a hand down Llewellyn's bare thigh.  "You'd look pretty good bound up in gold chain."

"This isn't enough for you?"  He scoffed.

Gerrit laughed.  "It would be fun to tease you.  I love it when you fuss at me.  So cute."  He dodged Llewellyn's elbow and settled down on his stomach, hooked one of Llewellyn's legs over his shoulder, and nuzzled the base of the elf's cock.  "Ready, arimelda?"  His own cock was under him, pressed to his stomach in the confines of his shirt.  He could feel his pulse in the head of it, quickening with the scent of his lover.

"Yes, you prick," sighed the elf, and he moaned when Gerrit started to kiss him and lave his skin.  His fingers flexed on the orb, longing to wind into Gerrit's hair.

Gerrit took Llewellyn into his mouth eagerly, fingers curled over the elf's thighs, fingertips pressing at the sensitive inner surface as he sucked and teased and swallowed.  Like this, he could focus on Llewellyn's pleasure.  The noises the usually stoic and prideful sorcerer was making were enough to make Gerrit moan, mouth full, and rock his hips.  Nothing pleased Gerrit more than seeing Llewellyn undone, seeing the elf flushed and open and undone for him.  And he shivered, all over, when he heard the elf's breath catch and his tone go wavery.  He thought he could come from this, listening to Llewellyn sneeze while pleasuring him implacably with a heated, well-placed tongue.

"Aa, aa, ahh- ih- Gerrit, I-" Llewellyn drew his knee up, curling, heel drawing along Gerrit's back.  "I nih- need to snih- hh-"

Gerrit drew his head back, let Llewellyn's cock free for a moment.  He didn't loosen his grip on the elf's legs, though, wound up and desirous.  "Okay by me, melda, it's okay.  Feel all right?  Want me to stop?"  He was breathless himself, had to force the words past the distraction of his arousal, but he would abide.

"No, don't stop," Llewellyn groaned, then turned his head to the side.  "Hpptscht!  Hah- Haktschiu!"

"Bless, bless."  Gerrit kissed Llewellyn's thigh tenderly, then nipped it, drew his tongue over the hurt, sucked a bruise to mark its place.  He swallowed Llewellyn down again as the elf cried out in pleasure and then bent with another helpless burst.  Gerrit wondered if he could make Llewellyn come simultaneously with a sneeze and what that might feel like.  The fantasy set him alight.  His abdomen was tight, his cock like a brand on his stomach. He redoubled his efforts.

Gerrit felt it first, when Llewellyn came, in the tightening of the elf's thighs and stomach, then tasted the salt of his release.  His world narrowed down to taking it in, swallowing, milking with his mouth while Llewellyn cried out, going until the elf was pushing him away, keening, oversensitive.  He didn't wait to lift Llewellyn then into his lap, cradling him with one arm and stroking himself with the other hand, desperate to come as well.  Llewellyn pressed his face to the junction of Gerrit's neck and shoulder, tightly gripping the cloth of Gerrit's shirt as they rocked together.  The elf's nose was gently wet and he was panting, sniffling.  Gerrit came with a shout, holding him close, shaking with an overabundance of pleasure.  He let go of his cock and embraced Llewellyn fully.  He had enough presence of mind not to confess to anything, but he couldn't stop himself from murmuring how beautiful, how soft.

Gradually the world came back.  Birdsong, first, and the bees, the sounds of the trees swaying in the light breeze.  The lingering heat of the day, dampened by the shade and the growing dusk.  The musty smell of pine needles and the sharper hint of sap, the scents of sex, the pressure of Llewellyn astride his lap, the bite of uneven ground against his knees.  Llewellyn was touching his cheek, trying to say something sweet, failing because of his cold again.

"Ah- hh- Ttschgktst!"

Wetness against his neck.  Gerrit wound his fingers with Llewellyn's and kissed his jaw.  "Bless you," he said.  "I'll find you a healer in Veigh.  We'll get you well again.  Right after we free you from the orb."  He laid his cheek against the back of Llewellyn's hand tenderly.  Then he paused. "Wait."  Straightening, he brought his hands between them.  The right was laced with Llewellyn's left.  "The orb is gone."

Llewellyn straightened also, looking down at his hands.  His hands with no orb.  He lifted them both, amazed.  And then wiped his nose on his wrist, sighing in pleasure.  Gerrit tried not to blush despite everything.

"Where did it go?" he asked, looking past the elf's shoulder.  "Why did it come off?"

"Who even cares at this point??"  Llewellyn had let go of him and was stretching, running his palms over his body, touching his own arms and face and cock, finally able to move and feel again after three days of magical bondage.  He wiggled his fingers and then clapped his palms together, raising a small flame with their parting.  "I have my freedom back.  I can cast spells again.  I can-" He smiled brilliantly.  "I can touch you, too."  He dropped his hands suddenly to Gerrit's lap, nimbly taking Gerrit's cock between them.

Gerrit lost track of the orb immediately.

---

It was dark indeed when the two of them made it to the inn in Veigh, but both were in high spirits.  Gerrit had relinquished handkerchief duty back to Llewellyn with a great internal mourning, but he could always fantasize about this again in the future (he did, frequently), and he knew that Llewellyn, despite his best efforts, would catch more colds on the road (he did, more frequently than he would like).

Remembrance and Cordes had only been able to secure one room, it seemed, with two beds.  Gerrit resigned himself, going up the stairs, to sleeping on the floor. But... it was apparent upon entering the small space that... well, their priest and thief had ended up taking up only one of the beds, together.  Gerrit and Llewellyn traded glances.

"I don't think I want to ask," said Llewellyn, going for the free bed.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Gerrit replied, joining him.

