#bee drabbles

[suksatoru]

"if you can hear me, chosen one, give me your strongest kick."

you lift your gaze from the book page pinched between your fingers and offer satoru an unimpressed glare. as scolding as you try to appear, there's a hint of a smile tugging your lips upward at his ridiculously adorable antics.

"i think our princess might be napping," he hums, pressing a flurry of kisses over the swell of your stomach as you squirm under his touch, wiggling your toes.

"you're going to be late, satoru! weren't you supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago?"

"hahh?"

he drops his face back onto your stomach gently, sighing happily as his hand glides over the soft bump. you decide to let him lie with you for a little while longer—the soft smile etched onto his face was far too precious to disturb.

"i'll text nanami and let him know you'll be a bit late to the mission, okay?" you say softly, carding a hand through his platinum locks as he hums softly, lashes fluttering close.

satoru talked to the baby in your belly quite often—even going as far as having full-on conversations with her. there had been countless nights where you stirred awake only to hear his silky sweet voice muffled against your stomach, all while he gazed starry eyed at the gentle curve of your stomach in front of him.

satoru's dearest dream had always been to have a family. it was a quiet truth he wouldn't ever dare to speak into existence because it didn't seem possible in any universe—but somehow, he stumbled upon a way. and now he gets to spend his evenings like this with you.

satoru's boundless affection during your pregnancy will forever be something you would be grateful for. the fondest thing you would look back on would have to be the endless amount of baby clothes he got—satoru had even purchased a matching set of onesies for all three of you to wear. typical satoru. he was adamant about making sure the three of you would have a bunch of pictures together as a family so he'd be able to send everyone he knew those corny holiday cards he always saw on tv—the only reason you remember that moment from so long ago right now is because of the phone call you received.

"hello?" you speak in a hushed tone, rocking the ivory haired baby in the crib next to you gently as you hold your phone between your cheek and shoulder.

"hello! is this mrs. gojo? i'm calling to confirm your family photoshoot scheduled for next week. it's the two hour session. it looks like you scheduled it a little over a year ago?" her voice comes to life through the phone, and your rocking slows to a stop.

"oh," is all you can manage at first.

you hear the sound of her typing come to a slow stop as she waits for your response. you resume rocking your daughter's crib before answering.

"i'm sorry, but it seems like my husband forgot to cancel the appointment."

she goes on a bit of a tangent, gently scolding you because the company was extremely busy with numerous photoshoots and you had canceled so last minute—but she promised to get it fixed and have the money refunded as soon as possible.

the line beeps quietly when you drop the call, and your hand feels perpetually numb as you drop your phone into your lap.

you rub at the sting that blinds your eyes a second later before rising on wobbly legs, not checking if your baby is asleep as you stumble towards your bedroom's balcony door and slide it open. you tuck your knees under you on the ground and rest your head against the railing, allowing the cool metal to be pressed against your cheek as you take a steadying breath.

you were nearing the one year anniversary of satoru's death and, quite stupidly at that, thought you'd be in a better condition by now. but his presence was irreplaceable—and it was moments like this where you were reminded how painful it was to lose your soulmate in the blink of an eye.

the night air kisses your cheek, whipping your hair around gently as it falls over your eyes—and the sensation is uncannily familiar to the way satoru's slender fingers would play with your hair and tickle your cheek whenever he was in a particularly playful mood.

the night traffic flowing beneath you fades to nothing as the wind whirls around you—but, it felt like if you closed your eyes hard enough, strained your ears as much as possible—then maybe you could make yourself believe that the whistling wind whizzing past your ear was satoru's voice lulling the ache in your chest away instead.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

shoto todoroki is fucking shameless. and surprisingly clingy.

he’d done a good job becoming a little more social little by little. he’s still a little wonky and awkward during the few times he tries to make conversation, but he tries and that’s the good part. you’re proud of him.

you’ve known shoto since you were kids, his closest friend, you’d seen him through it all and you’re so grateful that he’s found friends he feels comfortable and happy with, though he always reassures you that you’re dearest to him, which always makes you a little too giddy and flustered for somebody who’s supposed to be his closest friend and nothing more.

you’re in the cafeteria chatting with your mutual friends, shoto had told you to go off without him since he needed to go the bathroom and you found yourself sitting next to midoriya when he’d scooched in next to you, happy to see there was still a spot for him at the table. you liked midoriya a lot, he was sweet, cute and most importantly he made shoto come out of his shell in a way that you regrettably never could, plus the way he flails around when he gets embarrassed is pretty funny.

(you did notice ochaco’s face going completely blank for a few seconds, but you didn’t think much about it.)

after a few minutes of giggling and chatting shoto shows up, and something is immediately wrong with the way his natural straight face goes absolutely dead in the span of three seconds. it’s subtle, but you know him and it’s there. there also seems to be a chill in the room now.

he’s at your side of the table in three seconds, but he doesn’t register your smile in greeting as his cold gaze is glued to the green haired boy next to you.

“midoriya,” and his voice even sounds a little deeper, colder as he speaks like he somehow managed to use his right side on his mouth.

