#he needed to do these things frequently in order to keep sharp

[gingermintpepper]

So, one of the most interesting things that's come from my recent exercises in writing the Olympians as young deities is all of the very fun and somewhat painful conversations that come from the young deities acquiring and consequently settling into their domains.

Apollo and Artemis especially have been really fascinating under the microscope. They start off identically, with extremely similar interests and similar domains over the hunt and wilderness. They spend their days under the stars and foraging for fruit and dancing and singing in the fields, two rustic god-children exploring and learning together. Then Apollo goes off on his own to slay Python.

Now, a lot of things change when Apollo kills Python. That is the act which transforms the bow from a tool of survival and sport to an instrument of murder, bloodshed and ultimately war. It is Apollo's first act of wrath which separates him from Artemis - both spiritually because she has not yet shed blood herself as a goddess and physically because it leads to his exile. Most importantly however, the slaying of Python is the act that grants Apollo his knowledge.

If violence is what first separates Apollo from Artemis then it is knowledge which keeps them apart.

This can refer to a lot of things; that Artemis continued to be at home with the wild beasts of the forests and mountains while Apollo grew to prefer the domesticated sheep and cattle, that Artemis continued to avoid mortals while Apollo grew to know their ways and endeavoured to teach them more. The point that has been the most interesting to me however has been Artemis, who remains free of slaughter, and thus remains pure and Apollo, who becomes acutely and entirely too aware of it, and thus must be constantly purified.

Apollo's infatuation with medicine specifically is the place where this becomes most apparent. When he leaves for his exile to travel as a mortal, without nectar or ambrosia, without power, Apollo is without the privileges of the divine for the very first time. He sweats, he smells, he grows weary when he travels, he grows hungry and thirsty. He experiences fatigue and nausea, the fever of sickness, the chill of infection, the delirium of poison. The blood Apollo shed does not only make him impure spiritually, it strips him of the purity of his birth and station. Likewise, medicine is not a divine practice. What use do the unkillable immortals have for something as finicky as medicine when they have nectar and ambrosia? Apollo however, knows of the pains of the flesh and the suffering of the mortal coil. He pursues medicine in all its horrors and difficulties because of the knowledge he gained with blood.

Artemis then, cannot understand the medical Apollo. When her brother returns possessed by this spectre of ill-gained knowledge, she does not recognise him. Who is this boy who scores the deer and studies the shape of their intestines before he cooks them? What good is there in rescuing a chick with a broken wing? The Apollo-of-the-Wild in her memories would have done the correct thing and left the thing for dead - let the forest take what is its due. Who is this Apollo whose hands are always stained to the wrist in the blood and gore of the living? What is his fascination with the mechanics of mortal bodies? Artemis does not know and Apollo does not tell her.

That has, by far, been my favourite effect of the whole Python watershed moment to explore recently.

[itzpookiepooh]

HI HIII <333 love your work! I was wondering if you could do a LaDS hc them having a kinda sick (preferably chubby!) gf (I’m pre diabetic, I have PMD and motion sickness so I’m always on some medication :p ) Like I said love your work and keep it up! 👍🏽 make sure you have a good meal, water and good rest 🫶🏽

Omg hi! I love this I’m always on meds too! It’s currently 2am on the 24th I just showered and I’m about to find something to tear up. I hope you’re well rested and hydrated! I’ll give it my best shot!

Zayne who always knows how to help when you’re having a sick day. Maybe it’s because he’s a doctor and studied medicine diligently. Maybe it’s because he wants to help you in the best way he possible. (We know which one it is)

Zayne who always carries around motion sickness medication in his car, jacket, office, anywhere you need it. He usually carries alternatives if you need it for pain. He takes very good care of you.

Zayne who, if he deems you too sick, won’t let you go out. He will try to find a way to make being at home fun. You can tell him that you feel fine later but he doesn’t think it would be in your best interest to go out immediately after. He helps you as best he can without making it seem like he’s hovering even though he worries and wants what’s best for you.

Sylus who feels helpless when you’re sick. He tries to do his best to make you feel comfortable. He also does a lot of research to see if there’s anything he could do to make you feel better. He puts a lot of thought into it too.

Sylus who tries to see if there is a pattern to your sickness so he knows what to do and what not to do. He doesn’t want to mess up and make it worse so he tries to see if he can catch on. He’s very cautious about a lot of things too just in case.

Sylus who if he has to drive you somewhere tries not to drive too harshly. He doesn’t want you feeling dizzy or sick. He’ll try his best not to hit the corner too fast and sharp. He also (only for you) drives the speed limit and if he has to, goes slower for you.

Caleb who stays up to date with you when you’re sick. If you say you feel even an ounce of sick he’s calling off work to care for you. He doesn’t care if he’s in the middle of a meeting, he’ll be there before you can blink. You are his priority, always.

Caleb who makes sure you check your blood sugar regularly. He gets worried when it gets too low and tries everything to fix it. He even learned how to use the machine himself so you wouldn’t have to do it alone. He also takes note of what you consume during the day and what spikes it to see what he needs to change in his recipes.

Caleb who takes your motion sickness seriously. He keeps medication with him at all times. He won’t even drive fast if he knows you’ll feel nauseous. He makes you lie down in the dark if it gets too much. One thing Caleb doesn’t play about is your health.

Xavier who makes sure you get your rest when you don’t feel well. He doesn’t mind napping with you or just plain resting. He makes sure wherever you both end up laying you are comfortable.

Xavier who researches ways to help and hoping cooking isn’t involved because he doesn’t want to “kill you” as you would say. He orders in instead but makes sure it doesn’t bother your blood sugar.

Xavier who tries his best to deal with you when you’re sick. He checks on you frequently and asks if there is anything he can do to help. Most times him just being there is enough.

Rafayel who panics when you stumble from dizziness. He tries everything and searches the web to understand what he can do. He tries his best to help you and ends up putting you in the bath in the dark. He gives you an eye mask to make sure not a peep of light comes in.

Rafayel who is strict about certain foods and when you eat because he doesn’t want you to feel sick. He stands over you as you check your blood sugar. If it’s low he immediately begins to worry. He makes you lie down and looks up how to get it back up.

Rafayel who spends his days loving you and making you feel loved. He knows being sick is bothersome and sometimes you feel bad he’s taking care of you but he reminds you that you’re in this together. The going gets tough but he’s not going!

I tried to do research on PMD and got two results so I tried my very best <3

[leonw4nter]

Hellooo, may I request reader dating a Spiderman! Leon (I'm such as a sucker for re2 Leon and the thought of him as spiderman) hcs??? He thinks he does a good enough job covering up his superhero identity, but unfortunately for him reader had that figured out for quite a while. He's not as sneaky/careful as he thinks he is hehe

So If You Need A Hero, Just Look In The Mirror!

[Spiderman!RE2!Leon x GN!Reader]

Leon has long been Spiderman before he decided to date you, hiding this aspect of him when he was courting you to let him be your boyfriend. He felt guilty that he had to hide his masked persona from you but he knows that it’s for the best in order to keep everyone close to him safe. An ordinary 21 year-old officer in blues by day, a web-shooting hero swinging from the buildings of Raccoon City by night.

You know that Spiderman exists and you admire him, doodling his mask on the corners of blank papers when the day is slow and idle; what you don’t know is that your boyfriend is Spiderman. Yet even without that knowledge, you consider yourself incredibly lucky to have someone so gentle and kind like he is; not everyone has a boyfriend that is patient and slow to anger.

You both would schedule dates and Leon’s schedule is free when all of a sudden, he has to go somewhere and reschedule the date. He would always appear sheepish and regretful when he had to break the news to you, especially when you were so eager to try out the dishes at the restaurant you two had reserved. You asked about it and he always responded with “it’s complicated” in a bashful and silent voice so you thought that it had something to do with a difficult family situation or a tough work environment. He usually didn’t share about them and you didn’t prod for more information, offering comfort and reassurance instead yet you still wondered what disrupts his evenings like this. You were confused about this habit but not overly suspicious.

You noticed that Leon would frequently come home with small cuts and bruises to the face, arms, hands, and torso.

“Leon, what are they making you do at work?! Why do you always come home battered in bruises?!” You exclaim as you look at the cut in the high point of Leon’s cheek, light pink and still bleeding slightly. His face is on your palms, tilted to the side as you try to get a better look at his injuries.

“You know how crime is now, they’re getting more violent,” Leon explains as he tries to ease your worries. “A few delinquents got me but I’m still in one piece.”

“But still!” You reasoned as worry creased your forehead. “Aren’t there other officers with you too?”

“Yes there are and they’re just as injured as I am,” he responds. He really wants to give you the honest explanation of his wounds– the fact that they’re from fighting crime as a hero named after an arachnid and not because of a rough encounter with some petty criminals– but he can’t; it’ll put you in harm’s way. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I didn’t graduate at the top of my academy for nothing, did I?”

You sigh and nod, but not before you look Leon sternly in the eyes with a pout. “But that doesn’t mean you’re totally invincible, Leon.”

He smiles, listening to you scold him on and on while you dab ointment on his wounds.

Leon often catches things as they fall mid-air and reacts faster than the average person, which both his partner and coworkers notice. The station attributes the replacement of the old bookshelf due to his sharp senses, having informed the station that they had to find a new one to take its place. Leon simply heard a tiny, faint creak of one of the planks holding up dense files which meant that about any time now, if they didn’t take any action, it would collapse and cause a mess. He always explained it with him having a sharp sense of hearing and being agile but in reality, it’s because of his heightened senses that he developed after the bite.

Whenever the news of Spiderman comes in the news, he’s always ready to drop whatever he was doing and see himself on the TV by footage of people who've seen him with the mask and suit. He watches intently, worried that his identity would be leaked and even a single frame of his face would be identified even if he makes sure that his mask always stays on. You chalk up his keen fascination with the hero as admiration and being a fan-boy, chuckling at the sight of seeing his boyfriend look so serious as he watches the friendly neighbourhood hero save the day once again.

You went home early one day, pleased that your boss decided to close up hours ahead of your usual closing time. When you got home, the house was dark save for the small beam of light peeking through the gaps at the bottom of the storage closet’s door. Interested, you walked close and heard some thudding and heavy breathing coming from the closed door. You swiftly turn the knob and walk in to see Leon standing half naked in his boxer shorts and a red something bunched out behind him on the floor. New bruises and scratches adorned his muscular torso, yet to be cleaned and tended to by your boyfriend in front of you.

“Leon?!” You bellowed. “What the fuck were you doing?!”

His hands come up to cover the bruises, looking at you with a terrified expression as a flush blooms in his cheeks and chest.

“Listen, I can explain–”

“Are you cheating on me?! Is that a girl’s dress behind you–”

“No, sweetheart, please– I’m not cheating on you or anything like that! You know I’d never do that to you–”

“I’m giving you 3 minutes to talk, Kennedy. Start. Now.”

Leon fumbles around, trying to find something– anything– to cover up with but he gives up, nearly bare as he tries to survive the crushing pressure of the situation. He starts off by picking up the red something you eyed earlier, holding it out properly so you can truly see that it is not a dress but a bodysuit with details resembling webs.

“I’m… I’m Spiderman.”

“I have a mental facility on speed dial–”

“No!” He turns his wrist to face skyward and shoots a web that aimed for your phone, snatching it out of your grasp. Your cellphone is now in his hand. “Is that enough proof or do I also need to lay eggs like a spider does so you’ll believe me.”

“No!” Now it’s your turn to explain, swatting him on the shoulder as you take the phone back. “Fine, fine. I believe you. But I did have the idea that you’re him for a long time now.”

The color from Leon’s face drained again, heart threatening to burst inside his chest.

“How… how…” he quietly asked as he tried to inspect your expression, trying to name an emotion based on your face.

“I mean… when you’re suddenly gone in the evening when we go on dates, you say you’re going to the RPD but you don’t rush home to get your bag with your permit and badges and stuff. When I get home and you’re still gone, it’s just sitting at the foot of your bed. You also always smell like something burnt or maybe rusty, which you don’t normally smell like when you get home from work. And don’t get me started on your injuries– they’re way too much for a police officer who apprehends petty criminals from time to time.”

The blond is at a loss for words, mouth bobbing up and down but with no words coming out.

“You look like a fish,” you comment. He blinks to ground himself and tries to calm down.

“I thought I did a good job at hiding it,” he softly mutters.

“For a while, I thought you were cheating on me and then I thought you were some gruesome murderer or something.”

“What?! No!” He exclaims, his hands waving to dismiss the idea. “Cheat?! Murder?! No, I’d never!”

“Good. So… you really are Spiderman.”

“Yeah… kind of relieved that this is out now, though I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

You displayed some coldness towards your boyfriend for a little bit, letting him know that hiding things from you isn’t good and that he should’ve been open but you cut him some slack, acknowledging that he did it for your well-being and that it’s also hard on his part too because the weight of his double life can be crushingly heavy.

Leon’s become more comfortable, sometimes cracking a spider-related joke or two with you. Of course, he made you swear that you’ll be the only one to know who Spiderman really is and you promised– for the safety of everyone involved with Leon. Now with this information, sometimes you buy little spider-related trinkets or some Spiderman merchandise that stores sell to fluster him.

He’s decided to take it upon himself to teach you some self-defense moves in case a villain decides to use you to their evil plans in order to taunt Leon, a situation both of you hope will never happen.

One day, you asked Leon to wear the suit for you in your shared apartment. After locking all doors and shutting all blinds, he walks out of the storage closet he keeps his costume in and appears in front of you. He poses first and climbs to the ceiling, hanging upside down as he looks at you. Feeling a little daring that day, you ask if you can lift his mask up to the bridge of his nose and place a careful kiss on his lips as he’s still upside down, planning to ask you if you two can have upside down kisses more often after this one.

NOTE - Hi y'all! I'm back again (for now mwahaha) :D Thank you to graveyardgrrrrrl for requesting, hope you like this one 🤩 I'm so happy that I got to finish one request already, this one has been marinating in my doc for about a month now so I hope the wait is worth it! Thankful to the 4 hour free period I have to be able to cook this up >:) I've been up to a lot of things-- adjusting to a new school with a system different from my old school (I already lost aura multiple times...) and reading so I've been quite busy as I tried to come up with ideas for fics. I hope everyone's doing well, you got this and I believe in you :)) Anyway, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <333333333333 UUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The blue web divider is made by @adornedwithlight , the images are from Pinterest.

[styluswritesdc]

DC Rogues with Nurse Reader

General Headcanons + GN!Reader (gender not specified)

follow up post to this!

Riddler/Edward Nygma

Its obvious that you'll be answering a lot of riddles, right?

For every tablet he takes you'll either need to answer a riddle, and if you cant do that, you'll have to give him some gossip at least!

After awhile of building up a repour, he will flirt with you.

This, at the beginning, might be a test to see if you're easily manipulated in order to help him escape, but after awhile of you rebuking his efforts, he'll find himself disappointed that he cant get your attention.

He might ask you why you chose to work here, in this hell hole. he wants to know about you.

if you get him a pack of cards or some sudoku puzzles he will really like you. you might be spared come the next breakout...

Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane

"tell me, what's your biggest fear.." buddy I just walked into your cell just take your fucking medication.

Do tell him though. otherwise he will slowly begin psychoanalysing you and it will get uncomfortable real quick. suddenly he's bringing up your relationship with your father?? you're the patient here man.

if you're diligent, respectful and indulge his questions, he might actually acknowledge your existence.

ask him about his work, as a psychologist that is. He will go full lecturer mode and tell you about his work in parts over multiple visits to him.

bring him a book or two from the library to ease the boredom.

if you treat him well, lets say next time there's a breakout, he might not spray you with his latest formula.. just yet.

TwoFace/Harvey Dent

He's hostile. regardless of who's fronting. as his cell is divided in two, one side in shambles, the other nice and neat so you can tell who you're dealing with from day to day.

respect the coin. if he denies bloods or medication, come back later. the only other option would be the guards holding him down and forcing it, which sucks for everyone, and they will lose trust in you.

its better to work around them, and respect them.

please get his coin for him. the guards take it frequently as they're unruly and tend to be difficult.

you'll win their favour by just being kind. plus on the next breakout, you won't immediately be shot on sight!

Killer Croc/Waylon Jones

Oh poor Waylon. my heart aches for how he's treated, especially in the Arkham games. like an animal they want to forget even exists.

He is a human, and if you treat him like one, you will immediately be better than every other staff member there.

you will rarely have to get bloods, to monitor his condition.

be gentle with him. he feels a lot of pain due to his condition. don't add to it.

it will get to a point that Waylon will get pissed if its a different nurse. you take blood well and it doesn't hurt too much and doesn't leave a massive bruise under his scales.

Bane

For the most part he's just silent and calm. He understands you're just doing your job and he doesn't really care to resist.

The only things he questions you on is what specific medication he's taking, the side effects and how it will effect his body.

his body is his temple and he takes care of it!

get him a book, he wants to keep his mind sharp whilst in here.

he also uses recreational time to lift weights and exercise.

Harley Quinn

Shes brilliant. such a treat to care for.

genuinely so understanding! i mean she was a psychologist here after all. she also cared about her patients and appreciates that you do too.

She will natter on about all the asylum gossip! trust me, you'll learn a lot about the other inmates.

please talk to her! a bit of human companionship does her well. it stops her from going anymore crazy than she already is.

Poison Ivy/Pamela Isley

oh sweet child, you're disillusioned with the world. She hates the idea of a meat bag like you coming anywhere near her.

However, if you respect her, she'll let you tend to her.

Please ask her about plant and gardening tips, she'll be happy to indulge. plus you'll actually know why your orchid plant hates you and keeps wilting.

you're a meat bag that she tolerates.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Into My Arms

Pairing: Osferth x f!reader Warnings: Canon typical violence, smut, fluff. Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: Osferth is tired of her underestimating him, of being seen as nothing more than "Baby Monk", so goes out of his way to prove to her that he is so much more than that. A little birthday treat for @doomwhathouwilt - based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She points the tip of her sword to her opponent’s chest, dragging him closer by the shoulder as it plunges forward to the hilt, before sliding it back and watching him crumple in a heap before her, his lifeless eyes staring up towards a gray sky. She cannot hear the screams of pain, the cries of triumph around her over the roar of the blood in her ears.

Her body aches with exertion, the arrows in her quiver are long spent, meaning she has to use her blade to defend herself. As the fighting dies down she is left only with the hammering of her heart, panting for breath as the world swims back into focus, and she is greeted by the coppery smell of viscera and the rancid stench of shit. She feels like crying, the adrenaline that courses through her is beginning to subside as she watches what little remains of their opponents flee, the majority of their forces having been cut down.