In the morning, Cordes, with great dignity sprung from embarrassment (the cause of which he did not volunteer) informed them that a letter had not been sent to the Mages Guild yet.  He was immensely relieved to find that one was no longer needed and quick to congratulate Llewellyn on his newly regained freedom.  Remembrance just chuckled from the bed and took her time buckling her armor back on.  

Already in Veigh, the party spent some time stocking up on medicines and liquefying some of the heavier treasures they'd liberated from the bandit camp.  Gerrit sent a message on to their patron to expect them back in the capital in a couple of weeks, barring disaster.  They purchased horses and set out, ready for the next adventure.

---

The orb lay still in the pine thicket, nestled like an egg among the ferns, waiting for the next hapless traveler. 

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme Lines from "AHS: Coven" Episode 10: "The Magical Delights of Stevie Nicks"

Drink this, it'll calm your nerves.

I'll cast a little spell for you.

I'm ashamed to show you my weakness.

I might have shed a tear or two myself if I'd lost everyone I had.

I'm over 300 years old.

Everyone I done ever met done followed after the Grim Reaper.

I taught myself long ago not to waste tears for the dead.

It's your kindness that has touched my soul.

I feel like I've been alone for so long, it's a relief to have found an equal. Even if that person come in the guise of an enemy.

We have so much to talk about. But not tonight.

Tomorrow we'll draw the battle lines.

Wake up. Your master calls.

Tonight's the night you pay me my due.

Not now. Please.

It's been a hard day.

Hard days deserve a harder night.

You drink my torment like wine.

Why you here in the house of your enemy?

I've come to seek a lasting truce.

I want what's coming to me.

It's the bargain you made so long ago.

You'll have to come back during visiting hours.

Mama's had a hard day.

Put the baby down on the ground and step away from it.

Don't mess with me.

I need this baby.

Put the goddamn baby down. Now!

I warned you.

I'll give you something to cry about.

He was determined to be a hero.

I should've seen it.

It's on me.

Ooh, he hated your ass.

You were my sworn enemy.

You hired him to kill me?

You're not just blind, you are willfully blind.

We don't have to waste our time with worker bees, what we have to do is to find the hive.

What a lovely shawl.

You keep your distance.

I know your game, lady.

Don't bother.

I've surrounded myself with the white spirit light to protect me.

I've already made plans on how to bring myself back.

Well, now why would I want to hurt you?

You can keep your powers.

I don't think you fully appreciate the power of the throne.

You are going to know the world, and what's more they are all going to want to know you.

You owe me five bucks.

Well, that was a morbid field trip.

You're not his type.

I know everything about you.

Did I get the shawl twirl right?

I want to get it right.

Perfect. It was perfect.

My powers are growing.

I can do mind control.

Put out that cigarette.

Now stick it in your vagina.

It was clearly my destiny to die and be reborn, just like our Lord and Savior.

Important men get their pictures taken.

We have to be smart about this.

They pray to one god-- a green, merciless god.

You're tainted.

You let them get inside your head.

We can fight about this for the next ten years, but right now I want to help you.

Don't you understand anything?

You can't help me.

You can't help anyone.

You're worthless, hopeless.

Get out of my sight.

Bring them to me in a weakened state.

She's selfish and she's a whore.

I didn't realize this before, but we can't survive on our own.

You don't have a mean bone in your body.

Maybe you're the kind of leader we need.

I want to say good-bye.

What is that hideous smell?

Clear all the bad spirits out of here.

It's not evil intentions that's making me sick.

We still got work to do.

What has she done to you?

I found love for the first time, and it's given me the passion to keep fighting.

You know the secret.

I don't think you're ready for that.

Tell me your secret.

I thought I was the shit back then.

I had just come into my prime, and my magic was strong.

I was pregnant, and I did not accept the idea of death.

I was invincible.

I come to you once a year, and you give me what I want.

I thought he meant some kind of sexual favors.

I wished for it; it came true.

Unknowingly, I made a deal forged in Hell.

You'd make a beautiful mother.

Children ain't in the cards for you.

Not my baby.

Take it back.

Take the spell back.

I can be mortal again.

Give the child to me.

I want my innocent soul.

What does he want?

Try and get some sleep now.

Just close your eyes and forget about that for now.

This kabob's some kind of tasty.

Thanks for treating.

Pretty soon, you'll be drowning in merch.

Merchandise. Swag. The cookies. You know.

You are cynical.

Everything's transactional.

Guy buys you dinner, he expects a blow job. Welcome to earth.

Players only love you when they're playing.

No, I know what you're trying to do. Mess me up, make me doubt myself.

You think I'm stupid because of where I came from.

Well, I'm not so easily bought, and I ain't that easily fooled.

You're right. I do think you're stupid.

You want to change my opinion?

Enchant these guys, would you?

You're powerful.

I'm powerful.

I don't need you.

I just want to be your friend.

Now lose that ugly shawl.

Stupid bitch.

Where's his body?

I think it's time for us to go.

She has to pay!

You have to be cleansed.

Could you please stop playing for a minute?

I need to focus.

Listen to the celestial tones.

What is that thing? It's hideous and weird.

Don't be a hater, dear.

I cannot tell you how playing this instrument soothes my soul in tempestuous times.

Nothing could soothe my soul.

You buck up, is what you do!

Face reality headlong and carry on.

I have no one, and my powers are gone.

Your salad dressing is absolutely magical.

Maybe you could bottle it.

You've got a lovely personality, and you're always well-groomed.

Are you trying to push me over the edge?

Between us chickens, no matter how hard I worked at it, I never felt special, either.

Look at me, I'm fabulous!

One never knows what the universe has in store for us!

I am an absolute failure.

I don't belong here anymore. I don't belong anywhere!

