#but purple is part of a pair with green the same way red&blue are paired

[d1sc0rd1a]

"its a metaphor for capitalism"

just some fairly stream-of-consciousnesses thoughts about the movie as an extended metaphor for living in a capitalistic society because i just saw it for the second time and am no longer normal.

thinking about "spider-man is always alone" being repeated in a massive collective of spider people.thinking of how said collective system "must be kept running at any cost" and how heavily individualism is ingrained in citizens under a capitalistic society

thinking about how miles is already outcast/mistrusted from the larger system due to an intrinsic part of himself he cant control. thinking about how he saved a fellow spider-man from a great suffering that the system not only refused to prevent (despite knowing it was coming) but actively endorsed, and how this simple act of solidarity is seen as a danger that will end the system as a whole

thinking about gwens very explicet trans coding and how she s "like miles in the ways that matter" (an anomaly in society). thinking about how miguel didnt want her as part of his soider society, but she was begrudgengly let in partially out of pity and partially because of the good will of a citizen endorcing ("adopting?") her. thinking about how jessica made it clear from the beginning that gwens acceptance in the spiderverse community is extremely conditional, and the moment gwen messes up jessica will stop endorcing her. thinking about how gwen was forcefully outcast again after she stopped conforming and stood up for miles. thinking about gwen as a scapegoat for miguels anger at losing miles.

thinking about pav starting the story with nothing bad having happened to him. about how he goes through every day without having to try, and how he thinks life is easy. thinking about how up until that point the only thing he felt anxiety over was his crush and the only thing he was angry about was incorrect grammer. thinking about how he assumed the fight was over as soon as the person disappeared, and started celebrating even as everyone else was freaking out about how things were about to get much worse. thinking about how when something bad inevitably did happen to him and when his world was falling apart the large system he was a part of turned a blind eye, but individuals who had already gone through the same hardships reached out to help him and prevent things from getting worse. thinking about the look on pav's face when he nods to miles after he police captain is saved.

thinking about hobie brown, spider-punk, who is the only spider-man that is explicitly for miles and against miguel from the very beginning. thinking about how he spent the movie proving support to miles and gwen while refusing to engage with the system he hated. thinking about how he saw the signs of the group turning on his friends, so he taught miles how to escape, built gwen a way to reach her support system, and then quit when he was ordered to go against his values. thinking about how miguel had begrudgingly accepted hobies place in the spiderverse, but was clearly unhappy hobie was there and was tired of his presence to the point of refusing to engage. thinking about how hobie used this to his advantage. thinking about how hobie built his own versioin of the watch, showing that the system doesnt need to be relied on to access support. him asking miles why he didnt build his own watch and was relying on miguels. thinking about how hobie let gwen crash in his universe, leave her clothes/toothbrush there, and let her borrow his shoes. thinking about how he was good with mayday.

thinking about peter b parker. how the first movie showed us he had done some amazing things in his youth, but had grown more complacent as he aged and settled. thinking about how he connected with the next generation of (activists) spider-people while in a slump, and was able to pass on some life skills and experience. seeing him him in this movie, how he was inspired by the youth's struggle, but despite his positive feelings had effectively turned his back on the movement because he was in a better position in life and now had too much to lose. thinking about how he had a baby he was trying to raise to be just like miles, but that baby was preventing him from actually helping miles himself, who was standing right in front of him needing support. thinking about how his condolences of "thats the way its always been, no use in fighting it" did nothing to improve the situation and his cheers of "i taught him that! im a great mentor!" did nothing to help miles in the current struggle. thinking about how peter just didnt have room in his life to be a part of this movie because his entire world had become fatherhood.

thinking about jessica also being a(n expecting) mother. thinking about how she acted as miguels right hand and main backup, helping him hold up the system throughout the whole movie. thinking about how she made an exception or gwen because she saw a piece of herself in the younger "spider-woman" and pitiied the struggle she saw in front of her. thinking about the older generation simultaneously supporting the youth as they struggle, whle also enforcing the aspects of society that cause struggle in the first place. blinded by their own painful experiences, they treat symptoms and not causes

thinking about miguel being a filthy rich business man with a futuristic aesthetic. thinking about him being a literal vampire. thinking about his desire to return to his old family (values). thinking about how much of a hypocrite he was to miles, saying things like youre not supposed to be spider-man" or "youre an anomaly" when tthese things apply just as heavily to him. thinking about how he said hes the only one keeping the system together when he's shown throughout the entire movie to be one of the most out of control emotionally. often times throwing things, attacking others, making impulsive decisions to outcast others, and pressuring everyone to take his side. thinking about how from the vulture fight all the way to banishing gwen various people flat out tell him he doesnt look like the good guy in whatever situation, and he always insists he is.

thinking about the spot, who after being caught in the crossfire of a largescale tragedy and losing his previous life, finds himself with no job or support system, and turns to a life of crime. thinking about how even as he was actively harming others he kept up his victim mentality. thinking about how he refused to blame those who were actually responsible for the tragedy or simply accepting that sometimes awful things happen to you is a simple bit of bad luck, he instead chose one person (or group of people) as a scapegoat, and chose to interoperate the largescale tragedy as something very personal, and that his appropriate response would be causing as much suffering in the lives of those who have "wronged" him as possible. thinking about how he started off as something with intimidating words but unthreatening, vaguely goofy vibes. but since he wasnt taken seriously or dealt with early on he was able to pick up steam and soon became something so overwhelmingly powerful he is a threat to the entire system all by himself. thinking about the rise in hate after 9/11. about the school shootings and moral panics of today. about various presidents and hate groups.

[dark-moonlust]

Caught Between the Fae

This is a Patreon commission I finished yesterday. The commissioner chose to remain anonymous. I hope you enjoy this small story! It was so enjoyable to write and it's super steamy, too! I love every part of it 🖤

Pairing: 2 fae males (Nestor, Quin) x f!human (Layla)

Summary: Layla is a photographer in her mid-30s. During her exhibition event, two fae males, Nestor and Quinn, are drawn to one of her paintings and her beauty. They recognize her as their mate and quarrel over who will get Layla and her artwork. Finally, they decide to share her as she belongs to them both. They claim her as their mate and go into a mating rage, driving deep inside her and marking her with their cum.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!, fingering, oral(female+male receiving), kinky talk, a little bondage, big 🍆, fae magic to fit, p in v sex, anal, double penetratiοn, lots of 💦.

Tonight was her big night. 

Layla took yet another deep breath and strolled through the art gallery. Her heart thundered with excitement and a little fear. That night, her photography was the star of the show. All her pieces were there for all to see and judge. She truly hoped the people would admire and grasp the feelings and meanings behind each photo. Her work was her pride and joy.

As she walked the sleek gallery, the room was a whirl of positive reviews and the clinking of champagne glasses. The people liked her work! Feeling her anxiety lessen, she smiled, soaking in the energy as she mingled with the guests. She let herself enjoy the vibes, her soft curvy frame moving gracefully through the crowd, her fiery red hair catching the light, making her green eyes gleam with pride. 

Taking a short break, she stood near the center of the room and tried to calm her raging heart. The gallery was a big hit and a dream come true! She still couldn’t believe it. She wanted to jump and laugh out of joy. As she scanned the faces of the audience, her gaze stopped on two striking men in front of her favorite piece: a photo of a moonlit beach at night. They were boldly gazing at her piece and then her way. 

A jolt traveled through her. Their gazes practically saw through her. 

Tall and towering, they were both, with pointy ears and supernatural auras exuding such intense power that caused her whole body to come alive and warm up as if licked by fire.

They were fae... what otherwordly beauty.

The one on the left had close-cropped blonde hair, deep purple eyes, and although he wore a sleek black suit, she could see his neck and hands, which were filled with tattoos that surely filled the rest of his body. The other male beside him was all dark and sensual mischief. He had long, curly, dark hair and ice-blue eyes that sparkled with a devil-may-care attitude.

They were attracting the eyes of everyone in the room; their presence electrifying.

From across the room, Nestor, the King of the Court of Nightmares, stood in front of Layla’s photo, his deep purple eyes drawn to every detail of the mounted piece. The gallery lights cast the perfect light, illuminating the moonlight beach. His fingers tightened around his glass as he swirled the dark liquid inside. Beside him, Quinn admired the same photo, his ice-blue eyes attracted to the art and the artist herself. He was the Emperor of the Court of Chaos. 

“Stunning,” Nestor murmured in a low mumble, scanning the room, his gaze finding Layla and staying on her. “They shall be mine. Both the piece and the artist.”

Quinn chuckled, his eyes equally intent on the female. “You wish. You don’t have what it takes to appreciate them both.”

“And you do?” Nestor’s voice was higher than usual, turning heads. “Thinking too high of yourself, aren’t you?”

“This art piece belongs in my court, and little fireheart in my bed.”

“Fireheart…” Nestor whispered, his eyes tracing the fire-colored hair of his mate, the soft and curvy frame he hungered to have exposed beneath him. “I’ll never let you have them. She’s my fated one and the Queen of the Court of Nightmares.”

Quinn’s laugh was light and mocking. “I’ll bid whatever the hell you want. She’s my mate, the Empress of Chaos Court. She will be mine.”

“You? I don’t think so. I want her and that piece, and I’ll have them,” Nestor stated, his voice hard with authority. “You’d better wet your dick elsewhere.”

Quinn’s lips curled at his words. “I’ll wet my dick inside her, in every warm little place inside her.” The Emperor of Chaos stared at his mate, their gazes meeting and holding. She was gorgeous. In every way. Her red hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with passion. He wanted her. He’d never back down. 

“She is mine.” Nestor’s eyes flicked to the other fae. “The moment I saw her, I knew she was my fated one.”

“And you think I didn’t feel the same?” Quinn spat back, with a hint of annoyance. Long moments passed before he added, “Perhaps there’s a reason we both recognize her so strongly.”