There is rarely a dull moment on the road with Uhtred and his men; she's been with him since he parted ways with Brida, accompanying him and Leofric on their travels. She enjoys never settling anywhere for long, drinking ale and sharing stories beneath the stars. It keeps her skills as an archer sharp, their battles are frequent, though lately she finds herself tiring of them, there is little joy to be found in taking the life of another.

She longs to give up, to declare she can take no more, but as her weary eyes look up, taking in the aftermath of the battle, she is met with the very reason why she continues on. Osferth’s eyes, vividly blue and wide with fright remain fixed ahead, his grip on his weapon so tight his knuckles are blanched with the force of it. Though he fights courageously, there is fear in his heart and she worries about what will happen to him if she simply walks away from all of this. They all give him a hard time; he is a Christian, always seems to say the wrong thing and has no qualms with passing judgment on their behaviours that he deems inappropriate. Despite all of this, he is steadfast in his loyalty to the group, and so she along with the rest of them would gladly lay down her life for him.

They sit around the campfire, tending to the minor injuries they’ve sustained, cuts and scrapes alike. She bats away Sihtric’s attempts to dab at her temple with a moistened rag.

“It’s a scratch, leave it be,” She says with resignation. Her eyelids feel heavy as she stares ahead into the flames, she longs for sleep.

“I think this calls for ale and women!” Finan declares, slapping his thighs and standing up.

“And prayer,” Osferth adds, with a hopeful smile.

“Yes, but in that order,” Finan counters with a grin.

She remains seated as the four of them head towards the village, she has no desire to join in with their festivities.

Osferth glances over his shoulder, pausing and allowing the group to move ahead when he notices she remains where she is.

“Are you not joining us, my lady?” He asks, brows pinched together with concern.

“Not tonight, no,” She says quietly. “I’m not in the mood.”

He nods, returning to the fire and seating himself next to her. “Then I shall stay with you and keep you company.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I don’t. But I want to.”

She looks at him, a warm smile spreading across her face as she sees the sincerity in his eyes.

“There’ll be women waiting for you in the village,” She teases.

The tips of his ears turn pink. “I’m not interested,” He tells her with a shy grin.

“I doubt you’d know what to do with them anyway, Baby Monk,” She chuckles lightly.

“I do, actually,” His voice is stern, his expression hardened and she worries she’s offended him.

“I was only jo–”

Her words are cut off as Osferth leans in, pressing his mouth to hers. His lips are soft yet firm against her own and the kiss steals her breath away. He keeps their foreheads pressed close, his thumb tracing lightly over her cheek as he pulls back.

Her heart flutters wildly as her breaths come shakily. “Y-your blood still runs hot from battle, Baby Monk, we should not do this.”

“I am tired of waiting for you to see me as I see you,” He whispers. “Let me show you how much I desire you.”

This time when his lips capture hers, she returns the gesture with equal enthusiasm, allowing herself to get lost in the basic primal urge of feeling wanted.

Deft hands exchange caresses across each other’s bodies, each pass of their fingers serving to remove an item of clothing until the two of them lay bare beneath the night sky. Her flesh prickles against the chill of the air, but she barely notices as her eyes drink in the sight of the man before her.

She looks appreciatively, silently cursing the robes that have been swamping the hard planes of muscle of Osferth’s torso. Her breath hitches at the sight of his hardened length, it’s thick and long, flushed pink at the tip, it appears that he is full of surprises.

“You are beautiful,” He declares softly, taking his time to gaze upon her own form, and she feels her skin grow heated at his compliment.

As he moves his body to cover hers, his mouth travels a path from her neck to her chest, leaving a trail of wet, opened mouthed caresses. He suckles on the hardened peaks of her breasts and she arches against him, a soft moan escaping her at the jolt of arousal that rushes through her.

She halts Osferth’s movements when he attempts to move lower, the ache between her thighs is unbearable and she is certain she needs no further preparation. “Please,” She whispers. “I want you.”

He inhales sharply at this, pupils blown wide with lust and hovers over her as she spreads her legs further to accommodate him. The gentle stretch as he pushes slowly inside is exquisite torture and causes her to gasp.

He pauses for a moment, softly stroking her hair. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, it feels good,” She reassures him. “Please don’t stop.”

He kisses her deeply as he bottoms out, allowing her a moment to adjust before he begins to rock his hips. His strokes are sure and even, and she finds herself wondering if this is practiced or purely instinctual. She had expected Osferth to be clumsy and inexperienced, yet every thrust of his hips finds a spot inside her that leaves her crying out as her toes curl involuntarily.

“I have wanted you for so long,” He whispers into her ear, as his hips snap against hers with more urgency. “You feel better than I have ever dreamed.”

She feels her eyes grow misty with emotion at this, the combination of his soft confessions and the pleasure she is experiencing becoming too much, until the tightly wound coil within her lower belly finally snaps, and she falls apart, clenching ceaselessly around him, as her cries of ecstasy are offered up to the stars above them.

Osferth shudders, pulling out of her with a strangled groan, stroking frantically at himself as he paints her upper thighs with his spend before collapsing beside her.

As the euphoria begins to wear off, she becomes aware of the tickle of the damp grass against her back, the coolness that licks against her sweaty skin.

He gently tugs her to his chest and she goes willingly, draping herself across him, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Just fine, Baby Monk.”

“Could you…could you just call me Osferth? Simply Osferth.” He asks gently.

She lifts her head from his chest, raising a questioning eyebrow at him and he smiles fondly down at her.

“It seems more fitting for you to call me by name if you’re to be my woman.”

“Your woman?” She feels her stomach flutter.

“Yes, my woman,” He gives her a squeeze. “If that’s agreeable to you.”

She squeezes him back. Nothing has ever sounded better.

Read on AO3

More Osferth fics

[veinspookiebear]

Do you perhaps have any Link Click headcanons you'd like to share with the class??

Not immediately off the top of my head, but you've given me a great reason to sit down and think about it SO!! These may be wordy I like to yap when I think about things

(They did in fact get wordy putting them under a cut so it's not a wall of text /silly)

Big fan of the headcanon that LG cuts CXS's hair when it needs a trim <3 I think before they lived together he always got it done by a stylist, but they could never get it quite to his liking. QL did it for him sometimes and he much preferred that, but she couldn't do it all the time. Then LG offers one day when he's complaining about it and gets it perfect and that just becomes the normal (LG never complains because he secretly loves his hair. And CXS maybe loves the feel of his hands in his hair too)

They order takeout a lot cause it's more convenient and works better for them especially when in the middle of missions (no wonder they're broke) but LG and CXS can both cook pretty well with the time, effort, and resources. Sometimes they cook together!! It goes about as well as you'd expect but somehow the food still turns out delicious. CXS says it's because they made it with love

QL (basically canonically /hj) clocks shiguang so hard but I think it'd be funny if she like. not quite wingwomans but does subtle things to push them together that gradually get more unhinged/obvious. Neither of them piece together what she's trying to do and she refuses to explain it even as she slowly loses her mind

QL and CXS have video game nights on the weekends. Occasionally they can drag LG into playing, but mostly he watches and commentates where he sees fit. He's in charge of snacks though

Both CXS and LG have nightmares, especially frequently after the events of S2. Inevitably they wake each other up. They have a silent agreement not to talk about things they dream about, at least not in depth (they can kind of figure, anyway), but they know how to comfort each other even without that specific knowledge. If it's particularly bad they end up cuddling the rest of the night, a constant reminder that the other is there, and they're safe for now, and they're loved.

LG actually has a ton of pictures of cosplays he did before he and CXS met. CXS found them, and ever since he's been trying to convince LG to cosplay again. It's not that he doesn't want to, necessarily, he just doesn't have the time and resources that he used to. Once things settle down, he starts cosplaying every now and then, and a lot of times CXS joins him as the other half to a duo or just another character he likes. QL joins in sometimes too. (Turns out to be a great marketing strategy)

CXS in a dress. Need I say more

(Okay I'll say more. He doesn't wear dresses or similar clothing very often, but he does have a few and occasionally, when they don't have any business and he feels like it, he'll wear one. It's made entirely worth it by the way it utterly breaks LG, without fail. QL insists that's not a bro reaction. She also wholeheartedly encourages CXS)

LG isn't afraid to crossdress either if it means breaking CXS in return. This is exactly what happened the first time he cosplayed a female character.

CXS has a loose workout schedule that he can fit around their job and maybe takes a fighting class every now and then to keep his skills sharp. He says it's for his skills. It's mostly for his skills. Having some muscle definition with his sleeveless shirts and giving LG something to stare at is just a bonus!

Projecting here but I think both of them would love Epic: The Musical. CXS would vibe with the music and know all the words and LG would analyze it and reread the Odyssey and break down source to adaptation comparisons. They would love musical theater in general actually they just have that vibe to me

Also projection but giving LG a weighted blanket. He deserves it

Plushies too!! They don't have any in the show I can recall of the top of my head and I think they would both have at least a couple. A respective dog and cat that look like their shorts versions, for sure

CXS is grumpy about waking up until he's fully functioning, then he's got so much energy he has to get up and spend it. LG is not a morning person. If there's no urgent reason to get up, until CXS coaxes him out with coffee, he is not moving.

[agirlnamedelia]

Clean Slate

As part of the cleaning regiment, you’re assigned to help Levi with maintaining the underground headquarters. Levi, known for his strict cleanliness standards, is surprised to find you have an equally strong dedication to keeping things spotless. Over time, the two of you bond over the shared responsibility, leading to quiet but meaningful moments. One day, you fall ill, and Levi shows a softer side, caring for you and ensuring you get better, revealing his deeper feelings.

The sound of scrubbing echoed through the underground headquarters as you diligently worked on polishing the floors. Levi, ever the perfectionist, was beside you, his eyes sharp as he inspected every corner. He barely spoke, his focus entirely on maintaining the spotless environment that he demanded.

“Missed a spot,” he commented, pointing to a corner you had just finished.

You bit back a sigh, knowing better than to argue. “I’ll get it,” you replied, grabbing the cloth again.

Levi watched you as you went over the area with renewed vigor. He was surprised by your dedication—most people would have grumbled or given up by now. But you matched his standards, and he found himself respecting you for it.

“You’re pretty meticulous,” he remarked after a while, breaking the usual silence.

“Someone’s got to keep up with you,” you shot back with a small smile. “Besides, it’s kind of satisfying to see everything so clean.”

Levi nodded, almost imperceptibly. “It is.”

Days turned into weeks, and you and Levi fell into a routine. There was something comforting about the quiet moments you shared, working side by side to keep the headquarters in pristine condition. Conversations were rare, but they didn’t need to be frequent; you both understood each other through your actions.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you noticed Levi lingering after you’d finished your tasks. “Levi, is something wrong?” you asked, wiping your hands on your apron.

He shook his head. “No, just… you’ve been doing a good job. Better than most.”

You blinked, surprised by the compliment. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

He nodded again, then turned to leave, but not before casting one last glance your way. You could feel the warmth in your chest, a connection growing stronger with every passing day.

The next morning, you woke up feeling off. Your head throbbed, and your body ached. Despite this, you forced yourself out of bed, determined to get your work done. You knew Levi wouldn’t tolerate any slacking, and you didn’t want to disappoint him.

But as you stumbled into the cleaning supplies room, Levi was already there, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in your pale complexion. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, his tone harsher than usual.

“Cleaning,” you replied weakly, reaching for a mop.

“Like that?” He stepped closer, frowning. “You’re sick.”

“I’m fine,” you protested, though the wobble in your voice betrayed you.

Levi’s scowl deepened, and before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the nearest chair. “Sit. You’re not doing anything until you’re better.”

“Levi, I can still—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, though there was a rare softness in his eyes. “You’re not fine, and I’m not letting you make it worse.”

You blinked, stunned by his concern. Levi wasn’t one to coddle anyone, let alone show this level of care. But here he was, his hands gentle as he guided you to sit down.

“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’ll get something for your fever.”

You didn’t protest, feeling too weak to argue. As he left the room, you leaned back, closing your eyes. The pounding in your head made it hard to think, but one thing was clear—Levi was worried about you, and that realization sent a strange warmth through your chest.

Levi returned with a damp cloth and some medicine. He handed you the medicine first, watching closely as you swallowed it. Then, he carefully placed the cloth on your forehead, his touch surprisingly tender.

“Why are you…?” you started, but he cut you off with a stern look.

“Because I’m not an idiot,” he replied curtly. “And I’m not going to let you push yourself into a worse condition. You’re important here.”

The words hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but smile despite your discomfort. “Thank you, Levi.”

He grunted in response, but you could see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Just get better, alright? I can’t keep this place spotless on my own.”

You chuckled, which quickly turned into a cough. Levi’s expression softened further as he adjusted the cloth on your forehead. “Rest,” he commanded. “That’s an order.”

You nodded, too tired to argue. As you closed your eyes, you felt Levi’s hand brush against yours, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes.

==

Over the next few days, Levi kept a close eye on you, ensuring you had everything you needed to recover. He didn’t say much, but his actions were enough to convey what words couldn’t. And when you finally started to feel better, he was the first to notice, his relief almost palpable.

“Good to see you up and about,” he remarked one morning as you joined him in the cleaning supplies room.

“Good to be back,” you replied with a smile. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Levi shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Don’t mention it.”

But as you resumed your duties, there was a newfound closeness between you, a bond forged in quiet moments and shared responsibilities. And though Levi never said it outright, you knew that he cared for you in a way that went beyond mere teamwork. In his own subtle way, he had shown you just how much you meant to him, and that was more than enough.

[mumms-the-word]

A Crow's Work is Never Done

Characters: Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook (Phyrra Mercar) Summary: Post-DATV, Lucanis and Rook attend a masked ball together. But Lucanis has some business he needs to take care of first before he can have any fun. Spite thinks he should just dance with Rook instead. A/N: This is kind of a spiritual successor/sequel to @cheerysmores' fic Unfinished Business (with a hint of vibes pulled from her excellent smut Yours. Mine. Ours. too!) so definitely check those out!! Friend, I hope I have done your Rook and Lucanis (and Spite!!) justice! Happy birthday!!

It had been some time since Lucanis attended a masked ball. He didn’t frequent Orlais much and Antiva had its own brand of extravagance that rarely required—or even desired— the anonymity of masks. The goal of a typical Antivan gala was to be seen and recognized. Be seen talking with the right (or sometimes wrong) people, be seen flaunting the latest fashions, be seen holding the finest glass of wine, be seen disappearing for a tryst that could entail anything from romance to business to murder. You had to be seen before you could be missed.

But Antiva had their masked events, too. A sense of carnivale was always the order of the day, a time of festive chaos where identities could be hidden for a few hours simply for the sake of shaking things up and keeping things interesting. While the Orlesians loved their masks, Antivans loved their theatre. The irony of the long-nosed trickster Zanni linking arms with the straight-laced Capitano braggart was part of the fun. If one didn’t see a gold-tressed Andraste (her hair always a wig) slipping away with an elegant Shartan (his elven ears sometimes fake) then it was a waste of a good masque. For a few short hours, you could become someone else for a change, acting the role of your new persona with all the zealous enthusiasm Antiva was known for.

Events like these were where the Crows thrived. Any given crowd of bird-masked figures could be hiding a genuine Crow in their midst. That, too, was part of the excitement. The man on your arm could be a wealthy merchant in a black-feathered mask, or he could be a sinister assassin, there to kill you. Do you risk the dance, the drink, the tryst? Are you any safer in the arms of a person dressed intentionally like a Crow? The only way to know was to take the chance.

Antivans did love a gamble.

It was no different tonight at this gala. Lucanis watched guests mingle, dance, and drink from his spot on a balcony overseeing the main ballroom. Though he had entered this villa as a guest, he was more comfortable watching from a distance, preferably somewhere up high and out of sight. Not so tonight. Tonight he needed to be seen…at least for a moment.

He adjusted the mask on his face, a black half-mask with a sharp beak curving down over his nose, a crown of eight blue-black feathers lining the edge. The Mask of the First House. It gave away his identity immediately—only one Crow family was ever allowed to wear this mask—but only to those in the know. Unfortunately for him, “those in the know” probably made up half of this crowd.

Treviso had too many Crows.

And this party had too many guests. Lucanis tapped his fingers idly on the railing of the balcony, conscious of every eye that swept up and over to look at him. It went against all his training to stand there out in the open, rather than slinking through the shadows. This was Illario’s realm, the kind of atmosphere his cousin had always thrived in, flirting and sweet-talking his way through crowds of men and women alike. In fact it wasn’t all that long ago that Lucanis watched from the roof as Illario navigated a Tevinter party to seduce some keys off a guard captain. That was before Zara, though. Before Spite.

Before Phyrra.

Where is she? Spite hissed in his ear. Lucanis cast a side-eyed look at the purple figure that materialized next to him. Spite walked restlessly along the edge of the balcony, keeping behind the banister as if it were a cage. He leaned over to look down at the ballroom below, as if Phyrra might be tucked directly underneath them, and then straightened again. Where?

“I left her with Teia and Viago,” Lucanis said. “They’ll keep her busy in another room while we work.” Or so they promised. Phyrra might have other ideas.

Work. Disdain and disgust dripped from the word when Spite said it. You said we could dance with Rook!

“And we will,” he said. “After the work is done.”

He looked across at another balcony directly opposite his, where a familiar dark-clad figure stood, half-obscured by a curtain. Their gazes locked across the space, an understanding born of years of work and training together crossing the distance easily and silently. Lucanis gave a single nod and the figure disappeared.

Him again, Spite spat. I want—

“No.”

Spite growled and paced again, but to Lucanis’ surprise, didn’t argue. The two of them could be of one mind about Phyrra, but Illario would always have them at odds. Lucanis was trying to keep forgiveness and redemption as an open option, no matter how much anger simmered beneath the surface whenever he thought of Illario’s betrayals. His opinion of Illario shifted by the moment, tangled up with years of memories and fresh hurts. Spite was much simpler. He saw Illario, and simply wanted blood.

Lucanis couldn’t blame him. Some days he was even jealous that Spite could be so direct with his feelings.

It wasn’t as though he wanted to work with his cousin. But ever since Illario had delivered that rogue Crow to his cellar and presented him with that serrated blade, the same one that had marred Phyrra’s back in an attack that never should have happened, Lucanis had agreed begrudgingly to let him assist in tracing the contract back from one piss-poor assassin to whatever mastermind was behind the contract. A single Crow could be dealt with easily, but a contract was forever, until the mark was dead.

