#Tried experimenting w brushes AGAIN because i feel my art is not good enough

[ender-goo]

"This is who i am."

These two are gonna be the end of me i swear

[prose-for-hire]

Always read your tea-leaves

Pairing: Giles x reader

Request: Requested by me! Reader comes and drinks tea on an afternoon with Giles every week. He soon finds out that reader hates tea and has just been doing it to spend time with him.

A/n: I had an ask asking if I included any personal experience in my fics, I hate tea so this is as explicitly autobiographical as my reader inserts will get (...that I’ll admit to anyway lol)💖💖

You adored Giles. You think now, looking back on it, you always had. He rendered you somewhat flustered and bashful when you realised you harboured feelings for him though. Which was wholly unlike you.

You were kind and polite but you weren’t usually afraid of speaking your mind or voicing your thoughts. Most people saw you as an open book and with your friends you definitely were.

But, most recently, with him you had been concerned of making the “correct impression”. Wanting him to think you were smart and witty. Had good humour and weren’t ridiculously shallow and watched a lot of tv. Which, he already knew you were guilty of and didn’t mind in the slightest - in fact he liked it because it gave him an excuse to watch with you.

It had fast become a routine of yours. A cherished moment you and he shared that could just be your own. He had invited you one afternoon to come over, he offered to brew one of his special teas. The kind that took a while to make rather than just shoving a tea bag in there and hoping for the best. There was some tiny sieve involved or something.

You had expected the entire gang to be invited but you realised it had just been you. Your heart skipped a beat, in fact it must have skipped several - you were sure it was loud enough to wake the dead. But you sorely hoped that it wouldn’t, hoping for uninterrupted time with the man you were interested in.

You loved his mind. His intelligence. That soothing tone he used, especially around you. He was a complete gentleman. So much so you didn’t realise just how much feeling he held for you.

Giles was in love. A feeling that he had become consumed by, in the very best way. He submitted to it wholly and just wished he had the courage to admit it. He wasn’t sure he would be pushing it, risking your friendship if he did and thus the dynamic of the entire group. You were older than the others but still a big part of the group so he didn’t wish to ruin this friendship he shared with you. It was too special.

You smiled and he asked what flavour tea you would prefer, listing the options. You decided to tell him that you trusted him and he should choose which made him smile at you.

The truth was in your excitement about being invited to his house, you had seemingly forgot something very important. You didn’t like tea. No matter what the flavour, temperature or how ethically sourced the leaves were - the taste just didn’t sit right.

In fact you couldn’t stand the stuff. You never had.

However, you didn’t want him to think you were rude or even decide not to invite you into his home this way again. So you just didn’t mention it. Instead, when he returned you thanked him in a perhaps slightly over exaggerated manner.

Not even the horrible taste of the tea could dampen the mood though, you and Giles discussed everything. Books and research. Mythology and demon lore. Even the latest tv show you had been enjoying that he now knew more of the plot than he knew what to do with. He adored hearing it though and you appeared to brighten when he encouraged you further.

You had been trying to avoid mentioning the tv but you had become so relaxed in his presence you couldn’t help gush. He put you at ease. He made you feel as if you were the only person in the world. In his world. And, on these afternoons you were. He adored them. Looked forward every week. Began to miss you as soon as you said your goodbyes.

It became a regular thing. You talking and pretending to drink tea. It was worth it to have him sitting so close. His attention was yours. That sweet affection growing with every syllable passed between you.

“I, ah, do enjoy your company” he murmured the most recent afternoon you shared. It had taken every scrap of courage he could muster to admit such a thing. As if he was professing too much even by thinking it. But he was so relaxed by your side that he said it through a gentle sigh.

You practically glowed, turning to him and smiling. He loved your smile more than anything. He was sure nothing could ever replicate your smile, not art nor literature. Much less so the way seeing this smile made him feel. It was wholly unique to you and he felt almost blessed to be in your presence.

“I love spending time here!” You nodded with that small smile he became entranced by. You had never meant something more.

You wanted to pour your feelings. The way the affection you held ran so deep. How you wanted to wrap your arms around him in a never ending embrace. You were sat beside him on the sofa now and you had both subconsciously leaned in. Your faces close together, you could feel his body heat radiating against you in his proximity. You wished to lean further still.

If you had moved even a fraction forwards, you would have brushed against him. Your face against his. A heavenly graze against his lips that would surely change the course of the future. Together you could rewrite prophecies. Bend fate to your will. It would be only you and him against it all. 

Your eyes fluttered to his lips before looking back to his eyes. You saw the way the corners upturned into a wry smile. One that he always had in your presence. Lips that spoke so eloquently. That spoke to your very mind. Words that made you feel safe. Tone that could be so strong and yet so tender at the same time.

You were about to reach for him, your hand started to move to slide against the side of his face but something made him jump up. The tea. He had forgotten about the tea. 

He left your side and you felt such loss. To have him ripped from your side, the potential of that moment left you simultaneously ridiculously hopeful and empty at the lack of contact with his skin at the same time. You were sure you had seen something in his eyes though, some glistening intention that he wished to kiss you too.

“Well, the-the tea should have finished brewing by now” he said, excusing himself and leaving you so disappointed. Not just because you were now faced with a further disappointment in liquid form.

He shook his head at himself as he busied in the kitchen. He had so wanted to kiss you. Pull you into him with such unwavering passion it almost made him dizzy. You made him feel so much. Even a minute in your presence turned him into a lovesick fool.

He brought the tea out and handed it to you. He sat further away from you now on a different seat. Having to distance himself or else it would be too much.

You couldn’t even trust your face to hide it though. It was the worst tasting one yet. So much so that when he turned his back you had to lean in and pour it into one of his houseplants. You silently apologised to it but it was either the plant or you. A true ethical decision had to be made, for the good of your blossoming relationship.

Your afternoons became interrupted once Giles received a house guest in the form of a defanged vampire. You still came to spend time with him but it wasn’t as intimate as it had been before. The only plus side was that he didn’t make as much tea because he was either arguing with spike or making him meals.

In fact the week previous you hadn’t even come to visit (through no fault of your own you had a prior engagement). But this left Giles sorely missing you and hating Spike even more. Not only because he was forced into watching Passions with him but because he feared that you felt neglected by him. That your friendship wasn’t what he wanted anymore. Which just wasn’t true.

There was a Scooby meeting and Spike was involved only so much as he was living out of the house and the tv was in the same room. You were supposed to be there but you were having to travel to Giles’ from the other side of town.

Giles was in a sour mood. Couldn’t make the move he so desperately wished he could. He just wanted you to be comfortable. To be happy and to feel just as strongly as him. He was sure you would have expressed an interest if you felt something. You were usually so bold, he admired your nature so much. 

Giles sighed and cleaned his glasses as he was in deep thought. His mind only ever wrapped around you at the moment. The close proximity you held but at such a disappointing distance. The Scoobies noticed this sigh and as always immediately pick him up on it. He didn’t even have to say anything, they just knew it was about you and your mutual pining.

“Well, have you even tried to make a move?” Buffy questioned with a little squint.

“We drink tea together...” He said vaguely which made the others laugh. He looked up, frowning at their reactions.

“There’s no way!”

“Well, ah, we do...” He said, putting his glasses back on and squinting back around the room at why this would be such a ridiculous notion. 

“Y/n hates tea, Giles” Willow answered honestly. She had to sit through one of your rants about it when she had offered it to you once.

“Yeah, even I know that. Doesn’t touch the stuff called me a freak of nature for even suggesting-” Spike began with a shrug, he didn’t even look up from the tv as he spoke.

“I think they called you that for offering a “secret ingredient”-”

“Blood compliments everything I’ll have you know” Spike pointed her way and she grimaced at how gross he was.

“Will you both stop babbling and allow me to think straight! Th-they don’t drink tea? Ever?” He asked, a furrow deepening on his brow. This meant something. Of course, it must do. But just what it meant, he couldn’t be entirely sure. He knew what he hoped it meant though.

“Never ever”

“Not unless...” Willow tailed off and everyone gave him a look as if to hint at what they meant. They were implying that his hopes were true. You liked him and took any excuse you could to spend time with him. 

“But they are usually so open about everything, especially matters of the heart”

“Well, love makes you do the whacky”

“They couldn’t possibly... hold such affection, ah, could they?” Giles, uncharacteristically pondered aloud which made Spike scoff. It couldn’t have been more obvious if you had a t-shirt printed that said ‘I heart Giles’ on it. In fact, the vampire was sure you probably had one. 

While everyone was talking Xander had moved towards the corner of the room where Giles’ usually dead looking plants looked more vibrant than ever. He was inspecting them. He had seen one too many movies and figured he might know the true extent to your tea drinking.

“Well, they might have mentioned something...”

“And I think I figured who’s been drinking your tea, G-man. Check out the little corner of horrors” Xander said, gesturing with his head at the jungle of plants. You had been feeding his plants with the tea. 

“And you thought the potted plants had magically started to grow. They’ve been bloody drinking tea!” Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes. But Giles wasn’t listening anymore. He was smiling at the idea that you had been pretending to enjoy drinking tea just to spend time with him. 

Just as this was revealed, you walked in closing the door behind you and calling into the room, “Hey guys sorry I’m... late” you tailed off glancing around the room. There was an unusual vibe as if 

“We’ll give you some space...”

“I won’t” Spike said unhelpfully, crossing his arms and smirking ready to watch a potential social disaster in the making. 

“You bloody well will” Giles warned. When the vampire didn’t move and Giles looked as if he may pop a blood vessel, Buffy sighed and hauled Spike into the bathroom with the others where they would sit and wait in their hurry to give you space.

“You don’t like tea?” He asked, barely hiding the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Oh... so you found out about that? I’m sorry, I was just so...” You nodded at yourself. It was long since time to admit this, “I was so excited that you wanted to spend time with me alone that I forgot and then it had been too long... I didn’t want you to think any less of me” You said slowly, looking at the ground.

“I, uh, just wish I had known your feelings. It would have made it much easier to gauge whether you were interested”

“Giles-” You said, taking his hand in yours. You liked the way they looked clasped together in this way. 

“Rupert, please” he offered comfortingly, rubbing his thumb against your hand which made you smile down at your entwined hands.

“Rupert, I love you... I think I always have”

“And I love you” He admitted, one hand sliding up your upper arm. The other moving to cup your cheek. This had been everything you had both wanted for so long. You and him. Like this.

You leaned in, catching his lips with yours. He grasped the hair at the base of your skull, willing you closer. This kiss was the sweetest, it tasted better than you ever could have imagined. It brightened your soul. Made your heart beat more rhythmically. In perfect timing with his. 

You parted briefly, but he couldn’t help pressing light kisses against your cheek, trailing a path to the corner of your mouth as you spoke. He wished to cherish you in the way he felt you so deserved. Couldn’t move from your contact, not now he knew how you felt this as deeply as him. It was real. So real and he couldn’t waste a moment of it.

“We should have read our tea-leaves” You smiled, you were so sure that they would have told you that you were meant for each other. It would have at least meant that drinking your water-weight in tea would have been worth it. Either way though, of course it was worth it. Because it meant you spent time with him. Got to know him in this way.

He nodded gently but he didn’t wish to speak now. He just wished to show you his devotion. His lips had barely moved from your skin as your shared admittance enveloped you. He caught your lips again, such tenderness evident in his kisses. He wished for you to feel just how passionately he loved you. He fit so perfectly against you.

“Can we come out now?!” Buffy shouted from the bathroom where the others were all crushed in together but neither of you heard her. You were too wrapped up in each other.

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day Four

Prompt: Rope Play w/ Neji

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Rope Play, Praise, Soft Dom, Sex || Characters: Neji Hyuuga, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

"Don't move, (Y/N). I've already told you twice." Neji's irritated voice sounded from above you, followed by a sigh, "It will only make it hurt."

"But what if I want that~?" You teased with a smirk on your face and even though you couldn't see your boyfriend through the blindfold, you could feel his steely gaze.

He scoffed, "and how many times must I remind you, if you move while I'm tying, it will only result in your limbs going numb. Is that really the pain you want? You're well aware how long it takes to get you out of my rope. Now just hush and keep still, beloved."

No matter how annoyed Neji was with your antics, he always reminded you that his words weren't out of ire. The pet name tacked on to the end of his mini lecture was proof enough of that. So, you heed his warning and tried to stay as still as possible while the velvety rope was wound around your body expertly. Truly, he wasn't kidding when he said it took a while to get you out of his ropes, but it took even longer to get in them. Neji was an expert ropes master by now and you were his prized canvas. The shapes he created on your body were his masterpieces, each created with the utmost love. His fingers led the rope deftly around you, going even as far as undoing parts just to redo them. Everything had to be perfect, it's what you deserve after all.

As his hands deftly wound around your wrists, he pressed soft kisses into your neck. The kisses were light and barely there, until he made it to the one spot he knew you were most sensitive. When he reaches it, he licked your neck before sucking on the skin. You moaned much to his approval and the hand that wasn't holding the rope brushed up your arm, tracing over the material already wound around it. Ever the secret artist, Neji left an array of hickies along the back of your neck and shoulders. Those were definitely going to be a problem for future you. Right now though, you chose to focus on the rope that was finally being finished off after what seemed like an eternity.

"You're gorgeous," his tone was so much softer than before, every word dripping in adoration for you to the point where it made your face heat up, "Are you ready to see, my love?"

"Yes please."

With your answer, he untied your blindfold, light returning to your vision as you took in the sight of yourself in the mirror. His rope work was never something to laugh at. Hell, he never did anything short of perfection and this was clear when you took in every carefully planned knot and twist. Neji brushed his fingers against your hair, just barely touching you. In scenes like this he was always nearly afraid to touch you, as if you were made of glass. The heart shape left in the middle of your chest was a nice touch, usually he only did shapes with sharp edges and right corners. Meaning, he went out of his comfort zone this time and the thought was endearing. Another kiss was left on the unabused side of your neck, his hands wandering over his handiwork and lingering on the places where your flesh bulged in between the ropes.

After an inhale of breath Neji spoke again, his voice deeper now, "You look absolutely intoxicating."

His hands met yours and intertwined your fingers together. Next, your lips met, first in gentle embrace which quickly became more feverish and desperate. Sitting still and waiting as the material was wound around you, only moving when he asked, it was downright torture on a horny bitch. And so when you finally met his lips it was hard to hold back, you just wanted to show him how much you appreciated him making you this pretty. Though if you would voice it out loud with words he'd be quick to assure you that it was you who made the rope pretty, not the other way around. His hands wandered down to your tied together legs and gently pushed you to lean on your side. The new angle gave him access to your wetness from behind and he took advantage of it. He fingers moved up and down, smirking slightly at just how soaked you were from his tying.

A heavy sigh left your lips and you embraced the position more, fully laying down on your side. Neji's free hand continued to run over your skin while the other slowly slipped inside of your heat. He slowly fucked his finger into you before adding another. The rope on your thighs dug in as you tried to separate them to no avail. Another finger invaded you, this time curling and you moaned into the bedsheets.

"Let me hear you, my love. Your sounds are too delectable to hide."

His words alone had you moaning again, this time giving in and lifting your head. Your hips moved back onto his fingers before they completely left you altogether. Not evening giving you enough time to voice your contempt, Neji was helping you position yourself face down ass up on the bed. Or, at least, as ass up as you could get considering you couldn't bend your knees. Still, the sight was intoxicating to him and he attentively put pillows under your hips to help. Your tied arms outstretched in front of you gripped the sheets as Neji slowly slid into you. He bottomed out and groaned, hands running up and down the ropes along your hips. The feeling of him was always breathtaking, stretching you so pleasantly and thrusting solely to pleasure you. His first pace was always agonizingly slow, leaving you breathing heavily and nearly begging for more.

But Neji would never make you beg, no, he was far too infatuated with you to force you to beg on nights like these. Instead, he would whisper more sweet nothings into your ear, playing with your tightly tied breasts. It was good for distracting you for a while until he picked up the pace a bit. His hips kept moving, always trying to find that special spot of yours. And when he did he wouldn't leave it alone. You gasped and pushed your hips back into his and he knew he found it. That's when the show really began. His pace quickened and Neji's grip on your hips tightened, lifting you up to meet his cock. Both of your moans and pants mixed in the air between curses and prayers. The obscene sound of your hips meeting only makes you feel hotter as he kept abusing your g spot, practically daring you to go ahead and cum. Finally, you gave in to the suggestion, yelling out his name as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm shook your whole body, toes curling and pussy clenching. Neji was lucky to be able to fuck you through your orgasm but before you come down he's spiraling down his own climax. He grunts and holds your hips flush to his as his cock twitches inside of you. The aftermath is blissful as you two pant almost in unison, Neji slumped against your back. After regaining the willpower in his legs he slowly pulls out of you, admiring how his cum looks dripping out of you, contrasting the dark color of the rope. It doesn't last long though as he knows you need to be untied. With that he sets about the task, unraveling the rope at only a slightly faster pace than before.

"You were heavenly. I wish I could replay it on command. You're a work of art, beloved. You took it so well too."

His words barely stopped giving you praises as he untied and unwound your body from its aesthetic cage. To add to the praise, with every inch of skin he released, he'd kiss it tenderly. Most nights you found yourself lost in the hazy after sex thoughts about how he could kiss you constantly yet still talk so much. Not like you minded, having Neji talk was something you rarely were able to experience much in public. Given his quiet, stoic nature it was a stark contrast, a very welcome one. Especially given the topic his words were about. Your legs finally free, you stretched them out while Neji rubbed them, savoring in the indents the rope left. His hands slid up your legs and continued the process on your torso, deftly untying the knots.

Once you were finally free of the restraints you cupped your hand around Neji's cheek and pulled him in for a kiss. Now that you were basking in your post orgasm, sleep began to hit you. It felt so pleasant to be so satisfied and sleepy. As if all was right with the world and really, if Neji was by your side it was alright. His hands cleaned you up with a warm washcloth that you weren't exactly sure when he got. Still, the action was endearing, because heaven knows you did not want to get out of bed now. While he returned the washcloth you snuggled underneath the covers, reveling in his reappearance. As if he'd be able to resist coming back to you. Neji climbed into your waiting embrace and returned it happily as his arms wrapped around you. Sweet kisses were pressed to the top of your head as sleep quickly overtook the both of you. If every night you could fall asleep like this, that would truly be the best life.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :)

[wordsablaze]

12~ i’ll be your lighthouse

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: i didn’t think i’d finish this in time but i felt like spiting that spoiler so happy valentine’s !!

@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @havenoffandoms @lasaga666 @mayastormborn

previous chapter

-

“Ow, Scorpion!” Eskel grumbles as said horse headbutts him. 

It’s the third time she’s done so in the last two minutes and at this point, it’s safe to conclude she’s trying to complain about Jaskier taking too long. Eskel would agree with her but he doesn’t actually know how long it’s supposed to take anyone to purchase several items at a tailor’s so he sticks to waiting. 

And waiting. 

And waiting.

And being headbutted by Scorpion twice more.

And waiting.

And-

“Eskel!” 

He turns his head to see Jaskier beaming at him, a small bag slung over his shoulder. It takes him a moment to realise what’s changed but he feels like a fool when he does for the bard is now wearing an entirely new outfit and it’s such a blatant contrast from his previous faded blue look that he has no idea how he nearly missed it.

“Well, what do you think?” Jaskier asks, his eyes bright. 

Eskel blinks. “It’s very different.” 

And it is. Although his chemise is a dark grey that’s only one shade away from looking like a shadow, both his doublet and his breeches are a deep red, decorated with spiralling silver patterns and black buttons that look far too delicate to function properly. 

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Thank you, darling, I hadn’t noticed.” 

“And it looks, uh, very striking,” Eskel offers, still internally trying to get over how well the colour somehow makes his eyes seem even brighter. 

Thankfully, Jaskier doesn’t seem too bothered by disjointed feedback, turning his attention to Scorpion when she steps towards him, gently running his fingers down her mane. “Sorry I took so long but not to worry, dear girl, I found you some apples.”

Eskel watches, transfixed, as Jaskier pulls an apple out of his pocket and offers it up to her, this time with no hesitation or guilt whatsoever; it’s oddly relieving to know the two are on such good terms for some reason.

“I really am sorry I took so long, Rafal was just finishing something else up - a spectacular dress I must say - and wouldn’t let me leave until I bought two sets even though I told him several times that someone was waiting for me!”

Chuckling, Eskel shakes his head. “It’s okay, we didn’t mind the wait. Especially not if it means you look so much more, uh…”

Jaskier smiles. “Like myself? Like a bard? Like someone you’d wish to be seen with? Like a true master of the liberal arts?” 

Eskel starts nodding, only to frown. Before he can voice his complaint at Jaskier’s phrasing, Jaskier clears his throat. “So, should we get going? You mentioned travelling north, I believe. Piana would be the obvious next place to stop, though if you intend not to appreciate being able to sleep under a solid roof for as long as possible, then I suppose we could simply follow the river?”

“We can stop at an inn,” Eskel says first, a little confused. 

“Great! I’m almost certain I’ve never ruined any marriages there so it should work out perfectly. Shall we?” Jaskier asks, holding out a hand.

Eskel is too busy wondering how Jaskier breezes through conversation so smoothly to catch up in time and unfortunately, he only figures he’s missed something when the air turns sour around them. 

Cursing internally, he blinks himself back into the present. It’s only a second later that he notices Jaskier pulling his hand back. He reaches out to grab it before Jaskier gets the wrong impression, gently entwining their fingers. “Hey, what happened?”

Jaskier exhales slowly. “I thought for a moment that you might have… changed your mind. About the- this,” he manages, squeezing Eskel’s hand.

“Not for as long as I live, bardling,” Eskel promises; he’s more than proud of the small, honey-scented smile he receives in reply.

Scorpion headbutts him again, at which point he remembers what he was going to ask. “You said you only bought two sets?”

“Yes?” Jaskier frowns. “I did try telling him I only really needed one of each thing but Rafal was so adamant, you should have seen him! A lecture on fashion to rival my own, truly! But I honestly didn’t mean to-”

“No no, Jaskier, wait,” Eskel interrupts, “It’s okay. I’m glad you got more than one, that was the point after all. I just meant to ask if you’d like Scorpion to carry the bag, it doesn’t seem heavy and we’re both walking so it’s no trouble for her.”

Jaskier’s mouth forms almost a perfect circle before his cheeks flush and he nods. “Oh. Well, that would be lovely. You are most certainly the kindest man to grace the continent!”

Eskel can’t help wondering what kind of men Jaskier is used to dealing with if he thinks such simple compassion is so difficult to encounter. There’s one obvious answer but he’s certain Jaskier’s expectations are rooted in far more than just his time with Geralt so he holds off on cursing him this time. 

He also briefly wonders if there’s anything in the bag at all, it’s so light in comparison to when he has to carry his armour anywhere, but Jaskier hadn’t smelt like he was lying so he doesn’t risk worrying him by asking as he attaches it to Scorpion.

“Could I-?” Jaskier cuts himself off, then takes a deep breath and tries again. “Could I have my lute back?”

“You don’t need to ask,” Eskel replies, easily handing it to him. 

Jaskier nods, visibly relieved, and slings the lute over his shoulder where the bag had been. Though it seems as though the bag had been a substitute for the lute case if the way Jaskier’s whole frame seems to relax is anything to go by. It reminds him of how comforting it is to feel his swords at his back and he’s glad that Jaskier had felt confident enough to ask for such comfort. 

With that, they set off, Eskel keeping Scorpion’s reins in one hand and Jaskier’s hand in the other. It’s a little odd to have both his hands occupied but he can’t say he’s complaining. If he’s honest, he’s doing the exact opposite of complaining. 

“Why red?” Eskel asks eventually. 

Jaskier jumps, his grip on Eskel’s hand fleetingly tightening to an almost painful level. He chuckles softly as his pulse slows to its normal speed. “Quite simply, darling, it reminded me of you. I thought it would only be fair for my first new look to reflect the one who prompted its existence.”

Eskel has to close his eyes for a moment in order to process that. He’s not sure what he’d been imagining - something to do with poetic contrasts or rebuilding, perhaps - but such casual sincerity hadn’t even registered as a possibility and he’s pretty certain the newfound warm twisting of his stomach relates to being honoured. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “but you really didn’t have to.” 