Vultures are waiting to strip the flesh from our bones.

You get our people on the phone.

Nobody is coming near us.

There's nothing natural about this.

It's time we finally deal with those witches.

You broke out the good stuff.

I don't want to die.

I am not the same as everyone.

I don't give a wet donkey's shit about your title.

I want terms defined.

The deal is off.

You have no soul.

Bum luck, baby.

I'll get my immortality.

I have no soul.

I'll just kill 'em all.

You always hear something.

You stole this baby to kill it.

You don't know what you talking about.

Eat my shit.

Now we'll have more cops on our trail.

Whose baby is that?

You have blood on your hands.

I barely remember my baby's face.

Stop making such a fuss.

I was very clear. No substitutions.

Be a sport.

Do I have to wear this outfit for all eternity?

Anywhere is better than here.

[commander-hanji-zoe]

♥It’s okay to not be okay ♥

♥ Hanji looking after you if you’re feeling low/depressed. No real warnings as such aside from this deals with depression. ♥

♔ I was going to write some head canons on how the vets would look after you/react if you were crying/feeling depressed and struggling. But then I wanted to write something proper about Hanji in particular. So I wrote this, it’s self-serving because it’s made me feel a lot better and the words Hanji says are words I needed to hear. I hope it can help others too. ♔ 

Hanji knocked on your door, it was softer than what you’d expected from them, usually so bubbly and full of life. The way they knocked however showed how observant they are, knowing you weren’t in the happiest of places right now they clearly didn’t want to bring too much energy or noise into your private space. 

“Can I come in?”

Without thinking you nod, of course, Hanji can’t see you, “Yes that’s fine,” you reply.

Hanji opens the door slowly, the way they walk in is clear with caution.

Hanji leans against the wall, “How’re you feeling?”

Your body language tells Hanji everything they need to know, knees pulled into your chest, red eyes from crying, hair unbrushed, room messy. 

You shrug and offer Hanji a weak smile, “A little better than yesterday I guess?” But Hanji knows you’re questioning the information you’re giving them.

There’s silence for a moment when Hanji moves and opens up your window, “There, a little fresh air never did anyone any harm. Besides there’s a lot of birds and bees out today.”

You stifle a giggle, Hanji looks at you and rolls eyes, arms folded but there’s a smile on their face, “Really?”

You giggle, “Sorry, immature I know.”

Hanji shakes their head, “No, it’s good to see you smile.”

You stretch your arms above your head and god does it feel better, it feels good to stretch, maybe it would feel good to take a walk too. 

“I’ve been really worried about you…” Hanji trails off, afraid they might say something to upset you.

You place your feet on the floor and feel momentarily grounded, you know you can trust Hanji. There aren’t many you can but Hanji is good at listening, comforting, problem solving and keeping secrets. Perhaps to talk to someone wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Promise you won’t judge?” You don’t make eye contact, can’t make eye contact.

Hanji grabs a seat and sits on it the wrong way round, their chest pressed to the back of the chair, “As if you need to ask.”

You know this is true, you feel silly for asking.

Hanji reaches out for your hands but doesn’t take them until you acknowledge them and show you are happy for the human contact. When Hanji takes your hands in theirs and gently rubs them, massaging them almost and smiles at you, you know that’s the only answer you need.

“I’ve been feeling really…everything and nothing all at once,” you confess.

Hanji nods and doesn’t say a word.

“Some days I cry and I can’t stop crying and what’s worse is that I don’t know why. If someone had recently died, a family member perhaps or I’d broken up with someone I’d understand. But sometimes nothing had happened, nothing is wrong but I feel like my whole world is falling down around me you know?”

Hanji inhales sharply - something tells you they know what you mean.

“The crying and feeling so sad, so blue, so….so scared,” you choke back a sob. “That’s the worst you know? Others have it far off worse than me and I feel so guilty for feeling like this but it’s like there’s a huge black cloud that follows me or a monster, a titan, sat in the corner of the room. Even when I’m happy it’s still there, like an invisible thread that’s reeling me in… I’m afraid of feeling happy, I’m afraid nothing will ever feel the same again. I feel useless, childish…I wake up some mornings and cry because I’m still here. How awful is that? I have friends who have died beyond the walls and here I am praying I pass in my sleep,” you give a mirthless laugh and hold your hands up. “I feel like I’m a broken doll, who could possibly love someone so used and shattered."

Hanji takes a moment to mull over the words you’ve just said, continuing to hold your hands and softly hum. It’s incredibly soothing and relaxing, your eyes shut and you allow the moment of peace to wash over you.

After some consideration Hanji speaks, “There’s things you need to know okay? You’re feelings are valid no matter what you have or haven’t been through. Grief is not a competition. You are not alone even though you feel like it, there are others who will understand, who have been there okay? There’s no shame in feeling like this, trust me, I’ve had those mornings.”

You look up and search for lies but in their eyes there are none, wait, Hanji has felt like this to?

As if reading your mind Hanji speaks, “Mike’s been there, Moblit, even the Commander has his moments. Sometimes it’s okay to not be okay, it’s okay to feel blue, you don’t have to justify it to anyone and you certainly don’t need to be fixed. You’re human…being human hurts and it’s complex, the road ahead is un trodden… But that’s what sets us apart from the Titans.”

Hanji’s words wash over you like summer sun. 

“Hanji…I’m gonna be okay aren’t I?”

There’s the warmest smile in your directed as Hanji squeezes your hands, “Yes, you are gonna be just fine. I am here for you, I will always be here for you okay?” Hanji cocks their head to the side and there are a thousand words you want to say to them.

Hanji lets go of your hands, “Come on, let’s get you up and out for a bit.”