Nestor narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you implying?”

“Fate doesn’t make mistakes,” Quinn answered. “She belongs to both of us.”

“This makes sense…” Nestor trailed off, clearly considering the proposal. 

Quinn chuckled warmly. “Finally, we agree on something. So, what do we do about it?”

“We claim her. Every part of her.”

It was that moment when Layla decided to approach them. She closed in on them, and they immediately framed her luscious body with their possessive, towering bodies on both sides. Layla felt hot all over, her frame shivering from the intensity of their aura and their mere height. The dynamic between the two fae made her belly clench with arousal and for a few seconds she felt such an intense magnetic pull towards them that she could barely contain it.

“Gentlemen… I am Layla, the artist behind these photographs. I’m honored by your interest, and I couldn’t help but notice your tension… is there a problem?”

“Good evening, Layla,” Nestor greeted with a sultry drawl. “I am Nestor, King of the Court of Nightmares. Your work is extraordinary, I must have it.”

Quinn grinned and stepped closer to her, his ice-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “I am Quinn, Emperor of the Court of Chaos. Our problem is that we both desire this piece of art, though not as much as we desire you.”

Nestor shifted closer to her right side, his scent enveloping her. “You should visit my court, Layla, and be the crown jewel of my kingdom. Choose me, fireheart.”

“Fireheart?” Layla muttered, a little taken by the nickname and the intensity in his eyes. 

Quinn hummed and let his towering form nearly envelop her left side. “We feel a connection to you, little one. A bond that cannot be ignored.”

Layla didn’t know whether to laugh or blush at their bold statements. The gallery suddenly buzzed with whispers and speculations as all eyes turned toward the three of them. Both fae males had surrounded her, and her cheeks felt hot, as did the rest of her body. Her pussy was also wet, aching with a need she couldn’t barely ignore. They weren’t just interested in her art—they wanted her. 

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

How could she refuse the King of Nightmares and Emperor of Chos without offending them?

“Gentlemen,” she finally said, her voice wavering, “I’m afraid the artist—meaning myself—is not available for such… arrangement. However, the art piece is. I am sure we can find a way to resolve this without—”

“Without what?” Nestor’s eyes darkened. “Without accepting the connection you are feeling?"

Layla opened her mouth to reply, but Quinn cut her off. “Don’t deny it, fireheart. You feel it too. The mating bond, the desire.”

Layla bit her lip and unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Liquid warmth pooled in her core. “I… I don’t think this is appropriate.”

“Yet your pussy is wet and aching for us,” Quinn whispered against her ear, his breath warm. “And it’s not going away unless we take care of you.”

“Accept us, little mate,” Nestor said, sending shivers down her spine. “We can feel your need. You want us. Both.“

“I—I…” Layla stuttered wordlessly, her eyes flicking between the two fae. She felt such longing and undeniable attraction for them. But how could she just give in?

“You are ours, fireheart. Ours to claim in ways neither of us could do alone,” Quinn nodded, his ice-blue eyes intense.

“B-b-both of you…” Layla muttered, her body tightening pleasurably at the mere thought of those two fae belonging to her. 

“Hmm,” both men growled, their eyes caressing her face and red hair. 

Layla nodded slowly, listening to her heart which was screaming for them. Immediately, Fae magic surrounded her, stealing her breath away. The gallery blurred and melted away, replaced by a lavish bedroom filled with rich fabrics and flickering candles. Nestor and Quinn embraced her from both sides, their hands exploring her heated body. 

Nestor scented her neck, his fingers tangling in her loose hair as if he couldn’t have enough of her. Quinn kissed her shoulders over the straps of her dress, each lingering touch leaving trails of delightful warmth and heat. When their gazes locked on hers, she felt hypnotized by the mating bond between them. It was real; they belonged to her, and she ached with need, desperate to be touched by them. 

“Yes, fireheart,” Quinn rasped, sliding down the straps of her dress. “You are our mate, and you will be filled by us both.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nestor said, unzipping the back of her dress, his fingers warm against her skin. “Do you agree, sweetheart? Do you want this?”

“Hmmm… I want you,” Layla breathed, adrenaline pumping in her heart. 

Quinn’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “Good girl,” he murmured, his icy eyes bearing into her emerald ones. They were enchanting, hypnotizing. “Now, let us show you what it means to be ours.”

Layla didn’t realize how quickly they scooped her up and propped her on the plush bed. They divested her of her clothing skillfully. Quinn peeled away her dress while Nestor unclasped her bra, moaning low as her breasts spilled free. He cupped them in his big palms and pushed them up to his hot mouth, suckling each pouting nipple. Quinn knelt at her half-closed thighs and gently removed her panties and shoes. Seeing how she hesitated once she was fully exposed to them, Quinn’s long fingers trailed down her belly, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin between her thighs.

“Open for us, little one,” Quinn said, his voice a seductive promise. “We’re going to fuck you deep, make you feel so good.”

Layla shyly opened her legs and suddenly both men were between them, each one securing a leg over their muscular thighs, their hands making sure she was fully open to their eyes. Using their magic, they removed their clothes, leaving her to gape at the two fae males, so big and powerful—in every way. 

Nestor had a sculpted body covered in tattoos. His eyes were warm and inviting, his stomach taut, his thighs firm and in between... his cock stood proud, looking utterly inhumane. It was thick and very long, pulsing, its length surrounded by protruding veins. Quinn was no less captivating. He was just as tall, his stance emphasizing the force of his thighs and the raw power of his well-muscled body. His eyes swirled with blue ice as he pumped his rigid cock. It was deliciously curved and textured with ridges, a little thicker than Nestor’s but not as long. 

Having both of them… Layla felt the dark desire, the intensity overflowing. The need. The craving. She wanted them. Wanted them more than anything in her life. 

“Fuuuuck, our mate’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” Nestor growled. She looked so pretty and tiny in contrast to their raging bodies. Flushed face, nipples out, pussy exposed. He wanted to debauch her. 

“Show us your pretty cunt, fireheart,” Quinn demanded softly. “Open those pretty lips nicely for your mates.”

Dazed by desire, Layla reached down and did as told. She opened her outer folds with two fingers, showing off her slit and the bud of her clit. Both men growled ferociously and stared for a few seconds. 

“That’s it,” Nestor growled, bending to lick a thick stripe up her pussy. “So wet already for your mates.”

Layla gasped, all sane thoughts fleeing. 

Quinn also leaned down to taste her pussy, kissing her throbbing clit. She saw stars. 

“She is ready for her mates,” Quinn said with a smirk. “You’re going to take every inch of us, aren’t you, fireheart?”

Layla whimpered, her voice and body trembling. “Yes… Please…”

The two males smiled. 

Nestor toyed with her pussy lips and Quinn rubbed her needy clit. Layla whimpered and struggled to arch off the bed. She squirmed restlessly, but their hold on her thighs was too secure, allowing no movement as their fingers probed and rubbed her pussy to their liking. She melted under their touch, her heart pulsing with the intensity of their bond.

“Such a sweet wet cunt," Quinn marveled, gathering her slick and rolling it between two fingers.

“Love your nipples, sweetheart,” Nestor drawled, moving to suckle one tit then the other, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds. 

“Pl… ease,” she sighed, her body feverish with need. “Need you. Need you so much it hurts!”

"Hurts?“ Quinn said in a mischievous tone as he rubbed her clit round and round while thrusting a thick finger inside her. Layla cried out and Nestor claimed her lips, swallowing her moans. 

“Hurts so good, hm, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled as their lips brushed, their tongues mating. 

“Yesss, please, more please… hmnnn...”

No sooner had she said that than Quinn was tasting her mouth, kissing her possessively and deeply. His tongue licked into her mouth then his tongue danced with hers. 

“What do you need, fireheart?”

Oh, how she adored the way they called her nicknames. She wanted to be theirs forever and get lost in their warmth and affection. 

“Want you so much. I’m so empty…”

“Our mate needs to be filled,” Nestor said to the other fae. “But first she will cum for us.”

Quinn agreed in a low chuckle and finger-fucked her while Nestor pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing over and over. Driving her higher and higher until she exploded, bliss and pleasure overtaking her until she couldn’t think or talk. Layla quivered and while she rode her orgasm, Nestor suckled her lower lip. Quinn moved to her breasts, his mouth nursing her aching nipples. Captive in their hold, she arched into their touch, drawn-out moans escaping her.

She was still dizzy from her orgasm when they shifted. Nestor sneaked between her thighs, slapping his heavy cock against her glistening pussy. The sound was wet and squelching, her pussy fluttering with the need to be filled. Quinn kneeled next to her head, his cock pulsing in the air, the tip leaking precum. Layla licked her lips, hungry to taste him. 

“Open,” Quinn commanded softly, “wet my dick, mate.”

Layla obeyed, her lips parting to take him in. Smiling mischievously, Quinn thrust his hips gently, his leaking cock stretching her mouth wide and filling it up. At the same time, Nestor entered her pussy, his girth spreading her cunt and filling her up inch by delectable inch. 

“Mhppphhh!” Layla gasped and gurgled around the cock in her mouth, her pussy filled to the limit by Nestor. Quinn gripped her fiery hair, guiding her head to keep sucking him. She was so full… Quinn’s shaft kissed her throat while Nestor’s cock kissed her cervix. 

“That’s it… fuck, you’re perfect,” Nestor groaned, watching her pussy suck him in. 

“Is it good, fireheart? Being fucked from both ends?” Quinn pulled his cock out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock coated in her saliva. 

“Hmnn! Want more!”