Jaskier turns to him with an eyebrow raised. “And you didn’t have to delay our travels in the first place but here we are. Now stop rejecting my gratitude or I will force you to listen to it in every single tavern we stop by.”

“Aren’t you already doing that?” Eskel points out.

“That doesn’t count!” Jaskier argues. “That one is beneficial for both of us.”

It probably is, but Eskel has a feeling their reasoning would be rather different. He doesn’t say anything else, though, just gently tugs Jaskier close until their shoulders are brushing and appreciates the way his breath hitches before he relaxes again, smelling sweetly of silk and sunshine. 

He’s never before been in such close contact with someone for so long but it’s a pleasant change. Jaskier starts humming after a while, swinging their hands in tune with whatever he’s singing in his head, and Eskel has to force himself not to distract or interrupt him because good gods the experience is so soothing. 

Predictably, Jaskier freezes once he stops humming, looking for all the world like a kitten caught pushing something off a table. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t need to apologise,” Eskel finishes for him with a smile that he wishes could be as soft as he intends it to be. 

“Right,” Jaskier agrees, then laughs. “You haven’t heard that one before, have you?”

Eskel shakes his head. “Should I recognise it?”

“I would be surprised if you did,” Jaskier says, “for I got it from a crumbling tome written in elder that I stole from an ancient crypt deep within the forests.” 

“You what?” Eskel frowns, not sure whether or not he should be concerned that Jaskier is inadvertently summoning vengeful spirits or the like with whatever it is he’s using to pass the time. 

It takes Jaskier a minute to stop laughing. “Okay, I lied. It wasn’t buried in a crypt and I didn’t steal anything… that time. But it was from an old tome written in elder.” 

Eskel sighs but gives in and laughs when Scorpion nudges him, causing Jaskier to grin happily.  “Clearly one of you thought it was amusing, what brilliant taste she has! Hey, that deserves better than an eye-roll!”

“Perhaps,” Eskel admits, almost guilty about said eye-roll. Almost. 

Jaskier snorts. “We both know you’re secretly amused too. So, do you want to hear it? Do you know elder?”

Eskel shrugs. “A little. Probably not enough to understand your song, though.”

“We’ll see!” 

And so they do. Except Eskel doesn’t see because he understands perhaps a dozen of the couple hundred words Jaskier sings, but it sounds enchanting all the same. It also feels enchanting because Jaskier taps out the rhythm onto the back of Eskel’s hand as he sings and he’d be lying if he said his whole arm doesn’t feel the resulting warmth. 

He’s not sure what to make of the words themselves; Jaskier’s tone is filled with hope and agony and something wistful that sounds as if it’s been plucked from the dreams of fallen angels. His voice never wavers in the slightest and yet there is an unease to his singing, a promise that threatens to be broken, a wish stuck between being fulfilled and being destroyed. It’s beautiful and it’s painful and it’s nothing he’s ever heard before.

Jaskier is breathless when he stops, face flushed and eyes sparkling, and Eskel wishes he knew more of what had been sung so he could adequately express his admiration. “That was magnificent,” he whispers finally.

“It is,” Jaskier agrees after catching his breath, his grin so wide it looks like it’s about to break free of his face altogether. “It was years ago but it feels like just yesterday that I learned it. I don’t even understand every word but it still makes sense together, like a mystery that can only be solved if it’s being sung.”

Eskel has no idea what he means but it sounds poetic and seems to fit him perfectly so he just hums in acknowledgement and lets silence wash over them as they continue. Not that the silence lasts long.

“Why do you wear red then?” Jaskier asks.

Unprepared for such a question, Eskel draws a blank. “It hides the bloodstains?”

Their hands being firmly tied together means he’s forced to stop walking when Jaskier freezes on the spot, his face a comical epitome of shock.

“Gods, Jaskier, I- I was joking. It’s not really- It’s just a nice colour,” Eskel blurts, torn between laughing and cursing at himself for being so thoughtless. 

He swears he can literally see Jaskier’s exhale. It only takes a few moments for him to recover and use his index finger to poke Eskel’s chest. “Don’t ever joke about bloodstains like that. I am well aware that you witchers like to think you can get injured and bleed out and stitch yourselves up as you please but you can’t. You can’t and you shouldn’t and I swear if I was in charge of things, I would have it outlawed to- to not take care of yourselves. You horrible, selfless, insensitive, beautiful beings. No! Ugh, that was meant to be an insult.”

Eskel is still torn between laughing and cursing but now he’s aware of a much more tempting third option, which is to wrap his arms around Jaskier and hold him close for a moment. A long moment. Several long moments, really. 

Jaskier buries his head in Eskel’s neck so Eskel lifts one arm to curl his hand around the back of Jaskier’s head, gently running his hand through his hair. Jaskier shivers at the touch but only holds on tighter so Eskel takes that as a sign to continue, waiting patiently as the wilting flowers in the distance between them fade into calmer waves of ink and rose and sunrise.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel murmurs.

Sighing softly, Jaskier pulls back. “No, I’m sorry. I…”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Eskel says, even though he would very much appreciate an explanation for such a fierce response. 

Jaskier shakes his head, brushing non-existent tears from his eyes. “I need you to know it wasn’t your fault… It was the... song. It’s a rather powerful tale and I forgot how hellish it is to convey. There are a lot of emotions involved in storytelling, you know?”

He doesn’t, not really.

And he wants to ask about the song, about whatever it is Jaskier had been singing about. He wants to ask what was being said and what the mystery entailed and why it was hellish to convey but the last thing he wants is for Jaskier to panic and spiral into guilt so he swallows his questions down.

“I can imagine,” he says, offering a smile.

Jaskier grins at that, raising both hands and placing them gently on either side of his face, his thumb stroking careful lines across his cheeks. “You have the sweetest smile, Eskel.”

When Eskel makes to pull back, Jaskier leans forward and draws him close until their noses are pressed together, his hands keeping his head where it is without hurting him even in the slightest. “Don’t run from my words, darling, they’re only the truth and they’ll catch up with you in the end.” 

“Why does that sound like it’s a threat?” Eskel asks, his throat strangely clogged. 

Laughing, Jaskier brushes his thumbs across Eskel’s cheeks again, this time tracing his scars. “It is a threat. I’m very threatening.” 

Eskel laughs. He hears Scorpion huff behind him and that only makes him laugh harder, Jaskier joining in until they’re both forced to let go of each other lest they topple over and hurt themselves. Well, falling over wouldn’t exactly hurt a witcher but Eskel doesn’t want to take any risks on the behalf of bards.

“Shut up, I can be threatening!” Jaskier exclaims, but he’s too busy trying to catch his breath from laughing too hard to sound as if he’s telling the truth. 

“Of course. I feel very threatened,” Eskel teases, but it’s not quite a lie. 

A part of him certainly feels threatened, the part that never before considered his smile sweet or his voice kind or his actions worthy of song. Though perhaps that’s a threat worth embracing, he thinks. Then Jaskier’s hand slips back into his and he decides it’s most definitely a threat worth embracing, with both arms wide open. 

Scorpion must agree with him for she nearly breaks his nose as she moves her head, forcing him to step closer to Jaskier until they’re back to their arms brushing as they walk, falling perfectly into step with one another.

“The murky depths of a hollow love, the lies that you see above… the surface…” 

Eskel groans as Jaskier starts singing again, still not remotely comfortable with hearing about himself so often, but both of them know it’s more of a performatory complaint because being immortalised in song is an honour he won’t refuse. 

He has no idea how Jaskier can walk and sing at the same time and he makes a mental note to pause for a break once the song is complete. The lyrics all but wash over him as they walk because he’s too focused on the way Jaskier keeps swinging their arms or tapping on his skin to keep himself in tune, and this time there's no subtle melancholy to watch out for.

“Be not afraid if danger is near…” 

He does glance sideways at that, though, because he’s pretty sure Jaskier had mentioned a siren as opposed to generic danger before, but Jaskier is grinning and winks at him when their eyes meet.

“For the rose of the wolves will hold your hand.” 

Eskel smiles back at that, tightening his grip on Jaskier’s hand. He doesn’t quite know how to convey that he feels the same way so he just raises an eyebrow. “I could have sworn that rhymed last time.”

Jaskier splutters in offence for a moment before elbowing him. “It’s not as though I’ll be singing that line in taverns, it wouldn’t be right for dozens of strangers to steal your lovely hands away.”

“Not to worry, bardling, It’s not a service I offer to just anyone,” Eskel laughs, frankly not convinced that anyone else would even be interested. 

“Well I intend to take full advantage.” Jaskier winks again. 

His face now all but aching from smiling for much longer than he’s used to, Eskel nods. “The pleasure will be all mine.”

Jaskier beams at him, his face still flushed from having sung for so long, and Eskel is absolutely sure that had their positions been reversed, he’d likely have sung that into a ballad of some sort.

“We should probably take a break,” Eskel says a couple minutes later once they reach a suitable place to stop, a small clearing visible not too far from the road.

As if on cue, Scorpion neighs and stops walking. 

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Jaskier chuckles. 

And when they settle to eat this time, they’re sat right beside one another, their elbows bumping and their knees knocking together every so often, and Eskel marvels at how something so new and unfamiliar and borderline threatening can also seem so right.

-

okay, i know it’s not quite valentine’s-worthy romance but there’s only one braincell between them and scorpion has it atm-

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher sideblog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.79

Running late to pick Curtis and Shiro up, Lance blamed Kosmo. The puppy making off with one of his shoes, while he was trying to find his missing pants. Curtis had sounded drunk, Shiro even more so. Lance hadn’t expected them to get plastered on their date, but with a rare night to themselves, he felt both of them totally deserved to relax. Promising to wait for them out the front of the hotel whose restaurant was where they’d gone for their date, neither of them were waiting out the front thanks to the light drizzling rain.

Heading into the lobby with his boyfriend, Keith unimpressed they were walking around in their “pyjamas” in such a rich looking place. They’d fallen into a doze cuddling after doing a little physical making up more than once. Lance’s hips were sore and his smile gentle towards his annoyed boyfriend. The vampire really loved it when Keith he’d him by his hips, and he really loved making up with his boyfriend. So that gentle smile was purely for Keith. Wearing sweats, he’d had to borrow because lord only knew where his pants, and oversized shirt in a hotel lobby made him feel like a dork. They were clearly underdressed when compared to the ornate Art Deco feel of the place. Sighing, Keith pulled out his phone, both of them moving out of the main thoroughfare to stand closer to the wall

“I’m gonna try calling Curtis again”

Lance nodded. The place really didn’t seem like they should walk further in. He wouldn’t be surprised if the receptionist had already called the cops on them, but all the money that went into such a fancy place didn’t really show on the outside with the rain coming in under the fronts plastic roofing. As Keith talked to Curtis, Lance’s smile started to waver. Not completely sure why, something pricked at his senses. The feeling annoying, as there seemed nothing wrong with their surrounds, and extra annoying as he couldn’t figure out why he was annoyed.

“They’re on their way. They went and sat in the lounge to wait for us thanks to the rain”

Lance almost thanked god out loud

“Babe?”

Humming, Lance pushed his smile back into place

“Sorry. I was totally zoning out”

Keith slipped his phone back in his pocket, Lance trying not to look as the small amount of weight tugged down Keith’s sweats. They’d already fooled around enough that now the couch and the bathroom were christened. He didn’t feel like he was in heat, but he could definitely appreciate Keith’s body, especially this hips showing above the hem of his sweats

“They could have at least texted”

Lance nodded, casting a glance around as he wondered where the hotel lounge was

“Babe?”

Whoops. He didn’t want Keith to worry over some niggling feeling he didn’t know how to explain

“I’m fine. Just tired”

“Are you sure? I mean...”

“I’m fine. Not even that sore... I mean, I’m not sore, but you know...”

Lance was blushing now. He could almost feel Keith’s hands on his hips. Maybe it was a kink? Yet, he only wanted Keith to do it, so he wasn’t sure it counted

“I know it’s harder on you than it is on me”

“Vampire stamina, babe. I’m okay. This place looks nice”

Keith frowned at the topic change, but went along with it

“It looks expensive”

“I don’t know how people feel comfortable in a place like this. I like the hotel we went to better”

“Mmm. Me too. Curtis did want things to be special. Their dinner probably cost what I make in a week”

Did Keith worry about that with him? That he couldn’t impress Lance with a low budget? Lance had his own money. He’d prefer something casual

“I don’t think I could do that. Spend that much on a meal. I’d rather get a room and room service”

“Do you want to do something like that for your birthday?”

Lance bit down his sigh. He didn’t want to discuss his birthday

“Can I think about it?”

“Sure... I get that you don’t like it, but... I want to do something with you”

Pidge and Hunk would probably want to do something

“I know. Please no 18 again parties. If Pidge and Hunk start on it, can you loop me in so I can not be there. Oh, there’s Shiro”

Curtis and Shiro were a welcome distraction. They were sober enough to walk straight, which was a relief

“Sorry! The rain started and Shiro was getting wet”

Curtis looked good. Both of them were suited up. Curtis had styled his hair a little differently thanks to his horn. The look suited him. The few flakes of dandruff on his shoulder were barely noticeable when you looked at Curtis as a whole being

“It’s fine. Can we go now?”

Ruffling Keith’s hair, Shiro laughing at Keith’s huffy tone

“You’ve got to get used to places like this one day. You can’t just take Lance to cheap hotels”

Keith deflated, Lance wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s waist

“Actually, he can. I really don’t mind where we go”

“Still. You do have a birthday coming up...”

“Lance would rather not talk about his birthday. It’s a sensitive subject when he doesn’t age”

Lance supposed he deserved that for confiding in Curtis. Shiro’s happiness didn’t waver, the hunter nodding understandingly

“I suppose after a while it gets repetitive. We always baked a cake for Keith’s birthday when I could. He always ate it. No matter how much he disliked it”

“Fuck off”

His little anger loaf wasn’t impressed. Lance keeping his arm around him as they moved towards the door.

That was because Shiro had made it his cake for him, Keith would always eat it like it was the best cake ever made. Lance knew those feelings well. This year Hunk would want to bake a cake for Keith, so Lance’d have to let him know not to. As Shiro brushed past him, Lance caught a whiff of vampire clinging to him. That certain undeadness with hints of blood... Now he knew what’d been bugging him. The feeling like he’d been being watched from far away. Stumbling his steps as he tried to look over his shoulder, Keith kept him upright

“Babe?”

Lance couldn’t bring up the topic now. Not if they were being watched and listened to

“It’s fine. Just making sure they didn’t call security on us”

A little white lie wouldn’t cause any drama. Maybe the vampire worked here as something like a waiter. Shiro’s neck showed, no vampire bites obvious. Confidently, Shiro bought his mistruth

“They’d hardly call security on us. Though you two are underdressed. I hope we didn’t disturb anything...”

The way Shiro said “anything” meant sex... Grumpy Keith didn’t appreciate his brother’s comment

“It’s the middle of the night. We were tying to sleep. Don’t be gross”

“You knew you had to pick us up”

“I didn’t think it’d be in the middle of the fucking night...”

Oh dear. Keith was only getting crankier. Pulling Keith closer, Keith leaned into him, Lance enjoying feeling like he was supporting his sleepy boyfriend

“It’s fine. We were cuddled up in bed. He didn’t have any coffee before we left. Are we headed back to the apartment or VOLTRON?”

“Lotor had a meeting with Allura. That should be over now. She was worried about his scent sending you into a fresh heat when now is not an opportune time. Then there’s the affect of your scent on his ego. Allura was quite unsure what the meeting was about. Lotor seemed quite keen on dating her”

Trust Curtis to know what was up. Lance hadn’t met Lotor yet. The vampire less snoopy now the Blades had sent a team. There were probably a lot of supernaturals that felt they couldn’t go to VOLTRON for help until the hunters had left. Things were fine with Coran running the show. He didn’t simply send someone after you. But the Blades didn’t play by his rules. Antok hadn’t seemed to care when he carried out his mission. He was going to have to find Allura and ask her what she made of Lotor now they’d spent more time together. They never had had to go out... and though Lance disliked going to clubs, he didn’t want Allura to miss out on the chance to get out and about. He didn’t want to third wheel on Allura’s dating life, yet he wasn’t sure he was up for Allura going out alone with Lotor, if she’d decided he was worth her time. If they went out, met in a public space, then that’d be a different thing. Allura could experience what being human was like, without the heaviness of it being a date. Not that dating was heavy. But there was a certain expectation of things to run smoothly. Lotor hurting Allura went against things running smoothly and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to her... even if meant third wheeling. Tomorrow he’d talk to Allura. Or today... He wasn’t exactly sure what the time was, only that he was out past his bedtime and he wanted to get as far away from the hotel vampire as soon as he could.

*

When Lance went looking for Allura in the morning, the last thing he expected was to be running into Krolia. Walking through the halls, Krolia and Kolivan were talking with Coran. Lance knew he wasn’t supposed to hear what they were saying, but he definitely caught “Sendak needs to come in and testify that he wasn’t involved in the incident at the shipping yard, or we’ll be forced to hunt him down. If you can get Lotor to agree on a meeting with us personally, we’ll be in a much better position....” before the three of them noticed him and promptly shut up. He’d heard more, but he really had tried to ignore their words by thinking about Keith. In front of everyone else the Blades made it a point to tell the world they didn’t need Coran’s help. Now they were sneaking around and meeting with him like the dodgy snakes they were.

“Lance, my boy. What are you doing here?”

Coran sounded ruffled. Being caught would do that. Sliding his hands into his jeans, Lance shrugged, pretending this wasn’t awkward, and he didn’t feel like prey with the three of them walking towards him

“I just came up to talk to Allura. Is she around?”

“She’s in her office, I believe”

“Great. Well... I’m gonna go... yep... gonna go find Allura...”

And now he was overjustifying. Kolivan stared down at him, crossing his arms with a savage frown on his lips. Lance nearly found himself dropping down and begging for his life. The man was fucking scary

“Can I ask why you wish to see Allura? I was under the impression you’d be leaving by now”

Ouch. He was currently stuck. Things half packed

“I’m not exactly here because I want to be. No offence, Coran. I... well... I was going to ask Allura if she wanted to go out for a drink and a catch up”

Coran nervously twirled his moustache

“Sorry, my boy... Allura needs to stay here today. Why don’t you call Pidge and Hunk?”

Okay. This was weird. Why was it that he felt Coran wanted Allura staying at VOLTRON because he was scared for her? Lotor better not have hurt her already

“Nah. It’s fine. I wanted to see how she was. I’ll message Keith or something”

“Ah. Yes. Well. Shiro and Keith will be required later too. Sorry. Lotor wishes to meet with them and we believe Allura may be able to obtain information pertinent to the investigation...”

“That’s enough. Anything else is to be saved for the briefing”

Coran tugged lightly on the end of his moustache

“I’m sorry, Lance. He is quite right. Maybe today’s the day to go for a nice drive? You’ll find something to do. Only I ask that you please avoid the main floor. We don’t know what time we should expect Lotor’s arrival”

“Coran, you don’t need to explain. It’s okay. I’ll visit Garrison, and catch up with Allura another time”

Heading back to his room. Lance gathered up his things. Lotor was coming on board to work with the Blades, meaning his presence here would potentially cause issues if the two of them were to bump into each other. Coran had promised to work on something for his scent and pheromones but these things took time and the man now had enough of his plate that Lance understood he didn’t really have time to be coming up with something like that. It’d suck not being able to say goodbye to Keith, but Keith had work and that needed to come first. Plus they’d made up yesterday. He’d overstayed his welcome. Not helpful in the current situation. Packing up and moving home was best for everyone... except Keith. He was being pathetic. He’d been spoiled being able to see Keith almost everyday. Mami was right. They were definitely in their honeymoon phase. He wanted to spend as much time with Keith as possible, but already had made his working life hard because his boyfriend had to take care of him during his heats. Putting it that way didn’t sound noble. It kind of sounded like he was running away from his problems. He should just call Keith and explain... but hearing his voice... he’d want to see him, and then he’d want to stay and he couldn’t stay. Ugh. Being in love was exhausting... Don’t get him wrong, he adored Keith, but if he wasn’t thinking about him then he probably would have gone back earlier.

Taking the cowards way out, he shot keith a text. Well. A series of texts explaining that for now he thought it’d be best. He knew Keith had abandonment issues and he’d really wanted to help with this “Krolia Keith issue”. But he was just one vampire head over-heels for his boyfriend. He thought maybe he get them to talk, yet if he was confined to the lower levels of VOLTRON he didn’t see how that was going to happen. With his things packed, it took two trips to his car. Keith hadn’t replied to messages, making him feel even worse about just leaving him in Platt. Keith had mentioned he wanted him to be able to go back to Garrison, where he’d be relatively safe... Matt and Rieva wouldn’t have returned there is it wasn’t... and with the three of them they’d put up a fair fight if anything happened.

*

Blue kept him company for the drive. Clipping her lead to the passenger headrest, his precious princess curled up on the front seat, happy to be in the sun. Her legs stretched out, toe beans pointing towards him. She was just too cute. She’d made a friend in Kosmo and now Lance felt mean separating the pair of them. Maybe he should get another cat? If things were settling down for him, it’d be good for Blue to have some company... Though the house and grounds were her domain so an intruder might not be looked upon so nicely. Plus, she’d have to share her cat tree... and watch another cat eat wet food... Maybe another cat wasn’t such a good idea... Especially when Blue liked to “play” with him as a bat. He was likely to end up dead with a second feline there to help Blue. As Keith would say, he was overthinking things again.

Reaching his house, he didn’t feel better about coming home. Hunk’s car was in the drive, him and Pidge probably already inside. After his craptastic day, part of him felt petty. Pidge wasn’t fine with sleeping over when it came to him. But she was apparently fine with two werewolves... It stung. Like maybe he wasn’t welcome in his own house anymore, like he wasn’t exactly welcome at VOLTRON. Now he was sitting in front of his house, he realised he’d left without picking up blood bags. He should have some still, from when he was going to move back before, but after skulking away, he felt foolish. His metaphoric tail tucked between his legs because the adults didn’t have time for him. Totally fucking lame. He’d stripped his room completely. Everything packed and in the back of his bronco. All that came now was pasting a fake smile on his face and greeting his friends again.

Matt and Rieva had heard him coming, Lance opening the door to the pair of them. As they wrapped their arms around him, it was the best he’d felt all day

“You’re back!”

Matt sounded happy. At least someone was happy to see him... Nope. No. No being petty. They were home and staying there now

“Yep. Back for good”

“We missed you, man! Come in already! We’ve been dying here. Hunk’s cooking is the only thing keep us alive”

Lance snorted

“You’ve missed me because you can’t cook”

“Rieva can cook... but there’s just something not the same without you in the kitchen”

Matt was careless with his words. Rieva letting go of Lance and grabbing her boyfriend by the earlobe, Matt yelping

“What was that?”

Matt grabbed his girlfriend’s wrist

“Okay! I said it wrong! You can cook! You can cook! Stop tearing my ear off!”

Rieva grinned at Lance

“Hear that? He’s volunteered for two weeks of dishwashing and drying. Now, if only I could get him so enthused about doing his washing”

Lance raised an eyebrow

“You haven’t trained him yet?”

“At this stage he’s surviving on his good looks alone”

“Then how is he still alive?”

Matt frowned, Rieva letting go of his ear as she laughed. Crossing his arms, the werewolf put on an overly hurt tone

“Man. That hurt. I thought we were buds?”

“We are. Can I blame that on my ego?”

“Only if you don’t get too mad about your living room”

“What did you do to my house?”

“Well... about that...”

It took naught-point-two seconds for Lance to wish he was buried out the back in his grave soil. His living room transformed. Now there were investigation boards up for Lotor. Rieva hadn’t given up on Lotor being bad... she’d just shifted her investigation here... roping in Hunk and Pidge from the look of it. He’d left Platt and now Platt seemed determined to mock him

“What. The. Fuck?!”

“Don’t freak out...”

Matt could go jump if he thought Lance would be cool with this

“You can’t just... What were you thinking?”

This right here was why vampires lived longer than werewolves! Rieva took him by the hand

“I know this is hard for you, but we couldn’t let it go. Lotor’s bad news. His family is bad news. Please, Lance. This is the only safe place where we can work this out”

From the sofa, Pidge looked up from her laptop

“Rieva, ignore him. He worries too much”

No. He worried just the right amount!