You nod, determined to at least feel human, even if your mood only improves by a few percent, you know it’ll do good for you emotionally and mentally to get some exercise and have a change of scenery. But first, you awkwardly scratch at the back of your neck, “Hey Hanji do you think you can help me tidy up this place quickly? It sounds silly, but on my own it feels like I’m drowning in tidying, I just don’t know where to begin so I break down and give up but with you…” You know you need to shut up, Hanji understood you perfectly after the first few words.

So the two of you open the window wider, draw the curtains, put dirty laundry in a pile to be washed. You make your bed, tidy up books and notepads. Hanji waters your plants and dusts your desk and shelves. You have to admit once it’s done you already feel a lot better and don’t feel so afraid to come back on your own later.

“Now before we go out,” Hanji begins and picks up a hair brush from your dresser.

You look at yourself in the mirror, your hair hasn’t been brushed in days.

Without a word you sit on the chair Hanji had been sat at before and close your eyes as they hum gently again and slowly brush your hair, teasing out the knots and then styling it for you. 

“There much better,” Hanji says as you stand, “Hug?” They ask and open their arms to you.

Wrapped in the warm and comforting embrace, head against Hanji’s chest so you can hear their heart beating you know you’ll be okay. And even if you’re not, even if it takes time, you know you’re not alone and that will get you through the long nights. 

[bottleofspilledink]

God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter IX

“So…” Eve began, staring at the various stands and stalls and tables with all sorts of different agendas, occasionally shifting her gaze to the people who would weave between it all.

In every sense of the word, today was, for lack of a better word, eventful.

This was most likely why, when they were gathered in the gymnasium for club sign-ups, the pair simply stood amidst the somewhat organized chaos, clueless.

“What now?” Eve pulled out the club sign-up form from her skirt pocket, thankful she hadn’t lost it in all the ruckus. “My offer still stands, I really don’t mind letting you pick the club we join.”

“I mean. I already told you earlier that I don’t really care what club we go to either way.” Lilith shrugged. She wasn’t trying to sound apathetic, but she couldn’t really remember the last time she enjoyed club time solely for it’s activities and not the friends she would do them with. “You pick.”

“Alright, we’re not gonna get anywhere with this, so how about a compromise?”

“I’m listening,” Lilith chuckled. Of course Eve would be the type to suggest something like that.

The girl in question blushed at the sound, but fought to gather her thoughts and continue.

“You can tell me the clubs you don’t like and I’ll do the same. After we narrow down the list, we can settle on a club that we both like, or at least a club that on of us can tolerate.”

“Okay, but let me tell you now, there are a lot of clubs I don’t like.”

It was Eve’s turn to laugh, her hand automatically coming to cover her mouth as she grinned and giggled.

“Tell me anyway.”

“No music club,” Lilith said, right off the bat. “I’m a mediocre singer and I don’t want to spend two or three hours a week singing hymns.”

“Reasonable enough.” Eve recalled being given a small flier when they entered, the colourful paper listing all available clubs and emptied her pockets once more in search of it before crossing out the words “music club” with a pen she had found while looking for the paper. “Anything else?”

“No home economics. You know why.”

Eve just nodded an drew a line across it.

She was doing this to make up for what she did, not draw attention to it.

“And lastly,” Lilith said, voice tinted with humor as she tried to lighten the mood, somewhat guilty when she saw Eve’s face fall when she mentioned home economics, “no math club. ‘Cause I’m not a nerd.”

The girl succeeded, getting a tiny, genuine laugh from Eve that made her heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wing whenever it graced her ears.

“It’s fine, I’m bad at math too.”

Lilith visibly perked up at the words, the teasing grin Eve had so missed making a comeback at long last, “I never said I was bad at math. I’m pretty good at it, actually. I just don’t like doing it more than I have to.”

“Really?” Eve joked, displaying a mock-disbelief. Lilith was no idiot, though judging by her work ethic when it came to CLE, Eve couldn’t help but make a few assumptions. “What score did you get on the practice test a few days ago then?”

“Ninety-four percent.”

At that Eve’s eyes grew wide as saucers. That was better than she had gotten, and, more surprisingly, it was better than what Mary had gotten, ninety percent, an A minus that paled in comparison to Lilith’s A.

“Oh. That’s neat.” What could she say in response to that?

Fortunately, she didn’t have to struggle to say more, as Lilith returned the question to her.

“What did you get on the test.” Lilith wasn’t the type to gloat, at least not to a person she liked, but the thought of Eve thinking her a fool or a failure wasn’t the kind of image she wanted to project either.

“Eighty-seven…” She stared at the floor in shame, suddenly enamored in the scuff marks a muddy sneaker had left on the floor, shame flooding her face in the form of blood, her cheeks taking on a soft pink for different reasons now. Who could have left this here? A student who had forgotten to clean the soles of her shoes? A janitor, maybe?

Lilith couldn’t help but melt at the sight, immediately speaking to comfort the girl.

“Hey, come on. There’s no need to be embarrassed, that’s a pretty good grade, especially coming from someone who says they’re bad at math!” She clasped Eve’s shoulder and gave a gentle, encouraging squeeze, trying to get her to look up from the floor. “That’s like, what, a solid B? A B plus even?”

When that didn’t work, she slid her hand down to Eve’s and ran the pad of her thumb over the soft skin before giving another, more tender squeeze. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you when I asked that. If you want, I can help you review for the next test?” She put on a smile and tried to sound optimistic, mind running a mile a minute as she tried to figure out what to say next.

“There’s always room for improvement!” Lilith said, stealing one of Paula’s lines in the rare occasion that Joan flubbed a test or lost a game. She’d have to thank her for that later.

