#even kettle is an inch taller

[eggbland]

In my head Starling is like 4'8 tops, and that's the real reason she was in such a bad mood during Assassin's Quest. Watching 6 foot tall, modelesque royalty parading around the wilderness probably got old really quick.

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 early morning rookanis enjoy 🪶

Lucanis leaves the pantry to see Rook stumbling towards the stove, delightfully disheveled. Hair tumbling from her head in a middle part instead of swooped across her skull and down one shoulder, shirt umbuttoned lower than he dares to look.

Spite still points out the green and purple fabric of her breastband.

"Good morning." She jumps, suddenly, only barely keeps from spraining her ankle.

"Where did you come from?"

Lucanis points his thumb over his shoulder.

"The pantry. Like every morning." Rook huffs, runs both hands up her face and lightly pulls at the roots of her curls. "Short night?"

"My night was long enough," she starts, moving out of his way and leaning against the worktop, watching him light the fire in the oven. "Then I had the weirdest dream in a minute, right before waking up. Whatever rest I got - ruined."

"Want to talk about it? It'll take a while for the water to boil."

Rook rubs at her eyes.

"Dreamt Emmrich made me partake in some Fade magic or whatever but it backfired and I came out tall and skinny, but really disproportionate."

Came back wrong. Smells not right. Dry potsoil. Old, dry potsoil.

"Would.. would you not prefer to be tall and skinny?" Lucanis himself could surely do with a few more inches in the legs, on his bad days.

It dawns on him an instant too late, the way his question sounds, even to his own ears. But she's not offended. Far from it, actually.

"Are you kidding? Absolutely not. Have you seen my thighs?" Rook stands back up straight and cocks her hip. The high Crow boots and tight pants hug her curves enticingly. "Luscious, but spacially demanding."

A pause, as he crushes some coffee beans in a mortar. If he remembers his labels correctly, these beans will have a hint of chocolate flavor in them.

"Besides, people never think it's the short, fat elf who'll kill them." Lucanis snorts at that.

He pretends not to notice the way Rook's eyes linger on his forearm, the popping veins and the shifting muscles.

"Would you prefer to be taller?" Rook asks after a while.

"Sometimes. Though less because of the actual height and more because of the jokes." The noise out of her is knowing, familiar.

"Head taller than a cheese wheel." A phrase they both must have heard more times than they could care to count, judging by the familiarity in the way she quotes it. She moves away from the cooking corner, toward the cupboard around the stairs.

"How did you get into coffee?" She asks it as though it's a story she knows, and knows it well. So, as per usual, he deflects.

"How does anyone get into coffee? I imagine you told someone you were tired and they handed you a cup." Lucanis pauses, as he transfers the ground beans into a filterrag and secures it over the pot. "Only that it made you more tired."

She laughs, wiping out the two cups she chose with a dishrag.

"Accurate. Though the way you speak about coffee, it sounds like more of a revelation."

11 cups, Rook. Last night. ELEVEN. WE NEVER SLEEP AGAIN. STAY SUBDUED. STAY AWAKE. ALL THE SHITS.

"Our barista bought samples of all beans available in Treviso. Had me try them to find Caterina's favorite. I was fourteen. Didn't sleep for five days."

They're lucky she chose tin mugs. Her jaw drops, and so does her grip on the mug, and it falls loudly onto the tiles.

"One: you have a barista at home?!"

"Not anymore. Last I was there, I made my own coffee. The other staff don't get it right."

"The other staff?"

Lucanis shrugs, as he takes the kettle with an oven cloth and pours the hot water over the filterrag in slow, deliberate circles. The few memories he has of his parents, they waited on him hand and foot. After they were killed, and he went to live with Caterina, her staff.

"I'm sure your house has staff."

"Viago's the Talon, Lucanis. The Fledglings are his staff."

True point, he thinks. Viago has a tighter grip, more control over his underlings. So they don't get ideas. The reason he's constantly peddling with orphanages and whorehouses is that the moment a Fledgling even breathes wrong in his presence, they disappear. Myself is my true king, and he makes sure everyone knows it like the know the sun also rises.

"Two," she continues, either oblivious to secondary string of thought that always seems to run in the background no matter what or electing to ignore it. She has picked up the fallen mug and wipes it off yet again. "You drank every sample in one night?"

"The best beans at the time were from the Montilyet vineyard, surprisingly, crushed in a coarse herb mortar, run through alchemy water that's just about to boil. Press it onto this tiny metal sieve and pour the water as fast as you can without getting the grounds in your cup." During his youth, he drank that prep so often he can no longer think of it without recoiling. "I got so much done that week. And have no recollection of any of it."

She laughs. Holds both mugs as Lucanis transfers the ready coffee into their mugs. She already put creamer and a sugarstick into one of them.

"Sounds like you to remember the coffee and nothing else." The sugarstick serves as a spoon as she mixes creamer, coffee and the sugar falling off of it. "What's in this one?"

"If you believe me, the beans in Neve's pellet coffee before they abuse them beyond recognition. It's supposed to have a chocolate aftertaste."

She raises her eyebrows at him, lifting the cup to her lips.

"You think you can save that hogwash?" The expression on her face tells him there's no saving this. "Maybe the beans just suck."

"What can I say?" He takes a sip. Oh, dear. "If anyone can, it's me."

"Did Caterina like any of the samples you tried?"

"Of course not. She prefers tea over coffee. It was a lost cause."

Rook laughs so hard and sudden she inhales her swill. Spite laughs at the way it drips out of her nose.

🪶

i know bioware fixed that bug but idc if i saw it happen and they patched it its a dream now i dont make the rules

i still don't know how coffee works but I love some tevinter slander lmao

I'm trying to break out of the chronologic thing I had going with solavellan and just write what I feel like writing and its really cathartic ngl [also the way I finished my thesis and went straight back to creative writing for the first time in like FIVE YEARS lmao]

@lanafofana if you want me to tag u in ONLY what we talked about you gotta let me know lmao

@vespaer77 i forgot to tag u in my rookanis stuff and tbf I don't know if you WANT to be tagged in that but here u go haha

[~rina]

[weaper-reaper]

More König fluff and smut

I do apologize that I’ve been away for literally 5ever… sorry for all the fics I’ve abandoned there is a slight chance they still will be released. Until then, thank you always for the support. Here’s a treat for staying loyal and still RBlogging eventuality <3

CW: Fluff, Smut, Fingering, Creamies, KINDA SAFE SEX (literally unheard of), uhh this is KönigxYou btw, apparently ive been tagging my stuff wrong by writing xreader so forgive me ig, I’ve been craving intimacy and fluff irl so here you go, not proofed

Bzzzt… Bzzzt… Bzzzt

Your phone rattled the nightstand, clattering together the jewelry and pens that were haphazardly littered atop the smooth wood. With an annoyed grunt you twisted over to yank it from the cord it was plugged into. The bright screen made your eyes squint in through the darkness, text blurred- you answered it before knowing who was on the other side.

“Hey, uh.. hi.”

“König?” You asked out, the scratchy voice haunting and all too familiar.

There was an awkward staticky laugh through the speaker, and you sat up as your consciousness came rushing back.

“Yeah. Sorry it’s so late.” He apologized, and you pulled the phone from your ear to glance at the time. Just past midnight. “I just got back.”

His demeanor seemed to brighten as you put the cool glass back to your cheek. “Welcome back.”

“Listen.. I'm outside.”

Your heart stuttered, and you glanced to the window of your little studio, the moon sent streaks over the lonely little place you called home and a light rap sounded from the front door.

“Sorry I didn’t text,” He continued, voice stretched thin from exhaustion or travel. “I have something fo- actually, can you come to the door?”

You whipped your head around the room and your eyes landed on your bathrobe cast out lazily across the back of your chair. You snatched it up before responding.

“Yeah, yeah uhm.. hold on.”

“Okay.” He breathed, a hint of a smile on the end of his voice.

Throwing on the robe you rounded the corner from your bedroom, bare feet slapping against the tile on the floor. Without even bothering to peek through the looking hole, you unchained and unlocked the door, swinging it open wide.

König stood taller then you remembered, cast in shadows from the light in the hall. The dark seemed to loom just around him, hovering but an inch above his clothes. You met his cool gaze first, his eyes crinkled and he smiled under his hoodie.

He let the phone at the side of his face fall, and you pulled yours away then too.

“Hello.” He greeted. Smiley and with much more energy than you could’ve mustered this late at night.

“Hi.” You breathed back.

It had only been a few weeks since you last talked, but with him here at your door now- a strange look in his eye- it made it feel like months. The way he had left things made a bitter feeling resonate through your chest and your eyes quickly cast to anything but him. You cleared your throat and stepped to the side, inviting him in.

He had his bags with him, one sandy duffle bag and another giant backpack. You eyed them curiously as he dropped them, quickly answering before you could find the words to ask.

“Mission went a lot smoother than we thought, and my stuff is still in storage.. so.” He shrugged his outer jacket off and drops of water rolled down the nylon.

“It’s raining?” You asked, turning for the kitchen eyes cast over to the window again. Sure enough droplets you hadn’t noticed before stuck thick to the glass pane. “Some tea?” You offered, already putting the kettle on.

“Thank you.” He nodded, finding a spot against the cold counter to lean on.

He cleared his throat as you turned back to him, hands ruffling around in his pockets. He pulled a thin orange envelope from one of his cargo pockets and handed it flat out. You took it gingerly, suddenly too aware of the lack of clothing you sported. You tightened the robe before peeling open the packaging and pulling out the contents.

They were photos, mostly black and white, and definitely weathered. Some water spots bled around the corners making the ink smear and stick. You flipped through them excitedly.

“Oh!” You cooed, they were mostly photos of tall cliff sides, overgrown fields, the occasional tree or strange looking rock formation. You peeled apart one of them, it was a selfie- or an attempt at one. König stood infront of a lake, a few naked men stood behind him, one bent over and mooned the photo.

You laughed and glanced back over at König, a sweet smile was plastered over his face. You caught his eyes and a moment passed discreetly between you.

You had been so caught up in your own head since he left, the lack of communication drawing your feelings further and further from your own chest and you had worried he’d thought your relationship too difficult to handle while he was away. It’s not like he hadn’t been away before, but something made him seem even more distant now. He hadn't said goodbye to you this last time, just vanished. After a week you accepted the possibility of him ghosting you. But now, as his dark figure stuck out against the bright decor of your tiny kitchen, those feelings came flooding back.

The kettle squealed before you could finish your thoughts. Clearing your throat you gently set the pack of photos down onto the counter and poured out the dark liquid into two deep mugs. You handed him his, and his fingers brushed yours as he took it.

You could feel your chest heat up under the thick robe.

“Let me go change.” You whispered, breaking the silence. He set his mug down in response, and followed you to your room.

You glanced back over your shoulder at him as you passed through your doorway and blew a laugh down your nose, “Miss me that much, huh?” You joked that hidden hope, reaching for an old overnight shirt.

His arm stretched over yours suddenly grabbing the fabric with his chest at your back. He had moved so quickly you didn’t even have the chance to hear him take a step.

“I did.” He whispered softly, breath warm as it fanned over the cold shell of your ear.

You could swear your heart stopped, but then his lips were on yours in a flurry. He spun you and your robe had come undone with the movement, back now flush against the closet door. It’s hinges rattled as he all but threw you against it.

His lips were soft, and your heart raced.

It was the wetness then at your cheeks that stilled him. Slowly he peeled off of you and a hand rose to cup your jaw.

“Wh-why are you crying?”

You hadn’t noticed you were until he said something, but as your eyes met again a sob pulled from your lungs. He wasted no time in wrapping you up into his arms, pulling the two of you back onto the still warmth of your bed. You curled into him as your breathing slowed.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, raising the back of your palm to the corner of your eyes. “I just..” you started, quickly realizing it took so much energy to straighten out your thoughts.

“You left so suddenly, without saying anything.”

His brows grew tight, and his eyes cast downward heavily. “I know, I’m sorry.” Even he seemed choked back a bit.

“We weren’t allowed to tell anyone.” He continued, pulling you closer until you were practically laying on his chest. “I should’ve-“

“No it’s okay,” you interrupted, finding your voice again and apologizing, planting a palm on his chest. “It’s on me, I should’ve assumed I know your job is stressful I just..”

You drew your eyes up to his and let them cast over every feature of his face.

“I just missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Significantly more gently this time, he craned his neck down to meet your lips. The kiss was sweeter, softer and something unspoken drew under the both of you, sweeping the two of you up into your own perfect world. Slowly he twisted, and let a hand drag down your neck through the center of your chest before settling on your hip. The rough calluses on his fingertips drew shapes over your soft skin and you couldn’t help but fall victim to the shiver that raked through your body.

There was a tug at the corner of his lips as he smirked, pleased with your reactions. He whispered lowly again, voice thick and laid with his heavy accent. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, afraid of the noises you’d make if you opened your mouth.

With a grace a giant like him should never possess, he dipped his hand under the part in your robe and cupped at your core. A thick finger slid down your part, and then back up blossoming you open with ease. The pad of his middle finger brushed against the hood of your clit and he swallowed the gasp that pulled its way out of your lungs.

You pulled from his lips as he prodded your opening with two fingers, the tips circled your entrance and involuntarily your hips buckled upwards.

“There you go,” He sighed, slipping further and further until his knuckles were pressed up as far as they would go. You felt yourself clench around as he pulled out, willing them to stay.

He slid them in again, and curled them deliciously to drag down your walls with each tug. Your voice betrayed you and a groan escaped, he mimicked your noises, his own breath growing ragged and heavy. His hand worked away at your cunt, and his quickly growing hardness became evident at your side. He was rutting against you in time with his fingers.

You mewled into his lips and slid the arm draped around his neck down his front until your palm coaxed up the forceful protrusion against his zipper. His pace stuttered and your confidence grew with each breathy moan he released.

Delicately, he pulled his fingers from your heat and quickly tugged away at the fastening of his pants, a dark spot crowned his bulge when you looked down. With a new heat at his cheeks and ears, he replaced your hand for you atop his boxers and you immediately squeezed. A moan choked up in his throat and he buried his face into you neck and chest, littering the crevice with sloppy kisses.

Perhaps a little prematurely, you slipped that hand into his pants and against the heat of his skin, pulling his member out and taught between you. He hesitated a moment before returning a thumb to your clit.

He rose again after a moment to smother you into another heavy make out session before rolling over above you. His thick cock weaped against your hip, and an insane amount of pre pooled over the creases of your skin. The air seemed hot and unbearable as you shifted out of your robe completely. Pulling away for a moment, König also shimmied out of his clothes and returned to you in a flash, sticky bodies melting back into eachother.

Be it because of the well prepped lubrication, or simply because the stars were all in alignment, when he returned slotted perfectly against you, the tip of his cock nudged directly into the ring of your pussy.

You both stilled and he let out a pained sounding grunt.

“Fuck..” you paused. “Uhm, are you okay?” You blabbered out lamely.