“that’s my seat.” he states calmly.

“oh ! my bad, todoroki !” izuku splutters an apology, but shoto’s eyes do not waver, staying fixed on the boy until he grabs his tray and makes a move to stand “i didn’t realize this was your spot, sorry !”

you feel a little bad at how intensely he’s apologizing, but you’re still shell shocked about that look. shoto seems unfazed though, his expression morphs slightly when izuku goes to squeeze in next to iida.

“i always sit next to yn.”

it’s so stupid. really, it is. how fast that makes your heart beat. because shoto does always sit next to you, he always has and he still always does when you come over to his house. but it’s the fact that he didn’t say he always sits here, in his unassigned assigned seat.

he said he always sits next to you. and your mind and heart races.

you don’t get much time to think because immediately he’s next to you, sighing before sitting as close to you as he can. he looks over to you and you look back, still a little startle but his features are soft again when he looks at you. he drops his utensils to thread his fingers with yours under the table.

“ did you wash your hands, mister ?” you tease, but you squeeze his hand when he squeezes yours. he frowns but it’s not the one from before. it almost looks like a pout and you snort.

“yes, i did.” he snips, you giggle and his eyes soften. even as you assure him you were just kidding he doesn’t mind, he couldn’t be mad at you.

you offer him a bite of your lunch as truce and he leans forward and plops a piece in his mouth from your chopsticks, then offers you a bit of his precious soba noodles and even holds a hand below them so they don’t spill because he insists on feeding you himself.

your friends pretend they don’t see the lowkey romantic exchange, but with the way shoto keeps insisting to have you eat his food and the soft barely there smile when you crack a joke that manages to break through his icey demeanor, they can start to figure out why he wanted to sit next to you so bad.

[bumblebee-otch]

.the sun.

The sun is warm on my skin, and I'm surrounded by flora and friendship.

The breeze is nice, and Compassion brought flowers, treats, and wine for our little get together.

She and I kick off our shoes to talk about men and art, and we watch our friends bicker with each other about who's taking up more space on their side of the picnic blanket.

My skirt is splayed across my corner of the soft fabric as I laugh along with her, and I feel like a young girl again, only much happier.

The music is playing loudly from the stage, and it’s not what we had expected by any means when we'd booked these tickets.

Music in the Gardens, the post had said. The name was backed by a string quartet, but not a single one had played for the first hour we'd been here.

"They're not very good," Loyalty sighs over to Compassion and I after watching the young band for a while. We snicker as Integrity lies dramatically across Loyalty's lap.

"Well," Integrity flinches and laughs as Loyalty flicks him on the forehead, "They're not all that bad for high school students."

Compassion smiles at them as they argue, and she snaps a photo of the two together as she asks me, "What do you think, Empathy?"

I watch as she snaps a couple more pictures and let the breeze and the wine and the moment wash over me, "I don't mind it all that much."

The music can’t be so bad, I muse to myself, I mean, it brought us here together, after all.

The sun is warm on my skin, and I'm grateful to be surrounded by flora and friendship.

[abyssyby]

I could imagine luke and kieran getting (chronic) cuteness aggression towards the little twins... But sylus though?

sylus absolutely has no fight. a goner. helpless and doomed to the cuteness of his babies. ❤️‍🩹

sylus & his family | sylus x reader | fluff, cuteness aggression, draconic traits & instincts coming out, some1 help him he might eat them (endearing, he wont!!!)

the little twins are friend shaped. they’re love shaped. they’re cute-cuddly-squishy.

everyone in the family can’t help but press their noses against their cheeks and squeeze their pudgy little arms until they get bapped away.

during infancy, when the babies were barely even two, they’d almost always waddle into the trap of someone’s arms, get engulfed and bombarded with kissies and sniffs.

“eugh, why do you smell so nice?” kieran would grumble, nose in a little lucian’s tousle of hair. “you just pooped.”

lucian blinks in confusion, reading the expression on kieran’s face. wondering why his brows were drawn tight, why his nostrils were flared and why his mouth was downturned. beyond his comprehension, he is once again sniffed. reduced to a piece of meat to a bloodhound, and kieran grumbles again.

“this is bad.” he frowns at his little addiction. baby powder, fresh milk, flowers and citrus. sniff, sniff, sniff. and a hint of heaven.