Meanwhile, Eve hoped that Lilith wouldn’t be able to feel her pulse through her wrist, the pink hue her face took on having faded, only to return with a vengeance when Lilith opted to hold her hand, the way the girl soothed her thumb over her knuckles nearly sending her into cardiac arrest, the momentary squeeze stealing the air from her lungs and running for the hills, if only for an instant before she mustered up enough breath to speak.

“You’d really do that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Are you kidding me?” Lilith grinned, incredulous. “Of course I’d help! With a score like that, there isn’t even all that much to do.”

The way Eve looked at her when she said those words, amber eyes adoring and brimming with marvel as it were, Lilith couldn’t bring herself to look away, it was like she was lost and slowly, willingly sinking into the entrancing, honeyed hue that was Eve’s eyes.

She could hardly handle being the subject of the girl’s gratitude-filled gaze, her heart clenching tenderly when Eve smiled at her, because of her, soft and sweet, dimples appearing on her rosy cheeks, unaware of the near-painful longing that welled up in Lilith’s chest.

In the split second silence, Lilith wondered whether it was for better or worse that Eve didn’t know how her heart ached whenever she made her smile, knowing that Eve, kind person she was, would never want to hurt her, even in the most gentle way, the soft tightening of her chest Lilith herself would sometimes even long for.

“Anyway,” Eve said, breaking the quiet that had settled over them, “I really can’t join the art club, so that’s out of the question. My drawing skills are literally non-existent.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! The best I can do are stick figures, bee doodles, and really loopy flowers.”

They scratched that off the list and began roaming around, Eve unsure of what clubs were a hard no for her but wanting to narrow down the list further.

“Oh, definitely no debate club.” She said out the moment she saw their stand, stopwatch, hardwood podium and all.

“Okay, but why?” Lilith took the list from her and crossed it out, skimming over it in search of clubs the both of them could enjoy.

“They’re sca-“

“Lilith!”

A girl with shoulder-length black hair swishing slightly with every step came up from behind them and hugged Lilith with a fierce grip, nearly making the both of them fall to the ground in the process, her long-suffering partner, local gossip girl, Margaret, merely trailing a few paces behind her, not wanting to be associated with the girl who managed to make at least eleven heads turn towards them.

“Joan told me everything this morning. Where is she?” The girl let go, swinging her head around frantically and craning her neck in an exaggerated search. “I’m gonna beat this chick’s ass if it’s the last thing I do!”

Finally, Margaret came closer and tried to put a stop to whatever was unfolding. “Swearing is against the rules, Julia. I can report you for that.”

The girl, Julia, apparently, turned to look at her partner, joyful demeanor fading in an instant.

“So is make-up and cheating, but you don’t see me yapping about it, do you?”

That shut Margaret up effectively, cheeks probably red with indignance under her foundation.

“Anyway, where is the bitch? I’ll-“

“Okay, before you finish that sentence, I think you should know that the girl you’re calling a bitch is right beside me. Right now.” Lilith said, grabbing her by the shoulders and making her face Eve.

Julia looked at her.

She looked at Julia.

“Hi.”

“Oh shit. Hey…” They stared at each other, a split second of tension filled silence passing between them. “I’m not taking back what I said though, you’re a bitch. I mean seriously, I get not being gay but did you have to- OW!”

Lilith’s elbow met Julia’s rib, harshly.

“When did Joan say all this?” She sighed. The last thing she needed right now was someone making Eve feel worse after everything that happened today, especially now that they were just starting to patch things up and talk free of any awkwardness.

“I already told you, she said all that this morning. We sat next to each other in CLE and passed notes while Sister Jane wasn’t looking.”

“Julia, you’re fucking nuts and I love you for that,” Lilith sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “but now is really not the time. Go ask Joan or Paula to catch you up on things, they should be around here somewhere. We’re busy looking for a club. Until they tell you what happened earlier, you can not call Eve anything except Eve.”

“Oh wow, okay. I must have missed something big if you’re defending the girl who made you sob so hard, you almost-”

“The details aren’t important! Besides, you weren’t there, so you don’t know what happened.”

Julia raised a brow at the girl, shutting up to help her save face, but going in for one last tease before she went looking for Paula to see the whole picture, “I literally just said that Joan told me everything, but okay.” She put her hands up in a sort of surrender. “Say what you want, babe! I’ll get the truth out of you the next time we get wasted anyways, so yeah!” And with that she turned to leave before, rather impulsively, Eve called out to her.

“What club did you join?”

“You’re really gonna look at me and not immediately assume I’m in the softball club? You offend me, Eve. I mean really! You know what they say about softball. It’s the sport of my people!”

The blonde merely stood in silence, absolutely dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing like a fish yet not a syllable leaving her lips.

Julia cackled, tossing her head back and ruffling her soft curls. “Oh God, she doesn’t know?” She asked Lilith, her eyebrows raised so far up that no one watching would be surprised if they receded even further back to join the hair on her head. “You really know how to pick ‘em, sweetheart!”

She walked away, giggling and giving them – well, more Lilith than Eve – finger guns all the while.

“Okay, I’m just going to ask. What was that whole thing about softball about?”

At this, Lilith herself couldn’t help but laugh. “Basically, it’s kinda a stereotype that, and this isn’t a thing we made up, lesbians play softball.”

Eve’s look of confusion turned to bafflement turned to a somewhat exasperated and incredulous amusement. “That makes no sense, but I’m going with it anyway. How did that even start?”

“I actually don’t know, but we went along with it too, cause why the fuck not? You know?” Lilith shrugged and they continued walking again. “There’s probably a bit of truth in there somewhere. It’s how Joan and Paula got together, so there’s that! And Julia has an ex that used to be a member.”

Eve took the list back from her while she was distracted, eyes quickly scanning over it to see if Lilith had crossed anything out while it was in her possession. “I’m assuming there’s a story behind that?”