With a proud moan, Quinn shoved his cock back into her hot mouth, going deeper and fucking down her throat. Nestor watched the lewd sight with pride. Their pretty mate struggled a little, but she took Quinn’s cock like the queen she was, hollowing her cheeks and clenching her pretty throat. She stroked his balls, cradling them in her small hands, her eyes rolling back with each thrust from both of them. 

Groaning, Nestor pounded deep into her cunt, making her pretty tits bounce with each sharp thrust. He kneaded her mounds, his thumbs pinching her nipples, causing her to gag and whimper around a mouthful of cock, her breathing heavy. Gods, she was so pretty like this, trapped between them, their cocks spearing her back and forth. 

A few calculated thrusts, and she came explosively, her body shuddering. Once she rode the waves of pleasure, the fae changed positions again, with Nestor fucking her mouth and Quinn taking her pussy. The dual sensations were overwhelming, liquid pleasure coursing through her veins as they filled her relentlessly. The room echoed with the rhythmic slaps of skin against skin and her muffled moans as she took fae cock. 

“Such a good mate for us,” Quinn said with pride. Her lips were swollen, her pussy drenched with her release. “Now it’s time to take our seed, hm?”

“Hmp, yes… want your cum,” Layla said in a seductive purr. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled. “Ready to take us both in your soaked cunt and tight little ass?“

“Hmm, gonna take you both,” Layla nodded, seeing the pride and desire on their handsome faces. “Need to feel you inside me.”

In a flurry of motion, they repositioned themselves so that Layla was straddling Nestor, her raw breasts rubbing against his muscled chest. Quinn kneeled behind her, his strong hands spreading her asscheeks, his thumbs teasing around the tight, puckered hole. Such a cute little hole. Layla whimpered when Nestor gripped her hips and guided her down onto his throbbing dick while Quinn thrust a magically lubed finger into her ass. 

Layla groaned, desperation and desire in her green eyes. 

Quinn kissed her spine. “Relax your pretty asshole and take my fingers, fireheart.”

Layla clutched Nestor’s shoulders and tried to relax while Quinn squeezed a second oiled finger into her ass, the thick intrusions making her gasp and shut her eyes tightly. The combination of Nestor filling her pussy and Quinn’s fingers in her ass was strange. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at their mercy. 

“So damn tight," Nestor muttered against her moaning lips, his shaft buried in the heat of her cunt. 

Quinn added a third finger in her ass, pumped, and curled them inside her before replacing them with the head of his cock. The broad head spread her tight hole, forcing its way inside. Layla trembled at the dual invasion— they were so deep, stretching her wide around their inhuman girths. She glanced down at where they were joined, and with shock, she realized just how much more they had to go. Only a third of their shafts were inside her, and that both thrilled and scared her. 

Nestor’s voice broke through her haze. “You can do this, sweetheart.”

“You’re so big…” Layla whined. She was human, could she really take them both? 

“Deep breaths, mate,” Quinn advised gently. “Take a little more of us, hmm?” 

“Feels strange…” Layla looked at them for guidance, her cheeks flushed, her eyes worried. She could feel their dicks rubbing inside her, and she took deep breaths that were mixed with cries of pain and pleasure. 

“Let’s stroke your little clit,” Nestor murmured, his thumb stroking her bud, sending pulses of warmth all over her body. “Yesss, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm! Moree!”

“Such a good little mate,” Nestor cooed and proved his point by pulling out of her wet cunt then slamming more inches inside.

“Our mate needed a cock up her cunt and ass so badly,” Quinn growled as he worked deeper into her ass. 

“You will take us, mate. Again and again until you reek of our cum. Our magic protects you. Relax your holes,” Quinn ordered in her ear. 

Blindsided by the fullness of their penetration, Layla said yes in a series of raspy moans. Their fae magic infused her fully, empowering her and building her arousal. Before long, she’d taken the full lengths of their cocks. The fullness, the heat, the stretch— she was overwhelmed but in no pain. She curled between their powerful bodies, and when they started fucking her in earnest, she cried out, her nails digging into their flesh. 

“Look at you,” Nestor growled, his purple eyes dark with lust. “So beautiful riding our dicks.”

“You’re perfect like this, fireheart,” Quinn whispered, his hands fondling her asscheeks. “So tight, so hot.”

Hands grabbed and fondled her as they pounded her, their cocks owning her depths. When Nestor’s cock left her pussy, Quinn plunged into her ass. Layla tried to get more friction only to have their strong hands restrain her. Nestor grasped her tits while Quinn secured her wrists with magical silken ropes, carefully tying her arms behind her back. The silk felt like a caress, soft and slightly loose.

She didn’t complain; she only trembled between them, her watery eyes begging them to claim her. 

“If this is too much for you, fireheart, say “red” and we will stop. I promise you. Understood?”

“Yesss,” Layla nodded fervently. “Now… just fuck me.”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Nestor said, his hands gripping her thighs. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Layla was too far gone to think straight. “C-can’t! Want more!” 

“It’s the mating bond. She is human, and it’s affecting her. Our magic is also making everything stronger,” Nestor explained to the other fae. 

“Such a needy little mate,” Quinn rasped and pressed a harsh kiss to her mouth. “Bound and begging for us.”

Nestor grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You think you can handle us, huh? Think you can keep up with us?”

“Hmn… I can handle it,” Layla panted as they impaled her on their stiff cocks. 

Nestor chuckled from under her, his fingers pinching her nipples. “Is that so? Well, let’s see how long you can keep that attitude.” 

The two males exchanged glances before they resumed pounding into her. Nestor lifted her a few inches, then lowered her back down onto his cock. Quinn thrust his hips, fucking her ass in full thrusts that reached deep into her guts. They were both too thick, too hard, and too long, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It went on and on; their stamina seemed endless, their cocks so impossibly hard and swollen with the need to cum. The scent of desire hung heavily in the air and she came again with uncontrollable, shuddering contractions, her holes clenching hard around their massive girths. The males followed right after her, their muscled bodies shuddering, roars ringing out as she felt something burst inside her. Massive wings sprouted from their backs as their seed filled her up, loads and loads of it, forcing little aftershocks of ecstasy. 

But they were far from done. 

They switched places, Nestor claiming her now stretched asshole while Quinn filled up her pussy. Their wings curled around her as they slammed inside her, and Layla lost herself in the mating bond, quaking between them, her arms securely bound, her holes fluttering around their shafts. She could only whimper and utter their names, begging them to stop, then begging them to never stop and make her cum.

“Remember your safe word, mate,” Quinn reminded her roughly. “If it’s too much say "red" and we will stop.”

“Would you like us to stop fucking your naughty holes?” Nestor’s fingers curled around her nape, his hips snapping repeatedly into hers. 

“Nnn—nooo!” Layla whined, her body tense as she balanced on the edge of pleasure. 

Quinn growled his approval. “That’s good, fireheart, because we’re not going to.”

The bed creaked, obscene moans echoing with every move they made. Her fae mates fucked her powerfully, thrusting to the hilt again and again, deep and tirelessly. Quinn devoured her lips with his kisses, his hands cupping her tits and pinching her sore nipples. Nestor growled from behind her, his broad chest pressing against her back as he claimed her ass and flicked her clit with his thumb. 

They were primal and fully affected by the need to claim her, and she loved it—she loved them and how they fucked her, it was unlike anything she had imagined.

Layla’s moans rang out when she came again, sobs of pleasure escaping her kiss-swollen mouth. She trembled as a pleasure bomb went off in her center. It was too much, but it was divine, every nerve was alight. They joined her soon after, pulsing up inside her and releasing spurt after spurt of their cum. She was already filled with them, but the second load overflowed from her, dribbling down her thighs. 

Layla didn’t know for how long it went on. 

They untied the silk ropes and took her again and again, lifting her off the bed, sandwiching her between their aroused bodies and feeding her their cocks in every position imaginable. Their wings flapped powerfully, and when Layla touched them, her mates went into a mating rage, driving deep inside her, claiming her, owning her. 

As the sun began to rise, their frenzied mating finally came to an end. 

They collapsed on the bed, the covers tattered and smeared with signs of their primitive coupling. Layla’s mates enveloped her, spooning her from front to back, their bodies entwined with hers, their cocks still hard inside her due to the suction of her cunt and ass. She was sated and exhausted, feeling a sense of belonging she had never known before. 

They took turns kissing her, softly, lovingly, whispering sweet nothings while gazing at her with an impossibly soft, oh-so-soft expression on their faces. Their seed had marked her as theirs; the mate of the Nightmare and Chaos Courts.

“Who do you belong to, little mate?” Nestor asked, kissing the side of her neck.

“You,” Layla breathed. “Both of you.”

Nestor growled and gazed at her possessively. She belonged wholly to them. And they to her. She was filled to the brim with their seed, her holes stretched taut around their shafts. It was the ultimate claiming. "So beautiful. You did so well, fireheart.”

“Stunning.” Quinn brushed a few sweaty hair strands from her face and kissed her fluttering eyelashes. “You were so good for us, mate. Our beautiful Queen and Empress.”

“Yes,” Nestor agreed proudly. “We shall unite our courts and give our mate everything.”

“Hmmm,” Quinn hummed against her chest, his voice a sultry whisper against her lips. “Do you like being filled by your King and Emperor, fireheart?” 

“Yes,” Layla answered, her heart brimming with affection for them. “I love it. I love you both.”

Nestor hummed from behind her, kissing her softly. “We love you more. You’re ours, sweetheart. Forever.”

That night, they’d claimed more than a masterpiece. 

They’d claimed their soulmate. 

[scramblescrew]

Request by: 🌱(seed) Anon!

Self-Aware Yandere Ancients and Beasts with male Y/N

Background:

It was a normal Thursday evening and Y/N was out for a walk when they got a notification on their phone. They check it and there was a new update to Cookie Run Kingdom that came out, The Silver kingdom/Beast-Yeast update. The boy was very excited to download the update and get to see all of the new characters, lands, and other features to play with. Y/N hadn’t been this excited since “The Heroes of Dark Cacao” update! Y/N had to admit, The Ancients as well as The Cookies of Darkness were awesome! Y/N thought as he happily jogged home and booted up the game!