“does this count as a squeezy-squeeze?” wonders luke, his fingers gently pinching and stretching kyros’s cheeks. kyros, unbothered, flashes his charming four-toothed smile at him. luke is weak, immediately blowing raspberries in his little face. Eyes watery, no idea why he was so moved by a gurgle and an imperfect grin. the urge to protect, nurture and nuzzle flows through his veins and he does not know what to do with himself except cuddle the baby a little closer.

the big twins are powerless to them, but none of them compare to their father.

the infamous, looming, all-powerful, ever ominous, consuming, devouring monarch of Onychinus. whose simple shadow is enough to rule the entire N109 zone.

diminished, demolished and deprecated by two fat little infants in his arms.

sylus is a good bluffer. honed and practiced; his impulses are mere mosquitoes he swats away. until these two came along.

suddenly, he is a cat to a laser pointer. a moth to a flame. a helpless father pressing his clueless son’s cheek to his, cooing and awing at the mirror at the adorable sight.

he’ll deny it when you point it out, but when sylus is around the children, he turns just that little bit beast. his brain short circuits that tiny bit, his pupils melt into docile buttons and he is curling around his children like he would a hoard of gold.

on your shared bed would be a long, curled pillow, nesting the two for some tummy time with mama and papa. sylus would be an additional safe-guard— the length of his body curled around them, his arm outstretched for more reach as he crowds them close to his chest.

he loves their scent, and sort of “marks” them with his as well as he nuzzles their cheeks and their hair with his nose. peppering kisses all over their distressed little faces when he gets a little too much.

“mm’wah! m’wah!” echoes off the walls. the sound of crisp smooches glazed over jingling giggles— a song of record scratches and bells sung by a father and his sons.

“sy.” you’d warn gently when you hear a gasped squeak. he’d grumble, just short of a growl, then huff through his nose before starting again. this time gentler. the crying is soothed before it starts; the joyous symphony continues its melody.

it’s especially comical for you to watch him go through the motions of restraint when the littles do something novelly adorable.

“that’s… not fair.” sylus grins, fingers fidgeting as he watches kyros’s face stretch, his mouth forming a small oblong as he yawns. a happy chuckle rumbles his chest— both out of amusement and the shameless audacity of this little creature to be this cute. this little creature. his little creature.

“you can’t bite him.” you’d tell him. he rolls his eyes and tells you it’s a silly thing to think he’d do such a thing. but in the same instant, he turns and bites your arm instead.

“sylus!” you gasp.

he laughs, pure and endearing. “what? it wasn’t him.”

lucian is perpetually stuck to his chest. his single, large hand enough to be a makeshift baby carrier. lucian’s head protected at all times beneath the awning of his father’s chin. tucked preciously beneath his jaw which he tenses in restraint. his head is a broken record loop of he’s so cute he’s so cute he’s so cute and he can never find it in himself to just put him down.

“sweetie,” he says one day, voice raw and tender as he walks into your bedroom with a sleepy lucian. steam-bun cheeks like putty against his forearm.

you rise, thinking he’d want you to take the baby, but instead he turns. movement so minuscule you almost miss it; it was just a shift of weight, a half inch to the right, but visibly away from your reaching arms. your brows raise at the growl that emits in his chest. “sylus?”

he blinks, snapping back into now. “i’m sorry. no, that wasn’t for you.”

concern tinges your beautiful features and his heartstrings twist and tangle even more. you frown, “are you alright, my love?”

stressed, he exhales through his nose. a powerless slump in his shoulders as he nods towards his little treasure. “he’s… impossibly adorable.”

the concern grows, but your lips curl into a smirk. teasing, assuming it is a compliment, you say, “thank you?”

but he’s serious.

“yes— thank you.” he’s sweeping you up by the waist with his other arm, guiding you into bed to lay beside him and your child on his belly. his lips find purchase on your cheeks, your brow and then your lips. he repeats, words dear and true, “thank you.”

because without you, then none of this would be his. the cuddles, squishes, hugs and kisses. he is still in disbelief that he gets to have this, still in disbelief that they are his and he can. that he can shower them in affection, embrace them in his arms, bathe them with all the attention and love they deserve. and that is all because of you.

you curl up to him, lean your head on his shoulder as he pokes at lucian’s cheek. you both watch it dip and bounce back up like pudding and you get it. overwhelmed, maybe by instincts— maternal or draconic as well, you don’t know— but now you want to bite him too.

“hey.” sylus chuckles when he feels the sting of your teeth sinking into his shoulder.

“sorry.” you blush, brows knit together in a sheepish doe-eyed look. “it wasn’t him.”

his troubled heart melts at the sight of you. he laughs, a feat of strength not to do so too much as to not jostle the slumbering angel on him. it is clear to him now, who the twins got it from.

forgiveness comes in the form of a pinch to your cheek and a kiss— because if he can’t eat them, he will eat you.

he’ll look forward to the day when the twins will bite him back. he’ll allow them as much noms and nibbles as they desire. but now, papa is simply getting a head start.

[hello-sweetheart]

Spirit medium! Steve

Guys, it’s almost Halloween (I say in March) so I was thinking of Steve being a medium but not really knowing. He works completely on vibes alone and just never questions them.

This, of course, concerns Eddie who, despite his dark aesthetic, really does not fuck with the paranormal. He’s Appalachian, the general rule is: if you see something, no you didn’t.

It starts with something small and more confusing than creepy. Quirky even! Eddie takes Steve with him to the thrift—more like Steve has latched himself onto Eddie and now each time Eddie runs the most mundane of tasks like looking for winter coat, Steve insists on coming—and Steve drifts from his side over to the shelves of trinkets to closely inspect a small doll.