“Yup!” She snatched the flier away from Eve once more, holding it high above her head when the girl tried to get it again. “But not one you get to hear. Not yet.”

She huffed at that. Eve, despite already standing on her toes, the four inch height difference between them made it so she couldn’t get the list back from Lilith.

“Okay then. But one last question.”

“Yeah?”

“Sweetheart? Babe?” Eve asked, a twinge of jealousy in her. Granted, she had no right to be, at least in her own mind she didn’t. She wasn’t even supposed to be feeling anything for Lilith other than disdain, but what could she do? Her only consolation was the fact she’d yet to act on said emotions.

Technically.

Eve tried to justify what she could, mind jumping from hoop to hoop, connecting loose strings, drawing lines between dots that were barely there. Earlier wasn’t anything akin to love. It was just a friend taking care of a friend.

Yes.

“Oh, that? Yeah, Julia calls everyone that, really. It’s nothing personal.” Lilith felt delusional. Were her feeling for Eve so strong as to warp her mind and affect her hearing, going so far as to imagine Eve’s voice with a pang of envy. “If you get on her good side, she’ll probably call you something too. Not what she called you earlier, though.”

A wave of relief washed over the blonde… followed immediately by guilt for feeling said relief.

It was nothing another round of mental gymnastics couldn’t fix.

The only reason she was relieved was because Lilith not being in a relationship meant that she wasn’t beyond saving.

Of course.

“I hope so, too.” Eve said. They turned to walk down a different aisle, about forty-five minutes left for them to find and join a club.

The pair strolled between stalls leisurely, narrowing down the list bit by bit, encircling the ones they had taken a particular liking to, chatting about clubs.

“The gardening club seems cool.” Lilith suggested, looking at their small stall decorated with small, origami flowers, the girls who ran it not having the heart to pluck what they had grown just yet. “It’s outside so I get some fresh air and it’s no sport, so you won’t have to strain yourself like you did in gym. Whaddya think of it?”

She looked over at Eve, only to see her frowning, a mix of disappointment and contempt in her eyes.

“I’d love to join, but I’m not allowed. My mom doesn’t like me gardening.” Her frown turned into a pout, eyes growing glassy with frustrated tears that had been building up for nearly a decade now. “She made me stop when I was eight because my hands were getting rough…”

“Use me.”

“What?”

“Use me as an excuse. Tell her I made you join it.”

Her words were temptation, the apple offered to Eve by the serpent.

Lilith held the sign-up slip and the red pen out to her, the folded paper an open invitation to rebellion. She wouldn’t force Eve, however, wanting this decision, this sin, to be hers and hers alone, the girl refusing to even write her own name on the paper.

Eve could feel the fifth commandment ringing in her ears, as the Eve before her knew she was defying god.

“Honour thy father and thy mother.”

And yet, Eve could also feel the dirt between her fingers and under her nails, the weight of a trowel in her hands, the sun beating on her back through the gaps in the leaves of their oak tree, the scent of the earth and the flowers carried by the breeze.

The nagging voice in her ears faded and morphed to the gentle buzzing of the bees and the high-pitched chirping of the birds.

Eve took the form and filled it up.

Eve took the apple and ate of it.

______________________________

Taglist: @anon-nom-nom95 @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @i-wanna-be-a-rock @extrabitterbrain @gaypeaches @phillyinthebathroom @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @pirateofblood

[desiraypark]

The Weight (Pt. I)

Clyde x Sherri (Non-Linear Series) This entry is in response to @aloneandsleepless​‘ prompt request! The message reads: Hey Desi darling! Can we have a little drama with Clyde and Sherri? Requesting "being physically/emotionally vulnerable" from the Non Sexual Forms of Intimacy list! You're so incredibly creative, I'm sure you'll come up with something amazing! ❤️ First of all, thank you *cries*. Second, I hope this meets your expectations! :) Content: Angsty? | Sadness/depression (denial of depression); impostor’s syndrome; ageism (imposed on self because it’s imposed by society, tbh lol); couple’s spat; spouse approaching the other but the appropriateness and effectiveness of the method might be debatable.  A lil’ bit o’sap. Word Count: 2,402

“The llllittle...boy licks to...likes to b...ah...ck...” “Vroom, vroom...!” Sherri looked away from her pan and glanced in the dining room at the children. Chris’ face was inches away from their homework, and Sid had turned the dining table into a freeway for their toy car. 

“What are your ‘a’ sounds?” Sherri asked.  “Ah, ah...” Chris said.  “And the other one?”  “Ay...” “Did you try the other sound?”  Chris looked back down at the worksheet. “B-ay-kuh...bake...” Sherri looked back at the pan. “Good job. Start it from the beginning.” “The little boy likes to bake...” “Vroooooooooom...” “...he licks...likes...” “Sid?” Sherri called. “Yes?” “Can you play quietly so Chris can concentrate?” “Yes, Mommy. Sorry.” “It’s alright. Thank you.” Sid turned the vocal engine off and drove the car in silence. Suddenly, there was a rumble at the front door. The lock turned and the kids hopped up from the table and ran through the living room. 

“Daddy!” they shouted.