“Of course I worry! You guys are mostly human! I didn’t come home to be caught up in an investigation that’d make me even more dead if the Blades found out!”

“That’s why they can’t know. Shiro and Keith...”

“I’m not lying to Keith. Both of them were booted from the investigation for a good reason. I can home to get away from this!”

Hunk came running from the kitchen. Oven mitts still on his hand

“What’s all the... Lance?! You’re back?”

Why did it feel like Hunk wasn’t happy to see him?

“I am. And I see you guys have been busy”

“Uh. Yeah. Uh, bud... you see... the thing is...”

“The thing is you’re going to end up getting yourselves killed chasing this. I can’t believe you guys! You find out vampires are real and now you’re targeting one of the nastiest around? Seriously?! Do you know what you’re doing?! Allura is like a hair away from dating Lotor. Keith’s stressed out. Shiro and Curtis are finally dating. We’re all banned pretty much from going to VOLTRON while the Blades investigate this. And you bring it home?! This isn’t fun and games! People end up dead or they end up as something fucking worse. Pidge, you were scared and you haven’t even seen the worst of it! I told you I didn’t want her caught up in this! She’s your sister, Matt!”

Matt sighed

“Look. I know you care about Pidge. But I care about keeping us all safe. Lotor is bad news...”

“I know! Well I don’t know, but I know enough!”

“You’re not a hunter...”

Matt started to speak, Lance snapping mid sentence

“You guys aren’t either! You want to be turned into pets? Is that it? You want to be fed on? You want to be tortured? Why?! Why would you do this?”

Pidge stood up, yelling

“Our parents know hunters! They know. They know about things!”

“Then figure out how to help Curtis with his goddamn curse! Not how to bring down Lotor and get us all killed in the process!”

Pidge’s parents knowing hunters kind of gut punched him. Pidge must have either forced them to talk to her or snooped. Probably snooped. Colleen was scary

“You’re not our boss, Lance. We can’t let people get hurt! Or is your precious ego so fragile you don’t actually care about helping people?”

Lance wanted to shake sense into Pidge. What happened to his always dependable ray of sunshine stopping her from being stupid?!

“Of course I care! But we’re banned from investigating! You guys were knocked out by the Blades once. Kolivan isn’t going to be so kind the next time around!”

“What does it matter if it stops people getting hurt?!”

“Because you could die!”

“And I could come back as a vampire! This is bigger than us”

Pidge didn’t get it. She didn’t get what being a vampire was like at all. Pidge turning into a vampire was the stuff of nightmares for him. Why were his friends so fucking stupid?!

“I can’t... I can’t even look at you guys right now. Being a vampire isn’t a joke. It’s the worst existence you could think of. For 26 years I’ve looked 18. I’ve watched my family grow old. I tore my family apart. My sister Rachel became a drug addict because she couldn’t cope. I’ve left people behind. I’ve had to change my name and move. Everything you enjoy about being human is gone. Your precious coffee, drink that and you’ll be throwing it back up half an hour later. No caffeine buzz. No alcohol buzz. We go insane. That’s our fate. Our fate is loose our minds and turn into monsters. That’s if you even survive turning and you’re not hunted down and decapitated first. Our blood is so dangerous that even a hickey can turn our partners if they suck too hard. Fuck this. I’ll be in my grave my soil”

No matter which way he looked at it. He’d be the first to sign up for experimental time travel because today had sucked so hard that not even Keith calling him could make up for it.

[yyxgin]

no bar!! never fret about replying late. i know what it’s like to not want to talk to anyone. honestly. i won’t call it (my experience) a depressive episode bc one of my friends used to brush off me when i was saying things like i’m depressed and say ‘sad’ instead. like if i were to say ‘that made me/i am depressed’ she’d say something like ‘oh god same! like if it’s making you sad,, don’t do it.’ which is a v poor example of what she did but i never called it depressed after that bc she pissed me off n was disregarding of my feelings (even though she’s incredibly anxious herself) bc i didn’t get it officially diagnosed. idk if you’ve ever read about birth control pills but i always read on tumblr people calling them literal depression pills and i ignored it, thinking either 1) people were being dramatic / were over-dramatising it or 2) it wouldn’t happen to me anyway. it fucking happened and they were not being dramatic. i was never happy n always working on minimal sleep n making self depreciating jokes all the time bc it was the only way i could cope with my thoughts n constant mood swings. so what i’m trying to say is,, i know how it feels. if that’s any consolation. it’s not me trying to be ‘oh me too!’ or ‘mine was worse than you’ it’s just me being understanding n telling you it’s okay. also lemme at your friends!! i’ll stomp them out n get the barman to run them over for you!! they’re so mean to forget you!! i find that deciding i want to do something specific n then asking the appropriate people if they want to do saïd thing/place works for me. it can be a simple ‘we should do this, when are you free?’ helps. making it known that you want to do things helps. or aggressively remind them that it’s nice to be asked bc it means they thought of you even if you couldn’t go n tried to include you. or we can revisit me stomping them out w my beloved barman,,, whatever works best for you my dear <3

admittedly me and one of the girls were discussing that we are going to miss our manager. even though literally everyone moaned about her (i feel like it’s impossible to avoid in literally any job/situation) she did have her moments and she did a lot for the staff like after work-drinks, asking the chefs if we could order off of the customer menu instead of the staff menu or whatever they cook in bulk for everyone to take home in the evening. apparently she did this a lot more than the previous manager. she has a good heart but sometimes she ignored some of the girls when we ask for days off or our availability for the week which was very annoying of her. it could’ve been a lot worse, i suppose, but overall she wasn’t terrible.

thé lady who lives in my town and drops me given the chance, told me the other night that she used to be the duty manager. i asked her why she stopped and she explained that when they furloughed everyone they asked her to come back on like half pay or something? idk i just remember it being explained as they wanted her to come back sooner and take away her furlough so she said no and got demoted. but somehow she still gets some of the furlough? idk i have been taught that asking how much or discussing specifics of paychecks kind of thing is rude, growing up. she has been telling me they keep asking her to come back (now they’re asking her to be a supervisor since she declined the manager role) and she keeps saying no. i love her and want the best for her so i won’t say anything to anyone about the conversations me and her have had (i mean, apart from maybe my mum if i can remember, and you bc, let’s be real, you don’t know me and idk you) and she says they’re just difficult to work with as a management team. she even said our area manager isn’t impressed with our current assistant manager (who is currently the only person on an houred contract since our manager left) which shocked me since i personally think he is quite good considering he has a good relationship with the staff and kitchen (he’s thai so he can communicate with the kitchen better than most of the wait staff (some wait staff are thai but mostly not)) i think she doesn’t want to be the eldest person in management or she doesn’t want the age gap to be so big since she has a kid she can lecture at home, she doesn’t need to be looking after people at work, y’know?

also today, me and one of the girls were upstairs (two floors of the restaurant!) and it’s nearing 11pm and her brother (who also works there) comes up and asks us when we’re finishing (mostly her lol) but we had two tables just sitting talking amongst themselves so she just said idk. he was saying he wanted to go bc he’s tired etc n he’s driving n she was like it’s fine go home i’ll call an uber or something n he was refusing to leave her behind. (i feel like i brushed over the two tables sitting there but it must be noted they’re the only tables left in the entire restaurant and we were the only two wait staff still there, apart from her brother but he changed and was waiting downstairs). anyway, she was sweeping (i was cleaning the booth/sofa thingy chairs as it was a mundane task we could do to pass time and while she was sweeping by one of the tables thé boyfriend was whispering to his girlfriend saying ‘should we go?’ and the girlfriend said ‘why should i care?’ and the girl came over to tell me v quietly and i got so upset for her. bc she is literally the sweetest person on the earth and the only reason i didn’t go to ask the manager to see if i could go home with the lady who offers to take me (ex-duty manager lady!) was so she wasn’t alone up there. if i had been the one sweeping near that table i would’ve snapped so fucking hard at them. i mean, we’re 18 and have lives and sleep schedules, and we’re working until 11pm on a thursday before we even get home?? like i wouldn’t have minded staying if they were reasonable tables but after the gf said that i was like ‘shall i go get our stuff from the staff room?’ so i could split as fast as possible. in the end the temporary acting manager came up and told us we could finish and she kicked the tables out ten minutes later. i told her what the table saïd and she thought that was mean and unnecessary too. i was also worried about my sleep tonight since i have my first vaccine tomorrow morning. that’s why i was more pressed about what time i left work today. oh well.

im sorry for talking so much about work! sometimes i don’t have someone to talk to about it (at home) bc of my weird hours and sometimes i don’t like re-explaining things to my mum if she doesn’t get it the first seven times. sometimes it’s just a little too draining as she doesn’t understand since she’s a lifer at her job. it’s easier to explain to my dad but then i get a whole lecture on something that i ultimately have no control over n id rather just bitch w the girls at work but the problem is WE’RE AT WORK!!!

also i booked for my first tattoo!! i’m excited. it’s for next week,, which was super quick considering i was expecting to have to wait soooo much longer. i’ve been telling people about it and that it’s happening but i haven’t had the pleasure of telling people exactly where i got the idea from. bar, my dear, you know wheein’s new album, redd? well, it comes with loads of things, including these stickers (one for each song) and the one from springtime was just so perfect and when i saw it my first thought was, this would be a perfect tattoo. and so i am having it tattooed on my body. a subtle nod to kpop whilst also having something meaningful on my body. i also have just decided i want a small, minimalistic (or one-line art) rose on my sternum, kind of in the valley of my breasts, bc my nan was a rose. i like having her close to me. i recently got her necklace fixed which has left me feeling so incomplete after it broke in august last year. it’s been almost ten years and i think i’m long overdue something to remind me of her. i fiddle with my necklace when i’m nervous which is why i love it so much but incase it breaks again (i pray it doesn’t but i have a long life ahead of me) i would like her close still.

gosh there’s never enough space in my head to remember what i want to tell you so i’ll stop here for now since i should sleep to be able to wake up in time for my first jab. i’m scared but it’s whatever i’ll do it i suppose,, eeek 😨

ilyl ~ 🌻

thank you so much for opening up to me about this, it means a lot to me :( i am so sorry you had to go through this and honestly,, i really resonate with you. i feel like when i talk about my emotions and my sadness (dont know if its okay to call it depression either but yea), my friend either always either makes me feel like my emotions arent valid or she tells me she doesnt know how to help, which is frankly, why i dont talk about my emotions to people irl anymore. i dont open up and it takes me a long long time to do so if i ever do, because i tend to feel insecure/not safe :D so really, thank you for telling me and i hope you are doing better. your emotions are valid and i am always here for you 

HAHAHA i mean i dont have many friends so theres not many to stomp on:( but i mean,, i get passive aggressive when i feel forgotten/left out so you best believe i told my friend how im feeling, but like uhhh it didnt do much. i spent the whole weekend at work and i was free on friday but my friend decided to ditch me and yeah. i havent been out in like two weeks now and i mean i am an introvert so i dont mind that much but even i want to socialise sometimes

aah i mean every manager has their flaws, no one’s perfect. my manager keeps calling me to go to work even though i was literally there for 11 hours on saturday AND sunday which means i worked for 20 hours in two days. and i work 20 hours a week at max. and i already worked some hours before the weekend so i think i have like 30 hours now and she keeps calling??? dude i need a break too,,i am so exhausted and tired of this shit :dd

oh i totally get what the lady that drops you off sometimes told you. i would feel a little iffy if i heard it too, but like,,,judge by your own experiences!! if you feel like something is off, you can always leave,, so i wouldn’t be so stressed about it.

why are people so rude ??? dude,,you should care, because we are all human. everyone has their needs and their lives and i bet he wouldnt like it if he was the one in your place. why should you stay there longer just because he didnt want to leave?? that was so unnecessary. people are weird beings and i learnt that after working with them this weekend,,,like i litereally got screamed at because i couldnt accept cash in different currency. like,,what tf do you want me to do?? i dont have every single currency with me so i could give u the change ?? tf ??

ALSO ITS OKAY TALK ABOUT YOUR WORK HOWEVER MUCH YOU WANT !!!! i also feel like i dont have anyone to talk to about work bc my parents dont listen to me as much as they used to these days and my friend unsurprisingly just doesnt care bc she doesnt work,, and i dont wanna talk to my internet friends abt it as much bc i feel annoying so i am glad us two can talk about these things together !!!! 

YOUR FIRST TATTOOOO WHOAAAH thats so cool. i love tattoos hihi dfkja idk if u already had the appointment but tell me how it went after !! i wasnt able to find the sticker on the internet but im sure it looks hella pretty. also i love how it reminds you both of kpop and your grandma, its wonderful <3 i really want to get a tattoo one day,, and i also want something meaningful (not that i am hating on people that tattoo themselves just for fun and have no meaning behind their tattoos i just have commitment issues so i want something long lasting). alSO my crush (yes i have a crush now ew) has a tattoo and it looks like satan lowkey,,but apparently its a japanese something (i forgot the word oopsies) and it means jealousy, bad past and wisdom ?? i was like BOY IF U DONT??? fjdkla he has blue hair btw i am very much whipped but he also doesnt know me and i am older than him so this is embarrassing

ALSO I HOPE YOURE FEELING WELL AFTER GETTING THE VACCINE !!! 

ily <333

[8requiems]

A Webcomic Review of “Deadlove”: I think I am a Sadist now.

Intro

WHOA WHOA WHOAAAA, before you skip this part, I tweaked the process of how I review webcomics after reviewing the webcomic before this one, “Wizard of Arsenia”. The changes aren’t earth shattering, but I just wanted to put that out there.

If you don’t care. I mean, you can skip reading it. I guess it's cool. I don’t mind...not like I didn’t spend time refining it- but it's OKAY.

Before we get into this review, there are two main parts of the review:

The General Review

This route will give you a simple idea of the webcomic you are about to read. It will naturally include my personal opinions, but they will not be inconsistent to any prior or future reviews I do (in the sense that I don’t do double standards when I talk about said webcomics). 

Said opinions won’t really dominate this route because I will be mainly establishing what the webcomic has to offer in each part. 

Because of this, my opinions will always be presented at the end of each section.

If need be, I will refer to events that might be considered as “spoiler territory”. 

I will read as far as I require in order to get a good idea of the story I am reading, so the amount of chapters I read will vary. At a baseline, I will have read at least 10 chapters.

Granted, I doubt anything too important will change how you experience later chapters since it isn’t as, lets say, a “Season Review”.

The only sections that will be fully opinion within this route is: Execution and Conclusion.

      2. Beyond the Border

This route will be available if you scroll to the very bottom.

Think of this route as the “New Game+” equivalent of the review.

I will read further either because the story has me hooked, or if I want to see if my criticisms still hold true.

EXPECT TO SEE SPOILERS. ESPECIALLY IF I GAVE THE REQUIEM TRADEMARK COPYRIGHT APPROVED THUMBS UP.

Disclaimer:

If you decide to skip “The General Review” to read “Beyond the Boundary”, don’t let it affect your opinion of the work too much (if you are easily swayed). Despite how open I am to webcomics, I might have opinions that could contradict with how you might view the webcomic if YOU were to read it.

I do advise that you read “The General Review”, and with that information in mind, proceed to “Beyond the Boundary”, if you so wish.

The Description:

*Ahem*

" They say you can’t run away from your problems... and Joel just learned that the hard way. Talk about having cold feet! Joel is all set to marry Kim, his art school sweetheart, but in a moment of poor judgment he has an affair with his roommate Zoe. Hounded by the guilt, but unable to fess up to his fiancé, he decides the most responsible thing to do is... run away. As far and as fast as he can. He now finds himself selling cosmetics at a shopping mall in New Zealand. Sure, he is homesick, and everything is unfamiliar, but at least he can work through his issues in peace and quiet, right? Wrong. Read this comic to find out how Joel’s plans fall apart, and how he puts himself back together, with the help of an unexpected guest… “

Y’know, this is usually the part where I give my own synopsis of the story, at times because the description is in no way useful. 

But, I have nothing to add. 

I will say that when I first read “Deadlove”, I don’t believe I read the description, and I think not reading it was a welcome surprise considering that although I was expecting a “Comedy with a simplistic art style that is kind of charming”, I think I got a bit more than I bargained for.

I should also note that if it were not from my blind curiosity, and I were to judge it purely on description and the title art, I probably wouldn’t have read it.

It doesn’t do justice towards how creative the Webtoon itself presents its characters and the story it wants to portray.

But we’ll get to that in a minute. For now, let’s get a good idea of the characters we will be following.

Characters:

Joel:

(A panel in the middle of Chapter 1)

As you will quickly understand, Joel as far as life decisions go is the definition of incorrigible. Despite having many opportunities to confront his problems, or even having moments of foresight. These 5 chapters, if you are one to hate misunderstandings or easily resolvable conflicts, will be hell for the reader.

Maybe it was because I was forcing myself to read another webcomic before getting to this one, but I somehow  was not personally annoyed by the way Joel was acting. 

Granted, if I read this on ANY other day, I would have been seething and/cringing at the sight of this imbecile.

Which, as Creator Teo reveals in his editors notes at the end of every chapter, will be a very common theme.

(The last paragraph of Chapter 2’s Creators Note ^)

(The beginning of Chapter 3’s Creators Note ^)

I think it’s safe to say that Joel's current situation is the logical extreme of not taking responsibility for your poor decisions and refusing to confront and learn from your mistakes. 

I feel like because of how his character is written, everyone is going to be on the same page, regardless of personal views on life when reading this webcomic, specifically because of how comically stupid we as the audience see Joel as.

I mean, at the very least that's how I feel…

At the same time, after reading the first chapter multiple times, I decided to set my personal biases aside just so I could be sure Joel is full of shit.

There were two parts of the Webtoon that caught my eye:

^ For this dialogue portion, the part that caught my attention was him brushing past keywords that we have likely heard before when hearing about cheating: “Love isn’t Binary”, “I thought only assholes cheat”, and “She looks hot”.

Now, I could easily be reading too much into these lines, and I probably am. But this isn’t the first time I have heard or read about someone cheating on someone they love for “X,Y, and Z”, so I decided to look up a random case to see how the cheater in that situation felt.

After reading about it, I felt myself not necessarily thinking he wasn’t an ass, but I did end up feeling bad for Joel. Not because of the lines I just showed, but for the lines in the following panel towards the end of the chapter:

In the case that I looked up, they felt miserable at the development that had come of their new relationship, despite cherishing the one they already had. 

Now granted, Joel does say that he isn’t a reliable source of info for the story, but I feel as though the points where he does start deviating from truth are obvious enough to the viewer that we can differentiate it from the real truth. 

At least, that’s what I believe, I tried reading back to see if there were any obvious deviations in truth but I couldn’t find any. Maybe you found some? Share what you found in the comments section down below if you have.

I think this simple meme panel that is shown at the end of chapter 1, although very simple, justifies the way I think about Joel as a character:

Execution:

When I first started reading “Deadlove” I thought the charm would come from the simplistic art style, and I wasn’t wrong about it not having charm, but it is certainly not the main appeal of the Webtoon. The way the visual and writing style compliment each other reminds me of my time reading “God of Bath”. But with “God of Bath”, that would moresoe be applied to the gag panels.

For “Deadlove”, it's every panel of every chapter.

Visual Style: 

I think my favorite part of the Webtoon would have to be the way Creator Guy makes visually metaphorical jokes, and just the way he decides to show Joel’s interaction with the audience as he breaks the fourth wall.

An example of a visually metaphorical joke would be something Creator Teo actually had to point out for me. Had to do a whole double take:

( ^ A panel in the latter half of Chapter 1 )

( ^ The fourth paragraph of Chapter 2’s Creators Note )

( ^ Joel revealing his wishy washy nature to the audience in a panel towards the end of Chapter 5 )

Although there might be better examples of Joel’s audience interaction, I personally love this one. I can’t help but chuckle every time I remember it.

The Writing:

I rarely consume media that breaks the fourth wall. And even then, they would break the fourth wall for comedic effect, not for telling a story. 

Then again, many stories will have a narration at the beginning where they basically guide you in the beginning portions of the story, only to return every now and then.

Joel is telling the story as he is living it. I mean, he does say the story isn’t linear, implying that this isn’t the case, but I still appreciate how the story is written nevertheless.

Conclusion:

Overall, I feel like I’ve communicated how much I love “Deadlove”, and I shouldn’t be surprised considering the talented duo of Creators Teo and Guy have experience telling simple yet fun and captivating stories, such as “The Adventures of God” and “My Dictator Boyfriend”. Both Webtoons that I love.

I already feel like I am someone that Joel is talking to, making me in some way a part of the story too, but having Creator Teo talk say reveal some insights about the Webtoon and giving some giving some thoughts about “Deadlove” shows a connection with me, the reader, that I don’t really feel in other Webtoons, even if they do Q&A’s every now and then.

That being said, I think that Teo’s quick tidbits are a consequence of the very stylized nature of the story itself.

I would suggest “Deadlove” to anyone, even if they would hate a character like Joel. Just because I feel like he is interesting enough to see him continue to make mistakes and follow his overall journey.

[rockshortage]

*Cracks knuckles* Ow. Let's see, how about: A6, 16. B1, 12. C1, 2, 3, 5, 8. D4. E2, 3, 7. F2, 5, 10, 12 (Sorry, but also not sorry) I6. L1, 2, 4, and 9 :)

hoo boy that took a while

A6) Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”

Ah, he questions himself a lot. Maybe he wasn’t listening well enough because he was too distracted by being anxious? Maybe he misinterpreted this event, because his background knowledge on it was lacking, he doesn’t know the full story and opinions from all sides, he’s not sure he can form a well educated opinion on this--

A16) Does your OC have to go through their own trials to learn a lesson, or do they listen and learn from observation and lecture? I.e., does your OC listen when someone tries to tell them the importance of budgeting, or do they have to go experience what happens if you don’t budget first?

Hector needs to do it himself for Science, because how else is he to truly know, if not from his own personal experience? Trusting what people tell you is good and all but gathering data yourself is better.

Unless we’re talking about raider politics, in which case there’s not really a good way for Hector to gather data without seriously endangering him and friends, so he’ll just listen to Gage.

B1) Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Generally, he believes it’s necessary to give people respect before you can expect it in return. He learns that many people do not in fact think the same way. He’ll still want to extend basic courtesy to them even if they’re assholes, unless they disrespect/piss him off to the extremes, or if their actions threaten his position and in turn the well-being of himself and friends.

B12) Your OC orders something to eat and gets their order done in a pretty wrong way, something they can’t just pick off or whatnot to correct, or something major is missing. What do they do?

Have a back and forth about it in his head – ah it’s not so bad it’s still fine, but then again he really wanted it differently… but he doesn’t wanna bother them and be entitled about it, but man… :( Might get close to pointing it out but chances are slim that he’ll actually get someone to correct the order. It’ll be disappointing but he’ll eat it.  

C1) Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

Eeeh, not a super strong one. His baseline are general societal morals and norms, like… help person good, kill person bad. Most of the time he’ll base his actions on what feels right for him and for his friends. He’ll consider: will doing this make me feel bad afterwards? Will it have a negative impact on other people, who don’t deserve it? Is that consequence worth it because it saves my own skin or helps/protects my friends?

C2) Would your OC feel bad if they acted against their morals? If not, would they find a way to excuse themselves for it?

Bringing back the point about sacrificing for the greater good. He’d consider that the morally right thing to do because it impacts fewer people negatively. But making that sacrifice endangers his friends, whose lives for him personally are worth much more than an abstract crowd of people. So he chooses to not do the thing for the greater good and save his friends instead, and yes, he would feel very bad on the one hand, because oh boy. As far as most people are concerned, he did a horrible terrible thing and was extremely selfish and absolutely chose wrong. But on the plus side, and that’s a very big huge plus- he still has his friends. And still having his friends makes him feel less bad than how he would have felt if he didn’t have his friends anymore.

So uh… yes and no.

C3) Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

More or less. He can’t hang out well with people he completely disagrees with in every way, of course that’s not going to work. But Hector is… how to say… kinda boring when it comes to ideals and opinions and all that stuff. He just doesn’t have very strong ones in general. Which can make him a little bland and potentially spineless, but also pretty agreeable. As long as they don’t constantly shove their great big opinions in his face, they’ll get along well enough.