Or until the contract itself was destroyed.

Next to him, Spite stiffened and then leaned over the banister again, craning his neck out toward the ballroom floor like a bloodhound on alert.

Rook!

Lucanis couldn’t help himself. He followed Spite’s gaze down among the crowd of masked guests, a churning sea of color and movement. His eyes fell on her immediately.

She looked stunning, her dark dress hugging every curve of her body, every line of her form sensual and lush. He’d loved that dress the moment she had put it on, back at the Dellamorte estate, loved the feel of it beneath his palm as he escorted her out of the carriage and into the ball with his hand at her waist, loved the thought of pulling it slowly and patiently from her body when they returned back to their room tonight. The fabric of the dress was a black, slightly iridescent material, the light of the candles and magelights reflecting subtle shades of blue, green, and pink like oil on dark water. The darker tones brought out the porcelain softness of her pale skin, while the occasional flash of rainbow made her magenta hair seem as natural as her perfect, ready smile.

She was, in a word, breathtaking.

She had always looked good in night tones—darkened sapphire and velvet black, midnight blue and rich indigo. Lucanis had once joked that she was made for a Crow’s color palette, that perhaps she ought to think about a change in factions, and she had laughed and said her hair would always give her away.

None of you are quite so colorful as me, she’d said, fluffing her pink curls.

It had made Lucanis smile. She always made him smile. And that is why I love you.

She wore a feathered mask of her own tonight. A gift from House Dellamorte, from Catarina herself, a more delicate replica of the Mask of the First House to match his. Every Crow here would recognize what it meant, and the power it gave her. Even if any of them dared to strike, they wouldn’t be able to plead ignorance.

She was a Dellamorte in all but name and she had entered on the arm of the First Talon. Anyone foolish enough to strike against her would find their names on a contract within moments, with all the might of House Dellamorte and its allies bearing down upon them. It should have guaranteed her safety, but instead…

Lucanis glanced back at the balcony where Illario had given him the signal. Clearly, despite all the ample warning his and Phyrra’s attire and appearance had given their audience, some fool was bold enough to make a move anyway. And now said fool was caught in a trap.

It would be rude to keep them waiting much longer.

Spite interrupted his thoughts with a strange sound, something between an irritated growl and a forlorn whine. She. Is. Looking!

Lucanis glanced down, heart in his throat, but Phyrra hadn’t seen him yet. She was enjoying a glass of wine with Teia and Viago, standing in one corner near the refreshment tables, but her eyes were not idle. She scanned the crowd, curious, but with a hint of disappointment. Looking for him, without a doubt.

He had disappeared from her side a few moments earlier with an excuse, one that only gave him twenty minutes of leeway at best. But Phyrra was sharp and at times wonderfully unpredictable. Those traits had served her well during their fight against the ancient elven gods. It could spell disaster tonight.

When her gaze swept up to the balconies, he stepped back, into the shadows. Spite, unseen by anyone but him, stayed by the railing, curling his fingers into the polished wood.

Us! She wants us!

“I’m aware. Come,” Lucanis said, needlessly because Spite couldn’t exactly get left behind. “The sooner we find out who this mastermind of ours is, the sooner we can return to Rook.”

The thought seemed to invigorate Spite. His sudden shift in excitement crashed through Lucanis’s mind like a gangly young pup. Yes! They hurt Rook!

Lucanis clenched his jaw, the image of that blade, stained with cheap poison, coming once again to his mind. If that poison had been successful (a pitifully low chance, but still a chance), it would have meant a slow death for Phyrra. A clumsy death. Dishonorable, agonizing, unskilled, and offensive to the very name of the Crows.

But the Crow who had attacked her was dead already. Whoever had sent him was not.

As if reading his mind, Spite was at his side in an instant, grinning wide. I want them dead!

Lucanis nodded. “As do I. Let’s go.”

—————

Lucanis returned over an hour later, weaving through the swaying crowds with ease and fixing the buttons on his sleeve as he went. That had taken longer than he liked. Illario was supposed to have everything contained to one room so that Lucanis could slip inside, carve a few answers out of the bastard, and then finish him off with speed.

Instead, the bastard had put up a fight.

It hadn’t been pretty and Illario had complained bitterly afterward about the bloodstains on his coat, but at least they had left with a few more names. They were getting closer to finding out whoever was behind the contract on Phyrra’s life. That had to count for something.

If his time as part of the Veilguard had taught Lucanis anything, it was that every victory mattered, no matter how small. Names were good. Progress was good. And, most importantly, no one would be ruining the rest of his night with Phyrra.

That was the biggest victory of them all.

Spite flickered in and out of view, appearing in gaps between people and looking high and low for Phyrra as Lucanis moved through the ballroom. At one point, Lucanis even caught him standing on a chandelier, holding onto the chain for purchase like a sailor in the rigging of a ship. Lucanis shot him an exasperated look, though it wasn’t as though anyone else could see Spite or that the chandelier was in danger from his being there. He hoped.

There! Rook! Spite pointed to the second level balcony, not far from where Lucanis had waited for his signal from Illario. Lucanis adjusted his gloves and made for the stairs, Spite disappearing from view but practically buzzing with excitement within his mind.

They found her leaning back against the balustrade, a half-empty glass of wine cradled in her hand. Teia and Viago stood nearby, chatting with her, but she seemed to only half listen to them, her face turned to keep most of the ballroom in sight in the corner of her eye. She looked up the moment that Lucanis drew near, as if sensing his approach.

“Lucanis,” she said, straightening and smiling at him. Even with the mask on her face, her smile brightened her whole expression, radiating out as if with tangible light. “Where have you been?

“Yes, my friend,” Viago drawled, looking, as usual, slightly annoyed and unimpressed. “Tell us what you’ve been up to that has been taking so long.”

Teia elbowed him hard in the side and then took his arm. “Ignore him, Lucanis. He’s just upset he missed all the action.” Viago made a noncommittal hmph but didn’t deny her accusation.

Phyrra cast a glance at Lucanis that was at first curious, then suspicious. “Action?”

Lucanis cleared his throat delicately. “Something came up.”

Lies, Spite hissed in his ear. Tell the truth! Tell her who we KILLED! Tell her how we did it! I want her to know!

“What happened?” Phyrra asked, instantly on alert. She set aside her wine glass and stepped closer, scanning his face and body for clues. “Did someone attack you? Do we have enemies here?”

Viago laughed. “You have enemies everywhere, Rook, least of all here. You should know better than to lead with such a question.”

“Stop teasing her, Vi,” Teia chided, pinching his arm now. She turned to Lucanis with a smile. “We’d better get back to the party. We have business of our own to attend to. Don’t we, Viago?” She gave him another nudge.

“Mm, yes, something to that effect,” he said, sharing a smile with her. It was the kind of smile he tended to save only for Teia, one that meant their business could just as easily be one of romantic passion as it could the business of the Crows. Lucanis didn’t dare ask which it would be tonight. He truly didn’t want to know.

Viago gave him a nod and then escorted Teia away. “Don’t wait up for us, First Talon. Enjoy your night.”

Phyrra watched them walk away, waiting until they had drawn far enough out of earshot before stepping close and lowering her voice to a whisper. “Business, Lucanis? I thought we were here for some fun. Wine, games, silly masks, that sort of thing. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“It was—it is,” he said, quickly correcting himself, while Spite looked smug just out of his periphery. Spite always looked smug when Phyrra was on his side, whether she knew she was or not. “But—”

“But what? But you had a contract?”

He shifted, uncomfortable, while Spite looked at him for his answer, his expression not unlike a clever cat eyeing a cornered mouse. “Think of this one more as a precaution.”

That didn’t convince her. “Lucanis.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It has been dealt with.”

“By yourself?” Phyrra took his arm, squeezing gently. “I could have helped you.”

Yes! Spite grabbed his other arm, his fingers digging in with pressure only Lucanis could feel. Next time, bring Rook. Not him. Rook is better.

Lucanis ignored him. “It wasn’t a simple contract, Phyrra. I needed…specific answers. If you were there…”

Spite sneered. Excuses. Tell her.

“What are you so worried about?” Phyrra asked. “That they would have hurt me? Or that I’d somehow look differently at you, seeing you get your answers?” She let go of him, frowning. “I’m no stranger to interrogation, Lucanis. You don’t have to coddle me.”

Lucanis groaned. “No, it’s not that, it’s—look.” He took her by the arms, facing her directly. “I thought it would take only a moment to deal with, and I thought if you were in the room the target wouldn’t talk. If they attacked on sight and we killed them in defense, we’d get no more clues for a while. It was all meant to take only ten, maybe twenty minutes.”

Phyrra pouted, doubt written plainly on her face, even with the mask. Then a dry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “But it went sideways, didn’t it?”

Lucanis smiled too. “It usually does.” He sighed and pulled her into a hug, resting his chin briefly on her shoulder. “Forgive me, mi amor. I should have told you before we left, but I didn’t want to alert the target that something was amiss. I needed them to think you could be caught unaware.”

“Oh, so I am bait now?”

He winced, starting to draw back. “No, that’s not what I—”

She locked her arms around him, giving him no chance to escape. “I know,” she said lightly with a little sigh. “You’re forgiven. For now. But next time…”

“Next time I will certainly have you with me.”

He sensed her smile, even as she turned her head to rest it on his shoulder, careful not to poke him with the little beak of her mask. “You’d better.”

“You have my word,” he murmured. She relaxed at last, all tension and irritation forgotten.

He closed his eyes, letting himself linger in her embrace. He cherished the warmth of her against him, the press of her supple form against his carefully honed muscle. He wanted nothing more than to whisk her away, back to the Dellamorte estate, and lock the two of them in a room until dawn. These days, his time with her was so precious. He couldn’t afford to waste a single moment.

He wanted to kill that arrogant Crow all over again, just for taking too much of his time.

But you couldn’t kill people twice (usually) and he had promised Phyrra a fun night at a party, so they ought to stay for a little while longer. Besides, people had already seen them in attendance. Even now, he knew their place on this balcony didn’t totally hide them from the eyes that may be watching. There would be plenty of talk about seeing the First Talon in a cozy embrace with Rook, the savior of the world. Talk was inevitable.

Talk was also dangerous. In Antiva, among the Crows especially, his name carried as much weight as the king’s, more so in some people’s view, but the name wouldn’t always protect him. It was the same for Phyrra. The name Rook was on everybody’s lips, but for every person wanting to reward or praise her there was another who wanted to exploit or kill her. There would be no escaping the gossip or plots against them unless they somehow retreated again to the Lighthouse, that dizzying, fragmented space where they had first kindled this romance.

He didn’t want to retreat. Despite it all, he would rather be here, where the sky made sense and the ground was solid and the air was filled with the familiar scents of home—spices and dried herbs, leather and salt, rich dark coffee and refined tobacco smoke. He wanted Treviso to be her home too. That’s what all of this was for. Eliminating the dangers so that one day, perhaps soon, she could settle here.

But was that what she wanted? A life with him would never be quiet or calm. Not in Antiva, not anywhere else. And Minrathous still needed to be rebuilt. As long as any rubble or ruin remained there, it would always call to her like a song, plucking her heartstrings, each note a sigh of guilt and grief. She loved him, he knew that, but she would always have one foot in Minrathous until that guilt was assuaged.

Perhaps he was merely standing in the way of that.

“Phyrra,” he said quietly. “Do you regret this road you have taken with me?”

She shook her head slightly, tightening her hold on him. “Of course not.”

“Even though it means a target on your back?” He pulled away to look at her again, his fingers lightly brushing her cheek. “Whether here or in Minrathous, you know that being with me will only…”

Stop! Spite snapped. He could sense the train of Lucanis’ thoughts, the destination that he was too hesitant to speak aloud. No! Rook is ours!

“I’ve got a target on my back no matter where I am or who I’m with,” she reminded him. She pressed a hand to his chest, right over his heart, searching for his heartbeat beneath the fabric. “Just because we have a new Archon doesn’t mean I’m safe in Minrathous either. But I…we can handle it. And it won’t be for forever.”

Right?

She didn’t say the word, but Lucanis could sense it hovering in the air between them. A silent plea for reassurance, her pride just enough that she would never say it, but her eyes searching his for an answer regardless.

At their side, Spite was staring at him too, an uncharacteristic look of worry on his face. He voiced the question she seemed unwilling to say.

Not forever. Right?

Lucanis released a slow breath. “Of course not.”

The tension in her shoulders relaxed. Carefully, slowly, he untied the strings of her mask, pulling it away from her face and leaving her gazing up steadily at him, her bare expression open and waiting. He leaned in, careful of the edges and points of his mask, and slipped his hand into her rich curls, guiding her into a slow, luxurious kiss. Patient, steadfast, reassuring. A kiss that whispered I’m here. A kiss that promised I’ll stay.

At the back of his mind, Spite settled into something like a low purr, all restlessness forgotten.

“Not forever,” Lucanis breathed against her lips. He drew back to meet her gaze again, cradling her face in his palms. “Nothing in Thedas can keep us apart forever. Neither gods nor tyrants nor the seas between us can do that.”

“Promise?” she whispered.

“I swear it.”

He kissed her again, letting her taste the oath on his tongue.

He knew she would go back to Minrathous soon. She had unfinished business there, just as he had unfinished business with whomever among the Crows wanted to kill her. But for now, for tonight, they were together. And one day they would be together for good.

“Lucanis,” she whispered in between kisses.

“Mm?”

“Dance with me.”

He drew back, a little surprised at first, but Spite’s voice filled his head before he could answer.

YES! Spite appeared behind her, spirit-fire eyes blazing with glee. Dance with Rook! Dance with Rook! He practically bounced on the balls of his feet.

Lucanis allowed himself a dry smile. “Would you like Spite’s answer, or mine?”

Phyrra hummed thoughtfully, playfully. “Both.”

Lucanis chuckled and shifted his hold on her until they were in a proper dance position, his hand on her waist. “Very well. We accept.”

[15-lizards]

Worldbuilding wise do you think the ideal woman and ideal man flickers from kingdom to kingdom? I can’t see the reach and north having the same ideals and I cannot see the Stormlands and vale or westerlands and dorne.

Yeah I mean it’s like every culture, where morals and ideals vary from place to place due to their history and surroundings etc etc. also prepare for a long tangent as I force you to listen to my sociology and psychology training

1. It’s canon that Northerners are rougher and sterner people, due to their way of living and the ever present threat of years long winters. Life is first and foremost about survival, so being frivolous and carefree is more looked down upon. Men and women have roughly the same moral standards placed on them I think. They’re both supposed to be more serious and frugal, though ofc men have expectations of dominance and strength while women are expected to be stern matrons. However the patriarchal ideas of the south are not as strong up north, bc in a place so often barren and hard to survive in, everyone is needed to put in 100% to keep their families alive. Which also leads me to thinking ab more of a collectivist culture in the north

2. Riverlander culture is also very family oriented. They are steeped in traditions of their houses, and old stories that happened centuries ago still resonate with them. Thus an ideal man is a staunchly good man, one who cares for his family and raises his children well. He is practical, he values the advice of his old advisors and he must be a father to his men, especially the ever-suffering peasants. Women are considered the hearth of the home. She is loyal to her husband, father, or brothers, and must give them the sound advice of women (when appropriate, of course). She is gentle voiced and soft, frequently gives out alms to the poor and passes down the traditional tales to her children.

3. Westerland culture is incredibly individualistic. You are fighting for yourself and your house instead of the collective good. So in both genders, ambition is positively regarded, and men and women are often expected to have sharp wits in order to survive cutthroat politics. However the patriarchy is still like. A thing. So women are often confined to the domestic sphere, but powerful ladies are definitely expected to wield their influence within it. Overall just a very harsh vibe to live up to and stern gender divides despite the opulence and decadence of the culture itself.

4. The Reach is very similar to the Westerlands in terms of morals and ideals, but covers them up far better. It still rewards ambition and cunning, but you have to be incredibly graceful throughout. Manners and courtesy are very alive here. Men are told to be valiant, courageous, and outgoing, and are expected to charm their way into what they desire. For women, it’s a standard for them to be lively and sweet, and there’s an unspoken expectation that they be able to navigate the court politics with grace. A far more charismatic version of Westerners, if you will.

5.The culture of The Vale is ruled by stuffy social codes. Tradition, honor, and frivolous rules dictate everything about a persons behavior. The ideal man is gentlemanly and noble, who is even handed and respectful in his behavior. He is friendly, but there is a certain aloofness about him that is not to be breached, as it would be a violation of the social code. The model woman is even more aloof, as too much friendliness tells one of her loose morals. A good woman must be above suspicion, withdrawn and just a little bit cold, but still empathetic and devoted (to the gods, her family, and subjects).

6. Dorne is fairly equitable in how they view their men and women, this is true in canon. Oftentimes one of the harshest places to live in Westeros, I feel like there's little time for divisive gender roles when every person is needed to work and help the collective survive. Both Dornish men and women tend to be sociable and friendly, due to their collectivist culture. An ideal man is considered to be outgoing, someone who treats their subjects and friends in a familiar manner. And they must be a least a little bit hot blooded, being seen as a sign they will defend the land Nymeria fought for. Women are supposed to be equally as friendly, frequently having guests over and creating community. They must be bold too, have a will to live in the lands. However, their customs often are mistaken for promiscuity by the non-dornish.

7. The Iron Islands ideal people probably have more of a stereotypical Norse/Viking mindset. It's not an easy land to live in, and both men and women have to be hardened in order to survive, the weak are left behind. For men, it's all a battle of dominance. If a man wants respect, he has to take it. He must be the strongest, the most violent, the man who can lead others to bloody victory. A lot of crass, stubborn personalities exist in turn. Women, even though looked down upon, still have to be as hardened as their men, despite the lack of respect they receive. A "respectable" woman is stubborn and unshakable, with a temperament that can take whatever is thrown at her. However, she is still jeered and disrespected by the men who call her a good woman.

8. The Crownlands are interesting, because there is no one defining culture, it's a real melting pot. The ideal is whatever is popular during any given time, which is dictated by whatever king sits the throne or noble whispers in his ear. So, men have to be very gregarious, able to get along with everyone, incase whoever they are loyal to suddenly falls from grace, and they must curry favor with someone else. Women are expected to be flirty and coquettish, an accomplished girl who can catch the eye of prominent noblemen that can secure their future. Basically a city of snakes and backstabbers looking for footholds into power.

