#i love him and his pants what a delightful critter

[spindle-and-nima]

pants on the box

My god he sure is

[taoreshi]

a starter for @hyper-drive-muses Few things in the world were quite so delightful as the classic played game of cat and mouse. It could feel like an eternity listening to the scratchings and squeaks behind the wall; they were there. But where? It was only when one made a mad dash in the open world that the chase began. But if Innocence was vermin, what did it make their little hosts? The plague? Persistent as one, no doubt. But truthfully, to underestimate an exorcist or Innocence they wielded was... a pleasure Tyki could never tire of. Oh, how boring it would be to be God, omniscient, omnipotent, and all-loving! To ride the high was only possible after falling into the deepest lows. Panting, Tyki rounded yet another corner of this never-ending labyrinth, a flock of tired Teez bumbling behind him. Most had come to rest on his shoulders, although a few of the critters hopelessly wandered about the immediate area. His eyes lit up as he was met with another dead-end... But it was not entirely empty. Wiping the blood from his mouth from their earlier conflicts, Tyki gave a charismatic, friendly wave. "Oh, we must stop meeting like this. ~" His hand dropped to tickle at one of the deadly butterflies to coax it to his finger and make it his weapon. Instead, it drooped dramatically, pretending to be dead. Er-- maybe it was? He poked it again, and it twitched. Ahhh, very dead indeed. "...I was almost hoping you would have found it by now... Or the exit." He sighed exhausted, as though they had not just battered each other senseless no more than 20 minutes ago.

[itcamefromthetoybox]

Gatorland’s Most Wanted

Let me take you back in time, dear readers, to a magical period called “The 1990’s.” In this strange time, we didn’t have Netflix, or YouTube, or anything like that. Instead, if you wanted to watch a show, you went to a place called a “Video Rental Store,” and paid to rent a plastic rectangle called a “VHS.” It would be a movie or a few episodes of a TV show that you would watch and then physically bring back to the store after about 3-4 days or so. As a kid, I loved renting VHS tapes, and some of my favorite tapes to rent were episodes of the original “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” So imagine my sheer joy, readers, when I walked into a store this week and saw the original toys for reasonable prices. For a moment, I was 9 again. I didn’t have taxes, or bills, or a chronic illness. I had utter bliss. And that’s why we’re looking at “TMNT Classic Leatherhead,” because I want to relive my childhood wonder!

I freaking love the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I just wanna get that out there. I freaking adore them. I could write whole essays on why Michelangelo and Raphael constantly alternate as my favorite character. I could present an entire analysis on what makes Bebop and Rocksteady such great villains. I could do a powerpoint on why the rivalry between Shredder and Master Splinter is the stuff of legends. Basically, I’m going into this with some biases, and those biases were born of love.

Pretty sure you already know who the Ninja Turtles are, but if not, let’s do a quick overview: while the details as a whole change from series to series, with each show or comic universe being a fresh start for the characters, the basics stay the same: exposure to a strange ooze mutates four baby turtles into humanoid turtles who are then trained by rat who was also mutated (sometimes he is a man who became a rat, and sometimes he is a rat who became a rat-man) in the art of ninjutsu. They find themselves in conflict with aliens, other mutants, and their most significant foes, the ninja clan known as The Foot, and its leader, the masked warrior called The Shredder. Surprisingly, this premise has led to some dark, serious stories, and the original comics were very much not aimed at kids, dealing with themes such as child soldiers, the endless cycle of vengeance and violence and how it warps all it touches, prejudice, and the death of loved ones. The series people tend to think of, though, is the very fun and campy cartoon from the 80’s, which is where Leatherhead, the subject of today’s review, comes from.

Leatherhead is a character whose specific deal varies depending on which series you look at. Sometimes, he’s pretty sympathetic, wanted to lash out at those who hurt him and to take care of his friends. Sometimes, he’s very much someone who has become a villain due to letting his hate for his enemies consume him. And sometimes, he’s an alligator from Florida with a shotgun and a bear trap who talks like he came from the most stereotypical part of Louisiana. We’re looking at that version, because he is delightful.

Offensively Cajun.

I love how this toy looks. Every part of his design is so different from what most action figures do, where the figure is standing upright, arms at the side and face with a stoic expression, or just so riddled with joints that it detracts from the looks of the thing. Leatherhead’s hunched over, posed like he’s ready for the hunt, and clearly grinning sinisterly. His vest and pants are torn and ragged to show that they’re clearly not made for him and that he’s forced his way into them, and his hat’s plopped down on his head in a way that screams “swamp man.” His entire look is a lot of fun. Also, while his belt is unpainted, making some details on it hard to see, it actually has a lot of things hanging from it: ammo, bait, and various critters Leatherhead’s caught and intends to eat. It also has a place to store Leatherhead’s gun when he’s not on the hunt. His design’s very animated and fun to look at. Which Leatherhead’s belt and accessories lack paint, he himself is very colorful and blatantly a a toy. His design and paint job scream “play with me!”

In terms of articulation, Leatherhead’s alright. He has very basic articulation in that his legs, arms, neck, and tail move. That’s nothing too surprising. His mouth can open and close, which is delightful, though, he loses points because his head’s a bit loose. I can feel it wiggle when I turn it, and even though I know it’s fine and the head is in no danger, it does annoy me.

The state mascot of Florida: an alligator with a shotgun.

Leatherhead comes with two accessories: a shotgun and a bear trap. This is delightful. Those accessories go along perfectly with how cartoonishly stereotypical he is, which is fine because he’s a cartoon character from the 80’s-90’s. His accessories are fun little things for kids to play with, so they’re fun, simple things. The shotgun fits nicely in Leatherhead’s hands and can attach to his belt, and the bear trap opens and closes. It’s not spring-loaded, but that’s a good thing because otherwise someone’s losing a finger. Probably me. I make bad choices sometimes. Now, his belt is removable, which I guess makes it count as an accessory, but I didn’t want to risk damaging it, so I refused to take it off for pics. Leatherhead comes wearing it, so I just left it as is.

One bag of meth away from being Florida’s new state flag.

Leatherhead does have one big issue that I want to point out. Due to how he’s sculpted, his balance is a bit off and he falls over easily. That’s pretty much it. He’s from an era where toys were played with and then set aside to be played with more later, so “standing perfectly balanced for display” really wasn’t on the designers’ minds. You can get him to balance, but it’s going to take a little effort.

Strutting his stuff on the catwalk.

Leatherhead and the other “TMNT Classic” toys are available at mass retail, but I’d actually be hard-pressed to give you a price range. I’ve seen the figures at some stores for about $20, but I found Leatherhead and a bunch of other figures at Target for $11 as the standard price. They weren’t on discount or special sale or anything. Their regular price was $11. The toys are aimed at ages 4 and up, and I would absolutely recommend them. They’re fun to play with, delightful characters, and just all around a joy. And the boxes have character bios on the back, so kids can be introduced to the characters. I would absolutely say to go out and get them. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go play with Leatherhead and relive the magic of my youth again. This is JS signing off and wishing you Happy Toy Hunting!

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Billy spending the past 10 years pretty isolated from the rest of the world and having him think Kickin is the cool guy of all time sounds like the perfect recipe for disaster lmao, these two are going to make SOMETHING explode or get themselves into an accident and Angel will have a heart attack thanks to them- rip everyone's sanity, Kickin gotta set a bad example for Billy to follow.

Him feeling safe around Dogday- UAGHAUGHAUGHAUGHHHH. I can see our big pup getting a bit overprotective over him thanks to his trauma of almost losing all the other SC + him seeing Billy as the Baby(tm) of the bunch.

HIM ALSO GETTING ALONG WITH HOPPY. Once again, perfect recipe for disaster, she and him go on a hunting trip and come back covered in blood and panting, but also there's a Giant Dead Deer In The Backyard Now.

He could follow Bubba and Delight on their mini hiking trips around the farm! These two love nature and would get along nicely with Billy. Everyone can infodump to each other :0)

Catnap... I can feel Catnap also being a bit overprotective over Billy. Similar reasons to Dogday, but also Billy is the only critter that never met Catnap during his worst years. Our big kitty would feel the need to do better with him than how he did with the others.

Bobby, Crafty and Billy would be such a cute trio dynamic. Traumatized girlie with fear of abandonment x ball of anxiety x lived in a forest for 10 years. They're staring at people in the mall because no one here knows what to do (at least in the beginning). Bobby makes matching friendship bracelets for them!

Picky and him being cooking buddies.,... We have another one to help with making food for the entire family! Yeeehaw! I can see Picky explaining farm stuff to him as well :0)

The Lost Toy AU

hey @hiwelcometothemonstersancturary do you this asks?: https://www.tumblr.com/hiwelcometothemonstersancturary/746654157313802240/reading-your-au-just-give-me-an-funny-idea-like

guess what, I made lore and art for the lost toy oc.

I made this with the paint app because Fuck AI. so here is his lore.

"in the deepest part of the labs of Playtime Co. A new toy was in the works, A duck toy that was Rip off 'inspire' by disney donald duck, they put out ideas of what this duck toy to be?. A pull string toy?, windup toys?, a Plush?. they don't know what to pick, there where so many choices to pick from. they when back and forth of what it should be... until one of them had an idea.

'Hey, why not make it into a new Smiling Critters since that one of our most famous toys line we have.' just like that; they when to work.

'he will be a Smiling Critter that all about natural' one of them said 'and he will be friends with Hoppy Hopscotch since that is the other Smiling Critters that likes going outside.' as they talk more about who/what his personality, the other ones pick a kid from the orphanage who will be a good fit for the new Smiling Critter.

unknow amount of time has passed since that day, now a lonely new Smiling Critter sit somewhere in the labs of Playtime Co. 'billy waddlingtin' as they called him now, they want to wait to find the perfect to show the world the new Smiling Critter and introduce him to the other Smiling Critters...

that day never happen.

the HOJ happen instead, billy was in a room all by himself but the next time he knew it, he was running for his life. he don't remember much of how that happen but he still remember seeing people kill by other toys, blood, yelling, crying, calling for help. a robot claw and voice in his head saying 'you are free now.'

that was +10 years ago, billy somehow got out of Playtime Factory when no one else did. he been living in the woods hidding from the world itself, but it didn't stop people accidentally finding him and end up being a cryptid of the woods know as 'the man duck' as they called him. it made him go deeper and deeper into the woods to hide. stealing stuff to survive, finding/killing animal's for food and living in caves to avoid the rain and snow.

he think he will keep doing this until he dies... until. he hear news of an Angel saveing toys from the Factory, he didn't believe. he didn't believe at all, he think it was a trap from playtime co. to find him.

and so... he wait.

he wait to hear more news of the angel. of how they save the toys, how now they are being protected by them. and now hearing that they live on a farm, that one made him leave the woods for ones in his life.

it took some time to find it and when he did, a claw was on his shoulder to meet him."

so yeah, hope you like this lore.

[effeminateboyninja]

I love your writings so much 😍 your Choji and Shino hc's give me serotonin 💕💕💕 But if I may

Hc or fic about Choji meeting his s/o at his favorite restaurant? Or maybe Shino with an s/o who absolutely adores his bugs and goes bug hunting/watching with him 💕

thank you bb!! these are so cute, i’m gonna do both 🥺

♡ restaurant romance w/ Choji ♡

he had to admit he didn’t just come for the barbecue pork (though it was delicious). the real reason he frequented the restaurant so often was you

getting the chance to see the bright smile that graced your face as you greeted him and brought him to his usual booth was enough to make his stomach do somersaults

you didn’t even need to ask for his order, the sweet boy always got the same thing. so instead you always asked about his day, genuinely curious to know what the friendly shinobi had been up to

he’d tell you eagerly about all the things he’d done since the last time he saw you and you’d sit and listen with an interested smile and laugh heartily until your manager yelled at you to get back to work

he always felt bad about getting you in trouble, but he couldn’t help it, he loved talking to you

you’d come back a few minutes later and his mouth would water, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the food you carried or just your beauty

after months of going back almost daily, he finally works up the nerve to ask you to spend time together when you’re not at work

he enters the restaurant hesitantly, mind racing with what he’s about to say and walks up to where you’re standing clearing tables. he wipes his palms on his pants and exhales deeply before he asks,

“hi (y/n), so... we’ve been getting to know each other a lot lately and I really love spending time with you... do you want to maybe go on a date with me?” he looks away nervously, already regretting his words. why would you want to date him?

but before he can chastise himself any further you’re responding with a wide grin, “I thought you’d never ask!” and relief floods through him. “I get off at 7 tomorrow, pick me up then?” then you plant a quick peck on his plump cheek and pick up the dishes from the table, leaving him there blushing

the next night he meets you outside the restaurant with a single rose that Ino picked out, and his heart almost beats out of his chest when he sees you out of your uniform for the first time

you two walk through the village hand-in-hand and he’s wearing an adorable blush the whole time because he can’t believe this is actually happening

following that night together he’s even more head over heels than he was to begin with and he starts meeting you after every one of your shifts

after a few more dates you guys make it official, and even though you eventually stop working at the restaurant you guys go back every year for your anniversary

♡ bug-hunting w/ Shino ♡

your curiosity is what drew him in. rather than cringing away from his beetles like most people you always seemed delighted and interested when he used them

the first time you asked for him to take you bug-hunting his heart almost drops out of his chest. his favourite person? wants to do his favourite thing?? 🥺 yes please!!!

he’s so excited he basically drags you out into the woods, babbling excitedly about how he knows exactly where you guys need to look

and my goodness, isn’t he precious? the enthusiastic lilt in his deep voice when he finally get the chance to be listened to makes you want to melt

you two will spend hours together exploring and finding neat lil critters, and you’ll sit with your head in your hands gazing up at him as he tells you all the details of their life cycles and adaptations

every once and a while you’ll spot a particularly vibrant beetle, or some alien-looking species you’ve never seen before and call out to him, “Shino, look at this one! It’s beautiful.”

“not as beautiful as you, (y/n)” he says shyly, and you can’t help but lean up and kiss him on his cute nose, causing a bright pink to paint his cheeks

poor flustered boy, he’ll start frantically explaining everything he knows about the pretty beetle after that

maybe you keep cutting off his lecture with kisses because you just can’t get enough of the adorable expression he makes when you pull away, who knows?

and for the first time in his life he doesn’t resent being interrupted

when you start to get tired he’ll lay you down to take a break in the lush grass, cuddled up next to each other as he uses his bugs to put on a sort of shadow puppet show above you

you’ll giggle at all the silly scenes he puts on and he’ll relish the sound of it, wondering how he got so lucky to find someone who fits him so perfectly

eventually the sky starts to turn an orangish-pink and he can see your eyes fluttering closed as you lay on his chest

so he walks you home and leaves you with a soft kiss (and also one of his beetles to watch over you while he’s gone)

[enigma-im]

Something About Her

Rating: General Relationship: Alien x F!Human Warning: Meet-cute, Stowaway on a ship, Confessing feelings, fluff

Word Count: 2756

Little stowaway endears herself to the ship's captain via botched escape attempts

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

The captain is far too busy. Working upon a freighter has never left room for idle joys. Every second is spent working for this poor man. Even conversations from his workers are sorted by category: important and not. If it can be handled without his help then he can't bother to remember it. Like his head of security informing him of a stowaway found in one of the unused rooms near the storage is. Once he said that it would be dealt with then he mentally threw it into the 'finished' bin.

Sorting through messages as he walks down the hall he barely pays anything a thought besides the tablet before him. Reaching a fork in the hall he looks up faintly hearing the pitter-patter of bare feet rushing towards him. Looking ahead he catches eyes with someone he doesn't know. The two freeze mid-action, looking to one another confused and cautious.

A woman stands before him, looking outlandish in her ragged clothing on such a prestige ship. She seems well into her age, around 30 if he had to guess based on his limited knowledge of humans. Her hair is wild and untamed like she has just woken. The captain would argue it still looked appealing though unkept. She was all-around attractive to the captain's surprise.

"Hello," he greets conflicted on what to do. A smile tweaks her lips for a moment before voices call from down the hall. The woman jumps into action, running away out of sight down the hall. The captain watches amused as his men run after the female, calling out to her in frantic attempts to cease her escape.

With a snort of a chuckle, the captain eagerly follows the crowd.

ouououo

The next time he meets the strange woman is in his office, a place he assumed was impenetrable to unwanted visitors. He is working at his desk like every day, growing strained at the hours of uninterrupted focus. He is startled by a loud thud by the corner of his room. A thin vent by the wall catches his attention, the noises seemingly coming from there. A critter couldn't have possibly gotten into the walls, right? They haven't been planetside in months, there is no way one founds its way on the ship.

The grate pops out from the floor, a hand following it as it claws at the floor. Another hand soon follows and then a head. The woman gasps as she rests her cheek on the ground, panting from the experience.

"You do know I have a door," the captain joked, smiling to himself. The woman snaps her head up, looking at him frightened. He chuckles, amused beyond belief on how this human managed to crawl through such a small hole. The way her shoulders are pinched strangely tells the captain that it was no easy feat.

After a moment of staring does the woman attempts to crawl back through the vent, shimming frantically. The captain jumps up out of his chair, reaching down and grabbing her arm.

"Now there is no reason to kill yourself going back down there," he scolds. She fights him till her hips tug on the walls of the vent. With a sigh she crawls out, standing before the captain with a stubborn amount of determination. He snickers to himself, adoring her more and more.

"Relax, take a seat," he walks back to his desk, pointing towards the chairs in the room. Confused, the woman looks around for some sort of trap before sitting. The captain plops into his seat, looking to her with an unrestrained smile.

"We haven't been properly introduced," he starts," I am Captain Reebok of the eighth division freighter."

She snorts, "reebok?" He can't help but grin when she says his name.

"That is me," he bows slightly.

"Your name is a shoe brand," she chuckles. He tries to take offense but her laughter numbs that feeling. He lets it pass, resting his head on his fist as he admires her.

"And who might you be," he asks. She stiffens, eyeing him skeptically. He can see the urge for her to run, it's written all over her tense shoulders.

"Monica," she spits out.

"It's lovely to meet you, Monica," he smiles.

uwuwuwuwu

The little human has made herself quite the menace on the ship despite everyone's constant reassurance of her safety. Her denial to speak with everyone has gotten them nowhere in figuring out where she is trying to go, or if she does intend to get somewhere. Though the captain and she have a tendency to cross paths. Those moments seem to be the only time she sits still, talking with him for a while before the crew comes to find her.

With a last-ditch effort, the crew keeps her in a heavily guarded room. No means of escape possible according to the security officer. The arrogant man is so confident in himself with this proclamation.

The captain makes his way down towards Monica's new room, eager to speak with her again. He meets up with the officer on the way, listening to him praise himself for keeping the sneaky human still for days now. The captain hears a bell of foreshadowing ringing every time the officer gloats about his measures.

The officer unlocks the door, smug as he walks in. The captain can almost hear a bell go off again as the officer walks out confused and angry.

The officer looks to his workers," where is she?" The captain bites back a snicker. The two guards look in the room, confused above all else. The three begin arguing, frantically looking for her while the captain takes a leisure stroll down the hall.

He looks to the ceiling, grinning like a fool as he stops. The officer quits his yelling to watch the captain reach up towards the ceiling. He hits a panel, knocking it off with a loud clang. Quickly he jumps up and grabs something, a startled squeak echoing through the hall.