“Yeah.” He responded almost instantly, a hesitant kind of shame hung over him. “It’s just, It’s been a long time. I don’t know if..”

“It’s okay,” you took over quickly, pulling your knees up and opening your legs enough to where he slid in just that much more.

“Schhhheisse..” he drawled out, “you’re too warm.”

You huffed a short laugh and reached down to circle at your own clit, letting your body adjust to the stretch of him. Tingles rushed through your body and your mind quickly became fuzzy. With a deep breath he let his fingers replace yours and he pulled away to push back in deeper than before.

Letting your head fall back, you let him work himself into you. Pulling his hips away before using his weight to shove it all back into you again, König built up a steady rhythm and your mind and body grew hot.

His arms slipped under your back, and he pulled you closer to him, each wet smack echoing through the empty room. The walls of your insides burned, and that familiar tightness below your belly made itself known.

“Ahh, ah.. fuck.” You whined, completely caged beneath him. “I can’t.. I think I’m close.” You stumbled out, clawing at the backs of his massive arms.

“I know.” He grunted, “Got-damn you’re getting so tight.”

Part of you wanted to apologize for his struggle, but a bigger part of you wanted to clench up your core tighter. The latter won and soon König thrusts grew shorter and sloppier. His moans equalling his unsteadiness. You pushed your hips up to meet him, grinding down your front to his pelvis, begging for more friction.

The head of him slammed suddenly against your cervix as he pulled your legs up, latching purchase behind your knees to effectively bend you in half. You shouted in surprise at the new angle, everything quickly becoming too much.

“Where can I-?” He began and you answered before he finished.

“Inside!” You shouted, then cried as his thrusts became rougher- more demanding. “Inside, I.. IUD. It’s safe.”

You couldn’t help but grind your hips up into him, a desperate attempt to hurry your aching clit along. His lips found yours again in a frenzied haze, and you came undone almost instantly. Your core pulsed and you cried out from under him as the waves shook through every inch of your body.

König followed with two more strong thrusts, his hips stuttering and locked within your tightness. You could feel the warmth flow up deep inside of you, and he practically collapsed above you, completely spent.

You both laid a moment together, and his sweet cadence finally broke the silence after your pussy stopped its throbbing. He attempted to pull out, but your cunt gripped him completely.

“Relax.” He almost chuckled. Embarrassment flushed your face as he dragged a soothing hand down your sides, pulling away with a hiss.

“Sorry..” you mumbled.

He cast his eyes back up to you in a flash, and smirked. “Don’t be.”

“Just give me ten, okay?”

You rolled away to cover your face, giggling.

[hopefulromances]

can you do one is shorter and they just plant a soft kiss (or kisses) along the taller's jawline with roy please?

This one's for the short girlies

You stared at Roy, sitting at the kitchen table, nose deep in some mystery novel while you stood. at the stove waiting for your kettle to boil.

"Kettle's boiling," he announced, alerting you to the high pitch squealing you'd been ignoring.

"Fuck, shit, fuck," you growled as you grabbed your oven glove to remove the kettle from the fire.

You placed the tea bags into the kettle to let them steep. Suddenly cold hands were on your waist, causing you to yelp at the intrusion.

"Jesus, Roy, why are your hands so cold?"

"I have poor circulation, you know this," he grumbled, turning you around to face him. He was quite a few inches taller than you, your eyes only made it up to his chin. "You're fucking short, did you know that?"

"Actually, I didn't know that," you told him, bringing your hands up to his neck. "Thanks for letting me know."

He hummed in amusement before kissing you sweetly. HIs beard was just the perfect length to be just scratchy enough without being painful.

"You know you're really distracting when I'm trying to cook," you told him between breaths.

"I have been told I'm distracting before," he chuckled. "And I don't know if making tea qualifies as cooking."

You leaned back looking offended. "Hey, I worked hard on this tea."

"You didn't even hear when it was boiling."

"Well thats besides the point..."

"And those are my tea bags."

You let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh! What's this?" You went up on your toes and placed a kiss on his jaw. "A kiss?" You kissed his jaw again. "Another kiss?"

"You're such a fucking dork." He shook his head and before meeting you in a steely kiss. You giggled into the kiss, knowing that this crotchey, poor circulated, old man was all yours.

[chickensarentcheap]

A little flashback for the Taesme fans

I know some of you are missing them and I am working on things, I promise. In the meantime...

@tragiclyhip @watermeezer @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @mrsmungus

@asirensrage @residentdormouse @kmc1989 @karimac @ninjasawakenedmystar @alisbackalleybbq @bardic-tales (I remember this time! My brain is much, sorry lol)

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Tyler remarks, as she moves to the stove to tend to the boiling kettle. Offering a mug with the tea bag already in it; his hand briefly resting on the small of her back as he places a kiss on her temple. “You were sleeping pretty good when I went on my run.”

Sighing, she sets the mug down on the stovetop and fills it with water. “I probably still would be if your spawn didn’t wake me up out of nowhere and send me on a mad dash to the bathroom. I’ve come to expect SOME sickness, but this?”

“This one’s giving you an extra hard time, huh? What did the doctor say? Something about making too much human growth hormone? I don’t know. She completely lost me when she broke out the science speak.”

“A variant of it. And it’s too much of ALL the hormones. Kind of weird; that the last pregnancy would be the worst. You’d think it would be the easiest; your body totally used to everything, able to push that sucker out with only two tries. I swear to Christ, Tyler. If this is another Millie labour…”

“You’ll cut my dick off?”

“That’s a little extreme. You need your dick. It’s still very useful. I’ll just chop your balls off. So you can’t make any more swimmers.”

“How about we not do that and just let the surgeon handle things?”

“I want a goddamn guarantee from him that this isn’t going to happen again; your penis remarkably healing itself and letting those swimmers of yours have free reign.”

“I’m going to jump in here for a second. You realize your body fucked up too, yeah? That it took BOTH of us to make this baby? Your tubes were tied. Right after you had Kota and Brookie. You’re not supposed to be able to get pregnant in the first place.”

She stares at him over the rim of her mug. “Even if I hadn’t gotten them tied, you weren’t supposed to be able to produce any sperm. Ever again. For the rest of your natural born life. But low and behold…”

“You…” He points the knife at her. “...need to accept some responsibility in all of this.”

She huffs, taking a sip of tea and then setting it on the stove; hands on her hips in a show of defiance. “I will do no such thing.”

“Come on, this can’t all be pinned entirely on me. Both our bodies had to screw up for this to happen. So be a big girl…” snagging her by the front of her t-shirt, he gently pulls her into him. “...and take some of the blame.”

She stares up at him; a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth and those enormous, dark eyes sparkling mischievously. “No. You can’t make me.”

“Listen pocket wife, I’m a foot and three inches taller than you and almost a hundred pounds heavier. I can make you.”

“I’d like to see you try. You don’t intimidate me. Your muscles and your resting asshole face and all those tattoos and scars. They don’t scare me a bit.”

“You realize I have ways of convincing you, don’t you? Ways that don’t involve intimidation. “

“Yeah?” Both hands clutch the front of her shirt as her body leans into his. “What kind of ways are we talking about then?”

He swipes the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip. “Sexual ones.”

“You realize that sounds more like pleasure than punishment, right?”

“You remember that thing we did back in New York City. In the bathtub. The thing you claim to hate but always seem to love? The one thing that I always can count on to make you squirt? Do you know what thing I’m talking about?”

“I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about.”

“Well next time around, when you least expect it? I’m going to do that twice as much. Only this time there won’t be a happy ending. For you, anyway.”

Her eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“Yes. Yes I would.”

“You’re evil.”

“Most evil husband out there.”

[kshkshks]

WHATEVER. *gets rid of your issues*

magnolia makes home decorations to pass time on a summer evening.

tags: fluff, sfw, romance, magnolia x dove, everything’s good! au, they’re all british suddenly (not sure how that happened).

830~ words.

.˚: ⁎⁺･｡✽˚.: *⁎ ﾟ

peachy yellow sun rays were filling the terrace, licking the rails, falling on the table, the floor, creating a patchwork of light and dark. magnolia was sitting in her armchair, padded by pillows on all sides. she frowned as she pulled a string through the stitches. it’s supposed to be a toy horse. a simple pattern, two identical cutouts sewn together, filled with some scrap fabric and dried herbs. those sat on the table next to her, prepared beforehand. she already meticulously pinned the tiny pieces of cloth together, and now was attaching them to each other, conducting even more care.

with a muffled noise the door to the porch opened. someone softly walked up to magnolia and tried to peek at the work in her hands from behind. they were unsuccessful, as the chair’s back was taller than them by a good four inches.

— mum, what’s the thing you’re making?

magnolia glanced at her son, who was now standing next to her with a curious expression on his face.

— a toy. it’s a pony.

mint nodded frantically. — and what’s that in the punnet? smells nice.

— filling.

— ...like for a dumpling?

magnolia couldn’t think of an answer.

— can i play with it when it’s done? oh, can i give it a name? maybe it should be dumpling. herb dumpling… that’s a teabag!

magnolia raised one brow slightly and stared in the forest outside of their small house. some bird leaped from one tree to another and chirped a brief tune. the dark green, teal foliage was softly swaying in the breeze.

— you can. but afterwards i would like to hang it near a window, so it smells nice in the room, alright?

— sure thing! mum, i’ll go grab a chair for myself, i’m going to sit with you while you work! — mint rushed away, inside the house, the little sprout on the top of his head bouncing in a funny manner as he did so.

she sighed quietly and looked at the trees again. now that she got distracted, she remembered wanting to drink something. a good cup of tea would be nice right about now.

in her opinion, summer evenings are best spent quietly tending to your interests, bonus points if the people who’re dear to you are near. then stargazing when it gets late enough; a clear sky far away from the city lights really is the greatest.

suddenly, she felt a light touch on her shoulder.

— magnolia... i brought you some tea with biscuits.

magnolia turned her head to the side and saw dove holding a small tray with a kettle, three cups, and a saucer with bourbons.

she put the tray on the table and leaned down to kiss her wife. immediately, magnolia felt something warm flood her stomach, and legs, and arms, something fuzzy fill her head and make her shut her eyes.

…

— mint, you really should put something warmer on, it’s getting chilly. — dove already straightened up and was reprimanding mint, who just entered with a stool in his hands.

— but mom! i’m not a tiny boy anymore, i won’t get sick so easily!

— right. yes, you will. you can take the blanket from the couch and have it over yourself while you’re outside, that would be fine enough.

mint didn’t make a sound, but magnolia just imagined how he’s pouting, as if deeply offended by someone caring for him.

— thanks. — she took one of the cups, waited for dove to pour the golden tea in it, and took a sip.

— it’s very nice.

dove smiled softly, a twinkle lit up in her blueish grey eyes.

she leaned on the table, half sitting on it, and turned her head to the setting sun, barely visible behind the thick greenery.

mint came back to the terrace, now wrapped in a light purple knitted blanket. being careful not to trip on it, he walked up to his mums and attempted pouring himself some tea. dove immediately sprang up, ready to help, but magnolia was able to hold her hand back.

mint battled the heavy blanket for a minute but, soon enough, there were two more cups filled with the hot, steaming drink.

— thank you. — dove smiled again, and magnolia unintentionally got lost looking at her.

— so, how’s the horse coming along?

magnolia was pulled back to the real time.

— i’m almost done, just need to add the insides… and attach a string. for hanging.

dove picked up one of the teacups and a biscuit.

— we’ll stay with you while you’re on it.

magnolia involuntarily grinned, more with one side of her face than the other.

…

— also, hey, magnolia?

— hm?

— i love you.

— love you too mummy! — mint turned from fidgeting with the blanket and blinked at magnolia.

now the entirety of her face was suffused with ruddines.

— love you too,

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Another one because I’m a greedy shit

Piggy back rides

Thorne Jamison x Roderick peterson

Please 🙏 xxxx

Yes! My musical rarepair! :D

On with the fic!

--

"You know, it's actually really funny."

"Shut up."

"Like, you kept warnin' me to be careful, 'specially in my Doc Martins."

"Shut. Up."

"And yet, here you are, in the very situations you kept warnin' me about, Roddy."

"Oh for the love of God, shut up, Thorne!"

Roderick was glowering at the man who stood over him, the shit eating grin on his boyfriend's face made Roderick want to hit him with a snowball. Really, he should have known something stupid like this would happen, it usually did.

He had told Thorne that his shoes, which really shouldn't have those extra two inches in elevation, might cause him to slip on the ice that hadn't yet melted outside of Roderick's home. He had already seen the man fumble earlier when they went out, but instead of Thorne falling ass over tea kettle, it had been Roderick.

He was currently sitting on the ground, his backside and pride both equally bruised (though one was much colder and wetter than the other), and Thorne was too busy looking smug and amused to be of any help.

"Right." Roderick frowned. "Let's just get back inside before anything else- gah!" He cried out in pain, grabbing at his ankle. He hadn't even realized it was hurting, he was too busy being annoyed and embarrassed.

This seemed to wipe the smile off Thorne's face as he knelt down by his boyfriend's side. "Oh shit, are you okay, hun? Let me see."

They pulled up Roderick's pant leg and pulled down his sock, seeing that his ankle looked a bit swollen. "Must have tweaked it when you slipped, it happens. Doesn't look broken, not like my band mate's ankle when he slipped on water on stage, nasty fall he took, really fucked it up for a few weeks."

Roderick frowned and tried to stand, but it hurt too much. He probably needed to elevate it and put some heat or ice on it to help with the swelling. "Could you help me get inside?"

"Sure thing, Roddy." Thorne said and turned around. "Alright, let's go."

Frowning, Roderick fixed his glasses, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, what are you doing?"

"What's it look like? Offerin' you a piggy back ride!"

"Can't you just..." Roderick waved a hand about, but had a feeling that Thorne was determined to just do it this way. "Oh, alright." He said with a sigh and shifted himself to wrap his arms around his boyfriend's neck, Thorne helping to get his hands under the taller man's thighs and hefted him up.

"This seems like an even more dangerous way to slip on the ice." Roderick pointed out as Thorne started to walk up to his house.

"Well then, maybe we'll just have to put some salt 'r something out in the mornin'. Come on, you're lovin' this!"

"Not really." Roderick sighed, still clinging tightly to Thorne, praying that neither of them fall again, it'll probably hurt a lot more going down a second time.

"Hey, come on, you're fine! 'sides, this way, you're the bigger spoon for once!"

"Why are you like this?"

[littleharpethcrossfit]

Sunday,   9   April,   2023.......... Warmup.....DeadLifts......300 Reps  Plus  ERGs.

More perfect days are not to be had.  

Warmup #1

Coach Butler reluctantly led us in some mobility movements, dynamic stretch’s, and bodyweight exercises.  