[professorscrooge]

Sleeping Soldiers AU Draft - circa August '23

Feel amidst continuing to necro-post on this AU, I should probably actually post the draft of my attempt at turning this into a fic, bit more than a year ago. Ran out of steam, as I tend to, and it's a bit rough (also don't know if tumblr has a character limit, but fair warning, this is ~3k). Diverged from where ideas on this ended up going.

References to the original inspiration(s) can be found on posts here and here, and I will emphasise credit @phoenixyfriend, @epicmusic42 and @graylinesspam whose work I have been butting in on (and I think this may rip off some of their wordings). Leans largely into bits and pieces of the Legends timeline, but only through vague references as that's a whole monolith of a thing to try and understand. --

 Coruscant is a city of metal and glass; the planet that once was is buried beneath eons of sharp edges growing out ever further. As the centre of the Galactic Republic, it is demanded to be continuously modern (at least on the surface), with a slick and shining outer coating. Its noises are of technology; the heavy thrum of electricity is the heartbeat of the city, speeders and aircraft fill the air with their droning, and there are an abundance of holoscreens to display the inauguration of the new Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. 

 The Jedi Temple is perhaps the one exception: its tranquillity is unmatched on Coruscant, and its construction is old and solid. All the same, when the silence within the Temple was broken by noise, its nature was unnerving in its irregularity; not the shattering of glass or creaking of metal, not the whine of engines, not an explosion or a turbolaser or any such thing, it is a noise unheard on Coruscant for Millenia.

 It is a grinding, of stone upon stone, echoing up from its very deepest recesses.

–

Circa 500 BBY

 The Jedi Temple is an ancient relic of bygone times; old enough, that the only records that might say how old are held within its own walls (or rather, were, given the unfortunate number of sackings and assaults in its history had frequently damaged the famous archives). Its grand size is a symbol of strength against the dark, but also something of an impracticality in certain times. Its lower reaches are vast, stretching all the way down to the forgotten mountains of Coruscant; a surface where sunlight hasn’t shined in millennia. Construction kept reaching upwards for the longest time, keeping up with the rising levels of the city-planet as its foundations became buried under smog and filth, forgotten.

 In the wake of wars’ end, many lower levels were sealed away; who needed such vast halls, impromptu barracks and storage, when the Jedi no longer served as military leaders? There was no need to house so many people as to require them, and it was more effort to clean and maintain them than necessary for a monk order of a few thousand. After all, this was a Golden Age, with the Sith defeated, and a time of the High Republic.

 Age lent itself to secrets, and with time, many of those secrets were lost with their keepers.

--

 The newly minted Chancellor paused only briefly in taking his oath of office. Most present simply chalked it up to the weight of the vows involved being taken seriously. In truth, the hidden Darth Sidious that lurked under the unassuming garb of Sheev Palpatine had shivered at a tremor in the Force; local and distinctly, searingly Light in its origin, piercing the veil of darkness he and his master had woven over the planet for but a moment. Quickly, he steeled himself and resumed his words; it would not do to falter or drop his mask at this stage. And after all, what could stop The Great Plan now? Sidious had a thousand years of his Order’s planning behind his back. It wasn’t like the Jedi could think on such a grand scale.

–

Circa 1000 BBY

 The history of the Jedi Temple site may as well be a timeline of the Republic itself. With the ever-recurrent war that was fought over its location, and how often Coruscant changed hands, it wasn’t just built upon, but rebuilt, several times. The Grand Ziggurat of the High Republic era was built over the ashes and ruins of the Temple before it, reaching to the sky not far from where the newly built Senate District would form the seat of the Galaxy. A symbol of strength to a unified Galaxy that had defeated the evil of the Sith, once and for all.

--

 The Jedi Council scrambled to action, of course (in as dignified manner as they could). Even with their senses long-blinded by the veil that consistently hampered their sight, there was no missing the stirring beneath their feet. 

 “Awoken, something has,” Master Yoda was heard to declare.

–

Circa 3653 BBY

 The Soldiers’ Hall, as it came to be known, was a real anomaly. It was unearthed in the wake of the Treaty of Coruscant, and the Great Sacking of the Jedi Temple. The respite granted by the armistice with Sith Forces withdrawing from the world was a balm to the Coruscanti people, yes, but the Jedi had returned to a Temple filled with death and desecration. Their holiest relics had been plundered, and the numbers of dead were horrific; a toll only growing as they uncovered the deadly traps spiteful Sith had left behind to further ruin them. It was a painful experience for the survivors, not helped by the lack of justice and repercussions the treaty afforded them.

 With their returned forces in peacetime, however, it was decided to fully survey the Temple to account for all possible traps. The survey unearthed many lower chambers forgotten for centuries, which would soon be repurposed as bunkers for military assets. Naturally, the opportunity was also taken to strengthen ancient foundations with modern materials, which came with looking over the foundations of the ancient Temple grounds atop a mountain of Coruscant, and the Dark Shrine hidden there. It was known to the High Council alone that the old Temple had been built atop a Dark Vergence in the Force in an attempt to cleanse it, and a handful of masters yet survived to share that information to a select few. What surprised them more was the discovery of older ruins beneath the Shrine, built into the mountain itself, and seemingly dating to before the Alsakan conflicts, perhaps even the Jedi Order itself (though few dare voice this thought). The shift from precision, machine-poured duracrete that has been in use for millennia, to the more rough, hand-hewn stone is a sight that excites the archaeologically inclined allowed to see it. 

 Most of the tunnels are collapsed, but slowly, over several years of uneasy peace, a path is unearthed to a large atrium, central beneath the Dark Side Nexus. The discovery is shocking to those who uncover it; they’d gone from archiving very faded murals (amidst admonishment that such pre-Jedi religious teachings are not worth great regard), to cracking the door open to a great chamber filled with an army of statues. A thousand men – clearly soldiers – each expertly carved with incredible detail, each set of armour uniquely battle scarred and hand painted, each posed differently, and every single one perfectly preserved in defiance of their ancient surroundings. The warriors sat, or lay, or kneeled, in great concentric circles, facing inwards to a central figure, the only one not wearing armour; a Togruta woman, dressed simply, and with lightsabers resting at her hips. Where the soldiers were wrought from a pale white stone, she was crafted in warm terracotta in a relaxed pose, face bowed in conference with the Force. It was almost as if she were made of flesh.

 Despite the gathering of Masters who quickly investigated the room, none could quite manage to lay a hand upon her. The sense of foreboding was just too strong. Every gaze in the room was pointed towards her; an even thousand visors of solid stone, focused on this one woman, every one so lifelike as to be uncanny. In-fact, sometimes, in the corner of the Jedi’s eyes, it was almost like they moved; a chest rising and falling with breath, tiny fluctuations in the Force that evaded the senses, or flickers of dreams. Almost as if they were waiting for something.

 The Council ordered the chamber sealed; what markings upon the soldiers that could be identified were Mandalorian in origin, so clearly this was some work of those great adversaries and their common allies, the Sith. That those forces combined had so recently sacked their home likely aided this decision. Knowledge and warnings were recorded within the Council’s private library only, and would be lost some centuries hence by the passing of those who saw the sight and another sacking of the upper Temple.

 Beneath them all, the feared warriors continued to sleep.

--

 The sounds of shattering stone echoed within the long-forgotten chamber, even as dust filled the air from the broken remains. This noise was swiftly drowned out by a thousand throats all drawing breath at once.

–

Circa 5000 BBY

 Recapturing Coruscant was not the final victory of what came to be called the Great Hyperspace Wars, but it was perhaps the most important, given that all that followed became much easier with forces scattering. However, there was an interesting discovery made upon their landing; an empty Shrine, where once the Sacred Spire peak of Mount Satorl had stood.

 The destruction of the Sacred Spire had been one of the opening gambits of the conflict, so this was expected. The Jedi amongst the Republic Forces were most dismayed that the legendary Vergence in the Force that had rested there had been twisted into a Dark nexus, but this too had been rumoured by spies and propaganda. No, what was surprising was the lack of occupants, particularly Sith acolytes. This was a powerful nexus in the Dark Side, and a clear site of investment to build the new Shrine, but there was nobody present; just the signs of conflict that predated Republic arrival to the planet.

 Eventual interrogation of Sith Forces revealed rumours of a ‘curse’ upon the site; no force had managed to occupy the site for long, somehow always turning up dead. Construction of the Shrine had taken several years, and a great many slow attempts, always stymied by poor fortune.

 The Jedi took this as a sign that the Force itself resisted the corruptive attempts for as long as possible, and when granted a boon for their aid in the war, chose to claim the land for themselves. There, they built a new Temple, in the hope that the presence of many Jedi may once again cleanse this place that had long been sacred to a great many religious and Force-sensitive sects throughout the Galaxy. The Jedi Order would build their new headquarters at the heart of the Republic and therefore claim the site instead of any other religion having access.

 Of course, throughout construction, there was plenty of investigation of the ruins being built over (padawans got bored hanging around and waiting, naturally, and the Galaxy’s archaeologists were most invested in seeing how this location had suffered under Sith rule). Of particular note is a surviving chamber of the old Sacred Spire that is unearthed; a grand chamber filled with statues. Sadly, no records from prior to the Sith occupation persist, but a great many experts descend on the room to catalogue what they can of the astoundingly beautiful find that is far more interesting than dusty old clay vessels. The General’s Legion, they are quickly dubbed, given the militaristic bent.

 They bring in first art experts, then body language experts, even a scholar on Mandalorian culture once some symbols are defined. Most of the markings they find mean nothing, however; while Mandalorian symbols are identified a few dozen times, including Jaig Eyes on one of the more prominent soldiers directly facing The General, there’s no real commonality with any clan, or any real consistency. Many more besides are marked with nonsense; a loose word or number in some language, even some unrecognised languages that cause head scratching. The holstered blasters cause them to bring in antique weapons dealers to unsuccessfully identify them, causing yet more headaches at the clear mass-manufacturing on display, since most the soldiers bear the same weapons, but they are entirely unfamiliar. Artists are baffled at how perfectly detailed and well-preserved the figures are; the level of work on display would have taken hundreds of artists thousands of hours, but the style implies a singular sculptor. The historians flail wildly at whether these soldiers throw all the old theories about the Taung originating Mandalorian culture into doubt.

 The only experts who could agree upon something were those who attempted to psychoanalyse the figures; the way the men were arranged was with deference for the General, and those closest to her were the officers with the most decoration and adornment (and battle scars), while those nearest the edge were the lowest ranks. Originally, they thought the much smaller central figure was being threatened by the soldiers, but she sat in such a relaxed pose of confidence it seemed more clearly a commander’s position.

 Still, as time goes on, their observations are recorded and stored in the new Jedi library, and a towering new Temple is built over the ruins. Gradually, this fills with masters, knights and younglings looking forward to a new era of peace and prosperity. The past is not forgotten, but it is not the focus of an Order trying to rebuild after centuries of conflict. And so, the statues sit in their atrium, still and silent. Masters study them for decades, photos and essays are included in the new archives; they are a fascination, a mysterious piece of history.

 But, time passes, and slowly the fascination fades. The wider galaxy captures attention, the Regions are expanding in a new era of colonisation and there is great need for Jedi aid. Only those particularly intrigued by art and archaeology look through the old archives. The statues become more of a ghost story.

 Padawans sometimes gossip about them over latemeal. They dare each other to sneak down to the lower levels, and walk between the rows upon rows of sleeping soldiers. The truly brave (or reckless) of the classes make the journey, past the point where the air lifts reach, down long staircases and through the dusty thick air. Lightsabers raised high over their heads, they tiptoe between the first few rows, twisting wildly at jumping shadows cast over the room. Some stare petrified into the visors of the men, convinced that if you peer close enough, you can see eyes peering back at you. 

 Very, very few brave padawans make it all the way to The General – one or two per generation – but those that do, swear they hear her breathing.

 Over the years, those children grow into knights, into masters and grandmasters, and then they pass into the Force. Still, the tradition survives, for a time, until one day, when the new Temple has become old and known many Councils, the chamber passes from memory, and is lost for many centuries to come.

 But still, the soldiers look to their General for orders.

--

 The first breath is the hardest.

 Going out, the air feels abrasive and dust-filled, and her throat is drier than a desert. Then, she must try and breath in, and it’s an effort to fill lungs that have sat still for so very, very long. She coughs once, and then struggles through it, going through the motions a few times as she slowly registers her montrals ringing from the similar sounds about her.

 Finally, she looks up, eyes open and awake.

 “Orders, sir?” Rex asks.

 “Form up.”

–

Circa ??? BBY

 The Mountains were a safe place. A sacred place, to many. So when war came to Coruscant, it was to the mountains people fled.

The One-Thousand-And-One, a group of warriors who spoke no language anyone understood, but under whose strength, Coruscant stood against Alsakan [– Tion instead?]. They could never leave the Mountain, though.

—

And that’s all I managed to write out, couldn’t quite figure a) what I wanted their arrival period to be like/what they did there, and b) how I wanted the present-time to work out (likely marching on the Senate building and demanding Sidious’ surrender). Ended up with some Jedi-negative things in there that I'm not entirely sure where they came from (probably something emerging from my frustrations with Christianisation on mythology). May have been a bit uncharitable.

Much as I kinda like the framing of current day swapping back and forth with older and older eras, I don't think I'm coming back to this version - I think I prefer the more recent ideas related to the chamber's unveiling in more modern eras, and drama resulting therefrom.

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

"You don't know my name, do you? Will you ever?"

Summery: beomgyu keeps his promises--he walks you from and sometimes to work, hangs out there with you. its all very comfortable and usual for the both of you. he even orders the same thing every time he comes in: your wonderful hot chocolate you make him. noting is new, its all been done before a thousand times between the two of you. why? you and Beomgyu have been friends for ever. that's great. You and him have also become a sort of... intertwined. more than just being together; youve grown together. also great. but what happens when you do something out of the ordinary? or rather, maybe the two of you stop keeping your promises and let the feelings youve pushed down so hard you feel like youre about to combust bubble up? also great.

a/n: long hair gyuuuuuu based on 'you don’t know my name'!!!!! its one of my favorite (if not my singular favorite) song by her. and besides... come on y'all, its beomgyu so I had to lol. yerin and I talked about this during he 300 subs special (even though SHE doesn't seem to remember it lmao) so here I am holding up my end of the deal and making my fic based on this song. if you liked it please leave some love such as commenting and or reblogging!

warnings/info: slow burn I guess, kissing, reader and Beomgyu go to a party, mentions of people fucking, Beomgyu gets in an extremely heated argument with a complete stranger at said party, I feel like I ranted a bit too much with the fic, a little poem-ish at times I think, reader and gyu are scared to go into uncharted territory with thier friendship, lots and lots and lots of talk of reader and beomgyu needing to control themselves around each other, cursing, beomgyu being sweet and them slow dancing cause that's a warning in itself, one joke about beomgyu and reader fucking? idk its not said explicitly tho this was way too self indulgent I apologize, friends to lovers, reader is gn.

~this is simply a piece of fiction. my imagination onto "paper." this is in now way meant to be taken as an actual or real representation of anyone~

••••••••••••••••••••••

A sharp, wind chime sounding ping makes you spring out of your thoughts to look at the door. Your smile. Huh right on the dot. Your eyes are met with the handsome fetures of your most frequent customer: beomgyu. Hair touching the nape of his neck and eyes bright as ever despite the mugginess outside. though its not all bad-- it makes him remember how one time last winter on your usual walk-from-your-work-with-him, he had stood behind you and wrapped you in his coat, bringing you flush with his clothed chest. it was oversized on him and noting, he thinks, could have prepared him for how you melted into him.

you noticed his wandering eyes and raise you voice to snap him out of it.

“why do you look like that?” you ask. it’s slow at work right now and you say that because you don’t want him to notice your heart pounding. You know if you don’t distract him he’ll do so. He pays enough attention and knows you all too well to hide it. “oh I dunno I just went for a run. No! It’s because it’s raining buckets out there!” “Yeah YOU running? That didn’t sound right” his mouth hangs open a little "um excuse you." he puffs his chest out. "I-I run." the way he's shaking his head while speaking gives him away if you already didn't know him so well. maybe a little too well. but, you tried not to think about that too much. how you

“I’ll have the hot chocolate” he says, although you know what would fall out of his lips just the Same as last time, and the time before that. And many roles before. You know how he likes it (extra sweet. “Just like you” he says. Before you squeeze you nose) but seriously you don’t think you’ve ever known someone who liked such a sugary thing. It nearly tasting like straight candy

“not many people order hot chocolate in the summer. You sure you want that?” “Yeah, it’s a comforting drink ya know.” Something he always used to drink as a kid. Before he met you. Before he didn’t have to watch what he said around someone like you because of half giddy and half eyes to the floor bashfulness he’ll feel if he slips up and gets a little too flirty. Says something a little too strong to you. Not that you’d mind. No, not at all. But he doesn’t need to know you feel that way.

"Yeah but with everything?" you ask, still making it but wondering anyways. He leans further in, putting his hands on the table. "How come you're just asking me this now? we've been doing this for such a long time and now is when it pops into your mind that it's weird to have it with breakfast, lunch, and dinner?" you roll your eyes at him. but really, you weren't annoyed at all. the truth was you awaited the never-the-same times he'd come in and order that same, warm and comforting drink. (it depend on his classes, and or what he had to do inbetween) It had gotten on the point where one of the other workers there would tap your shoulder and let you know that he was there when you didn't notice.

"your guy is here." one of the workers there would tell you. In a moment of weakness, beomgyu would pop into your mind and your eyes would go wide as you looked for him. "he's not my guy." you'd try and cover your tracks but with the knowing smile on your work friends face as they walked away, you knew it wasn't any use.