After downloading, Y/N saw the beautiful new menu screen, with soft greens and silvers, the new faerie guardians and Pure Vanilla Cookie along the bottoms corners of the screen. But finally, Y/N noticed her, White Lily Cookie! It seemed like forever that he wished that WLC would be added to the game as more than quick appearances and today was the day she probably would!

Ancient Cookies:

Y/N loaded into his kingdom and scrolled around, getting Gems and other things before he finally got White lily Cookie- HE HAD ALL OF THE ANCIENTS! it took awhile but Y/N did it. though... after WLC appeared in his kingdom, he noticed: All of the Ancients suddenly stop moving and look up at him, a normal animation, if it wasn’t for them refusing to move, look away, or the fact that they all started smiling sadistically. Y/N tried to pick them all up and move them so they’d move on but the Ancients weren’t able to be picked up like the rest? Suddenly, Y/N's phone got really cold, like- FRIGID cold! when Y/N tried to put his phone down out of slight fear and concern, five pairs of arms pulled Y/N into the screen, Y/N passing through it and landing on soft ground. Y/N rubbed his head as he tried to get up, his eyes seeing the Lily Garden he had made for PVC and WLC, as well as 5 towering beings surrounding him- The Five Ancient Cookies.... "Our precious baker..." The bond yet motherly voice of HollyBerry Cookie spoke before pulling Y/N up into a strong, safe embrace as the other four started either hugging or carressing your hair and face. "We finally have you here at last, love!" the other spoke, seeming trying to be in unison as Y/N, Now...Y/N Cookie, relaxed into the loving embrace and closed his eye, "You're safe here, Y/N Cookie. and if anyone tries to take you from us..." GCC started, "We'll do whatever it takes to get you back, even if it means crumbling the whelps that get in our way..." Dark Cacao Cookie finished

The Five Beasts:

Y/N logged into his kingdom and started playing through Beast-Yeast, stopping at some points to watch videos on the story (You spoil-sport). After weeks of on-and-off playing, you got to the part where you meet Shadow Milk Cookie and the rest of the Beasts. Though it was strange, while the beasts appeared on screen when talking, their eyes were on you…..this wasn’t normal, so you turned off the game and restarted the level-…same thing. Then- the screen went black and a familiar blue diamond shaped eye, an upside down heart, an ivory diamond, red diamond, and what seemed to be a purple arrowhead appeared on screen. You were freaked out a bit as you tried to shut off the game to no avail.

Out of nowhere, blue text appeared on screen below the blue eye,

“We’ve heard so much about you, Our little baker, and we agree that you need to be with us forever!~”

“Don’t even try to escape, it’ll be futile in the end…”

It was undeniably freaky that this was happening. ‘Little baker? Excuse me, OUR?’ Thoughts spun around your head before a black and blue shepherds hook (cane used to pull people off stage in theatre) hooked around your neck and pulled you into and through the screen.

“Don’t worry, love, we’ll take such good care of you~ you won’t have to worry about ANYONE taking you away from us~”

[callmelola111]

color me purple ♡ part one

 ✄ - - - -   part 1 , part 2 , part 3   - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡

synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics. 

      | 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.3k

      | ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some fluff + some angst (for now), marijuana use, pet names (doll, princess, hun), light sexual themes, swearing, mentions of blood (reader gets bloody nose), mentions of age (reader and ellie are both said to be 20 but feel free to change it in ur head lol)

a/n: feeling so summer lately i just had to write this. living vicariously through reader cause like why tf am i not having a summer camp gay awakening. this series is just 3 parts but it is sweet as pie so pls enjoy!!! i love you all dearly ♡~ lola

The blinding sun beamed down on your bare skin. Normally the sweltering heat would bother you more, but the excitement of your first day back at camp was more than enough to distract you from the outlandish temperatures. You barreled down the grassy hill, duffle bag in hand, revealing the large wooden arch that spelled out the words CAMP STILLWATER.

The grounds were bustling with counselors and caretakers preparing for the arrival of campers later that evening. Everyone was dressed in color coded garments that signaled what cabin group they belonged to. You were dressed in red, head of cabin 12. Your sheer, white ringer tee read “Staff” and was hemmed with strips of crimson. To match, a pair of red booty shorts with white stretching down the sides. They were just long enough to cover your plush cheeks until naturally riding up as you walked to reveal the crease where ass meets thigh. To top it off, knee high socks striped with the same exact red. You were fucking adorable.

Nature crunched under your sneakers as you practically skipped down the trail headlining it to your cabin. As you reached the steps a very familiar voice called out your name.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. Cabin neighbors, once again. Did ya miss me doll?”

“Ellie fucking Williams, don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been praying all week that I wouldn’t get stuck with your dumbass again. But, here we are.” You rolled your eyes in a dramatic fashion putting an emphasis on your obvious sarcasm. This would be your 3rd summer bunking next door to your biggest rival Ellie Williams.

Although you and Ellie weren’t truly enemies, she did get on your nerves, and you got on hers. This fed into a mutual sarcastic bit that you guys have continued to carry out for years. You’d think by 20 years old the two of you would’ve grown out of these childish antics, but it was secretly one of your favorite parts of the summer. 

Ellie gave a half-assed chuckle, “you can never escape me.”

“Oh yes I can!” You whipped your head around, excusing yourself from the conversation and climbed up the weathered steps of your cabin. Ellie gawked as she watched you depart, your thighs giggling with each step. Her piercing green eyes always found their way to your body, but only when she thought you wouldn’t notice.

You entered the barren room and didn't even take the time to unpack before you started adorning the walls with themed decor and tying red ribbons in your hair. Cabin 12 always thrived with spirit when you were there. You took your role as camp counselor seriously and took the competitiveness even more seriously.

Camp Stillwater ran on a point system, and at the end of the summer the cabin with the most wins a trophy. The girls from your cabin were always finishing first in the tournament games, but when they didn’t, it was Ellie’s stupid blue campers who were swooping in to steal the victory. It drove you crazy. Last summer you came second to her and you were determined to never let it happen again. You began speaking to the empty room as if trying to somehow manifest these dreams into reality.

“This year cabin 12 will finish the summer with the most points.”

“Talking to yourself again?” You jumped at the sound of Ellie, not noticing that she had been lurking in the doorway. She was only there for a moment, but didn’t feel like announcing herself, too busy enjoying you running around like an excited puppy, spouting off about victory. Ellie had always admired your high spirits and go-getter attitude. A ray of light emitted from you constantly and she loved to bask in its glory. But, of course, she’d never let it be known.

“God Ellie you can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry princess but the warden wants everyone at the mess hall like now. Come on slacker!” You noticed the change of clothes on Ellie, she was now adorned in a T-shirt just like yours but with blue details rather than red. Her auburn hair was pulled into a messy half-up, half-down, she always wore it like that when it started getting hot.

“Shut up, I'm not a slacker!! I’m just busy going above and beyond for my campers.” you argued, a pout forming on your lips. Ellie always knew how to press your buttons.

“You really wanna win this year huh?” She moved into your space, tilting her head with a cocky smirk. 

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“And you really think I’m gonna let that happen?” she teased.

“You’re so annoying Ellie. You can do whatever you want, but I will be winning” You jutted your head forward dramatically in an attempt at intimidation. Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Right… let’s just get going before we’re late and they don’t let you counsel at all” Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled, urging you to follow. Feeling her warm, calloused hand in yours, you almost didn’t want to let go. But, you did.

The mess hall was lined with strings of wooden picnic tables, all connecting to create a sense of community when it was filled with campers. Flags cascaded the walls, each a different color with a number, representing the teams. A large case expanded across the back wall, filled with trophies from years before. The corners of your mouth upturned with anticipation of the summer to come. Your thoughts were soon interrupted by an amplified voice booming from a megaphone. Holding said megaphone was the warden, Mrs. Campbell.

“Alright ladies! Tonight is the night! You all know what to do so go ahead and file out to find your campers!!” You and Ellie exited out the back of the building, heading to the camp entrance. A swarm of girls’ chatting and screams grew louder as staff united with them. One of your favorite parts about Camp Stillwater was the lack of boys. You felt safe, and you loved the idea of getting to empower all these young impressionable women.

You held up a sign signaling your cabin number and a single file line began forming in front of you. You handed each of your girls red ribbons (matching the ones in your own hair) as a personal touch, trying to foster a bond right from the start. Meanwhile, Ellie stood around for her campers dapping them up, giving off the perfect “chill counselor” vibe. You found the lack of discipline a little obnoxious but to each their own. 

That night Stillwater kicked off camp with a bonfire complete with goodies for smores. You sat, knees together on the rough log, feeling as it left imprints of the bark on your bare thighs. Ellie sat just one log over goofing off with some other staff members, shooting an occasional glance at you.

The plastic bag of graham crackers crinkled as you ripped it open to begin assembling your late night snack. The hot air had turned cool with the lack of sun, but the preceding heat lingered in the melted chocolate you attempted to pass out. You stared as the sticky mallow and sweet liquid coco coated your fingers, inviting golden crumbs to join in. Ellie observed you deciding how to handle the mess, and with just a few seconds of thought, watched you stick your sugary soaked fingers straight in your mouth. A surge of guilt hit Ellie, noticing how much your licking troubled her. She clenched her thighs together and decided sweets just weren't for her.

With your hunger satisfied, the bonfire burned bright and you droned off getting lost in the flicker of the flames. Just then, you see a familiar Ellie in your peripherals wandering to the woods. Curious, you peeled your sticky legs from where you sat and got up to follow. You trailed behind her struggling to conceal your presence due to the snapping twigs under your feet. Ellie snaked her body back to acknowledge you and your obviousness. She loved to tease.