The three security workers watched dumbfounded as the captain cradles the human in his arms, laughing as she huffs in defeat.

"Hello again, miss Monica," he sets her down," I can't wait to hear how you managed to get out this time."

"Wasn't hard, just tedious," she grumbles as she dusts off her shirt. Reebok shakes his head amused before waving her with him as he walks back down the hall.

"Come, I have lunch awaiting us," he says as she trots up beside him.

"Did you get those little cookies," she asks eagerly.

The three security guards watch completely bewildered as the duo walk ahead. They chat amicably like she wasn't just caught trying to escape once again. The officer sighs, this girl is going to be the death of him.

Ououou

"So why are you making my crew run around like a bunch of fools," Reebok finally asks. Monica expected the question at some point, surprised he was more interested in talking about other things first.

Monica lounges back on the couch, looking at reebok upside-down. "At first because I was scared. Stowaways aren't treated well, in my experience. Now, it's for fun," she says as she hangs her arms over the edge to touch the ground.

"I'll admit, watching my head of security get all red-faced is nearly the highlight of my week," he smirks. He fiddles with some work, having not intended to entertain this evening. Though she is currently hiding from the crew, what was he to do but take her in?

"What is the highlight of your week then, if not officer grouchy," she asks. Monica twists onto her stomach, watching him. He works on his tablet, looking as if he isn't paying attention.

"Catching you mid escape. I always adore the conversation after when you explain what happened," he nods to himself," it's not like there is a lot that goes on here besides work. I think the crew secretly enjoys chasing you around, gives them something to do besides stand about."

Monica smiles wide. It's nice to feel wanted for once.

"Is it honestly so boring around here that my company is wanted, even delighted in," she jokes but truly asking.

He shrugs," I don't think it's the sole reason. Speaking for myself here when I say that having you around has been a treat and if offered any other company I'd choose you every time."

"Flirt," she flusters, turning on her back to look at the ceiling. The captain finally sets down his tablet, admiring the woman. He didn't intend to sound flirtatious, it was the truth. He enjoys having her around, even thinking about offering her a job here instead of dropping her off at the next station. Yet, does his feeling go farther than casual feelings? Did he accidentally flirt with her? He hasn't done that in years.

He ponders this well after she sneaks off.

Ououou

It's a good few days of silence that unnerves the captain. He hasn't seen hide nor hair of miss Monica and it's starting to grate on him. It seems that the crew hasn't seen much of her lately either. The revelation that Monica is truly missing shakes the whole crew.

The day they realize she is gone is the day they drop all their work and look for her. The security workers ask everyone the last time they caught her snooping around. A lot of 'he said she said' tells that Monica was last seen a day ago, but only just barely. The captain looks high and low for her, meeting up with the head of security for updates. He is truly worried, feeling panicked at the idea of her hurt somewhere on his ship.

It's late in the day cycle when he finally finds her. He nearly misses her, walking past a room he previously scoped out. Doing a double-take he finds her in a low storage room sitting on the table that rests in the center of the room. She is holding her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knee. The captain sighs, releasing the tension for just a moment.

"Monica," he says, entering the room. She snaps her head up, meeting his worried gaze.

"oh, hey," she fidgets, unclasping her legs in favor of sitting cross-legged. It picks at Reebok that she is looking towards the floor now, not smiling like she usually does. He stops near the table, giving her a once over in hopes of observing what's wrong.

"We've been looking everywhere for you, no one has seen you for a few days," he explains smoothly, keeping his tone low. The timber comforts Monica.

"Sorry," she grumbles," I just wanted some time alone." he nods. The captain understands wanting to be left alone, it's what a lot of his workers crave when crammed together on this ship for months on end. Yet, this is different.

"Is something wrong," he asks.

She shrugs," kind of?"

He ducks down to meet her eyes," do you wanna talk about it?"

She shrugs again, shifting on the table to make room. Reebok catches on, climbing onto the table. He feels a bit ridiculous sitting up there instead of in one of the chairs littering the room but he can't bring himself to care. Instead, he waits patiently for her to speak.

"I'm worried," she starts," I've been here far longer than I meant to. I barely noticed till shortly after leaving the first waystation. It sort of just hit me then. I have never been on a ship this long. Hell, I haven't been caught in so long. Being a stowaway has become easy, jumping from ship to station and back again. That was my life. Now… now it's different. You guys don't treat me like a parasite stealing your food and using you for free rides. Despite the rocky start, you guys are nice. I like it here…"

"And that scares you," he finishes for her.

"yea," she sighs, dropping her shoulders," I like the crew and the mischief they get into. I like the security guys who run around like idiots all day trying to keep up with me. I also like you."

"because I hide you from the idiots trying to keep up with you," he jokes. He manages to get a smile from her, warming his heart.

"No, I just like you," she answers, looking to him," I really like you and I think that's the scariest thing of all."

Reebok is truly caught off guard at this moment. He stares dumbfounded at her, his heart running like a racehorse. So awestruck that he can't even figure what to do. The absents of a reaction rips at Monica, making her curl into herself.

"But that's ok if you don't have those feelings, I just wanted to get it out there. I was planning on leaving at the next station, which I heard is where you guys unload all this stuff. Was kind of funny actually, getting rid of storage while getting rid of the stowaway," she rambles on. Reebok would find this adorable if it wasn't so alarming. Hearing her admit her feelings is euphoric, but hearing her plans of leaving is like a cold shower.

Reebok reaches over and grabs Monica, spreading his legs to tug her between them. He hugs her, cradling her to his body. Her little hands press against his chest, feeling his heart pulse quickly against her palm. He presses a little kiss to her hair, gaining some courage before speaking.

"I don't want you to go," he starts," I've had more fun with you here these past few weeks than my whole time serving for this ship. I want nothing more than for you to stay, work for me, and be a part of my life. I like you, Monica, more than I'm willing to admit right now."

She stiffens, shoulder bunching and fist clenching, as he speaks. The words sounding like a melody to her ears.

"You like me," she asks with glee. Reebok pulls her away to look at her, smiling with a gleam in his eyes.

He presses a kiss to her cheek," of course I do, I'd be a fool otherwise."

Monica flusters, reacting with giddy as she grabs him and kisses him. He grunts, startled before overjoyed. He kisses her back, holding her dear while trying to fight back a wide smile.

"I want you to stay," he parts long enough to say," will you work for me?"

She chuckles, resting her head against his," what a weird proposal." he flounders at that, sputtering on his words. She stops him with a kiss," I'll work for you."

They sit amicably on the table, Reebok holding her as she drifts off to sleep. It seems this problem has weighed heavily on her shoulders for a while now, keeping her up. Though he rather she slept in an actual bed he can't deny wanting her in his arms more.

Steps echo from down the hall, bursting the private bubble they made here. Reebok looking over to the door catches sight of his head of security followed by two guards. He walks through the door, ready to speak before Reebok shushes him. The guards look from him to her, softening as they watch her sleep.

"Glad you found her," the head of security whispers," I'll let the crew know."

Reebok nods," can you also get some employment papers set up?"

He smiles," of course. Glad to have her aboard."

Reebok waves them out before scooting off the table, holding her as he walks out the room. He walks her towards his quarters, letting her rest in his bed for the time till her room can be arranged. Setting her down he tucks her in. He takes a moment to admire her, feeling calm at the view. With a sigh he turns away, thinking about all the neglected work piling up. A hand stops his retreat.

"Don't go," Monica grumbles half asleep. Her hands drop as she fully fades back into slumber, leaving reebok with a choice. He looks to the door then back to her, sighing in clear defeat as he kicks off his shoes.

Reebok crawls into bed behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and falling lax into the bed. Monica clenches his hand in hers, holding it close to her chest with a satisfied hum.

"Night," he kisses her shoulder.

"Night," she mumbles back.

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

Taking next weekend off for posting, be my first weekend this year I won’t post original content. I’m taking the time to finish up the ‘12 tropes for christmas’ stories. I so far have 7 out of 12 done and i’m excited to get them out on Dec. 14th - 25th.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

[phantomnationdraws]

I Love You 3000

It’s here it’s here it’s heeeeere!!! The final product of the collab between myself and @thdorkmagnet​!! I strongly recommend listening to this version of the Blood Moon Waltz as you read, for maximum feels.

https://soundcloud.com/ubercelloczar/cleaved-together

Marco ran up the driveway of his house, panting from exertion as he jogged steadily on the uneven ground, clutching a large box tightly in his hands, making sure not to ruin the steaming hot pizza inside. He didn’t slow for a second, keeping his focus and attention entirely on the front door to his house, which he kicked open without hesitation, lacking the hands to turn the doorknob, already knowing it was left unlocked. After all, any burglar dumb enough to try and break in would find himself biting off way more than he could chew, since both he and Star were well trained in combat. 

The red-clad teen was breathing heavily as he stepped into the living room of his wonderful home, the lights all turned off and what had to be at least a dozen candles all lit and scattered about the room, creating an absolutely breathtaking and romantic atmosphere. The boy used the back of his foot to close the door behind him, before calling out loudly to his seemingly empty house, “Star, I’m home!” 

Normally, he would keep his voice down this late at night out of fear of waking his family up but both Mariposa and his parents were gone for the night, his sister to stay overnight with her best friend Meteora and his parents away on an overnight camping trip in the Forest of Certain Death with Star’s parents (the four adults becoming very close friends in the few years since the Great Cleaving), leaving the house to just him and Star. Just the way they wanted it. 

The boy took a few steps forward, looking around for his girlfriend somewhere in the darkness of the room, only to be practically toppled over as Star appeared out of nowhere and trapped him in a surprise hug. “Marco!” she shouted in delight, squeezing him as tightly as ever, while the hooded teen screamed, holding the box over his head to avoid dropping it as Star continued to cling to his midsection. “I’m so glad you’re back!” the blonde cheered, her voice as bubbly as ever and the boy couldn’t help but grin.

“Yep, I’m back,” Marco said with an enthusiastic smile down at his loving girlfriend. “Sorry it took me so long, Emilio’s was closed after a herd of Snippergriffs apparently got inside, so I had to improvise.”

Star rolled her eyes, finally releasing her grip on her Marco, putting her hands on her hips. “Ugh, dang, Snippergriffs, they ruin everything!” the blonde muttered angrily, cursing the very nature of the pesky critters of her homeland. 

Marco, seeing his girlfriend’s distraught behavior, quickly changed the subject as he looked around the room, which almost radiated with an otherworldly glow. “I see you were busy while I was gone.” 

Star’s bright enthusiasm returned full-force as she looked around the room with pride, saying with satisfaction, “Yeah, I thought this way it would all be much more romantic.” She arched her eyebrows knowingly on the last word, causing Marco to chuckle. “Do you like it?” the girl asked hopefully, her hands hovering near her mouth in anticipation for her boyfriend’s opinion.

The boy nodded happily. “I love it! It’s perfect, Star,” Marco said, setting the pizza down on a nearby coffee table. “Now then, do you know what today is?” the boy asked, doing little finger guns in the air for emphasis.

“Uhh,” Star began, thinking the question over. “Date night?”

Marco shook his head, “Well, yeah but you know what else it is?”

“Hmmm,” the blonde said, tapping a finger to her chin. “Friendship Thursday?”

The hooded teen frowned in disappointment, asking in a hinting tone, “Anything else?”

Star contemplated this for a few seconds, the boy growing more and more disappointed with each passing second before Star snapped her fingers and said confidently, “The last day for Stop N’ Slurp’s half-off sale.”

Marco shrank at that answer, looking sadly at the ground. He couldn’t believe Star had forgotten how special today was. The blonde seeing the depressed look on her boyfriend’s face, quickly added, “Marco, I’m just teasing of course I know what today is.”

The latino’s sad frown turned into a bright grin as he and Star shouted as one, “The anniversary of the Blood Moon Ball!” The two burst out into laughter at their shared sentence, Star clutching her stomach as she practically doubled-over from her giggle fit, Marco very lightly grabbing onto the girl’s shoulders to keep her upright as he tried to fight through his own laughter. Finally, the two recovered from their laughing fit, wiping tears from their eyes as Marco said, “Can’t believe we still do that.”

“I know, right,” Star said, opening the box of pizza and taking out a slice. She plopped down on the couch, before patting the seat next to her beckoning Marco over. The boy smiled, picking up his own slice, before sitting down beside her, the girl laying sideways on the couch and resting her legs on the boy’s lap as she practically inhaled the pizza slice, munching on it greedily. “It’s funny,” Star said, in between bites of food, not even bothering to swallow as she spoke in a muffled tone. “After the curse was broken, I thought we wouldn’t do that anymore” 

“Guess it had nothing to do with the curse,” Marco replied, before taking a bite of his own slice.

“Guess not,” Star said, before moaning in delight. “Oh man, Marco! This pizza is delicious!”  

Marco nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, it is! Looks like we just found our new favorite pizza place, right Star?”

Star giggled, before saying in a teasing tone, “Don’t let Emilio hear you say that, considering what happened last time.”

Marco blushed, looking away from his pretty girlfriend. “Come on, Star. That was like three years ago,” he whined in embarrassment.

Star laughed at her Marco’s cuteness before sitting up and planting a kiss on his bright red cheek. “You’re adorable,” she cooed.

“Not as adorable as you,” Marco replied with a playful smirk, his cheeks just slightly painted pink.

“Aww, Marco,” the blonde gushed, putting a hand to her flushing cheeks. “You spoil me.”

“Oh, then just wait and see what I have planned for later,” the hooded teen said with a wink.

Star’s eyes widened in curiosity, before demanding, “Ooh, tell me, tell me, tell me!”

Marco shook his head stubbornly. “Nuh uh, it’s a surprise,” the boy declared. 

“Aww come on, Marco, just tell me,” the girl pouted, crawling into his lap as she gave him sad, puppy-dog eyes. 

“Nope, your famous pout isn’t working on me this time,” the boy said, raising his head up so he wouldn’t meet her hypnotic eyes. He knew from experience how easy it was to fall into that trap.

“Oh, Marco,” Star said in a sing-song voice, grabbing his chin and pulling his head down so their eyes met. “Just tell me, pwease.” She gave him the saddest, most heart wrenching look she had in her arsenal, even going so far as to whine and quiver her lip.

Marco felt his will crack, his pupils shrinking as he stared into the gorgeous eyes of his favorite person in the world. There were few things that could sway Marco’s judgement and make him lose all sense of anything, and he was staring into one of them right now, the crystal blue of her wide eyes making his heart do a dance. 

“Ok, fine,” the boy groaned in defeat, he knew when he had been bested by his bestie. 

The blonde clapped her hands, shouting in joy, “Yay!”

He quickly moved his girlfriend off his lap, before saying, “Be right back, I left it in my room.”

“Okay!” Star called after him, practically hopping on the couch as she watched him leave. In the span of about thirty seconds Marco returned, the blonde having time to engulf another slice of the delicious pizza before staring up at her boyfriend with curious blue eyes, her cheeks still stuffed with pizza.

Marco couldn’t help but grin down at the love of his life, her expression making his heart melt all over again. Could she seriously get any cuter? he thought to himself.

“Okay, so, I was gonna wait a little bit before showing you this,” Marco began, keeping his hands behind his back so as to not spoil his surprise. “But then, someone had to go and cheat.” He gave her a halfhearted glare.

The girl swallowed her food before smirking mischievously. “Come on, you know you love me,” she said flirtingly.

The boy nodded at that before declaring with zero hesitation, “Of course I do. But that still doesn’t make it alright.” He gave her a teasing look, which she returned with one of her own.

“Hey, all’s fair in love and war, Diaz,” Star said with a playful wink.

“Anyways,” the boy continued, getting back on subject before he found himself gushing over his cute girlfriend all over again. “I figured since this is a special occasion, I’d show you this.”

He held out a pair of earbuds to Star who eyed them questioningly. “Uh, Marco, I already know you have earbuds.”

“Put one in,” Marco told her cryptically.

Star hesitantly obeyed, confusion still obvious on her face as she inserted the small circular device into her left ear. But as the soft notes hit her tender eardrum Star’s mouth fell open, listening in disbelief as the smooth melody she knew by heart played, every note practically etched into her heart. A flood of memories came back to her at once, filling her with euphoric nostalgia, as the unmistakable notes of the Blood Moon Waltz played into her ear. 

She looked up at Marco with disbelief, who had been watching her closely for her reaction and he smiled brightly. “You- How did you- Where did-” the girl stuttered, unable to find words as a lump formed in her throat, tears filling at the edges of her eyes as she choked on a small sob.

Marco stared down at her with soft, loving eyes as he asked her simply, “Do you like it?”

Star nodded, wiping at her eyes to free them of happy tears. “I love it!” she squeaked out. “How did you even find this song?”

The boy shrugged. “I have my ways.”

“Tom,” the girl guessed.

“Tom,” the boy confirmed with a slight nod. “He had a version recorded just for us.”

“I missed this song so much,” the girl sighed, melting into the music as she lost herself to the irresistible tune. 

For a few seconds, the two just listened to the graceful melody, before Marco sucked in a breath and held out a hand to his girlfriend. “May I have this dance?”

Star giggled, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet, before dropping into a graceful curtsey. “You may, kind sir.”

The two shared a laugh as they moved closer to each other, their bodies pressed together as they locked hands. Marco rested a hand on the small of Star’s back, drawing her even closer to his warm presence as he drank in her smell. She always smelled of roses and vanilla and he felt his heart rate increase as she laid her head against this chest. 

The boy then began to lead them in a slow waltz around the dimly lit living room, their movements slow but purposeful, moving perfectly in time and sync with their chosen partner. The sound of the gentle waltz drowning out the world around them until it was just the two of them, captured in this moment in time. 

Star couldn’t think of when she had been happier, surrounded by warm feelings and sounds as she listened with one ear to the graceful ball music and, with the other, was soothed by the rhythmic pumping of her dear Marco’s heartbeat. The girl snuggled into Marco’s chest after a moment, just loving having him here with her. Nothing in all of Earthni able to make her happier. 

Marco clutched Star tightly against him, listening to her gentle breathing as he rested his cheek on the top of her head, her soft hair tickling his skin, and he smiled, feeling complete. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Star in his life, and there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t thank all the forces in the universe for this chance to be loved by someone as wonderful as Star Butterfly.  

The two sighed in contentment as they let the music wash over them, taking them back to a simpler time when it was just the two of them trapped under the glow of a single red light. And just like that, it was as if they were back in that moment, time falling away from them as the music continued on an endless loop, sealing them inside its graceful notes. 

The two smiled in bliss, their cheeks beginning to burn as, without warning, a pair of hearts and crescent moons formed on their cheeks, remnants of the magical connection the two shared, one that defied logic and space itself. Nothing in the universe could separate the two again as they shared this dance. 

“Marco,” the girl whispered, her eyes still closed as she was led slowly around in a circle. 

“Hmm?” the boy muttered, incapable of words at the moment, a swirl of emotions causing his head to spin.

“I missed this,” Star said simply, her hand squeezing his tightly.

The boy paused for a moment, not entirely sure what she meant when she said ‘this’. Until he realized she meant dancing to this song and he almost choked on a sob. “Me too,” he replied softly.