"we've been doing this forever." his words rung in your ears. he was right. you had been. you'd both been seeing each other so much and resisting the bubbling urge to kiss the shit out of each other. You'd been inching dangerously close to him, but never as close as you really wanted and craved, the warmth of his heart ghosting your skin... forever. he'd been avoiding your gaze-- the one that made him feel like all the four seasons were swirling up inside him and somehow all their wonder landing in you, seeping out in all the little things you did... forever. To be honestly, neither of you knew how long you could keep this up.

but here you are, thinking of and loving noting more than seeing his eyes fill with excitement as you hand him the mug. he cups it with both his hands even though it isn't cold inside so it wasn't like he needed to warm his hands. "You know, you should just keep your own mug here." you comment. he looks up at you, about to take a sip and obviously not very happy you interrupted his almost-bliss. though, in his mind, it wasn't that different-- no, it could not compare to the feeling he got around you. "Or maybe I should just bring one with me." he jokes, lips pursing to blow the steam off the surface of the delicious smelling drink. "Yeah," you nod, "and bring a plate while you're at it-- you know what," you lean on the counter in front of him, knuckles going under your chin and fingertips folded enough to touch the beginning of your palm. And he'd rather not look at you through the fog emanating from the porcelain mug so he puts it down, leaning in for dramatic effect. "Better yet, take it with you when you leave so I don't have to wash it!" you eyes go wide and you throw your hands up like you just had the best idea of the century-- better than sliced bread.

he puts a hand to his chest, leans back with his mouth hung wide open, and then gets up with his hands to his head pulling at his hair like he just had an epiphany. you laugh freely as he walks around in a circle. once he's back at the counter he slams his hands down on the edge of it and looks all serious. "You've got it, y/n! this is gonna make history!" he exclaims. You take a bow just for kicks and when you come back up his expression has suddenly changed. its gone much... softer, a smile is tugging at his lips and he can't help it but to let it free once he sees your smiling face again... smiling because of him, too. because of the joy you two make together. its unmatched, really. His fingertips feel flushed like his face, and aren't holding on so tightly to the cold metal edge of the counter. he's leaning in now, for what reason he doesn't really know. damn, he wants and fucking needs to be closer to you. he feels it in his core.

Then, he makes the mistake of looking into your eyes and in an instant you send him on a whirlwind. usually he distracts himself and looks at something else but he just couldn't bring himself to this time. He wants to set up an easel and capture your entire expression right here but your eyes... your eyes he's sure made his plan he's trying to stick to of not getting caught in your gaze. or, better yet, not getting caught gazing at you. but, for someone he knows so well and for so long, it wasn't easy. because, every time you speak, every time he looks at you, every time he even thinks of you, his mind starts to cloud with all the goodness he sees inside you. every inch of your mind he knows and all the other filled up spaced he wants to adventure into.

How could he stop his mind from getting tied up in the wonder of a human that was you? He sure couldn't, and nobody in their right mind would be able to. He snaps himself out of his thinking before you can think to do it yourself. Lord knows if you caught him spacing out at a time like this you'd give him one of your infamous smacks on the ears and he'd shriek so loud out of surprise people outside would hear him. "You're making me waste valuable time on drinking this." he chuckled, holding a finger up to you to signal: one minute, as he takes a few big gulps. he puts the cup down and leans back.

"one of your best, y/n." he complements.

you raise an eyebrow. "Oh? so there's a hierarchy and competition for best of y/ns hot chocolate now? if I would've known I would've made it look all cute." you said, getting back to work behind the counter. the place was pretty dead at the moment but there was still a few things needing tone done. "Come to think of it, I should deduct points for not putting a cinnamon heart on the surface." he wonders aloud. "Oh so just a heart would suffice? noting else?" you ask him. "well why not?" he nearly giggles, "Thought you loved me." You simply smile and roll your eyes at him, not really having the opurtunity to have any type of conversation like that here. although you wanted to. and it didn't really have to go the way you intended it. but if he-- or the both of you for that matter, were gonna go there, then you might as well and a full on sit down talk about it. again not that you didn't want to at all-- in fact, you'd thought about how it'd go down plenty more times then truly necessary. And what better place to have it in than where you two had met?

maybe it was just you making excuses for yourself; for putting it off just one more day. one more week. one more month. or basically one more eternity of longing stares and cut of sentences where, you wanna say more but ultimately fail to. the conversation now seemingly over, he shrugs and finishes his drink.

He stays and orders another extra extra sweet, practically caffeinated, slap you in the face to jolt you into operating at top speed crack drink that was his or your signature hot chocolate. this is a habit of his-- one he'd likely have to break soon if this floating feeling of his keeps up and un-in check. but a habit the both of you cherish-- where he comes in and stays until you have to leave. most of the time you don't even get to talk much. but the comfort that comes right along with your presence around each other makes up for it. thats another habit with the two of you: just being in the same room and doing different things. it was pure comfort just being around each other. maybe looking over and smiling at the other or striking up a conversation that could last a minute or the rest of time he was there or in other situations, the rest of time you'd were together-- however long you both wanted it, really. and it was never awkward, either. the silence never aching.

that's how it was when you first started walking back to your respective places after your shift. another habit of his, one you hope, along with the others, would never die. him staying for a while, talking a bit... or a lot with you, then walking together. usually it was him walking you home but others it'd just be whatever you two wanted that day. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his acid washed jeans when you look over at him.

"Did you grow or something?" you question.

"maybe you shrunk, hm?" he countered.

you narrowed your eyes at him. he turns to you and does the same. "Very adult of you." You scoff. "You started--" then, realizing that continuing to say was he was going to wasn't going to help his case in the slightest. It barely falls silent for a second before he, in a moment of either weakness or some extreme courage he doesnt know, he slows down a little, gently puts his hands onto your waist, finger finding place scrunched in your shirt, and stills you. though, with the rapid beating of your heart you didn't need any help to do so. He gently moves you to the inside of the sidewalk. he doesn't know why. it's kinda stupid really. he doesn't even have a reason expect that's how you two are usually walking. but it isn't ever really intentional. Usually he just gets out the door of the diner first and you follow soon after. but he liked it that way. it felt warm and comfortable.

he clears his throat. "So, you were saying?" you look back up at him, not too stunned to speak or anything just....thinking. time still in its frozen capsule like it was a moment ago with his hands on your waist. "I feel like you've grown." you say simply, verbally shrugging. he takes a look at his own arms as if that would give him an idea as to what you're talking about. "I know you haven't but," you sigh, unsure of where you're even going with this, "I dunno you seem different." the both of you are still facing forward, not having looked at each other since a minute ago. "Is that a good thing or a bed thing?" You smile. "good. definitely good." "that's good that it's good." he laughs.

"oh piss off!" You chuckle at him, shaking you head. a second later you don't hear his steps anymore and turn around to see him saying "gladly." and start to walk in the other direction. You yell at him to get his ass back here and he turns on his heel, trotting back to you with a smile on his face, eyes hidden by his hair as he looks down. "But yeah," you say once he's back to walking beside you, "You've defiantly grown. not in height, but how you are as a person now." he hums. "I guess I can see that. you have too, you know?" you quirk and eyebrow.

"like--" he takes a breath, "You've grown... not like you act completely different now, but you've just--" you get what he's trying to say. "Blossomed?" He nods, but before he can start talking again you're already opening your mouth. "So have you. Not like you weren't someone I wanted to spend a lot of time with when were first met but you've grown into this person who-who has so much depth to them. like sure, you look a little different and youve changed your hair countless times, but I think you've bloomed in a way. And I love that you have; that you've made yourself out to be who you are right now." he purses his lips together.

"hey, it's not all me, ya know? Ive only been able to grow the way you said I have because I've got you by my side. actually, no, more than that, I've got you coaching me and trying to help. And have you taken a look In the mirror? its not just me that's grown internally since we've both met. I feel like... You're more you know than you were before. or at least not as afraid to show who you are." "that's cause I have you cheering me on, beom." he smiles at the nickname, something you've had for him forever. just like how you've been learning each other inside and out forever. But he also smiles at himself. he was your personal hype man, as you'd say, wasn't he? "And im really proud of you for flourishing like you have." he says. "Im proud of us." you counter, "for both becoming more than we were before."

all that was missing was two glasses to toast. "Yeah, and we're achieving that together, too. we have been forever. and I know that's why its unfolding so beautifully-- it takes the two of us to pull something so great off like that." you try not to get all fluttery inside by the prospect of him thinking that you're "great." cause there isn't much to it, really. plain and simple. he thinks you're great... or the journey youve taken with him so far is great or whatever... it should stop there for you. but that's the thing: with him, it never does.

It kinda hits the both of you right in the face at that moment. and you realize all you need to know about how the other person feels the same way when your caught looking at each other and saying more or less the same thing of: "wow, I think our lives are intwined now and I love that."

as the minutes go on, you both talk about some of the ways youve seen this with each other-- growing internally as youve both said. You bring up something, then him, it goes on like this until you both have a realization. "...But seriously, though." you cause, "Im glad that we're like this." "Im happy we can be like this too. and to be honest, I don't just want to be a better person, I wanna be a better person with you." he quickly cocks his head to the side, almost like he was punctuating his sentence. "I was just about to say that! I like growing with you. it's amazing. and you make me want to be better. not in a competitive way though. I just wanna move along with life with you next to me."

He puts a hand to his chest, hopping it would distract him from how fast his heart was beating. It had the opposite affect, though, drawing his attention to it under his palm. "Im glad youve been in my life for so long." he says, wondering jut how far he was going to take all this confessing how wonderful it was to have you by his side. wouldn't this make more of an impact on he both of you than just making you smile? or was he making it more than it was? he probably was to be honest; friends tell each other how much they value each other all the time. just... probably the ones who's heart feels like its about to lift him up and fly him away to the moon, stay away from it.

"And I am glad we're in each others lives to often that we can brighten each others days whenever the other needs it." he nods in agreement, not trusting himself to talk more because he'll surely say all that he thinks of you... and us. the rest of the walk is spent back in the comfortable, fireplace like silence like the first couple minutes of it. Once you get to your front door and your back is turned, he draws in a breath. "It is wonderful to have you in my life, y/n. I don't think you can understand how great it is and how much I love it." you're about to swing open your door but you turn around to look in the eye. "Me too. I love how it feels to have you by my side." you really wish you had something more to say but it seems like its enough for him. cause a second later and he's nearly skipping away from your door. You shake you head at him and go inside.

He scratches the back of his neck, thinking entirely too much about what you had said to him. There was a thousand ways you could have meant hit but for some reason he only wanted to think of it as one. the one where you actually secretly wanted to kiss him every time you hugged goodbye. One where you'd invite him into your place for hot chocolate and he'd stay, and long, long while; only really going back to his home for clothes cause fuck, if he had you like that he wouldn't dream of letting you go or leaving you for as long as he could.

God, It was almost uncanny how, you knew what to call him, but his name? that was something else entirely it felt like now.HIs own name had come to be you. that was how much you were written on his heart; written like law on stone. so engraved in his mind that he felt like you were with him all his life... except with this it was more like someone who knew him his entire life but suddenly stoped paying attention for a very important mile marker, then suddenly started up paying attention again, completely glossing over something that was so important to him. Like his name: but now youve replaced it with your own an the wasn't mad about it. and you didn't know, did you? would you ever know his name?

and, in the middle of all his swirling like a hurricane that brought peace instead of distruction, he wondered if you were ever feeling the same thing. did you think of him the way he thought of you?

He knew everything about you, as did you, he, you thought as you slipped off your shoes at the door. But you figured that, since friends need to be honest as much as they can, that wasn't entirely true. cute there was this one, not so small thing youve never shared with him. something that was such a big part of you it might as well be your name. The way you felt when he was near, when you thought of him, fuck, even when someone mentioned him. at this point, him-- and feeling this was about him was such a bug thing that it had become a part of you. he had become a part of you. and just like a name it was something you wanted and needed to tell the whole world. including him.

but there was the problem, you couldn't just scream it out for everyone to hear. that's why youve been waiting. Even though it was takin g a long time for him to figure out that big giant part of you that thad become as second nature as a name. Beomgyu was smart, but apparently he was stupid when it came to this. but seriously, with all the slip ups youve been having recently, you're starting to wonder if he's deliberately not understanding you and your feelings. Like is he that dense or does he just not want you?

You shoot him a message none the less; telling him to text when he got home unless you'll start to worry.

===

The next time you talk was on the phone on your way to work. He likes to walk you there, too. but today just happened to be one of those days where it couldn't happen. But you missed his presence on the street that reminded you of the talk you had yesterday so the next best thing was to call him. "Hey, it's the server from the diner." You say. "yeah, I know." It was a throwback to when he'd given his number to the place so he could get a free delivery. Though he was hoping you'd pick up on it and call him. and you did. you were the one who had to call to let him know his order had arrived and was currently getting cold outside his door. you had ended the call with him apologizing profusely.

One thing lead to another and you made a follow up call on how the food tasted. you heard him smiling from the other end of the phone as he says, "great as always." You barely thought he would even pick up so you didn't know what to say after that. "especially the hot chocolate." he aded then. And now you're the one smiling uncontrollably. After a few minutes on the phone that day your heart is leaping with excitement. so the next time he comes in, you talk with each other more freely. and now you had his number so when he doesn't come in for a few days you remembered mustering up the courage to text him. "I really wanted to come over there. hot chocolate would probably help cure whatever I have." you felt stupid. duh of course he was just sick, why were you so worried?

within the hour, hot chocolate was delivered to his door free of cost.

and that's when the friendship began; with him texting you an entire paragraph just to say thanks for the gesture and you two talking back and forth, heart seemingly on the edge of its seat, about hot chocolate and hot drinks in general.

"You know... our manager is always telling us to use water," you repeat now what you said all that time ago, "But I always use milk and cream for you." He's snapped back to the present, with you on the other end of the phone, wind whipping in the mic. "aww you really do care, don't cha?" he laughs, smug smile gracing his lips.he can practically hear you roll your eyes from the other end of the phone. "your welcome." you drawled. "I sincerely thank you for your sacrifice of cream and milk." he said, and it sounds like a joke, but still he's smiling in gratitude none the less. youre about to joke about how he needs to repay you... somehow. but he beats you to it. though... with the way he starts off, it doesn't sound like fully a joke. but just enough of one where he knows you'll listen.

"And as a formal expression of my forever debt to you, I invite you to attend a party with me." You figured you'd play along, his tone not serious enough for you to spend the brain power to actually think of an answer. "yeah, sure, Beom." It was about as real to you as the both of you staying completely quiet during a movie so you played along. at least, you thought you were playing. beomgyu puts his speaker of his phone up to his mouth, nearly making your ears bleed as he yells into it: "no take backs!" then promptly hangs up.

you roll your eyes at him, a little concerned for future you and him but cracking up none the less. The surprised expression on your face when he comes by later to quote "take the both of you shopping for the party the next day." was so priceless he wished he had whipped out his phone quick enough. "I keep my promises." he reminds you as he sits down at his usual bar stool. And he sure does, like the one he's been keeping, weighing on his heart for so long he feels like its going to crack it n a million pieces impossible to pick up, about just how much he feels for you. he made that promise to you to stick by you as friends for as long as you'd have him there long enough to be forgotten. but now him. he remembers it like it was yesterday and he intends to keep his word, especially to you. who knows which way it would take you if he didn't. and the last thing he needs is for you two to be torn apart.

he slumps on the counter and gives you puppy dog eyes. you sigh "No one told me you were serious. that was coercion; I did not understand the phrasing of the question, therefore--" oh, you wanted court of law? he'd give you court of law. "uh uh" he wriggles his finger in your face. "was this under a false pretense? maybe. but did that initially give you the right to call back and or ask further questions? yes. so for that reason youre guilty!" he slams an imaginary gavel down on the white counter. you turn around to take a breath. he kicks his feat. "come on, y/n! I think it'll be fun. and if not then we'll leave right away and go to my place to watch tv. and we'll get a cute outfit out of it either way!" you think about it for a moment. "I need deodorant anyways!"

well it is important not to have a stench.....

he can tell youre thinking about it and he perks up at the sight of your wheels turning behind your eyes. it was one of this favorite things-- watching you think, weigh your options and all. It wasn't like you completely didn't want to go. there was a part of you, one that was soon going to get bigger youre sure. but a part of you right now none the less. so what was stopping you? you wanted to be close to him. you loved being close to him and that meant doing things together. but in an environment like this.... it might pose a problem to lips kept tightly shut and secrets you held behind your back.

You take one last look at him, and if it's a regular response between friends or in a slip up you don't know, but you agree. he nearly jumps up out of his seat in celebration. Why did he suggest this? who knows. was this a good idea? who. the fuck. knows. maybe because he wanted to do something with you. but it was probably something more than that it the back of his mind that made him call you and ask. but he knows full well what almost happened the last time you two went to a party together. a bunch of "aww youre so cute together!" made it seem all a little too real after a while and as the night went on with him eventually stopping himself from telling the truth to these people and him getting seemingly eaten from the inside when he stopped just reviling in the fantasy and remembered that no, youre not together. The night ended somehow with you two coming dangerously close to kissing.

maybe he really just wanted to spend time with you; a sort of do-over. he could control himself this time. or maybe that's what it was... he wanted to test the waters again-- challenge himself and see if he really could have self control. or maybe, just maybe, in the back of his mind he wanted to test the waters another way. maybe he wanted to know if it'd happen again. of course he wouldn't do anything about it; he wanted to keep his promise to you but something felt like it was knocking at the back of his mind.

once your shift is done, he's got a spring in his step as he opens the door for the both of you and bouncing on his heels with a smile on his face telling you to hurry up. and no, you don't just go shopping for deodorant... but instead spend two full hours shopping around. two full hours that consisted of trying on clothes and the both of you having to bite your tongues. because fucking hell, why'd he have to have such a good style? you perk up as he steps out the dressing room for the third time, already preparing yourself for you heart seemingly about to beat out of your chest. "what do you think?" "I think..." his face sinks.... "oh--" he pouts, "no no! it looks great! its just, its white."

he quirks and eyebrow at you. "I have eyes, ya know? I did pick it out." he reminds you, nose and mouth scrunching up in that classic Beomgyu disgusted face. "spillage." you simply say. his eyebrows got up into his hairline. "youre right." the next out fit he comes out with, a little more spillage proof, is what he decides on. he takes another look in the mirror, sighing. "you really think it looks good?" he questions. "I have eyes, ya know?" you echo him. he spins around into the dressing room, away from you as quickly as possible so you didn't have to see the smile on his face and the rosy tint to his cheeks.

When it comes to you and picking out your outfits, while youre walking ahead of him to the dressing rooms, he closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall so he can think for a moment. or... more stop himself form thinking so much than anything. he knows what he's getting himself into. but How you reacted each time he'd first appear out the dressing rooms door with that wistful glassy look in your eyes, almost like you yourself were trying to stop your gears turning.... Times like that gave him hope that maybe yeah, you felt the same way about him as he did you. because just for a short moment he saw the same look in his eyes that they had on him now; trying so hard to stop thinking about you. you, you, you, you.

"I think a round of applause is in order!" you say.-- twenty minutes in. twenty minutes of him bouncing his leg. twenty minutes of you hiding the way his complements make you feel. twenty minutes of the second you shut the door behind you him screaming internally into his palms and twenty minutes of you doing the same. he smiles at you when you come out. "I know. we have good taste." his cheeks seem to be nearly kissing at his lashes as he smiles and he's driving you crazy. "We do, don't we?" you take another look in the mirror.