“Stalker much?” 

“God, you wish I was stalking you, Williams.” 

“So why are you following me then? Trying to catch me breakin’ the rules?” she questioned, half joking, half not. Continuing your follow, the two of you reached a more secluded part of the forest and Ellie halted.

“If you don’t want me to catch you, then maybe you should stop breaking rules. Ever think of that?” you taunted.

“Whatever Nancy Drew.” And with that, Ellie reached into her pocket pulling out a freshly rolled joint.

“You gonna bust me?” she teased before you quickly slapped the drugs out of her hands and into the moist dirt below.

“ELLIE!!!” you scolded her like she was a camper.

“Hey what the hell dude?!” she reached down to retrieve the now dirty joint and began to light it. A panicked look washed over your face and your eyes darted around, surveying for any possible company. God forbid you let this girl get you in trouble.

“I should be saying what the hell to you! Smoking on the job? So much for setting a good example… God, Ellie!” You palmed your face not sure how to proceed. In spite of your make believe beef, Ellie was your friend and you didn’t want to tattle. On the other hand though, the goodie two shoes and competitive freak inside wanted so badly to expose Ellie's naughty behavior. With her out of the picture, you could finish this summer out with a win. But, if you were being honest with yourself, camp wouldn’t be the same without her.

“Sorry, sorry. I know” Ellie shook her head at the ground pretending to be ashamed but she couldn’t have cared less. She knew you’d never tell, so on she went with her scheming.

“You wanna hit though?” 

“Ellie!!” This time you gave a blow to her exposed bicep, really trying to lay the guilt on thick.

“Come onnnn. This is your 3rd year here, you’ve gotta loosen up at some point. Just one hit? Please, for me?” Ellie flashed you the most annoying puppy dog eyes and a devilish smirk already anticipating your answer. Growing up you found it easy to resist peer pressure, you’ve always thought of yourself as a rule follower, but when it came to Ellie she always knew what to say to push you to the edge. She was such an instigator and you fell for her act every damn time.

“Fine… one hit.” She practically shoved the weed in your hands in excitement as you reluctantly gave in. Ellie always had so much fun chipping away at that good girl exterior you worked so hard to uphold. You then took a slow drag and passed it back to her. You fixated on her wet lips as they placed themselves around the joint. She took a quick inhale before an amused look spread across her face.

“Cherry?” Already feeling the high, you gave Ellie a puzzled look, not understanding what she meant. 

“Your lipgloss hun” She gestured to the pink stain rimming the tip of the joint.

Your face flushed red, “shit sorry.” You dug your foot into the ground and gave your lips a lick, recalling the fruity flavor.

“S’all good, I liked the taste” She replied, making your face turn a shade redder, almost matching the shorts that hugged your curves. Ellie would remember this moment, the taste of your lipgloss felt like a brush with destiny. Already assimilating the flavor to memory, she imagined her lips on yours and that cherry taste lingering in an exchange of saliva. God Ellie!! Stop being a perv and shut the fuck up!!

As one of the few masculine girls at camp, she was practically drowning in women, but her fixation with you prevented anything past a casual hook up. And casual hook up she did- with at least a fourth of the staff. Understandably, things got desperate being stuck at camp for 2 months straight. It’s not like you had the privacy to rub one out while sleeping in a room full of occupied bunk beds. But, with Ellie being a known player, you personally hadn’t thought twice about getting involved, despite the occasional butterflies. Bullying each other was more fun anyways.

Finally, Ellie finally finished off the joint, letting you take a couple more hits in between hers. She stomped the roach out into the moist ground making sure to put out any remaining embers. Her long stride pointed in the direction of the light filled cabins before you stopped her. With weed now rampant in your system, you weren’t ready for the night to end. 

“Waitttt, stopppp, we can’t go nowww!” You grabbed Ellie’s wrist leading her back into the darkness, straight towards the lake.

“What? You wanna hangout with me all of the sudden?”

“I- I wanna swim…” you mumbled, almost afraid to hear it come out of your mouth. One of the most important rules at Camp Stillwater was no swimming after dark. Ellie almost gasped hearing you propose such a mischievous idea. 

“Rulebreaker! Rulebreaker!” she chanted, almost falling over with laughter. Inside though, Ellie was kicking her feet at the thought of having a late night swim with her favorite girl. 

“Come on Els, you’re the one who told me to live a little. Pleaseeee!!” You bat your long lashes like a cartoon character but there was no need to beg as Ellie was already on board. She loved corrupting you.

“I’ll race you!!” She shouted before dashing through the trees, kicking up dirt with each long stride. Of course she turned it into a competition, and you bolted right after her trying to catch up.

Neither of you even stopped to breathe as you reached the edge of the lake. Instead shirts, shorts, and shoes all flying off your bodies landing amongst the greenery, desperate to get your sweaty bodies into the cool, evening waters. As you dived in, a sense of euphoria washed over your body along with the deep blue ripples of H2O. Ellie’s head rose out of the water 2nd. She slicked her wet hair back and gave you a toothy smile that was to die for. You giggled at the sight, everything seeming a bit more silly while under the influence. 

“Having fun princess?” she questioned, cheeks full.

“Yeah I am,” you smiled back, “I don’t think the fact that I’m breaking like 5 different rules has hit me yet.”

“Enough with the rules, let's have fun!” Ellie dove back into the water circling around your smooth legs. She took ur skin between her pointer and thumb, giving you little pinches like some sort of sea creature. You kicked and squirmed in reaction causing Ellie to shoot back up from her underwater adventure.

“Fuck off!” you shoved her bare shoulder with a teasing force. She put her hands up surrendering to your irritation. Her veiny arms glistened with lake water and your eyes wandered before getting stuck on the large tattoo adorning her forearm.

“Hey, that wasn’t there last summer.” you gestured to her.

“Yeah, uh, I got it a few months ago”

“It looks good,” you paused, “can I touch?” Ellie offered out her inked limb to you. It rested in your left hand and you used your right to trace the linework. Water droplets collected with each gentle brush of your fingertips. Goosebumps followed your delicate touch and Ellie's face turned red with enjoyment. 

“S’pretty” you said, noticing a blush growing across your own face. You glanced off into the distance at the silence. The thick forest trees and bright stars urged you to take in a deep, pollution free inhale. Ellie broke the moment of zen to speak.

“Turn around.” she demanded. You obliged immediately despite her unknown intentions. You felt her hot breath on your neck and sudden skin-to-skin contact. She hooked her long fingers around your wet locks of hair, moving them across your back to one side. A chill radiated down your spine

“What are you doing Ellie?” you whispered. The closeness you shared and the now still lake, cloaked with haze, sent a hush over the both of you. 

“Guess what I’m drawing” she whispered back. You scrunched up your shoulders in response to her vibrations hitting at your pulse. The feeling of her rough fingers met your back and began tracing symbols. You attempted to focus on her movements but it proved hard to decipher the message when she felt so close. Despite knowing Ellie for a long time, the two of you had never had this much prolonged touch. It ignited a feeling that you weren’t sure how to get control of. The silence hinted at your cluelessness.

“Here I’ll do it again,” she said, drawing out "I ♡ U” once more across your back.

“Fuck, I dont know. A dick?” You turned back to face Ellie questioning her with a giggle. Her face was littered with disappointment before quickly concealing it from you with a big splash of water. The tender moment was lost. She went along with your answer, lying through her teeth. 

“Fine, you got me freak! It was a dick.” You splashed Ellie back harder, amused by her childish humor. The water slinging continued until you both became absolutely winded and ready to climb in bed. Oh fuck, bed...

“ELLIE, OH MY GOD, CURFEW!” you practically squealed before switching to breaststroke and heading towards land. Ellie snapped out of this little dream and followed after you.

You frantically threw on your clothes over your now soaked bra and panties. Wet spots began seeping through your shorts as you fiddled with your sneakers. Your wet feet swirled in the dirt below, caking them with the mud of your making. You vetoed the shoes and bolted towards the cabins completely barefoot. You were so focused on getting back that you hardly even noticed the branches and rocks assaulting your skin.

“FUCK WAIT UP!!” Ellie yelled, just feet behind you. As you looked back to acknowledge her request your ankle caught on a huge log that littered the forest's path. Your balance was thrown and your face went plummeting straight into the ground, hitting a dull rock on its way down. Ellie’s pace doubled as she jumped to your rescue. She fell to her knees by your side giving you support as you lifted yourself up. Looking down, your hands were dirty, stuck wood chips pressed into the skin. You dusted them off against each other, seemingly fine.

“Bro, oh my god, are you okay??” Ellie pestered, worried out of her mind. 

“I think, yeah. It was honestly more embarrassing than painful.” you gave a light chuckle before looking up from the ground when suddenly a gush of liquid escaped your nose. Your finger dipped into the steady flow and you took note of the deep red now covering them.

“Just great.” you rolled your eyes. Ellie had the most concerned look on her face despite your injury being a simple bloody nose.

“We’ve gotta get you to the nurse like now!”

“Ellie chill, I’d rather not have an encounter with authority while I'm high as fuck and out past curfew.” You never thought you'd be saying that sentence.

“Fine, at least take this.” Ellie handed you a crumpled up tissue she had retrieved from her athletic shorts and you shoved it up your nose halting the flow.

Returning to the main area of the campgrounds felt like a walk of shame. You were drenched, muddy, and decorated in your own blood, and Ellie looked just as bad. Eventually the two of you reached your neighboring cabins and there waiting in between the steps of 11 and 12 was Warden Campbell. Fuck.