“I’m glad we didn’t lose this moment,” Star continued, and Marco felt his heart swell to almost bursting. “Cause there’s no one I’d rather be here with than you. And I just have to tell you one more thing...” Then Star gently leaned her head in, gazing in wonder at Marco’s loving eyes. She took her chance to whisper something in his ear, something that caused the Latino’s cheeks to turn crimson. Marco smiled dorkily before kissing her forehead softly. “Same here, Star,” he said as their eyes met in another tender glow, pupils shining in the glow of their cheeks and candlelight, reflecting all the thoughts and feelings and emotions that had brought them to this moment. Time had lost on meaning on the two young souls as they continued their dance for what felt to them like eternity.

“Same here.”

[lysissisyl]

6 months

To @patricia-von-arundel, who is the most wonderful woman in this world and the love of my life. Thank you for changing everything. 💜

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Byleth was late. Byleth was never late. It was part of her mercenary training: timing is vital for a mercenary.

Edelgard also knew her schedule and she was always in her study at that time of the day, so why wasn’t she, today of all days? She was sitting at the table, the teapot in the middle, pastries on an elaborated tray. It had taken her 5 attempts to manage to brew tea the way Byleth did; not Bergamot this time, a rare, exotic green tea that Byleth had been looking for for a while. She really hoped she had made it right... At least she knew the pastries were good. She had spent a week practicing, burned a ton (when they actually reached the oven), made a mess balancing the ingredients more times than she could count. She probably fed all the fauna in Enbar, rats included. Damn! She threw away and distributed so many of her disasters to the animals there that one day she had found a rat waiting outside of the kitchens! She couldn’t help a yelp and had Hubert running in, his hands wrapped in dark magic, ready to fight a monster probably. He had almost pulverized the small beast. He would have if she hadn’t stopped him. She hated the damn rats, but she had seen the tiny mice waiting under a bush nearby and realized that bold critter was trying to feed its family. Thinking about family made her soft. Silly. She had taken an half burned cookie from the bag, cut it into pieces and thrown it to the rat. Then she had shut the door as fast as she could, hands shaking. Stupid. But the cookies were perfect today. So was the tea, as far as she could tell. The teapot and teacups were matching and matched the colors of the glaze: a mix of red and blue that reminded her of them. Everything was where it was supposed to be, except for Byleth. She stood up and started pacing; she went back and forth, from the table to the window, three times, then three more, to check the gardens, but also to be able to think. She looked at her own reflection in the glass. She wasn’t wearing her regalia; in its place, a much more simple attire, more practical, something that would have been comfortable enough for basically anything, fishing included. Long, stretchy, black riding pants, a jacket with golden buttons and red trimmings, a white blouse with golden embroideries barely visible under it. The high boots completed the unusual look. Her long, white hair was loose, with only the two familiar ribbons adorning it. It looked a bit different from her Garreg Mach days, a little bit more savage, perhaps, free to move when she did, occasionally forcing her to brush them aside from her eyes; it often leant on her shoulders, caressing her cheeks. She found it unnerving, but Byleth found it cute. Only six month...and she looked so different. It wasn’t just her outfit - that was just for the day - or the absence of the crown. Her posture wasn’t as tense, her eyes were still sharp, but not as angry, and the faint smile that curved her lips when she thought that it was all because of Byleth was natural and sweet. She still had bad days, she still felt overwhelmed by all the responsibilities, by how demanding her routine could be, sometimes she still felt exhausted in the evening. She still had nightmares from time to time. Not everything was perfect as the tea table set behind her, but...Byleth was there on the bad days as she was on the bright ones, reminding her everything was going to be alright. When she felt overwhelmed, she took her hand, made her take a break, let her rest her head on her shoulder and told her stories, beautiful stories and dreams. She told her about how they were making them true. When she woke up shaking from a nightmare, she could hide in her arms, listening to her heart beat until hers stopped screaming and running. The reason her shoulders and back weren’t stiff today was that Byleth had massaged them gently yesterday, washing all the tension from the day away before going to bed. She had taken that habit after seeing her in pain. Edelgard had protested more than once, but they were both stubborn and, in the end, she had realized that Byleth loved feeling her melt under her touch. She sighed at the thought: she could almost feel it... Hearing the door brought her back to reality. She blushed realizing Byleth had chosen that exact moment to come in. She shook her head to chase away that thought that still made her shiver. Even being late, her timing sure was perfect. She let out a very different sigh.

Byleth looked at the table, then at Edelgard, a warm smile making her eyes shine in a way that was getting more and more common. Edelgard had to fight the instinct to run to her and kiss her until the tea got cold. She gestured for her to sit and went back to her chair, pouring some tea for them both before doing the same. Byleth kept observing her every move, a faint smile still on her face. “Thank you, El.” “There is no reason to thank me. At least try the tea first: I don’t have your expertise.” Edelgard stared while she took a sip, almost holding her breath. Byleth  widened her eyes in surprise. “You found it! Oh, El...” Her eyes were so hard to read now, but also so warm... “it’s perfect, just perfect.” Edelgard was suddenly aware of how rigidly she was sitting. She let go. “I want to make today perfect.” “You always want to make things perfect, El.” Byleth teased. “This is different.” She was sulking just a bit, then her voice grew softer. “Today is special.” “Is it?” “Do you remember what happened six months ago?” “We won the war. Is it why we’re celebrating?” Edelgard sighed, playing with her ring with her other hand. Byleth could be so oblivious sometimes! It didn’t hurt her. She knew her well, she knew she loved her. She was just...Byleth. “It’s been six months since the day you gave me this ring, the day I knew you wanted to stay, you were choosing me...” she hesitated “forever.” Byleth tilted her head. “Why do people care about this kind of things? I love you every day, I feel lucky every day I spend by your side. Why should today be different?” Edelgard giggled. That was so very Byleth and so sweet. She didn’t care at all that she forgot about their anniversary: she just wanted to look that beautiful woman in the eyes, tell her what a gift she was and kiss the crumbs off her lips. Speaking of crumbs, Byleth was staring at the other half of a cookie in her hand. “This is peculiar.” “In what sense?” She tried to hide the worried note in her voice. “They’re different from any I’ve found around here. Very rich on cinnamon. Are the cookies exotic too?” Edelgard paled. “Is something wrong with them?” “No, not at all. I actually like them a lot. I want to know where I can find them.” Edelgard’s cheeks turned a delightful red. “I...m-made them.” “That’s great! That sure makes it easy to get more!” She looked like a happy kid. Edelgard’s smile was smug and wide. “You can have them anytime, my love.”

After finishing their tea, it was time for the next step. Edelgard had thought about that day a lot, about what Byleth would have loved, but, in the end, she had realized Byleth was still learning that herself, so the best gift she could offer her was probably a day to just improvise and discover things together. No planning for once. “I cleared my schedule for today.  As I said, I want to make this day perfect for you, so...make a wish, make all the wishes you can think of. We can do anything. Today, I’ll be the one following you.” “No plans, no organizing, no schedules, nothing?”  Byleth raised an eyebrow, teasing again. “Don’t make me regret it!” “I promise you won’t.” The smirk on her face made her wonder which troubles she had just gotten herself into.”

To Edelgard’s surprised, Byleth’s first request was to go to town for some shopping. Even stranger, she came back with an elegant pair of trousers a formal jacket and a blouse, an outfit that looked like a fancier version of what Edelgard was wearing. She sure appreciated seeing it on Byleth. She tried not to stare. And failed. Byleth giggled.

Their second stop was at a flower shop. Byleth went in alone and came out with some roses and a carnation plant in a vase. She offered it to Edelgard with a smile. “I thought you could like a plant for your study or we could keep it in our room. I prefer plants to flowers. Flowers die. This plant is something we can keep and nourish. And I want to give you life.” The look on Edelgard’s face went from confusion, to surprise, to endearment. The way Byleth thought sure was weird, but so was hers and they could understand  each other amazingly well. She had appreciated and cherished all the flowers Byleth had given her in their monastery days, but she knew she would have loved this plant a hundred times more. She loved how Byleth had started questioning things, reading them in a completely different wa now that her emotions were so much stronger. She wondered how hard and exciting everything could be to her. That was part of why she had structured the day like that, after all: she wanted Byleth to express herself.

Byleth’s third request surprised her in a different way. She asked to go by the river, right south from Embar, to the cove where it met the see. She hadn’t been there in years, so many years... Walking there with Byleth felt so nostalgic and so different at the same time… She could feel her hand in hers, holding gently, but firmly. She could feel the warmth of her skin and the marks left by the sword. Familiar. Reassuring. She had run to the cove many times in the past, wild and excited, but it was another time, another life, another El. Walking there like this felt a bit like going back, a bit like going on. She turned toward Byleth. “Have I ever told you about where my love for the opera comes from?” Byleth shook her head. “One of my older sisters was very fond of the opera. I was still too young to be brought to the theater and definitely too young to properly understand it, so were most of my brothers. One day we teased her a little too much about her daydreams and ended up making her cry, so later we wanted to surprise her, to make up for it. We asked our oldest brother; he tried to explain us what an opera play was at his best and we went to the cove and tried to set up a show for her. She was so happy and we had so much fun that we decided to make it a small ritual between us. We did it every time one of us was down or when we wanted to celebrate something. It was a way to tell each other ‘I love you’. I started to grow pretty fond of it myself. One day, my sister took us girls apart and told us our father was concerned about our future, that she could see it, that he had told her; she believed she was going to be engaged soon and that we would have followed. She was a very romantic young girl, always reading some love story or daydreaming about her future husband. She asked us to celebrate the day of her engagement with one of our plays, one inspired by the cheesy stories she liked. I said I wanted an adventurous tale for mine, full of swords and mighty fights. She told us we could all choose one, that that could be another little siblings rituals. When she told the boys, they all made faces, but they all agreed in the end. It was very silly. It was the week before I was taken to Faerghus.” She stopped, staring into the distance for a few seconds, then shook her head again. “Sorry, I rambled.” Byleth smiled. “The story of the heroic imperial princess who fought terrible monsters and saved the innocents, uh?” She glared at her. “Don’t laugh at me!” She didn’t sound truly irritated. “I’m not. Actually...that’s more or less what happened.” Edelgard’s eyes met hers. “Don’t laugh at me.” She sounded sad and bitter. “I am not. You changed everything, El.”

There was a strict passage between high rocks to cross before reaching the shore. It looked smaller now, tighter. Edelgard sure didn’t mind walking pressed against Byleth. Once they crossed it and got to the other side, she froze. There was a stage on the sand, not made of old boards and branches found on the shore, a real one. The curtains were fancy and velvety, not white sheets and colorful blankets stolen from the palace. (How many times had the servants yelled at them?) There was a huge blanket on the sand in front of the stage, with a full dinner for two displayed on it. Hubert was standing at its right. He bowed and gestured them to sit. Byleth nodded. “Thank you, Hubert.” He showed them a small grin in response. “Anything for Lady Edelgard.” Edelgard shifted her focus from one to the other, then gave Byleth a questioning look. “You hadn’t told me about that story, not until today. But...Hubert did, a few weeks ago. He was there too.” She explained. “When I told him I wanted to organize something special for you and that I was thinking about bringing you here and to the opera right after, he told me about the past. He wanted me to be aware and careful. I thought about something else.” “You...” but the curtain opened. To Edelgard’s surprise, it was Dorothea appearing on the scene. She hadn’t properly been back to the company after the war, but she still liked to perform from time to time, as a hobby now. She had convinced the Mittelfrank company to do her a favor that day. Manuela had written the script. For a while, Edelgard wondered why her former classmate wasn’t playing the main part, the emperor's part, then remembered her own words, years ago, when she had said that no story about her would have been complete without a Dorothea. The fact that she wanted to strangle both her and Byleth for making a play about her was soon forgotten, except for when Dorothea sang that song from their Garreg Mach days again. ‘Hail the mighty Edelgard...’ The mighty Edelgard was as red as her regalia. Byleth made a comment about it being a shame that she wasn’t wearing it, that earned her a very cute glare.

At the end of the play, Edelgard was at a loss for words. When Dorothea approached them and Byleth handed her the roses, she wanted to say thanks, but all that came out was “Why?” “Byleth contacted me around a month ago, telling me about her crazy plan for your anniversary, so I pulled some strings. She also helped me setting things up this morning, before Hubert could get here without raising suspicions.” She winked. That’s why she was late... Then another thought crossed Edelgard's mind, making her frown. “Anniversary?” Her eyes moved from Dorothea to Byleth. “You were wondering why people actually cared about it earlier.” Byleth grinned. “I was. And I still believe what I said. I love you every day. I feel lucky to be with you every day. Anniversaries aren’t different. But...why would I miss a chance to make you smile?” She smirked. “You liar!” Edelgard was only half-pretending to sulk. Byleth greened. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” It looked like deceiving could be vital for a mercenary too.

[thdorkmagnet]

I Love You 3000

Hey everyone!! Today I bring to you all a short Starco fluff fic, loosely based off of Avengers Endgame.This is also made in collaboration with @phantomnationdraws​ who drew the amazing piece of art to go along with this!! Please show them some love because there talent knows no limits!! And please enjoy!!

Marco ran up the driveway of his house, panting from exertion as he jogged steadily on the uneven ground, clutching a large box tightly in his hands, making sure not to ruin the steaming hot pizza inside. He didn’t slow for a second, keeping his focus and attention entirely on the front door to his house, which he kicked open without hesitation, lacking the hands to turn the doorknob, already knowing it was left unlocked. After all, any burglar dumb enough to try and break in would find himself biting off way more than he could chew, since both he and Star were well trained in combat. 

The red-clad teen was breathing heavily as he stepped into the living room of his wonderful home, the lights all turned off and what had to be at least a dozen candles all lit and scattered about the room, creating an absolutely breathtaking and romantic atmosphere. The boy used the back of his foot to close the door behind him, before calling out loudly to his seemingly empty house, “Star, I’m home!” 

Normally, he would keep his voice down this late at night out of fear of waking his family up but both Mariposa and his parents were gone for the night, his sister to stay overnight with her best friend Meteora and his parents away on an overnight camping trip in the Forest of Certain Death with Star’s parents (the four adults becoming very close friends in the few years since the Great Cleaving), leaving the house to just him and Star. Just the way they wanted it. 

The boy took a few steps forward, looking around for his girlfriend somewhere in the darkness of the room, only to be practically toppled over as Star appeared out of nowhere and trapped him in a surprise hug. “Marco!” she shouted in delight, squeezing him as tightly as ever, while the hooded teen screamed, holding the box over his head to avoid dropping it as Star continued to cling to his midsection. “I’m so glad you’re back!” the blonde cheered, her voice as bubbly as ever and the boy couldn’t help but grin.

“Yep, I’m back,” Marco said with an enthusiastic smile down at his loving girlfriend. “Sorry it took me so long, Emilio’s was closed after a herd of Snippergriffs apparently got inside, so I had to improvise.”

Star rolled her eyes, finally releasing her grip on her Marco, putting her hands on her hips. “Ugh, dang, Snippergriffs, they ruin everything!” the blonde muttered angrily, cursing the very nature of the pesky critters of her homeland. 

Marco, seeing his girlfriend’s distraught behavior, quickly changed the subject as he looked around the room, which almost radiated with an otherworldly glow. “I see you were busy while I was gone.” 

Star’s bright enthusiasm returned full-force as she looked around the room with pride, saying with satisfaction, “Yeah, I thought this way it would all be much more romantic.” She arched her eyebrows knowingly on the last word, causing Marco to chuckle. “Do you like it?” the girl asked hopefully, her hands hovering near her mouth in anticipation for her boyfriend’s opinion.

The boy nodded happily. “I love it! It’s perfect, Star,” Marco said, setting the pizza down on a nearby coffee table. “Now then, do you know what today is?” the boy asked, doing little finger guns in the air for emphasis.

“Uhh,” Star began, thinking the question over. “Date night?”

Marco shook his head, “Well, yeah but you know what else it is?”

“Hmmm,” the blonde said, tapping a finger to her chin. “Friendship Thursday?”

The hooded teen frowned in disappointment, asking in a hinting tone, “Anything else?”

Star contemplated this for a few seconds, the boy growing more and more disappointed with each passing second before Star snapped her fingers and said confidently, “The last day for Stop N’ Slurp’s half-off sale.”

Marco shrank at that answer, looking sadly at the ground. He couldn’t believe Star had forgotten how special today was. The blonde seeing the depressed look on her boyfriend’s face, quickly added, “Marco, I’m just teasing of course I know what today is.”

The latino’s sad frown turned into a bright grin as he and Star shouted as one, “The anniversary of the Blood Moon Ball!” The two burst out into laughter at their shared sentence, Star clutching her stomach as she practically doubled-over from her giggle fit, Marco very lightly grabbing onto the girl’s shoulders to keep her upright as he tried to fight through his own laughter. Finally, the two recovered from their laughing fit, wiping tears from their eyes as Marco said, “Can’t believe we still do that.”

“I know, right,” Star said, opening the box of pizza and taking out a slice. She plopped down on the couch, before patting the seat next to her beckoning Marco over. The boy smiled, picking up his own slice, before sitting down beside her, the girl laying sideways on the couch and resting her legs on the boy’s lap as she practically inhaled the pizza slice, munching on it greedily. “It’s funny,” Star said, in between bites of food, not even bothering to swallow as she spoke in a muffled tone. “After the curse was broken, I thought we wouldn’t do that anymore” 

“Guess it had nothing to do with the curse,” Marco replied, before taking a bite of his own slice.

“Guess not,” Star said, before moaning in delight. “Oh man, Marco! This pizza is delicious!”  

Marco nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, it is! Looks like we just found our new favorite pizza place, right Star?”

Star giggled, before saying in a teasing tone, “Don’t let Emilio hear you say that, considering what happened last time.”

Marco blushed, looking away from his pretty girlfriend. “Come on, Star. That was like three years ago,” he whined in embarrassment.

Star laughed at her Marco’s cuteness before sitting up and planting a kiss on his bright red cheek. “You’re adorable,” she cooed.

“Not as adorable as you,” Marco replied with a playful smirk, his cheeks just slightly painted pink.

“Aww, Marco,” the blonde gushed, putting a hand to her flushing cheeks. “You spoil me.”

“Oh, then just wait and see what I have planned for later,” the hooded teen said with a wink.

Star’s eyes widened in curiosity, before demanding, “Ooh, tell me, tell me, tell me!”

Marco shook his head stubbornly. “Nuh uh, it’s a surprise,” the boy declared. 

“Aww come on, Marco, just tell me,” the girl pouted, crawling into his lap as she gave him sad, puppy-dog eyes. 

“Nope, your famous pout isn’t working on me this time,” the boy said, raising his head up so he wouldn’t meet her hypnotic eyes. He knew from experience how easy it was to fall into that trap.

“Oh, Marco,” Star said in a sing-song voice, grabbing his chin and pulling his head down so their eyes met. “Just tell me, pwease.” She gave him the saddest, most heart wrenching look she had in her arsenal, even going so far as to whine and quiver her lip.

Marco felt his will crack, his pupils shrinking as he stared into the gorgeous eyes of his favorite person in the world. There were few things that could sway Marco’s judgement and make him lose all sense of anything, and he was staring into one of them right now, the crystal blue of her wide eyes making his heart do a dance. 