"You really think it's--" Youre starting to stress over if the outfit really is worth the buy. you like it a lot. but now youre starting to wonder if its a little too little here or too much there and-- "I have eyes, don't I?" he repeats, you turn around and lock eyes with him for just a second too long not to do anything to the both of your heart rates.

===

fast forward to the next night and youre swinging your door open to see him turned the other way. he spins around as soon as he hears the door. You press your lips together and he unconsciously mimics you. "you look really beautiful!" he beams. he's just being your personal hype man as always, and youre not afraid to say that you love it. "Aw you look really beautiful too."

the words slipped past both of your lips like water through fingers. though, unlike water, the words were thick, with feelings long left in the dark hiding behind them. "Oh? so just beautiful? not really--" You step out toward him, closing the door behind you, making you step just a little bit too close to him than usual. "really really beautiful." you clarified. and this time, he doesn't move his head. "thank you." he whispers, voice softer than his hair. and the both of you are unable to move from your doorstep-- frozen in time and space, with the only thing moving being your rapid heart beats and rising chests.

====

he looks at you beside him and can feel your gears turning inside your head, a sight he so badly wants to get lost in but knows he can't. realizing it'd be bad enough with the gorgeous outfit you were wearing and how he was sure at least someone was going to try and hit on you... he'd rather not start getting himself tangled with you now. but he can't seem to move his neck any other way than craned to his left to look at you.

its was just.... as much as he wants an needs to kiss you so badly.... your so Important to him, he thinks as he lags behind a bit, watching you walk ahead. and your friendship is so important to him that they never want to break it, even if that meant shutting his mouth and staying further away, cause in the end that's really what he wanted: to be and stay friends with you. the reason he stayed never has been and never will be just about what he felt for you. your friendship will always be the most important thing to him and heeds never want to jeopardize that and loose you. he'd rather your friendship stay strong than anything.

Your turn around, beckoning him to come closer. he skips to you, so happy you don't know what to do with yourself. "You know--" "no, I don't. I was hoping you'd tell me." you scoff. "I was going to say that im glad you invited me. Im ready to go be extroverts together now and experience all the bad smells and all the loud noises a party has to offer." he laughs, but he knows youre half serious. and he's fully serious when he says he's happy you came.

====

the noise thumps in your ears, nearing making them ring. the lights are dimmer than you thought needed but it-- along with noise and people constantly bumping into each other, sufficed in making the atmosphere very party-like. cause well, it was a party after all. He follows you, both trying to scout out where the kitchen was. you'd planned to stick together, tighter than you did last time, tighter than when the both of you were bombarded with people asking you about each other, and stick together you did.

even when you two went upstairs, trying to find the bathroom, and stumbled upon a couple people fucking and practically biting each others faces off in the room you thought was the bathroom. Beomgyu shuts the door immediately, any longer and you'd both be traumatized. "get your own room!" you hear from behind the heavy door." He looks at you and you back at him before bursting into laughter. "I mean, did you want to orrrr?" you phrase it as a joke, and though he thinks he hears something in the back of your tone, he only rolls his eyes at you. though his brows go up higher than youve ever seen.

The second he's done in the bathroom you lead in downstairs to where the music was the loudest. "I heard it too." he pants, "I was trying to hurry up." you really couldn't believe they were playing this here. it was almost too perfect, you thought. with his body so close to yours, dancing and enjoying the song you both liked. And suddenly, it didn't feel like you were in a crowded room. and for a moment all you could see, and feel, and smell, was him. him and his fingers now reaching for yours, spinning you around, laughing without a care in the world. like it didnt matter that your heart was about to beat out of your chest, making you float on the floor you were dancing on.

Everyone else-- the entire room was blurred. It was just you, and him. him, and you. just as it should be. this didn't happen all the time-- rather, you didn't let it happen all the time. but when it did... you swore youve never felt anything so natural. so--so right and beautiful. You smile and ease him into a dip, now youre both laughing. when he comes up, somehow both his hands ended up in yours and now he's pulled flush against your body. he feels like you both are taking up so much and too little space at the same time--like the whole floor is yours and yours only. he swallows thickly, neither of you making a move to step away. you know it sounds stupid but for a second you can feel as life your hearts are beating as one. and for a seance he feels like maybe this is really real. that it won't end any second and that he isn't having another day dream about slow dancing with you in one of your living rooms; all comfy and--

"I have to go get some water." you say so low that only he hears over the music. you really shouldnt let it goony further than this. at least not here. and as much as you wanted to keep ignoring everyone around you cause with him, were they even there in the first place? you knew you shouldn't, couldn't keep it up for much longer cause being this close to him only made you wanna kiss the shit out of him. "y-youre not--" you look at the next to no gap between you still, hands still closes around each others tightly. you blink to free yourself from the perfect daze youre caught in. the song was barely even slow enough to slow dance to. what you you doing? "moving? I know." and before he could even ask if you to stay longer, youre already pushing yourself off his chest and out of his grasp.

"You sure you don't want me to just go with you?" he nearly stumbles after you. "beom, its just for a second." You whip around to face him, arms crossed defensibly. "but a lot can happen in a second." yeah, I can see that, you say to yourself, thinking about just a moment before where dancing to a song you both liked turned quickly into something that was going to make you stumble. beom, the name echoed in his mind over and over until it flowed into his heart where all the other times youve laughed or called him by that nickname laid. "listen I know youre just trying to uphold our agreement, but seriously, im fine."

he knows he's probably being too worried for you, but he just can't. epically after you'd done that. with your hands clasping his against his chest. god, he never wanted it to end. little did he know neither did you. you did actually need water, being so close to him like that had a track record of making your throat go dry and fingers go numb. it also had a track record of making you get lost in his glazed over eyes. you find a cup and rinse in out before anything cause who knew where its been. a moment later youre about to refill your cup when you hear the unmistakable sound of Beomgyus shriek. followed by someone yelling at him.

oh god what did he get himself into now?

You run to where you last saw him and, finding him not there you rush to where you saw a few people gathered by the stairs. those people who were now making way for beomgyu flying down them. someone hot with anger and hot on his tale. Your brows furrowed as he zooms past you. "im sorry!" you hear him say, "I probably shouldn't have gotten involved but it looked like a pretty heated argument!" oh god? that was what this was about? "Yah!" the person yells behind him. "that's why you shouldve stayed out of it!" then and Beomgyu are both on opposite ends of the sofa, both waiting for the other to make a move. when the person inches right, beomgyu tips to the left. when beomgyu goes the other way, the person follows his movements.

two of the three people move off the sofa to get out the way. god, he really was fucked, wasn't he? you didn't know what to do, really. you left for five minutes and here he was getting screamed profanities at by some random person. You wanted to help, but as beomgyu brings up to the person how the person they were talking with looked hurt, and how they themself looked hurt as well, you leaned against the door frame and just watched.

it was another one of these situations, huh? they didn't look mad enough to really do much of a number on him anyways, and youd step in to stop them any minute now if beomgyu doesn't leave the argument first. And step in a minute later after beomgyu and the person going back and forth tore you apart from the inside out to one, see him so worried like this, and two, hearing them yell next to you with the loud ass music was starting to make your ears bleed you didn't need to do after all. Beomgyu was backing up with his hands in front of him defensively. it didn't feel like you needed to collect him or keep him out of trouble or anything cause he was intentionally trying to start a fight, but you could tell no one was going to get anywhere with this. or at least beomgyu wasn't going to get what he was looking for from the person. So you figured it best to tell it that you two should leave. you grab him by the shoulders and lead him out the door. you were kinda done with the party anyways, having been there quite enough time already.

"im sorry! I ruined our night, didn't I?" he begs. "but they were saying some pretty shitty things about someone and it looked like it was about to turn physical." he practically pleads with you as the night air nips at whatever wasn't covered on you. you stay silent the whole way back to you place. "What have I told you?" you tell more than ask sternly once he's plopped down on his sofa. he hands his head low. "Not to get in the middle of other peoples problems..." he echoes what you say every time something like this happens-- he thinks he can be be everyones knight In shinning armor, protecter and helper to all by getting himself involved. it usually doesn't have such... strong repercussions. most of the time its when he hers whispers of someone talking about their troubles with someone else and he tries to console them. which is fine on its own, but then comes the part where he's getting all caught up in it and he's getting hurt along with them.

and as much as you are shaking your head and rolling your eyes at the situation he got himself into... you purse your lips and try not to catch his eyes from across the sofa. you lean back. "But im not surprised. And it's not because you never learn or that youre stupid or anything, ok? so don't even go there. but that's just who you are, how youve always been since I met you-- caring so much for people, even people you don't know that you'll end up like this trying to help them sometimes. that's one of the things about you that haven't changed one bit since I've met you." he inches closer as if you hear you better, legs folded criss cross on the cushions and hands on his knees.

"don't make me out to be such a hero." he shakes his head. and this time you move a little closer. "Not saying you are just," you pause, knowing what you want to say but wondering if this really was the right time for it. It felt right in your bones and besides when were you going to get another chance like this one? when just a bit ago his hands fit perfectly in yours and you could feel his raging heartbeat under your palms? It was now or never, right? but really, you werent too sure you'd be able to stop yourself now. you might've been in too deep, but with him, never over your head. "just, youre the kindest person ive ever met. n' I just worry you'll get hurt more than youve already gotten in the past-- like youve gotten in the past when you get invested like this."

youre breathing all heavy for some reason, and he's getting that same glassy look in his eyes as earlier in the night. it reminds you of a sugar honey glaze on sweet fruit or a dessert and you can't help but stare int them. "glad to see you care." he shrugs. only his lips move thankfully just in your field of vision, eyes staying locked on yours. "I thought you knew I did. he's unconsciously leaning forward to you, his body following the magnetic pull that was you. though he's only following what seemed natural. "Thought you knew that I did?" you put your face in your palm, elbow balanced on your knee. "Yeah, but..." he trails off, the both of you now impossibly close.

and closer, and closer, and closer until your lips join in a searing kiss. you both sigh in relief into it, having waited so, so long. now your heart was really beating out of your chest, your fingertips no longer numb but boiling with feeling. his hands go from his knees to your hands, grasping them firmly, but gently just like you did to him at the party. he felt like he was floating, like he was suddenly sitting on a cloud and wasn't afraid of falling. god, he's wanted this for so long; for fucking ever. how could he stop now? you pull apart, and now youre thinking how in the world you felt out this long. ".... now the way I want you to." he continues, "not the way I do." you smile, leaning in again to kiss him. it was meant to be a quick peck, but instead it turned into you leaning your body into his and his hands on your arms, running up and down them, making you sink further into him and the seat in warmth.

Now, for a second time, you pull away. "Does that help answering how much I care?" he's smiling like a mad man at your words. "so I guess I didn't ruin our night?" he says, more to get his Brian working properly more than anything. "The opposite. I wanted to leave with you anyways." and now he's nearly jumping out of his seat to to do a little happy dance. he couldnt help it, though. especially when you were pulling him back in by his shirt balls dup in your fist and smashing your lips together.

when you pull apart though, instead of smiling in each others faces, the both of you shoot up. oh god... oh god! what did you just do? it wasn't suppose to go like this, he thinks as you rush to put your shoes on at the door. No words were exchanged between the two of you, though. except: "Hey... I--" "no no!" you say a little too loudly, "no, its fine. we don't ever need to speak of this again, sound good?" his lips form a line at your words. he shoots you a thumbs up. "...yeah." it wasn't what he wanted, that's of for user. but what other choice did he have? didn't look like you were ready for it to happen, so my default, now he wasn't either.

it wasn't like you two avoided each other at all costs in the week after the incident. no, not at all. you were friends above anything and everything, and such close friends that being like that to each other would've killed the both of you. and it wasnt like you were mad at each other... but now the silence on your walks together felt.... uncomfortable; unnatural and weird. like you needed to fill it with pointless talking to distract you from how there was this... air in the midst of you two-- like you knew what the other wanted, craved and needed but were too scared to do something about it.

that's why he knew he had to do something about it. so here he was, barging into the diner you worked past closing time. You quickly run to the door to unlock it for him. not like you were doing anything better anyways, watching the raindrops slide down one of the many windows as you wiped down each table. he was later than he usually was, but it looked like he was here for more than just to pick you up. the look in his eyes said it all. You turn around as soon as you pull the door open for him. "we're closed, Beom." the nickname slipped off your tongue so easily it was like you had forgotten the incident the week before, and how you promised yourself you'd back away even more than you had to keep it from happening again.

it wasn't like you didnt want it to. god was it the opposite. it was just... new, and scary. you knew that wasn't the best excuse but it was all you had. he was, in a way all you had. You didn't really know what moving along that road would mean. you knew it'd be good. but again, it was new and scary.

"I can't loose you." he pants behind you. for once he it was raining and for once he did run here. he spreads his arms wide, his long hair dripping on his shoulders. "And I can't-- I can't believe we let this come between us. and I don't want to let the wedge be driven any further." when you still don't respond, back still turned he gets more desperate, running a worried hand through his hair. "Come on, y/n! we're best friends!" you slam your towel down on the counter. "yeah, well maybe that's why this should've never fuckin happened." your words make the room go silent. you didn't yell it, you didnt exclaim it, you basically whispered it, but it boomed like a bomb going off none the less.

he was too important-- your relationship, whatever it may be, was too important to let go; you knew that. he knew that. he didnt say a word, realizing that he might say something to make the situation worse. he knew he was staying after hours, then again, it reminded him of how it would be between the two of you a week ago when you'd still talk the same. he'd come in, you'd make him the best hot chocolate he'd ever tasted next to his moms, and then he'd sit at the same bar stool and you'd talk for hours, barely making a move to actually go home. but eventually, after helping you with cleaning, he'd walk you home.

but for watts its worth, neither of you wanted to go back to those times, even after everything quite liking how the experience of the incident felt. You invite him to go to your place to talk it out some more. having the same idea, he agrees readily.

"I haven't been completely honest with you." you say, youve been talking for a little over a hour now, somehow slipping into how it was about a week ago along the way back to your place, and you don't think youve felt something so good-- so reliving, in a very long time. "I haven't been telling the whole truth either." no other words are uttered between the two of you, opting to lean ever so frustratingly and tantalizingly slow into each other,. his hand coming to rest on your thigh, folded underneath you at the knee on his sofa. you place your hand on top of his has your lips connect, a long awaited satisfied sigh is breathed into each others face, the air tickling you. youre rubbing circles on the back of his hand as his mind races. it was a kiss you poured all your feelings into. one where you spilled into it how you needed him with you so so so bad. how you wanted him beside you even more than he already was. how you were sorry it took you so long, and how you couldn't wait to keep being beside each other. you could feel him pour all that and more into his side of it and you reviled in the feeling, settling into it like it was second nature.

you blink a couple times when you pull apart, glad that you took your talk someplace else now. and well, I guess the both of you know now. youve now pulled out of the dark that beautiful little thing you two were hiding.

Now you both know just that one more, not so little thing you needed-- what was on each of your hearts the most.

~end~

Can’t believe never written a solely beomgyu fic before anyways as I’ve said if you liked it please comment and or reblog since tumble works on that system and liking it only bookmarks it for you :) I hope you enjoyed!!!

©️2023copyrightofshutupheathersorryheatherr do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works even if you give me credit

taglist: @itz-yerin

[queenthiax]

Gilly's Letters

Just a tidbit I wanted to get out of my brain, Gilly Cinderheart you have all of my heart <3 Even though I like to break it doing things like this.

- Dear Mama,

I made it to the adventurer’s guild! I would have written earlier, but getting all of the paperwork done and settled into my quarters ended up taking longer than I expected and the next thing I knew we were getting schedules and orders.

Everything around here happens so quickly it makes my head spin. I think Papa would like the hustle and bustle of the routine though. He always complains about how bored he is at home. 

They’re telling me that training starts tomorrow though. I thought getting accepted into the Guild meant that they had already assigned me to a seasoned adventurer, but it seems that there is some basic training they like everyone to go through before that. And something about the choices being made ‘after the heroes get to see our grit’ with their own eyes.

I’m taking everything in stride though! I’ll make sure to show everyone here what I’ve got and make sure the support everyone at home has given me will be worth it!

All of my love,

Gilly-pad

–

Dearest Mama,

Thank you for the care package, knowing that a taste of home will be waiting for me after each day of training is the best motivation to get through the day.

Training is… hard. I knew it would be, but it's so eye opening the difference in expectations here for monster hunting and adventuring is to the little threats that I handled for everyone at home. Really gives a lot of scale to how important the work is!

We haven’t had any adventurer’s looking for apprentices coming in yet, but my teachers all say they’re really impressed with my skills! Especially my ‘special skill’. It’s been really amusing to spar with others who take my size for granted and get to show them how sturdy us halflings can be!

Doing everything to keep you proud, give Papa my love.

Your Gilly-pad

–

MAMA!!!!

I GOT CHOSEN!! I’M OFFICIALLY AN APPRENTICE TO A GREAT ADVENTURER!!

MAMA YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHO IT IS!! 

THE GREAT SIR HORACE TREATY!!!

HE CAME AND WATCHED US AND PICKED ME OUT OF EVERYONE!!!

I’M SO HAPPY I COULD MELT!!

YOUR OFFICIAL ADVENTURER APPRENTICE DAUGHTER!!

LOVE LOVE LOVE FROM YOUR GILLY-PAD

–

My lovely Mama,

Life on the road has been so hectic, I apologize for the sporadic letters. I didn’t realize how unreliable sending through different post offices could be. Don’t worry too much about trying to keep track of me, sending them to the Adventurer’s Guild will make sure I get them eventually!

But it’s officially been a month! I’ve already been on so many adventures and helped slay so many monsters. It’s been a wonder to watch Sir Horace and his frequent companions work.

Sir Horace treats me well! We’re still getting to know each other so I do fear sometimes he keeps up his ‘hero’ act up with me, but I know I’m wearing him down!

Can’t write long since I have so many tasks to keep up with! But do know I’m having the time of my life! Tell Papa to not get jealous of my adventures!

Your monster slaying girl,

Gilly-pad

–

Mama,

I know the letters don’t come often enough, I’m so sorry about that. Sir Horace is taking my training seriously though and keeping me plenty busy!

Not only am I learning about actual adventuring and monster slaying, but he is doing the work to make sure I stay… humble. It’s important to not look down on all of the small tasks that keep you moving every day!