Warmup:

100 Partner Med-Ball Sit-Ups, or 20/20/20 GHDs.

Strength

Deadlifts:          8 / 8 / 8 / 8

60 to 70%  1 Rep Max

Shane=305     Robert/Ed=275     Timmy=255     Bernie=225     Coach=215     LSU=145     Kayla/Alicia/Taylor/Abby=115     Susan/Warner/Linda=present

Metabolic Conditioner

5 Rounds 

20  Kettle Bell Swings     (53/35)

20  Box Jumps     (24/20)

20  Push-Ups

20 M / 16 F     Calories Any ERG

Kayla=19:02     Abby=19:40     Taylor=20:20      LSU=20:23     Coach=21:23     Timmy=22:25     Shane=23:00      Robert=23:09      Alicia=23:31     Ed=23:38     Bernie=did it     Linda/Susan/Warner=present

Notes:

A very small number came to play.  If it wasn’t for the Easter Holiday visitors we would have had an even smaller session.

We were all happy to have Big Shane back again.  He had been touring China for the last month.  He admitted to eating only Chinese food and doing ZERO working out.  He also admitted to losing a little muscle and gaining a little adipose.  

Timmy brought his Son Warner and his Mom Susan.  Warner is now 6 inches taller than Dad and sports more facial hair than Dad.  Warner complained of many injuries and feeling like an “Old Man”.  He got zero sympathy from me, and repeatedly refused any opportunities to enjoy even a scaled CrossFit workout, but he did accept a cold beer.  Afterwards, GrandMa allowed that Warner is not 21 yo yet.

We always hear that Timmy (pHD) is our cleverest member, but I aver that his Mother Susan is the genetic donor of all his assumed intelligence.  I had a half hour enjoyable conversation with Susan, during which I probed with many a politically incorrect question of which Miss Susan never hesitated an answer.  I learned everything anyone would ever need to know to be able to drain all her financial wealth and leave Timmy destitute.  She wouldn’t admit to how Timmy wrangled that fine Audi SUV from her, but she replaced it with a Porsche which is more her style.  Toward the end of our conversation I made an indelicate proposal which she sweetly declined and added that she thought I was “A nice boy”.  I wish I had got her to have a beer with Warner.

The Butler girls were also in attendance.  Taylor and Abby.  I can never tell by looking which is the elder Sister, which is something that seems to aggravate both of them.  We (the other girls) all agreed that, considering that they endured a Robert household, no man in their futures will ever dominate them.  

Tuesday at 4 PM.

[smg4andbeetlejuicefanatic]

So I made a Cuphead AU a while ago and never got around to doing anything with it, but Season 2 of The Cuphead Show coming out made me remember it. It’s basically an AU where King Dice has a big brother. I got motivation to draw him, so here he is; King Dice’s big brother! And his name is…

*drumroll*

✨Ace✨

Took me forever to figure out a name for him lol.

Things about Ace and the AU:

In this AU, Dice is the last name, so Ace’s full name is Ace Dice, and King is actually King Dice’s first name, but he prefers to be called his full name or just Dice.

Ace is a very nice guy who loves his brother more than anything in existence and would sell his soul to the Devil if it meant keeping King Dice safe and happy. He even calls King “Dicey” as a nickname.

Ace and King were separated as children when their parents got divorced and each took one of them. Ace spent many, many years of his life searching for King; all the way into adulthood, but was never able to find him. This resulted in Ace falling into depression, and he eventually gave up; thinking King to be dead.

After giving up his search for King, Ace opened a pie shop in the city called “Ace’s Pie Palace” with the slogan “You name it, I bake it!” to make a living and to try to help himself to move on. He and his pies quickly became popular with everyone, including Cuphead, Mugman, and Elder Kettle.

Ace carries an old picture of him and King as kids wherever he goes.

Ace is four years older than King and six inches taller.

Ace doesn’t just sell pies; he also sells turnovers, cobblers, cheesecakes, and milkshakes.

Cuphead, Mugman, and Ms. Chalice are the ones to eventually reunite Ace with King Dice, and of course the two are extremely overjoyed to see each other again.

When Ace finds out that King works for the Devil, he is not happy about it in the slightest. He really wants King to quit that job so they can stay at each other’s sides.

(@euphoricandnostalgia He’s finished! What do you think?)

[neondomino]

Submission for Murder Mystery on the HP Drabbles & Games Server

I can read your thoughts right now

Remus scribbles his name on the paper that is offered to him, and he takes the parcel from the delivery man, heading inside with it.

Sirius is at work, and Remus is under strict instructions not to open anything. He’s usually well behaved, and the one time he did was actually an accident, but Sirius hasn’t let that go in all of three years now, and Remus will never live down that expectation that he’ll open something. It was one time. Once.

He hears the ping of the kettle as it finishes boiling and Remus closes the door behind him as he examines the parcel. He gives it a shake, double-checking the name on the front (because if it’s in his own name, he has reason to open it.

It’s not. It makes a sound that doesn’t allow Remus to identify what’s inside, and Remus pouts. He hates waiting until his birthday. He hates watching the parcels stacking up throughout the week, only for Sirius to disappear with them in the evening, and the distinct sound of hammering coming from the shed, leaving Remus wondering what on Earth is even happening down there.

Reluctantly, he sets the parcel with the one that arrived earlier that day. He turns to the radio, turning the volume up before going to sit in his chair with his cup of tea. Sirius will be home from work in an hour, so he has time for this before he plans to start on dinner.

…

“Oh, this isn’t a present for you,” Sirius says, as he examines the package. “I saw something for myself and thought, what the hell.”

“Show me,” Remus insists, eager to have /something/ opened today, even if it’s not something for him.

Sirius does as he’s told, eagerly ripping into the paper of the box. He pulls out a familiar box and Remus laughs softly. Sirius has about four pairs of boots lined up by the door. Every six months or so, he treats himself to a new pair, and Remus watches eagerly to see which pair he’s sprung for this time. He knows that there were two pairs that Sirius has been eyeing up for a while. Dr. Marten boots are Sirius’ weakness. Well, those and Remus himself.

He can get Sirius whichever pair isn’t in that box, for his birthday present.

“No looking,” Sirius insists. “I’ll model them for you.”

Remus laughs. “I’ll go and put the kettle on and make some tea whilst you get the boots on,” he says. Sirius always takes a few minutes to sort out the laces and admire them. Remus is certain he once saw Sirius kissing his new boots, and he loves Sirius enough to offer him the privacy to do that with these ones.

Sirius grins, but his attention turns back to the boots and Remus heads into the kitchen and sticks the kettle on. As he waits, he opens the cupboard and helps himself to a couple of chocolate biscuits.

When the tea is made, he calls Sirius’ name and he starts back into the room. Sirius isn’t in the living room, so Remus sets the cups down on the coffee table and he waits patiently.

It’s only a minute before Sirius strides in, and Remus stares at him. He stands back up from the sofa. Yes, he was right in his assumptions - Sirius is suddenly taller.

His eyes move down to the black boots on Sirius’ feet that are so very fitting with Sirius’ image, but the bottom of the boots are a good two or three inches high, and Remus slowly moves his gaze back up to Sirius’ face. There’s pure delight in his expression.

“What made you think this is a good idea,” Remus says, folding his arms.

“I look good,” Sirius replies, haughtily.

“You’re still short, you know,” Remus insists.

Sirius gasps audibly at this. “Short? Me?” He strides over to Remus. “I’m the same height as you.”

Remus smirks. “Not quite,” he says. “I’m still about an inch taller.”

“Are you sure? How can you tell?” Sirius pouts.

“I just can,” Remus insists. “But… on the bright side…”

“Yeah?” Sirius asks.

“You’re taller than James now,” Remus points out.

Sirius smiles, begrudgingly. But as he thinks about it, his smile widens into a grin as he clearly decides this is a compliment. “Well, that’s one plus,” he says. “So… let’s go over and see James, haven’t seen him in a while.”

“We saw him yesterday,” Remus laughs. “But we can go over. After I drink my tea.”

“Hey,” Sirius says, grabbing Remus’ hand. “Come and dance with me. Maybe you can lean your head on my shoulder this time?”

He pulls Remus to dance to the music coming from the radio, but Remus smirks as he feels the ever-familiar flutter from Sirius’ touch.

“Sorry, darling, but you’re still too short for that,” he teases.

[creative-lampd-liberties]

"You're not small. You wouldn't understand" and “I may be small but I am mighty.” with Janus please ?

... I may be projecting...

I was going thru my stuff and I realized that I finished this but never posted it. Apologies for the delay @zozomind I hope you like it. I think you might have been asking for angst but it turned into drlamp snuggle time.

...as a small person, I may also have projected a bit 😅😅

☆☆☆

Janus was already in full rant mode as they came into the living room.  "I don't know how to explain to you that *I* am the *correct* height. *You* are just unfortunately tall. Both of you."

Roman, hot on his heels, rolled his eyes "I'm only five inches larger than you!" Remus giggled and Roman shot him a pained grimace. 

Janus sniffed imperiously. " You're not small, you wouldn't understand."

"I could make him shorter, if you want," Remus offered, summoning a meat cleaver.

"Do not." Roman growled and snatched it from him, vanishing it. Remus crossed his arms and made a face, pointedly pouting.

Janus grinned, wide and sharp. "Now Roman, There's always room for improvement." 

Letting out a huff, Roman threw his hands up in the air. "I'm not that tall! *You're* not that short!"

It was Janus’s turn to roll his eyes. "I'm not short, obviously, I'm small. Perfectly packaged." He waved dismissively at Roman. "But you are entirely too tall."

Remus perked up again. "Oh! or I could make *you* taller. Stretch your bones?"

Janus smiled blandly at him."You know what will happen if you try."

Roman groaned loudly  "You're both being ridiculous. Patton back me up here?"

Patton blinked up at him from where he and Virgil were piecing together a puzzle on the coffee table. "Sure thing, kiddo. What about?"

Janus jumped in before Roman could start. "I was just explaining to Roman that being small is not a disadvantage. That it is, in fact, the better lifestyle."

"Oh. Well in that case I hate to disappoint Roman, but I agree with Janus." Patton said.. Virgil snorted, which made Patton chuckle behind his hand. Roman gaped at both of them, spluttering.

Janus beamed at him, smug. "Of course you do. Being the appropriate height makes you smarter than all these freakishly gangly giants "

Patton shook a finger at him, trying and failing to school his expression into disapproval. "Now Janus, that's not nice. They can't help that they're not fun size like us!"

Logan, who had been watching the exchange over his book, frowned. "I'm not sure I'm understanding this argument. Are you suggesting there is a moral correlation to height?"

"No, of course not!" Patton assured, at the same time as Janus said, "Yes. Absolutely."

Logan set his book down, shifting firmly into lecture mode. "That's ridiculous. Height has no basis on personality."

"Well…" Roman hedged.

"And certainly no moral value whatsoever."

"Your mom's ridiculous and has no moral value whatsoever." Remus chirped. Roman whacked him on the shoulder. "What?" he whined.

Janus favored Logan with his least impressed look. "You're not small, you wouldn't understand. But then… you're not tall either are you?" 

"I am a perfectly respectable height." Logan protested. "It's the national average."

Janus nodded sympathetically. "Exactly. It's *average*. Shrink, then perhaps we can be friends."

This took Logan aback, face twisting uncertainly. "But we're already… aren't we already friends?"

Patton tutted, actually managing to glare a bit in Janus's direction. "Of course you are sweetie." He clamored up to pat Logan comfortingly on the shoulder. "We're all friends. Janus is just being silly."

"Traitor." Janus hissed.

Virgil gave up on the puzzle. Smirking, he climbed to his feet and snatched Janus's hat from his head. He held it just out of reach. "Is that your evil plot for today then? To confuse and antagonize poor Logan?"

Janus scowled at him. "You're lucky I don't bite you." He hissed.

"Was that supposed to be a threat?" Virgil grinned wider, and set the hat on his own head, still firmly out of reach. "It's adorable that you act like you're not itty-bitty. But you are, you're tiny, like a kitten."

Janus growled. "And you sound like someone who's *asking* to be bitten."

Virgil huffed a laugh. "Eh, I wasn't that fond of my ankles anyway."

"Careful." Janus's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I may be *small* but I am mighty."

A calculated look crept into Virgil's amused expression. "Uh huh. Sure, kitten. Y'know though, you are the perfect height…" he said, tone light 

"Damn right, I am!"

"-for me to do this!" 

Janus hissed and spat as Virgil scooped him bodily off or the floor, swatting ineffectually at his head. "Put me down this instant!" he growled. 

Virgil just turned to Remus, who was already cackling, and the two of them squished him between them. They planted matching kisses on each cheek as Janus squirmed, laughing when he flushed all the way to the tips of his ears and stilled, letting out a noise like a startled tea kettle.

Roman was watching with unabashed delight. "Why didn't I think of that. Patton, c'mere."

Patton all but lept into his arms, giggling. "Oh no! I'm caught!" He accepted his cheek kiss with magnanimity.

Roman carted him over to the group hug, Patton squirming his way into the center with Janus. "Hi." He whispered, beaming. Janus blinked at him like a startled deer.

They were only missing one side now. Remus was craning his neck to eye the couch. "You too, geek chic. Join the orgy!"

"Must I?" Logan wrinkled his nose, but when Virgil made grabby hands he went easily enough. They pulled him into the circle. 

Once they had him, the cheek kisses began in full force. Everyone got a fair share. Patton squealed and giggled and planted retaliatory kisses on his "attackers". Logan endured them with a stoic sigh and a small blush. But Janus resumed his squirming in force.

"Look, he's blushing!" Roman teased, punctuating it with another kiss.

"I am *not*!

"So cute!" This was Patton, and Janus managed to flush even brighter. Especially when Logan leaned in to kiss his forehead.

A petulant whine crept into his voice. "This is undignified. You're squishing me."

Virgil rolled his eyes. "It's called affection, Jan. It won't actually kill you." 

Patton bit his lip to contain his amusement. He gently squeezed one gloved hand in his own. "You get used to it eventually. Let's me know I'm loved."

Janus groaned dramatically. "Fine. I'll submit to your so called *affection*. Just remember, I know where all of you sleep."

☆☆☆

[axoxtxhxh]

(Rain) Not Without Trying - Chapter 1

So I read the story Snow by SasageyoWrites and LOVED it. I will link it here. I definitely recommend reading it. It’s a super cute Levixreader story and while I was reading it, I wanted to make a similar story with Reiner since it was so fluffy and warm.

I started writing a LevixreaderxReiner love triangle chaptered story and it’s actually my first chapter, but also works as a one shot. I’m nowhere near being done with the whole story, but I do have some nice little chunks I can post. Let me know what you think!

Summary: Reiner and reader get rained into a cabin for the night. Reader is a captain. I also made Reiner a bit older than 17.

ReinerxFem!Reader          Fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of virginity          Word Count: ~4,000

What a nightmare Y/N thought as she pushed harder through the thick mud, her boots getting harder and harder to pull out the more they walked. She could barely remember how she got here. Shivering in her cloak and light jacket, they weren’t expecting the heavy rains to pick up this quickly. She turned back looking at the only soldier she should be able to see, Reiner.