“Ok, fine,” the boy groaned in defeat, he knew when he had been bested by his bestie. 

The blonde clapped her hands, shouting in joy, “Yay!”

He quickly moved his girlfriend off his lap, before saying, “Be right back, I left it in my room.”

“Okay!” Star called after him, practically hopping on the couch as she watched him leave. In the span of about thirty seconds Marco returned, the blonde having time to engulf another slice of the delicious pizza before staring up at her boyfriend with curious blue eyes, her cheeks still stuffed with pizza.

Marco couldn’t help but grin down at the love of his life, her expression making his heart melt all over again. Could she seriously get any cuter? he thought to himself.

“Okay, so, I was gonna wait a little bit before showing you this,” Marco began, keeping his hands behind his back so as to not spoil his surprise. “But then, someone had to go and cheat.” He gave her a halfhearted glare.

The girl swallowed her food before smirking mischievously. “Come on, you know you love me,” she said flirtingly.

The boy nodded at that before declaring with zero hesitation, “Of course I do. But that still doesn’t make it alright.” He gave her a teasing look, which she returned with one of her own.

“Hey, all’s fair in love and war, Diaz,” Star said with a playful wink.

“Anyways,” the boy continued, getting back on subject before he found himself gushing over his cute girlfriend all over again. “I figured since this is a special occasion, I’d show you this.”

He held out a pair of earbuds to Star who eyed them questioningly. “Uh, Marco, I already know you have earbuds.”

“Put one in,” Marco told her cryptically.

Star hesitantly obeyed, confusion still obvious on her face as she inserted the small circular device into her left ear. But as the soft notes hit her tender eardrum Star’s mouth fell open, listening in disbelief as the smooth melody she knew by heart played, every note practically etched into her heart. A flood of memories came back to her at once, filling her with euphoric nostalgia, as the unmistakable notes of the Blood Moon Waltz played into her ear. 

She looked up at Marco with disbelief, who had been watching her closely for her reaction and he smiled brightly. “You- How did you- Where did-” the girl stuttered, unable to find words as a lump formed in her throat, tears filling at the edges of her eyes as she choked on a small sob.

Marco stared down at her with soft, loving eyes as he asked her simply, “Do you like it?”

Star nodded, wiping at her eyes to free them of happy tears. “I love it!” she squeaked out. “How did you even find this song?”

The boy shrugged. “I have my ways.”

“Tom,” the girl guessed.

“Tom,” the boy confirmed with a slight nod. “He had a version recorded just for us.”

“I missed this song so much,” the girl sighed, melting into the music as she lost herself to the irresistible tune. 

For a few seconds, the two just listened to the graceful melody, before Marco sucked in a breath and held out a hand to his girlfriend. “May I have this dance?”

Star giggled, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet, before dropping into a graceful curtsey. “You may, kind sir.”

The two shared a laugh as they moved closer to each other, their bodies pressed together as they locked hands. Marco rested a hand on the small of Star’s back, drawing her even closer to his warm presence as he drank in her smell. She always smelled of roses and vanilla and he felt his heart rate increase as she laid her head against this chest. 

The boy then began to lead them in a slow waltz around the dimly lit living room, their movements slow but purposeful, moving perfectly in time and sync with their chosen partner. The sound of the gentle waltz drowning out the world around them until it was just the two of them, captured in this moment in time. 

Star couldn’t think of when she had been happier, surrounded by warm feelings and sounds as she listened with one ear to the graceful ball music and, with the other, was soothed by the rhythmic pumping of her dear Marco’s heartbeat. The girl snuggled into Marco’s chest after a moment, just loving having him here with her. Nothing in all of Earthni able to make her happier. 

Marco clutched Star tightly against him, listening to her gentle breathing as he rested his cheek on the top of her head, her soft hair tickling his skin, and he smiled, feeling complete. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Star in his life, and there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t thank all the forces in the universe for this chance to be loved by someone as wonderful as Star Butterfly.  

The two sighed in contentment as they let the music wash over them, taking them back to a simpler time when it was just the two of them trapped under the glow of a single red light. And just like that, it was as if they were back in that moment, time falling away from them as the music continued on an endless loop, sealing them inside its graceful notes. 

The two smiled in bliss, their cheeks beginning to burn as, without warning, a pair of hearts and crescent moons formed on their cheeks, remnants of the magical connection the two shared, one that defied logic and space itself. Nothing in the universe could separate the two again as they shared this dance. 

“Marco,” the girl whispered, her eyes still closed as she was led slowly around in a circle. 

“Hmm?” the boy muttered, incapable of words at the moment, a swirl of emotions causing his head to spin.

“I missed this,” Star said simply, her hand squeezing his tightly.

The boy paused for a moment, not entirely sure what she meant when she said ‘this’. Until he realized she meant dancing to this song and he almost choked on a sob. “Me too,” he replied softly.

“I’m glad we didn’t lose this moment,” Star continued, and Marco felt his heart swell to almost bursting. “Cause there’s no one I’d rather be here with than you. And I just have to tell you one more thing...” Then Star gently leaned her head in, gazing in wonder at Marco’s loving eyes. She took her chance to whisper something in his ear, something that caused the Latino’s cheeks to turn crimson. Marco smiled dorkily before kissing her forehead softly. “Same here, Star,” he said as their eyes met in another tender glow, pupils shining in the glow of their cheeks and candlelight, reflecting all the thoughts and feelings and emotions that had brought them to this moment. Time had lost on meaning on the two young souls as they continued their dance for what felt to them like eternity.

“Same here.”

[tallestsilver]

Disneyland Modern AU

For @littlelonghairedoutlaw‘s PotO AU Fic Contest! Summary: While at Disneyland, Christine is determined to make Erik have fun and figure out his favorite ride.  Rating: PG or K+  Ship: Erik/Christine kinda. More friendly than romantic  AU: Modern

“Erik, please at least try to enjoy yourself.”

A noncommittal exhalation of breath, too light to be a grunt, was the response. The dour look on Erik’s face only worsened as more people lined up behind them, becoming more crowded. “The ‘Happiest Place on Earth’, indeed,” he monotoned. 

Christine sighed in exasperation and rummaged through her petite backpack as the line moved a step closer to the entrance to the park. “Look, I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t like at least one-” she held up her index finger to emphasize her point, “-one thing at Disneyland.” She withdrew a set of plain Minnie Ears, complete with a pink bow and situated it on top of her head. It barely peaked out from her massive amount of fluffy curls, but it remained steadfast. “You cannot be serious with that ridiculous thing.”

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do!” “I have been to Rome and they certainly do not care about the doings of tourists. They would rather-” “Erik, it’s just an expression,” Christine said with a roll of her eyes as he continued muttering about barbarians. Perhaps this was not the best idea she had come up with. She was determined to have fun with Erik in one of her favorite places, but he always had to make things more difficult. His rotten mood would not spoil her magical day, and she was focused on making his day magical as well.

“You said you wanted to go with me,” she reminded him as she passed her ticket along to the taker. A scant, a delightful tinkling of approval, and she passed through the turnstile. 

She waited on the other side, watching Erik fidget with his hands and recheck his prosthetic nose, complete with fake mustache. He was overly anxious, she realized, with a sinking feeling. He was denied his mask, for they were not allowed in the park, and so he settled on some makeup and a detachable nose. Despite his disguise, he wore dark shades to try and hide himself as much as possible. 

Erik held his breath and passed through the turnstile, as if he was going to be tackled by security and thrown out of the Magic Kingdom, and worse yet, be tossed into California Adventure, but he passed through without any protestations. He exhaled in relief. “Well, now we’re here so let’s get on with it,” he said. Christine grinned and grabbed his arm. “First stop, the Mad Hatter’s!”

“WHAT?” 

Walking at a determined pace, but walking nevertheless, Christine pulled Erik by the elbow straight down Mainstreet. They passed by window panels that depicted scenes of various Disney movies. “These were my favorite as a kid,” she told him, imitating a grinning Ariel rocking back and forth. “They would release the whole movie in these little scenes for whatever came out that year. They stopped doing that, though…” 

Erik leaned in and inspected the window next to hers. Cinderella was waltzing with Prince Charming, the clock tower looming behind them. 

“Let’s go!” And he was yoinked away. Christine inhaled the intoxicating aromas wafting throughout the street as they headed toward Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. Confections enticing her with their sweet promises nearly stopped her in her tracks, but she had one thought in mind that she dare not tell Erik until they arrived in Fantasyland. “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” he declared as she held up a simple black Mickey hat. “Everyone gets one, Erik!” Christine said joyously. Despite his black sunglasses, she could feel his piercing gaze. 

“Christine, you’re wasting your time and your money.” She handed over the money to the cashier, who was eyeing Erik with uncertainty. “Ma’am, we have other hats that-” “Just ignore him. He’ll grow to love it.” “Would you like that embroidered?” “NO HE WOULD NOT,” Erik interjected. “Yes please! Erik, if you wouldn’t mind. That’s E-R-I-K. No ‘C’.” “We will do that in one moment!”

“Wonderful! Thank you!” 

The embroidery machine whirred to life as Christine turned back to Erik with a grin to match the Cheshire Cat’s above her. 

“Fie, a pox on both your houses,” he glowered at her, but she just continued to smile without regard to his fuming. 

“Hate me all you want, but this will help you blend in with everyone else.” She was handed the Mickey Ears, smartly embroidered in swirling yellow letters with “Erik”. She stood on her tip toes and snugly placed it on top of Erik’s head, securing the elastic bad around his chin. “There! You can throw it away after today, but for now, you’ll have plenty of Disney fun with me!”

He slumped his shoulders in defeat. “If I must…” “You must!” Christine told him cheerfully, because damn it all, she was going to make sure this day was fun for him. Even if it killed her. 

Or even if it killed him. 

At Christine’s insistence, they hit Fantasyland first, “since we’re already here,” she explained, “although Adventureland is the best, by far.” His arms were tightly folded on the Mad Tea Party Teacups, as Christine dutifully spun them faster and faster, laughing all the while. His sour disposition never faltered through Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, or King Arthur’s Carousel. Christine could have sworn she saw the slightest crack of a smile on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride upon their exit into Hell. But however quick it might have been, it vanished before she could have been certain. 

“Now I know this next one will be your favorite!” She cheered gleefully as they soared up and down through the air on Dumbo - 

“-a character who faced discrimination and torment on a daily basis until he had capital value,” Erik commented with a growl. 

Christine’s face fell as their Dumbo rose up into the air with the other elephants before making their descent. “You don’t have to put it like that…” she said softly. She shook her head, “no matter! Dumbo isn’t your favorite.”

As they exited the ride, she stuck her chin out defiantly and posed like Peter Pan. “We will find what you like today!”

Erik adjusted his dark glasses delicately, avoiding too much contact with his fake nose. “That’s highly unlikely.”

__________________________________________________________

By the afternoon’s end, Christine was in a slump. The cheer had been sapped from her, despite her earlier exuberance. She sat defeated on a bench in New Orleans Square, face cradled in her hands. Even her hair lost its usual fluffy bounce, and her curls were bedraggled. Erik approached her, holding two churros from the nearby cart. Christine made no acknowledgment of him. “Christine, I acquired the confection you demanded.”

She rotated her body away from him and focused on Tom Sawyer’s Island. She watched as the raft loaded with people and drifted away from them, toward the island.  

“Christine?”

She continued to ignore him and instead gazed at all the happy families, couples, and others enjoying their time in the park.

Erik stiffly sat beside her, his body rigid in a perfect posture, holding out the churros mechanically. He stared out alongside her, in the direction of her gaze.

“Christine, you are obviously upset, and it is highly likely that the variable that caused you to be upset is me.” He took an audible breath, and continued to stare straight ahead, but Christine shifted her gaze to him. “I cannot begin to rectify the situation and my behavior if all I can infer is that you are sullen.” 

Her mouth was set in a line, not willing to smile or frown. Yes, she was irritated with him, and this false way of apologizing without outright doing it grated on her nerves. At least he was trying to be a bit more considerate to her emotions.

“Yes, Erik, I’m ‘sullen.’ Any suggestion I have, you immediately turn it into something negative. I’m trying to show you something you’ll enjoy, but you keep nit-picking and draining all the fun out of it!” 

“That’s hardly the case-” Erik began to counter, but Christine cut him off. “-YES, it is!” She stuck out her hand and began counting on her fingers all the dismissals and critiques he had. “You hated Tomorrowland because you complained about all the outdated technology and how you could create better animatronics.”

“Why have a ride that is essentially recreating the traffic we experienced to even get to this park? It’s absurd!” “You didn’t like Space Mountain because you calculated the speed and scoffed at how slow it actually was.” “It’s all illusions, Christine. It’s only 28 miles per hour-” 

She shoved another finger in his face and she continued her infraction count, “- you were utterly disinterested in Big Thunder Mountain,” “-ain’t, Christine. Thar ain’t no way that would appeal to me. And the excavation of that Tyrannosaurus is completely ludicrous-” “-You were whining all throughout ‘Galaxy’s Edge’,” “I was just saying the Empire is a bunch of fascists and the Rebels are terrorists-” “IT’S STAR WARS, ERIK!!” Christine shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. “AND THEN when we went to Critter Country,” “-crawling with tiny children I might add-” “-you described the Winnie the Pooh ride as a fevered dream you had on opium once,” “-to be fair, it was a rather good dream-” “-and then you kept saying how exploitative Song of the South was and ruined Splash Mountain. HOW DID YOU MANAGE NOT TO GET WET? I’m STILL ringing out my hair and that was nearly an hour ago!” 

“One can take a measured approach to these things, my dear-”

“-AND you would not SHUT UP about how historically inaccurate Pirates of the Caribbean was!” “NO ONE,” Erik rose to his feet, “IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, HAS EVER WORN HATS THAT LOOK LIKE BUCKETS! THERE’S NO HISTORY HERE, CHRISTINE!”

Christine jumped to her feet and stood defiantly to Erik, despite him still looming over her, “IT’S A RIDE, ERIK! IT’S MAKE BELIEVE! PRETEND! IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE FUN!!”

“BUCKET-HATS!!”

As the two of them panted in their frustrations, a baby somewhere nearby began crying. Christine broke first and flopped back down on the bench with a groan. “I just wanted you to enjoy yourself.” She slowly removed her headband and traced her fingers over the Minnie Ears. “This place means so much to me… My Dad and I would-” her nose got that peculiar warm tickle that means tears were soon to follow. She shook her head to rid herself of that anguish. “Disneyland is just my happy place, and I wanted to share that with you, too.” Erik lowered himself down onto the ground, to look up at Christine as she fought her emotions. He removed his dark sunglasses to be more open with the woman sitting in front of him. “I have been having fun,” he told her softly. “Perhaps my enjoyment of things is more unconventional, but spending this day with you is more precious to me than anything else.” A half-smile appeared on her lips. “Crowds and all?” He offered her the churro as he rose from the ground to sit beside her. “Suffocating crowds and all.” 

Christine smiled into her churro, biting into it quietly as she and Erik sat in thought. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His entire body tensed and grew rigid at the sudden intimacy, but he slowly relaxed. He hesitantly lifted his arm, and with taking pause, wrapped it around Christine’s shoulders. Christine had nearly finished half of her churro before Erik finally tasted his own. The crispy sweet crust pairing with the fluffy light middle delighted him. “Christine!” He exclaimed, “these are incredible!” “Yeah, Erik. Disneyland churros are amazing. I always need to have one. OH! And the beignets, too.” “I don’t think you fully comprehend the magnificence of this pastry! It’s entirely delightful!” He took another bite, “sweet, but not overpowering!” Another bite. “The delicate taste of cinnamon!” Another, “the exquisite crunch with the decadent exterior!” 

Christine covered her mouth with her hand, struggling to keep from laughing at Erik’s sudden enthusiasm. As he continued exclaiming his delight, probably with more gusto for Christine’s benefit, the adhesive on his prosthetic nose began to disintegrate. Her amusement quickly turned into concern, knowing how poorly he would react if it fell off. “Erik,” Christine cautioned him, suddenly serious, “Erik, maybe you shouldn’t-” And that’s precisely when his nose fell into his lap. 

Erik yelped several octaves higher than Christine thought he was physically able to, clamping his hands over his face instinctively. His mustache hung limply above his thin lips, exposing the jagged scar of his former cleft palate that ran up to his nose cavity.

The cry made several people look in their direction, certainly not aiding in Erik’s mortification. “The poor guy dropped his churro!” Christine explained, putting on her Stage Voice and gesturing to the fallen delicacy. 

That seemed to satisfy the onlookers as Erik curled up on himself, hiding his face as best he could. Christine rubbed his hunched back soothingly as he silently suffered. “Shh, shh... Erik it’s okay! There’s a bathroom nearby where you can apply it again. Although honestly,” she said with a shrug, “no one will care if you don’t reapply it. There are so many people who come here with all different backgrounds and abilities that-” “Christine, save me your princess fairy tales for the moment,” Erik hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m more Victor Hugo’s Hunchback than Walt Disney’s, and people aren’t kind no matter where or when we are. Or perhaps I should just kidnap a princess into being my prisoner like some kind of Beast. That will turn out well!” 

Silenced by his sardonic words, Christine helped him to his feet, and hurried him along to the restrooms in New Orleans Square. They were mercifully close, and as Christine was just about to tell him as such, a small boy approached Erik. “Jack Skewwington!” He squealed gleefully, bouncing up and down, pointing at Erik and back at his shirt that displayed the character. 

Christine had to bite her lips to keep from laughing and making the situation worse as Erik blushed in fury. The mustache had vanished somewhere along their short walk, fully exposing Erik’s death-like face. 

The small boy hugged Erik’s spindly legs in his delight at finding the Pumpkin King. 

Erik’s jaw clenched, unsure of what to do. His hands flexed into fists at his side, wanting to throw the child off of him or pat him on the head awkwardly.

“Owen!!” Cried a nearby woman, running up to the boy. “I don’t think he likes that, honey,” She held out her hand to Owen and beckoned him back to her. “But Auntie Pwincess...” he whined taking her hand. She turned to Erik, “I’m sorry, your Disney-bound is really good. He thought you were Jack,” she said breathlessly, trying to excuse the young boy’s behavior. “It’s FINE!” Christine interjected before Erik could say anything, “he gets that all the time. You gotta keep the secret, okay?” She pressed her finger to her lips and winked at the boy. “Have a good Halloween!” She waved to the pair as Owen waved back. “Bye bye!”

Erik stood there in shock, unable to process what had happened. Christine handed him a tube of eyelash glue and his fallen nose. He took them mechanically and left to enter the restroom. After a few minutes, he returned, adjusting his sunglasses back on his face and lightly tapping his raw upper lip. A few flecks of glue remained, but only Christine would notice. “I suppose that’s what you get for wearing black pinstripes at Disneyland,” she laughed sheepishly, trying to make light of the situation.

“I’d rather not discuss it,” he said, with all of his curt authority, but there was a certain softness to his voice. “Where to next?” He asked Christine, offering his arm with jerking, stilted movements. She took it and smiled. “My favorite ride, but you have to promise not to criticize it!” Erik gave her a mock aghast look. “I would NEVER-!” “Erik. Promise me.” “Oh, all right, I promise. I’ll hold my tongue. Now which one is it?”