It’s tiny, palm sized, and would be cute if Eddie didn’t have an innate fear of porcelain dolls. Steve picks it up and follows Eddie around for 30minutes and all the way to the register with the thing where he proceeds to purchase it for 50 cents.

“Dude, why?”

“I just like it. She’s cool.” Note, Steve says this as he places the tiny doll in is shirt pocket, it’s creepy little face peaking out.

Eddie laughs, thinks Steve is trying to be silly. “So what are you gonna name it then?”

“Why would I name her, she already has a name. Her names Felicity and she’s an old woman, really sweet actually, used to be a teacher.”

“Okay??” Whatever, maybe robins eccentricities and imagination is rubbing off on him.

Except the next time Eddie visits Steve, the thing—Felicity—is perched on the kitchen window sill, staring out into the yard.

“So what’s she doing here?” Eddie is hovering by the door of the kitchen like a nervous dog. He did NOT expect to have another encounter with the doll.

“She likes to look at the birds.”

“The doll, likes birdwatching.” Steve kicks his shoe.

“Don’t be rude.”

At this point Eddie is throughly creeped out and just nervously laughs. He quickly and awkwardly offers a “sorry ma’am” towards the doll just in case and walks out of the kitchen.

Eddie brings this up one day with Robin who just makes it worse.

“Oh yeah, that’s just Steve’s thing. I think he can tell when stuff is haunted or something, it’s really eerie actually. I try not to think about it.”

“You believe in ghosts?” Eddie is judging hard.

“I saw a monster made out of melted people parts, Eddie. At this point, the paranormal may as well exist.” Fair.

“So you don’t mind that Steve just has a doll around in the kitchen?”

“Felicity is pretty chill, actually. Not like— Steve brought home an old teacup one day, said he feels like it belonged to a little girl named Debra. Except he kept it in sunroom and suddenly the room felt really fucking weird all the time. Like your being watched, you know?”

“Sure.”

“Anyways, one day it was just gone, I noticed cuz the room felt lighter somehow, and Steve said he had to get rid of it cuz he didn’t like that Debra gave him nightmares.”

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Felicity hasn’t done anything freaky though, so I guess she’s alright.”

Eddie does not like this little hobby thing—whatever you can fuckin call it. He doesn’t like Felicity, he doesn’t like how Steve will sometimes seemingly name random objects, and he certainly does not like how Steve doesn’t even seem to think that any of it is weird.

But Eddie likes Steve, like-likes Steve, so Eddie has learned to deal with Felicity, and Bernard (this chewed up looking teddy bear that sits on the bookshelf that apparently does not like when people don’t use their inside voices, and Cherry.

(Cherry being a mug that used to belong to Wayne, but when Steve came over and pointed to it, said Cherry liked that mug because it was from one of her favorite places on her last roadtrip, Wayne just took it down from where it hung on the wall and gave it to Steve without a word. Steve looked absolutely stoked. Neither Wayne nor Eddie have brought it up, and it’s unlikely they ever will.)

[superbat-love]

Dick: Bruce, what does it mean when someone’s heart rate increases around another person?

Bruce: Alright, I expected this question to be brought up eventually. It’s a physiological response mediated by both biological and biochemical processes when one experiences moments of arous-

Dick: And whenever you see this person, they just seem to light up the room?

Bruce: I can’t do this. Clark, you have a go at answering his question.

Clark: Well Dick, when a bat and a bee meet, though of different species, the bee’s heart starts to sing. And so, it shines as bright as the sun and feel the urge to sting…

[starrystevie]

"you're gonna make me fall in love with you, aren't you?"

eddie's room is quiet except for the ambient noise the trailer makes and the deep, sighing breaths steve is making against his chest. it's the same breaths he makes when he's sleeping, the ones that sound like once he's unconscious, he can actually let go and take in a full breath without all of his daily anxieties holding him back.

eddie assumes he's asleep now so he mutters out the secret he's been holding in for too long. eddie assumes incorrectly because steve's snuffling against his chest to resettle his ear over eddie's heart.

"would that be such a bad thing?"

steve's fingers drag slowly across his stomach before wrapping around the side of his bare waist, pulling like he could somehow get eddie even closer than he already is. he has half a mind to push steve off his chest so he can't hear how wildly the move makes his heart flutter.

eddie sighs, runs his fingertips over steve's freckled shoulder like an apology. like a promise. "i'm not sure yet."

they aren't just friends, they aren't dating but they're- they're something. something that's made up of too hard kisses and wandering hands and gazes that catch before darting away with dopey grins. they're a forest fire that can't burn out, can't be controlled until it's all scorched earth in its wake. they're a rainstorm, soothing and gentle, coaxing life back into the forest floor like it deserves a fresh start.

eddie's afraid but when is he ever not? eddie's confused but that's not exactly a first either. eddie's falling for steve and it has his brain tied up in knots as he tries to make sense of it all. steve wraps a leg over his while his fingers drum against his side. he has to be able to hear how everything he does, everything he is, affects eddie because he's leaning up to press a shock of a kiss over his heart. like the electricity from that alone will shock eddie's heart back into rhythm.