 ✄ - - - -   part 1 , part 2 , part 3   - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 4

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Jazz guided Jason through the halls to the library, it seemed to be in a different wing of the castle from where the living spaces were. When they reached a split between a hallway and a set of stairs she hesitated, placing a hand on one one of the banisters and turning to face him. She looked at him considering before nodding to herself and picking up her skirts to go up the stairs.

"We'll take a shortcut over the wall, because you're death-touched you can safely breathe the air without it overwhelming you with intense emotions and obsessive behavior." She said absentmindedly to him as if air that could cause such things were normal.

"Uh, glad for that then?" He said following her. She opened the door at the top of the stairs and strode outside, not even glancing at the absurd sky.

It was eerie to say the least, swirling Lazarus and emerald green with purples and blacks making the sky look like an oil slick. He expected the air of the dimension that contains all the afterlives to be colder, but it was pleasantly warm with a gentle breeze blowing by. If he closed his eyes he could imagine standing on a hill watching the clouds go by. On one side of the wall they were atop was a courtyard containing plants that Ivy would drool for, it was nearly as overrun as her greenhouse.

He noticed one of the towers had what appears to be an observatory, though he wasn't sure what besides doors, floating islands and general terrifying shapes they would see through it. "What's with the observatory?"

She glanced at it and gained a fond smile on her face. "That's Danny's. He always wanted to be an astronaut but circumstances prevented that. That telescope can connect to any telescope in our home universe. Even the ones in deep space. He's going to IRU right now for aerospace navigation. There's a dimension he was hoping to spend a couple years in before he has to take the crown that has intergalactic space travel as the norm." She seemed to light up when she spoke of her brother, obviously proud of him.

"Wait, Danny's who you're Regent for? Not a son?" Jason wouldn't have minded if she had a kid kicking around, but to find that the kid he met earlier is the future King of Everything In-between was surprising.

"Oh, yes, Right, I'll explain everything I can once we get to the library, it's just through here." Once inside again, she took brisk steps forward to doors directly across the hall. "Here we are, my favorite spot is just this way."

They stepped out onto a second floor balcony of a three story high library. Books spanned from floor to ceiling in a room the size of a small stadium. Shelves and tables made from a purple wood polished to a shine. Deep red velvet seats on all the chairs and couches in each of the reading spaces. Jason stood flabbergasted at the sheer volume of books present. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see a conspiratorial smile in teal eyes. "I had the same reaction when I first came here. Come on, my favorite spot to talk is this way."

They made their way to a corner of the library that had a pair of chairs, a tea table between them and a small fireplace, lit with a ghostly blue flame. They sat and she looked at the fire, then at him, then back at the fire and sighed heavily. She closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts before she spoke.

"Once upon a time there were three scientists in college who wanted to build a portal to the 'Ghost Zone' as they called it so they could study an research entities they referred to as 'ghosts'. Their definition being that any entity that produces, metabolizes or consumes the substance ectoplasm is a 'ghost'." She paused here, clasping her hands together and looking down at them. "There was an accident, I'm not going to go into too many details for now, but just know that one of the scientists became something more than human. The first of his kind in a millennia, a statistical improbability. Some things happened and he believed that he lost the only woman he could ever love to the man that caused him to become something other than human, to become partially one of the creatures they sought to capture and experiment on.

She glanced up and stared into the middle distance, remembering. "Twenty years pass and the two other scientists are now married with children. They've had a lab in their home since they graduated college at the top of their field in ectoscience. They have a daughter and a son, both are born ectocontaminated though they don't know for years later. They've been working on a new portal, this time bigger, large enough to fit a car through." She laughs lightly. "I remember coming down and shoving granola bars and thermoses filled with soup when they were on work binges, determined to get 'just a little bit more done Jazzy-pants, then we'll go to bed'" She gazed wistfully at the fire. "They usually did once they finished whatever food I brought to them, not wanting to have a repeat of the last time they left something with old food in it and it gained sentience and mass enough to chew a few hazmat boots."

She seemed lost for a moment before she cleared her throat. "Sorry, um, where was I?" She blinked before raising a hand up pointing at the ceiling. "Right, the portal. So they spent a good decade start to finish on it. It was going to be their crowning achievement, but when they plugged it in they saw some sparks, but nothing else happened." She folded her hands together on her lap. "They left for a weekend. Went to search for some cryptid they had been meaning to go find for years, but had put off to work on the portal. I was in charge for the weekend, a thing I was used to from whenever they were on design binges. Danny had his friends over and I was in my room studying. I had my headphones on, I don't even remember what band was playing, and I think I was working on chem homework?" She shook herself from the thought. "Anyway, there was this power surge, I remember just thinking that I was mad that it happened right during my favorite part of the song and I was singing into my pencil. When the lights went out, I had the usual expected dread in the pit of my stomach, but something felt especially frightening in this moment. I didn't have time to dwell on it, shaking it off as just being paranoid. I was more concerned with getting my music back on after that. I should have realized something had happened." She tightened her hands until the shook, pale knuckles stood out.

"I'm not telling you details, but there was another accident with a portal, this time it was Danny. He became something more than human. He became the second halfa in a millennia."

"Halfa?"

"Yes, Half human, half ghost. An anomaly, a myth, a statistical outlier. He walks the line between life and death. He will have many titles once he takes the throne, and one of those will be the Balance."

"Damn, that's a lot to put on a kid. How'd that happen?"

"I found out all of this second-hand mind you. I may have known his secret when it all happened, but he didn't know I knew yet."

"How'd he hide suddenly having powers? I don't expect he had particularly good control over them at first, I know several supers who didn't."

Jazz hung her head in shame. "I was too deep in my own head at that point. I was neck-deep in research on how to parent troubled teens because while I missed all his slips for power usage, I did not miss his decline in grades. Especially when the chemistry teacher approached me about the fact he kept 'dropping' equipment." She held up air quotes. "Turns out not being able to control tangibility can cause mass amounts of property damage, who knew?" she shrugged her shoulders.

"So basically, the original halfa guy from earlier managed to gain wealth and power using his powers in increasingly shady ways. He also grew obsessed with my mom and blamed my dad for turning him into a halfa. He wanted revenge. He invited us all to a college reunion where he found out about Danny. Things happened and they became nemeses with Vlad wanting Danny to denounce our father and become his son with my mom at his side. You're allowed to say ew, it was very ew for a long time." She laughed at his scrunched up face. "Anyway, he finds out about ancient ghostly artefacts that are supposed to give the user unimaginable power, and finds out where they are. He finds out they are locked away with the former King of the Realms, and he expects to be able to just grave rob the ruler of the Infinite. He manages to get the Ring before Pariah wakes up, and somehow manages to escape back to out home dimension. All ghosts flee the Realms through the most stable portal available; the one in my family basement. This causes alerts to go out all across the town and my parents put up defenses for people to huddle under during everything. Some stuff happened and it ended up leading to Danny taking a suit our parents had built and defeating the former King Pariah Dark and sealing him away in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.

"Infinite Realms Law dictates that if the leader is defeated in single combat, and the combatant continues after said encounter, then they are to be crowned High Royal and any family members gain royal titles as well. Danny is, however, too young for his classification. He is too young by human years, he must be twenty-one for that, and too young for halfa standards, he must be a halfa for a decade. He won't be of the majority for at least another five years, and then he must have it on the following solstice. Until that time, he is High Prince and must work on learning leadership and combat skills." She gazed calmly at him, resigned for her brother's fate.

"So how'd you end up Regent?" She sighed and closed her eyes, shoulders dropping.

"We had a council for a while, the Council of Ancients, new and old working alongside the Observants. It worked for a little while, but something happening in my home dimension was causing issues. You see, the ghost problem in our town after the portal opened became a pretty big issue when property damage resulted in the thousands and you can't bill the dead. Danny was doing his best to fight off as much as he could, but he wasn't trained and was very new to his powers. It didn't help that our parents were shooting at him while he was trying to save people." She grumbled and Jason's hands tightened to fists.

"What do you mean they shot at him?" He asked as evenly as he could. He could feel the tinges of old hurts coming to the surface. A Batarang to the throat.

"They never hit him, he dodged every time. They didn't know it was him. They thought it was just a ghost, and to them, all ghosts were evil. They had a lot of bias in the majority of their research, but as soon as they found out who he was they immediately changed tack. They had Danny stay at Vlad's for a weekend, which was it's own can of worms, while they disarmed the house and set everything to ignore his ecto signature." She looked thoughtful. "Apparently Vlad wasn't a complete jerk that weekend either, Danny told him what they found out and Vlad, worried for the second of his species, actually helped him through some emotions and helped him train some. I think it's what started on his redemption actually."

Jason breathed out heavily letting his rage dissipate. "You keep saying 'the second' instead of the 'the only'. There are more?" He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, yes, there's Ellie and Dante. Ellie is my younger sister, she's a clone of Danny Vlad made, and Dante is an evil alternate timeline version of Danny and Vlad that fused together and is inhabiting a clone of Danny Vlad wasn't able to pull into consciousness." She let him digest that for a moment.

Jason choked out a laugh. "Man, and I thought my sibling situation was weird."

Jazz's eyes narrowed, appraising him almost like a predator eyeing prey. "Hmm. We'll discuss your family situation later." She cleared her throat gathering her thoughts. "Anyway, so the property damage led to the government getting involved. More specifically a branch known as the Ghost Investigation Ward or GIW for short. They were founded on the first research papers my parents produced which were heavily biased against ecto-entities on a whole. They were extremely prejudiced against ghosts.

"They started out as a nuisance. Someone easily distracted by getting their suits dirty or faulty equipment. Then the Anti-Ecto Acts were ratified. Then they got bolder. They paid my parents a fake amount of money to buy the house as-is with the portal. They planned to send a nuke in to destroy the Realms believing it to be full of horrendous monsters. Thankfully the nuke was a dud model and someone definitely got fired that day in ordering. But after that they just started to get worse and worse. They were starting to go after anyone who pinged on their detectors, which were just getting more and more precise as time went on.