At least he was big enough to wade through the mud, she thought. She was the one who volunteered to search out the furthest knowing a thunderstorm was coming. She wasn’t too worried because she knew there weren’t many titans out in this area. She had chosen Reiner to come with because if something did happen, she would need someone big enough to get them out. However, the rain wasn’t supposed to start getting bad until much later, but now that the sun was going down and their feet were getting stuck in the ground, she realized they needed a plan. And fast. The dropping temperatures weren’t helping.

What a great Captain I am, she continued worrying. Get lost and freeze to death with a cadet. Wonderful. She had worked so hard to make Captain and work alongside Levi, Hange, and Erwin for so long. She was different from the three of them though. None of it came easy to her. She wasn’t brave, she wasn’t smart, she didn’t really have much talent at all. She was a hard worker and always tried her best. Even if her best got her lost in a storm.

She took one more look behind her to see how he was doing. They had been walking by foot, the horses needing a break from pushing through the thick mud, for nearly an hour now. She shivered, pulling her soaked coat a little tighter.

“What’s the plan, captain?” Reiner called shakily from behind her. Even he was starting to quiver with the cold. They both knew they only had a short amount of time before they were in complete darkness and big trouble following that.

“There should be a cabin not far from here,” She called. “It used to be an old safe house for scouts.” She squinted her eyes trying to see further in the distance, not actually sure just how far this cabin would be or even exactly where they were. After a couple more minutes of walking, she noticed a darkness up ahead.

“Up there!” she pointed and Reiner let out a small sigh, picking up his pace clearly excited to be almost out of the cold. The rain falling was nearly blinding, but after a couple minutes, they were at the front door of the cabin, pushing open the door. Looking around, their faces fell.

“When did you say this was last used?” Reiner questioned. They both stepped in a little further.

“Honestly,” She started, “Way before me. I think even before--” In the darkness of the cabin Y/N walked right into a spiderweb and started shouting while flailing her arms around. “Reiner! Get it off! It’s all over me!” He tried wiping her face, but her arms kept swatting him out of the way.

“Hold… still… Captain...hold…” He rumbled. “Y/N!” Finally, he grabbed her arms and forced them to her sides until he could see her face. The little bit of moonlight shining through the open front door lit up her face. He picked off any little pieces of spiderweb that he could see and looked at her. “All gone,” he chuckled lightly, “I didn’t realize you were scared of spiders.”

“Just the webs, really.” Y/N said with a shrug. The horses made a noise outside and Y/N turned to the door, “I’ll get the horses somewhere warm.” As she walked towards the door, she felt a pull at her belt.

“I can do that. How about you find something useful for us in here.” He motioned to the room.

“There should be a small stable around the back,” she said already searching for a light in the cabin. And Reiner was out the door. Y/N looked around the cabin with the small lantern she had. There were some candles she was able to light to give the cabin a glow bright enough to look around.

A bed in the back corner with a layer of dust covering it at least half and inch thick, a tiny fireplace next to that with a couple pots and a kettle, a chair to the right of that. On the other side of the cabin was a tiny kitchen with an even tinier table. Not much, but it’s only for the night and the fireplace should offer some sort of warmth. She set off to light the fireplace and see about using the kettle to heat up some tea. Surely there had to be some tea in the cabinets.

She moved to the open cabin door and filled a kettle up with some rainwater and began heating it over the now lit fireplace. Digging in the cabinets, she wasn’t as lucky. She did manage to find some black tea, which was quite a rare find, but nothing in the way of food.

With a gust of wind, the cabin door banged against the wall as Reiner walked in. “Whoa!” He exclaimed pulling the door away from the wall to get it closed. After a couple tries he got it to latch closed. “The horses are good,” He knocked the excess mud off of his boots, “There was some old hay left there that they might eat. I think they were just happy to be out of the rain.” After failing to get all the mud off his boots, he settled with taking them off at the door.

“They are better off than we are. Nothing to eat in here.” She sighed. “I did manage to find some tea though.”

“You think it will be clear by morning?” Reiner questioned looking through the window.

“I certainly hope so.” The tea kettle started whistling and Y/N ran over to get it off the heat. “Someone should get sent out to get us if not.” Setting out two cups, she started getting the tea ready. Loud coughs started behind her and she turned quickly to see what was happening. Reiner had hopped on the dust-coated bed and created a huge puff of filth that swirled around his head.

“This,” cough, cough, “is so…” cough, “disgusting.” He waved his hand in front of his face trying to clear the air. “Are people expected to sleep on this?” he coughed out.

“It’s not so bad, “Y/N laughed bringing over the tea. “We will have to pat the dust out of it, but it sure beats the floor.” She said sitting on the floor, “We will be fine.” She looked at the fire and warmed her hands which allowed Reiner to hide the slight blush that appeared on his cheeks.

Did she say we? He thought. As in, WE will sleep on the bed. Together? He shook it off. No way, there’s a chair in the opposite corner. He will definitely be on the chair. That seems like a better option either way. He coughed again.

“This fire really isn’t helping how cold it is, huh?” Y/N shifted trying to get warm.

“I’m feeling warmer,” Reiner quietly added watching her rub her hands together. He noticed how long and slender her arms were. She wasn’t too slender though. She was one of the taller members of the survey corps and he liked that. His eyes travelled down her waist and onto her hips. Yeah, she had a nice amount of curves. He watched as she reached towards the fire to shift around the wood, eyes moving back up her waist. He tried to look away, but could only manage a couple slow blinks and continued watching her.

“Well that makes one of us,” She smiled and his heart started beating a bit faster. It never occurred to him that she always wore her hair tied back. Walking through the storm filled her hair with water leaving her hair wet and falling loose, drips of water rolling down her neck. Reiner followed one of the drops as it rolled over her collarbone.

“You look pretty.” He said lost in a daze. Y/N quickly looked at him. He nearly shrieked and tried to correct himself. “I mean you look warm-- I mean, no, it. IT looks warm. Damn it! The fire… the fire looks pretty warm…Fuck.” Y/N laughed quietly watching him bury his face in his hands. “I’m just going to pat this off in the other corner.” He grabbed the blankets off the top of the bed and walked to the kitchen and hung it on a line. He found a stick to use to release the dust and began hitting until the dust started coming out. Hoping he would choke to death on it.

Why am I thinking like this? He thought. She is a captain. Not that he couldn’t think about her. In fact, he thought about her quite a bit. He took a quick glance her way and saw her take a small sip of tea. She was rather remarkable. She was the smartest next to Hange and the toughest next to Levi. He had heard that she was also second when it came to strategizing. Regardless of her position, she was much more approachable than all of them. Since she had been in the survey corps for quite a while, she spent more time with the cadets. After being promoted, most of her time was spent with the other captains. So she was much older than Reiner, but not too much older, he assured himself.

He couldn’t get himself to look away from her. She did look really pretty trying to keep herself warm. Reiner could help her get warm if he just sat next to her. No, no no. I can’t think about this.

“So, do you have any siblings?” Y/N’s voice called over from the fire place breaking Reiner out of his thoughts. He looked over and she was getting up off of the floor and walking towards him.

“Uhh, me? No.“ He looked away from her as she sat at the tiny kitchen table across from him. “I have a cousin, but Bertoldt is the closest thing to a brother.”

“You two are close,” she took a sip of her tea, “That’s really nice.”

“What about you?” He said trying to keep the conversation going.

“I have a lot of siblings.” She laughed. “Lots of girls. Two sisters and a younger brother.” Reiner looked over at her.

“I always wanted a sister,” he revealed. Y/N smiled at him. She looked at his eyes and saw how even thinking about a younger sister made his eyes twinkle a little. He smiled back at her. She could imagine him being a really great older brother. He may be annoying, just like all the younger cadets, but she could definitely see his desire to take care of people benefiting a younger sister. She noticed herself falling into a daydream and quickly jumped up.

“I’m so sorry!” She put her cup down and stood up, “Let me finish dusting the blankets and you sit with your tea.” She took the stick from his hand and pushed him to the chair she was sitting in while she picked up his patting. After a couple of hits, she realized there wasn’t any dust left in the blankets. “Huh, I guess you finished.” She picked up the blankets and carried them over to the bed and laid them out so they could use them. When she turned around, Reiner was putting both empty mugs into the sink. He walked over as Y/N took off her boots.

“We should probably get some sleep.” They both said in unison. They laughed at their similar thoughts. Y/N started taking off her jacket. Reiner noticed how nicely her shirt fit and how tightly it hugged her curves.

“Uh… I can—I can take the chair,” Reiner stuttered and looked toward the chair across from the bed, clearly too small for him.

“Nonsense!” Y/N snapped. “We’re trying to stay warm here.” She started unbuttoning her shirt and Reiner quickly looked away.

“The uh… the fire is already really warm,” He motioned at the slowly dying fire, “You can even keep the blankets.”

Y/N laughed, shirt fully unbuttoned revealing an even tighter tank top underneath. “This is why you would make a great brother.” She pulled her shirt off the rest of the way and began unbuttoning her pants, “But don’t be stupid. That fire is dying and we don’t have any more wood. Plus, our clothes are soaked. Once you take them off and sit on that chair, you will freeze.”

Reiner could barely bring himself to look at her or breathe. His eyes were wide as he leaned over the fireplace. Take off our clothes? Like, all of them?? Y/N could tell he was uncomfortable.

“Look…” she walked over to him, putting a hand on his arm, “I know it’s not ideal and it might seem a little awkward.”

“Ideal?” He looked at her, questioning, trying not to imagine anything.

“Yes, but I promise you, it won’t matter once we’re both warm.” She pulled him over to the bed. They both sat down. “I promise, I won’t even look.” She covered her eyes so all he could see was the big smile she had on her face. The light from the dying fire was dancing on her skin. The orange glow creating shadows along her jawline that he wanted to touch and trace down her long neck all the way to—

“O—okay… Um,” He broke away from his thoughts and started removing his jacket, then shirt and finally his pants. He laid down, covering himself with the blanket.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Y/N wondered. Reiner noticed her take a peek through her fingers just to check and laughed.

“Yes, you can look.” She smiled down at him, stood up and without pause, took off her tank top to reveal only her bra underneath then took off her pants. Reiner let out an inaudible gasp, but this time he couldn’t look away. He watched as Y/N climbed over him to get to the other side of the bed, climbing under the covers and letting out a small shiver.

“You warm yet?” she asked. Reiner tried to find the words, but nothing came out. “I’m kidding. Obviously, it’s still cold.” She adjusted the blankets next to him. “Do you mind if I hug you from behind?”

“I—uh… I mean... if we—you…” He stumbled over his words, “If… you need…”

“Relax…” Y/N turned her body to face Reiner, “It’s half the reason I am behind you. You youngins. “She chuckled. “I won’t have any idea what’s happening in your pants… Well, your pants are on the floor, aren’t they?” She laughed. “I’m only hear for your warmth and what little I have to share with you.” She put her arm around Reiner’s waist and he felt himself tense up immediately. “You weren’t lying, you really are warm.” She held tightly and all Reiner could think about was her body pressed up against his back.

How can she just lay in bed with me like this? Half-naked?! She’s half-naked. Oh God, she is half-naked touching me. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Reiner couldn’t think about anything except their bodies pressed against each other. He was starting to feel very thankful she thought to sleep behind him.

“Reiner?” Y/N broke the silence. “I have something I have to tell you.”

“oh—okay,” he nervously replied.

“I peeked.” She told.

“Huh?”

“When you were taking off your shirt earlier. I said I wouldn’t look, but I did.” It was silent until Reiner started laughing, his body shaking in her arms.

“That’s it?” His laughing slowing down. “It’s okay.”

“Oh good,” Y/N sighed. “I felt the need to be honest with you.”

“That’s admirable.” He felt her snuggle into the blankets more.

“Reiner?”

“Yes?” Pause.

“Good night.”

“Good night Y/N.” She pulled him in a little tighter.

She had to give herself a little pat on her back. Laying here in this bed in a cold room isn’t so bad having Reiner next to her. She could have asked to have Connie with her and they would both be freezing. Reiner was much bigger than her and seemed to have an endless supply of body heat. She took a deep breath, breathing him in. There was the faintest hint of his sweat. He smells really good, she thought. Why is it always the ones you never expect to smell so good? She wrapped her arm a little tighter around him, moving her arm to rest on his left arm.

She wasn’t lying when she said she had peeked at him, what she failed to mention was how much she enjoyed the peek. Reiner was tall and had a great build. She had definitely noticed him before, but they don’t have much time for relationships. Plus, he was much younger than her, but he honestly didn’t look it. She had to remind herself why her arm was around him and it wasn’t for the reason she had hoped. Trying to push back her own lustful thoughts, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to be tired. Resisting the urge to nuzzle her entire face into his back, she settled for her forehead and fell asleep.

Reiner felt Y/N press her nose into his back and realized she had fallen asleep. Her skin was so soft and it did feel warmer with them touching. He could feel her breath on his neck and back each time she breathed. And just as quickly as he tensed with her touch, he felt his body relax. He leaned back into her arms with an odd feeling of security. He moved his hand so it rested on hers. Slowly, he felt himself drift further into relaxation and then finally off to sleep.

…..

The sun started rising around 7am which caused Y/N to start stirring, not wanting to open her eyes just yet. She felt so comfortable resting on her warm pillow. She pulled it a little closer and it started moving, pulling her closer. She quickly opened her eyes trying to figure out why her pillow was moving at all. Reiner was gradually waking up as well. He was laying on his back with his arms around Y/N while she lay cuddled to his side, her head on his chest. It took them a while to realize what was happening before they both shot up.

“We were cuddling,” she said, confused. Then climbed out of the bed and slowly backed away.

“No we weren’t!” Reiner shockingly refusing.

“You’re really going to try and deny it?” Y/N gestured towards the bed, an obvious tone in her question. When Reiner didn’t say anything, she rolled her eyes. Reiner stood up. He was staring at her. He was still shirtless, in his underwear with his pants on the floor, revealing his muscular legs. While she searched for their clothes, she noticed him staring and realized he was gawking at her chest, still in her bra. “Oh grow up!” She threw his shirt at him and searched for her tank top.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just never…” He mumbled, pulling his shirt over his head. Y/N found her tank top and was putting that on as well.

“Never what?” She questioned, confused where he was going. He pulled on his pants, buckling as he tried to explain.

“You know…” Y/N’s eyebrows drew together having no idea what he was talking about. “This…” he indicated waving his hand up and down at her body. Her eyes slowly searching back and forth trying to understand what he was getting at.

“Had sex?” She said a little too excitedly with wide eyes waiting for his confirmation that she guessed correctly.

“Well—I… I meant more,” more gesturing and hand waving at her, “seen… a woman… naked, but yeah,” He nodded hesitantly, “had sex.” Her eyes opened even wider and she followed him as he crossed the room to get his boots, sitting in the chair to put them on.

“You’ve never had sex?” This was the conversation she liked. She sat on the bed forgetting about getting dressed, continuing to question him. “You’re young, but you’re not that young. How old are you? 18? 19?”

“20,” he zipped up his boots.