"well, let me know when you make up your mind about falling," steve whispers sleepily, his lips dancing over eddie's sensitive skin leaving goosebumps and lightning in its wake, "because i'm already down here waiting."

eddie's heart thuds painfully, steve covers it with a kiss once more.

he closes his eyes and feels, takes in the sharp bite of steve's cologne, matches his breathes to steve's, runs his foot over his bare calf to get them even closer. he doesn't have to think about it for too much longer because he already knows that he'll follow steve anywhere, even if that means tumbling and falling after him.

[suguwu]

gojo running away from time to time has me thinking about him wandering right into you when you're both young. you who shows him little respect (after all, he walked into you!) and eyes his nice kimono with a skeptical brow ("you wear that to the playground?" "playgrounds are for little kids." "ugh.") before going on your way.

except he follows you. suddenly you have this snowy-haired shadow who doesn't budge when you shove at him to get a little space. he watches you with those blue, blue eyes. you've never experienced anything like it—it's icy, aloof, but he's clearly curious.

you sigh. you take him by the hand (for a moment, you think he'll pull away, but then he laces his fingers through yours and doesn't let go) and guide him to the swings. "c'mon," you say. "i bet you can't go as high as me."

he rolls his eyes. "i can go higher."

you put your hands on your hips. "prove it."

"okay."

he soars into the sky, going so high you have to shield your eyes against the sun to see him. when he reaches the peak of the arc, he jumps. you shriek, but he lands perfectly, as elegant as a swan.

"told you," he says.

you frown. "you're annoying."

he stares at you. "you're annoying."

you huff, puffing out your cheeks. he watches you steadily. "fine," you say. "i don't wanna play with you anymore."

he grabs you before you can flounce away, wrapping a tight hand around your wrist.

"hey!"

"don't go," he says. he's staring again, his crystalline eyes wide. you wonder if anyone has ever walked away from him before. you consider him for a moment.

"okay," you say. "but you gotta be nice."

he blinks. then he nods.

(nice, you find, means something different to him. but you can tell he's trying.)

hours later, he pauses on the slide, tilting his head like a dog. "i have to go," he says. "be here tomorrow."

he's gone before you can protest.

despite yourself, you show up at the playground the next day.

[stimnkbot]

bees midlife crisis is going just fine. thanks for asking.

drabble under the cut

(slightly suggestive)

“We can’t be doing this,” Starscream mumbled breathlessly against Bee’s lips. Pressed against the wall, he turned his head to avoid getting trapped in another kiss but Bee was more than happy to nip against his jaw.

“Why not?” Bee asked, earnestly. So earnestly.

“Don’t play dumb, kid.”

“I’m not. And I told you not to call me that!” Bee bit down on Starscream’s neck in retaliation. Starscream clenched his jaw to avoid making an embarrassing noise.

“What happened to you?” Bee teased. “Used to be a seeker, took what you wanted when you wanted it.”

“I’m still a seeker,” Starscream said with a pout.

“Then what’s stopping you? You want me,” Bee said, as a matter of fact, lifting his knee so his thigh could provide more friction between Starscream’s legs. “Why are you holding back?”

Starscream was being baited. And the worst part was that it was working.

He pulled Bee in by the nape of his neck into a bruising kiss that was more a violent clash of teeth than anything else.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, scout.”

[hexdesire]

Nerdy Loser!Caitlyn x Queen Bee! Reader

No one knows they are dating ?

“just get in.”

you grumble as you practically shove the taller girl into the janitor’s closet. a rather ritualistic affair the two of you adopted ever since you started dating in secret.

quickies during lectures in the closest, vacant spaces the two of you could manage; of which so happened to often be a closet, of some sort.

“darling, we don't have much t.. oh.. o-oh my— gods..”

caitlyn attempted to protest, words interrupted by the sudden press of your knee against her clothed cunt. the searing hotness of your breath fanning against her neck, where the unskillfully applied concealer lied to cover the previous marks you’d left.

“caught you starin’ at me during the lecture.. clenching those pretty thighs together so tightly. fuck, and you’re so fucking wet already. guessin’ you like this skimpy little skirt I wore for you, huh?”

cait whimpered at your words, desperately canting her hips forward against your knee. she wanted you so bad, and she wasn't above begging.

“f-fuck, alright.. needed you so bad, darling, please.. I’ll be so good for you, y’know that.. please, I ju—“

her pleas are immediately interrupted by the whimpers and choked moans she lets out the moment she feels you hiking up her long skirt, and pulling aside her panties. the moment two of your fingers sink so easily into her weeping cunt. and then another. the way they curl within her once they reach full hilt.

the way you make her take it.

you can feel the contracting of her walls, the grip constricting around your digits. you can’t help but to tease.