Christine lifted her arm to the towering manor before them. “The Haunted Mansion!”

“Haunted, hmmm? I should really leave my card if they want a proper Phantom…” Ignoring him, Christine giggled with excitement, bouncing not too unlike their little visitor from before, and dragged Erik along behind her. She was all but skipping through the Pet Cemetery and pointed out all the puns on the various tombstones and mausoleums.

“I. M. Mortal? The evidence proves the contrary, sir,” Erik said. Christine shot him a dirty look and he held up his hands in innocence. “It was a joke, Christine! They’re all deceased.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him and whipped her hair at him with a small, “hmpf!” She strolled quickly into the front doors of the mansion as a glassy eyed Castmember ushered them in with a deadpan, “look alive. Right this way.”

Erik squeezed his way past through the bodies of the crowd to get back to Christine’s side. She gazed up at the foyer in awe, excitement vibrating from her being. 

“When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls.” Christine clasped her hands in giddiness, mouthing the words along with Paul Frees’s narration. “Whenever candlelights flicker where the air is deathly still — that is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight!” “... well I feel called out,” whispered Erik in Christine’s ear. Christine snorted in laughter.

“Welcome, foolish mortals, to the Haunted Mansion. I am your host, your Ghost Host. Kindly step all the way in please, and make room for everyone. There’s no turning back now.” One of the walls opened to reveal another room. The group shuffled their way in as another Castmember stated in the deepest voice he could muster, “Drag your bodies away from the walls and into the dead center of the room.”

“Are these puns going to continue throughout this journey?” “Yes, Erik!” Christine hissed at him in a whisper. “And if you don’t like it-” “Our tour begins here in this gallery, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state.”

“You misunderstand, I love it entirely.” Erik looked longingly at Christine, aching to make her happy. She inadvertently was standing similarly to the ballerina-tight rope walker portrait stretching just behind her.  

“Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination — hmm?” 

“Oh. Well good!” The smile she gave him was dazzling. 

“And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows and no doors… which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!” Christine echoed the laugh of the Ghost Host with chilling accuracy.  “Of course... there’s always my way-!”

Christine released a practiced blood curdling scream as lightning flashed and the hanged body of the host appeared above them. Erik jumped at her terrifying cry, but she was still smiling in delight. The lights flickered back on and a door slid open revealing another hallway in the labyrinthine manor. “Ohhh, I didn’t mean to frighten you prematurely,” Christine cooed along with the dialogue, smirking at Erik. “The real chills come later. Now, as they say, ‘look alive,’ and we’ll continue our little tour. And let’s all stay together, please.” “I was concerned about your safety,” he huffed, a slight blush rising to his sunken cheeks. He adjusted his Mickey Ears as they had skewed in his jump. “You were scared, just admit it!” Christine laughed as they walked through the hallway, where the curtained windows showed a thunderstorm raging outside the Mansion. To their right, more portraits flickered with the lightning, showing not all was as it seemed. 

“Christine,” Erik said sensibly, “a hanged body is something that does not frighten me.”

“I’m going to ignore that,” Christine told him, peering at the two busts whose faces turned to follow them down the line queue. 

“There are several prominent ghosts who have retired here from creepy old crypts all over the world. Actually, we have 999 happy haunts here — but there’s room for 1,000. Any volunteers?”

Christine nudged Erik with her elbow. “They’re looking for a new ghost. Need a new job?”

“If you insist on lagging behind, you may not need to volunteer.”

Erik tapped his finger against his lips in thought. “That’s not a bad notion…” “You’re not ACTUALLY considering it, are you Erik?” The two of them stepped onto the moving walkway and slid into their doom buggy carriage to whisk them off into the bowels of the mansion.

“Why not,” he mused. “Put my skills to the test, and so far, I am pleased with the traditional techniques they’ve been utilizing for their optical illusions.” The safety bar lowered on them, bumping against Erik’s gangling legs. “I find the older tricks are the most effective.” 

“We find it delightfully unlivable here in this ghostly retreat. Every room has wall-to-wall creeps, and hot and cold running chills. Shhh, listen!”

Their ghostly carriage rocked and swayed, providing them the direction where to look as they journeyed down the Corridor of Doors. A floating candelabra surrounded by a hall of mirrors that led to nowhere illuminated the scene to the right as groans from a moving casket cried out on their left. Leering eyes warped the wallpaper pattern into a frightful brocade as narration continued. 

Christine cooed in contentment as she leaned back in the Doom Buggy and watched the creeping horrors as they passed by. Several doors rattled and growled with threats of danger on the other side. 

“Ha! They used the effect revolutionized in ‘The Haunting,’” Erik hummed in his amusement as they passed by a particularly intimidating bulging door, the wood creaking with every ‘breath’ of movement.  “In fact,” he craned his neck around and tried to carefully observe the other doors, despite moving away from them, “this whole hallway is...a marvel...” Christine gave Erik her best vacant expression and told him, “the house is alive..!” He actually chuckled at her reference. Christine was pleased at his amusement. 

“It’s about time you found something you like-” But she was cut off by the seance Madame Leota was conducting as they swiveled into a pitch black room with instruments floating all around them. 

“OoooOooh, a medium,” Erik wiggled his spidery fingers in sarcastic spookiness, “how obnoxious,” he scoffed, but his smile remained. 

“Do not mock the great Madame Leota!” “Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween, awaken the spirits with your tambourine!”

Their vehicle turned and face the Seer, to reveal she was not seated at her seance table in front of the crystal ball. Rather, she was a disembodied head inside the ball, floating above the table. The jingling beat of a tambourine was the response, as if the ghosts of the mansion were responding to her words. 

“Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond, let there be music from regions beyond!” Music began to play as they were ushered from Leota’s chamber and into more darkness. Their Ghost Host whispered in their ears as they ventured deeper into the Mansion. “The happy haunts have received your sympathetic vibrations and are beginning to materialize. They’re assembling for a swinging wake, and they’ll be expecting me… I’ll see you all a little later.”

The organ music swelled around them with the melody of the mansion as ghostly apparitions began swirling in a waltz in a ballroom before them. Duelists stepped out of their portraits to fire, spirits were piling in from a crashed carriage, gathering around to feast on the rotten food on an elongated table. And a man in a top hat played the organ with great vigor, despite it being off-key. 

“The Pepper’s Ghost illusion, of course,” Erik whispered to himself.

“My favorite part!” Christine squealed in a hushed voice. “Yes,” he murmured, entranced as well, his eyes focused on the organ player, “I can see why…” Listening to the repeating music, his finger unconsciously swayed to it, as though he was conducting it and learning along. Christine hummed along, dancing in her seat as they turned away from the spectacle and into the attic, where the thudding of a heartbeat echoed in their heads. Scattered before them were portraits of various couples in their wedding attire. The woman, all the same in each one and smiling pleasantly, but every groom was different. Then, the swing of an axe, and the heads of the grooms vanished. A piano with only the shadow of a pianist played a discordant wedding march. At the end of the attic, was Constance Hatchaway, the bride herself, in her glowing ethereal splendor. “I do,” she whispered innocently, her bouquet revealing an axe, “...and I did,” she hissed, the axe shining with light. “Here comes the bride…”

“I know I’m desperate,” Erik remarked, “but I’m not that desperate for a bride.” 

Christine scoffed, “you sure about that? OH! HERE HE IS! THE HATBOX GHOST!”

Christine leaned forward as they left the attic and a ghost with skeletal features, not too unlike the man sitting next to her, appeared. He wore a magnificent top hat and a hatbox hung from his hand. His eyes looked suspiciously around before he laughed sinisterly. His face suddenly vanished from his body and reappeared inside his hatbox.

Their carriage tilted backward away from the mansion and into the backyard cemetery. Christine laughed and clapped her hands in delight.  

“What was so remarkable about him?” Erik puzzled. 

“The rumor of the Hatbox Ghost is amazing! He was put into the Mansion on the opening days, but then he vanished!” “The animatronic… vanished?” “Yes! They never saw it again! They just put him back in a couple of years ago. But can you imagine? Almost fifty years without Hattie and his image is all through the mansion! But now he’s back and better than ever!” The recurring music suddenly shifted from melancholy and dour to exuberant and lively. A raven cawed at them during their descent out of the main house and into the graveyard. They passed the terrified groundskeeper and his dog, both trembling in fear as the ghosts and corpses rose from their graves to have a frightening soiree.  

Christine bounced along to the music and sang along to the macabre choir, 

“When the crypt doors creak and the tombstones quake,

Spooks come out for a swinging wake.

Happy haunts materialize and begin to vocalize. 

Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize!

Now, don’t close your eyes and don’t try to hide,

For a silly spook may sit by your side.

Shrouded in a daft disguise, they pretend to terrorize.

Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize!

As the moon climbs high o’er the dead oak tree,

Spooks arrive for the midnight spree.

Creepy creeps with eerie eyes start to shriek and harmonize.

Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize!

When you hear the knell of a requiem bell,

Weird glows gleam where spirits dwell.

Restless bones etherealize, rise as spooks of every size!

She cackled and continued right from the top again. Ghosts popped up from behind tombstones, a Mummy was having tea, four busts sang very expressively, and several opera singers belted out their tunes. 

Erik nudged his elbow against Christine and nodded to a large woman’s ghost with long Valkyrie braids, projecting out her notes. “I wasn’t aware Carlotta was employed here!”

Christine sputtered in laughter as they left the graveyard only to be accosted by three hitchhiking ghosts, thumbing their way out. 

“Ah, there you are!” The Ghost Host’s voice cooed, “and just in time… there’s a little matter I forgot to mention — beware of hitchhiking ghosts! They have selected you to fill our quota, and they’ll haunt you until you return! Now I will raise the safety bar, and a ghost will follow you home!”

Christine wiggled in her seat, eagerly peering in the mirrors displayed before them to see which ghost would select them. However, all that they saw were their own reflections, Erik doing everything he could to avoid looking at himself “That’s odd… it must be down… usually a ghost appears next to you…” She looked over at Erik, who shrugged in response. 

“...nevermind, a ghost is next to me,” she commented dryly. 

A lulling melody lured them out of their Doom Buggy as the bar lifted and they stepped out onto the moving platform. Christine looked back as her palm sought the handrail, carrying them back up to the world above. “Hurry baaaack… Hurry baaaack…” The small bride-like figure of Little Leota taunted them as they headed upward. Erik rested his hand on Christine’s shoulder. “Oh, we plan to.” Christine gasped in delight, her eyes sparkling with unmitigated joy. “Again?”

Erik nodded, “how else am I to construct a summer home?”

[kinsbin]

Fitting

Title: Fitting  Word Count: 2003 Ship: Ug/Alexys [Canon/Self Insert]

Summary: While Ug is away on a mission, he leaves behind one of his bounty hunter outfits. Alexys, missing her boyfriend and longing to be near him again, figures it will be a good substitute for him until he returns home...Which is sooner than she expects. 

Author’s Note: Second writing commission for @bad-blue-moon-rising​ of her and Ug from Critters! 

He had been gone for a while now. Not as long as some missions, but, definitely longer than others.

It left Alexys in a limbo of loneliness. With no one in her home to talk with or stay up to watch movies with, she had found herself doing most of the things in her life alone. Regressing back into a state of how she was before she met him, it was obvious to anyone who looked at her face that she missed Ug. That she missed having him by her side. While she respected both his job and his origins, never wanting to keep him away from the stars he so fondly talked of to her on nights they spent together, she could not help but be a bit jealous of them when it came down to it. Why did the stars, so far away and fragile in their standing against the atmosphere, have to hold Ug closer than she could to her own heart? To her own body?

The loneliness was only slightly bearable, simply because of the things he had left behind.

Her hands ran along the ridges of the leftover suit. The mission, he insisted, would go smoothly. He had no need to bring with him the extra hunting suit he kept with him in case of emergencies or damage to his primary one. This left it back on earth, with Alexys, kept in their shared bedroom for safe keeping. Every time her gaze held against it, her heart skipped a beat. Her chest warmed with awe. The scent that floated from it and to her nostrils was so uniquely Ug that she felt homesickness from just its presence. It was easier to call it homesickness. He was home, after all. Calling it ‘missing him’ simply made it feel more...embarrassing. More open ended than it needed to be. While she couldn’t deny that she loved him, and he loved her, perhaps they were simply still figuring out their relationship.

She never noticed how much she missed him until he was gone like this.

The television echoed from the living room, filling the house with a thrum of white noise and blue against a darkened background. Keeping it on was the only thing that kept it from feeling lonely. From echoing nothing but silence against the darkness of the everything. It was oppressing, in a way. Alexys shuddered at it, but had no energy to turn any more lights on. Only the soft glow of yellow in their bedroom illuminated the area, while the rest of the house bathed in its darkness. She ran her fingers against the material of the suit again, thoughtfully this time. She observed every nook and cranny of it, tapping buttons with her nail and memorizing where each plate rested against her touch.

It was a strange texture. Almost like leather but not quite. An alien material, Ug had explained to her, common on his home planet but rare anywhere else. It was, more or less, why he was not afraid of fighting most anything. The armor was nearly impenetrable. Stabbing through it, shooting through it, or even biting through it proved more difficult than anything for most enemies. With their protection, bounty hunters could go at anything in hopes of capturing it. Of winning their prize money. Of being safe.

She looked around, biting the bottom of her lip as the longing to slip on the garment overwhelmed her. Never had she dared to do so in front of Ug, the embarrassment and anxiety of what he could react like far too strong in her stomach for her liking. So, instead, she pined for it. She longed to try it on. To drown in the same safety he radiated for her. Perhaps now...now was the time? He would not be home for a while. She was wearing only a tanktop and some shorts, perfectly capable of slipping such a large garment over her head and lazing about it in as comfortably as she could.

Another deep breath, exhaled out with an accepting sigh as she picked up the outfit.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The top slid easily over her torso, the weight of it nearly dropping her to the ground as she adjusted to its heaviness. A soft gasp echoed as she realized how strong he must have been, always, to carry around such a material on his back as if it weighed less than nothing. As if it were a second skin. When she slid the pants on, they were too big for her. Adjusting the straps took several moments, eventually securing them around her hips with an awkward shimmy and shake to her legs so that they would feel comfortable. It was surprisingly warm against her bare skin, the inside of the bounty hunter suit radiated a strange sense of safety not related to them being Ug’s. It was almost as if the suit itself were alive in a way, reaching out for her body heat and trapping it. Reminding her that, within it, she was safe and comfortable. She was welcome.

Alexys sat on the bed, looking down at the way the clothes hugged her body. Well, perhaps, hug was the wrong word. They consumed her body. She was drowning in the length of the sleeves, far too long for her shorter limbs. The pants ate her legs up, emphasizing the height difference between Ug and herself without him even being at her side. Leaning down, she gripped some of the material in her hands and nuzzled her face into it. The blush on her cheeks was warm and delighted when the scent of her alien boyfriend filed her nostrils, so unique and familiar that she felt as though he were there. As if he were embracing her.

“That’s my suit.”

Those three words made her freeze, skin going pale as she recognized the familiar voice as it spoke up its statement with no malice, only observation. Alexys looked up from her position on the bed, hugging into herself and the outfit against the frame of it, to spy Ug standing in the doorway. The sound of the television having drowned out his sound of arrival and he himself making no noise to announce it properly to her, he had caught her red handed when she was not ready for it.

“U-Ug!” Her voice was a soft pitch as he tilted his head, watching her in awe as she scrambled to sit upwards with a laugh, hand rubbing the back of her neck as she averted her gaze to the bedsheets with a soft stutter, “I was just...um...I didn't know you’d be back tonight! I thought…”

She faded into silence when he approached her. Reaching the space next to the bed, Ug reached out to touch her. A hand ran itself through her hair, touching at her cheeks. Alexys, out of instinct, nuzzled her cheek into his warm hand. It held her face perfectly, delicately, as if he were afraid of breaking it with just a single touch. There had been many times where the fear was genuine, never being able to gauge properly just how much strength humans could handle and how much she wanted him to use in their moments of cuddling and thoughtful moments together.

“I’m sorry.” Her words were soft, automatic as he watched her. His brows furrowed and head tilted, he tried to figure out what she had said those words for.

“For what?”

“Wearing it...without your permission.”

She gestured to the suit, face flushed with redness as she averted her gaze from him. Using his index finger and thumb, Ug took her chin between them and tilted it up so that she would be forced to look into his eyes. They met, gaze holding seriously as she bit at her lip worriedly. Would he scold her? Yell at her? Say she wasn’t supposed to do this? The fears and worried blossomed in her head like a volcanic plume of anxiety. Florettes of fear hissed at the edges of her chest cavity, tightening it with every passing second nothing was said between them.

It fizzled out the moment he put his lips on hers.

His kiss was slow, warm. A reassuring power was put behind it as he held her close. As he got on the bed with her and pulled her into his arms, holding her with all the delicacy that he could manage with his terrifying strength. It was enough to lift her up and place her on his lap as he deepened  the kiss, Alexys kissing back with surprise but delight at the feeling of being so close to her lover after so many days apart. Her hands wrapped around his back, pulling him close and keeping their chests together so that she could feel every inch of his body against hers. His existence brought comfort. Warmth. Reassurance even in the situation she had been caught in.

When he pulled away, she was breathless. His gaze studied her own, the ghost of a smile daring to fade against his normally emotionless expression. Alexys clung to him tighter as he ran his hand against her shoulder, feeling the divots of his armor where they fit against her. Slowly he tried to form the words, unsure of how they sounded or how they were supposed to come off as. He loved her in this, though, and wanted to express it.

Another kiss pressed itself against her forehead, delicate and caring as he always was with her.

“You...look cute.”

The words were soft, echoing from between only slightly parted lips as he dared himself to speak them out loud. A blush, so faint but still there on his cheeks, caught Alexys’ eyes and made her own widen on her form. She could not help the grin that began to form against her lips, infectious in its delight and hopeful realization that he found her in his clothes cute over annoying. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, taking a deep breath of him. He smelt foreign. An alien world clung to his form. Galaxies held onto him, but, none could beat her grip. She clung to him as if he were a dream as she always did when he returned home. He had learned not to pry her off or ask why she was like this. He had accepted that his human simply missed him, whatever missing in the human emotional spectrum entailed. He could not deny that he missed her too, though, as he wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her into a second hug, kisses on her head warming her body further.

“I look like I’m drowning in your suit, that’s what I look like.” Her laugh was melodious to his ears but awkward to her own. He saw things in her that, for some reason, she could never see. He wondered, again, if it was that human saying. Love is blind. Perhaps it was less that. More….love saw things in your partner that they did not. It was confusing. Humans were confusing.

“You look like you,” He returned with a soft hum, “As beautiful and radiant as ever...and, if you were to have the right size of gear, you could pull it off quite well.”

“Is this your way of saying that you’ll buy me some bounty hunter gear.”

“Why? You look far cuter in mine.”

Alexys laughed at the words, hugging him close again. He watched her, observing her body against his. His heart vibrated in his chest, loving and careful as he kept her with him.

He kissed her again as he held her, as if her lips would hold the answer that he craved. That he longed for against the taste of human skin and softness. He held her as though she were everything he needed in the galaxy.

Perhaps she was.