"Here's the thing about Amity Park, my hometown. It was founded by witches fleeing the witch trials. It sits at the crossing between ley lines, and it's always been a spot that the veil was thin. Ectoplasm would leak through natural portals that popped up from time to time. Add a stable portal to the mix? The entire town was now ectocontaminated. They were now classified as liminal. They were now death-touched enough that they pinged on the GIW's equipment. They began raiding people's homes, accusing them of harboring ghosts. Danny's entire home room got taken in for questioning one day, they had set up little interrogation rooms like a blood drive in the gymnasium." She chuckled darkly. "They got so close so many times, too many times." Her left hand clenched into a fist.

"My parents found out about Danny when the raids first started. He'd decided it was time to come clean because it was only a matter of time before they came knocking at our door. Thankfully, they came while Danny was at Vlad's and they never had the guts to storm the billionaire's house. I managed to avoid detection by wearing a Specter-Deflector and my parents were always in their hazmat suits so they didn't ping either. Things got worse, Danny had to beg the Council to make an edict to not come through the portal for the foreseeable future.

"It didn't work, various beings saw it as a challenge. They began to lose faith in their future ruler. If he couldn't protect his little town and the people in it, how was he supposed to protect them? It was a common sentiment. It was something I grew tired of hearing during one particular fight." She stared at the blue flames of the fireplace, not seeing the flickering light. "Danny was down. Mom and Dad and Vlad were fighting together to both capture the ghost before they could do more damage and stop the GIW from capturing another ghost to experiment on and dispose of. The ghost was the fourth one that week spouting the same bullshit." She spat the word out like a curse, growling before looking into the middle distance with sad eyes. Softly, she spoke, "There was an explosion." She blinked, coming back to focus. My parents were down. My youngest siblings were now fighting. I made a decision." She squared her shoulders and tightened her jaw, determination filling out her features. "I had been helping Danny study to become King, I had read up on all the important laws. I took the Specter Speeder to the council chambers. I stood before them and declared as the eldest and therefore heir and head of the Nightingale family, the Royal family, and that I was at the majority for my classification, I would be taking the title of Regent until Danny reached his majority. I took the Crown and the Ring and my own suit and went to the fight.

"I told Dante and Ellie to get Danny and go, there was nothing that could be done for our parents. I subdued and contained the ghost and then beat back the GIW until they were at the borders of Amity. Then, using power I had just gained, I pulled the entire town into the Infinite Realms." She held out her hands, gesturing to the general vicinity.

He sat with that for a moment. "Wait, wait wait, you're just gonna skim over the fact your parents died?"

Jazz's eyes hardened. "Never." Her eyes glowed yellow for a moment and her hair seemed to float a bit when she said the word. "I just met you, and it's still a sore wound, I'd rather not get into it if that's alright with you." She held herself rigid as if expecting him to press the issue.

"Whoa, it's okay, nevermind, touchy subject, I get it. Most people I know have their parents as a touchy subject. Especially dead ones." He kept his posture open, slouching a little to show he didn't mean to pry.

She hummed thoughtfully, appraising him once more. "So, I told you my story, earlier you told me some of yours. I think that's enough sharing for one day. I don't know about you, but I am very tired. If you like, you may stay here. Just ring the bell on the mantle and Jeeves will be here to assist you. If not, I'd be glad to walk you back to the guest rooms, they are down the hall from the family rooms." She stood and waited for his response.

"Um, yeah, let's walk back together. I had a couple questions about some of the books in my room?" They walked and talked together as they made their way towards the bedrooms. They parted ways with a promise to read the same book and give each other feedback on it in a week.

"Well, this is me." He said awkwardly indicating the hall his room was in, hers was in the opposite hall.

"Yup, I'm not sure when I'll get the chance to see you tomorrow, I have a full day up until dinner, but I'll see you then?" She looked inquiringly at him.

"Yeah, definitely! See you tomorrow!" He said and turned down the hall. He jogged until he got to the door, opened it and then leaned against it falling to the floor. "Okay, so I may not have entirely screwed this up, but man, she's been through a lot already. Do I want to add my shit to it?" He thought to himself, spiraling until he was clutching his hair. He growled and stood up, then stalked towards the bed and flopped down on it, back first this time.

"I mean, I might be stuck here, so would my baggage really matter that much?" He laid there for a moment before deciding to get ready for bed. Once laying down again, he kept thinking of all the different ways he as a person could fuck this or her up if he pursued a relationship. He worried himself to sleep that night.

[fadingdaggerr]

heaven’s gate

pairing: larissa weems x gn!reader (r is only ever referred to as queer, no other specifics)

summary: locking eyes with a woman at a bar and finding purpose in her kiss

warnings (in order): alcohol consumption, making out, smut (thigh riding, fingering, eating out, heavy praise), r is a simp the whole time, so much side character use bc i like making up lil stories about the little people in my head, pretty dialogue heavy in some parts

note: sorry i’ve been gone, i’ve had severe writers block and my birthday was this past weekend so i was out and about. never written smut before so this is different from my usual comfort zone, let me know what y’all think <3 i also tried to keep r neutral as possible to accommodate all presentations and identities :)

the wind whipped against your face as you steadily continued along the sidewalk, numbing your cheeks. the honking of cars and chatter around becoming white noise as you were dead set on your destination, only need at this point to get out of the wind tunnels. an arm looked through yours suddenly, breaking your pace slightly.

“babe, you have got to slow down. these boots are not meant for walking, they’re for attracting,” parker says as he clings to you for warmth, even with his long emerald green jacket on.

you laugh a little, “i’m not freezing my ass off because you chose heeled shoes when you knew damn well we’re in the old district. that means cobblestone streets. i thought you had a college degree?” he shoves you with a laugh, there’s no point in arguing with the truth. he complains the rest of the way, and you just ignore him until he finally stops when the club comes into view.

the vibration of the music could be felt in the floors, on the chairs, at the bar. everything hummed together, music and voices. you took it all in until a rum and coke slid right next to your hand. you nod at the bartender in thanks, turning to take in the club, smiling at the group taking a photo in from of the lavender’s orbit sign with giant smiles and little pride flags in hand. your eyes continue to scan as you bring your glass to your mouth, then double back when a set of eyes connects with yours.

resting against a tall stool, martini in hand, was the most enchanting being you’d ever seen. lips curved into a smirk at your staring, but it didn’t stop you. you allow your eyes to travel down, taking in her short, white dress and her long legs, watching as blue and purple lights sway and highlight her body. your eyes snap back go to hers, returning her smirk before continuing your look around.

you find parker by the pool tables, cheering on the group playing there, not so subtle in his hands caressing one of their arms. you shake your head with a laugh, he was on a mission, just as he had said before you’d left. parker sees you and waves your over excitedly.

“okay, okay so will you play pool with me? and like, help me get them to like me?” he says pointing at the person in bleach-dyed overalls, only a red binder underneath.

“one game,” you say holding up one finger, “i’m not playing matchmaker all night, there’s someone i think i need to talk to by the bar.”

he jumps a little, hugging you, “okay perfect, one game is all i need. then i can help you get some.”

you grab a cue stick, applying chalk as you speak, “i don’t need help. and i think you’ll be a little to preoccupied to help me anyways.”

the object of parker’s affection, max, and their friend arlo, let you break the set. a singular solid ball fell in, putting you into a head start. as the game continued, you told parker what to do so that you could both win and help him with max, which didn’t seem to be an issue. the eight ball was your last in, as you aimed, you could feel eyes on you, burning into your back. turning, you see the woman from earlier watching, new drink, same look in her eyes. you nod towards her then shoot, the eight ball drops into the cup.

parker grabs you, jumping as he holds you, mostly just shaking you like a rag doll. max and arlo shake your hand. deepening their voices to sound all gruff and puffing their chests as they both say “good game, good game,” before breaking and laughing at themselves.

the three step away to get more drinks, and you turn back to where the woman in white had been, but instead she was walking back from the bar, two drinks in hand. she approaches you, setting one drink in your hand. a rum and coke.

“larissa,” she says, “that was quite the game.”

you accept the drink with a smile, introducing yourself, “the game? i don’t recall your eyes being on the cues.”

“perhaps not, but how could they look at anything else?” her words send a shiver down your spine, “let’s go sit, darling.”

you begin moving to find a place to sit down and talk with her. her hand rests on your hip as you walk to keep close to you and not get separated. her touch was electrifying, even through your shirt. you let her sit first, then place yourself next to her, close enough that your legs touch and her perfume fills your nose.

“what do you do for work, larissa?” you ask, eyes looking into hers. you couldn’t see how blue they were before, cursing the dim lighting around you for not gifting you this privilege earlier.

“i’m an english teacher at nevermore, it’s a private academy up in jericho,” she says proudly.

you nod excitedly, “i’ve heard of it! my friend jaya went there in high school since she lived closer to there than byron’s home in rochester.”

her eyes widen, voice nervous, “you know about outcasts?”

you grab her hand, “i am an outcast, i went to byron’s. maybe you know her, jaya o’leary? gorgon, perfect eyebrows despite not getting them done ever in her life?”

larissa laughs, “yes! we had a couple classes together during third year, that’s quite the coincidence.”

“all roads lead back,” you say, mostly to yourself. larissa’s lips form into a soft smile, the hand that’s still in yours tightening.

“what do you do?” she asks.

“i’m a counselor. i run support groups and one-on-ones for anyone in need, we have varying specialists and everything,” you say before you take a sip of your drink.

larissa leans closer, “what do you specialize in?” there’s genuine interest in her voice, and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

“queer adolescence and trauma. there’s a lot of kids that need a place to just exist as they are, and home is a confinement cell,” you say looking down into your lap, then back to larissa. she smiles at you, thumb running across yours.