“think you can cum in five minutes?” ♡

[fbfh]

did you know that Dean wakes up one morning and realizes he has a fucking bombshell of a wife/husband/spouse, a cozy (slightly rural) suburban house, and not one but three fucking daughters???? Did you know that he woke up one morning to toddler giggles and little kid bickering and baby babbling????? and your girls come charging in hushing their little giggles so they don't wake up mommy and daddy and so OBVIOUSLY he has to pretend to be asleep so he doesn't foil their plan. he focuses all his energy on keeping his face and body relaxed, keeping his breathing even. they're whispering and babbling and Dean peeks an eye open and looks at the love of his life and these three angels with their daddy's attitude and their mama's heart. they have your eyes and his smile. they're... the best parts of both of you, and there's something entirely new and beautiful in each of them too.

Bobby Dean is your oldest, and her 4th birthday is just around the corner. She's 3 and 3/4 right now, and won't let anyone forget it.

Your second is Jodi John, or JJ informally. She's fought her way half way through the terrible twos and is already getting a head start on the whole 3 going on 13 thing.

Mary Cass, or Cassie, is your youngest. She's just over a year old, and wants to do everything her big sisters do.

And Dean is looking at your little girls, and at you. He sees the way the morning sunlight dapples in through the window and illuminates their tangled hair and disney princess nightgowns. Your face is all puffy from sleep, and you still smell like the apple pie you made yesterday.

it's real, he realizes. that pipe dream that apple pie life.

you gave that to him. you did that. you turned his deepest, most unspoken desires into a reality like it was nothing. and every ounce of joy and love and peace he feels every moment of every day, he owes it all to you. You try to tell him on occasion when he gets all sentimental on you, he deserves it. he deserves every good thing he feels, and he's so great with the girls, he's a natural dad and you couldn't possibly dream of a better husband to do it with.

Because at his heart, Dean is a family man. He's your family man.

[lorelune]

regency au jing yuan how you are haunting me.

(continued here!)

a retired general who at the ripe age of thirty five has never taken a wife. never showed any interest in procuring a spouse nor does he entertain any attempts by the mamas of the ton to throw their eligible children at him. he is a polite scoundrel, kind-hearted in a way that makes those with half a mind question how someone with his demeanor could ever be the famed general who's strategies downed Shuhu during the Abundance Upheaval. he doesn't seem to care for his legacy, as much as he has cultivated one. he doesn't mind gossip, but doesn't entertain it much either.

you only meet him due to fortunate circumstances.

lord Luocha, a successful travelling merchant, pledged patronage to you sometime ago. he keeps you in a little cottage on the grounds of his manor where you're allowed to mostly do as you please as long as there's a new painting hung on the lord's wall every few months or so. the lord likes when you play too. he brings back new instruments for you to try, though he never expects mastery. he has an air of mystery to him that, despite all of the time you spend near him, keeps you from understanding him fully. you aren't one to pry about it either.

lord luocha invites jing yuan over to partake in fancy spirits from a country and city you can't ever hope to visit, let alone find on a map. you bring lord luocha your newest work-- (a meticulously completed oil painting. something more abstract, suited to the odd lonely and isolation you feel in your little, cozy cottage, despite all of the comforts you are afforded)-- and happen upon the pair.

lord luocha examines your newest work with pride, and shortly after introduces you. 'his patron' he calls you, but offers jing yuan no title. you--

(do not have one. it was stripped from you a long time ago. you think being an artist suits you better, anyways.)

jing yuan offers you his name, though you already know it. you recognize him based on the prattling of the girls and boys at the market. they swoon over his stature, fawn over his good deeds, and make note of his identifiable red hair ribbon. he has the same soft, sun-colored eyes that you had heard the eligible young of the ton giggle about.

you bow to him politely.

you have no reason to linger, but luocha calls you to anyways. perhaps he is lonely. perhaps you want him to be lonely, so it gives you a reason to stick closer to his side in the rare moments he is home for more than a day or two. the proximity is shared with jing yuan, who regards you with keen eyes and a lazy smile. the attention upon you feels weighted, important, like you're something special.

you savor it, however fleeting.

perhaps, however, you misunderstood jing yuan. or lord luocha's intentions.

because as jing yuan rises to take his leave and you bow once more, he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss into the soft skin. you're sure you smell of linseed and yarrow oil. he lingers there for a moment before meeting your gaze. there's a light of mischief in them that sends your heart fluttering. your breath catches.

when jing yuan is out of the manor, lord luocha pats your shoulder gently, "quite the man, isn't he?"

"i suppose... he is."

"you may speak freely."

"i am," you mince, and shake your head. you must be careful, entertaining such fanciful thoughts. "he is... kind."

"and handsome."

"lord luocha," you barely keep yourself from whining. "please, do not tease me. or the poor man. from what i hear, he has enough to deal with."

"the mamas do chase after him like foxes to a hen," lord luocha chuckles and studies your painting once more with a curious tilt of his head. "he'll ask to see you again, i'm certain."

"and why do you say that?"

"general jing yuan has never taken the hand of a potential suitor."

your heart feels heavy and warm in your chest, burning. "my lord, you cannot possibly think that this single action indicates that the general will... call upon me? that is highly unorthodox and i don't believe that's... quite allowed."