C5) Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

I think I kind of answered this in C2. Basic morals do get thrown out the window if friends are threatened, or if he gets pissed off enough. He’d have to be really pissed off though. As well as being post having-grown-a-spine(-at-least-partially). Hurting people bad but being insufferable to Hector also bad so guess what fucker

C8) Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?

Again a little tricky because I’m having trouble coming up with a scenario that would help me make up my mind with a definite answer. I’m leaning more towards a practical approach 1) because Hector is more of a realist/pessimist in general, 2) he doesn’t want to like… be overly demanding

D4) Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be?

The more he thinks about it the more meaningless life seems to get for someone like him. Solution: don’t think about it! Repress that shit because it’s not like you can do anything about it anyway. Also an involuntary solution but one that helps nonetheless: have shit memory so that you don’t feel like you’ve lived too many lifetimes.

If you were to ask him, the answer you get completely depends on the headspace he’s in at the moment. If he’s just vibing, going about his day and things are going well then yeah! Immortality isn’t so bad. If you catch him on an off day, things aren’t going so well, maybe he just thought about having to deal with losing his friends eventually… then you obviously get the opposite answer.

E2) Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

I know I talked about this before and I grouped them from strong to medium to weak but I can’t for the life of me find the post anymore (thanks tumblr for your useless garbage search and tagging features). So I can’t even check if I’m still on the same wavelength with past me :v

From strongest to weakest we have…

Logical-mathematical

Spatial

Linguistic

Bodily-kinesthetic

Musical

Naturalist

Interpersonal

Existential

Intrapersonal

E3) How many languages do they speak?

Three… and a half.

The half language being Swiss German, because I don’t know what the fuck it is even after graduating from language uni

The others: Standard German, English, and French, from strongest to weakest.

E7) Are they a good note-taker? Are they a good test-taker? Do exams make them nervous?

Yes, yes, and yes. He’s very good at taking notes considering most of science is documentation. And even now when he’s not doing a lot of Formal Science things, he still writes in his journal almost daily, summing up events and making notes of important things. He gets nervous with tests with all the self doubt if he really prepared well enough and the unpredictability of the questions that will be asked, but once the pen is in his hand, he just blazes through it.

F2) What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

Someplace underground, safe and sturdy like a vault. Industrial aesthetic is welcome and he wants to have plenty of space, but it shouldn’t feel huge and empty. Needs to be homey, even if it might feel a little rustic to the average person. Having it built into a mountain would be sick, so he still has the perfect protection from the sun, but he doesn’t have to crawl out of a hole in the ground like some kind of worm – instead he opens the door and gets the most amazing view immediately.

… and I promise, only after writing the above did I remember that he pretty much lives in a mountain already, just a plastic one. Close enough.

F5) How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

Quite handy indeed. He can fix most things, he usually just needs some time to (re-)familiarize himself with the object and its functions. A lot of it also involves trial and error, but he’ll figure it out eventually.

F10) Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

He’d actually be really good at pen/pencil drawing, what with making technical illustrations and blueprints of Science Stuff, but it’s not a skill that’s applied in an artsy setting. When the goal is to draw for the sake of drawing, evoking emotion, or paint with a brush, that’s probably when shit would fall apart. I can’t remember who the artist was, but it reminds me of this little comic about Paladin Danse – in which he’s extremely good at technical drawings but then he attempts to draw a dog and it just looks…wrong.

Now with music, he’s more likely to engage in it in an artful way. He likes to sing, even if he very rarely does it now that he has people around him more often than not. Before, he’d just be alone in his lonely place and sing and scream to his heart’s content, but now he’s too awkward to do it, because someone might hear him. He is pretty good at it though, considering how much alone time he’s had to practice.

F12) Would they enjoy a theme park?

The rides and junk food? Yes absolutely. But the giant crowd and every little consequence it entails, nope, no thank you, he’ll just leave it be.

You bet he’s gonna go on the rides at nuka world though once they got them back up and working, because the crowd isn’t as big as pre-war and he’s the fucking overboss and can skip lines and restrict access to others however he damn pleases.

I6) Could they eat the same thing they enjoy over and over and not get bored of it quickly?

He can, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. The first month or so at nuka world he almost exclusively lives off of some shitty nutrient bars. In some scenarios, food just exists as sustenance and not as something to be enjoyed.

In a preferable scenario though, it is to be enjoyed. And I think while he would get bored of it after a while, it’d take longer than for the average person. And even then, he’s just happy he can eat something enjoyable at whatever pace he likes instead of having to scarf down Compressed Nutrient

L1) How have your characters changed since you created them?

He stopped existing in a void, which is a pretty damn big change. Now he has a whole world and other characters to interact with, that contribute to shaping and developing his personality.

L2) What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Oof, this is hard. Maybe… getting to know yourself? Accepting change, personal growth?

L4) Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

I’m actually not sure sjdfsdnsv

Like yes he is sweet bean who must be protected, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a weird little old man. I guess if we can just chill listening to music and he can go off about crustaceans or something and we speak The Horrible Language, why the fuck not

L9) How did you come up with your OC?

Masks cool. Me especially like gas masks. Unhinged science characters also cool. Make generic but still sliiiightly unique design and make it a point to not have him be a young pretty boy character despite having immortality. Add lots of weaknesses to compensate for the immortality. Add science personality things and complete the picture with projections of my own personality. Boom, you’ve got yourself the beginnings of a Hector

[sergeanttpoliteness]

➹one make out session, please➹ (peter b. parker x reader)

The sad and divorced man who's become a regular for the past year is constantly spilling his emotions to you, his favorite bartender. This wasn't something new; you can't count with both of your hands the times you've heard someone recount the odyssey of their life. But these flutters in your stomach were definitely something you didn't experience with your customers, and you definitely did not end up making out with them at the end of the night. Maybe Peter B. was your only exception, though.

(PART II) 

word count: 7.1k (sorry)

a/n: i tried like 8484 times to add a gif but tumblr wouldn’t let me so ((:: hello @ whoever’s reading this tho!! love how i went from 2k to 7k words lol, i’m sorry about that i don’t know how it happened. feel free to help me out w ideas and send requests if you want (: hope u enjoy !! Tiresome was a massive understatement when it came to having to describe enduring the same routine most nights. Not that you slept peacefully like a newborn baby all the time before taking a job as a bartender at the bar; but once in a while, when you returned home and watched the bright red numbers of the clock switch to 5 o’clock in the morning since your brain was punishing you by not giving you your well deserved rest, you sure did miss those simpler times when you didn’t work at night. Yes, at first it may be amusing to watch a drunk customer go haywire as they try to understand the meaning of life, and it’s nice listening to the story of how someone ended up drinking five shots of tequila that evening. You relished listening to other people’s problems, their stories, their lives— perhaps because, as much as it ashamed you to admit it, you didn’t make much out of yours. However, two years of the same old passed, and soon enough, every conversation and dusk began to blur together; everything became a monotonous daze, like an old movie replaying endlessly every week. The obvious route would be to quit your job as a bartender before you lost your mind, but the old lady who owned the bar paid somewhat generously considering the career— both with affection and money— and, despite how cocky it might’ve sounded, you knew well that the customers would be lost without your glorious daiquiris and margaritas. You’d also grown fond of the few people there and the new friends you made once in a while; you didn’t have the exact explanation as to why, but whilst you were in that hazy trance, you were quite the charmer. 

Every night was just like that: nothing more than a few more hours to your life, until a man who you guessed was probably nearing his forties and with a really, really nice nose (what could you say? You had an appreciation for the art of beautiful noses), dropped on the stool directly in front of you with a heavy sigh.

“One whiskey served over ice, please.” He muttered, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. You didn’t think much about it as your hands got to work and moments later handed the man his drink. You later spent your time trying to distract yourself with the preparation of other beverages, yet your eyes were drawn to him momentarily once or twice. Even as you talked with a tourist— a woman from Croatia asking about the best restaurants and stores in the city— the image of the guy itched at the back of your head, and you couldn’t figure out why. He was attractive, you decided, in spite of his rugged looks; he honestly appeared as if a train had hit him. Whether it was a physical or emotional train, you wouldn’t be surprised if it had been both.

The tourist sadly ended your conversation, distracted by the game on the TV, but you took it as an opportunity to comply with your desires and approach the man. You see, you liked to believe you possessed powers— useless ones, to say the least: just by a quick scan, you knew if a person needed a good talk; it could’ve been after their third drink, maybe even when they’re still sober. Suddenly, though, your bartender-senses abandoned you along with your charm and you simply couldn’t find a way to spark up a conversation with the guy. Really? You thought to yourself. Right now, when a cute older dude is sitting right in front of you, probably in need of your comradeship? Yeah, he was most definitely older than you, perhaps by some ten years, but did you really care? 

You were stuck, unable to crawl out of the crater until, eventually, he asked for his third drink. Showtime, you breathed in, the confidence hugging your entire body. “Just saying, but I could already sense this third drink once you walked in through the door,” You tried to joke.

He huffed through his nose, a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. “Do I look that bad?” He asked, a playful tone in his voice. A lopsided grin found itself onto your face and you slightly leaned over to wipe the surface next to where his hand rested.

“The opposite, actually. You’re quite the handsome guy.” Oh, there it was. He didn’t seem repulsed, which could’ve been a good sign, except that he didn’t look like anything— his expression was unreadable.

He raised his glass up to his lips. “Yeah, well, don’t really feel like it right now,” He said before taking a swig of his drink. You picked up a wet empty glass and dried it with your towel, like the true bartender you were.

“Well, do you feel like talking about it?” His eyes darted up to you and he lifted a brow. “There’s obviously a reason why you’re sitting here right now, no?”

You waited for an answer, but he swallowed his entire drink before he set the dry cup on the bar. “Maybe another time, kid.” Ouch. Kid? Really? You thought this was over once you turned twenty-three. “But I gotta get going now.”

That was the first conversation you two shared, and you bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him leave, disappointed that it also could’ve been the last one. You should’ve learned by now, though: this wasn’t the first time you made a “friend”, hoped that they would drop by again in the future, only to never see their faces again. You took in his appearance one last time then, cherishing the fleeting buzz in your head. But you were lucky when two weeks later he entered through the same door again. Nonetheless, not lucky enough, since he arrived the only day your shift ended early.

“One whiskey served over ice, please.”

You didn’t realize he was there until you heard that scratchy voice, the one you thought you’d never have the pleasure of hearing again. Your head jerked up and you didn’t miss a beat before gladly serving him— there was no way you were leaving without interacting with the older man, regardless of how small and brief the action was. It was a Greek tragedy in your eyes: saying goodbye to the back of the head of the attractive man in his thirties. You jokingly (but not really) warned your coworker to not make a move on the man; and, of course, you asked him to update you the next day if he mentioned you even just once. The next day (or rather, night), the first thing you obviously did was pester your friend to spill all the juicy, if any, details.

“I don’t know, he didn’t really say anything. He so checked you out when you left, though. Like— okay, maybe not check you out, but he definitely stared at you for a few seconds.”

You deflated. Anyone else would’ve cheered, but all you needed to hear was the first part; your friend had the poor tendency of overanalyzing and exaggerating every small detail— you learned that when, after some customers had a lousy argument, you both recounted the event to your boss during your monthly coffee session. What had probably happened was that the man merely breathed in your direction and your coworker’s eyes jumped out of their sockets. You brushed away your discontent, though, reminding yourself of your principles: you never hooked up with customers, especially since your boss was adamant about that after an incident with another bartender, and you didn’t want to endure new job interviews for as long as you could.

But the rush made you want to have fun with this guy.

Another entire month went by; no sign of mystery guy, no whiskey served over ice. No drops of your stomach, until one evening you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw that beautiful mess of a man, a scratch on his forehead you didn’t think much about since you’d seen much weirder things, sat in front of you. “Would you look at that! We meet once again,” He smirked. You placed your hand on your hip, biting your lip.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Tell me, do you want to try out something different tonight, or your boring, usual—”

“—whiskey served over ice. Yeah, please.”

Whiskey served over ice was quickly becoming your favorite order.

You didn’t exchange any other words— you were too engulfed into the breaking news playing on the flatscreen: a poor quality clip— something that still occurred even if it wasn’t 2005 anymore— of Spider-Man stopping a truck before it crashed into a hurt kid in the middle of the street. You grabbed the remote control and boosted the volume a bit, deciding you could perhaps multitask for a while. “So,” You started while maintaining your attention on the screen, catching his own. “You ever met Spider-Man?”

An odd question which made him snort as he turned his head to watch the screen. “No, not really. Wouldn’t want to, though, he’s kinda overrated.”

Your eyes went round, and you had to unstick your view from the TV to search for any sign of playfulness in the man’s face. He seemed dead serious. “Overrated? Full offense, but I can’t let you say that about Spidey, an actual superhero.”

He rolled his eyes, amused and defensively holding up one hand. “I’m just tired after hearing about him for the last twenty years. Can’t believe he’s not going around with a walking stick yet.”

You returned to your previous position, your forearms resting on the counter as you continued to observe a recap on a football game of the night before. “Yeah, I won’t argue against you on that. I remember watching him swing on TV back when I was seven-years-old. Big part of my childhood, the guy.”

He inclined closer to you, his brows drawn together. “What’s your age?”

“Twenty-nine.”

He let out an ‘oof’. You would’ve been insulted if it weren’t for the exaggeration in his tone. “You’re getting old. Soon you’ll be complaining about how much your back hurts and wishing for the sweet release of death.”

You chuckled, eyeing his appearance. “Ah, well, too bad because I already do that. How old are you? You’re acting like you’re sixty when in reality you’re probably just like forty, or something.”

“Eh, close,” He grinned, and then took a deep breath. “I’m thirty-seven.”

“And you’re calling me old?!” You exclaimed, earning a laugh from him. “You’re basically almost on your deathbed. Age doesn’t hold me back, though.” You winked jokingly and he bit his lip, his eyebrows raised.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, you know— more experienced, sometimes wiser, sometimes more of a gentleman…” You mused, drawing patterns on the bar. You didn’t notice him giving you a once-over. Someone called for your attention, and you let out a disappointed sigh, pouting at him. “Gotta go! Duty calls.”

“Have fun,” He raised his drink, bowing his head. As you walked away, you allowed your face to pale with terror and you began to wonder if the air-conditioning suddenly malfunctioned, for you were too heated for your comfort. You took as much time as you could with the rest of the clients, too frightened to face the man after your shameless flirts, dreading the repercussions. But you were finishing the preparation of a mojito, wishing you could down it yourself, when he lifted his empty glass and whistled at you. You nervously glared at him, motioning for him to wait before you served the finished beverage to its rightful owner and you met him once again.

“Tell me,” You began as you poured the liquid in his cup, trying to change the subject and mask your trembling hands. “I’m tired of thinking of you as the whiskey man. What’s your name?”

He let out a short laugh, thanking you before he took ahold of his drink. “Peter. Peter… B… Parker,” He moved his head along to each word and you sang out an impressed ‘ooh’.

“Peter B. Parker. Catchy. Giving me some boy band vibes.”

“Boy band vibes?”

“Yeah, like, ‘pretty boy in a band who’s a total teenage heartthrob’ type of vibes. You definitely fit the description.” Goddammit, you did it again. Just this once, you wished, just this once shutting your mouth would make everything easier for you.

Peter, his face finally having a name, licked his lips after sipping the alcohol. “So you think I’m pretty?” He inquired, a crooked smile on his face. You were good at holding back the tingling that wanted to suffocate your cheeks, the way you wished you could with your words. You hummed, surveying him quickly.

"Well, I did say you were handsome last time, didn't I?"

"Yeah— yeah, I remember that," He squinted his eyes, pointing his finger at you. "And you're...”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N…” He took his phone out from his back pocket and frowned down at it with concern. “Can you help me? There’s something wrong with my phone— it doesn’t have your number in it.”

Oh, my God.

You glanced down at his cracked screen and then back up at his face. Snorting so loudly it hurt your nose, your hand flew up to cover your mouth. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry, I’m just—” You pinched the bridge of your nose, wheezing. “I can’t believe you just did that. That was so cheesy, oh my God.”

“Are you gonna fix it or not, though?” He smirked, offering you his device. “‘Cause it’s a real problem.”

He got your number. After you returned his cell phone, you noticed his yet again empty glass, wondering how he downed it in just the time you were adding your phone number to his contacts. You grabbed it and poured more ice, seeing as the previous had already melted. “Since you successfully made me want to walk away from you and stroll around the place to try and heal myself after that awfully cheesy pickup line, this next round is on the house.” You declared as you opened the bottle of whiskey. He declined, emphasizing his refusal with the flutter of his hand.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Whatever, I’m gonna do it anyway,” You slid the alcoholic beverage towards him, and his eyes softened along with his entire face, too.

“Thanks.”

Your conversation continued the entire night. You talked non stop— so much that you might have forgotten about the existence of other customers. But it didn’t matter. Despite their annoyed expressions, it was worth it. You heard the story you had so desperately yearned for him to tell; he reminisced about his dead aunt and uncle— the lovely angels who raised him and the ones he looked up to the most. But your heart cried out when Peter sorrowfully stared into his whiskey, and you first heard the name. MJ. His ex-wife. The owner of his love for the longest time, the woman who crushed him a year ago. The one whose heart he broke, too, though, all because he was too terrified, too much of a wimp to take the next step, ‘not enough’, he said. You remained silent, realizing your flirtatious exchanges earlier were solely a way to muffle Mary Jane’s memory in his mind. Nevertheless, your hand reassuringly rubbed his shoulder, the action alone speaking the comfort he needed.

It wasn’t the last time it happened. After that, he began to show up at the bar more frequently, once a week. And whenever he did come, he left until your shift neared its end.

“Like, what type of father would I even be? Look at me!” Peter pointed at his head, stirring the whiskey with a finger of his other hand. “I’m a mess, I can’t even take care of myself— how could I take care of a child?! I just… I don’t have the time,” He sighed, laying his head atop the bar. You frowned as you prepared a second margarita for the mother of one of your classmates from high school, which was what initiated the conversation of parenthood and such in the first place.

You shrugged, aggressively rattling the shaker with your two hands. “I don’t know, maybe you’re underestimating yourself,” He peered up at you, doubt in his expression. “And you do have the time to come here every week, though,” You pointed out, wiggling your arms from how sore they were.

“Yeah, but you’re… this is different, this is…” He slurred, waving his hand. “Whatever. Work always ruins things for me. It has ever since I was a little tot.”

“Damn, what is your work?”

Peter began to gulp down his entire drink after your question and seconds later slammed it on the table with wide eyes, attempting to digest the liquor. He cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes. “It’s… it’s, uh, I-I work at the Daily Bugle.” You opened your mouth with astonishment, stopping in the midst of rubbing a lime on the rim of the glass.

“The Daily Bugle?” You asked incredulously. “That one newspaper with the dude who’s obsessed with Spider-Man? J-something-Jameson?”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s my boss.”

You grimaced, instantly comprehending his daily fatigue and he nodded, agreeing with you. “What do you do? Write?”

“Nah, I’m a photographer.”

“Ooh, so you’re a photographer? That’s hot,” Moments ago he’d been complaining about his marital issues yet there you were, calling Peter hot. You might have slipped the compliment right before you left to give the margarita to your ex-classmate’s mom in fear of his response, therefore missing the faint heat that overwhelmed his cheeks and ears. 

“Is… it’s nothing, really,” He dismissed your words, being all humble and shit. You placed your elbows on the counter, coming closer to him.

“Could I ever see any of your pictures?”

He threw a block of ice into his mouth. “Mm, thure,” He said, his mouth full. Your mouth twitched in amusement, and you decided to sit down considering the night was particularly slow. Your boss lectured all the time that there was never time to sit down and there was always something to do; keeping that in mind, you still ignored the four dirty glasses, instead choosing to spend time paying attention to the man with ice in his mouth. “I’m boring, though— tell me more about yourself. There’s gotta be more to the attractive barista who works at the bar near my apartment.”

You were taken aback, both by the fact that he considered you were good-looking and that he was pushing to hear about you. “Me?” You blinked. He nodded, looking at you expectantly. You lowered your head, picking at the skin around your nails— damn past you for cursing you with the habit and, consequently, terrible nails as well. “This is… weird. I don’t really talk to customers about my life. They even tell us to not do that specifically.” You laughed.

“What? Why?”

“Well, because you don’t want to hear about me: my childhood and the drama in my life, I guess,” You said with an obvious look. He scrunched his brows together.

“But I do.”

You despised the way your heart missed a beat. “Alright, well… I don’t know, what do you want to hear about?”

“Were you born here? In New York?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I moved here after finishing college. I thought I was gonna be a successful artist and stuff.”

Peter gasped with wonder. “Artist?! Cool! What, what type of artist?”

“I paint,” He whispered an adorable ‘whoaa’ and your shoulders shook with laughter. “It’s really not that cool. I do paintings once in a while. Pays well and can help with the bills if someone buys them.”

“I’d buy many if I had the money.” 

“Nah, I would paint you one for free,” You smirked, leaning closer to him.

“Oh, sweet— you can paint me naked. You know, like one of your french girls.” He hummed, a goofy grin breaking out on his face. You quirked a brow, giggling.

“That’d be interesting.”

“I know, I’d be a great muse. Tell me more, though, you got any friends? Family?”

You hesitantly nodded. “Yeah, except they’re all back home. The only people I’ve got here are at the bar, my boss basically adopted the few people who work here.”

“Wish my boss was like that,” He grumbled, grasping more ice. “Well, now you’re stuck with me too, though.”

You gripped your knee, your lips pressed together to retain the beam threatening to appear. “Is that so?” The ice he had shoved into his mouth was too big for him to speak without drooling all over his chin; so with his chipmunk cheeks, he moved his head up and down. “Is this us officially becoming friends?” You waggled your brows teasingly, your lips now stretching widely.

“I thought that happened the second you gave me a free round of drinks.”

Three more months passed by. You realized your nights weren’t a blur anymore. No— now they were Peter B. Parker, his weary brown eyes, and his whiskey served over ice. You couldn’t help the scrunch of your nose and your slight smile whenever someone else ordered whiskey, since, as ridiculous you knew it was, those words were Peter. You held yourself back each night you two shared from leaning over the bar and tasting the cold liquor in his tongue. You wondered if, perhaps, that’s what Peter Parker tasted like. But it didn’t matter how strongly you craved to find out; you couldn't be anything more than a friend to your customers, you constantly reminded yourself. Not that it even was a possibility with Peter, anyway— it was evident he still cared about Mary Jane. It was clear she lingered in the fog of his memory, despite how much he drank or how hard you attempted to take her place with every conversation. You tried to convince yourself that it was alright, and it wasn’t working, but you hoped someday it would.

It was a Saturday night— or more like the early hours of Sunday— when you went to joyfully take Peter’s order after he sat down, only to be met with an awful bruise on the bridge of his nose. You winced, unconsciously reaching out to touch his face, but drawing your hand back before he noticed. “Pete, what the fuck happened to your face?”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about someone.” He simply responded, evidently trying to disguise the swelling with his hand, but sighed after seeing your scowl. “Fine, it’s embarrassing. Like… really, really embarrassing—”

“I’m listening.”

He squirmed, his gaze moving to his right and his voice coming out high pitched as he searched for a way to explain himself. “I tripped.”

Something you’d learned throughout the past months of weekly meetings with Peter Parker was that the man was not subtle. Far from it. And this wasn’t the first time he arrived with a scratch or sort of bruise, which truly clutched at your stomach in the wrong way, but although he’d talk about anything— from what he ate for breakfast that day to confessing a pestering fear in his head, he never ever talked about how or why he got hurt. He always managed to steer away from the subject; the sneaky bastard, you’d think to yourself when minutes later you two were thoroughly discussing the best ways to eat an egg. You never budged, though, for you couldn’t bear to lose his trust or him getting mad at you; which hadn’t occurred yet, and you wished to keep it that way. You questioned your decision, however, as you grabbed the box of bandaids hiding under the counter (the bartenders there could frequently be quite clumsy), and grasped one with your fingers. You opened it, detaching the paper from it.