“20 and you’ve never had sex?” She thought out loud and quickly realized how judgmental she sounded and tried to correct it. “It’s not bad, I didn’t have sex until I was 23.” She shrugged, disclosing the information so he didn’t feel uncomfortable. “I’m just a little surprised.”

“I’ve been training to be a soldier for a long time,” he stood up looking for her shirt so she could continue getting dressed. “I guess I just didn’t have time for a girlfriend.” He handed over her shirt and she put it on.

“Wait! You’ve never even had a girlfriend?” Again, she tried to correct herself. “I’m sorry, it’s just really hard for me to believe. You’ve kissed someone before though, right?” Reiner looked at her, handing Y/N her boots, his mouth open trying to explain, his shoulders mid-shrug. Y/N’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh! Reiner!” She took her boots from him, her mouth agape and eyes following him as he walked back and sat on the chair. Once he was facing her, she smiled and shook her head while pulling on her boots. “You definitely took last night like a champ then. Sorry, I was trying to be playful, but it was probably terrifying.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” he smiled at her. She smiled back at him and they stayed like this until they heard a splintering crack and both their expressions turned to concern looking around to see what it was. Reiner flew back with an, “Oh fu…” as the chair he sat on collapsed into a pile of wood under him.

“Reiner!” Y/N jumped up and ran over to see if he was okay. He erupted in a loud, hearty laugh, holding his stomach trying to contain his laughter. Y/N smiled at him and started to laugh with him, enjoying the sound of his amusement filling the cabin. She reached down for his hand, pulling him up. “And you wanted to sleep on that.”

It was only about 10 minutes later that Levi arrived, opening the cabin door searching for them.

“Oh good.” He stepped into the cabin further. “You guys are here.” They were both sitting on the bed in the corner and stood up when Levi walked in. “Are you ready?”

They made their way out of the cabin to where Levi left his horse. The rain had stopped, but the mud hadn’t quite dried out completely.

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to bring more than one horse so we are going to have to double up. We can come back later for the other horses when the terrain is a little clearer.” Levi informed them. “Reiner, you can take this horse and Y/N, you can ride with me.”

“I don’t mind Y/N riding with me,” Reiner interjected as he climbed up on the horse.

“Are you some kind of idiot?” Levi narrowed his eyes a little. “I wasn’t basing my choice off of your comfort. That horse doesn’t need to be carrying two giants. It makes much more sense for Y/N to ride with me.”

“Do I need to remind both of you that I haven’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast?” Y/N interrupted. She reached for Levi’s hand and sat behind him. “And in the three years of knowing each other, I have never skipped dinner.”

“Is that why you won’t stop growing?” Levi related as he started riding back towards the base.

“Aww, your jealousy is showing?” Y/N laughed.

“Tch.” Levi reached into his pocket and pulled out a bread roll and handed it to her. Her eyes lit up as she grabbed the roll.

“Levi!” She smelled the roll, eyes rolling back at the smell. “You do care about me.” She ripped the roll in half.

“Don’t let it get to your head.” Levi slowed the horse down to Reiner. “I know how you get when you’re hungry.”

“Reiner!” Y/N looked back at him and handed him the other half of her roll.

“Thanks!” He took it and finished it off in two bites.

“Let’s go.” Levi turned and led the way with Reiner following behind.

A/N: Please Please correct my warnings if I don’t do it well enough. I’m still getting used to making sure I properly inform everyone what to expect before they start reading.

[edgeofn1ght]

Let Him Not Hate Me

Post-‘Deception’ arc gen obikin • 4.8k words • Read on ao3 instead

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On the evening of his full return to the Temple, Obi-Wan deposited his belongings in his apartment, and changed quickly, eager to get out of the garb of a bounty hunter and back into the familiar, comfy robes of a Jedi. He looked around and sighed, grateful to be home. Nearly everything was just as he had left it, right down to the tea cup and kettle next to the cooker where they always were, ready to be used—just as if he had never ‘died.’

Both he and the Council had planned on his return, after all.

There was, however, one exception: his bed wasn’t made quite the same way he knew he had left it, and his top blanket was missing. There was only one person it could have been...

Anakin.

He was also the one person Obi-Wan had been looking for since his return, but he was nowhere to be found, and their bond was shut tight. Which wasn’t at all promising. He desperately wanted to see him, hear him, speak to him...touch him. He could only assume he did not want the same, otherwise he would have found him immediately. But Anakin had been quite incensed the last time they spoke.

In a last ditch attempt at locating the man, he visited the refectory during dinner, scanning the room carefully from the periphery, trying to avoid curious eyes. There, he had finally seen him from a distance—he seemed to be in some deep conversation with his own padawan. Sensing his presence, Anakin turned and they locked eyes briefly, but he barely acknowledged him and continued his conversation with Ahsoka, eventually turning his back towards Obi-Wan. That was clear enough.

So Obi-Wan had gone to the transformation chamber alone to get back his old face—or, as close to it as he could get—then made his way back to his apartment and waited, hoping that Anakin would stop by. He never did.

Then the next morning, he had gotten word the knight had left early for a mission in the Outer Rim. And had done so without saying goodbye.

It had been twenty eight days since Obi-Wan had returned to the Temple. Twenty seven since he had last seen Anakin.

#

After the transformation, Obi-Wan avoided his own reflection for nearly a day. After staring at Rako Hardeen for so long, he didn’t want to look in the mirror and still see him. But he was just as wary of the ‘new old’ face he'd find staring back at him. It had been years and years since he had been completely clean-shaven or had short hair—he really didn't know if he could handle looking like a padawan once more. He knew, logically, he wouldn't look the same, but in his less self-assured moments, he still felt the same—even going so far as to wish he still could ask for some of his old master’s guidance, as harebrained as it could be sometimes.

He recoiled slightly when he finally saw his face—gone, thankfully, were the harsh red facial tattoos and the too-angular jawline, but his completely bald head and beardless face remained. Mace was right, he had been rather ugly. He chuckled to himself as he stroked his jaw and chin, missing the sensation of his beard against his own fingertips, then tilted his head back and forth, up and down, taking it all in. This was actually worse than being a padawan.

It would all grow back—of course it would—but he'd need some patience until then.

He found himself suddenly wondering what Anakin would think. Would he like it at all? Or would it remind him of when they first met—of all they went through on Naboo and after…? Or instead, would it be a constant reminder of the Hardeen mission and what had transpired between them?

Not that it mattered much when he had no idea when he'd see him again. Perhaps all his hair would be grown out by then.

Then there was the matter of if Anakin would even want to talk to him. And if he didn’t want to even talk to him, then he’d certainly not want a gentle touch, a kiss, or anything more than that.

Obi-Wan rubbed his hand back and forth across his bald dome and frowned. He leaned in closer and narrowed his eyes, taking in the lines around his eyes and his mouth. How long had they been there? Were they always so prominent? Like the moles and scars on his face that were also more visible without any hair to detract from their presence.

He never thought of himself as particularly vain (he’d call it more fastidious), but as he stared at his reflection, he found himself briefly unhappy. He could probably stand never having a beard again, but he needed hair—Mace could pull it off, he could not.

He backed away from the mirror, straightening his tabards and suddenly realized it wasn't his lack of hair that made him unhappy—it was just hair, you’re being ridiculous. No, it was Anakin and the way he had snubbed and completely avoided him, then left.

But time and the war went on.

He had his own missions, tasks, and meetings, and his hair grew until his head was covered in a short, soft fuzz, the sandy-blond color that he was told glinted red in the sunlight. It was a bit shorter now than when he had met Anakin, and his beard a scratchy stubble.

He stroked his chin as he made his tea one afternoon, wistfully thinking about how Anakin would probably complain about kissing him now, about how rough and scratchy his face would be. He found himself wishing to even have a chance to hear him refuse.

He eventually managed to talk to him twice in the near-month he had been away, but it was very brief and clinical, necessary conversations about the mission and the war. There was no time for any kind of explanation, and there certainly were no kind or soft words—even as friends. Their conversations were stiff but thankfully civil.

Obi-Wan found himself aching with the void.

#

On the twenty-ninth rotation since he had bade Hardeen farewell, he finally felt a tug on their bond. So light and quick it was, he almost missed it. He looked up from his datapad and out the window to the bustling Coruscant skies. Before he could stop himself, he hesitantly sent back a wave of comfort, I am here. Wherever Anakin was, Obi-Wan would always be there, always ready to meet or talk. He wasn't sure if Anakin would outright reject it, but he had to try.

He jumped up from his couch when he finally felt the younger man’s presence close by, and turned just in time to see the door slide open. Anakin stood in the doorway fully dressed in his usual dark Jedi robes, his long dark cloak wrapped around him. His hair was a bit longer and slightly wilder than it had been the last time Obi-Wan had seen him, no doubt he was due for a trim. The most concerning were the darker circles under his eyes, and Obi-Wan wondered if he had slept at all since he had been gone. But none of these things were as out of the ordinary as the facial hair he was sporting.

Obi-Wan had seen him attempt to grow a beard a few times, but Anakin had always given up fairly quickly and shaved, complaining that it itched too much as it grew. The stubble he wore now made him look older than his 22 years, and it added a certain rakish charm. In that moment, it amused Obi-Wan to think that perhaps he would be confused for the padawan out of the pair of them.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin breathed out, not moving from his spot in the doorway. Just saying his name felt like an impossible thing.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan replied softly, unsure of what else to say.

They kept their eyes locked on each other as he took a single step in, finally clearing the door so it would shut. As he stood there, he clasped his hands in front of his stomach, and Obi-Wan knew he was fiddling with his fingers under the voluminous sleeves.

"You're home." Home. That's what Anakin had always felt like to him, and the Temple had felt emptier lately without him there. But did he feel the same way? Or had their relationship been irreparably harmed?

"Yes," came the curt reply. Anakin's eyes shifted around the room, as if taking it in for the first time despite it being something of a second home to him for well over a decade. He shifted from foot to foot.

"I'm glad," Obi-Wan smiled tenderly but remained in place. He was afraid of moving and spooking the younger man.

Without any sort of acknowledgement, Anakin slipped off his cloak and hung it up on the hooks by the door. Right next to Obi-Wan’s. Right next to the cloak Anakin had given him one Life Day—a fine cloak woven from the best material Tatooine could provide. He shouldn't really have a favorite possession, but it was his favorite cloak.

"How long are you--"

"I don't know, " Anakin said, brusquely, cutting off Obi-Wan’s innocent question.

We need to talk, he wanted to say. I missed you, I love you, he wanted to say more than anything. Instead: "You have a beard."

"You don't."

Obi-Wan huffed, rubbing at the short stubble one again. "Well it isn't for lack of trying, I assure you."

"I thought you were dead." Anakin said, going straight for the bantha in the room as he took several more steps in. Obi-Wan remained firmly in place. Then more softly, barely above a whisper, "I buried you, Obi-Wan."

"Anakin…" He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He grabbed the hem of his tunic between thumb and forefinger, then curled his socked toes into the rug as an anchor. He exhaled. Anakin didn't give him a chance to finish it.

He swayed backwards, barely holding ground, as his former padawan launched himself bodily at him, circling his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck—even though he was several inches taller. Obi-Wan held his arms up, hesitant to even touch until he heard the sob, then he wrapped them around Anakin's back, pulling him into a warm embrace. This was home.

He reached up and stroked Anakin's wild curls with one hand and breathed out, "I've missed you." He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the side of Anakin's head, inhaling his scent. He must have come straight off the cruiser without taking time to clean up—he smelled like dirt, sweat, and stale recycled air, but underneath, unmistakably his Anakin.

He ran his hand soothingly up and down Anakin's back as he cried. He wasn't noisy, but Obi-Wan felt every shake and dramatic intake of breath.

When the crying subsided a bit, Obi-Wan pulled away, and Anakin kept his head bowed as he wiped at his eyes and nose. As he bent his head to look at him, he put a finger under his chin to tilt it up. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and I'll make us some tea?" Anakin nodded slowly, still not lifting his eyes to look at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan reached up and cupped his jaw and rubbed his thumb across his bearded cheek—it was a strange sensation on his Anakin. He smiled to himself when he noticed it was patchy in places. Anakin finally looked up at him, red-rimmed blue eyes made glassy and bright with tears.

"I'm not sure about the beard," he said with a grin hoping it would bring Anakin a little smile, too. But he just stared at him, eyes roaming across his face then to his hair. Obi-Wan could feel the scrutiny and braced himself for the comments.

Anakin wordlessly reached up and gently ran his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. His eyes fluttered shut. Anakin ran his hand back and forth a few times, enjoying the feeling of the soft, short spikes under his palm, then finally dropped his hand, unconcerned about the beard. "I'm not sure about the hair."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. "Well, I assure you, I'm working on that, too." That finally earned him a slight smile from his dear friend, even though they were still tiptoeing around each other and the issue at large.

Anakin sniffled once more then walked over to the couch and sat to pull off his boots. He let them fall where they may then stood again and made his way to Obi-Wan’s fresher, discarding items of clothing as he went. Obi-Wan sighed as he bent to pick up the boots and moved them underneath his cloak. He didn’t know where they would go from here, but this was a start.

#

Anakin had left the door to the fresher open which usually would have been an invitation, but Obi-Wan saw it now, at the very least, as Anakin not completely shutting him out. For that he was grateful. Forgoing the tea for the moment, he pulled off his own boots, and laid down on his bed, listening to the gentle noises of the shower.

While Anakin was gone, Obi-Wan had had ample time to think and meditate on what he wanted to say, but now that he was back, he was finding it difficult to know where to start.

At first, he found himself frustrated that Anakin just took off before they had a chance to talk. And hurt. Especially that he took off without a simple goodbye. Anything could have happened to either of them. But he didn’t want to begin with an accusation.

He couldn't promise not to take any more clandestine missions, and he wouldn’t apologize for taking this one—his duty had demanded it and they had saved the Chancellor. He knew Anakin would have done the same, especially as the Chancellor was his friend, even if he couldn’t admit it. But he was sorry that he had to fake his death to do it.

He and Ahsoka had had a good, long talk about it, and in the end he had felt closer to her than ever. Even though she was Anakin's padawan, he always felt so keenly that he, too, was personally responsible for her and cared for her as such. He had been proud of her accomplishments and achievements as she grew right before their eyes.

He had also taken time with Commander Cody, who understood better than anyone what Obi-Wan had to do for the mission. Obi-Wan had been sorry to learn that Cody and the 212th had been sent off on another mission before Obi-Wan’s ‘funeral,’ but Cody had never truly believed it anyway, and thus went about his own duties, positive that he'd see his friend and general again. That had made Obi-Wan feel somewhat better.

Obi-Wan was drawn from his reverie when Anakin coughed lightly from where he stood leaning in the doorway to the fresher. He was clad in black sleep pants and nothing else, arms crossed across his muscular chest. His hair looked darker than usual as it hung limp and damp around his face. Obi-Wan glanced at him from where he lay relaxing, one arm tucked behind his head. He could have waited in the living room, but he had preferred to stay close by. Still, the distance between them felt chasmic.

"Feeling better?"