Clyde opened the door and scooped both of the little ones up in his arms. “Arrrgh!” he growled, holding them up.  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked. He planted kisses on both of their foreheads and put them back down.  “Ms. Daniels gave us homework today!” Chris exclaimed. “Oh yeah?” “Long sentences!”  “Well, alright, my lil’ Einstein,” Clyde said.  The trio made their way into the dining room, but the kids sat back at the table. Clyde walked straight for the kitchen and Sherri gave him her cheek to kiss. “Mmm...” he hummed. “Those lips taste as good?” Sherri smirked and faced Clyde so he could give her a peck on the lips. Then another. And another. “Eww!!!” the children said. “Eww?!” Clyde mocked them. “What y’all mean eww?” Sherri and the kids laughed. Then, Clyde rested his hands on Sherri’s protruding belly. He gave it a rub. “Now what you got to say about it, Littlest One?” “It said, please don’t keep mommy up tonight...” Sherri mumbled.  “Well, I can’t make no promises on that...” Clyde whispered in her ear, before giving the lobe a nibble.  “Leave my kitchen, Clyde,” Sherri said giggling. Clyde gave her butt a tap and walked into the dining room. “What’s this homework about?” he asked, sitting beside Chris.  “Different stuff,” the oldest responded. Clyde adjusted his glasses by the hinge and looked over the homework--a sheet full of short sentences. 

“You or Mommy are supposed to draw lines under the stuff I said wrong,” Chris added. “Is that so?” Clyde read the instructions and realized that either he or Sherri had to underline any words Chris had gotten wrong, or didn’t self-correct. So far, only the word “fluffy” had a line under it. Clyde smiled at the sight. “Underline bake, Baby.” Sherri said. Clyde searched the table and noticed the red ink pen resting against the table’s centerpiece. He underlined “bake”.  “Hey, Babygirl...?” Clyde called over his shoulder. “Mm-hmm?” Sherri responded. “A man came into the restaurant this afternoon. He started a non-profit education center. Supposed to help kids with all kinds of needs. I uh...I got his card for you.” Sherri froze for a second, then kept cooking. “For what?” “He’s lookin’ for people to join his team. It’s very new. He wants people from different backgrounds helpin’ him out...”  Sherri didn’t say anything. She turned off the stove and reached into the cupboard for plates. “Okay.” _____________________ Later “What’s this you were telling me about? About this man?” Sherri asked, walking into the bedroom. 

Clyde was already in bed with a book. Sherri grabbed a bottle of cocoa butter lotion from her dresser and sat on the bed.  “He started a non-profit company for kids with special needs. Behavioral, academic. Kids with problems at home, anything. He said he wanted to hire a few reading tutors...” Sherri began to rub the lotion on her belly. The circular motions soothing her emotionally, as well as physically. “He said you didn’t need a formal education. It wouldn’t pay much now, but it would be a great experience.” Sherri let out a wry laugh. “So, you told a stranger in a restaurant that your dropout wife was looking for a low-paying job?” Clyde stared at the back of Sherri’s head with furrowed brows. “No, I said I would tell my wife about it, and see if she’s interested.” Sherri closed the lotion’s cap and put it back on her dresser. “Well, thank you for thinking of me, Baby. But I’m good...”  She yanked back her covers and climbed into the bed.  “But are you, though, Baby?” Clyde asked. Sherri was just about to turn on her side before she glared back at him.  “What do you mean?” she asked. “It ain’t no secret that you regret not settin’ out to be in education, Babygirl. I thought this would be a good way to get you back on track. But I guess I was wrong,” Clyde said. Sherri turned on her side and laid down. “Yeah, you were. I don’t need you job huntin’ for me.” Clyde looked down at his book. He tried to keep reading, but Sherri’s response was eating away at him. He took in a deep breath. “So, you just wanna be a receptionist for the rest of your life, Sherri?” He didn’t have to see her face to know what it looked like. Slowly, Sherri turned on her back and sat completely up.  “What is this about, Clyde? Are you ashamed of me all of a sudden?” she asked. Clyde huffed, then closed his book.  “No...” he answered. “But I know when you’re feeling sad, Baby. And I know you’ve been real sad these last few months.” “First of all, don’t tell me when I’m sad. I’m not sad. I’m not depressed or any of that. And even if I was, that doesn’t have shit to do with my job...”

“Sherri...” Clyde said patiently. “You can deny it all you want to. But you know and I know that you ain’t happy where you are.” “I am happy!” Sherri snapped. “What are you talking about?!” “You like your job, Sherri. But you ain’t happy,” Clyde continued on. “You regret not finishin’ school, Baby. It’s all over your face. You think you’re hidin’ it from me, but you’re not. You never have. And denyin’ it hasn’t made it better.” Sherri scoffed. “Please, Clyde. You don’t know what I’m hidin’ and what I’m not. Whatever the case may be, I’m halfway through my life, now. I’m damn near 40 years old, I’ve got two kids--almost got three. I’ve got to run around after three kids--” “Stop usin’ our kids as a crutch, Sherri.” Sherri’s eyebrows lifted. She was speechless. Clyde wasn’t as mild and meek as people assumed he was, but he’d never drilled into anyone like this before. Especially Sherri. He had the patience of a saint, and Sherri could tell that the patience had suddenly started wearing thin. But so was hers. “You my therapist now, Clyde?” Clyde drew in a deep breath. “No, I’m not. But I am your husband. And I know you better than I know the back of my own hand.”

“And look here. I don’t appreciate you sittin’ up here talkin’ like you the only one takin’ care of our kids...” “That’s not what I said. And it’s not what I meant, either,” Sherri responded.

“Whatever you meant, there ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you from goin’ back to school, but you. I tell you about a potential job in your field, and you up in here actin’ like I stole somethin’ from you,” Clyde fussed. “I just don’t understand where this is comin’ from. Our life is just fine right now. Since when did you start feelin’ like it wasn’t good enough? Suddenly it’s so bad that you need to go job scoutin’ for me?” “Ain’t nobody say all that, Sherri. Yes, our life is just fine. It’s real nice. But you ain’t no “just fine” kinda girl. You ain’t never been,” Clyde said. 

“Everything about you is excellent, but when it comes to stuff like this--your dream, you start actin’ real cowardly.” 