“It’s really nothing,” He continued insisting, trying to erase the creases between your eyebrows. “I just gave the ground a real nice smooch—” He stopped talking when you leaned over to touch his face, your hand cupping his cheek as you smoothed the plaster over his nose.

“I… what?”

“Sorry, it just looked really gross,” You lied, truthfully concerned about his well-being. “You couldn’t go around walking like that.”

“But I can go around walking with a…” He inspected his reflection on the cupboards, squinting to make out the pattern of the bandaid. “Spongebob bandaid on my face. And how is that supposed to heal a bruise?”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s alright. I… I like Spongebob. One whiskey served over ice, though, please.”

You scoffed, picking up a glass from the cabinet. “I’ve held myself back from asking, but…” You shut your mouth as you continued preparing his drink, doubt winning its battle again. He tilted his head.

“But?”

“But… how come you’re always getting hurt in some way? It’s kind of concerning,” You laughed nervously, not wanting to reveal how much it truly worried you. He shrugged one shoulder.

“I guess I’m just really clumsy.”

“This isn’t clumsy, though,” You argued, your forehead furrowed. “This is… getting beat up type of stuff. Is that it? Do you get into street fights or something?”

“No! No, I, uh…” He hesitated, avoiding your gaze. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Peter searched for words, his mouth ajar. He closed it and rolled his lips. “I want to tell you, I really do, but now is not the time. I promise I will in the future.”

You prepared to question him more, until a tune filled your ears. You raised your hands up to your head, your palms squeezing your temples as you gasped. Peter raised an eyebrow, entertained. “I fucking love this song,” You explained as ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ by Whitney Houston played on the TV. Peter sat still as he paid attention to the music, confusion glinting in his eyes until he recognized the melody and his body lit up.

“Wait, so do I—”

“Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade…” You shouted, your head jerked back. Peter put his fist against his mouth, embarrassed by your hilariously terrible singing, but at the same time holding himself back from joining you in your performance. “Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away!” You sang, pointing your finger at him. He muttered an ‘ohmygod’ under his breath, his face beet red.

“I’ve done enough ‘till now, it’s the light of day that shows me how!” You dramatically laid back on the counter, true singer-like style, holding an imaginary microphone up to your mouth. “And when the night falls, loneliness calls…” You turned your head to face Peter and booped his nose, an action which you would undeniably regret once the euphoria of hearing one of your favorite songs ended.

“Ah, fuck it…” He whispered, beaming at you and grabbing your fist to sing into the invisible mic as well. “Oh! I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heat with somebody!” He cried out, his eyes passionately closed and his hand pressed flat against his chest. You scream-laughed at him, holding your torso. However, you quickly rolled onto your stomach, your faces now in close proximity.

“Yeah! I wanna dance with somebody! With somebody who loves me!” You both sung into your clenched hand, incredibly out of tune. “Oh! I want to dance with somebody!”

“I wanna feel the heat with somebody...” A customer in the background yelled out. You two exploded with laughter, your head pressed against his cheek and Peter gripping your hand tight.

That night, you sang with somebody you loved.

The end of the year arrived too quickly, and you were disconnecting the plug of the Christmas lights adorning the windows of the bar as you wondered whether you should get Peter a present for the holidays or not. Some new sweatpants, you considered; they were his favorite piece of clothing, you had come to learn, and in the times that he wore a pair, you noticed it was always the same. But you also questioned if it would be bizarre to hand him a gift— you only saw each other at the bar, after all. There weren't any instances where he called you to meet up for lunch, or something similar; and once in a while, you hoped to hear your blaring ringtone and to answer your phone to him. That never happened, though; your relationship would never evolve from the occasional text throughout the week. To make matters worse, you hadn’t even seen him for three weeks, three days, and counting. And, my God, did it sadden you that you knew that. Every time you’d type a greeting along with a question about his whereabouts, you’d stare at the screen of your cell phone for far too long and eventually delete your words— the exact process repeating over and over again. Maybe he’s with his friends or remaining family, you concluded. Hanukkah did end yesterday, stop being so obsessive.

A knock on the door provoked a startled squeak out of you. You jerked your head, confused, because who in the world was knocking on the door at three o’clock in the morning? Your terror was fleeting, however, for behind the foggy glass existed Peter B. Parker’s guilty smile. You exhaled and headed to open the door to shelter him from the violent and raging winter wind outside. He barged in, the tip of his nose the color of raspberries, most likely a repercussion of his poor clothing coverage for the season. “Hey,” He greeted you, rubbing his hands together.

“Wow, I think you got here a little too late,” You teased, folding your arms across your chest. The bags under his eyes were particularly prominent that night, not that it surprised you in any shape or form. He leaned against the wall, resting the back of his head on the timber.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” He apologized and you shook your head. It was useless. You were aware that there was no chance you could be mad at him for finally visiting you; in fact, you were ridiculously elated to be seeing him at such late hours, in spite of your bed crying out for your company. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“What are you doing here, anyway? I haven’t seen you for three weeks and when you do show up, it’s at three A.M.”

“I don’t… know.” You quirked a brow, wondering if he’d had a few too many drinks. “I sort of just walked and my feet got me here.”

“Are you drunk? And did you get in a bar fight or something, because you’ve got a bruise forming under your jaw and it looks too animalistic to be a hickey,” You asked with a gesture of your hand toward his face, relieved the jealousy didn’t bleed through your voice if the latter turned out to be more than a mere speculation. The scarlet on his nose spread to his cheeks. “I hope not, because that would mean you cheated on me by going to another bar.”

He chuckled, rubbing a hand over his stubble. “Nah, I wouldn’t ever do that to you.” You walked up to him and patted his shoulder, congratulating him for his great response but also to move him away from the window to check if it was closed. “I’m just tired.”

“Long day?”

“Awfully long.”

You still didn’t get an answer to why he was out so late, but you didn’t have the energy to continue budging. “Yeah, same.” You whispered, lifting a chair to place it upside down on a table.

“Wanna talk about it?” You looked at him confused. “Your day?”

“I would, but, uh, I kinda have to close this place. Y'know, it’s the holidays, so we’re not open 24/7 because my boss likes spending time with her family,” You explained, hearing his understanding hums. “Everyone already left and I didn’t have anything to do, so I promised her I would do it for her.”

He moved to stand opposite to you and copied your actions of setting the chairs atop the table. “That’s not safe— you being here alone, I mean. I can help!” He offered, as if a random spike of energy flourished in him.

Your brows drew together. “Shouldn’t you go home?”

He paused in the midst of reversing a seat, the furniture cradled in his chest like a baby. “Yeah, but so should you. It won’t hurt to sacrifice one hour of sleep just to help a friend,” He smirked, shrugging.

You allowed him to give you a hand in arranging the place, not that you had much of a choice, anyway; he would’ve done it nonetheless despite your refusals. Thirty minutes later, you were standing outside, your body aching tremendously. Peter noticed your soreness and, before you could even react, he was lowering the roll-up gate. “I could’ve helped with that,” You mumbled as he wiped his hands on his sweatpants. “Don’t want you breaking your back, grandpa.”

He laughed, shoving his hands inside his jacket’s pockets. “I’m a cute grandpa, though, right?” He asked with a flirty smile. You rolled your eyes.

“Hm, yeah, a total gilf.”

“Gilf?”

“Yeah, you know, like a ‘dilf’ but instead of a dad it’s a grandpa.” You both giggled as you began to walk to who knows where, visible breaths leaving your mouths like small dragons puffing out smoke. 

You stopped in your tracks, gripping the straps of your backpack tightly. “Oh snap, I forgot!” He turned around with a questioning brow. “My car broke down, so I have to take the subway back home.” You explained, nudging your head back at the green stairs heading down to the metro station. He tilted his head, frowning.

“Y/N, it’s four in the morning. I don’t think going to the subway this late is such a smart idea.”

You rocked on your heels. “Yeah, but… how else am I gonna get home? You want me to sleep in the bar?”

His gaze shifted as he pondered, grunting. “Do you, uh… do you want to go to my place?”

Your stomach clenched, your heart starting a run when you heard his suggestion. He doesn’t mean it that way, you idiot,  you scolded yourself. Yet you wished he did. “...Your place?”

“Yeah, it’s just a few blocks away from here, like a ten-minute walk.” There was a prolonged silence as you entered deep in thought, making him panic and stutter. “T-that’s if you want to, though. Don’t want you to feel pressured—”

“No, Pete, I…” You stopped him, grinning. “I mean, you sure?”

“Yeah,” He clapped his hands and held them together up to his chest. “Why not?”

“I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Cool! Uh, cool.. just… c’mon,” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder and you began your trek to his apartment, your shoes thudding lightly against the concrete of the sidewalk, wet due to the rain two hours ago.

“Thanks…” You started, wiggling your fingers, numb from the bitter cold, but to wake yourself up as well. “I actually am sort of terrified of taking the train, so I’m glad you offered. I’ll sleep on the couch, don’t worry—”

“What? No! No, I’ll take the couch, you’re the guest.”

“No, no, no, I insist—”

“Y/N.” You looked up at him, a teasing smile on his face. “You keep the bed. Plus, the change of place will be nice.” You groaned, your eyes closed.

“You’re such a great dude: offering me to sleep at your place so I don’t get mugged and shit, and here I am, stealing your probably comfy bed.” You then moaned, your eyes going blank. “Bed. God, just thinking about sleeping really turns me on right now.”

He huffed softly, bumping into your side. “What… what’s happened, though? We haven’t seen each other for a hot minute.”

You looked heavenward, your mouth ajar as you tried to recall your previous three weeks. “Mm, well, I honestly can’t even remember if I had breakfast or not— oh!” You exclaimed rather sleepily. “Well, this pretty boy working at a Taco Bell I went to asked me out on a date.”

“Oh?” He scrunched his brows together and you hummed. “And what did you say?”

“No.”

“No?! Why not?”

“I just…” Your eyes darted up to his curious ones, your face softening after inspecting him for a while, but not long enough to embarrass yourself. “I don’t know. Wasn’t feeling him, y’know?” He nodded comprehensively. “What ‘bout you?”

His entire mood shifted. His shoulders slumped, and he nibbled on his bottom lip, his jaw tightened. “I… I saw MJ today.” Your heart broke.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Wh-what, like, you two met somewhere?”

“No, more like ‘saw her coming out of the coffee shop while crossing the street and then a pedestrian yelled at me because I was standing in the way’.” He grumbled. You didn’t know what got in you, but you grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He glanced down at your linked hands and then up at you. That’s when you instantly let go, your pinkies still connected for a bit until completely detaching. You were too busy ogling the ground to see his fingers searching for yours.

“You’ll be alright one day,” You cleared your throat, a bashful smile on your face. “You’ll figure this out.”

He prevented you from continuing with your walk with a hand on your shoulder. You hesitantly turned your body to face him, gulping. Oh, no— you worried, your heart picking up its pace again— did the hand holding make him uncomfortable? Is he now gonna question me? Why am I such a damn idiot? But then you saw his dilated pupils, and your mouth went dry. “I…” He began.

“You… okay?” You questioned when his stare lingered on you. He blinked, his arm dropping by his side as he coughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, that was weird. I’m just—”

“—tired.” You finished for him and he scoffed, giving you a half-smile.

“Wow, you know me so well,” He joked, and scratched the back of his neck, pointing at the building you two stood in front of. “Uh, this is where I live.”

“Oh!” You spun around, studying the apartment complex. It appeared simple: not too big or small, modest-looking. “That was faster than I expected.”

“Yeah…” He muttered as he climbed up the stairs, holding the door open for you when he reached the top.

The man’s apartment was tiny, somewhat too messy, you decided; there was an empty pizza box on his bed, and he awkwardly dumped it in the trash can when you two walked in, apologizing for the mess. You sat on his bed and he stood at your feet, stroking his neck. "Do you want some clothes? I can give you a shirt or some—” You stopped him when he turned to go to his dresser, gently pulling his arm. “What?” You continued to wordlessly tug on his sleeve until he sat next to you, sighing deeply. Slowly, you leaned backwards until your back bounced on his mattress. Peter’s confused by your actions, but you simply patted the area behind him. He got the message and lied down on the rumpled sheets. 

You looked at each other, a few inches apart, yet for some odd reason, you felt closer to him. Perhaps you could blame the different location, or the way in which your silent gazes stayed on each other. Somehow, you were both alright with it. No discomfort took ahold of either of you as you remained like that for a while, no words or sounds other than the city outside, both later with your eyes closed. To your embarrassment, you were on the brink of dozing off, but you couldn’t help it; you drowned in tranquility, and the exhaustion of your body cooperated— it was surprising you hadn’t fallen asleep yet. You could hear Peter’s steady breathing, and his voice brought you back to consciousness when he spoke. “Y/N?” It was soft, softer than your pillows back at home. Softer than your lonesome bed. You acknowledged him with a mumble, opening one eyelid. His eyes were almost shut, but you could still see the glimmer in his dark eyes. His whiskey eyes. “You’re really nice.”

Your eyes sealed closed again. “You’re really nice too, Pete.”

“No, but…” His sentence died out and he did not continue for a long period. You believed he had fallen into a slumber until he talked again. “You’re really nice. Like that hot chocolate I had in the morning while I was freezing type of nice.”

“I… I don’t know if it’s because I’m about to pass out, but I don’t get it.” When you blinked your eyes as wide as you could, he was closer than before. Closer than ever. You took the chance to discover, note every part of his face more closely, every freckle, every lash, his growing stubble. Everything.

“What I mean is that… you really bring warmth to my life, Y/N. Not to sound too cheesy like I usually do, or anything. But everything’s a mess and you’re there, and I’m glad about that.”

“You’re just tired.”

“Yes, but a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.”

“You’re not drunk.”

“There’s really no difference.”

You could now feel his breath on your face. It was as if with every flicker of your eyelids, he had managed to inch nearer to your body. “Pete…”

“Y/N…” Your lips were roughly touching. You felt his arm slip around your waist, his fingers ghosting over your prickling back.

“We can’t do this.” You said, regardless of your hand cradling his neck. Your foreheads were now touching.

“Why not?”

“Because…” You tried to claim that he was your customer, but you truly did not care about it anymore, and you never did. “What about Mary Jane?”

He hesitated for a moment. “What about Mary Jane?”

“You still want her back.” You breathed out, your body quivering as his eyelashes tickled your cheeks.

“I can forget about her just tonight.”

You kissed. Your lips remained interlocked for a few moments, the both of you too tired to move them. It was like sixth-graders kissing for the first time— a lingering peck on the lips. But an energy sparked within you, and you moved your lips. Soon, you were on top of his body, your shirt almost completely off except for one of your arms still inside one sleeve, your fingers desperately tangled in his greying hair, his crooked nose bumping with yours. He didn’t taste like whiskey or ice, but he did taste like a year of laughing with each other in the bar, and him not noticing as you slowly fell for him.

[avengerscompound]

The Little Guy

The Big Guy:  A Bruce Banner Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bruce Banner x F!Reader

Word Count:  2341

Warnings:  Slight Angst, Fluff, Pregnancy, Smut (F|M, Vaginal sex)

Synopsis:  Meeting the big green guy wasn’t exactly a normal day, you didn’t expect it to you leading a life on the run and keeping your child’s nature from the world.

The Little Guy

Bruce Banner scrambled back from you, the woman whose arms were just a moment ago wrapped around him.  You were a stranger but somehow you seemed familiar to him.  The last thing he remembered was being holed up in an apartment building in Florida.

Then… then… a swat team had bashed down his door.

He looked around panicked.  “Who are you?”

You both said the words at the same time and it startled him even more.  He looked around at the wide open field he was in.  It was bordered by forest and a cabin stood at one end and at the other, an old barn with brightly colored childish pictures painted down the side.

He looked down at himself.  He was naked and a chain of daisies hung around his neck.  Nothing was adding up.  He looked back up at you and saw the same confusion on your face.  “Where am I?  How long was he…?  Oh god, did he hurt you?  Are you okay?  What did he do?”  He said coming a little closer to you.

You stumbled back from him.  “You - you’re naked.”  You stuttered.

Bruce looked down at himself and quickly grabbed the oversized pair of pants that had pooled around his ankles and pulled them up covering himself awkwardly.  He looked down at himself again.  The pants were handmade, and a lot of care had been taken in the stitching.  The daisy chain still hung from his neck.  It was clear that daintier fingers than the other guy’s would have been needed to make it.  He looked over at the barn again taking in the simple artwork that reached high up on the wall and suddenly everything clicked in place.  “Have I been living here?”

“Who are you?”  You asked again, still cowering from him.  “What happened to Hulk?”

“That’s … I’m the Hulk,”  Bruce said, looking you up and down.  “Well, I mean, I’m not … did he hurt you?  What’s going on?  How long has it been?”

“How can you be Hulk?”  You yelled.  Bruce startled and backed away from you a bit more.

“It … I was doing these tests.  I made a miscalculation.   He’s the result.”  Bruce explained hoping you’d stop panicking soon because he really needed to panic right now.  “Please, when he’s in control I … I’m not anywhere.”

You shook your head.  “I don’t know.  You’ve been here with me for two months.”

“What’s the date?”  He asked you.  “And where’s here?”

You took a couple of deep steadying breaths, calming yourself.  You had just seen the giant green man you had been getting to know transform before your eyes into this much smaller white man.  If you could get used to the Hulk being around, you could get used to this.  “Come inside. I think there should be some clothes that fit you.  My dad and uncles come up here a lot.”

After you have given him a change of clothes and make him tea you sit down and fill him in.  You tell him the when and the where.  You tell him how you met the Hulk.  How you’d become friends.  That you were just planning on going back home because you needed to work.

He, in turn, tells you about the experiments that made him what he is.  How the government had come for him.  How they wanted to use him as a weapon.

“I can’t believe he was in charge for almost 4 months.  It’s usually something that goes away when I sleep.”  Bruce said, shaking his head.  “You’re sure he didn’t hurt you?”

“Do I look hurt?”  You asked.  The question had become a little tiresome and this whole situation was making you feel a little frayed at the edges.

“No.  But, that’s out of character.  I just - I can’t get my head around…”  He said shaking his head.  “You said he talked to you?”

“Yes.  We were friends.  Well, he’s kind of like a little kid.  But he’d come when there was cooking.  We played little games together.  He liked to paint and one time he sat still and let me paint his skin like it was a canvas.”  You explained.

Bruce shook his head again and he ran his hands through his hair.  “I don’t know what to do.  Or where to go.  All my stuff was in Florida.”

You sat back in your chair and rubbed your temples.  “We’re pretty far from Florida.”

“I know.”  Bruce lamented.

You didn’t say anything for a while.  “I’m completely cut off here.  You can stay but I don’t know what you would do for money.  And other people in my family come up here.”

“I know.  That’s - that’s not fair to you.  I’ll try and figure something out.  If I had a phone maybe… I don’t know.”  He said looking at his hands.

You sighed and there was a silence again for a few moments.  “You can come and stay with me.  I don’t know.  If you’re really wanted.  I live in the city.  But I have a loft and it’s big.  There’s a rooftop garden.  You can stay.  Figure out your next move.”

He looked at you like a hopeful puppy.  All that was missing was the wagging tail.  “Really?  You wouldn’t mind?”

“No.  That’s okay.  I don’t know you, but I knew him.  I’ll trust you because I trust him.”  You answered.

Bruce shook his head like he was trying to clear it.  “That was not something I thought I’d ever hear in my lifetime.  I really don’t understand anything that’s happening right now.”

You and Bruce made the long drive back into the city with only two stops. You got fuel and grabbed some gas station snacks and the crappy egg salad sandwiches they sold and then stopped at the next rest stop to eat them.  It was one of those ones that always seem like the place hill people select their next victims in b grade horror movies.  You’d stretched and eaten by the side of the road before moving on your way.

By the time you arrived home, it was past midnight and you were both exhausted but you knew a whole lot more about each other.  This small soft-spoken man was the opposite of the Hulk in so many ways but it was strange because you could still see him in there.

You led him up to your loft.  It was a large industrial style space that was broken into two.  The first part was your living room, gallery, kitchen, and studio.  There were racks of finished paintings standing on one side of the room and racks of empty canvases on the other.   Several of your favorite paintings hung on the wall and there were a few unfinished pieces next to crates of paints and brushes in the corner.  A large couch sat in the middle of the room with a coffee table covered in stacks of sketchbooks and piles of pencils and charcoal.  The room on the other end of the loft was your bedroom on the left and a bathroom with an old clawfoot tub on the right.

“The couch folds out.”  You said pointing to it.  “I’ll get you some blankets.  I might have some of my exes clothes here.  He was bigger than you.  If you tell me your size I can duck out and get you some more clothes.”

“You don’t need to do that,”  Bruce said meekly, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.  “You’ve already done enough.”

You waved him off.  “You can’t just wear ill-fitting clothes the whole time.  I sewed for Hulk, I can shop for you.  I have to go out anyway buy some food.”  You grabbed some blankets, sheets, pillows, and towels and brought them back to him in a stack.  “Here you go.  The bathrooms through there.”  You said, pointing.  “I’m just going to get ready to sleep and crash after that make yourself at home.

The following day you made good on your promise going out and picking up groceries and clothes.  When you get home you try to get your life back on track.  Returning to your art as Bruce tries to figure out what to make his next move.

That took a lot longer than you both thought.  He had money but accessing it meant the government would be able to track him.  He had friends and people in the deep web but he wasn’t sure which of them had sold him out.

You would tell him it was fine but to begin with it kind of wasn’t.  It was hard working with him always around.  It was hard to relax.  Letting a strange man stay with you occasionally felt like the stupidest thing you could possibly have done.  But as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months it became fine.  He helped out around the apartment, cleaning, filing your paintings.  He worked in the garden.  He fixed those little niggling issues that had been plaguing the place.  He helped you with some IT things, setting up a website to organize clients to come through and to sell paintings online.  He kept saying these things weren’t his expertise but he did them without being asked anyway.

He started doing science in a corner you let him set up for himself.  Often just checking his own blood.  Not that he exactly had a lab anymore.  You’d bought a few second-hand things for him on eBay.  You felt like you owed him for the things he had done for you, even though he said he’d done them because he owed you for what you’d done for him.

You missed the Hulk occasionally but there were times when you could see a green glint in his eyes or he’d smile a certain way and you could see him as clear as day.

On paper, you and Bruce Banner were so different.  He was quiet and analytical.  He liked logic and structure.  Science was his passion and put so much of himself into it.  Whereas you were chaotic and noisy.  You liked mess and sound.  You were an artist right down to your core.  Yet somehow you just worked well together.  Gradually you realized that this wasn’t just the feeling you had for your friends.  You were actually a little bit in love with him.

It was a Wednesday night and you were taking a bath.  You had a bath pillow behind your head and there were candles burning on the windowsill.  You had thrown a bath bomb in the water and now you sat soaking in the vanilla scented water that swirled, pink and blue around you.

There was a knock on the door and when you told him it was safe, Bruce came in holding two mugs in his hands.

“Made you tea.”  He said offering you a cup.

You took it and had a sip watching Bruce as he sat on the end of the tub.

“I made contact with a friend of an old colleague.  I haven’t said who I am exactly or where.  I think he might be able to help me with at least a part of my problem and if he’s gone, then the military might stop caring about me too.”  He said.

“I wish you wouldn’t call him a problem.”  You said putting your cup down on the corner of the bath.  

Bruce sighed.  “You don’t know what it’s like.  I lose time.  He destroys things.  I never know if I’ve hurt or killed people when I come back.”

You rubbed his leg, leaving a wet patch on his pants.  “I know.  But he’s not bad.  I think he’s trying to protect you.”

“He hates me,”  Bruce said.

You shrugged.  “If you say so.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment.  He just sat holding his tea and looking down into the colorful water.

“Why don’t you get in?”  You asked.

He looked at you startled.  “What?”

“Get in with me.”  You repeated.

He looked around the room and a deep blush crept into his cheeks.  “But…”

“I’ve seen you naked before.  And you’re comfortable enough to just be sitting there.  Why not?”  You asked.  It wasn’t a demand.  Just a suggestion.  He looked at you trying to assess if you were serious before putting his own mug down and getting up.

He stripped off his clothes turned away from you like he was trying to keep his modesty.