Anakin hesitated then shrugged one shoulder, “A bit.” Then he rubbed at his jaw. "I think I want to shave though."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, surprised he hadn't just done it while he was showering. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Well if you'd still like some tea, I can go--"

"I want you to shave me." Obi-Wan didn't know why the request startled him, but it did. He looked up and considered the younger man, who just stood there and stared at him.

"Oh?" Was the only reply he could manage.

Anakin turned slightly to head back in the fresher then beckoned Obi-Wan over with a tilt of his head. "C'mon, old man, make yourself useful." Obi-Wan smiled at the endearment and made his way towards Anakin.

#

Obi-Wan was alive. He was here and real and whole. For a little over a month, he had dreamt of Obi-Wan being killed in a myriad of ways with Anakin always left holding him in his arms, feeling his life and light leaving him. Even in his dreams, their bond severing was a painful thing. So he had kept it shut tight in order to not feel a thing—good or bad.

He hadn’t felt his master’s warmth since he had ‘died,’ and he missed it. It was more accurate to say he felt bereft. He hadn’t realized how much he had relied on it being a part of him until he no longer had it.

He had not handled Obi-Wan’s death well, not at all, but how could he? Nor had he handled it well when he found out Obi-Wan was alive. Or when he had explained the mission.

Then he saw him in the refectory at dinner and knew immediately he still needed time. Seeing that bastard’s face in Obi-Wan’s clothes was too much to handle, so he ran away to the Outer Rim. He knew it was Obi-Wan then, but he wondered if that face would forever haunt his dreams.

He had spent time talking to Captain Rex and his own padawan while he was away, but he was still far from forgiveness. He tried to meditate, but he had never been very good at that in general. He was always better at it when Obi-Wan was within reach anyway, when Obi-Wan could envelop him in his own warm Force signature. He struggled to control his emotions and feelings no matter what he did, and found his thoughts always returning to his old master even though he wanted to forget and move on.

In his worst moments, he vacillated between never wanting to see him again and never wanting to let him out of his sight.

And now, with Obi-Wan sitting right in front of him, he wanted to gather him into his arms. But he couldn’t imagine touching him again. He wanted to kiss him until he had covered every inch of skin and his own lips were chapped red. He wanted to yell at him until he could no longer use his voice. He wanted to sit down on his couch with him and suffer politely through a holodrama and a cup of tea. He wanted to spar and fight, get Obi-Wan on his knees, begging for his mercy—and his forgiveness.

He didn't know what to do or say. He felt frozen with indecision.

So instead, he merely stood between Obi-Wan’s spread legs as he sat on the counter of his fresher, slowly applying a worked lather to his jaw with his calloused fingertips. Anakin fought to keep his eyes open under Obi-Wan’s touch. He had missed it, dreamt about it, craved it; he had been a man wandering the desert for the last month, and Obi-Wan was his oasis.

His arms hung uselessly at his sides, unsure what to do with them. Normally his hands would have been all over Obi-Wan, touching him anywhere he would allow, but now he was uncertain. He carefully watched the older man's face as he tilted Anakin’s chin to the right, then slowly dragged the razor across his jaw, scraping away the layer of shaving cream there.

Obi-Wan was concentrating so hard on not cutting Anakin that he felt he had more of an opportunity to stare openly at his master's beloved—even now he was still his most beloved—face. Even as different as it was.

He was just grateful it was his face.

He looked so unlike the fastidious Jedi Master, Councilor and High General he'd become in the last couple of years. It was throwing Anakin off that he actually looked so much like the padawan Anakin had met aboard the Nabooian cruiser as they hurriedly lifted off Tatooine 13 years ago. The same soft blue eyes, the same length hair, the same dimpled cheeks and chin no longer hidden behind a beard, the same mole on his forehead, except… Now his eyes were lined, the corners crinkling when he smiled; his temples—though the hair was still shorn so short—were noticeably grey. There were also some new dark circles under his eyes, and when he pressed his lips thin in concentration, there were lines at the downturned corners of his mouth.

When had his master gotten old?

Perhaps that wasn't fair—he was only 37, nearly 38, but the war was aging him. These sorts of missions were aging him. The war was aging all of them. None of it was fair.

Whereas he could barely look at him before, he now found himself unable to look away from his still mostly beard-less face. He was so very handsome, he always had been, but his beard did hide his lovely visage. Obi-Wan was deep in concentration trying not to cut him, but he very selfishly wanted those blue eyes on him.

Anakin lifted his hands and set them gently on the tops of Obi-Wan’s thighs and squeezed lightly, waiting for the reaction. Obi-Wan startled and nicked the cheek he was shaving which caused Anakin to hiss.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan put the razor down quickly and grabbed the towel next to his leg. Anakin didn't remove either hand, despite his bleeding cheek. He liked too much the feel of muscle flexing under his hands as Obi-Wan shifted around. Obi-Wan curled his left hand around Anakin's neck then pressed the towel to his cheek with his right. "I'm so sorry, my dear. You startled me."

"S’ok," Anakin replied, careful not to move his mouth much because of the shaving cream. He was not the least bit concerned about a tiny nick when they all came home with new scars after every battle.

But Obi-Wan’s eyes were finally on him just like he wanted. Anakin held his gaze for what felt like an eternity until Obi-Wan looked away again to check the cut.

Anakin slowly slid his hands up Obi-Wan’s thighs until they came to rest on his hips. He stroked his sides with his thumbs, realizing how much he actually missed his touch. Look at me, he sent across their bond. Obi-Wan's eyes locked with his again, and if he hadn't been paying attention, he would have missed the way Obi-Wan tensed.

Not too long ago, he was sure this was lost to him forever. He'd never see, touch, or kiss his face again. Never hold him. Never hear his own name on those lips, whether it followed a scold or a whispered 'I love you.' And now here he was, sitting in front of him, as real as anything else—solid under his fingertips—but he was afraid he was a mirage or a ghost.

Obi-Wan finally removed the towel and looked down to rinse the razor in the sink. He hesitated briefly before bringing the razor back to his face and continuing. He continued to take in Obi-Wan’s face as he concentrated—every line, freckle, thread of grey in his barely-there beard and hair. When Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, Anakin wanted to press kisses to the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"I take it there's something on my face?" Obi-Wan broke the silence as he rinsed the razor once more. He looked back at Anakin and huffed a laugh at his half-shaved face. He slowly and carefully dragged the razor around Anakin's mouth, down his upper lip then his chin. With the shaving cream finally cleared from around his mouth, Anakin felt it was safe to talk.

"No, nothing so awful as that." He reached up and gently stroked the corner of Obi-Wan’s left eye with feather-light fingertips. "Just wondering when you got these."

Obi-Wan hummed, his smile fading. "I surely couldn't tell you, it feels like one day I just woke up and they were there."

When Obi-Wan moved to rinse again, Anakin leaned forward quickly and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek right below his eye. Obi-Wan watched him while he used his thumb to wipe off the shaving cream he left behind.

"Sorry, I-- I just wanted to do that." He looked down, sheepish, feeling ridiculous. Obi-Wan felt like a stranger. And he hated it.

"There's no need to apologize," Obi-Wan said as he lifted his chin and finished shaving the last few patches. He cleared his throat, "Actually… I assumed you wouldn't want to anymore." He finally took the towel and wiped down Anakin's face to clean off the last bit of shaving cream. "There."

Anakin frowned as their eyes met once again. Obi-Wan's were warm but sad, and Anakin didn't know what to say. They both needed to say things, but not even the famed ‘Negotiator’ had the right words to say.

Anakin leaned to the side to look in the small mirror, his hands moving to wrap around the tops of Obi-Wan’s thighs once more, not ready to let go. He tilted his face side to side to check Obi-Wan’s handiwork. "Not bad." Obi-Wan huffed and Anakin fixed a warm gaze on him again. He moved around Obi-Wan and turned on the water to clean his face. Obi-Wan stayed in place until he reached out and tucked some wayward curls behind his ear, gently pinching his earlobe before removing his hand completely.

"Your hair is getting quite long, too—do you want me to trim it?"

Anakin finished rinsing his face and stood, grabbing the hand towel to dry it. He pulled it down his face roughly, then looked down at Obi-Wan who was staring up at him, a tender but inscrutable expression on his face. "No, I don't want you to trim it, you don’t like it?”

"No, no, I like it," Obi-Wan shifted as if he was about to get down but Anakin placed a hand on his shoulder—he wasn't through with him yet.

He pushed Obi-Wan’s knees apart and repositioned himself between them. He cupped his jaw with one flesh hand, one metal hand, gold-tipped fingers lightly grazing his ginger beard. They watched each other for what felt like an eternity, then he leaned forward and pressed his newly-shaved cheek against his master’s. Obi-Wan remained still—Anakin's cool skin was like a balm against his own warm skin. He rubbed his face gently against Obi-Wan’s then switched sides to do the other cheek. He finally felt the muscles in Obi-Wan's face pull into a smile.

"And what are you doing, my dear?" He asked, fondness creeping into his voice. He always loved playful Anakin—whenever he got a chance to be that way.

"I'm letting you feel your handiwork. Don't you think it's nice?"

Obi-Wan hummed again, "I suppose it's alright." Anakin pulled away quickly in mock offense. Obi-wan chuckled as he reached out and toyed with the drawstring on Anakin's sleep pants, his smile fading once more. Anakin's fingers twitched against Obi-Wan’s cheek. "Anakin, we have to…" Obi-Wan started but was cut off by the press of cool lips against his own. No fire or want, just soft but hesitant tenderness.

Despite the hesitancy, the familiarity and nearness of Anakin was what he had missed the most. Anakin pressed gentle kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his greying temples… But Obi-Wan wanted him still closer, needed him even closer. He placed his hands on the warm skin of his hips and pulled, which encouraged Anakin to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan’s back. They pulled at each other until their chests were pressed together. Obi-Wan sighed at the feel of that enveloping, solid warmth.

Anakin finally pulled away and straightened to his full height which allowed Obi-Wan to lean forward and tuck his head under his chin. It felt so nice to hold and be held once again.

“I missed you, I missed this,” Anakin said quietly. More than you can ever know, went unsaid.

“As did I,” Obi-Wan mumbled into his chest. “Please don’t leave again without saying goodbye.” He felt Anakin nod rather than say anything.

Anakin wanted to say the same, but the words were stuck in his throat. Their conversation could wait a little while longer. The tea could also wait. Right now, Obi-Wan was alive and in his arms, and he would never let him go again.

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life 3

Find my masterlist

Part 3 people!! And guess what? We’re finally meeting some of our faves here! 

This will be Din Djarin x f!reader. Eventually. Give it time.

Warnings: I don’t even think there’s swearing in this chapter. 

Chapter three: In which there is a wizard

A soft weight settling on your lap woke you up. Well, partially woke you. You didn’t open your eyes as you murmured, “Not time yet ‘Mer.” It was definitely Omera. Cara would never be so gentle trying to rouse you.

A gentle coo made you blink, then your eyes flew open and you sat bolt upright, and then immediately slouched back into the chair with a groan of pain. Oh, ow. Your everything hurt. 

A giggle from your lap caught your attention again, and you carefully blinked down at your lap. A small child was settled happily in your lap, looking up at you with large brown eyes. He smiled and giggled again. Your heart melted, just a little.

“And who are you, little one?” you murmured. “Are you here by yourself?” You looked around, one hand carefully cupped against the kid’s back to hold him steady. But there was no other sign of life around.

“Finally awake again,” the fire grumbled, rousing from slumber and stretching up towards the ceiling. “Took you long enough!”

For a moment, just a moment, you stared at the fire. That had been real, not a weird dream. All of it was real. The curse. The witch. All of it. You were in the moving castle. 

“Don’t mind the kid,” the fire told you. “He’s Djarin’s ward. I think. Or adopted son. I don’t really keep track.”

“Djarin?” You stumbled a little over the unfamiliar word.

“The wizard?” The fire prompted you, sounding a little derogatory. “You don’t even know the wizard’s name?”

You shrugged, carefully, and rearranged the kid to be more comfortable in your lap. “Nobody in Kalevala knows his name,” you pointed out, perhaps a touch defensive. “We all just called him the Wizard of the Moving Castle, or something like that.”

“Ha!” The fire snorted, sending sparks all over the place. You yelped and swatted at a stray one near your skirt. “How pretentious! I can’t decide if he’d love it or hate it.” 

“What should I call the little one?” You smiled down at the child, who beamed right back at you.

“Dunno. Mostly Djarin just calls him kid.”

The kid looked around at that. You had the feeling that he understood a lot more of what was going on than he let on. Then he grabbed a handful of your skirt and started playing with it, apparently content to stay where he was. 

“Hey, we still on?” Peli demanded suddenly. “Our deal. You’re still going to work on it, right?”

You stood, carefully holding the kid to you so he wouldn’t be harmed. The little darling immediately cuddled into you with a little huff. “I don’t know how much help I can be. I’m not a witch.”

“You don’t need to be.” Peli smiled, and it showed far too many pointy teeth for a fire. Far too many pointy teeth in general, actually, now that you thought about it. “You’ll figure it out, you seem smart.”

Something about Peli’s words had little alarm bells going off in your mind. “What do you mean, figure it out?”

“Well, I can’t just tell you,” Peli hissed. “That’s against the rules. Even I can’t break the rules. Nobody can. But! There will be hints. All you need to do is stick around for a little while, and once you figure it out, I’ll lift the curse on you!”

You considered for a few moments. Really, that didn’t sound awful. You’d have to think of a convincing reason to stay in the castle. But either Peli would help you, or wizard Djarin would. You still couldn’t exactly go back to your shop, not with the way you looked. So while this hadn’t been part of your plan, it wasn’t bad. There were no major downsides that you could see.

“Alright,” you agreed. “It’s a deal.”

Peli grinned at that. “You’ll need to give Djarin a reason for staying.”

You nodded your agreement and started to carefully walk around, looking around the room for inspiration. The room wasn’t messy, really, but it was a bit cluttered. And a bit dusty. 

“I could be his housekeeper?” you suggested.

“Not a chance,” Peli said with a snort. “He’d throw you out in an instant. Stubborn man.”

You frowned at the fire briefly before you continued your exploration. There was a little kitchenette attached to the main space, and before long you had a kettle and tea. “I could cook?”

“Nah, he does some of that himself.” Peli eyed you as you poured water into the kettle. “What are you doing?” 

“Making tea.” You tone said that this really should be obvious. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Peli immediately protested. “No! I refuse! That is blatant abuse!”

“I don’t see any other fireplaces,” you pointed out. “And I want a cup of tea. Actually, the little one could do with some breakfast, too.” You turned appraising eyes to the kid, who was still propped happily against your shoulder. He blinked at you and burbled, one little hand reaching over to pat your cheek gently. Your heart melted a little more. 

“No,” Peli repeated, eyes wide. “No!”

“This won’t hurt you,” you told her, well used to tantrums from both your sisters and your niece. “Just bend down your head a little.”