"jing yuan has never cared for the dances of decorum." lord luocha guides you into your gardens. the peonies are in bloom, full and lush in the humidity of late spring. "and, for the record, i don't believe he'll simply call upon you. court, properly, certainly."

"you're bluffing."

"what reason do i have to lie?"

"to tease me, as you so enjoy doing," you huff.

lord luocha simply hums and pauses near a bush of lilacs. they're fragrant, at the peak of their season. the scent rolls over you.

"if i truly intended to tease you, i simply would abstain from telling you of jing yuan's interest and allow you to be terribly surprised when he arrives and formally asks for you and your time. consider this a warning. i'll walk you to the modiste tomorrow, hm?"

you want to squawk at him. your linen dresses and tunics are fine (albeit smeared and stained with paints and oils over the years. you rarely bother replacing them.)

you want to protest and pry more, but lord luocha strikes you silent when he breaks off a cluster of lilac and tucks it behind your ear. he leaves you with your thoughts, however tortuous. and, perhaps horribly, you find yourself believing him. perhaps the warm-eyed general really was charmed. perhaps, your dresses needed replacing and you should contact your perfumer friend for a fresh vial or two.

perhaps perhaps perhaps, you can still feel where his lips lingered on your skin, like a brand. you never thought you could ache for burning, but in the gardens, you find yourself clutching your hand to your chest, craving the lick of the his sun's heat once more.

[bumblebee-otch]

.empathy & friends.

-the beginning-

Hello.

I'm sure you're wondering who I am, and why you should care. In truth, I don't have an answer for why you should care... but I can tell you who I am.

My name is Empathy. They used to call me Insecurity, a long time ago.

Back when I spent time around characteristics that weren't as lovely as the ones I'm surrounded by now. Characters like Greed, or Lust, or Pride. Privilege, Ignorance, Hate, Anger, Malice, Fear, and Disrespect.

Turns out, the characters you surround yourself with really do affect your own identity. I'm grateful to have changed, both in company and in identity.

My rebirth into Empathy was entirely thanks to my friends.

Trust, who I met when we were both drowning in darker times. She pulled me out of one of the worst mental and emotional ruts I'd ever experienced. She was Anger, then, and I was still Insecurity.

Loyalty, who managed to transform my multi-faceted anxiety into confidence. She showed me the strength that I didn't even know I had within myself.

Integrity, who constantly reassured me that I was not alone, and that I had more talent to offer than I'd dared to admit to myself. He allowed me to shed my worries when it came to friendship security, and he always made me feel like I was seen, even when I felt silly.

Compassion, who I clicked with immediately upon meeting her. She understands me and my psyche on a fundamental level, because she was once Insecurity, too.

Faith, who taught me that being scorned by those in the past should not shake my beliefs. She brought a light into my life that I'd not known that I needed, and I will thank her for that for the rest of my days.

Stability, who's been with me longer than anyone else. She was the first genuine friend that I'd ever had, back when Insecurity was the only identity I thought I'd ever wear. Her kindness was the one thing that gave me the hope that ultimately kept me alive.

I would not be here, would not be Empathy, if it were not for them.

They may not realize just how much I love them or how grateful I am, no matter how often I tell them.

I tell them so so so often.

I only hope they know how deeply it runs, how much I care for them, how lucky I feel to be their friend, how incredible they are to me, how quickly I'd shed blood if they only needed it.

I'd say, "I've truly never known a kindness like this before. I've never had a circle of people who've cared so deeply for me until you. You all make me feel like staying alive was worth it. That I walked away from dying at my own hand and into a different kind of light. Thank you."

but it's not normal to say these things, so instead I say, "I love you guys" "Thank you for being so cool" "I really appreciate you all"

and I just hope that they all know what I mean.

One day I'll find a way to tell them. One day.

[hello-sweetheart]

Steddie fae!au

Fae!Steve who is changling. Who used to be a little more malicious with his tricks as a young teen, but now is just a bit mischievous as most. Harmless, really. But he has a questionable hobby…

Some people collect action figures, comic book, ties, but Steve? He collects names, okay! He doesn’t do anything with them, promise, but he likes to collect them. And his job as a barista ensures that he has an impressive roster of names.

“Hi, welcome to Upside Down Coffee. May I have your name?

“Estelle.”

Steve, eyes gleaming with excitement, “Ooh, that’s a beautiful name. I hadn’t had the pleasure to meet someone with that name until now.” And the lady blushes at his flirting, leaving a few bucks in his jar.

And then meets Eddie who refuses to give him his name. He doesn’t know if it’s deliberate or not. And he never misses the chance to flirt with him, mistaking his flushed cheeks from being flustered, but really it’s frustration.

“Hi, welcome! May I have your name?”

“You can put me down as Eddie, sweetheart.”

Steve: >:(

“Hi! May I have your name?”

“Just Eddie will do.” He winks.

Steve: >:(

“Hi, welcome back! May I have your name?”

“Come on, bright eyes, dont you remember me?” Eddie pouts.