“You want me to close my eyes?”  You asked.

He shrugged a little and turned to face you pushing his pants down and quickly stepping into the water.  The water level rose right to the lip but didn’t spill over.  There was a moment where Bruce didn’t seem to know where he wanted to put his feet, but eventually, he nestled them in on each side of your hips.

“You don’t seem very relaxed.”  You teased.

“I just - you don’t think this is weird?”  He asked.

“I would have thought given how we met, nothing is really that weird.”  You answered relaxing back in the water.  He kept staring at you, his body stiff and uncomfortable looking.  “Bruce.  You didn’t have to get in you know.”

He didn’t say anything, he just kept staring.  “I like you too, you know?”

You looked him in the eye.  “I know.”

“It can’t happen.  I want it to.  But… I have such a thin hold and if he comes out…”  He said.

“What?  I’d show him my art and we’d do some painting together?  It’s not like my loft isn’t big enough to hold him.”  You shot back.  “I know him, Bruce.  Better than you do.”

Bruce sighed and looked you over.  For a moment you thought he was angry at you. He suddenly lunged forward making the water from the bath splash violently over the side and his mouth was on yours.  You wrapped your arms around him and sinking back into the water and smiling into the kiss.

// NEXT

[thechildoflightning]

JKSF Jobs

I got asked awhile ago by the lovely @mewithanie if I could write about everyone’s jobs in jksf if it sparked my interest. It did spark my interest, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it into a one-shot or story, so take a tumblr post bullet-style explanation instead!

Read on to find out all about the jobs Patton, Roman, Logan, and Virgil hold in just keep stumbling forward (baby im waiting for you)

tw: suicide (oc), PTSD and trauma (mentioned only), mentions of drugs, alcohol, and school shootings.

Patton

Runs a non-profit

Non-Profit pairs up with schools

Non-Profit is an art therapy center focused on increasing connection within teenagers and allowing them an appropriate outlet for emotional turmoil

Patton’s group generally gets placed on ‘high-risk’ campuses or campuses that have incidents happen at them

‘High-risk’ in this case is defined by higher than normal suicide rates, low attendance rates, high-levels of illegal activity (generally drug and alcohol use), high rate of poor mental health, more than average amounts of cheating, etc

Instances involve things like excessive inappropriate school-wide behavior (ie. all the kids getting drunk and disorderly at a school event) as well as shocking incidents (student death from suicide, overdose, drunk driving, or things such as school shootings)

Some kids come by choice, others are referred through a suspension exchange program

Pretty much, a kid gets suspended but can choose to go to the group’s meetings instead of facing suspension

Kids get referred for suspensions that deal with violence, drug use, alcohol use, excessive absences, and so forth

The idea behind it is that suspended the kid will only negatively impact the kids record and give no reason to change behavior, while the group can help get to the root of the issue and work towards solving/improving that instead

Other kids go by choice bc they’re looking for extra support, a healthy outlet, advice, etc

They have weekly after school meetings (per each district, with one focal school in each one. The program is currently seven districts wide)

They also have lunch drop-ins were you can come make art, chill, get a snack, pet a therapy dog, and other stuff

One of Patton’s first schools was the same school Virgil works at

Patton generally leads the entire non-profit and has delegates to deal with the different districts

He handles the school/district that Virgil is at, though he attempts to go to as many things at the other districts as he can

Does a lot of outside work promoting the program to school and school boards, but is starting to delegate a lot of that work to others so he can focus on the kids instead of the bureaucratic shit

Has had to cut back on individual involvement and delegate more as the work and stress from running an entire non-profit has taken a large toll on his health related to chronic illness

He is Not Happy about this fact, but it’s for his health and he needs it. His spouses help support in any ways that they can.

Roman

Theater Boi

He is a director for a local theater company that is actually not half-bad

Enjoys the heck out of it

Went into college planning to become an actor

And boy does he love acting and the truth is? He was good enough. He could have become an actor. 

But somehow he finds it even more magical running everything behind the acting (and so so much more work, god he never realized how much Work This Was)

So he joins a theater company and he slowly works his way up

At first he comes in as assistant choreographer 

He’s young and they don’t think much of it, but the show genuinely improves by his individual suggestions and work and wait, who the fuck is this kid and how do we hang onto him?

He makes his way up quite quickly, sliding his way into assistant directly and then co-director and then suddenly the director’s leaving and now he’s the director

It happens fast and it’s very very exciting but he’s also honestly a little overwhelming and he’s never been good at managing large tasks without procrastinating bc executive dysfunction (see this post and this one about Roman and ADHD)

And now he is The Director and an entire production is depending on him. Everything. All of it. And it was what he was looking for but it’s a lot.

The first time he’s on his own, it goes okay

It’s by far not the best the company has done, but it’s also not the worst and the company is pretty supportive of his jump to director and the people who have been there longer help him learn to delegate tasks

And so he tries again, and he does better, and he just continues to get better from there

There’s just one hiccup: the scenographer

Basically the scenographer Does Not Like Roman and it creates Conflict

(In my head I sorta imagine the boss character Joan played when they were playing Thomas as Roman as Joan as the boss character in that one part of “Can LYING Be Good?”)

Luckily, Deceit later takes that position, and him and Roman work way better together and pull off some pretty bomb ass productions

Roman has been asked to join other companies before- specifically travelling companies and work on Specific Productions- which is very cool and very exciting but he decides he’d rather do what he’s doing now bc 

a) he enjoys the rhythm of his work. b) larger productions are more stress. c) he doesn’t want to be gone from his spouses. And d) he gets a lot of positivity and meaning out of what he does now and doesn’t see a reason to change that

Every summer he also runs the local chapter of Shakespeare in the park. 

He does act in these as well bc it’s completely volunteer based. Deceit also acts in these with him and these two theater dorks have way to much fun together

They may or may not of kidnapped Trixie for one of the productions (with Virgil’s consent of course)

Logan

Logan works for a company that considers themselves as a “research and problem-solving team for the improvement of marine environments”

Basically, Logan researches issues that negatively impact marine life and helps come up solutions to improve or solve these issues

Most of what he does is cycle through data that other researchers collect and figure out what that data means and how it connects

He looks at a lot of abstract numbers and pulls them together to state exactly what the numbers are reporting 

From there he brings that research to a board that forms a hypothesis and then comes up with potential solutions

These solutions are often considered very progressive and liberal and as such cause a lot of debate

Solutions range from legal changes (laws reducing companies waste, laws to prevent oil spills, protection laws around certain species/habitats, etc) to inventions (boats that clean the ocean, replication of habits to help support species that can’t live outside of a certain ecosystem, etc)

The company Logan works for has had numerous very successful projects and many of these projects were successful bc of Logan’s involvement

Logan’s spouses are very very proud of this fact

Logan is modest af and brushed it off

Logan’s had quite a few articles published in scientific journals and his findings/theories/work have also made it to national news in the past

Logan himself has actually been asked to present some of his stuff on the news multiple times. He refuses each time and someone else goes in his place.

Does this mean that person gets a lot of credit that should be assigned to Logan? Yes. Does that person feel bad? They do and try to give credit to Logan. Does Logan care? No, no he does not. 

Logan could care less about credit, he just cares about marine ecosystems and That’s Literally It

Seriously, people ask him things like “does he understand the ‘political implications’ of his job” or “Are you okay with your team constantly stealing your work” and he’s just like “Fish are cool. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Logan has also done more hands-on experience which has included cool adventures that included scuba diving trips to study coral reef damage, spending days in heavy wetlands, and swimming with sharks

His spouses think that this is the coolest thing and Logan agrees a 1000%

He usually works on research because that’s Where He’s Comfortable, but the occasional planned (it has to be planned) research trip is always exciting

Logan also has so much passion for his job. So much passion. It’s sort of an agreed upon deal in the house that when Logan comes home he will generally Need To Infodump because his job is The Coolest

Because of this, a time period between him getting off work and them eating dinner is designated Logan Infodumping Time

Generally this happens while they cook (because as mentioned a few times, Logan is the best cook)

Even if his spouse aren’t helping w/ dinner, they usually try to stick around and listen because a) Logan is Cute when talking about things he enjoys. b) he talks about interesting stuff. c) even if they don’t find it interesting, Logan’s enthusiasm is infectious and they just Have To Listen

Virgil

Virgil is a high school English teacher

He generally teaches sophomore regular English and junior AP English

Classes can shift slightly depending on the year

Virgil was at first a very distant teacher and didn’t connect with his students

Like his students thought he was a fine teacher bc he wasn’t too strict and didn’t assign a bunch of hw, but no one really liked him either

About his fourth year teaching, a kid at Virgil’s school got suicide baited and ended up taking their own life

It was a Big Deal (and is also how Patton found his way to Virgil’s campus)

After the event, there were lots of discussions and groups at the school, and each teacher talked to their classes

Virgil’s discussion was,, impactful to say the least

He talked to the students frankly about the issue and opened discussion to the topic while making sure to keep it respectful and calling students out on shit while at the same time helping support everyone who was struggling

He ended it with a small speech about self-worth, what it meant, and the struggle to achieve it, especially when everyone around you is pulling you down

It spreads like wildfire throughout the school and suddenly Virgil is a very well-liked teacher because He Gets It, y’know

(to clarify- his student’s do not know about his suicide attempts or personally history regarding his PTSD and experiences, that said, they all know there’s something different about this teacher. Something that makes him understand in a way others don’t)

He also has just this snark that students fall in love with

(One of his class’ learning targets for an entire week was just “We’re going to stick it to The Man. How you ask? Well we’ll find out!”

There was also a situation one year when one of Logan’s articles turned up in a multiple choice quiz and No One, including Virgil knew the answers (Virgil did have the answer key but it Did Not Make Sense)

He had to actually call Logan to figure it out

Turns out, most of them was the quiz maker’s mistake because he was asking questions about “author’s tone” and “author’s purpose” and Logan’s just like,, I didn’t meant to have any tone? I don’t understand tone? My purpose was I like fish? Why are they saying it’s to educate the average person??

(pretty much they analyze Logan’s article from a neurotypical standpoint, which Logan Is Not, so it doesn’t work. Virgil scraps the quiz.)

[rovvboat]

Painted Flaws - Colossus/Piotr Rasputin x villian!Reader

Part 11

A/N: send an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist! Lmk how you feel about this series!

Summary: You’re a villian with a moral grey area. You meet Piotr at an art exhibit, but both of you are there for completely different reasons. Though the attraction was inevitable, will it be enough? A growing passionate love wrought with secrecy, both of you try to move through this maze. But when the ball drops, what will you choose?

word count: 1.6k

The cold, light morning air fills the room – shifting the calm of the night into the warm ebbings of the day that snuck into Piotrs’ room.

He takes a deep breath and sighs as he awakens to the sound of the early birds, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes, and gently prods at his face. 

And that’s when he remembers the dream he had.

There you were, in his arms, pulling his face into a kiss that struck like searing flames in his heart – as if, in that moment, the rest of the world faded away, like the ground beneath him crumbled and brought you to your own place; you, pulling away for a fraction of a second to catch your breath – looking warmly into his eyes, slowing down time for him – before catching him back in another fond kiss.

Piotrs’ cheeks fill up with a slight tingle – as he tries to use his hand to cover an embarrassed smile at the thought of the kiss. His lips broaden as he scoffs against his palm, before brushing it down his face

 What are you doing to me, Y/N?

 He lazily scratches the light stubble on his jawline – before standing up to stretch out his arms and legs, and gets started for the day.

 As he got though the errands of the day – checking on Beasts’ progress in the lab, any disturbances in the city, and all the other things that came with being an X-Man – he felt like a schoolboy again, thinking about his crush whilst going through his errands – when he could just as easily recreate the kiss again.

He strides back to his room, carefully unplugging his phone from his charger, when he sees a text notification from you.

-

You thumb nervously on your phone screen, writing and rewriting the words to further your plans to end things where they were. You surely weren’t going to do it through text.

I would be the biggest asshole in the world, and then some, if I did that.

You finally decide to send the least risky message you could think of.

 [Good morning, Piotr.]

 It doesnt take even a minute to get a buzzing response from Piotr.

 [I was just thinking about you, my sweet lady... I hope you are well today?]

 You let out a huff, shyly biting back a smile that would otherwise fluster you further. You start typing out your response.

 [I would be better if you were here w-]

 You cut yourself off from the thoughts of flirty banter, immediately backspacing the sentence as you stop yourself from showing any sense of affection towards him – when the typing bubble danced on your screen, before another one of his texts slides up onto the conversation.

 [I would love for us to have some breakfast. Perhaps, spend the day together?]

 There’s an ache that sidles into the place where normally joy would be.

I can’t lead him on like this. But I don’t know how to finish things off… without him getting suspicious.

You bite your bottom lip, flinching at the thought of having to plan out the perfect escape, from something – someone – so kind and wonderful and sweet and…

Your face drops to the side in a show of submission – to your chosen ideals, and the consequences that all came with it.

You take a deep breath, letting your calculative side take reign of the situation. Emotions weren’t going to help you now, nor were they needed to complete your personal goals.

You quickly type out a message for Piotr, then click your phone off.

[I would love to, Piotr. But I have work to do. Maybe next time.]

You ignore the next few buzzings of your phone as you walk into the medical research laboratories, down the halls filled with the several people in labcoats rushing up and down, from room to room.

You stop in front of a plain white door – a carbon copy of every other door in the lab – with a plaque that read:

Dr Christopher Wong.

You take a deep breath, before knocking the signature ‘’shave and a haircut, two bits’’ rhythm against the door. A deep voice rumbles a disgruntled ‘’come in’’, before you turn the knob and step inside.

The man looks up expectantly from his piles of immaculately arranged files and papers, his large framed glasses flashing back the fluorescent lights for a second when he tilts his head at you, grinning at you in greeting. You’ve known Chris for some time now – and he was one of the few reliable people you had in your long list of contacts.

‘’It’s me, Y/N.’’

‘’Prove it.’’

‘’I don’t have time for games, Chris.’’

He laughs unsettlingly – ‘’and I don’t have time to be giving the wrong serums to the wrong people. Especially when it comes to messing with your Boss’ plans.’’

You sigh, before pulling out your identification card – namely, the one you used for underground work – and hold it up to him.

‘’Hmmm, alright. You’re lucky that I owe you a favour – and a big one at that. Going against your own boss? That insane lunatic? You must be really brave, or really stupid.’’

‘’I learnt all I needed from you, so you tell me,’’ you smile at him smugly, and he only laughs at your retort.

‘’Well, I’m the one helping you out, so I’m in the midst of figuring that one out as well,’’ he quips, before reaching under the table to pull out a drawer. When his hands come back into view, you see that he’s holding a thick tube of clear liquid.

‘’The anti-mutant serum you gave me – I ran tests on mutant cell cultures. It’s extremely potent, and I commend the genius who came up with it. From what I gather from your intel, it has the ability to kill anyone with the mutant gene – very similar to the Legacy Virus. It is also interesting – because when I tested it on latent x-gene cells, the one you brought from the boy, it seemed to activate them instead of kill them. The problem is, however, it would also be toxic to non-mutants -- which is something the official file for the anti-mutant serum failed to inform.’’

‘’Yeah, they had to cut their experiments short when I messed with their plans,’’ you fold your arms in satisfaction.

‘‘This one, however –’‘ he waves the vial of clear liquid infront of you – ‘‘will reverse all the effects of that anti-mutant serum, but it must be administered within 24 hours. I have some extra batches in store if you need them. And a copy of how to synthesise them saved and ready to be sent to anyone who’ll need it.’‘ 

‘’Thanks so much for doing this for me, Chris.’’

‘’Just don’t die, okay kid? I still need shooter in the game,’’ he jokes as he hands you the antidote.

You smirk and give him a curt nod, as you secure the antidote into your slingpack, and step out of the room.

 -

Colossus looks to his phone, worried at your lack of response.

Though he knew you were probably just busy, there was something that was gnawing at his heart.

‘’Trouble in paradise?’’

Colossus’ head jerks up in surprise as Cable walks into the briefing room, grabbing a chair as he sits across from Colossus.

‘’No, it’s…’’ Colossus snaps his phone back into his pockets, fumbling at an excuse for his uneasy demeanour.

‘’Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s just busy – life gets in the way,’’ Cable advises as he flips through the briefing notes and results from the DNA testing labs. ‘’Damn fucking shame we can’t pin a name to this fucking mystery lady, though. We’re probably going to have to infiltrate her last place of business,’’ he turns to Colossus, ‘’maybe a little distraction will help get the nerves off your mind. Besides, whatever these assholes are doing takes priority. I’m sure she’ll understand your duties as –‘’

‘’She does not know that I am an X-Man. I have not… told her,’’ Colossus looks away, ashamed to admit it to his teammate.

Cable observes Colossus for a moment, before piping up.

‘’Well, even if she doesn’t know – and though I personally think you should better get around to telling her – I’m sure she’ll stick around for you. She loves you, doen’t she?’’

Colossus looks up to respond, when NTW bounds into the room with a file in her hands.

‘’We have a lead.’’

***

Taglist!

@emma-frxst @chromecutie @fluffymadamina @master-sass-blast@marvelhead17 @onthequill @candle-light-writings

[thebeethathums]

Observers - 44

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings:None

With your voice what it was, you took a few days to recover and you spent that time avoiding Sherlock to appease John as you coped with all the emotions that had come up. It wasn’t hard, Sherlock was focused on the case and both he and John speculated about the involvement of whoever this Moriarty person was in hushed whispers when you were out of earshot. At this point, you didn’t have the energy to be curious and instead let them be, opting to spend the time drawing by the window or down in your flat. Days seemed to meld into each other and before you knew it, John was tentatively approving you to go back to a somewhat normal schedule.

At the end of the week, you went back to work intending to make up for the missed time to Annie by working the entire day without pay and found that, as usual, Mycroft came in and sat in your section. You could feel him looking you over as you moved to finish serving a couple of other patrons before coming over to greet him, “Bonjour, Monsieur Holmes. How may I help you today?” He gave you a soft smile, “Just tea for me today, (F/n)… You know you can drop the formalities. It is good to see you back. Your injuries are healing well I take it?”  You gave him a wide grin, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Yes, quite well and I know, Mycroft. I just enjoy greeting you that way so very much. I’ll be right back.” He chuckled softly, watching you skip away to get what he’d requested of you. You got someone to cover the rest of your section before returning to sit down across from him as he noted, “You look nice today. I see you’ve been shopping.” You blushed lightly with a nod, “John insisted I get a work outfit that fit me properly.”

You felt pretty today, funny how a change of clothes could do that. You were wearing the same simple outfit as before, a white button down and black trousers, but your pants now hugged your waist nicely and the button down had a more feminine v-neck then the one you had had before. You’d also gotten a little fancy with your hair and covered the bruises on your neck expertly. You had only been chatting with Mycroft for a few minutes, mostly about the case, when Sherlock walked through the door looking for you. You gave him a little wave, motioning that he should come over, and he did, glaring daggers at Mycroft the entire way. You greeted him warmly, “Bonjour, Sherlock, What are you doing here?” Mycroft smirked at him, “Yes, little brother, what are you doing here?” He narrowed his eyes at his brother suspiciously as he flatly stated, “I could ask you the same thing,” and then turned to you, his expression softening, “I need to speak to you alone for a moment.” You tilted your head at him and then looked to Mycroft politely, “Would you mind, Mycroft? My break is nearly over as it is.” He shook his head, “Go, my dear, he will behave like a child for the rest of the day otherwise.” You let out a soft giggle, making Sherlock’s fists clench, “That is very true. Shall I see you tomorrow?” He gave a small nod, “You shall. Goodbye, (F/n).” Fed up with the situation, Sherlock pulled you away as you called, “Au revoir, Monsieur Holmes.” You let him lead you to the other side of the café, as far away from Mycroft as possible, and slid in across from him when he picked a cozy booth, “What’s up, Sherly? I hope you aren’t going to make it a habit of showing up at my work simply because you're bored.” “You don’t seem to mind when Mycroft does it,” he stated flatly, pursing his lips unhappily. Your lips twitched up in a smile as you teased, “My, my, is the great Sherlock Holmes jealous?” He didn’t respond, working his jaw slightly, and you brushed your hand across his knee, making his eyes snap to you curiously, “Sherlock, I have no interest in your brother, certainly you can see that. Not to mention the fact that he hardly has any interest in me either. If anything, we are friends and even that is a stretch. He acts the way he does when you are around because he knows it bothers you.” He was still pouting and you sighed, getting up to sit next to him and cautiously lean your head on his shoulder, “You may come to visit me every day if you’d like. I would gladly give up my time with Mycroft for time with you… but I warn you it’s pretty boring. Now would you please tell me why you’re here before I have to get back to work?” He seemed satisfied with this, as well as your little display of affection, and a hesitant expression crossed his face before he leaned his head lightly on yours, murmuring, “I brought you something.” You pulled away from his shoulder to look up at him in confusion and he reached into his jacket, producing a new set of art pens and a single teal daisy before hurriedly shoving them into your hands. You let out a surprised giggle, putting the daisy behind your ear as you ran your hands over the pens, and then looked up at him with a questioning frown, “W-Why? You don’t have to buy me things just because John said to treat me right…” He tucked the daisy more securely behind your ear, letting his fingers stroke down the curve of it as his thumb traced along your cheekbone, and softly explained, “I couldn’t help but notice your pens were running low and I knew you were planning on replacing them when you had enough money, but based on the amount you draw, the fact that the final two you have left from your old set are both running low on ink, and your average weekly wages… you were going to run out long before you could afford them. I’ve saved you from having to wait.” Your breath caught softly as the skin under his fingers warmed, a fact that he noted as it made his heart flip. You flashed him a giddy grin before leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “Thank you, Sherlock. I really appreciate it.” He was glad to see you genuinely happy, hoping that it could distract you from the sadness he noticed in your eyes, and let a tiny smile tug at his lips despite rolling his eyes at your little public display of affection. In truth, it had been the only way he could think of to improve your mood that didn’t involve an overt touchy-feely type moment and he could write it off in his mind as a practical gift for both him and you in that he could avoid the feelings as well as your inevitable annoyance at running out of pens. Your phone buzzed, notifying you that your break was over and you needed to get back to work, and you sighed, “I have to go… Would you like me to get you anything? Coffee? Or maybe a biscuit?” He had watched your expression go from happy to flat and almost dejected and didn’t like it one bit, catching your wrist as you got up to straighten your apron, “Come home with me.” You tilted your head at him as you frowned, “I can’t, Sherlock. I already skipped out on Annie last time I worked.” “I need you for an experiment.” You rolled your eyes, “Can you get John to do it? Just don’t tell him what you're doing. By the time he realizes-“ “It needs to be you.” You sighed, trying to hide the excitement over what it could possibly be that was bubbling up inside you, and firmly tried again, “Sherlock, I can’t. I’d be happy to when I get home but for now, you’ll have to wait. I’ll bring you some tea and a croissant.”

He made a small face but nodded, watching you leave the table to get it for him, and then locked eyes with Mycroft across the room. His eyes narrowed when his brother gave him an amused look with a teasingly raised brow as if to say ‘I saw all that just now’ and he was about to retaliate when you returned with his tea.

“Stop allowing him to antagonize you, Sherlock,” you hummed softly, setting it in front of him, “Enjoy your tea and then go home. I’m sure there is some way you can annoy John for entertainment until I’m finished.”

“I’ll wait here.”

You blinked a few times, processing that, “Are you-”

“I am perfectly capable of waiting, (F/n). Don’t ask pointless questions.”

You rolled your eyes and went back to your work, glancing at him occasionally, and after about an hour, it because very clear that he was not, in fact, capable of waiting. He was certainly trying... but failing, rather like a cat that wanted attention. When he ‘accidentally’ spilled the small bowl of sugar cubes you’d brought for his tea across the table and the adjacent floor with a small crash, you came to clean it with a hiss, “Quit making a mess and go home.”

“Only if you come with me,” he insisted and you gave up, “Fine. I will go ask Annie if I can leave… again.”