[seventeen-scenarios-blog]

[DRABBLE] Prince!Mingyu (G)

Request: When Mingyu comes home to see his significant other slow dancing with their eyes closed Requester: @brb2132 Genre: Fluff, royal AU Word Count: 1,622 Warnings: Cheesefest ahead, I hope you brought some chips to dip in.

A/N: If y’all can’t tell, my Mingyu swerve is still going on strong af and god do I LOVE seeing him in his prince outfit from Diamond Edge KDJLFSFGSG Hope you enjoy this!

wooed<3

And the left foot goes here, and… no no no, that can’t be right, my feet are all getting tangled up.

You slump in defeat against the velvet cushions of the couch. This simply isn’t working. You have been trying for the past couple hours or so, and you just can’t seem to get this damn thing right.

Hundreds of generations of heirs to the throne and I must be the first one that can’t get the most basics of ballroom dancing down, you think to yourself miserably, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft material. You were never much of a royal anyway. You loved playing outside and playing swords with your brothers, but when it comes to more ‘refined’ activities -- as your mother described them -- you are as good as owning two left hands and feet.

A glance on the ancient grandfather clock fixed on your left tells you that it’s nearing 2am in the morning. You wondered if Mingyu’s done with his work in his study. At the thought of your fiancé, a tremor courses through your spine. God, you always get so nervous around him, and it really doesn’t help that you’re going to present yourself as future spouses, future rulers, to his kingdom in about fifteen hours.

You love Mingyu, you really do. Your kingdoms being close allies for centuries, you’ve visited his castle a lot and you practically grew up together as a result. Your parents had you both betrothed as children, and neither of you particularly minded this arrangement for you both were already so close.

Even as a kid, Prince Mingyu was nothing short of polite, mannerly and just downright loving. You’d even call each other “honey” as kids, much to the endearment and delight of the adults. In your schooling years, you both had the same teachers, and after your classes you’d go out and play in the courtyard together, catching whatever critters that caught your fancy. When you both came of age, your engagement went off without a hitch, and you really can’t wait to spend the rest of your life by his side.

Until you realised that it entailed you having to dance with him in front of hundreds upon hundreds of your subjects. Your personal instructor had looked upon you stumbling like an elephant on rampage in utter horror a mere hour into your first lesson a week ago. Though she had managed to give you a weak thumbs-up for assurance at the end of the day, it was unmistakable that she thinks you’re a lost cause.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

A simple thousand year old tradition and you’re contemplating about throwing your birthright to one of your four younger sisters. Hell, even your twin brother Seungkwan would make a better fiancé than yourself. At least he could handle a few steps around the ballroom.

“Oh god, what am I even thinking…” you grumble, balling the silken material of your pajamas in your hands. “I gotta do this. I can’t let Mingyu down.”

Swallowing down the niggling self-doubt at the back of your mind, you mustered the will to get back up on your feet once more. You reached over to the speakers and upped the volume by two bars in an attempt to drown out the sound of blood rushing up your neck to your ears, but that doesn’t stop the way heat flood your cheeks regardless.

You lift your right hand, cupping the air that would have been your fiance’s shoulder, and extend your left arm to your side to “hold” your partner’s hand. You can already imagine Mingyu right there in front of you, looking down at you with those eyes, shining and full of affection.

Damn. You have to make this perfect for him.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you let yourself immerse in the music. It’s no hip-hop or folk rock you’re used to listening, but you have to make do. You try to recall the words from your dance instructor, and you extend your right feet tentatively to your front. Your left follows suit, and you step backwards with your right again. An outside spin, then a twirl, then a bow...

Alright, you’re getting there. Closing your eyes, you try again, letting the “music take over your body”, in the words of your dance instructor. You feel your eyebrows furrow as you concentrate on the rhythm and footwork. In fact, you’re so engrossed that you didn’t hear the foyer doors open and shut.

Your eyes fly open and a strangled scream of alarm gets caught in your throat when someone clasps their hand over yours.

“Shh… shh… It’s just me, baby. It’s okay…” You immediately relax into Mingyu’s sturdy embrace once you recognise his voice. Your husband-to-be chuckles at your reaction, reaching over behind you to flip the speakers off.

“Oh god, Mingyu, you scared me,” you lightly scold him, giving him a light smack on his shoulder. “I thought you’d be going to bed at this hour.” He’s traded his princely formalwear for a simple silk robe and pants, but he still looks like an ethereal god to you.

“I could say the same to you. I came back to the bedroom and you weren’t there, so I figured you’d still be here.” He smooths the small tangles in your hair with his fingers. “It’s late, shouldn’t you be resting up for tomorrow night?”

“I just thought I could use a little more practice for the ball tomorrow, that’s all.”

His eyes visibly softens as he notices the shaking in your voice. “Nervous?” he asks, the hand that was in your hair sliding down to cup your cheek.

“Very,” you reply immediately. “The last thing I want to be remembered for before ascending the throne is to have embarrassed myself in front of the kingdom because I don’t know where to put my legs. You know what, my first decree as ruler is to abolish this dumb tradition so that my future generations of two-left-feets don’t have to suffer like this. I mean, we even have to wear corsets! What is this? The 14th century?!”

You had to stop to take a breath between your rapid-fire commentary. Your honest answer has your fiancé snickering. “What was that you said about future generations of two-left-feets?” he wonders impishly, and you sigh at his little implications. “You know, if they grow up to be anything like their dad, they probably won’t be struggling.”

“Oh, save your childish jabs for the insecure,” you roll your eyes, poking him in the shoulder. Mingyu pouts, rubbing the sore area. “You know, the word ‘tradition’ is what the adults use when they don’t remember the purpose of something,” he points out.

“But too bad we still have to go through with them…” you dejectedly tell him, slowly writhing your way out of his embrace. “I just have to hope your parents don’t get second thoughts about our betrothal after tomorrow.”

“All because of a silly dance? Nah, I doubt it. They’ll still love you.” You stifle a yelp when Mingyu pulls you back into his arms again, and tightens his hold even more. “Like how I still love you, two left feet and all.”

You manage a weak huff of amusement at his cheesiness, but your spine stiffens with resolve once again. “Tradition or not, I’m not leaving this room until I get this right. You should go back and get some sleep, Mingyu. You’re going to need it.”

The crown prince frowns at your stubbornness, knowing that it’s impossible to stop you once you set your mind to it. He had a lot of episodes from his childhood to prove it. He knows that there’s only one way to coax you out of this situation. He loosens his grip on your waist, only to slide his larger hands into your own. You look up at him, clueless.

“Well, I guess a little extra practice for me won’t hurt either. But we’ll leave once the clock strikes two, then it’s off to the kitchens for a good midnight snack, alright?”

Your eyes flutter shut in pure bliss as Mingyu presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “Alright,” you relent, and you’re greeted with Mingyu’s two rows of delighted pearly whites. “Let’s both hope I don’t end up stepping on your toes like last time, huh?”

“No worries, I’m well-protected this time.”

You both burst into laughter as Mingyu proudly brandishes his furry bunny slippers at you, and the music turns back on, filling the room once more.

He slowly and gently waltzes you across the marble floors. Your eyes darts down to make sure your feet are following the patterns you’ve mapped in your brain, but he bends his head down at you, catching your attention.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says again. “Tomorrow, it’s going to be about you and me. It will be just like now, two of us, alone, enjoying our time together. We’re not going to let anyone take our fun away, not the tradition, nor the public’s opinion. Got it?”

Utterly mesmerized, you can only swallow whatever’s in your already-dry throat and nod. You’ve known this man all your life; how he still manages to make you swoon every time is a mystery.

“And besides, if the people ever dare to make fun of you, we can always sentence them to d--”

“No, Mingyu.” You bop him on the head before you can finish his sentence. Ah, there’s the dork you fell in love with. His subsequent grin is brighter than the full moon outside, and as the clock strikes 2, Mingyu sweeps you off your feet, and you feel ready as ever for tomorrow.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @kaneshirotakeshi!

I hope you find this satisfying! I enjoyed writing it, and it was a good challenge because I usually write darker fiction. Happy happy merry merry!

—-

Saturdays

Derek puts the earbuds in and starts the workout mix.

The sun is still behind the eastern mountains, and the trees are barely beginning to show against the dawn sky. Stiles will complain at him, again, that this is far too early for any sane being to arise, and that his werewolf powers probably make all this exercise useless, anyway.

Derek has only once tried to point out how Isaac and Jackson and Scott never bulked-up the same way Derek did. And though Derek doesn’t remember it, Stiles knows that teenage Derek wasn’t so muscular, though he very specifically doesn’t mention that during their ritual banter, and doesn’t tell Derek anything useful when Derek asks him why his heart skips a beat. The wolf smiles at these memories at the same time Stiles sighs contentedly in their large, comfortable bed.

Stiles and Derek have a routine now that serves as a sort of check-in with each other. Each Saturday, after all the business week stuff was done, they know their day just won’t be the same if they don’t have a playful argument about Derek’s too-early weekend wake-up times. Today, though, as with most Saturdays anymore, Stiles is sleeping well and was free from nightmares. In fact, it’s been weeks since the last one, and Stiles is counting each new day as a win against the harsh past. Derek decides they should celebrate, and alters the course of his run to detour through town.

Back at the house, in the comfort of a bed he’s just finishing sleeping so soundly in, Stiles is blissfully and warmly unbothered by negative thoughts. He curls himself tighter against the pillow. When Derek said he was going out ofr a run, Stiles had barely woken at all, and muttered something unintelligible, even to Dereks’ superior werewolf hearing. As Stiles absorbs the last of Derek’s heat from the pillows and covers, he starts himself awake at the subconscious realization that he’s alone in the blanketed expanse.

As he comes to a more full awareness, he notices the bed is empty. The whiteboard on the wall, hung next to the bedroom door in an intentionally eye-catching sport, has “Out for a run” printed neatly in Derek’s handwriting. “Ugh. Fine. Be that way.” Stiles slapps his arm across his eyes and groans, tucking the covers up to his neck for a few more minutes of restless snoozing. Not long after this, Stiles grumps wordlessly and manages to haul himself out from beneath the very comfortable world of the bed and into the crisp air of apartment.

For a moment, he hates everyone and everything.

And then he thinks about Derek.

As if on-cue, Derek walks to the front door and silences his music. He can hear Stiles inside, and he smiles, knowing they’re about to play-out the same old, silly argument, because they love each other so much.

“Stiles! I’m home!” He greets the air, since the other man is somewhere out of sight. Derek toes his shoes off, and set them on the rack by Stile’s sneakers. From off in the kitchen, Derek hears the pitter-patter of Stiles feet as he prepares something for them to eat. “I brought a surprise!”

Stiles was actually working himself up to reminisce about how Derek used to gruffly blurt just about everything he said. He was so earnest, and trying so hard to be the Alpha when he just wasn’t ready. It was years ago, and while he would have considered how much Derek had matured since the high school days, and would have smiled brightly at the growth and maturing of the now-stable Beacon Hills pack, he actually does something quite different.

At the hearing of the word “surprise”, Stiles squeaks (in a very manly manner, of course) and runs to the entrance. Derek holds his arms out, ready to catch the eager human, but Stiles is single-minded in his focus on the large pink box. Even his human senses pick-up on the supremely sweet scents of a variety pack of donuts from their favorite bakery. Naturally, instead of snagging the wolf up in his arms for a warm embrace, he snatches the box and runs back to the kitchen, giggling mischeviously and leaving Derek momentarily stunned.

Derek laughs, then admits, “fine, but I hoped you’d at least give me a hug this time before you stole the booty.”

“You stole the booty, Cap'n Hotpants!”

“How am I the captain?” And also, “hot pants?”

“Because you once said, "I’m the Alpha now”, and even if you were mocking Scott, you still kinda meant it about yourself, and ever since we watched that movie, I keep thinking about you, and about being alpha, and about ships and desperate pirates and I just can’t get your beefy buns out of my head.“

Without any retort to that, Derek leans against the doorframe and watches Stiles wide-eyed assessment of the caloric overload before him. Stiles prentends not to notice how the sweat on Derek’s shirt emphasises the already exemplary musculature of the werewolf. Derek catches-on immediately, but delays calling it out in favor of contiuing their banter for a moment longer.

"Well, I’m glad you appreciate the gift.”

“Oh, no, babe, you’re the gift. This is just you honoring me, the best boyfriend ever.” Stiles shoves the rest of the donut into his face. He crams it when he discovers his eyes were much bigger than the donut-holding volume of his mouth. Only after wiping with the hand towel at the sink did he turn to regard Derek more directly, and with more heat.

“What?” Derek pretends he isn’t preening inside when Stiles notices him, and looks at him like he is right now. Playing confused is always more fun, and usually gets him another compliment before they distract themselves.

“You are so hot. I mean, you’re just incredible. I know I give you crap about getting out of bed so early and running through the woods hunting whatever you’re pretending you’re not hunting–” he reaches for another donut.

Derek shakes his head. He’d never once told Stiles that sometimes he runs too well for a human, embracing and indulging the wolfish influence and chasing critters and prey on his run. Sometimes, when he’s sure a hiker isn’t around, he’ll go half-wolf and practice acrobatic maneouvers in the trees. He’ll jump and climb and drop-and-roll, all to keep himself limber and ready for anything he might need to do.

However, Stiles has never been on a run with him, so the wolf is confused how the man could know about that.

“–oh, come on, you don’t think I notice that you’re doing little hunts, or that your instincts don’t get you a little twitchy sometimes when a squirrel runs across the deck, or a deer is grazing along the shore? I notice, big boy.” Stiles stuffs more donut in his mouth, almost choking, and chases it with a hastily-poured cup of water. When he’s done, he attempts to stand confidently against the counter, but fails, and keeps half-heartedly putting on the act anyway.

Derek hadn’t considered that Stiles would notice those things. However, the wolf recognizes that he should have expected it, instead. One of the frustrating delights about Stiles is how insightful he was. It would be embarassing, but the source is always from the man who first believed in Derek, in friendship, in pack and protection and all the great things a strong pack needs. Stiles trained a pack of wolves to find their anchors better than Derek could. At least, back then. Now, new wolves arrived from nearby packs for training from the Human and Wolf Alpha pair, and it’s been strengthening the bonds between packs, reduce conflicts, and make them enough money that they can afford these trips to the lake.

Stiles considers for a moment if he should have chosen a different donut. The one with nuts was a little dry, but the maple with bacon bits is practically calling to him.

“I don’t understand your brain.” Derek steps forward and kisses his temple before the thinner man can steal another calorie ring. “But I’ll also never understand how you can burn butter and not even notice.”

Stiles yelps a manly yelp (in a very manly manner, of course) and turns to the stove, and the dark-brown devastation that was supposed to have been sizzling butter in the pan. Now that Derek had pointed it out, the stench of too-browned butter had filled the kitchen and has made the donuts temporarily less attrative. He flicks a look at Derek, feigning suspicion, but Derek pretends to only have eyes for the donuts.

Stiles huffs.

“Fine. You distract me from making breakfast and make me burn the food, then you gotta make it yourself or take me out somewhere nice.”

Derek bites into the donut so pointedly that even Peter could take notes on the sass of that bite. “And since when have we agreed to that particular rule?”

“Since now, when I just made it up, distractywolf.”

Derek tries to raise his eyebrow in surprise at the novel nickname, but just smiles instead, and sets the rest of the donut down on a small plate. Derek glances at Stiles fondly, then back to the box of donuts, and his expression mutates into a mischevous grin.

He abruptly turns to the shower and mumbles, “Whatever” to nobody in particular.

“I heard that!”

“Heard what?”

“What you just said! I heard that?”

Derek paused, and smiled, turning quite slowly, but remaining at this spot. “I’m sorry, what is it you think I said?” in a very good imitating of a moment Peter himself. Stiles wonders for a moment if Peter’s personality was a genetic trait and not just that of a madman.

“I don’t know the words you said, but I am very sure it was insulting.”

“Dearheart. My bunny blossom.” Stiles looks at him like he’s losing his mind. “Did you actually hear something, or did you just assume I said something?”

Stiles looks extra suspiciously at him. “I know you said something. I know you, Hale.” he gesticulates flippantly in Derek’s direction. “You’re smart and beautiful and you’re a really great person, and above all else, you’re a creature of habit.” Stiles steps up to Derek, and pokes his fingertips into the ticklish parts of Derek’s ribcage. “And I know that if you can’t get the last word in out loud, you’ll mutter it to yourself.”

Derek giggles, fails to escape the ticklish death grip, and steals a kiss from Stiles. He makes sure that kiss says everything from, “You’re an idiot,” to “You’re brilliant,” to “I love you.” Stiles squirms, trying to get away from the hot, sweaty torso and vise-like arms around himself.

“I love the kissing, and more of it is welcome, but – UGH! You’re so stinky!”

“I happen to know that even your limited human senses are telling you that my workout scent is sexy and makes me a hundred times more attractive.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t turned-on, but it’s definitely stinky.” Stiles glances toward the kitchen. “Did you stink-up our favorite bakery?”

Derek almost lets himself get distracted by defending his honor at their favorite eating spot, but alters tactics instead. “I’m about to take a shower, you know.” Wink wink, nudge nudge. Stiles squints at him seriously, then squints at him with great interest.

“Do you think you’ve got room in there for both of us? I mean, I practically just worked-out. I’ve got the sweat to prove it!”

“You’ve got my sweat and it doesn’t prove you worked-out, Stiles.” Derek admonishes without heat. “Also, I know you haven’t been doing your yoga.”

“Dude, you gotta get over being jealous of my amazing physique. You don’t need to tear me down, you know. You could just tell me you think it’s great.”

Derek slides up to Stiles again, wraps his arms around him, and lifts him by the buttocks so Stiles can curl his legs around Derek’s perfectly-proportioned torso. “You know you’re great. I could just tell you I love you.”

“So, say it.”

With a mirthful expression in his face and voice, Derek lets go of his grip on Stiles and bounces toward the shower. Stiles barely has time to notice that Derek’s called out, “Shower time!” before he’s feeling gravity bring him down to his butt. Derek can’t help himself. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!” he shouts, followed by delightful giggles.

Stiles huffs, then clambers upright and chases the wolf. “I’ll show you rotten egg! You still didn’t tell me you love me!”

Derek laughs louder, and Stiles grins at hearing the open delight of the often troubled elder man. Stiles often considers that if he can make the wolf laugh once every day, it would help Derek heal from so much of the suffering he’d felt. The weight of it was with them both, but as their love has grown, they’ve discovered they’re chased less by their own thoughts and feelings about that past than they once had been.

“I love you!” declares Stiles, as he bounds his way through the doorway, across the floor, and leaps into the shower, managing to surprise them both with how he didn’t destory the door, the towel rack, the freezer door, Derek, or himself on the way in while pulling that little stunt. “There: I’ve said it first and best and you’re the rotten egg.”

Derek rolls his eyes and pulls his shirt off, taking just a little longer than necessary. “Are you sure you are the best? I mean, I did make a donut run.”

Stiles pretends to consider this, and grins. “Oh, well, that does count for something.”

“By the rules you just made up?”

“Most definitely,” and Stiles stepped into the shower. “And by the rules you’ve just made up, you’re still the rotten egg.”

Derek looks at the fully-clothed man in the shower as fondly as he ever does, and he admits, “I guess I am.”