Sherri stared at Clyde and huffed.  “Look. Whatever the case, Clyde. I don’t need you bein’ my reference. I don’t need you recommendin’ jobs for me. You worry about what you’ve got goin’ on, and I’ll take care of what I’ve got goin’ on.” Clyde nodded. “Alright.” He put his book on the nightstand and took off his bionic arm. He put the arm on his dresser, climbed back in bed, and turned off the lamp on his nightstand. Then, he slid down and pulled the covers over him.

“You ain’t got to worry about me sayin’ another thing,” he added. “Gon’ and pass that impostor’s syndrome down to our baby.” Sherri didn’t give his statement a chance to marinate in the air. 

“I think you should sleep on the couch,” she said without hesitation, or a even a thought. And Clyde didn’t argue. He climbed out of the bed, grabbed his pillows, and walked out of the room with them. He dug through the linen closet for a blanket, and curled into a ball on the little chaise of their sectional.  ____________________ The Next Day As she did every weekday morning, Sherri got up at 4:30AM. The scent of oatmeal soap still strong from last night’s shower, she gave herself a quick wipe down at the sink, then got Sid up. She helped Sid take care of their personal needs, and got them dressed. Per usual, mother and future middle child got a quick bite and made their way to the Busy Bees Daycare. Every week day, Sherri oversaw the front desk of the daycare and helped to keep an eye on all of the children, including her own.  Every week day--even on Mondays when he didn’t work--Clyde woke up and got Chris and himself ready. They too, sat at the table for a quick bite--cereal, usually. Then, Clyde would walk Chris to school. Today was a work day, so he hung out at home for about for about 45 minutes before making the seamless fifteen (or twenty, depending on his mood) minute drive to Strafford’s Kitchen. Today was definitely a “twenty minute drive to work” kind of day. Sherri always got off at 2 o’clock. Her and Sid would head home and hang out until it was time to pick Chris up. They’d walk to the school, chat with Chris’ teacher, and make their way back home to start homework and dinner. When Clyde was off, he would start dinner while Sherri and Sid walked to get the eldest Logan child.  Sherri had spent her day snatching every chance at mental solitude she could find. Clyde didn’t know what he was talking about. She was happy at Busy Bees. Had been for seven years. And more importantly, it was too late for her to consider going back to school. Especially with the cost of tuition nowadays.

“What’s on your mind, Sherri Pie?” Mrs. Barbara asked. She’d snatched Sherri out of a daze. “Hmm?” Sherri asked. “Everything alright?”  Sherri forced a smile and nodded. “Yes, everything is fine.”  Mrs. Barbara raised an eyebrow at her and Sherri laughed. “Me and the husband had a little spat, that’s all.” “Hmm,” Mrs. Barbara said with a nod. “And you know what Mrs. Barbara?” Sherri asked. “What?” she responded. She peeped into the commons space to get a look at the children, then back at Sherri.  “I just might owe that man an apology.” Mrs. Barbara laughed. “Well, wives can be wrong sometimes, believe it or not. What was the argument about? If you don’t mind me asking...” Sherri shook her head and rolled her eyes--at herself, of course. “He started talking to me about going back to school, and things like that...and I got really defensive, I think.” “You think?” Sherri sighed again. “I did.” “Do you want to go back to school?” Mrs. Barbara asked. “It would be nice, but it would just be too much right now. With Sid and Chris, and this one...” “Well, I’m gonna stop you right there, Sherri,” Mrs. Barbara said. “It would be nice sounds like you want to go...” “...yeah, well...” “You’ve got us. You’ve got your neighbors. And from what I know of Clyde, that man would put the world on his shoulders for you if he could. You’ve got more support than a lot of people in this world...” Sherri chuckled to herself. “Clyde said something along those lines.” “Well...” Mrs. Barbara said, peeping into the commons space again. “If Clyde and I mirror each other’s thoughts, then he must be right.” Mrs. Barbara winked and walked back into the commons area. Sherri just smiled to herself.  ____________________ Sherri and Sid returned home at about 2:30. “Can I watch TV, Mommy?” Sid asked. “Sure, baby,” Sherri said. She put her purse on the coffee table, turned on the television and flipped straight to PBS. Then, she made her way to the kitchen to hang her keys on the HOME hook. A familiar greeting card was sitting on the counter. On the front, it said “For You, Just Because. Blood rushed to Sherri’s cheeks, and she opened the card.

Her handwriting was on the right side, and read: Honeybunch, I love you and I appreciate you. Thank you for loving me and taking care of me. I know you’re feeling down now, but I want you to know that I’m always here, and I want to take care of you just as much as you do me. Love You, Sherri New handwriting was on the left side of it: 10/12/2027 Babygirl, I love you with ever fiber of my being. And I’ll never stop taking care you. No matter how much you take on, be it a little or a lot, I’m always going to carry it all with you. I just want you to be happy. And I want you to believe in yourself just as much as I do. If not more.  Love You More, Honeybunch Butterflies fluttered in Sherri’s belly. She gave her little bump a rub and read Clyde’s message one more time before closing the card. Then, she walked into the living room, joined Sid on the sofa, and pulled the raven-haired middle child into her arms.  “Goodness, I can’t believe Arthur is still comin’ on...” she said.  ____________________ TAG LIST @aloneandsleepless​​ @direnightshade​​ @finn-ray-nal-beads​​ @a-true-janian-reply​​ @thegreenmatt​​ @sister-winter73​​ @loewsy55​​​ @mariesackler​​​ @clydes-hole​​​ @sydneyssmut​​​ @kirah36​​ @lovelyyandtired​ @morby​ @tsarinastorm​ @clydes-hole​ Tag List request post