He gave a smug smirk as you swished off to find Annie and came back with her trailing you, a look of guarded curiosity on her face. She offered him a small smile, “May I ask why exactly you need (F/n) to come home with you?” Deducing a number of things from her in a blink, he decided to answer honestly, “I intend to conduct an experiment that will allow her to begin painting again.” You gaped at him for a moment, “That’s what this is about? I’ve given up, Sherlock! I can’t dwell on something that’s never going to happen again.” Both he and Annie ignored your protest and she gave him a small approving grin, “For that, Monsieur Holmes, you may have her. I wish you success.”

Tags <3:

@team-free-sherlock  @multifandom-ramblings @madshelily @severusminerva @yes-but-theyre-my-dorks @smitemewiththysherlock @not-fandom-addicted @unknownwonder @deducingdevil @aviien @mrsfrankensteinsworld @lolamurphy @bakerstreethound @musical-doll-x @protectteamfreewill @delightful-pirate @lilcutekittykat @broke-and-overwhelmed @adri1ii @turtle-at-the-disco @fanfictionsilove @chasedbyhowlingwolves

[afterganon]

After Ganon Part Two

Zelda awoke in an unfamiliar room, daylight breaking through the window to her left. The bed she occupied felt soft as the goose down beds of Hyrule Castle... Or what was once the castle. Below her pots and pans clanked, a sizzling faintly calling her to the cure for her empty stomach. At the foot of the bed were her new folded clothes, their blue and white pattern reminiscent of her old blouse, but padded with heavier material. The pants were a strong leather, with metal kneecaps and a pair of good boots to match them, metal greaves reinforcing the shoes. Changing quickly into the well tailored clothes, Impa having remembered her fittings after so long apart, Zelda made her way downstairs. A stair creaked beneath her foot. Link spun in an instant with a butcher’s knife in hand... Only for it to clatter against the floor when he met her eyes. The knight looked down to his hand in horror and Zelda crossed the kitchen floor to pull him into a tight embrace. Over his shoulder she saw the finely chopped ingredients of whatever he had been cooking. Did he always know how to cook? Link’s arms came around her, and although she was the one comforting him, Zelda couldn’t help but feel safe in the circle of her champions arms. She stroked the back of his head slowly. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I understand. It’s okay.” They parted, Link smiling thankfully as he returned to the simmering concoction on his stove. “What are you making Link?” The princess inquired, taking a seat at the table and looking around with interest at the house of her champion. Upon the walls were weapons and shields of legendary might, enchanted bows, swords of great magic and science. Nestled between an Ancient Shield and a Savage Lynel Shield was a simple Pot Lid, something that made Zelda chuckle. Link took the recipe he was following from the counter beside him and handed it over to his guest as way of an answer. “Hearty Salmon Meunière?” The princess asked with raised eyebrows. “How long have you been cooking for?” Link cocked his head and smiled in confusion, jostling his damp hair. “Not long, I wanted to have some food ready before you woke up.” Zelda giggled, “No, I mean when did you start learning to cook like this?” Her champion frowned, plating her meal up carefully. The young woman waited patiently, knowing that Link would speak once his thoughts were organized. “When I woke up, Hyrule was gone and I didn’t know anything or anyone. I just knew I had to fight, to survive, to save you.” He put the meal in front of her, along with a knife and fork. He waited for her to begin eating before speaking again. “I had to cook my own food, so I figured I should learn to make it an enjoyable experience.” “Are you not going to eat?” Zelda asked in concern, but Link only smiled as he gestured to a dirty plate beside the stove. “Oh you already ate... What time is it?” Link chuckled. “You were very tired. you slept from noon yesterday until... I think it’s almost sunset.” Zelda’s eyes widened in surprise, her mouth filled with salmon and the delicious sauce that Link had made for it. No wonder she was so hungry! The princess swallowed her food and looked sheepishly at Link, who was delighted to see her wolf down his cooking in a far from refined manner. “I’m sorry.” She said, taking a cloth from the center of the table and dabbing at her mouth and chin. “My manners are atrocious.” Link shook his head emphatically. “Food must be good.” He said with a wink, smiling at Zelda’s laughter. The meal passed in companionable quiet, Zelda complimenting Link’s cooking at many points and Link blushing at many points. When she was done the princess picked up her plate and and collected Link’s dish, before looking around in confusion. Link stood up and tried to take the dishes from her. “No, I want to help.” Zelda insisted. “Where do you wash up?” Link stood for a moment, amused and appreciative that the princess was offering to, for what Link assumed was the first time in her life, wash dirty dishes rather than have him do it for her. He shrugged and opened the front door, grabbing his pot, pan, and a bar of soap from the shelf beside the door on his way past. Outside he gave Epona a pat as he passed her and squatted by the pond, scooping sand into a pot, soaping the water, and then scouring it vigorously. Zelda watched him for a few moments, then mimicked them. They washed in silence, before Zelda huffed. “Surely there’s an easier way?” “Hot water and a wire scrubber clean things faster.” Link nodded. “I don’t like using wire brushes though, they scratch the plates and cookware.” “Did you learn all of this after you woke?”  Link nodded, his movements practical and efficient.  “When did you buy this house?” Zelda asked curiously, quietly noting the room at the back of said house.  “I had been journeying for two months, crossed the Gerudo Desert, climbed to the peaks of the Hebra Mountains.” Link put his cleaned dishes to the side, taking cutlery from the pile beside Zelda without a struggle. “I was getting stronger, saved Vah Naburis and Vah Ruta, but each time I was hurt or exhausted and crawled back to a stable or a nearby town it didn’t feel quite right...” Link turned and shaded his eyes from the setting sun, looking towards the colourful, boxy houses across his bridge. “The people who live there, Bolson and Karson, along with my friend Hudson, built this house and gathered almost all of the furniture in it for... A fair price.”  “How much is a fair price?” Zelda frowned, concerned that he had been swindled.  “I could afford it well enough.” Link shrugged. “Rupees weren’t important to me at the time, I was focused on getting stronger and freeing the Divine Beasts.”  Zelda’s next question was cut off, as light footsteps hit the wooden slats of Link’s bridge at a rapid pace. Link stood up and took his washed dishes back to the house, with a curious princess in tow. A child was knocking on Link’s door frantically, crying as she did so. “MISTER LINK! MISTER LINK PLEASE I NEED HELP!”  “Mister Link” quickly rushed to her side. “Aster calm down! What’s wrong, you’re meant to be home by now.”  Aster drew in a ragged breath, tears and snot running down her face. “The monsters took Teebo!” Link’s comforting expression became thunderous in a moment, his muscles stiffening as he firmly held Aster’s shoulders. “Where did they take him Aster? Which direction? Quickly!” “W-we were playing in Mi-Midla Woods.” Aster croaked, wiping at her face. “And they came out of the trees, a big monster took Teebo and ran towards the big tower, the blue one!” Link nodded and dashed inside the house to arm himself, Zelda knelt down and hugged the girl to her. “Shhhh, it’s going to be okay, Link will find him.”  “Th-they eat people!” Aster cried into the princess’s shirt. “It’ll be my fault, it was my idea to play hide and seek!” “No no, you mustn’t say that.” Zelda said, rocking gently from side to side. “This is no one’s fault but the monsters who took your friend. It is because of you that he could be saved.” Link burst from the house at a dead sprint, rushing past Zelda and Aster, trusting in the princess to keep the child safe and calm. The champion’s pace did not let up, not when he rounded the house, crossed the paddock, or when he approached the cliff beyond.  He jumped, Revali’s Gale catching his glider as he swung it above his head and launching him into the sky. Zelda gasped behind him, shocked to see Revali’s power lift Link upwards, but she quickly overcame her shock to attend to Aster.  Link was flying, wind whipping at his clothes and hair, the Bokoblin Tree Fort rapidly coming into focus before him. His eyes scanned the space quickly, accounting for the three Bokoblins (Two red, one blue) and the larger Moblin. Link growled under his breath, the damn thing had skin too dark to be blue and in its hands was a sack. A sack that moved. Link landed behind their lookout, a red Bokoblin that squealed as Link ran it through with his glowing Ancient Sword, turning on the balls of his feet to arc his blade around and pass through its blue friend’s neck. Above him the last Bokoblin squeaked in fear and scrambled for its bow, but the Hero had already found his own. An arrow buried into the flesh between that monster’s eyes, and another slammed into the black Moblin’s spine, the creature grunted and turned, dropping the sack in surprise.  Good. Thought Link. Now I don’t have to worry about hurting Teebo. The Moblin ran at him with a bellow of rage, its claymore coming down in a vicious swing that Link nimbly ducked under and rolled behind, his Ancient Sword flaring once more as he cut a path across the monster’s back. The beast roared as the arrow wound Link had given it moments before was sliced with that burning weapon. The Moblin swung a desperate and wide sweep with its sword, catching Link’s left arm to the Hero’s surprise and chagrin. Pressing the advantage, the monster stepped forwards and gripped the claymore in a double handed manner that... Left it wide open. Link surged forwards and the point of his sword found the soft flesh under that Moblin’s chin, unhindered there it continued up into the massive creature’s brain.  Right in the off switch. Link grimaced as his sword shattered from the strain.  Wasting no time, he ran to the upper platform, taking his dagger from its sheath and carefully cutting open the sack.  “TAKE THIS!” Teebo screamed, slamming his tiny fist into Link’s jaw.  The champion rolled with the punch, trying to save Teebo’s knuckles as best he could, still the young lad left out a pained yelp as his fist connected with the chiseled stone of Link’s face.  The hero rubbed at his mouth indignantly, but with a twinge of pride. He noticed Teebo’s glasses by the boy’s feet and bent down to pick them up, wary this time of the boy’s powerful martial arts.  Gently, but still with some haste, Link slipped the glasses back onto Teebo’s head and stepped back. The boy blinked as his eyes adjusted, but they flew wide as he finally recognized the kind young man that lived across the bridge.  “Mi-Mister Link?” He said, tears welling in his eyes as he rushed forwards to cling onto his rescuer’s side. “MISTER LINK!”  Link laughed, more in relief and to assure Teebo that it was okay, that he was alright, than out of any particular humour in the situation. “Hey there T-man.” “I’m sorry! I’m sorry Link!” Teebo sobbed as Link picked him up and carried him down from the fort, careful to avoid the monster remains.  Huh, that’s weird. Link thought to himself. Their bodies haven’t disappeared. “Sorry for what T-man?” Link asked jovially, swinging the boy around so that he was seated on the hero’s shoulders.  “For- For hitting you.” Teebo said, sniffling as he tried to stop crying.  “Teebo, if I wanted to be friends with anyone, it’s the kid that comes out of a sack ready to punch monsters.” Link told him, reaching up to pat the boy’s side. “You’ve got a mean right hook, if I didn’t flinch you’d have taken my head off.”  “My hand hurts.” Teebo replied simply.  “They do that, after you hit someone.” Link chuckled. “You should thank Aster when we get back, she ran all the way to my house so that we’d know you were in trouble.”  “I th-thought Bolson went home when it started getting dark?” Teebo asked, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Oh that’s right, you were off with Azu when I got back.” Link muttered. “I have a friend staying with me, I think you’ll like her, T-man.”  “Is she from Lurelin?”  Link scanned the forest as they passed through, wary of any opportunistic monsters that may have heard the fight. “Noooo... She’s from the castle.”  “The castle?” Teebo asked suspiciously. “No one is from the castle, monsters live there.” “Not anymore.”  “What do you mean not anymore?” “I made them go away.” Link hedged. “Like the monsters that took you.” Teebo, atop the shoulders of a man that had just beaten more monsters than he had seen in his life, thought on this for a moment. “So she’s from the castle?” Link smiled. “Why don’t I tell you about it tomorrow? Tamana must be out of her head worrying about you.” “Promise?” “Promise. We’ll play tag afterwards yeah?” Back in the village, Link found Tamana’s house empty, and her Cuccos untended. Sighing, the champion decided to take Teebo to Aster, so that she knew he was safe.  They were barely halfway across Link’s bridge when a cry of “TEEBO!” came from the house, and both Tamana and Aster rushed to the boy. Seeing his mother and friend brought fresh tears to the youngster’s eyes and he ran to his mother’s embrace, Aster joining the hug as Tamana held her son close.  The young mother looked up to Link from where she clutched Teebo as the champion stepped closer. “Thank you, by the Goddess thank you Link. If anything had happened to him I wou-” “Don’t worry Tamana.” Link quickly interrupted, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Teebo had it wrapped up by the time I got there, half a dozen Bokoblins beaten to a pulp, right T-man? All I had to do was wrestle the Moblin down.”  Teebo, red eyed and wet cheeked, shook his head. “Mister Link killed a black Moblin Momma, if he wasn’t... wasn’t there then-” “Then the men from the village would have saved him instead.” Link said firmly. “Dantz would have cracked their skulls with a shovel, I’ve no doubt.”  Zelda came over from the doorway, helping Tamana to her feet. “Aster rushed here as fast as she could, it’s because of her that Link got there so fast.” Tamana nodded, reaching out to give Aster a tight hug. “You’re a good friend, but please, stay. out. of. those. WOODS.”  “Yes ma’am.” Aster squeaked.  “Monsters don’t kidnap children usually.” Link said with a frown. “Tell the other kids to stay near the village from now on you two.” Aster and Teebo nodded dutifully, both trying furtively to clean themselves up.  “For now go and get some rest.” Zelda said, patting Aster on the head and giving Teebo’s shoulder a squeeze, before looking up at Tamana. “And maybe a warm bath?”  “Absolutely.” The mother nodded. “I’ll tell Medda what happened, and make sure Aster gets a good meal, maybe a new toy or a dress, I can make her a dress if I have some spare time in-” “Tamana.” Link said patiently, used to the woman’s rambling. “The kids are probably getting cold.” “Right!” Tamana nodded, taking Aster and Teebo’s hands in her own. “C’mon kids, let’s get you clean and warm.”  Link waited until they had disappeared behind the Bolson Construction display homes before he took a hissing breath and clutched at his arm, going over to the cooking pot by his house and taking several things from his belt pouches, Zelda glimpsed a fairy and some grisly looking remains in the mix before he tossed them in the pot and quickly combined the ingredients into a health elixir that he downed before it even cooled. The slash across his arm closed up, and the blood that had seeped out evaporated, swirling into a stream of mist that Link inhaled and sighed as he was righted.  “A hard fight?” Zelda asked with concern. “Ganon knocked more out of me than I realized.” Link explained sheepishly. “I let the Moblin get the better of me. I don’t like this kidnapping business, I’ll have to watch out when they come back under the blood moon.” Zelda tilted her head, confusion weighing down her brows. “Come back? Link, they won’t come back. Ganon is gone now, his power won’t resurrect the monsters anymore.” Link stopped, halted, paused, and froze all at once. His brain broke for a moment as that reality settled into his logical reasoning, before fixing itself and processing what the princess had said.  A giggle escaped him, quickly it evolved into a chuckle, and then a full blown rolling laugh. He held his stomach and doubled over as mirth overtook him.  “I can gain ground!” He exclaimed, gripping Zelda’s shoulders in joy. “I can push them back!” His grin faded as he looked to his hands, a blush spreading over his face. After the heat of battle and the joy of defeating Calamity Ganon, hugging his Princess had felt natural, expected, but now that he had a cool head? The difference in their station was never so clear. He quickly stepped back. “I- I’m sorry Princess, I didn’t mean to-” “Link.” Zelda interrupted him tiredly, stepping forwards to close the distance he had placed between them. “You don’t need to apologize for just... Just touching me.” She reached out and took his hand in hers, holding it as she spoke. “We haven’t been near one another for a century, but I feel like there is no one else I could be closer to. It’s because of you that I’m alive, that ANYONE is alive. You died because of me, and slept for a hundred years recovering, when you woke up I felt like hope had returned to the world... And fear. You had every right to deny me, to abandon me, but without your memories, without any idea who I was, you decided to listen and rescue me.”  Link’s hand gripped hers tighter. “There was no choice.”  “Of course there was.” Zelda said with a bitter huff. “You could have decided I was finally too much of a-” Link’s other hand bumped into her chin, tilting it up so that Link could look into her eyes. “If I woke up in that cave a million times over, each and every time I would walk out knowing my purpose. Save the princess.” “Why?” Zelda asked. “Because it’s your destiny?” Link shook his head, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Because if I didn’t save you, I wouldn’t be me. Just like how if you didn’t seal Ganon, you wouldn’t be you.” The two headed inside, Link pleasantly noting that Zelda had brought the dishes inside after he rushed off to save Teebo, they turned and ascended the stairs.  The tired knight sat down on his stool, lent back against the wall with one arm upon the banister and the other on his bedside drawers, propping up his head. Zelda sat down on his bed, scooting until she was lent against the wall beside the window. “Do you get injured often?” Zelda asked quietly, a tone in her voice that made Link wary.  “Not anymore, at the beginning I did, but as I improved and grew stronger there were less opponents that could worry me.” Link shifted his shoulders. “Riju thinks I could stand to carry more durable shields with me.”  “Smart advice.” Zelda said with a raised eyebrow. “Who’s Riju?”  “The Gerudo Chieftain.” Link revealed, a grin curling his lips. “She’s very young, but quick as a whip and loved by the Gerudo. You could say she has their... Seal of approval.”  Zelda smiled as Link snickered at his own joke, not quite sure why it was funny, but enjoying her stoic knight showing off his happiness. “I’d like to meet her sometime, if she’s anything like Urbosa I’m sure...”  Link looked over with a frown, finding the princess on the verge of tears as she looked to his side. At the picture of the Champions. Link was at Zelda’s side in an instant, his concerns about touching her forgotten as he embraced the young woman and tried to comfort her.  “It’s like I saw her yesterday Link.” Zelda told him, keeping a vice-like hold on his torso. “Like I saw all of them.” “They’re at rest now.” Link told her, not sure if it was the right thing to say. “I saw them briefly, after defeating the pieces of Ganon within the Divine Beasts. They guided the attack that decimated Ganon from above.” “Could... Could they still be in the Divine Beasts?” Zelda asked tentatively. “Even a piece of them?” “Maybe.” Link acknowledged. “With spirits as powerful as theirs, I wouldn’t bet against it.” Zelda grew quiet for a time, her hold on Link unbroken.  “Can I go to see them? If they truly are still there?”  “I’ll take you myself when I’ve recovered.” Link assured her. “I was planning on seeing Dorephan as soon as possible, we can visit Vah Ruta while there.”  Zelda nodded, a yawn overtaking her for a moment. “And then... I would like to travel to the Gerudo Desert, to see Vah Naboris, and Chieftain Riju.”  “That shouldn’t be a problem.” Link said, his own eyelids heavy, his muscles aching.  The champion shuffled backwards, until both he and Zelda were laying down comfortably on his bed. “We can go there first even, if you want.” “Mhhmmm.” Zelda murmured, shifting against his side. Link chuckled softly, tucking a pillow under his head and settling in. Out of his window a full moon was rising, a pale white moon.

[chaniters]

The friend-zone.

This took me infinitely longer than usual to write. Mostly because Discord is so addictive. But I think the time paid off, re-reading it several times improved it so much. I generally fumble the middle of these stories in a rush to get to the sweet finales. So I guess I’m learning? I kind of feel somewhat more confident about  the end result. 

Enjoy!

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

THE FRIEND ZONE

You walk carefully through the large dark room, trying not to drop anything.

Hollow Ground, looms ahead of you, larger than life and ready for battle.

You keep walking towards him... until you find the right spot, sliding into your seat on the left row. You pass on the popcorn and sodas to Elyse and Anathema.

Now more relaxed, you lay back, taking your seat, as you watch rapid clips from many of the Ranger’s previous movies cycling through the screen until the Producer's logo comes out from a collage of them.

Anathema Is still watching some video about kittens in his phone, while Elyise still talks to her girlfriend, giggling in a way more befitting of a young teenager.

"Hey," you say  "It's about to start!"

"Oh.. right," Anathema says putting her's in airplane mode. Elyise finally hangs up and smiles to you.

And then, the movie starts...

------Some seventh art magic later--------

You walk out, feeling bit sick. Maybe you ate too much sweet popcorn... Why do they make the buckets so large?

"Well, I'll go first... I didn't like it much..." Anathema starts. "...it's just not a very good follow-up to the Eldritch movie"

"Well duh, Eldritch was... Eldritch. A great and interesting villain makes a better movie than an ensemble of random evil guys. Eldritch took all of us to defeat in the end, remember?”. And it could have killed us all, you say to yourself. We were lucky. 

"You think so?" Elsyise asks. "I kind of enjoyed it. Seeing all the different powers and abilities facing off against each other."

"I guess it's subject to debate" Anathema concedes.

They go ahead while discussing the movie. Your thoughts lie elsewhere.

You always watch movies like this along with Ortega and Themie... And now you've kind of replaced him with Elyise. You fucking miss him. 

She turns at you.

Oh shit.

You let your shields slip for a moment and she noticed you're thinking about her and Ortega.

She says nothing and goes back to talking to Anathema.

You walk him off to his bike and say goodbye as he sets off through the streets.

"So" Elyise finally asks.

"Sorry" you begin before she does. "I keep thinking about Ortega and that fight..."

"I'm intrigued. Steel had a point. Why didn't you join the Rangers already? You and Ortega are very close... Even after that fight"

"I... " you look at her. What lie can you possibly tell her? "I don't... trust the government enough to join them" you say at last. That's not really a lie.

Her eyes widen for a second at your honest response, and then she smiles.

"That's wise," She says with a bitter smile. "No telepath ever should trust them," she says walking onwards.

"W...why?" You ask, your shields raised into impenetrable barriers.

"You're too young to know about it... Back in the day when the first of us... telepaths ... gained our powers... there was a big scare in the media. They demonized us. Some of us had gone public... and suffered for it. The government just rounded us up. And took us to camps and labs... there were... experiments."

Fuck. You know all too well about it.

"That's terrible!" you say "What... happened then?"

"I was lucky. My parents had money... they sued big time. They had to release me in the end, but most who take the hero drugs are desperate, and they had no one outside. There was never any record of them being taken either." She looks much older, tired and sad as she speaks about this. "You know... I still look for some of them... In social media. I haven't been able to find a single one yet." Her eyes are bit tearful."

"It's.. over," you say "They can't hurt you now" You are not very good with words... but you have other means. You can't help it. Your shields open and you brush your mind against her... offering her some comforting thoughts.

You used to do this... when they weren't looking.  And so did your brothers and sisters. It's how you survived.

She gasps as she realizes what you're doing. Blocking and negating her fears and terrors... "THat's... that...." She takes your wrist  "I don't know how you can do those things. I thought I was a strong telepath... I've had these powers  for 20 years and I can't manage something like that"

"It's not so hard..." you smile. "Just... follow my lead" It's tricky teaching her these things. But you're good enough to play the game and hide your cards at the same time.

Her mind observes as you do it a few times... brushing thoughts against people around you. Leaving them with a sense of peace and stupid nonsensical smiles. Sometimes you wish you could do that to yourself...

And then... she attempts it herself. Slowly at first... until she manages to reach the superficial layers of a woman passing by, causing her to smile briefly.

"What the... I did it!" she is overjoyed.

"Told you it wasn't hard!"

"What? That was the hardest thing I've ever done!"

She’s not wrong... without someone showing you how to do it beforehand, you’d probably fry people’s brains and hurt yourself in the process if you tried. 

You roll your eyes. "I think Jupiter would beg to differ."

"Telepathy is the hard part you smartass."

"Hey, I can't toss motorboats at enemies!"

"Sure can... you just ask me!"

A couple passes looking at you and laughs.

“Oh fuck. More people thinking I’m your cougar mamma... Let’s go already” 

You just chuckle. She jokes about it, but she’s quite self-conscious. Oh well... you're not one to judge her. 

Your phone rings, startling you. Anathema made you buy it some time ago, but you almost never use it.

You fidget with it, trying to turn it on

It's Ortega.

You let it ring a few more times, while your mind decides what to do. Elyise stands patiently.

"Hello there" you say in the end

"Hey Cyrus" his voice sounds a bit hesitant. "I was wondering... can I meet you somewhere?"

You doubt for a moment.

Fuck.

"ah... sorry... If you're busy then maybe..." He starts again.

You take a deep breath.

"No. I'm not busy. It's ok. Let's meet"

You agree to meet in a bar, not far from where you're standing. Just a few blocks.

"Ooohh... you are meeting him tonight?" Elyise is guessing who he is... but it's not that hard to guess. She knows how hard it is to get your number.