He steps in with Stiles, the naked wolf and the still-clothed human, and he reaches toward Stiles in what looks to be a loving embrace. Stiles discovers it’s anything but that when Derek turns the water on and holds them both under it’s frigid spray until it warms. They both squeal, and Stiles’ efforts at disloding himself from the his lover wolf’s arms gets worse as the running water makes everything more slick.

When the heated water finally coats them both, Stiles sighs into Derek’s chest. “I love you, too, sourwolf.”

Derek nuzzled Stiles. “Sometimes I just want to say it with my hands or arms, or with a kiss to your–” and he puts his lips to Stiles, touching a tender point on his neck, “right here.”

“A kiss to my ‘right here’?” Stiles smiles. It’s an appreciative smile, full of fondness and love.

“And your over here,” as Derek quietly kisses his earlobe, then the spot on his neck again. He trails a few kisses along the leaner man’s shoulder, making an indelicate smack of the final kiss.

“That felt very nice until that last moment,” Stiles says. He is about to say something else when Derek’s hand twists the showerhead to point directly at Stiles, smothering his face.

Derek steps back and laughs. “Sorry, not sorry,” he says without any regard for the sputtering coming from Stiles.

“Your pranks will get you in trouble someday, trickster wolfboy.” Stiles pretends to complain, but he’s already plotting his counter-attack.

“I suppose they might,” Derek says, before pulling Stiles in for another embrace.

[valerie-royeaux]

Blood & Dust - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Maker-Given

Word count: 4,280 Read it on AO3, or continue below

Previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

“You look impressive, ser Cousland!”

Junia chuckled as she looked at John coming out from behind some bushes. He looked positively more composed than the night before, when he was barely more than a ragdoll enveloped in rope. The spoils from the bandits in the chantry had allowed Junia - with a healthy dose of bartering in the local language - to buy most of the things John needed. While they did not compare to the equipment that now gathered moss deep beneath the Minanther river, it was enough for his survival: a sword complete with belt and scabbard, a round wooden shield with a steel boss in the centre, and a slightly rusty oversized chainmail. She even managed to include a dark brown travel cloak in the bargain! His pants and boots were the same ones that came out of the water with him.

And just like his situation, the bond between them had improved significantly overnight. Junia’s chuckles were growing into full hearted laughter as John moved in circles around himself letting his cloak flow free. “You still have to buy me some hands, Junia”, he shouted, letting the hems of his chainmail jiggle from the edge his hands, completely covering them. “This will be the new fashion in the Orlesian tournaments. Sleeves too long over hands with no gloves. You have never seen knight more comely, m’lady!” Junia only kept laughing, openly, her low pitched tone enchanting John with each giggle.

They walked the idle pace of heavily loaded donkeys. Junia’s plan had already been to follow to Kirkwall this morning with her band of dusters by accompanying a merchant caravan that travels regularly from Starkhaven to Kirkwall. While her company had changed, it was still the safer way to traverse the Free Marches countryside, without drawing any attention. Numerous mercenary bands guarded the travelers, and they enjoyed the protection of even warring lords. One of the very reasons commerce flourished so strongly in the Free Marches. No one messed with the caravans.

It didn’t take them the morning to bond, and by noon time John did not feel like a hostage, neither did Junia felt compelled to keep an eye on her expensive prize. Their throats actually ached from all the talking, and they had already refilled their water skins twice. By dinner time the caravan had stopped in the grounds of an enormous monastery, protected by bailey walls and the growing towers of a Cathedral. The magnificent building was almost ready, and those were the last of over sixty years of construction. But instead of finding rest in the grandeur of the cathedral’s halls, even though John’s theological views had enchanted Junia most of the morning, he asked them to eat at the fully enclosed monastery's hall.

“You can’t be serious, John. Bugs, really?”

“I hate them all, I’m telling you! If we eat outside, we’ll attract bees, and they will stick to our food, and they will sting us! And those other weird bugs. And don’t even get me started on the wasps they have up here in the north.”

Junia could not believe that was the reason they were not in a calmer or sainter place, but enjoying the not so private end of a crowded trestle table. The Fereldan language was what shielded them from most of the prying ears. “So, you regularly clad yourself in armor and risk your life in battles, but you are afraid of bees?”

“And wasps. And big beetles. And spiders. But not ladybirds and butterflies, though.” He made a pause to bring food to his mouth, but decided to continue in the face of Junia’s raised brow. “I mean, it’s not fear per se. It’s more a… safety notion that, should the veil fail, these critters will eat me. Have you ever seen a giant horse? No. And if there were? We would ride them, and love them. But giant spiders? Maker, I’d take on dragonlings every time!”

Junia simply raised an amused eyebrow: “So you wouldn’t fear a giant butterfly?”

“But of course not!” John laughed heartily and, even among marchers, he was gesturing wider and talking louder than anyone else on the table. “Which demon who respects itself would possess a butterfly? Behold, I’m the demon-flying-flowers!” They both kept laughing before John added: “But that applies only to butterflies, though. Moths are evil creatures who will blind you.”

The situation in Ferelden had been put to a comfortable bed on the back on John’s mind. Eventually he would worry about the time they were taking on their journey, he would think about the issues his sister would be facing back in Denerim, or Highever, or wherever. Wherever, he thought. The place where it always wheres. Like in Highever it always highs. This is how the easy state of mind of a high nobility second son would bring him out of worrying and back into enjoying the company of this beautiful woman - yes, beautiful, he would say to Fergus in his own mind.

At least Gwen wouldn’t judge him. She somehow corroborated him on these matters. She was able to feel the inner workings of John’s likings and never judge them, despite not quite agreeing with them. She knew how much he enjoyed the color match of chestnut hair and eyes, how he anticipated Junia’s large breasts to sag to the top of her belly when free of clothing; how he could not avert his gaze from lips and eyes that were too large to the dwarf’s roundish face, and therefore perfectly cute. How soft and firm she should feel to hold; short and broad, more than he could grasp; which marks her belly and hips would show; which would be the smell in her bushes after stripping to sleep at night. He could not wait to tell all about Junia to Gwen, and that is how his hyperactive mind would snap him back to his sister’s woes. And back again at how much he wanted her to meet this special pretty andrastian dwarf. Yes, Gwennie, pretty dwarf, and pretty andrastian. And pretty. And he needed more things to tell his twin sister: not only of Junia, but about Junia.

“But enough bugs, because I don’t want you to think you will have to save me when those weird flying ants they have in here come barging. I talked, and talked, and talked since last night, but all I know about you so far is that you are a mercenary, and that you come from Waking Sea, and that the Maker protects you from pretty much everything. Come on, Junia, I have only until Highever to get to know you, and I don’t think this will be time enough for me!”

Junia could not think these were empty flirting lines from a bored knight. First of all, because she had read all the classical authors - and that is not how knights would go about courting a lady. Not that she was a lady, of course. But that is not how men of war would go about wooing cheap women into their beds either. John’s sincerity was new and assailing, and Junia could not realize how vulnerable she was to it. John had been shielded enough from life to be able to ride under all of the dwarf’s shields, and straight into childish giggles and serene smiles. There were no defenses she could raise to a man who employed no attack. Which is a lie. He already longed for her. But his wanting seeped, rather than being directed. And it immersed them both.

“Alright, John”, she said, letting out a long sigh. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

She smiled a kind smile, and realized she never really talked about her life to anyone. Not in a organized chronology, not like she wished she could, not like she one day hoped chroniclers would want. She would sit and laugh with companions, share drinks and stories with friends. But this was not about the laughter it would bring to a booze-bright table of bandits. This about making herself known to this weird man. The ultimate goal was not to amuse, to scare, to make a point. The ultimate goal was herself. And she delighted on it.

“Well, very well. I guess we can start in Waking Sea. That is where I’m from.”

“I know, and that is so close to Highever!”

“I know, I know. But I didn’t stay there for long. You see, I was born to a very wealthy family. They were heavy supporters of the Surface Caste. They even kept the casteless brand”, Junia touched the mark on her right cheek briefly, “as a mark of surfacer pride. And this is pretty much it for my childhood. I know I had to wear dresses, and learn manners, and sew and do my hair, and all this shit rich girls are supposed to do. This goes on until I am about eight, or nine, or something around that time. That is when they tried to give the jester a shitting pot.”

This time Junia was not interrupted. John watched, listened and chewed attentively, his eyes widened and focused on hers. Eventually darting down to her moving full lips, that is true, but mostly they were on her eyes. “I don’t know the details. But my family did not belong to the Merchant Guild, and they crossed the Merchant Guild. The Guild killed my parents, and looted the house. I was part of the loot.”

John’s expression fell to absolute sorrow, but found no resonance in Junia’s. He noted how used to death she was - and how that diminished him. Embarrassed him of himself, even. This woman mentioned her parents death as if it was nothing, as if it had no sting on her. And Junia could not even notice how heartfelt John was with her family’s murder. It would only sting one not used to murdering. John remembered how easily she dispatched the sleeping men who held him captive. And it made more sense now. For a moment, their situation and how they came to be there briefly flashed in his mind. But just like he was baffled at the ruthlessness of the dwarf, she was entranced by the innocence with which John carried himself to that moment. So she just continued, and John, silent, soaked it all in.

“They were really good to me, actually. You see, better not to damage the merchandise. They shipped me across the sea to Kirkwall. I had not idea what was going on, but here’s the Maker guarding me again: they happened to sell me to the one brothel owner who would not employ children, John. I remember chatting with signora Benedetta later on, and she told me she would never employ anyone young enough to die and go straight to the Maker’s side. A pious woman, she was. And she was thinking that of a dwarf. Instead, she sent me to a convent. She payed to have me, and released me for free.”

Junia almost continued saying how she spends a lot of money in Benedetta’s brothel every time she is in Kirkwall. But for the first time in a very long time, she felt ashamed. She hesitated and made a pause, reeling from that awful sensation of shame before that man, probably a few years younger than her, who would not think so well of her if he knew she visited brothels. It wasn’t enough that she hid from him she was a bandit, rather saying she was a mercenary. Now, she was also hiding she was a regular at brothels, and she was hiding Benedetta’s brothel, of all of them. This is not how she would want to him to know her, Junia realized. She knew the Maker was with her, and that He had given her that. She earned every woman she spent her money on. Sister Lucia, who would very often disagree with her on most things, was very adamant in affirming the Maker did not judge love, given for free or purchased with coin and taken with kindness. This was one of the very few things Junia did not use to ask forgiveness for. But now, and suddenly, she wanted John’s good opinion too. She was sure he would never understand a woman who visits brothels, let alone keeps the company of other women. Thus her nights with Benedetta’s women never left the lips that pleased the human so much. She continued to the very Sister Lucia who would scold her for hiding it.

“I went to a convent, a big one, not unlike this monastery where we are.” A peaceful smile seeped through Junia’s face, and sweet nostalgia toned her voice. “I believe I was a decade old by the time I arrived there. They had me doing base chores - stuff not even the sisters following stricter versions of the Rule would do. The mothers and sisters there wasted no time letting me know I was a dwarf, and therefore I would not be educated like the other orphans. There were some in the cloisters. They would grow to be sisters and brothers. The ones with wealthy patrons would either become Mothers or Templars. But me? I was to be their servant, and that is it. I was so… numbed, around that time, John, that I can barely remember a thing. I didn’t even speak the language of Kirkwall. Or Chiesaforte, in their language. All I know if is that I hated being poor and destitute. With passion.”

“Hearing you say it, it seems to me you speak it as well as a native, Junia,” John remarked, not used to hearing about poverty, and not knowing how to deal with it. He felt is was wrong, but could not think of what to say, therefore the remark about language. As if it was the first time he, a high noble, was made aware of the existence of poverty and tragedy. Junia simply shrugged, still immersed in the sweet memories she was about to tell. She was not ashamed of these ones. Well, not completely.

“There was this one sister. Suora Lucia. Sister Lucia. Her name means light, and that is exactly what she was to me. It took me a while until I could understand her. But she had some… privileges, as always. Wealthy patrons. Well, in her case, more than that. Anyway, you will see the Maker reaching out to protect me again, John. The good shepherd knows its sheep, and calls them by name. Sister Lucia made sure I would serve only her. She was the head of the scriptorium, where the sisters copy manuscripts. So I would make sure the supplies were tidy, the room was clean, and the sisters writing had what they needed. I also helped her keep track of sisters who were slacking in their copying!” Junia giggled through her pause, and noticed how firm was her grisp in John’s attention. He was done eating his bread, and his wine sat still, cup half full.

“Sister Lucia ensured my service was light enough. And she would take some hours of her time, every night, in between the end of her chores and the nightly prayers, to teach me the language. It was when I was already speaking some of it that she told me she wanted to make sure I learned the Chant. That she wanted me to know that the Maker was the creator of everyone. Everyone, John. Even me. Andraste cared even for one as myself.”

Junia made no pause, but John could see how elated she was to speak those words. She savoured them, sound by sound. Drops of balm onto her soul. He already loved this Sister Lucia, and was actually hoping they could see her when they went through Kirkwall. That somewhere down her story, Junia would say that Sister Lucia spoke Fereldan. Regardless, he was charmed by the delight in the dwarf’s soul, translating clearly through the features he already loved to admire. He nodded rhythmically, at the slow beat of Junia’s speech, absolutely sure that Andraste herself validated every word. A sensation Junia shared.

“I also did not take long to meet Sister Lucia’s wealthy patron. A noblewoman named Mara. Even though, in theory, Sister Lucia lived in the cloister, signora Mara would visit her at least twice a week. They were both somehow old at that time. I think they were forty-five, maybe fifty? I digress. One of my main chores, and that only because I was not considered ‘cloistered’, was to travel Kirkwall back and forth with notes from Lady Mara to Sister Lucia, from Sister Lucia to Lady Mara. And Lady Mara loved me! She cherished to see me being raised into a good Andrastian, and after a while she started helping Sister Lucia with my lessons. I loved those days so much, John. So much.”

Again, she did not tell it all. She didn’t need to. She told the important part about Sister Lucia and Lady Mara, and how kindly they kindled all good that Junia ever learned how to feel. She did not disclose the whole truth about them, but enough to share with the man she was growing ever close to. She was ready to move on to darker stances of her past, when John interrupted her.

“How nice, they were lovers!”

And he hadn’t only interrupted - he did it with a clear affirmation of love between two women, a full smile under his beard, and admiration in his eyes. Junia coughed the last sip of her wine, and stared at the human widely. “N-No…” She knew that nobles would more often than not allow themselves some… experimenting. Debauchery, was the word in Orlais. But something in the way he said it did not denote it. He was not talking about nobility excesses. And he clarified it in his next words.

“No need to hide it, Junia, it is fine. I don’t think it is bad, not all. Actually, I cherish it.” Upon Junia’s puzzled expression, he continued. “I was not supposed to tell you that, but what the hell, I want to tell you everything.” He took his moment for some laughter before he continued. “My twin sister is like this. Gwennie, the one who I told you about. She likes women the same way a man would - the same way I do. She actually loved this girl, Lucille. For a long time. To be honest with you, I think she was going to find a way for them to marry. Our father found out, we suspect, and out of the blue, the girl was married to a man.” John’s excitement vanished suddenly - but Junia’s was there, fiercely rekindled, as well as one of Thedas largest smiles, which did not match John’s next words. “Lucille killed herself not long after. Gwennie never truly recovered.”

It took John a while to see Junia’s beaming smile, and he replied with a weak and understanding one when he noticed it. “I take it you are just like her?” Junia mistook the disappointment in John’s voice by the drop in his mood due to talking about Lucille’s suicide.

“I am.” Junia answered, and John nodded, simply, in silence. But his gaze perked up when he heard Junia say “Well… Kind of.” And that perked gaze prompted her to go on with an explanation. “I have been attracted to men on certain occasions.” She paused. John waited for her to continue. And continue she did, after realizing that this was again the Maker’s hand steering His love towards her. She could not have, randomly, out of chance, saved a kindred soul in so many aspects, to the point of understanding the love between two women. Between the most important women in her life. So she would talk to this man about being with other people. She would openly discuss sex with a man who she really wanted to think highly of her, who she didn’t want to think her indecent. It took Junia another breath and an extra dose of heavenly encouragement.

“Men don’t know what to do with what the Maker has given them, John. They have mouths, and hands, and noses, and… They don’t even use, no, not really, what is between their legs. They just… Go in, and that’s it, sod over, it’s done. I have been attracted to some men when I was younger, and every time I tried them, I barely had time to regret it.” Junia closed her eyes shut, and faced away from John. She regretted talking about all the times she had been with men, like a slut, and that is not even mentioning that she implicitly made clear she had been with women many times over.

“I know, right? Gwennie told me all about it”.

Junia’s eyes snapped wide open at John again. “She what? You and your sister talk about it?!”

“We talk about everything, Junia. She knows how I think, because we are twins, I suppose.” It was John’s turn to feel ashamed and not be totally frank with the dwarf. “She has never… Came to full terms with a man, but she had her run-ins with them. And she hated these few times bitterly. After she started knowing more of women, she told me how women do it. How they take their time, and use all their Maker-given parts.”

He laughed out loud, and so did Junia. She was baffled and incredulous, actually slightly shaking her head at how the Maker reaffirmed time and again all she believed in. Specially the one point where she and Sister Lucia agreed. And she found really cute that John finally blushed. “I learned to use my Maker given parts myself. And this did not involve my sister!”

More laughter followed. Free, loud, tension-releasing laughter. To the point they both remembered their cups and toasted vividly.

“To Maker-given parts!”

Junia kept telling John about her past, and John probed more on the relationship between Lady Mara and Sister Lucia, as well as Junia’s own relationships. She was pleased to tell him how their families discovered their affair, and one was sent to the Chantry, and the other forcibly married right away. But she still would avoid telling about herself . Throughout most of her life, all her encounters had been casual, and mostly paid for, and that ashamed her. Instead, she probed him back for stories about himself, and Gwen as well.

And she did not tell him how, after staying in Kirkwall’s monastery for three years, she wanted to become affirmed. And how she was denied, despite Lucia and Mara’s influence. Apparently, Grand Cleric Elthina learned of Junia’s intention to become a sister, and denied it herself. And how, slowly, she started working with the Carta. First with small deliveries, then at small hits, and surely, to be one of the organization’s most effective agents around the Waking Sea’s shores. To John, as far as Junia could control it, she was a mercenary.

And John was happy to let Junia know how he had always been attracted to dwarven women, even though they were few and isolated. Dwarves were too insular, and even as a noble, he never got close enough to a dwarven woman like he was now close to Junia. And he made sure she knew how much he was loving it. He was also happy to share some of Gwen’s love stories, and the fact that they were indeed more numerous than his.

Slowly, the hall of the monastery started to empty, and they realized it was about time for the caravan to move. The stood to go to the caravan’s gathering place, and Junia welcomed the distraction. Her heart was pounding fast. She could not say she was having feelings for this male human, but she could feel roots fighting to take hold. She knew he was feeling it all, too, he made it really clear, while at the same time being incredibly respectful. He was giving Junia her space to decide whether she would be willing to pursue something with him.