And I am never bored! Even when we’re not working Sir Horace keeps my mind sharp with his tales of his years of experience!

One day I want to show you all the places I’ve seen… I think you’d like some of them. But not as much as I love home, I hope to visit you soon.

All my love,

Gilly-pad

–

Mamsies,

I was just speaking with Sir Horace and he has given me leave once we get back to the city to come back home and visit for a while! He won’t have need of my services for a bit and I do crave your cooking.

We have an engagement - the fabled feast of glory - on the 25th of this month, but afterwards I’ll make my way back to you all! And I’ll be able to tell you of all the heroes I meet at the party!

Missing you and Papa always,

Gilly-pad

–

As darkness starts to take her - her body worn and bruised - the bravado of her last ‘fuck you’ leaves Gilly’s heart… one final thought… “I wish I could have read your letters Mama… I hope you’ve gotten mine… I’m sorry I couldn’t make good on my promise to visit one last time….”

[cuddlepilefics]

Cramping pain

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Chan

Caregivers: Jisung

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Chan released a shaky breath, slipping his hand under his shirt to rest it on his stomach. The organ had felt off for the last two hours and running his fingers over it, Chan had to realize just how bloated he had gotten. He had been alone at the studio all morning, editing some songs him and the kids had recorded recently. It was a good thing they were done recording because his stomach was so noisy, he wouldn’t have stood a chance recording his lines without the microphone picking up the angry gurgles. Bringing his hand up to his face, he muffled a belch against his knuckles and winced at the sour taste. Chan wasn’t sure whether the indigestion came from his irregular eating patterns or if the delivery food he had ordered because he didn’t want to interrupt his work had been the problem but the stomach ache was slowly starting to interfere with his productivity. Feeling his stomach churn was distracting and the occasional cramp twisting his insides were intense enough to let his mind go blank for a few seconds at a time, so he frequently forgot what he had intended to do moments before.

Accepting that he wouldn’t get anything done like this, Chan pushed his chair back and took a few deep breaths. Maybe he just had to move around a little to help his digestion, so he carefully got up and walked down the hallway. Chan had to take it pretty slow though, starting to feel a little queasy as every step rocked his already upset stomach. Just when he made it to the end of the hallway, his stomach cramped up a sharp pain shooting through his entire abdomen. For a second, Chan couldn’t breathe, bracing himself against the wall before dropping into a crouch. He forced himself to at least take small, shallow breaths to ride the wave of pain but his vision was going a little blurry around the edges. Biting his lip, Chan squeezed his eyes shut and drew a shaky breath once the cramp let up. No, moving was most definitely not doing the trick. His legs felt weak and putty-like as he dragged himself back to his studio. He didn’t want anyone to find him curled up somewhere in the hallway, so he really needed to make it back to the safety of his studio before the next cramp would hit.

Chan weakly plopped back into his seat and pulled his legs up to his chest, trying to relax. He knew it’d only hurt more the more he tensed up, yet it was incredibly hard not to be tense when it already hurt this badly. Carefully palming his sore middle, he contemplated his options. He doubted he’d get anything done at the moment, the pain making it impossible to focus. Jisung had always been prone to stress stomachaches and Chan knew the younger loved hot water bottles in those situations. How many times he had brought his dongsaeng tea and a hot water bottle over the years….

Packing up his belongings at a snail’s pace, afraid to trigger a cramp by moving too fast, Chan already made up his mind. He could do his editing at the dorm anyway, so why not curl up with a hot water bottle and continue editing from the comfort of his bed. With slouched shoulders he shuffled to their managers’ office, informing them that he wouldn’t be at the company building that afternoon because he wasn’t feeling well but promised he’d keep working and get everything done in time. His stomach gave a wet gurgle about halfway through his explanation as if to prove a point. Nobody doubted that Chan would try his best to keep working from home, so they were quick to get him a ride back to the dorm and told him to feel better and to give them a call if he wasn’t doing any better by the next day. As he waited for his ride, he quickly let the other members know that he wouldn’t be at the studio, so they wouldn’t be confused if they stopped by.

The drive back to his dorm seemed endless to Chan, every turn in the road threatening to set his stomach off. His rising nausea made him break into a sweat and by the time he climbed out of the car with trembling legs, his damp shirt stuck to his back, making him shudder when he got hit by a gust of wind. Goosebumps pricked his skin as he made his way up to the dorm, struggling to unlock the door due to his hands shaking. Another cramp hit him and Chan bent over, hugging himself as he struggled to breathe through it. He had really wanted this hot water bottle and maybe also some tea to sip on but kicking off his shoes already took so much effort, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to turn on the kettle and wait for the water to boil. Knowing he should really go and set up his laptop in his room, so he could get back to work, Chan leant against the wall for a moment to collect himself. His mouth watered and he startled himself with a sudden gag, clamping his hands over his mouth in a panic.

Chan had abandoned his laptop bay the front door as he made a run for the bathroom, crashing to his knees in front of the toilet. For a second, he thought it might have been a false alarm before his stomach lurched and he got violently sick. Sweat trickling down his back, Chan gripped the toilet seat to steady himself, his knuckles turning white as he pitched forward again. He had ordered delivery before, so why did it have to go so wrong today? Catching a short break, Chan took off his shirt the hot flashes and sweat unbearable. He used the damp fabric to wipe the sweat off his forehead and dab away the tears that dotted his lashes, barely managing to throw the shirt in the general direction of the laundry basket before burying his head back into the bowl with a guttural retch. It didn’t take long for his throat to feel shredded, his head pounding from the strain as it spun with dizziness. Not finding the energy to be disgusted, Chan crossed his trembling arms over the bowl and rested his forehead on them. He didn’t even bother to lift his head as more sick spilled from his lips.

Jisung only saw the leader’s text two hours after he sent it, the rapper busy with his own schedule. Chan hadn’t given an explanation as to why he headed home, something he never did. He liked working at the company building because of the people he met and interacted with there. It helped fuel his inspiration, so him randomly going back to the dorm to continue working there was unheard of. Growing concerned, Jisung shot the oldest a text and waited for quite a while but never got a reply, so he made his way to their managers’ office. He hoped Chan might have told them what was going one.

When Jisung learned his hyung had gone home due to a stomach ache, he asked for permission to go and check on the older because he couldn’t get a hold of him. They were hesitant because Chan could handle himself and might just be sleeping but seeing that Jisung only had a couple of verses to write and rehearse, which he could easily do at the dorm too should Chan be fine, they sent him home. Jisung had almost completely convinced himself that he was overreacting until he opened the door to their dorm and the Aussie’s laptop was the first thing he spotted. There was no way Chan would leave it there.  Nervously picking it up, the rapper carried it to Chan’s bedroom, where he hoped the older would be. The room was empty and Jisung placed the laptop on his hyung’s desk before going to search the dorm.

He didn’t need to search for long because his nose picked up the smell of vomit as he walked down the hallway, so he quietly approached the bathroom and knocked. Getting no reply, Jisung tried the handle and worriedly slipped into the small space. He winced at the uncomfortable position Chan was in, draped over the toilet. Lightly resting his hand on the leader’s bare back, Jisung called his hyung’s name but only got a sleepy groan in reply. He promised to be right back and rushed to get the older some water. “Hyung?”, he tried again, rubbing the other’s back, “Can you lift your head for me?” Sniffling softly, Chan complied and made eye contact with his dongsaeng. The younger grimaced at the glossy look in Chan’s eyes and tore off some toilet paper. Wiping the leader’s lips and chin, Jisung hummed: “How long have you been sick, hyung?” Chan only shrugged, ready to put his head back down but the younger stopped him. “That’s disgusting, don’t do that”, the rapper scolded, helping him sit back against the tub instead.

Once Jisung had flushed the toilet, he picked up the glass and whispered: “You should have some water, hm? Come on, just a few little sips.” Chan accepted the water with trembling hands, shakily lifting the glass to his chapped lips. When he placed it down next to him, he rasped: “Think something about lunch was off. Got really bad cramps shortly after I ate.” – “Hm, I’m not sure”, Jisung muttered, combing the leader’s sweat-damp curls back with his fingers, so he could feel his forehead, “You might be running a fever. Your eyes certainly look like it.” Chan sighed at the confirmation. It’d at least explain why he was sweating so much.  He shuddered. Not that the hot flashes had subsided, he regretted taking off his shirt.

“Should we get you to your room, so you can lay down?”, Jisung asked softly, “You left your laptop by the door by the way. I placed it on your desk.” – “Oh”, Chan mumbled, “I actually need to get back to editing.” He painfully cleared his throat, admitting: “Just wanted to get settled in bed with a hot water bottle and some tea, so I could continue working but then I felt really sick as I got here and must’ve fallen asleep. Promised I’d keep working though.” – “And you can keep working”, Jisung sighed, knowing he had to tread carefully, “Just not now. If it’s really just lunch not agreeing with you, you’ll feel better once you’ve rested a little. I’ll get you a hot water bottle and make some tea. You can take a nap and if you wake up feeling better afterwards, you can finish editing then, yeah?” Chan wanted to argue but another shiver ran down his back and he agreed, if only to put on a hoodie and get that hot water bottle his dongsaeng baited him with.

Chan got to his feet, only to immediately double over in pain as he was hit with another cramp. Jisung’s hands grabbed his shoulders he felt himself being eased down onto the closed toilet lid. Gritting his teeth, the Aussie hugged his painful middle and held his breath. “Hyung, breathe”, Jisung frowned, rubbing his back, “Going all stiff will only make it worse. Come on, nice and slow.” Forcing in a shaky breath, Chan wiped his eyes with a trembling hand. Maybe he should really just lay down for a bit. He had forgotten just how badly the pain-spikes got.

With Jisung’s help, Chan slowly shuffled to his room and changed into a comfortable outfit, while the younger went to the kitchen to turn on the kettle. By the time Jisung returned carrying a steaming cup of tea and a hot water bottle, the oldest had already curled up in bed. Placing the cup onto the nightstand, the rapper handed Chan the hot water bottle and smiled when his hyung immediately hugged it to his middle. Jisung also pulled the trashcan up to the bed and hummed: “Is there anything else you might need, hyung?” Yawning, the older shook his head and thanked him. “Alright, I’ll be in my room, writing a few more verses. Here’s your phone. If you need anything, just text because I might be wearing headphones”, Chan nodded, curling up just a little tighter as Jisung drew the blinds and left him to take his nap.

[bellabellaball]

made 4 me pt 2

prologue

Warning ⚠️

Feminization , mpreg

Explaining the rules and adding backstory before the next part.

Baekhyun woke up dazed in an unfamiliar bed. He remembered it was his birthday and he had been out with friends. The last thing he recalled was a sharp pain—something violent attacking his neck. He touched his neck; it was bare, with no scars or marks, just smooth skin.

“Oh!” Jongdae said, looking at Baekhyun with a smile as he sat down next to him. “You’re awake.” He air-quoted “the talk” before continuing, “Suho-hyung was supposed to give you the talk, but since he’s out, I’ll have to do it.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widened, his face a mixture of confusion and shock. “Wait, who are you? Why am I here?” Jongdae moved a little further away, opting to keep his distance from the confused newcomer. “Please don’t be loud. Our lord is trying to rest,” he said, pointing towards a coffin in the corner of the room.

Feeling a wave of nausea, Baekhyun looked around the room, taking in the antique decor. It was clear these people had money, but the coffin was unsettling. Maybe Baekhyun had been taken in by a wealthy couple, but the coffin was strange.

“Okay, tell me what’s going on,” Baekhyun demanded. “Why can’t I remember anything? Are you going to kill me?” Jongdae shook his head, reaching out for Baekhyun’s hand to avoid disturbing Chanyeol any further.

“So I’m dead?” Baekhyun asked, sipping the tea he’d been given to calm his nerves.

“Undead, more or less. But yes,” Jongdae replied, reaching for his own cup of tea. “I know the whole concept of vampires seems like folklore, but—”

“No!” Baekhyun interrupted, his eyes wide. “I’ve seen Twilight like a million times. I just can’t believe you’re Asian.”

Jongdae looked surprised. He was aware of the integration of vampires into human society, but it was fascinating to see someone be so open about it so quickly. When Jongdae had been turned, he’d felt sick for days. Oh, how times had changed.

“Well, that’s amazing,” Jongdae said with a smile. “Now, please wait for Suho to come back so he can explain the rules. If you don’t mind, I need to feed my children.” He got up quickly, feeling a bit awkward around Baekhyun.

“Hey,” Baekhyun called as Jongdae started to walk away. “If you’d like, I could help. I’m great with kids.” He offered a soft smile, sensing the tension in the room, and reached out to take Jongdae’s hand. Thinking for a moment Chen takes baekhyuns hand. “I’d like that you can tell me what this Twilight is.”

Laughing, Jongdae allowed himself to be guided toward the nursery. “Oh, it’s only the best romance of our time.”

Suho was many things: a good husband, a good father, and a fabulous cook. However, one thing he was not was spontaneous. He disliked change and preferred order. He once saw a modern therapist who explained that this tendency was related to something called OCD. While it was relieving to finally understand why he behaved the way he did, he still often felt a sense of shame.

His life was perfect—three mates who were kind, two babies who meant the world to him, and a beautiful house that he had meticulously designed and decorated. Suho cherished order above all else. So, it was quite a shock for him when he saw a strange fledgling holding his son.

“Hyung, stop!” Xiumin yelled as the older vampire pinned Baekhyun to the ground. His youngest, Kai, ran to Xiumin, clutching his leg. “Papa, stop! Mr. Baekhyun just wanted to pway,” the baby said.

“Honey, he just woke up and was waiting for you,” Chen explained. “I apologize if he startled you.”

Suho brushed himself off and stood up, pulling the small boy up with him. “I apologize. You’re probably waiting for me to explain the rules. Please come to the study. Don’t touch anything—my nose isn’t familiar with your scent.”

The study was well-kept but showed signs of frequent use, with small corners of dirt that hinted at its regular occupancy. While it might not have been concerning to most, it drove Suho to distraction.

“Okay, so I don’t want to spend a lot of time here,” Suho admitted. “These conditions are less than ideal, but I really need a quiet place to speak, so let’s cut to the chase.”

“You’re a vampire.”

“Did Chen tell you that?” Baekhyun shook his head, feeling an immediate sense of intimidation.

“Good. Our master is Chanyeol—he is both our sire and husband. We currently have two children, courtesy of Jongdae. I’m sure you’re familiar with the male pregnancy community.” Baekhyun nodded. “We’ve had more children in the past, but they’ve passed away over the centuries.”

Suho glanced at a portrait of himself and Chanyeol, holding a smiling brown-haired boy. “This is my baby, Yixing. May he rest in peace.” He sighed, wiping away a tear. “One downside of being a vampire is the sickness that surrounds us". "we can survive the hashes of plagues but our kin and friends around us can't say the same".

Wiping his tears “That’s a matter for another day,” Suho said.

“You belong solely to Chanyeol. While we share a husband and a home, we are not lovers,” Suho continued. “Chanyeol is our lord, and we’re extremely grateful to him. He is the only one who can fully activate your powers.”

Suho’s expression turned serious. “At the moment, he is out of commission, and we don’t know when he’ll recover. Until then, you must remain untouched until Chanyeol can address your situation.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows shot up in confusion. “So, I just met you all not even three hours ago, and you’re saying I have to join your... strange harem? Are you kidding me?”

Suho, clearly annoyed and eager to be done with the conversation, could already tell this would be a challenging case. Fortunately, he had experience dealing with difficult individuals. “Listen here,” he said sharply, “Chanyeol has given you the opportunity of a lifetime, so don’t take that for granted. But if you’re not interested, fine—go ahead. The vampire hunters will have you killed within a week.”

“Now, if you’re done interrupting, I’ll explain,” Suho said, his tone brooking no argument. “I’m in charge for now. You’ll need to keep everything clean and help with the children. I will run this house as if Chanyeol never left, because it’s only a matter of time before he returns to us.”

“You will remain untouched, as I said, and that includes us and even yourself. If you need a device to help you with this, I can provide one. It’s extremely important that you save yourself for your sire after your transition; it’s like a rebirth.”

Baekhyun listened in stunned silence, his mind racing to process everything Suho had said. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, and he struggled to comprehend how his life changed so drastically within the hours.

Left alone in the study Baekhyun admired the portrait of Yixing the fallen child. He was the spitting image of Suho with beautiful dimples.

Talking to the image "This is so crazy".

@ursoulmateuniverse-blog

[redthesizeshifter]

The Contract - Chapter 1

So here is my first ever completed Size Story! I posted this one on reddit before but I think its better if I concentrate my stories somewhere that I know will be a good archive for them. This story contains a lot of teasing, flirting, emotional interactions, and slightly drama. Still not fully delving into the size aspect of things but will be getting there in Chapter 2.

Without further audeu, lets begin out story! Enjoy!

Eliot stared into the woman´s eyes. Both of them are in a sort of stalemate. He tried to intimidate her into telling her the truth, but it didn’t work. She had tried to make sense of why this person in front of her was not the one she met last night and tried to find out with no success. Now both of them were waiting for the other´s move. Two minds playing figurative chess as they planned their next move. Eliot then opened his mouth to speak again.

“What. `Thing? ´ And what happened last night?”

…

Eliot had gotten to the spot early; he looked around and saw that there was already a group of people gathered outside the restaurant that was hosting the event. The cold air of the night made him shiver slightly as he looked at his wristwatch.

8:49 pm.

He sighed. He´ll have to wait 11 minutes for the event, he shifted a bit uncomfortably in his spot, looking at the people that were gathered in front of the place with a paradoxical mix of anxiety and longing for a conversation. He took his phone out and scrolled through his social media. This was a blind date event, gathering frequent clients from the restaurant and putting them up with each other. He would be paired up with different people and talk to them about their interests, life, and dislikes, and see if he had chemistry with someone. The people who came out as couples would have a dinner paid for them with unlimited drinks. He had seen the group chat invite on his social media as a small ad. His best friend made him get in the group chat (threatening him with a couple of whacks of his folders) and came along to see if he could find someone.

“How do you expect to get with someone if you’re just working and mopping all day? Come on, it’s a great opportunity for you to get back in the reigns. Maybe open up to someone again”

Ever since he broke up with his ex, he had been incredibly lonely. His OCD got worse, way worse. Everything in his apartment was carefully ordered and cataloged down to the underwear he would wear each day. Order gave him comfort, it’s what he knew and loved. Order, control, and keeping things simple. Thinking about her ex only brought disorder and chaos to his life, and strong feelings too. He needed to keep them in check. Or he might risk something he hasn’t done in a while and promise himself never to do it again.