Peli made an odd hissing, crackling noise as you plonked the kettle down over the fire to heat. Satisfied, you hobbled off to grab the frying pan and eggs. Everyone liked eggs. (Hopefully the kid liked eggs.) 

“That’s right,” you muttered as you plonked the fry pan down too. “Good fire.”

“Here’s another curse for you,” Peli muttered bitterly, blue eyes staring at you. “May all your cooking burn.”

You hummed quietly as you worked, and the kid behaved remarkably well. Cooking one-handed was a little slower, but the kid didn’t want to be put down, with one hand fisted in your dress and the other half-shoved in his own mouth. Every time you looked at him, those big brown eyes were looking right back at you. Really, it should be illegal for children to be this cute. 

The door creaked open behind you as you were cracking eggs into the fry pan. You stiffened but didn’t turn to look, instead focusing on the eggs. You stirred the eggs carefully, waiting for something to happen. The kid babbled something incoherent and turned to look at the new person, but didn’t let go of you.

“Peli.” The voice was low and rough, and definitely male. 

“You’re back!” Peli wiggled under the fry pan. “Make her stop, she’s awful!”

A presence stopped next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw dark fabric and metal armor. Again with the armor. Maybe it was a witch and wizard thing? Hadn’t the witch been wearing armor when she cursed you? Curious. The person was male, and taller than you (easier than ever, since you seem to have shrunk a few inches in your new old age). He was also eerily, disconcertingly quiet. 

“What is going on?” he finally asked, voice a little raspy. 

“She’s abusing me!” Peli immediately burst out. The kid in your arms cooed and laid fully against your shoulder, grabbing a handful of hair in his grabby little hand. You huffed and carefully shuffled egg onto a plate for the kid. 

“Eggs?” you offered the wizard blithely. “Figured the little one could use some breakfast.”

The wizard didn’t respond, but the helmet slowly moved to look at Peli instead. “Who let her in?” he demanded.

“Nobody, she just wandered in on her own,” Peli answered. “Somewhere between Kalevala and Tattooine.” 

“Just wandered in,” he repeated slowly. The helmet shifted focus to you.

You shrugged, careful not to disturb the child, and managed to balance two plates over to the table. Wizard Djarin followed you. 

“I was looking for a new job,” you told him, on the fly. That was not true, but somehow you’d stumbled into a job all the same. “You really shouldn’t leave such a young one home alone, you know. They’ll get into all sorts of mischief. My niece is only a little older than this one, and she was a fright! Used to try to put herself in one of the ovens if my sister didn’t have an eye on her.” You chuckled. That was absolutely true - Winta, Omera’s daughter, had been a right terror as a toddler, and had run the entire bakery staff into the ground. 

The wizard looked at you, his helmet tipped slightly to one side, apparently deep in thought. Letting him look his fill, you set the child down at the table with a clean spoon you found. Fortunately, he was able to feed himself, though he seemingly narrated the entire process to you. You hummed when it seemed appropriate and nodded along with him. Honestly, small children were sometimes good like this, entertaining themselves and you. Win-win. 

“You’re good with him.”

You jumped. You hadn’t expected the wizard to speak, and you blinked up at him. “He’s a sweet little one,” you answered carefully. 

The wizard nodded once. When the kettle whistled, he waved you to stay where you were and retrieved the kettle himself, pouring the hot water into the teapot. You blinked, surprised, but didn’t object. As soon as all the cooking objects were away from the fire, Peli sprung back up towards the ceiling, seemingly stretching out and complaining, though nobody paid much attention to the words. (Well, you certainly didn’t, and it didn’t seem that Djarin was paying attention either.) 

The rest of breakfast passed quietly. The kid ate and then slid off his chair to go wrap himself around the wizard, who picked him up easily and carried him off. You cleaned up after breakfast and then did a bit of tidying (and conveniently poked your nose into various cubbies and drawers, just in case there were any convenient hints laying about). 

It wasn’t longer than an hour before the wizard returned and handed the kid to you again. You took the kid, blinking up at the wizard.

“I won’t be long,” he said, helmet focused on the two of you. “Stay with the kid.”

You nodded, momentarily perplexed, and watched as Djarin walked to the door. He turned a knob next to the door, one you hadn’t noticed before, and opened the door. Instead of seeing the expected hills of the countryside around Kalevala, or even the sandy wastes of Tattooine, you saw… a town? It was a different style of architecture than Kalevala, and you thought you heard birds, but different birds than you’d ever heard in your life.

But the view you had was brief, as Djarin stepped out through the door and shut it firmly behind him.

[dcbutinamrev]

LAMS LAMS HISTORICAL LAMS ONESHOT!

Of course, anon! There wasn't any specifics for this one which is no worries, so I decided to go with the duel between Laurens and Charles Lee cause why not?

***

Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton gasps sharply when he hears the front door to the aide-de-camp office on the mid-morning of December 24, 1778. Valley Forge still covered in a blanket of snow, flakes still fluttering from the overcast, gray-clouded sky, a soft breeze blows through the office, making the room colder than before which causes Hamilton to shiver and his teeth chatter slightly. Hamilton stands up abruptly from his wooden chair, the legs of the chair squeaking against the hard wood floor as it scoots back. Hamilton's silver, moonlight violet eyes widens at the sight of a seething Laurens in front of him. The fellow aides, Richard Kidder Meade, Tench Tilghman, Robert Harrison, John Fitzgerald and even the Marquis de Lafayette all stand as well at the sudden dramatic entrance.

Hamilton stares at Laurens for a breath, blinking once, twice before rushing over towards him, gripping both of Laurens's trembling hands in his, wondering just what had gotten Laurens so upset. He has seen Laurens angered before but not seething as though Hamilton could feel his blood boiling, like a kettle whistling.

Hamilton places a hand on Laurens's muscular bicep, drawing Laurens's attention away from the front door. He stares at Hamilton confusedly, blinking as he starts to become calm instantly, feeling all his burdens wash away as he gazes at his Hamilton before him, Laurens's sky-blue vibrant eyes ticking down to their clasped hands and then to Hamilton's soft, thin pink lips before back to his stunning eyes.

"Laurens? Are you...are you alright?" Hamilton finally manages to gasp, though he knows the answer. He just can't help but ask.

Laurens coughs as he starts to become calm once more, sniffling due to allergies from the cold before fully stepping into the parlor, yanking his hands away from Hamilton's and growling low and deep from the back of his throat. Like thunder rumbling.

"My God, Laurens!" Meade gasps, rounding the corner of the table behind Harrison and the Marquis to try to help Hamilton calm him. "Where the hell have you been?! What the hell happened?!"

Laurens continues to growl like a dog, baring his teeth as he glares at the closed front door, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides, itching to punch something--to release his anger and frustration--his eye twitching as he heaves, pacing back and forth, shaking his head.

"What--" McHenry gasps, startled as he just enters the room from the kitchen with a cup of tea in his hands.

Laurens feels as though he's about to roar and spins around in a sharp circle only then to punch the brick wall. Laurens groans and hisses sharply as he cradles his now injured hand, cursing silently to himself as he stares at the scrapes of fresh dark crimson blood oozing from his knuckles.

"Mon ami!" the Marquis cries at the same time Hamilton yelps, "Laurens!"

Hamilton rushes towards him again, cupping Laurens's now wounded hand in his own and with his free hand, yanking his neck cloth off and wrapping it around Laurens's palm and knuckles.

"John," Hamitlon whispers, so only Laurens could here. This catches Laurens's attention as he turns to Hamilton instantly coming back to the present. "What happened?"

"General Lee happened," Laurens grumbles, narrowing his eyes at the front door as he scrunches up his nose in a tight scowl.

"General Lee?" the Marquis asks, resting a hand on Laurens's shoulder, comfortingly. "What about him?"

Before Laurens could say a word, Hamilton drags Laurens to the sette in the living room, forcing him to sit and Hamilton flops down himself beside him, his thumb rubbing descreetly over the tendons of Laurens's hand. The Marquis sits himself on Laurens's right and the other aides watches with concern and confusion from the office.

"Lee...General Lee, I mean...he uh...he had insulted General Washington," Laurens explains.

Hamilton gasps, eyes widen. "Insulted? Our General?"

"Yes, Hamilton, are you deaf?!" Laurens snaps. "Do I need to repeat it?"

Hamilton sets his jaw, clamping his mouth shut as he sits taller somehow, squaring his shoulders and raising an eyebrow challengingly at Laurens, his chest puffing out as he cocks his head to one shoulder. Making him look like the Little Lion he is.

Laurens clamps his mouth shut, gritting teeth as he sets his jaw, tipping his down as if being scolded by a parent.

"I understand your anger, John," Hamilton whispers, his finegrs itching to tuck back the loose whisp of honey blonde hair that's dangling in front of Laurens's ear behind his ear in comfort. "But there is no need to use such tone at me."

Laurens puffs out a sigh, leaning back so his head rests against the sette, staring up at the ceiling as he closes his eyes.

"My apologies, Alexnader," Laurens sighs. "It's just...what he said about he said about General Washington--"

"Which was what?" Tilghman wonders.

"He...he called the General..." Laurens grimaces and swallows as he speaks. "A 'dirty earwig' for turning against him."

"Does His Excellency know about this?" Harrison growls.

Laurens shakes his head. "No. Not yet, at least, and I'd rather much prefer it be a secret between us at the moment."

A pause.

"And not to mention for disobidence and being a coward at Monmouth and retreating when he had the oppurtunity to attack the British."

Hamilton grimaces and tightens his hold around Laurens's larger hand, remembering the chaos of that day in June, with the blistering heat making the wool of their coats and clothes stick to their skin and their fingers slick with sweat and the fall Hamilton had taken after his horse fell beneath from a gunshot wound.

Hamilton stands up suddenly, dragging Laurens up with him. Laurens’s tense shoulders slumps as he’s reluctantly forced to being dragged up the wooden stairs to their shared bedroom, Hamilton exclaming to the others over his shoulder that he’s going to escort Laurens to his quarters for the night to allow himself some time to rest. Hamilton pushes Laurens into the room gently and closes the door behind him, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding until he hears a soft, audible, satisfying click. 

Hamilton stares at the silver knob, his hand hovering over it gently. He tenses, breathing in sharply through his nose as he could feel Laurens’s presence directly behind him. Hamilton swallows the lump in his throat, licking his dry, chapped lips. Dry from the lack of kisses Laurens has yet to give him due to seperation most of the day. 

“Finally,” Laurens sighs when Hamilton finally turns around to face. Hamilton smiles sheepishly as he crosses his thin arms over himself and takes three steps towards Laurens. Laurens puffs out a breath as he grips one of Hamilton’s elbows, tucking a loose dark red curl behind his ear. “I have missed you.” 

Hamilton giggles, leaning up by his toes to reach Laurens’s soft, heart-shaped pink lips. Laurens sighs happily as he kisses back, just a simple quick little peck. 

“Happy Christmas Eve, my dear boy,” Laurens whispers breathily against Hamilton’s lips, his teeth grazing over them, wanting an invitaiton. 

Hamilton smiles, the corners of his lips tugging upwards as the tip of his nose nudges agaisnt Laurens, opening his mouth for Laurens. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Hamilton giggles as Laurens pulls back from the kiss, pulling back a little to get a view of Hamilton’s beautiful face with an angled jawline and feminine, freckled cheeks and hair red as fire pulled back into a rather unkept braid and of course, the dark purple of Hamilton’s eyes--almost silver now due to the sun glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Hamilton leans up to steal a kiss, surprising Laurens entirely. “Happy Christmas Eve my dear Laurens.” 

Laurens chuckles, gripping his hold on Hamilton’s slim waist tighter, causing Hamilton’s breath to hitch as he rests both hands flat on Laurens’s chest, his head right underneath Laurens’s chin. 

“What has really gotten you this upset?” Hamilton whispers, tipping his head up to meet Laurens’s eyes. “I’ve never seen you this angry before.” 

Laurens hums as he shifts a little closer so his chest is near Hamilton’s, resting his cheek on Hamilton’s brow. 

“I told you, Alexander,” Laurens says. “Lee happened. HIs inuslts not only of His Excellency but me.” A breathy pause. Laurens grits his teeth. “And you.” 

Hamilton grimaces. He wants to ask Laurens what the insults had said, but thinks better of himself and keeps his mouth shut and just simply listens. 

“Alexander, my love,” Laurens says, pulling back from the embrace to grasp hold of Hamilton’s small hands in his slightly larger one. Hamilton tips his head up. “I have something to ask of you and you’re not going to like it.” 

Hamilton stands somehow taller, his shoulders squared and eyebrows raised high challengingly, a sign for Laurens to continue. 

“I um...I...I um...I uh...” Laurens stutters, scratching the back of his neck. 

Hamilton frowns, furrowing his brows together as he knows Laurens is not the person to stutter. 

He’s probably going to kill me, Laurens thinks to himself as he glances back to Hamilton’s divine eyes and sharp features. Okay, Laurens, plan of action of here... 

“I uh...” Laurens says instead. “I um...” 

“John? Are you alright?” Hamilton asks. 

“I uh...” Laurens clears his throat, standing an inch taller. “I’d uh...I’d like you to be my second.” 

Hamilton stills, his eyes widening as he turns slowly to Laurens, raising only one eyebrow this time, his face paling as his heart thumps with fear and anxiety. He swallows. 

“Second?” 

“Yes.” 

“For what?” 

Laurens presses his lips together, swallows nervously, shifting around on his feet. He chews the inside of his cheek, wondering the best way to say the words would be without causing any drama. 

Laurens sighs defeatedly, hanging his head low as if he were merely a boy beging caught and scolded by his parent. 

“I...I challenged...I challenged...I challenged General Charles Lee to a duel...” A pause. “And I’d like you, my Alexander, to be my second.” 

Hamilton freezes completely, still as a tree trunk. His arms stiff at his sides, his stance taller than before, shoulders squared and eyes slowly widening. His face paling as he swallows, grittinng his teeth as he lets out a shaky breath. The very thought of his Laurens standing six paces in front of General Lee with his arm extended outstretched with his pistol in hand and a gunshot being heard terrifies him. 

“A...A...A duel...?” Hamilton chokes, slowly turning to Laurens as though he may be crazy. He just might be. “A duel?” 

“Yes,” Laurens says. “And I’d like you, Alexander, to be my second.” 

Hamilton laughs dryly, shaking his head as he closes his eyes. “No. No. No. No.” 

“Hamilton--” 

“No. Absolutely not,” Hamilton  huffs, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. He can see Laurens firing his pistol at Lee,  but missing completely as Hamilton can see a bullet ripping Laurens’s side, causing Laurens to cry out in agony, flinging backwards before collapsing completely. 

“Hamilton, please--” 

“No, John,” Hamilton snaps, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t...I won’t...” 

Laurens grabs Hamilton by the forearm roughly and pulls him close, smashing his lips onto his. Hamilton grunts with surprise but melts into the kiss nonetheless, huffing a sigh through his nose as he feels his tense arms go slack at his sides. Being totally helpless. 

“I’ll be safe. I promise you,” Laurens assures. Though, Hamilton doesn’t find that reassuring whatsoever. 