Junia was pondering whether or not to give it a try - to go back on her decision of not wasting time on men. Clearly, she had never tried one such as John. At least, he seemed to be aware of how not to be a bossing jerk. She paused and looked down, reprimanding herself for thinking that. He was obviously well intentioned. And she had not met a well intentioned lover ever since she left Kirwall to do the Carta’s dirty work. Junia cherished the only pair of  well intentioned lovers she had ever met. And she was sure Lady Mara and Sister Lucia would love to know John. While he longed to introduce her to Gwen, she longed for her moms to know him.

When she raised her gaze decided to do something, she noticed the hall was too empty. People had simply vanished, and all doors were closed. John kept talking about something in Highever, oblivious to the change in the room.

“Shhhh!” she said, and started to gather their things in a lot of haste. John was puzzled at that, but in a second started to help her, despite not understanding what was going on.

“Be ready, John. Let’s get our things and run. Something is not right.”

Junia knew that monastery, and led them running through a door which into the cloister. At the same time, armed men poured into the hall from the opposite end.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

Space Laser Puppy

For Anonymous.

“You brought home a puppy...?” Coran asked.

“Puppy” wasn't exactly the term Coran he use to describe the extra-terrestrial being Pidge had successfully convinced the others to let on board. He would have much preferred “slavering hell beast from the abyss,” but it seemed everyone else was referring to it as a “puppy” so that's what he was going to have to call it.

“Yes, yes we did, and her name is Zwei,” Allura replied.

Coran's eyes widened. “Quiznak! It's a female?!”

“Relax, Coran; to Pidge's best knowledge, they are only able to reproduce sexually. We can even figure out how to neuter her, if it'll help allay your fears.”

Coran huffed. “That is not my most immediate concern, though the idea of more of these 'dogs' running around the ship, and a mother with territorial and protective instincts over her pups is certainly terrifying!

“How big is this creature going to get? Where are we going to keep it? What are we going to feed it?”

His eyes widened. “Oh no, who's going to clean it up when it--”

Allura held her hand up, Coran stopped. “No larger than six feet and 300 pounds, at the most; Hunk and Pidge have already created a suitable habitat for it in the latter's room; they have also discovered it can eat and survive on most anything; and Pidge has already created drones to do that, until she is properly trained.

“Honestly, Coran, just because the decision was made on impulse doesn't mean we didn't slow down long enough to work out all the details—Pidge did an excellent job at that, I assure you.”

Coran frowned. “So was it her idea to bring this… puppy with us, then? Give you a gigantic, lifetime responsibility for a present? I swear, some of these romantic customs humans are so fond of baffle me!”

“No, and it was actually my idea.” Allura blushed, and looked away. “… I told Pidge I would very much love to have her, and promised her certain… benefits… if she would help me convince the others to bring her aboard.”

Coran stared at her. “Your majesty, please pardon my questioning of your decisions, but what do you even see in that… puppy?!”

“Haven't you seen her?!” Allura squealed as she balled her fists in front of her chest. “She's so adorable!”

Coran remembered the slavering hell beast from the abyss that had stepped out of the Green Lion alongside Pidge, and found that he really couldn't call her “cute” by any stretch of the word.

“Want to go visit her? I think it will do you well to see just how harmless she is.”

Coran sighed. “Oh, alright. Where is… she right now, anyway?”

“In the training room, being walked,” Allura replied. “You're worrying over nothing, Coran: how dangerous can a juvenile be?”

Pew! Pew! Pew!

The Alteans stood in the observation deck of the training room, watching in a mix of amusement (Allura) and abject horror (Coran) as Zwei blasted holes in the gladiator bots who were desperately trying to get close enough to attack her.

The two-headed quadruped gleefully pranced away from them, four tongues lolling out of her glowing mouths as she zoomed past half the training room in a few seconds. She spun around, skidding on the floor for a moment, before she shut her mouths, blue energy glowing from the gaps between her teeth.

She turned her heads to the gladiator bots, and opened them.

Pew! Pew! Pew!

A new round of lasers shot out of her mouth, nailing the bots with lethal accuracy despite the distance, heads exploding, or androids looking in surprise at the brand new holes in their chests, before they dropped dead.

Well to the side of the carnage and hidden behind a barrier, with spare parts and salvaged tech strewn all around them, Hunk and Pidge cheered.

“Woo!” Hunk cried. “Go Zwei!”

“Good girl!” Pidge shouted.

Zwei turned her heads to them, panting happily. Then, she reared her back and howled with delight, twin beams shooting out of her mouth and searing the ceiling.

“Woah!” Hunk cried as he fell back.

“Bad girl! Bad girl! Stop!” Pidge cried as she ran out of the field and to Zwei.

Zwei stopped firing, then looked at Pidge in a mixture of curiosity and worry; Coran supposed having two separate faces for each expression helped.

Pidge held out her hand. “Sit!”

Zwei sat.

“Eyes on me,” Pidge said, pointing two fingers at her, before pointing one back at herself.

Zwei looked at her.

Hunk sent a new gladiator bot out.

“See that bot?” Pidge asked, pointing at it.

Zwei's heads nodded.

“Shoot it.”

Pew!

The bot's head exploded, and its body fell down soon after.

“Good girl!” Pidge said, pulling a solidified cube of green goop out of her pocket and tossing it to Zwei.

One of her tongues snatched it out of the air, and threw it into her waiting mouth.

“See the ceiling?” Pidge pointed upwards, at the new burns in the training room.

Zwei turned her heads up.

“Don't shoot.”

Zwei kept her mouths closed.

“Good girl!” Pidge gave her another treat, and patted her on of her heads, too.

Zwei panted happily, energy still radiating from her lips.

Coran was finally able to wrench his eyes from the scene below him, and to Allura. “Why did no one tell me she could shoot lasers…?”

Allura shrugged. “This is just as new to me as it is to you!”

Coran frantically put one of the observation deck's headsets on. “PALADINS!” he yelled. “WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME YOUR NEW DOG COULD SHOOT LASERS!?”

Hunk, Pidge, and Zwei winced, their helmets taking a second too long to lower Coran's voice.

“We didn't know until she was on-board, either!” Pidge replied.

Allura put on her own headset. “How did this happen?” she asked.

“We were trying to build new toys for Zwei here out of some spare parts!” Hunk explained. “We made her a robot-version of one of those critters that were running around her planet for her to chase, but it turns out it's part of her species' natural diet, so she ate it after she caught it.

“Like, in just two bites, including the battery.”

“I guess there's something in her species' digestive system and genetic make-up that allows them to adapt helpful traits from whatever they eat,” Pidge added. “It explains why the armoured parts of her looked so much like the rocks on her planet, at least!”

“Well what else happens if she eats more tech?!” Coran yelled.

“We don't know!” Pidge said. “We're actually about to start experimenting to find out.”

“Oh, wait for me!” Allura said before before she took off her headset.

Coran reached out and stopped her. “Your majesty! I beg you, please, reconsider! It's dangerous down there with… Zwei in it!”

The two stopped as they noticed movement coming from the piles of scrap and spare tech near Hunk. Allura's mice triumphantly broke through the surface with a new gadget, a broken down a shockwave mining tool—or as it more commonly called, a “Dirt Blaster.”

Allura turned back to Coran and smiled. “The mice seem to think it's safe enough for them to be there, what does that say about me?”

Coran sighed. “Please suit up, your majesty, if for nothing else than my sanity...”

Allura patted him on the shoulder. “I will, Coran, I will.”

As she went to do that, Pidge and Hunk fed Zwei the dirt blaster and quickly got back behind the barrier. They waited a minute for her digestive system to do its work, the glow in her mouths quickly disappearing.

“Do you feel any different, girl?” Pidge asked.

“WOOF!”

She and Hunk staggered back as a cone of sound blasted the barrier, the plates shimmering as it struggled to absorb and disperse the energy.

“Well...” Pidge said as she slowly stepped forward, “I guess that answers that question. Wonder how powerful it is?”

Hunk dug out a non-functioning camera drone, basically a round metal ball without a scope. “Let's find out!” he said, tossing it up and down in his hand.

Zwei began to pant in excitement.

Pidge turned her around to her side, Hunk threw the ball in front of her.

“Bark, girl!”

“WOOF!”

The ball rocketed off, before it quickly lost momentum and bounced harmlessly on the floor.

Pidge hummed as she made notes. “Incredibly powerful sonic blasts, but force disperses widely and quickly, making it ineffective at long range. Hunk, could you get that ball back?”

“Already on it!” Hunk said as he ran off to fetch the ball. He came back, threw it back to Pidge when he close enough.

Zwei intercepted it. “WOOF!”

The ball came rocketing back to Hunk.

Hunk yelped and raised up his shield.

The ball ricocheted off the barrier, and back to Zwei.

Pidge watched with interest as she intercepted it again, angling her heads towards Hunk.

“WOOF!”

Now that he knew it was coming, Hunk angled his shield to send the ball ricocheting to Zwei. “Heh! It's like we're playing catch!” he said after it bounced off. “Sonic-Bark Catch!”

“WOOF!”

Hunk smiled and angled his shield away from Zwei, to give her some challenge this time.

At the same time, Allura entered the training room.

Zwei turned her heads to her, and began to pant in excitement. As the forgotten ball bounced and rolled on the floor, she ran towards Allura, tongues hanging out of her mouth, her expression excited as could be.

Allura smiled at her as she held out her arms in greeting. “Hello again, Zwei~!”

Pidge's eyes widened. “Wait, Allura, Zwei--!”

Too late.

Zwei barked.

“WOOF!”

Allura's smile disappeared.

Thoom.

Allura braced herself just before went flying, skidding across the floor for several seconds until she finally came to a stop.

“Your highness!” “Princess!” “Allura!”

Zwei yelped and sat down mid-stride, paws skidding on the ground until she stopped. She whimpered and looked at Allura in worry as Pidge and Hunk rushed over to help her back up.

“I'm fine! I'm fine!” Allura said as she got back up by herself. “This armour was made to withstand much worse things!”

“You sure you're alright?” Hunk asked as he and Pidge came to her.

“Definitely!” Allura replied. She looked at Zwei, frowning with her heads drooping. “If anyone needs comforting and care, it's Zwei...”

She smiled as she began to slowly walk to her.

Zwei whined and began to step back.

“It's okay!” she called out. “I'm fine and I'm not mad, Zwei! I know you didn't mean to hurt me.”

Zwei stopped, tilted her heads to the side in confusion.

The mice scampered over to Pidge, dug into her pockets and delivered several treat cubes to Allura. She thanked them, then held them out for Zwei.

“Here: as proof that I'm not mad.”

Zwei carefully padded over, her six pairs of eyes looking up at her for permission.

“Go on!” Allura chirped. “Take them.”

Zwei began to slowly, carefully pick up the cubes, opening her jaws out only as much as her it would take for tongues to slither out and pick up the cubes.

“I know it was just an accident, Zwei,” Allura hummed as she petted one of her heads with her free hand. “You're still a puppy with plenty to learn, mistakes are going to happen.”

Zwei swallowed the last cube, and started panting happily.

“Feeling better now?” Allura asked.

Zwei was about to bark.

Allura braced herself.

Then, Zwei shut her mouths, and began to nod.

All of them relaxed.

Allura let out a sigh of relief. “She learns fast!” she said as Pidge and Hunk came over.

Hunk laughed. “Yeah, she does! Probably gets it from her Dad-Mom Pidge over here,” he said, thumbing to her.

Pidge scowled. “She's my pet, not my kid, Hunk, knock it off! And why am I the dad-mom?”

Allura chuckled. “Well we are taking care of her now, aren't we? And really, Pidge, it's quite obvious that you're the more paternal figure between us two.”

“Building all sorts of cool tech for her with her uncle, teaching her how to shoot friggin' laser beams out of her mouth, religiously recording everything she does—yep, totally the dad-mom in this pair,” Hunk said, nodding.

Pidge sighed, and smiled. “Fine… so, Allura, want to play catch with our 'daughter?'”

Allura chuckled. “I'd love to~”

From the observation deck, Coran watched the trio began to play catch with Zwei, laughing and smiling as she and Allura ran across the training room, seeing who could knock the ball the farthest away and still send it back to the other.

He sighed as he pulled off his headset, and left the observation. He supposed the newest member of the Team Voltron did make Allura happy, and Pidge was more than capable of training her so she wouldn't end up accidentally destroying vast swathes of the ship.

He still wasn't going to clean up after her if she made a mess, though.

[reilovely-blog]

The One That Starts With A ‘C’

"“Zayn, Zayn, please come home, I need you to come home.”

“Why, what’s up, Lou?”

“The- OH MY GOD! It’s coming for me- Nononono go away you spawn of the devil! No- HELP!”

“Lou?? LOU, what’s happening?! Babes, answer me!” Zayn rushed out, clutching his phone tightly as he hears little panicked whines and screams from the other side.

“Z, Z, please, please just come home, it’s just watching me with its beady little eyes, help!”

“What’s wrong?” He sighed, taking a deep breath and pressing a hand to his chest to calm his heart. He should have known better by now, he mused, that Louis screaming bloody murder did not equate to Louis getting murdered."

~

“Zayn, Zayn, please come home, I need you to come home.”

“Why, what’s up, Lou?”

“The- OH MY GOD! It’s coming for me- Nononono go away you spawn of the devil! No- HELP!”

“Lou?? LOU, what’s happening?! Babes, answer me!” Zayn rushed out, clutching his phone tightly as he hears little panicked whines and screams from the other side.

“Z, Z, please, please just come home, it’s just watching me with its beady little eyes, help!”

“What’s wrong?” He sighed, taking a deep breath and pressing a hand to his chest to calm his heart. He should have known better by now, he mused, that Louis screaming bloody murder did not equate to Louis getting murdered.

“I was in the shower and there it was suddenly in with me, the perverted little shit, and I need you to come and get rid of it!”

“… Lou, what exactly is ‘it’?”

“THE SPIDER, Zayn, keep up!”

“… Look, Lou, I feel sorry for you, babe, I really do, but I’m out on a date at the moment. I’m not running back to help you kill a little spider.” Zayn drawled, smiling apologetically across the table where his partner was flashing him curious but worried puppy eyes.

“IT’S NOT LITTLE-”

“Yes, yes, it’s huge and terrifying, I got it- I’m still not coming home.” He interrupted abruptly, rolling his eyes at his drama queen of a best mate.

“I can’t believe this- Your best friend rights are invoked! I’m never talking to you again!”

“Look, just go over and ask Harry to get it for you; it’s the perfect opportunity for you to talk to him. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to play your knight in shining armour and rescue you, damsel in distress.” Zayn sighed heavily, running a weary hand through his hair lightly, a smirk breaking across his lips at the flustered spluttering he could hear from the other male.

“Shut up, I hate you. I’m going to change the locks so you can’t get in.”

“Love you too, idiot. I’m hanging up now; I’ll see you later.”

~

Louis stared at his phone in disbelief. Zayn did not just hang up on him.

He raised the phone to his ear again, growling furiously at that obnoxious beeping that greeted him- he DID, that lil-

The caramel haired male froze at the slight movement he spotted at the corner of his eye, wide frightened orbs darting to the door to see the black hairy creature skittering towards him.

Louis did the only logical thing he could think of in the moment- He screamed at ran for the main door, flying across and thumping desperately at the door beside his.

“Curly, Haz, I need your help!” The door flew open to reveal Harry, topless and clad in (frankly very scandalous, in Louis’ opinion (and also very drool worthy)) yoga pants, curly hair pulled in a bun- Louis almost choked on his tongue, mind going blissfully blank as his eyes followed a few stray droplets of sweat lolling leisurely down the taller male’s abs.

Louis sighed internally, wishing he could be that drop of sweat.

“Louis? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” He was snapped out of his thoughts by Harry’s deep voice, humming distractedly as his eyes flicked back up to meet worry darkened forest green ones.

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright, Lou?”

Oh right. He was here for a reason, wasn’t he, for the spider- THE SPIDER.

“No, no, look, I know we’ve only just met a couple of times, and even though I like to think of us as friends, but this must be so weird for you, and I assure you that I’m not one in the habit of showing up at stranger’s houses practically naked- even though I do fancy the pants off you, and while we are on the topic of pants, can I just tell you how sinful you’re looking right now in those- anyway, I feel like you might like me too, but that’s not the point! Thing is, I was in the shower and there was this thing and I rang Zayn, but that dick wouldn’t come home, and then it came for me, and I swear to God it’s trying to eat my head, and now I can’t go back in, and I just need you to get rid of it. Please.” Louis gulped, words spewing uncontrollably with the emotional stress of having to face that spider and now having to face his very hot and also wonderfully perfect neighbor, big blue eyes staring at Harry pleadingly as the other male stood shocked in his doorway.

“Uh- I- I’m not even sure what to say, but yeah, okay.”

“Okay?” Louis blinked up at Harry, lungs stuttering with relief. Harry shrugged nonchalantly, flashing a deep dimpled grin as he reached behind him to shut his door.

“Yeah, even though I’m not sure what exactly I’m supposed to do, but I’ll help you, Lou.”

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver, Harry Styles!”

~

“Thanks for that, Haz. Seriously, you don’t know how grateful I am.” Louis breathed out happily, flopping over on the couch and smiling up at Harry, drained from screaming the locations of the spider at the latter as he scurried around to catch it.

They finally did after what felt like an eternity but was probably really only ten minutes, Harry running downstairs to release the little critter back into the wild.                                                                                

“It’s not a problem at all, Lou. ‘M happy to help.”

“Yeah, well, would you… Would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime? My treat, of course, as thanks for today?” Louis offered tentatively, smiling bashfully at the delighted smile blooming across Harry’s lips.

“Oh- I- yeah, of course, I’d love that.”

“Say… tomorrow night at 7?”

“It’s a date, Lou.”

“It’s a date.”

~

“Haz! Haz, thank God.”

“Lou? Wha- Why are you whispering?” Harry paused, eyebrows furrowing with worry at the genuine fear he could hear in his boyfriend’s voice.

“Never mind that, it’s not important. Listen, you need to get home right now.” Louis hissed down the line, words fumbling together hastily as he peeked out into the hallway of their home.

“What? What happened, Lou? Are you alright?” The curly haired male questioned, mind racing with thoughts of what could have possibly gone wrong in the hour he’d left Louis to his own devices. He’d fed him before he left too, so it wasn’t likely that Louis’d burnt the place down trying to cook, and last he’d seen his boy, he’d been giggling at something on TV.

“No, I’m not alright, Harold! It’s an emergency- They’re here!” The smaller male spat out, heart pounding frantically as he darted nimbly across said hallway, movements swift and silent to prevent them from finding him.

“They’re-? What are you talking about, babe? Who’s there?”

“You know what I’m talking about!! The one that starts with ‘C’!”

“The one that starts with ‘C’? Lou, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Harry pressed in exasperated confusion, rolling his eyes at Louis’ rather dramatic reply.                                                                                    

“The one we do not speak of!”

“Oh. Oh. Lou, I need you to pack our bags, we’ll be staying in a hotel until the exterminator gives us the all clear.” Harry gasped with realization, lips pinched tight as he quickened his pace to the car.

“One step ahead of you there, Haz. All bags packed- yours too- and hotel booked.”

“You are a god send, Louis Tomlinson. I’ll meet you out front in 15.”

“I’m already here waiting, H.”

~Fin.~