“Well,” he bats his eyelashes, “I was hoping you’d give me your real first name.”

“God no, it’s atrocious. Trust me, Princess, I’ll spare you.”

Steve: >:(

Steve doesn’t know this but Eddie is half fae. He knows what Steve is trying to do, and finds it hilarious to give him the run around. Besides, he’s so cute when he furiously writes down ‘Eddie’ on his cup with that little frown creasing his brow.

[tyriq-edits]

No one:

Absolutely fucking no one:

My folklore obsessed brain at 4 am: Hey so you know the roman Myth of Romulus and Remus? What about a Megop AU with Megatron as Mars/Ares, Orion Pax as Rhea Silvia and Bumblebee and Cliffjumper as Romulus and Remus?

[starrystevie]

"what's that?" dustin asks one night, eyes zeroed in on steve's chest.

confused, he glances down to where his button up has opened a bit at the neckline, not seeing anything on his skin other than the chain around his neck and bits of chest hair.

"what's what, henderson?"

the chain is simple silver, and at the bottom hidden under his shirt is a ring. he was gifted one of eddie's when they made whatever they were official. eddie let him pick, let steve trail his fingers feather light over his hands and over heavy silver until he found one he liked.

"you gonna pick one in this century?" eddie teased, looking up at him from under his lashes, smirking in the way that gives steve butterflies.

"this is an important decision," steve murmured out in a low voice, his light touch sending shivers down eddie's spine. "i can't just settle on one."

he ends up with a mood ring, one that eddie swore he only had because he needed something on his otherwise bare hand but steve knows it's because he thought it looked mysterious. sliding it off his finger is easy, placing a kiss on the pale bit of skin left behind is even easier.

it doesn't fit on his finger, not even close. he could barely squeeze it onto his pinkie but even then they had to use strawberry lube to get it off after it gets stuck.

"you don't have to wear it," eddie said, defeated with his big brown eyes breaking steve's heart into pieces.

but the thing is, steve is a little more than head over heels for him. he'd do anything to make eddie happy, make him feel loved, and being offered a ring in the first place had him feeling like he could fly. he wanted to show it off, flaunt it around like it was more than a mood ring because it was.

just because his fingers were too big didn't mean he couldn't keep the ring on him at all times. which is how he ended up with it on the simple silver chain around his neck.

the night he showed eddie for the first time, crawling up the bed shirtless to push him into the pillows with a searing kiss, was a night he wouldn't soon forget. eddie stared up at him with something that looked like love dancing behind his eyes as the ring dangled between them, glinting in the moonlight coming in through the bedroom window.

"you're wearing it?" eddie's voice was soft, reverent, as he took a hand up to cover the ring with his hand, pushing it into steve's chest right above his heart. he bent down to give eddie another kiss, relishing in the quick bite of pain that comes from the pressure of him pushing the metal into his chest.

"of course i'm wearing it, babe," steve said against his lips with a smile. "not gonna be able to get me to take it off now."

true to his word, steve never takes it off unless absolutely necessary. he wears it in his sleep, when he slides in behind eddie and curls around him. he wears it to work under his shirts, the metal warm against his skin as it thumps along with his heartbeat. he wears it around the house, when they go out on dates, when he showers. he wears it when he knows eddie will see the outline of it peeking through a tight shirt, driving him crazy.

it becomes habit for eddie to find it, fiddle with it over steve's clothes while they watch tv on the couch. they'll be pressed up against each other, limbs entwined, with his hand directly over the ring, rising and falling with every breath steve takes.

wearing it at all times, however, seems to be causing a bit of a problem. one that even dustin can see.

"don't be obtuse," he tuts as if he was chastising a child, "who gave you a bruise on your chest?"

"what are you talking about, i don't have a bruise on my-"

steve rolls his eyes and goes to the bathroom, flicking on the overhead light and pushing his chest out to get as close the mirror as possible. sure enough, sitting right above his heart, is a barely there bruise. it's a little green, a little brown, but definitely there.

there's something to be said about having eddie bruised above his heart. something to be said about having the indent of his ring pressed into his skin where he's the most vulnerable. the place where he had to learn how to take his armor off to let eddie see in the first place.

steve looks between the bruise and his face, back and forth and back again and watches as his smile grows wide, grows soft around the edges, grows into something that is vaguely eddie shaped which somehow makes it grow even softer.

he can hear eddie get home, the front door slamming as he shouts a too loud welcome to dustin and drops his toolbox onto the floor. his heart thuds a little bit like it always does when he realizes eddie is nearby, and he thinks if he could look close enough, he'd see his eddie shaped bruise jump along with it.

carefully, steve strokes his fingers over the discoloration, presses down just enough to feel it zing through his nerves like the lightning that eddie himself is. he watches as the skin turns pale before blooming back to life again.

steve thinks there's something there that he can't put his finger on. something thrumming through his veins that he can't give a name to.

"baby, you've got to come see this!" he yells into the living room.

something that he has all the time in the world with eddie to eventually figure out.

crossposted on twitter here