Hamilton shakes his head. “You can’t know that!” His voice cracks as his chest squeezes with pure fear. “You can’t! I just...We’ve only...” 

Laurens puts a finger up to Hamilton’s lips, shushing him. “Shh. Hush now. You trust me. Don’t you?” 

Hamilton tips his head up to lock Laurens’s eyes with his. “What if you get shot--” 

“Ah,ah,” Laurens says. “Answer my question. Do you trust me?” 

Hamilton swallows as he hesitates for a moment. In all honesty, he does trust him. Of course he does! But still... 

“I do,” Hamilton whispers breathlessly. 

Laurens smiles as he leans down to kiss Hamilton’s lips again. 

“Then know, in your heart, I’ll be alright.” 

Hamitlon bites his lip and nods. Laurens pulls back from their embrace and tucks a loose curl behind Hamilton’s ear. 

“What should you have me do now?” Laurens says. 

Hamilton grins, one corner of his lip turning up softly. He takes two steps closer so his chest is flushed once again with Laurens’s and tugs on Laurens’s lapels. 

“Kiss me,” Hamilton gasps agiainst Laurens’s lips. “Kiss me and make love to me as though it may be our last.” 

Laurens chuckles darkly and grins as he kisses Hamilton once more, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling Hamilton close as Hamilton loops his arms around Laurens’s neck, smiling into the kiss, deepening it. 

“Your wish is my command.” 

~~~ 

At half past three, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens make their way towards the woods just outside Philidelphia. The snow crunches underneath their boots with each step they take, Hamilton clutching onto Laurens’s hand at thier sides for as long as he is able, stopping occaisonally to steal a kiss or two. Laurens sighs when they reach the clearing, swallowing nervously as he bites his lower lip, eyeing Lee chatting to his own second: Evan Edwards. 

Laurens stops just outside the clearing, glancing over his shoulder as he grips both of Hamilton’s hands in his, bringing them up to his lips to press a kiss to each of his knuckles before lowering them at their sides. Hamilton grasps hold of one of Laurens’s hands in his as he reaches to cup Laurens’s cheek with the other, standing on his toes to steal a quick, chaste kiss before releasing him. Laurens sighs and pulls a miniature portrait of him and places it in Hamilton’s palm. He smiles softly as he meets Hamilton’s glittery eyes. Hamilton blinks, swallowing. 

“Here,” Laurens sighs. “Just in case.” 

Hamilton nods. “O-Okay...Okay...Thank you....Jack...you...you better...you better get going.” 

Laurens nods in agreement as he pushes Hamilton out into the clearing with his hand resting on the small of his back. Once Laurens comes into view, he instantly drops his hand and stands stiff and soldierly, narrowing his eyes at Lee. Laurens whispers quietly in Hamilton’s ear, “I love you, my dear boy.” 

Hamilton whimpers. swallowing thickly as he lets out a shaky breath. “I love you too, my dear Jack.” 

Edwards walks up to Laurens with the box, well it looks more like a wooden chest, the lid popped open to reveal a pistol inside. Only one remains inside meaning the second one must have been taken by none other than General Charles Lee. Laurens ticks his eyes towards Hamilton, who watches him anxiously, letting out nervous and shaky breaths with pure fear in his eyes, 

Laurens ticks his eyes back to the chest, staring down at the pistol. He presses his lips together, glancing at Hamilton one last time before snatching the pistol from the chest. Edwards snaps it shut and nervously fidgets on his heels as he stands between Laurens and Lee, watching the two readying thier pistols. 

Once the two have loaded their pistols. the two jerk their heads up sharply at the same time as Hamilton and Edwards discuss the course of action a few feet away. General Lee smiles cunningly. 

“Lieutenant Colonel,” General Lee hisses. 

Laurens scowls. “General Lee.” 

Silence.

“I do hope your precious General has heed my warning,” General Lee says. 

Laurens doesn’t answer as General Lee merely chuckles, clicking his teeth as he shakes his head. Laurens stiffens as he turns to Hamilton and Edwards. 

“What do you see in him?” General Lee says, turning back to Laurens. He turns back to the two again. “Hamilton?” 

Laurens stiffens at the mention of his Alexander’s name and tightens his hold on his pistol. Laurens doesn’t say anything, He just grits his teeth behind his closed lips and sets his jaw, growling. 

“A mysterious boy, don’t you think?” General Lee hums. 

More silence. 

A bit louder now, General Lee clears his throat. “I call a proposal!” 

Hamilton and Edwards stop chatting and quickly whip thier heads over their shoulders with surprise, glancing at each other before back at General Lee and Laurens. 

“I propose we advance upon each other,” General Lee says. “And fire at what time and distance he feels proper.” 

Hamilton and Edwards glances at each other, both seeming extremly nervous and worried and anxious, turn towards Laurens now. Laurens thinks about this suggestion for a moment, before expressing his own preferences and agreeing accordingly. 

Hamilton swallows as he and Edwards step two paces back as General Lee and Laurens stand back to back with their pistols raised, cocked, loaded and ready. Laurens closes his eyes before opening them again, staring at the barrel of his pistol. 

Edwards commands, “The duel will now commence.” 

Hamilton breathes in sharply, closing his eyes as he silently prays for Laurens’s safety. With their backs facing each other, Laurens and General Lee march six paces away from each other before both spinning around on their heels sharply and aiming their pistols directly at each other. 

Hamilton screams, “No!” at the same time the shot is fired with a sudden bang. Hamilton sucks in a breath and holds it as he hears General Lee cry out, “I’ve been shot!” 

Hamilton bites back a choke sob of releif as his puffs out a breath, visibily relaxing when he sees Laurens still standing, bringing his pistol to his lips and blows out the smoke from the barrel, grinning with triumph. 

General Lee grunts as he’s being hoisted by Edwards, one arm around Edwards’s shoulders while Edwards’s arm remains tight around General Lee’s waist. 

“The wound is inconsiderable,” General Lee barks, trying to shoo Edwards off. “I wish to fire a second time.” 

“No!” Both Hamilton and Edwards both bark, thier voices made clear that it is done. 

Hamilton rushes forward, tears with relief already springing to his eyes. He yanks the pistol away from Laurens’s hand and slams it back in place before forcefully dragging Laurens back towards the woods. 

Laurens opens his mouth to protest but is cut off short when he feel something agaisnt his cheek. A sharp noise could be heard like a crack when a branch is being snapped in half. Laurens’s head swivers to the side. He stares at the white blanket of snow before them, blinking with surprise and shock before cradling his cheek and gaping at Hamilton. 

“Never do that again!” Hamilton bellows, a hand on his hip as he jabs a finger at Laurens, pure anger in his eyes.

Laurens couldn’t help but chuckle as he puts both hands up, trying to calm Hamilton as he paces back and forth. 

“Hamilton--” 

“No! I don’t  want to hear it! You’re never going to challenge anyone to a duel ever again!” Hamilton cries. “Ever!” A pause. “Under no circumstances!” 

“Alex--” 

“No! You’re coming with me, sir!” Hamilton hisses, grabbing Laurens’s elbow and dragging him back towards headquarters. “Nearly gave me a goddamned heart-attack. What the hell were you thinking?! Wanting another round of fire?! One shot should be good enough and make full of your satisfactory considering where General Lee had been hit! My God, Laurens! You’re going to be the death of me! You and your brash recklessness! I fucking swear.” 

Laurens just chuckles, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head as he lets Hamilton drag him back to headquarters. 

Sometimes, Laurens wonders just how he managed to end up with a man like Hamilton. 

[liam-cadmus]

Sasuke slowly blinks his eyes, as the light shines from the window, the offending light making his sensitive eyes close in response. He lets out a silent grunt, as one arm escapes from where it’s twined with Shikamaru, gently prodding it away.  He uses his freed hand to rub his tired eyelids, stifling a yawn with his palm afterwards. He slowly detaches his limbs, gently laying his tired, overworked lover back to bed, tucking the blankets around him. he coos a bit when hands latch on his shirt, grip tight and unrelenting. “I’ll be right in the kitchen, don’t worry.” he tells him, his hands closing over Shikamaru’s and pulling it away. He pecks his partner’s forehead, slowly trailing to his nose, then cheeks, before leaving a swift one on the lips. He chuckles quietly at the groan of frustration Shikamaru lets out, as he slips from the bed. He closes the curtains shut, before leaving the door open, as he walks to the kitchen.  He avoids the urge to grind the coffee beans, considering that Shikamaru stayed awake so late, and that he has a bit of an addiction to caffeine. He fills the kettle, whistling a tune that had gotten stuck on his head because of his lover’s humming. He pours the hot water to the tea pot, letting it steep for a few minutes before straining it to two mugs. He decides that he’ll just prepare tea again later, and not let the extra one to waste. “I’m surprised you’re preparing tea, it’s unlike you.” Shikamaru drawls sleepily, making him turn his head on the direction of the noise. “Do you honestly expect me to brew coffee when you clearly haven’t slept much?” he retorts before placing the tea back down. “...No.”  He sighs before walking closer to Shikamaru, raising an eyebrow. “You look dead on your feet, do you want tea?” he asks, even though he knows the other man is far too sleepy to stay awake. A mumbled disagreement and a silent ‘I’m not tired’ as a retort is heard before he clicks his tongue softly, reprimanding the man in an albeit exasperated tone. “Back to bed, you look like shit.” Shikamaru scowls at him, offended, before relenting to his insistent tugging to the bed. “You’re tired, just sleep please?” he asks, fondly smiling when he feels the taller man slouching on his back, eyes barely open.  “Idiot.” is the affectionate whisper he utters before making Shikamaru lay back down on the bed. He watches with an adoring gaze as his partner settles back down, letting out a discontented noise at the lack of warmth on his side.  Seeing his partner buried under their blankets and dozing off always gave a warm tender feeling to his bones, the flames overheating him hotter than his clan’s scolding fire jutsus. Emotions overwhelm his whole being, breaking whatever stoic mask he used.  Shikamaru deserves to be pampered every once in a while, the man hardworking to fulfill everyone’s needs. He’s Sasuke’s refuge, his escape, and he’s very appreciative of all the work he’s done, and besides, his urge to indulge Shikamaru is rising again.  The stubborn, independent Nara has his limits, and Sasuke will make sure he’s there for him, will do anything just to be in the genius’ arms. He thinks it’s fair that he can be a doting lover, after all, Shikamaru was there to catch him, even though so many people are relying on him.  Contrary to popular belief, Shikamaru does not have complete confidence on himself, always anxious if the plans that he gives is correct, and that no one’s gonna get affected if he got it wrong. (Sasuke just wants him to see that he’s brilliant, that he’s very clever and that he shouldn’t think he isn’t. Sadly, he’s just one man, but he can see the thankful smile and the way his partner perks up ever so slightly.) He wants scowl and glower at the people who think Shikamaru is everything but kind, who thinks he’s condescending, boastful rude being, even though the genius is just far too blunt and honest, that he accidentally insults people without meaning to. He wants people to see that the smartest shinobi of their generation is just human, and that he’s breaking under the stress and pressure. The Nara he’s seen is the one who works so damn hard and that no body gives credit for the things he do, the one who was thought of independent and left alone by the other jounins and chunins, even though he can’t do everything by himself. The Nara that goes out to watch the clouds or nap after doing so much work and only gets judged for being lazy. The one that would push aside his work and problems, just to tell him other stories with a sweet smile, his tan, soft, deft hands intertwining with his own. He’s protective person by heart and by clan, attaching himself to someone with his whole being and consciousness, that he would break if he’s separated with his loved ones. Shikamaru is the only man, the only person who can make an Uchiha like him to lose his calm and collected persona, the one who can turn him from a stone cold-hearted warrior to a attentive, caring man with just a smile. He would let his defenses fall, his unbreakable pride to shatter to millions of pieces without thinking twice, the one who would make him kill platoons of enemies just to keep him safe.  He knows Shikamaru, so much, that he would trade everything, because he loves fiercely.  He shakes himself out of his thoughts, before hurrying along, knowing that Shikamaru hates not having warmth beside him while sleeping, which he admits that he also hates. He swiftly makes a hearty breakfast, letting miso soup boil as the rice cooks in the saucepan, while cooking eggs with furikake. He grills a bit of fish, placing some cherry tomatoes in his own plate. He spares a glance to the window, only to see a light orange hue passing through the transparent glass, the light just reaching the meadows, sun peeking out of the horizon. He places the food in the stasis seal, the food kept warm. He pushes the door ajar slightly, as he sits by the edge, thumb pressing on his knee. He extends his hands to Shikamaru’s loose unruly locks, the hair tie by the pillow. His Sharingan accidentally activates as he lets his gaze over his partner, memorizing every inch, eidetic memory proving helpful, the image ingrained in his mind separated from the bad ones.  “Stop that,” a sleepy grumble, as his Sharingan shuts off fast as lightning, making him a bit dizzy from the abrupt cut of chakra to his eyes. Shikamaru rolls his eyes, before tugging him closer, making him the one to be the little spoon this time, throwing a leg over him.  He quietly exhales, eyes closing as Shikamaru’s earthy, calming chakra soothes his nerves, grounding him. He stays silent as his fingers trace random shapes onto Shikamaru’s back, eyes unfocused. He feels the rhythmic beating of Shikamaru’s heart from where his ear is pressed against, air blowing against his bedridden hair. Minutes pass by without his notice, before the pads of tan fingers trace the seals on either side of his eyes, thumb grazing it lightly with chakra, the pathways smoothing out with the pleasant touch. “Why did you just sit there? You could’ve just laid down beside me.”  “Hn, I don’t know,” he offers a shrug, raising his eyes to Shikamaru’s nose bridge, absent-mindedly avoiding his eyes. “Stop avoiding eye contact, Su, it’s fine.” His mouth opens to an O shape before flicking it to warm brown eyes, not noticing he’s been doing it. “Force of habit.”  A sigh was let out before his partner asks, “Do you wanna talk about the nightmare?”  He contemplates the question in his head, knowing that Shikamaru is just genuinely curious and wouldn’t press him if he doesn’t want to. “Not right now, maybe later?” he asks, earning a understanding hum.  “Now, did you get enough sleep?” he asks with narrowed eyes, a concerned lilt to his voice. “Enough?”  “Did you get at least 4 hours of sleep?” he asks instead, huffing. “You’re such a mother hen, I’ve slept most of the afternoon yesterday, so I could stay up.” A amused glint is present in the deep sepia eyes, an irritating fond smirk present on chapped lips.  “But you admit you like the affection? Baby?” he teases, liking the color of his partner’s cheeks and ears turning red. “Sappy shit.” Shikamaru tiredly mumbles, before he sits up, melodramatically sighing out loud. “Come on, let’s eat breakfast.” Shikamaru urges, disappearing to the bathroom, a reminder echoing out.  “We have forever to spend on, I know, just come brush your teeth, Sas.”  ‘And you’d wake up beside me for every sunrise for however long forever lasts.’ Part 1 | Shikamaru