The people outside the restaurant suddenly began to slowly walk inside the place and the talking in the street started to dwindle to a murmur. He took a deep breath and started to walk inside with his suitcase in his right hand. He closed his eyes for a moment trying to envision his core rules for tonight.

Rule #1: Don’t get your feelings attached.

Rule #2: Invite her to your apartment or go to hers.

Rule #3: Take what you need to survive the night.

Rule #4 (Most important): Keep your size in check.

Size shifters like him couldn’t afford to be seen changing size given that if they were, they could be captured, experimented on, burnt at the stake, used, etc. He wanted to have a casual affair but without the other person seeing him shift. Which shouldn’t be a problem for him. Just a couple weeks ago he had brought a girl over for the night to his apartment and they had some fun together. He didn’t feel himself shrinking or even being close to shifting. It satisfied his and her needs and that was it, they both went their separate ways, period.

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain on his forehead as he collided with the back of someone else´s. They both yelped out in pain and rubbed the affected area.

“Ow! Hey, am sorry about that, I got distracted… Are you okay?” Eliot had said as he rubbed the front of his head, his hand covering his eyes for a second before he pulled it away to see the person in front of him.

“Ah… N-No worries, it happens to all of us” A velvety but delicate voice replied.

The air around him started to have a soft hint of fresh perfume, his nose immediately taking note of the pleasant scent, citrus. As he looked at her, he saw in front of him a tall woman with short brown hair and beautiful big light brown eyes. She had a small nose, full lips, and noticeable freckles that stood out from the cold. Tomboy-ish in nature, the woman looked at him and offered a small apologetic smile. Eliot couldn’t help but blush slightly at her beauty, something fluttered inside his chest. A familiar yet distant feeling that he couldn’t pinpoint. He then took notice of the thick winter coat she had and the even thicker scarf she had around her neck, two big furry gloves covering her hands. Eliot couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at her warm appearance. She furrowed her brow and pouted slightly.

“What? It’s really cold, okay? I hate the cold…”

Eliot found her pouting extremely cute and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit loud unintentionally.

“Ah, I hate the cold too. My ears and nose get so red my friend calls me Rudolph every time we get some ramen” Eliot had passingly, remembering what his best friend told him every time they went out.

The woman blinked for a second at him and then snorted loudly as she chuckled while shaking her head.

“That’s so dumb, but I can see it”

Eliot covered his nose instinctively out of embarrassment as he heard the woman laugh loudly as she winked at him.

“Got you, see you inside Rudolph” she teased as she walked away down the street

Eliot stood there dumbfounded for a second as he processed what had just happened.

“Am not… Rudolph” he huffed as he headed inside still looking at her as she walked.

…

The event organizers began sitting them all down in two rows, along with a glass of wine in each spot, ‘to ease the nerves’ they had said. When they were all seated the event began shortly after with a sweet little tune on the speaker of the restaurant. The first person that Eliot met shifted a bit in their seat uncomfortably. At first, Eliot didn’t mind it but after a bit of silence, he decided to speak up.

“Hello, do you like sports?” He inquired to break the tension a little bit.

There was a small hint of deodorant in the air, cheap hairspray and cat. Eliot heard the rustle of a jacket in front of him as the silhouette repositioned herself in the seat after the question. Woman, probably in her 30s or close to it, owns a cat and is usually pretty messy, which explains the hairspray which either she bought in a hurry or can’t get a better one. Eliot was a person who analyzed people. He always saw the details and micro expressions in people. He needed to be as sharp as ever to detect whether a client was lying or there was an irregularity in someone according to how they dressed or looked. For example, if a client says that they had gone to Mexico to enjoy the outdoors and the beach, but the client can't tell you what foods they tried, doesn´t look tan, and doesn’t have a bit of a distracted mind then either they stayed at their hotel all the time or didn’t go in the first place. There are a lot of factors to take into consideration but usually, he goes with his gut with this kind of thing.

“I-I don’t know much about sports, so no… Sorry.” a shy voice replied.

“Oh, that’s alright, do you have any other interests?”

“Uhm. I do like to read.”

“Oh really? What books catch your attention?” he inquired towards the silhouette

At that point Eliot had suddenly lost interest in this person, when people on the stand got nervous around him, he would love to dig into them and piece away their arguments. There were no arguments to dissect here, he was just asking questions to ask them. No interest in them.

“I do like reading coming books a lot! My favorite one is Watchmen! I think it’s such a great view of superheroes in current society and-”

Eliot was out… again. His mind began to wander around the place and to try and discern the different shapes of people around him as his vision adjusted to the darkness. The organizers would come and go through a curtain at the end of a hall so the light would pour inside the room occasionally, making it hard for the eyes to adapt in the darkness so Eliot couldn’t make out the people around him.

He turned back to the woman in front of him and nodded in agreement to something she said, he didn't know what. It was going to be a long night.

…

“Hey there!”, “I just came here 'cause am bored”, and “I saw that one of the organizers was making out with their partner in the darkest corner over there”, were all conversation starters that he heard so far. All of these people bored him, he didn’t feel any chemistry or any attraction to their personality. He distracted himself with other thoughts and did the same thing to every person that he got bored of, asked them about something they were passionate about and just let them talk until the timer ran out. He didn’t mind them talking about what they liked, and they got their fill of someone “listening” to them. It was a win-win in his book.

Suddenly the sweet tone sounded off through the speaker and the row of people in front of Eliot shifted to the seat to their right. Eliot said goodbye to the person who was in front of him and greeted the next.

Suddenly, a familiar odor crept onto his nose. Citrus. Flashes of a hurting forehead and a bit of excitement sparked through his mind. Where had he smelt this before? A velvety familiar voice came from the silhouette in front of him. Woman, 30s, tall. His heart fluttered slightly. He stood a tad bit straighter as he recognized the woman who was now sitting in front of him.

“Heya! I saw this place had a blind date thingy so I decided to come in and see what’s up”

“Really? Welcome in”

“Wait… Rudolph?” the voice inquired with an excited tone

“A-Am not Rudolph!” Eliot stuttered in his words as she chuckled once again, a blush started to form on his nose again as if his body knew how to mock him.

Eliot heard a light chuckle from the other side of the table, and he couldn’t help but smile a bit. He finally had something to look forward to.

Here went nothing.

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you like, what is it that you’re passionate about?”

“Hey, not to be rude, but I heard you ask that question over and over to the people before me, so I want to ask that question to you. What do YOU like? Any special interests?”

Eliot froze. She was asking him? Why? Was he interesting enough for her to ask her that? His heart skipped a beat as he felt his chest swell. Wait, no. It couldn’t be. He isn’t that interesting. Probably she was just asking to be polite.

“Hey! I'm supposed to be the one asking that. But if you insist. I am going to sound nerdy here but… I love the Lord of the Rings books and the movies too. I love the writing and development that went into creating such an expansive world”

“And? What about the expansive world?”

“Wait, you don’t want to tell me about you?” Eliot asked, a bit confused as he wondered why she didn’t start talking about her likes.

“Well, it seemed like you had more to say but stopped yourself, so I want you to keep talking about it. I also want to test how much you really know, for all I know you could be a poser” She teased as he felt her crossing his legs under the table in amusement.

There was a bit of silence on Eliot´s part as he stared in disbelief at her comment. “Excuse me? You think you know more than I do with Lord of the Rings lore?”

That had hit a nerve for him. He had time and time again proven to his friends and family that he was the superior loremaster of Lord of the Rings content and this mere peasant wanted to fight. Oh, she was going to get it. There was a hearty laugh on the other side that seemed like her accepting the challenge. Her velvety voice went slightly deeper, teasing him with a low but soft bet.

“I bet 20 bucks I know more than you about LOTR”

He couldn’t refuse the challenge, he estimated around 7 more minutes on the clock, and they had time.

“Bet. Questions made by one must be answered by the other, the first to not know the correct answer once, loses.”

A slight shift in the chair under the woman could be heard, Eliot assumed from the movement of the chair and the slight bump on the table that she had leaned forward. Game on.

“You´re on, aut” She temped him, calling him fool in elvish.

Eliot´s blood boiled slightly but chuckled, this was… new. An unusual turn of events that he was more than willing to play out. Up until now, this person has been challenging him every step of the way, keeping it interesting, digging into him without any fear of him getting angry or annoyed. It was a kind of sweet banter.

“Fine, I´ll go first. We´ll start easy, who created the first ever dragon?”

“PFFT! Easy, Morgoth. My turn, where does pipeweed originate from?”

“Common misconception is that it originated from the Shire since the hobbits smoked it a lot BUT its origins come from the island of Númenor”

He heard a small huff come from the other side of the table as if she was appreciating the fully correct answer.

“Very good, I usually catch fakes when I ask that question. Alright, ask me…”

…

They went back and forth, adding more information to their answers and justifying them with their information. Eliot found this incredibly refreshing and to be completely honest, a tad bit hot, in a nerdy way. How many women around the world knew this much about the franchise that he adores and even shares the same passion for, whilst bantering back and forth with him? Not a lot. He felt a sense of belonging while talking with her, something he had longed for a while now. He knew their time was running short and after a couple of swings from the wine they both settled on one last question for the other. Eliot pondered for a few seconds and got his question ready for her.

“Alright, for all the marbles, what color of wings were Glaurung, The First Drake´s?” he said, his words slurring slightly on the name of the great drake.

Silence.

“Hm? No answer?” He teased from the other side of the table bumping his knee against hers teasingly, a low chuckle seeping from his mouth, trying to taste his victory. Suddenly, after that, she snapped her fingers.

“AHA! NICE TRY! GLAURUNG HAD NO WINGS BECAUSE HE WASN’T A WINGED CREATURE! EVEN IF HE WAS THE FATHER OF ALL DRAGONS!” She blurted out victoriously as Eliot held his head in defeat and fell back on his chair. Now it was her turn. To be honest, he got a bit worried. Her questions were pretty good digging at what he lacked knowledge of, which unfortunately was the surface knowledge of the mythos.

She pondered for a bit before chuckling in a deeper tone, herself mimicking what he had done to her.

“Okay, here I go. Can Eru Iluvatar erase Morgoth from existence if they would desire it?”

The question was a bit tricky, Eru Iluvitar was this world´s version of God but in the LOTR universe, so technically he could do it, but there had to be something else, she wouldn’t ask a question as easy as that for nothing. Or was she playing mind games with him? The answer has to be-

He suddenly felt a soft touch on his ankle from under the table, he jumped slightly at the touch, he tried to figure out what it was until the thing touching him slowly began to ascend his leg, then slowly nearing his knee. Oh. His skin shivered slightly at the realization of what that was. It was the woman´s foot slowly going up his leg, teasing him, distracting him from answering before the time ran out.

“What´s wrong, dear? Getting nervous? You know if you don’t answer my question before time runs out you lose, right?” The voice of the woman ribbed him with her signature low and slightly seductive tone. Eliot shivered again, feeling a small familiar warmth coming from his abdomen.

His heart beat faster every second that passed, his mind rushed and tried to entertain his thoughts somewhere else. Feet had been a big thing he was into, being under one, inside a shoe with the naked foot there, he was a slave to the idea of being played with by a gigantic foot. His mind wandered a bit and he felt himself shrink a couple of inches, giving into the feeling for a bit, before gathering himself again, a phrase repeating in his head, a simple yet effective mantra for himself.

“Don’t shrink. Don’t shrink. Don’t shrink!”

The foot had made it to his thigh and was rubbing the inside of it with slow and methodical strokes, a low chuckle from her reached his ears entertained by the fact that he was practically trembling to her touch, but not exactly for the reason she thought. Well no, that wasn’t entirely right. It was exactly for the reason she thought but added a slight panic of being seen shrinking.

Focus, Lord of the Rings lore! Morgoth is a material being, below Aru Iluvitar. So, he could be erased from existence… But there is a trick. What was it?!

“15 seconds, Rudolph~”

 A few tense seconds passed as the woman savored her soon-to-be victory.

“No” He finally answered. Gathering all his strength to not succumb to her tactics. The foot abruptly stopped in its tracks.

“But why?” She asked to see if she could bait out a wrong reason.

“Morgoth is part of Eru Iluvitar ´s grand plan so to delete Morgoth from existence would mean that he would no longer be part of the plan, which is not in the plan, therefore he cannot be erased. PLUS! Morgoth put a curse on existence that binds him to the fabric of reality which means you cannot truly get rid of him if you don’t want to untangle reality as we know it”

The foot receded to where it came from as she let out a frustrated sigh.

“Dammit.”

“Hey, that was cheating, you sore loser,” He said with a small hint of smugness in his voice as her strategy had failed her. His voice wavered ever so slightly but he tried to keep his cool.

The timer rang and everyone around them started finishing up their conversations. This was the last round of the night.

What the hell was that? Why did she suddenly want to tease him like that? Was it just a playful thing to do with someone you like? Did she like him? No. That couldn’t be it, maybe she just wanted him to waver and get 20 dollars from him.

“Well, I guess no one gets the 20 bucks then,” she said with a hint of defeat in her voice as she remained sat in front of him.

What did the foot thing mean? This question kept poking at him, provoking him to dig deeper, like finding a file of a murder so gruesome to imagine but too interesting to put down. He wanted to know. No, he NEEDED to know. Did she like him, and why?

“Not necessarily. Do you have any plans for later tonight?” Eliot asked as he looked at the figure in front of him.

A somber silence could be heard as Eliot´s heart began to drop. Stupid question, he shouldn’t have asked in the first place.

“Am free. Thinking of telling the frontman we became a couple?” She said teasingly as she began standing up, gathering her things, Eliot could see the faintest glow of light reflecting off her teeth and lips as they smiled at him.

His chest felt like it burst with a cloud of butterflies coming out of it. The feeling he had when she was teasing him, the feeling of seeing her for the first time at the main entrance, the feeling of her foot climbing up his leg, the feeling of her answering all his questions correctly about the franchise that he was passionate about, all were melded together in one ecstatic punch to the chest with just a couple of words.

“E-Exactly what I was going to suggest…”

“Alright! I want some free drinks! But…” She looked at him as they both walked towards the exit, night lights outside making it easier for them to see each other and their features.

“I liked talking to you about Lord of the Rings, you seemed so happy and enthusiastic that I thought I was talking to a little kid speaking of their favorite TV series. We MUST continue our questions to see who the bigger nerd is”.

“Yeah! Sounds like fun! I loved talking to you… uhm I never got your name”

The mystery woman hopped outside for a bit. Eliot finally could look at the person who was torturing him mentally and physically for the past 15 minutes. She hopped around happily putting her arms out, a bright smile on her freckled face illuminated the night like a lighthouse. Her short brunette hair flowed with the cold air as she walked around, her eyes closed. She was radiant, beautiful, graceful, there were no words in the English dictionary to describe how his heart felt seeing such a jolly creature hop around enjoying the night. There went an inch of his size, but not because he felt flustered, embarrassed, or… aroused… there was a word he had used before but now couldn’t find it again. Before he could finish the thought his mystery date giggled and walked up to him and whispered in his ear.

“The name is Eva. Pleased to meet you, Rudolph”

[godofstrife]

starter for @manxietydisorder

thomas // maesello

Becoming the newly proclaimed king in a small kingdom in the Pindos mountains had not been hard at all, Maesello had found out from first hand experience. Some compulsion was all that he needed to make the royal family believe he was their rightful son and heir. A similar trick had worked on the small population high up in the mountains. He spoke Greek, after all, which made the shift to the regional Aromanian language variants almost natural. Their structures that are influenced by Greek, as well as the fact that Maesello had an infinite amount of time on his hands, made adapting his language use quick and easy. He had taken the position of king about fifteen years ago at this point, which for him seemed still newly proclaimed. Maesello's sense of time was, however, highly distorted. He had been moving around the world for the past six hundred years, fifteen years was nothing to him. He had seen the world change, nations fall and rise, wars fought and disease spread. Now he had gotten the reigns to a little, prospering kingdom, he was not as aware of the time that passed anymore. Although each year, he was reminded of his coronation in the early 1710s, which gave him some sense of time.

Keeping a court with humans, on the other hand, was a lot harder for the new king. His nature was not helping him in this regard, but he also held a certain disdain toward the species. It was not a rare occurance that Maesello had to replace his staff after he got angry with them over something minor and killed them off. Nor was it rare for him to drink from his court and end up killing them. His thirst was insatiable, even after his six centuries on this earth. He had never been taught how to, nor did he manage to teach himself how to control himself. He had been made this way, and he had completely accepted it. In turn, his court was frequently replaced; but there was nothing that a little compulsion could not fix after all. There were more than enough poor humans that were in need of a job and more importantly, a place to stay. Maesello knew that he had an almost endless supply of humans at his disposal.

He had recently had one of his 'purges' again, meaning he needed new court staff. He had found people for most of his positions, although the position of footman was still open. This was mostly because he did not like humans coming close to him, yet not having a footman would be suspicious. He had had an eye on a human that had been in the care of the court's services for a while for this position, a poor human man who seemed completely depended yet also extremely devoted to his court. Maesello decided that this was the man he wanted to be at his side, at least for now, as a footman. He had not spoken to the younger man before, though, he had only seen him. More importantly, he had smelled the blood the young man carried. The harsh manual labour had made the young man bleed before and Maesello could not get the scent out of his mind. He was not sure if this would be a good thing for him, keeping a human with alluring blood near by, but he was going to do so anyway. Maesello had never let any sense of morality stop him after all.

He had ordered the young man over, Thomas Cullen was his name he only then learned. The few court members left from his previous purge seemed wary about letting Thomas near the king, yet they could not do anything against his direct orders. He stood in his meeting room, waiting for the young man to come in. He had thought of meeting the man in his throne room, but he did not really enjoy being there. The imagery present upset him greatly. He held a glass of red liquid, something that simulated a red wine. When he heard the door open, he turned from the window he had been looking out of, his sharp eyes meeting the young man's directly. "Thomas Cullen, I am glad you could make it." he spoke, his voice was smooth and deep as he did. He stepped closer, gesturing to the couches in the room, "Please sit down, Thomas." he beckoned, crossing his own legs as he sat down. "Because of your wonderful work, darling," he offered the human a glass of red wine as well as he was speaking, "I am offering you the position of being my Footman." As he finished speaking he sat back. "What do you say, darling?" he asked then, raising an eye brow as he waited for the human's response. He was aware that his dear servants may have warned the human, but there was nothing a little manipulation could not fix, no, his pet names were solely the beginning of that.