"Yes... we are meeting. Not far from here actually"

"Well, what are you waiting for? I'll walk you there!" she grins. "I was wondering when were you two going to make peace."

You sigh. "Yeah... we are friends... it's about time we make out" She just snorts walking ahead as you realize what you just said.

"Make up! Make up i mean! We're not going to make out!" you try to correct but it's no use

"Of course!" she says laughing as you reach your destination. She turns to you, and gives you a strong patt on  both of your shoulders "You go in there tiger... and you make out with that man, you hear me?"

"I didn't..." you start

And she turns dramatically looking at you over her shoulder

"French-style" is the last thing she says as she walks away laughing towards her own ride.

You smile. She knows how to make you laugh.

THere's no loud music inside, and several pool tables. It's decent and has some good food.

He shows up a moment later.

"Hey," you say a bit awkwardly.

"Hey, you" he answers. You stand apart... 

"About the other day..." he starts. He’s also feeling the awkwardness, grabbing his elbow across his body tightly with his right hand.  

"Yeah... that was... bad..." you say looking down

"I mean... I'm so..."

"No... I am." You say it first. Let’s make this painless

"Hey, that was my line!"

"Yeah... but... I'm not happy about that argument...either"

"Well... I'm sorry too. We shouldn't have let you out of the loop, you were part of the mission too. Sometimes Steel gets too muddled up in the rules."

"I know... but still I  shouldn't have asked you to go against him. You're the Marshall"

"So... we forget about it?" He asks extending his hand

"Yes. Forgotten already, Ricardo" you shake hands, and he draws you into a hug.

"Darn. Should have called you sooner. We could have seen the movie together"

"It sucked. And I should have called you first"

"It's in the past. Let's go in!" he says, his bright smile flashing again. You avoid it like the plague. 

You talk. You play pool. You have some drinks. You're being careful not to activate any of his or your triggers, and thus he doesn't make another move on you this time. He's just grateful you're hanging out again. And you are as well.

Now if you can just manage to maintain this chemistry... he'll hook up with someone else soon enough and you'll be in the clear. It's all about knowing how to keep the balance.

A few hours later, you are leaving together. He had a few more drinks than he should, so you agree to drive him home. You can take a bus there.

"Put on your seatbelt, safety first," you say as you adjust the mirrors. "We should invite you to one of that safety on the road campaigns they make us do" he chuckles “You’d look swell in the posters!” "Well, if it pays, I'll do it," you say. "But the mask stays on" "Not sure if they can send you a check if they don't know your true name" "So we're not doing that then" you grin. "I have to tell you... you're the most paranoid, neurotic, unreasonably suspicious person I know..." "Oh, I just know what's best for me" you smile as you take a turn. 

Odd... your mind feels there are several bugs around. Did some insects get inside the car? You feel them flying towards you. You look around but don't see them. 

He bumps your arm lightly "You sir, are a loon. But you're my kind of loon!" "You're a crazy maniac yourself" you chuckle. You are happy. Success. You're plot worked, and you’re back in the friend zone. You just need to remember to never overstep the boundary again. Ricardo’s your best friend, after all you’d be lost without him.

You can't help it... you swat at the air around you.

"Is there a bee in the car?" you ask out of the blue. He looks around, a bit bewildered. If there is, Drunk Ortega won't be able to see it. "I don't think so?" he says in the end.

You stop at a traffic light. This is getting weird. You focus your thoughts, looking for the bee. Bees. Eight bees. All focused on you. And then you realize... they aren't inside your car. You look at the car next to you.

"Ortega.. what the fuck is that?" you look in disbelief.

The driver on the car next to you wears a trenchcoat and a hat... and its eyes glow burning yellow. IT's face isn't human... but robotic.

He turns. "Wha...” he takes a brief look before almost jumping in his seat “START THE ENGINE RIGHT NOW!" Ortega utters you.

"But the traffic light is...."

"Forget about the stupid traffic light! Get us out of here!"

You start the car, accelerating as fast as you can.

And then you hear the shots. The things in the car behind you are shooting.

"Just keep going, this car is bulletproof!" You take a turn, trying to avoid them.

"What are those things?"

"It's HIVE" he says as if that explained it all. "I mean they are HIVE."

"Wait... are those the bees?"

"Yes. HIVE always attacks in numbers! Keep going!"

You ignore the following two traffic lights. Another car joins the one already pursuing you, shooting energy weapons and bullets at Ortega's car.

You keep trying to outrun them...

And you don't notice the car coming from your left and right. They drive forward, ahead of you, trying to force you to slow down.

"They are going to catch us!"

"Not if I can... help it!" Ortega opens his window and you notice a discharge from him. The driver on your left explodes in a rain of sparks, overcharged, and its car goes out of control, crashing into a small flower shop. You take the chance to turn left now that it's not blocking you.

"What the fuck are they? I only sense bees inside them!"

"Rogue robot network, controlled by Bee's brains! It's my Nemesis!"

"What?! How come I’ve never fucking ever heard of it??!"

"It's a secret government project... and it was destroyed! Hood And I defeated Hive back in the day!"

"It seems pretty Healthy to me!"

And then you sense it... bees... so many bee brains.

"Fuck they have us surrounded! they're coming from all sides!"

"Can you evade them?"

"I'll try,” You say with little confidence. Fuck. Ortega is the better drive... if only he hadn’t had so many drinks...

More cars full of robots come into view.

You try to get in between them... but they turn at the last moment causing a crash. The airbags burst in your face, leaving you winded.

Something tears down the door on your side and a robotic arm struggle to pull you off, but the seatbelt gets in the way. You shoot at it with your energy gun, sending it into the ground. Another one inmediately takes it’s place, pulling the gun from your hand. It then unbuckles the belt and pulls you down onto the pavement, face-first.

You stand up with difficulty. They approach with their glowing yellow eyes. All of them wearing the creepy trenchcoats and hats, disguising their metallic bodies. You see Ortega fighting them off, he's good enough to do it even while drunk. And his electrical arcs are good excellent weapons against them. Several are already broken on the floor.

One of them charges.. and you try to block his fist, but the kick to your gut takes you unprepared, sending you down on your back.

You have no idea how to predict a or read a bee's brain.  You try to stand up again, but another one sends a metallic fist to your face that makes you see dotted colors.

Two of them take you by your arms and drag you away, your arms and legs refusing to cooperate.

"Cyrus! I'm coming to you, Cyrus! Hang on!!" you hear Ortega's voice in the distance, as the robots toss you at the back of a ban and start the engine.

Someone runs a hand through your face... what...? You look at them and immediately regret it.

"Oh hello, again you sweet sweet funny man!" The CandyMaster greets you. "We're going to play so many games together. It will be so much fun!!"

What. The. Fuck.

You open your mouth to scream.

His hand covers it before any coherent sound can come out of it.

"HHMMHGGFFRHFFHG!!" You scream for someone to help you. Anyone. This one gives you the fucking creeps.

He widens his gaze as he activates his power. You feel the crystal candy expanding inside your mouth. Sealing it shut. You can’t even spit it out. 

One of the HIVE robots takes hold of your hands and locks them with handcuffs.

"Now now, don't be rude! Eat your candy or there will be a ...punishment!" he chuckles giving you a smile with his shining white teeth that is just the stuff of nightmares.

The overwhelming sweetness in your mouth wants to make you throw up. But you can’t even do that. 

You try to enter his mind... but It’s so warped...  It will take a while to get to know how it works. 

The ban drives off through the dark streets of Los Diablos' suburbs.

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

My fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[jungnoir]

cat caught your tongue;

joshua hong | every witch needs a familiar. unfortunately for joshua, you might just be the most troublesome one yet. witch!au. | 3.8k words | fluff, humor.

a/n: inspired by kiki’s delivery service, this post, and little witch academia. also this nerd @spoopyscapes encouraged me to do it.

“Don’t... don’t you dare.”

Your paw is raised with a very clear threat that anyone who was familiar with your kind would recognize in an instant, yet Joshua, your sweet but very dumb witch, just didn’t quite get it. He’d had you for a little under a year, a gift from his friends Jeonghan and Seungcheol who had chipped in to get him his very first helper after they’d found Joshua in a mundane rut. The witch had assured them countless times that he didn’t need you, that familiars were only ever needed in extreme circumstances (like in his friend Mingyu’s case. without his owl familiar, the boy might have accidentally obliterated himself by now) and Joshua was just fine without one.

Which was true. Joshua was an exceptional witch, top of his class and extremely gifted in the magical arts. His dorm at school was pristine and spotless, not a spellbook out of sight, and he fell asleep by 9:30 every night and woke by 6:30 every morning, just in time for morning lectures. Joshua was by far the most put together student the Priwarths Academy of Witchcraft had ever seen. Yet he was lonely, and he did everything by himself. Surely a familiar would fix that?

If anything, you only added to the plethora of problems that were becoming very prominent in the young witch’s life.

If your cat mouth could, it would be smirking at him, daring him to try you as your paw began to quiver. Joshua had half a mind to whip out his wand and catapult you across the room, if only to get you away from that very priceless magical artifact that he was sure cost more than his whole tuition.  He really should have just taken this potion to his room instead of branching out for once and taking advantage of the abandoned classrooms.

“I will curse you so bad your cat children will be hacking furballs for the next fifty years.” Joshua growls, watching as your paw inched closer and closer to the vase just seconds from slipping off the ledge. One push, and it would be in a thousand pieces on the floor. “No, worse. I’ll turn you into a dog.”

You must have been offended, because without meaning to, your paw falls to your side in shock and hits the vase anyway, and Joshua can just barely get his wand out in time to stop it midair, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he manages to save the thing from shattering. You look between the vase and Joshua’s extended arm, and then up to Joshua’s red face. Oh boy, you were in trouble.

“On Merlin, I swear I didn’t mean to do that.” Your voice floats through Joshua’s mind, your magical bond extending that human part of you to him even in cat form. Your lithe body hops down from the ledge, looking a bit sheepish for once, and Joshua sets the vase down somewhere very far away from you as you shift back into your human self.

Despite being so adorably cute, you sure were a pain in the ass for a familiar.

Your hair is a tragic mess, bits and pieces sticking out this way and that, much like your fur when you were in your cat form. No matter how much Joshua tried to brush it down and make you look proper, you tended to love the mess. You didn’t even want to think about how long it took for him to convince to you wear clothes in your human form. Nonetheless, you did as told, because you could recall a time when the witches you had served gave you nothing. Joshua was nothing like that, and you were grateful.

When Joshua had stood still long enough to collect himself, he sends a glare at you that has you shrinking back into yourself, “Tell me why I find it hard to believe you.”

You pout, “I can tell you why you should.”

The witch quirks his eyebrow at you and plops into a seat in front of his bubbling cauldron with a huff, an assignment for his potions class that he’d been perfecting for the last week and a half. He guessed that things could have been worse, and you should be thankful Joshua was such a competent witch. Otherwise, he’d have to be skipping some extra study time and cleaning out the dragon stalls to make amends for your mistake, “Oh yeah? Humor me.”

You scurry over to him, tugging at the red and grey sweater he’d given you the first day he’d met you. It was his once before, and could show in how big it was when draped over your frame. When not in human form, you’d often ball it up and curl on top of it like a bed, much to Joshua’s chagrin (”I bought you a bed for a reason!”). The cat hair was atrocious to clean up after all, “I finally found out what that snake Myung was hiding! The secret to how he passed Professor Wittle’s exam with a 105.”

Joshua’s ears perk up at the sound of this, and he glances at you, still trying and failing to look disinterested, “...yeah?“

You grin and scoot into the chair beside him, pressing way too close to his side, though you never really had much of an idea about personal space anyway, “He’s dating Wittle’s daughter, Anya. Rumor has it, he met up with her secretly during the Autumn Ball, since he didn’t want anyone to know that he was getting favored. That’s how he got the extra five points and beat you.”

Joshua scowls, but his ego is warmed a little by the fact that he really had been the best performer on the exam after all. At least, by his own wits and no schemes. “I should have known. There’s no way Myung could get higher than a 75 in this reality.”

You giggle, looking a little proud, “I did a good job, didn’t I?”

The witch looks over at you, the light from the windows behind him lighting up your cheeks in a sunny glow and making your grin all the more striking. You look ready for praise, and while you were nothing like the dog familiars (for instance, Taehyung’s dog familiar Jimin, who went around seeking ear scratches whenever he was in sight), you did enjoy a bit of appreciation every now and then.

Smiling a little, Joshua raises his hand and fusses with your hair, pushing it down some on your head despite its need to stay wild, “You did a good job. Thank you, my little feline sleuth.”

You preen under the attention that Joshua gives you, cheeks turning a little rosy. He’d never really smiled at you like that before. You decided you wanted to see that more. “D’ya need help with your potion? I can fetch some stuff if you need it. Or I can stir. Stirring tires you, right? Or maybe I can read so it’s not so quiet in here.”

Joshua chuckles at your excitement, “Calm down, kitty. Where’s this coming from?” “I just wanna help! Since I almost broke that vase and all...”

Joshua admires your need to make amends for something you hadn’t even done on purpose, lips threatening to tug into a smile at your determination. He usually couldn’t get you to help with anything except relaxation; you would be more than happy to curl up into his warmth now that the chilly days had come to Priwarths once again, or to sprawl out over his homework as a sign he needed to take a break and give you a belly rub. Whatever worked, you said.

“You can read to me. You’ve been getting better.” At this, Joshua makes a book appear in front of you and you grin when you see it’s another fairytale, detailed pumpkins and skeletons drawn along the cover.

“This one is Halloween themed! Are we doing something this year for Halloween, Josh? Pleaseeeee?” Your attention is quickly piqued by the new topic, your eyes comically wide as you stare at your witch. You’d heard from Joshua’s friends that he was notorious for staying in on Halloween, doing nothing and letting the exciting holiday pass. You had hoped to change that.

Joshua groans, “No, not really-” “Then let’s go trick-or-treating!” “Trick-or-treating really isn’t that fun in the magical world, you know. It’d be more fun if we just watched Hocus Pocus or something.” “Then let’s do it in the human world.”

The witch blinks in surprise. The human world? You’d never asked to go there before. “W-what?”

You playfully roll your eyes at your witch, “You heard me! Let’s go to the human world and go trick-or-treating. It’ll be fun. All the humans will be dressing up like us, and we’ll be dressing up like them. They won’t be any the wiser. Plus, I’ll even wear something new and maybe use a brush. I promise, it’ll be fun.“

You could not, logically, promise anything about the human world seeing as you had never been, but you looked like you couldn’t be convinced otherwise. In your mind, you seemed to believe that no matter what, it would be fun. Joshua didn’t know much about your past lives and who you had been a familiar to before, only that they weren’t that nice to you. He assumed the most they’d ever let you do on your own was errand runs for them and nothing more. Even imagining you locked up in a house all day doing nothing but help made him feel odd. It just didn’t sound like you.

And your smile, oh your expectant smile that was making him melt was just begging for the chance to experience something so trivial that he’d been through countless times in his youth, both in the human and magical world. It was nothing special to him, but to you, it meant everything.

Your face started to fall the longer it took him to reply, and you began to wonder if maybe you’d stepped over an unspoken line with him. Maybe he really didn’t want to go. Maybe he didn’t like the human world. Maybe he just didn’t like candy all that much (you knew that last one to be a lie, considering his rather large stash under his bed, but you wanted to cover all bases).

“We don’t have to... it was just a suggestion if you had no other plans.” “Let’s do it.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, looking at your witch in a mix of elation and shock; you had never seen that one coming. “Really?”

He chuckles at you and raises a brow, “Don’t you want to go? You’ll have to stay in human form, and you will have to keep to your promise about the clothes and the brush. I think it’ll be fun.”

You grin ear to ear, absolutely beaming, and then you throw your arms around your witch with a small shout of happiness that has him blushing incredibly hard, “Thank you! I won’t let you down, Josh! We’re gonna sucker those mortal parents out of every sweet they’ve got. Maybe we can take some body morphing potions with us so that we can convince them we’re different people and hit up the same houses multiple times-”

Joshua gives you a stern look that tells you your criminal instincts would be unwelcomed from here on out, and you instead spare him a smile, “Or we could just be honest trick-or-treaters and get an equal amount like everyone else.”

Your witch shakes his head, “What am I to do with you?”

It comes as a small surprise when Joshua comes back to his dorm that Tuesday evening to you sat on his bed in human form (the first surprise), hair done as neatly as you could possibly will it to and a cute, simple black ensemble on. In the midst of your hair, Joshua could pick out the matching colored ears of yours that peeked out and twitched when he came closer. “How do I look?”

“Like a... cat.” Joshua says with a small chuckle as you give him a deadpan look, and then look him up and down in slight disappointment.

“Is that what you’re wearing to trick-or-treat?”

Joshua looks down at his ripped jeans and open plaid shirt, something he’d picked out specifically for the day, “You said you wanted to dress up like the humans. This is a typical human outfit, no?”

You open your mouth to protest but realize he’s right, your ears flattening a little, “Well... yeah, but I was hoping you’d dress up like a typical human would on Halloween.“

“This is typical.”

“It’s boring, Josh!”

“If I put on some round frames and my school cloak, will that help?”

You squint at him, trying to decipher if he was using sarcasm on you again, but when he sets his hands on his hips and taps his foot impatiently, you give. “Ok... yes, that’s fine.”

Joshua wastes no time fashioning a makeshift Harry Potter outfit, feeling the embarrassment in small waves but sucking it up at the sight of your pleased expression. You look happy, and this night was for you, so if looking like an imposter put a smile on your face, he would wear the dumb red and yellow scarf and he’d be proud, damn it.

(It really wasn’t that dumb. If he was being honest, he rather loved the Harry Potter series!)

By the time he had transported you both to the human world, the sun was about to set and children were all out of their homes, the sounds of their laughter and the Monster Mash playing in the distance growing louder the closer you two approached the random neighborhood of his choice.

You were the picture of childlike enthusiasm, nearly bouncing on your feet as you tugged Joshua along by the sleeve of his cloak. He had created generic plastic pumpkins for you both to collect candy in with a secret bottomless effect just for you. He wanted you to get as much candy as you wanted, to have as much fun as you wanted. If that meant giving you a hoard of cavities in the foreseeable future, then he’d deal with it when the time came.

Joshua could not recall a time you’d ever been so happy, and for that, Joshua felt a bit for you. The life of a familiar was by no means glamorous. You were sensitive beings with feelings and needs and wants and likes and dislikes like everyone else, yet to most witches, familiars were more of a tool than a helper, a guardian. For a long time, Joshua wondered if maybe the keeping of familiars was inherently terrible in itself, but that was before he’d seen what it meant to have one and care of them.

Like with you. You did cause him trouble, but it was your personality. You were being yourself, and it wasn’t like you never helped him with anything. You were as helpful as you knew how, and that was all he could ask of a familiar who didn’t ask for this life. Plus, you were so damn loyal. He had trouble remembering a time he’d met someone that fiercely dedicated to him that quick (Seungcheol was a good runner up, but still). You were loving and thoughtful and curious. You were as protective of him as he was of you, sometimes even to the point of intimidating others. You meant what you said when you first became his familiar, “I will guard your mind, body, and soul as if it were my own”.

It was hard to fathom the lengths you were willing to go to protect him when you were animatedly talking about how good a mix of chocolate and caramel really was.

“All of these human sweets have a quality magical ones don’t. I can’t put my finger on it...” You muse aloud, staring particularly hard at a Snickers bar.

Joshua snorts, “Magical candy has the ability to turn you into an elephant for a day and a half. Human candy will at best send you to the dentist.”

You point your finger at him in agreement, “Yes! Exactly. I’m not terrified to eat it!”

Your witch smiles and pulls you out of the way of a couple of kids walking opposite you on the sidewalk, your body immediately molding into his. He swears he mistakes the noise of surprise you make for a purr.

The night is coming to an end, quietly, and Joshua finds that your jog had turned into a casual stroll. He thanks the heavens he doesn’t have to sprint to keep up with you, at least. “Are you happy, (Y/N)?” He asks you after a few minutes of silence, still holding you close as the temperature drops with the darkening night sky.

You seem stiff, completely aware of his hand on your arm, and it’s one of the few times Joshua has ever initiated physical touch with you and not the other way around. He had always been a gentleman, keeping his hands to himself. He didn’t consider it gentlemanly, so much as “common courtesy to respect a person’s personal space”, but you believed what you believed.

“...yes, actually. Thank you, Josh. This was the most fun I’ve had in years.” You’re completely honest, loosening up some as you get used to his warm fingers fighting the chill of the October winds.

Joshua nods and looks proud, “Good. That’s what I wanted. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

You’d never heard something like that before in your life. It made your stomach churn, but maybe not in a totally uncomfortable way in all honesty.

Truly, you were feeling happy tonight, but you weren’t... happy. Not completely.

You look up at Josh as he walks you down the street, sharp eyes casually darting from object to object, person to person. He made sure to watch for any suspicious activity, ready to send the both of you back home if need be. You wrap your own arm around his waist and lean into his chest, “Josh? Have you ever... heard of a familiar becoming fully human?”

Joshua’s stride stutters.

He looks to you a little frantically, eyebrows furrowed at your out of the blue question. He searches your face for something, but seems incapable of finding it when he asks, “A few times, why?”

You gnaw on your lip and break eye contact with your witch, feeling your palms begin to sweat, yet you instinctively press closer to him, “I don’t hate you or anything. And I-I don’t think you’re a bad witch to be the familiar of, of course not... but I don’t know... even before I met you, I considered paying to be turned into a human. But you might need me, and I don’t want to be selfish.”

Joshua had never heard such a confession from you in the time that he’d known you. Sure, you had joked about how maybe being a human gave you better access to human food. And yeah, you’d always complained about the amount of furballs you had to cough up in a day and how annoying that was getting. Yet, your witch had never expected you to want to permanently be human. Never.

Your figure moved in time with with his as you both began to approach where you two had portaled from, the edge of the neighborhood that fed off into a small forest. It was darker here, but the moonlight still cast a glow over you both that had you shining in a different way than you did in the sun. In the sun, you burned bright and gold. But under the moonlight, you were washed with a cool blue and silver, a calming contrast to your usually fiery personality. He’d never quite been so entranced before.

And here you were, nervous but trying not to show it, asking him if it was possible for you to become a human. You looked ready to run, in case it all went downhill, because that was what you were used to. You had never been able to ask for much for yourself without something going wrong before.

Yet... instead, Joshua smiles and crouches to your level, “Would you like me to grant you one more Halloween wish?”

You blink your eyes in confusion, “Huh...?”

“The only reason Jeonghan and Seungcheol got you for me was because they thought I was lonely. I’ve never really needed a helper, so much as a companion...” he watches your expression, a mixture of confusion and wonder, “...and you’ve done a magnificent job of that. I believe, if I really need you for that, you can fulfill those requirements. Half cat or not.”

Your gaze turns starry, “Josh!”

“You’ve suffered enough in your past lives. I’ll make you human, and I’ll take care of you like you take care of me. You can even become a worker at Priwarths, to give you a reason to stay at the school. And you can come home with me on the holidays like usual. It’ll take some adjusting, but...” “Oh, Josh!” You don’t let your witch finish rattling off the logistics of it all, only tackling him down to the grass in a hug so strong that the wind is knocked right out of him and he lets out a groan and whisper of “oh Merlin” under his breath.

You snuggle into his chest and giggle into his scarf, “You’re the best! I knew you were different than the others. I just knew it! Imagine all the things we can do together when I’m human.”

You raise your head some and look him in the eye with innocent glee, still giggling behind your toothy smile. He swears he can see magic in your eyes.

And yeah, now he’s imagining you as a human full time, and all the things that could possibly mean for him and you, and he has the incessant need to lay some boundaries before you get too ahead of yourself.

But you’re already eons ahead of yourself, nuzzling into his neck and purring (he’s totally sure it’s purring this time, he can feel your chest rumble against his own), “And don’t you worry, Josh. We’ll still be just as close as we are now. I’m not changing a thing.”

“E-even the cuddling thing?” His ears are particularly red at this point.

You just laugh in response, peeling away some and dropping your eyelid down in a wink, “Will that be a problem?”

No... well, maybe not for you at least.