“that’s an admirable profession, you should be incredibly proud of yourself,” her words are so heartfelt that you feel your chest bloom.

“thank you. and for the record, teaching is equally important. it’s a multi-faceted role, you should be proud too,” your eyes are locked with hers, trying to convey that your words are true.

just as she’s about to reply, a scream of your name catches both your attentions. parker’s freckles face popping into view as you watch him bob and weave through the crowd quickly until he stands before you with a giant smile. he almost speaks, but his eyes move to larissa then back to you with a playful smile.

“first of all, nice. second, wow. third, i am going to disappear for a little bit, are you okay here? i can stay if you need me too,” his words are hopeful, but you know his promise of staying is just as true, he’d never leave you if you said no.

“i’m okay, go have your fun and text me. for the love of god, wear a condom. and for the love of your best friend, do not give me extreme details about this later or i will vomit in your shoes,” you say as you shoo him away. he grabs your face and presses a fat kisses to your cheek with an i love you, i love you, i love you, before running off to max.

you groan and wipe your cheek, where did the gloss come from? larissa giggles next to you at the interaction, hand over her mouth. “nice and wow? he’s sweet,” she laughs.

your head hangs low, “that would be parker, the bane of my existence and my assigned ward at this point.” this makes her laugh again, and you almost think you heard angels singing.

“would that be the reason you didn’t come up to me sooner?” larissa prods.

you laugh a bit, looking at her through your lashes, “unfortunately, yes. he needed me to help him win the game so that he could look good.”

her tongue goes across her teeth, “i think it worked better for you, at least in my opinion.”

it’s your turn to lean a little closer now, “well i almost lost because someone, not going to name names, was quite distracting during the final round.”

her hand leaves yours, much to your dismay, but quickly finds its way to your thigh, “oh, i’m sorry. how could i ever make it up to you, almost-loser?” her tone and fake pout nearly kill you on the spot, her touch was making the fire within you burn hotter and hotter.

your hand rises to her neck, caressing her jaw with your thumb. she was so beautiful it was making you dizzy, but you spoke regardless, “i think you’ve already made it up to me just being right here,” you feel her cheek warm under your hand, “maybe i should be thanking you, you might have been my good luck charm instead.”

her lips are only centimeters from yours as she says, “maybe you can repay me then somehow.”

—

her lips were soft, but her kiss was not. her teeth nipped at your bottom lips as she pulled away to breathe, only to pull you back in. one hand gripped her waist, the other against the brick wall behind her to hold you up. her own held you face, keeping you as close as possible. the breathy moans she let out through the kiss made your grip on her tighten, then slide down more, just over the curve of her ass. you pull her hips into you, making another noise leave her.

her lips detach detach from yours, angling her head down, she begins to nip at your neck. you could’ve sworn she was a drug, your own personal aphrodisiac. your hand slides down more, catching her thigh and bringing it to your hip, pressing your hips into hers to give some friction. a noise escapes her at this action, something that makes you need to kiss her again, truly kiss her.

you lean away, ducking your head to catch her lips once again, kissing her with less lust and more intimacy. you savor the way she shivers as your fingers draw little patterns on her thigh as you kiss her, pouring everything into it. she pulls away, panting lightly. your lips migrate to her neck, gentle kisses and nips as you both catch your breath.

through heavy breaths larissa says, “my hotel is only six blocks away.”

your head leaves her neck, pressing a quick kiss to her lips, “my apartment is four.”

your eyes stay locked together, both of you grinning like teenagers. you whip your phone out of your back pocket, opening parker’s contact.

to: park nasty going back to my place. do NOT come back unannounced i was serious about the shoe thing. be safe ily

you shove your phone back in your pocket, hand now extended to larissa. she immediately takes it, weaving her fingers with yours and wrapping the other arm around yours, holding you to her. you’re about to speak to her again when you phone chimes.

from: park nasty ily babe go get some!! and a little more!!!! lord knows i’m about to go back for thirds

larissa reads the message from beside you, laughing at the outlandish text. you groan at it before typing your own quickly

to: park nasty damn give the poor thing a little recovery time u absolute creature. i’m not gonna feel bad for u tomorrow when u complain

you chuckle and put your phone back in your pocket. you look at larissa before you both burst out laughing. she didn’t even know parker but she basically got the full extent of him within one text and watching the two of you interact while playing pool and when he came to you both.

“i see what you mean by the assigned ward thing now,” she says through a chuckle.

you guide her to your street, “he’s a menace, but he’s the best friend anyone could ask for. the descriptive details of his sex life are the price i pay for friendship.”

she just has to ask, “park nasty?”

you cackle, “he decided on day one of us meeting at byron’s that that would be his name in my phone. he thought it would stick, like everyone would call him that or something.”

she laughs with you, “and did they?”

“no!” you laugh loudly, “who’s gonna call a fourteen year old boy that?” she giggles at the story, “but i never changed it because i thought it was so stupid that it was hilarious.”

larissa clings to you and rests her head against yours as you unlock the gate in front of the door, then enter the code to get into the building. you have her step ahead of you, guiding her to your door with a gentle hand on her lower back. she’s back against you as you unlock your door and let yourselves in. you grab her purse and place it on the bench behind the door, then take her coat hanging it on the hooks, along with your own.

just as you look back at her, her lips crash into yours. you immediately kiss her back, hands flying to her hips and holding her tight. hers found their way to hold the back of your neck, blunt nails digging into your skin. you began walking her backwards to your room, staying against the door for a minute as you savor each others touch. you fumble for the knob, backing her in once the door is closed. you’re completely overtaken by her, her lips, her touch, the way she’s holding you like you’ll disappear.

larissa’s knees hit the bed, and she pulls you to her lap as she sits down. you push her back more, laying her on the bed. you lips migrate from hers to her neck, creating more marks to go with the ones from before. working your way down, you press kisses to the expanse of her chest, pale skin just begging to be painted in your affection.

larissa’s legs shift and you suddenly find yourself under her, her dress riding up and exposing more of her thighs. her lips go back to assaulting yours, her hands sliding underneath your shirt to trace the skin of your abdomen. only breaking away to gently ask, “is this okay?”

you smile at her, leaning up to kiss her cheek, “more than okay, i promise.”

her lips are back on yours, your hands are back on the creamy skin of her thighs. she was your new drug of choice, you couldn’t stop the venturing of your hands on her body as her lips and tongue pulled soft moans from you. you need more of her, as much as she’ll allow you.

you shift your hips, raising your right leg to press you thigh to her center, making her lips stutter as she moaned against your chest. her hips instinctually buck against your thigh again, and you hear her breath hitch.

“are you okay? we can stop,” you ask gently, gently stroking the skin of her thigh to assure her.

“don’t,” she rushes out, “i want this, i want you.”

there’s nothing to do except kiss her, kiss her so that it feel like a promise. your hands slide from her thighs to her hips, slowly guiding her against you. she moans into your mouth and your hands move her hips faster, her pleasure was all you could think about.

her moans grew whinier as she desperately moved against you. her forehead pressed into yours as her release grew closer and closer.

“you’re so beautiful,” you mutter, pressing your lips to hers, sitting up so she was now on your lap. the new angle and your words forced a filthy moan from her lips, “and you sound so beautiful. god, how do i deserve this?”

larissa could only kiss you harder, stealing the breath from your lungs. her hips wild against your thigh, the feeling of your hands gripping her hips, it was all too much. your lips found their way to her chest again, you nudge fabric out of the way to kiss along her breasts, gentle love bites that were soothed by your tongue.

larissa’s hips began to falter, moans becoming louder and longer. you flex your thigh more, kissing her as you move her hips faster. her hands grip at you shoulders, eyes screwed tight with pleasure. she was so close.

“open your eyes, baby. i wanna see you, can i see your beautiful eyes?” you ask as you kiss her neck and jaw, biting the skin every now and then, “please?”

larissa’s eyes flutter open, lust-drunk eyes looking into yours. you quickly reward her by pushing her further down on your thigh, making a sweet moan come from her as she looks into your eyes.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” a kiss to her chest, “you’re doing so well,” a kiss to her neck, “you can let go whenever you’re ready,” a kiss to her jaw, “i can’t wait to see you fall apart just for me,” a final kiss to her lips.

your words seem to be the undoing of larissa weems. she moans loudly against your lips, hips quickening then stuttering. blue eyes find yours as a long and beautiful song escapes her, thighs shaking. you’re in awe, entirely captivated by her. you can already tell that you’re not going to be able to let her go, your mind had been screaming to keep her close since you saw her. this sight was the only thing that mattered now, pleasing larissa was your life mission.

her forehead drops to yours, eyes shut, breath heavy. you stay there for a moment, unmoving, allowing her to come down peacefully. your raise your arm slowly, gently brushing hair from her face before cupping her cheek. her cheek presses into your palm, and you just have to kiss her. it’s soft and sweet, just a reminder that she’s cared for. she pulls back, eyes opening slowly. all you can do is smile at her, and she returns it gently. your lips find her cheek, pressing a few kisses to her skin.

“where the hell have you been?” she says with a breathy laugh.

you smile harder at her words, “i’ve been right here. guess you’ll have to come to the city more often.”

“or you’ll just have to come to jericho,” she says playfully.

you kiss her softly before speaking, “i have a good reason to it seems. a very beautiful reason at that.”

she pushes you back, leaning over you to press her lips against yours. the dance is slow, meaningful. her tongue grazes your lips for entry, and she’s given it without second thoughts. she kisses with full passion, telling you everything with every movement. she sucks on your bottom lip, making you groan and pull her face closer. all you want, need is her. you whine as she pulls back, and she gives you a quick kiss to appease you.

her fingers begin to lift your shirt up slowly, eyes searching for permission. you grab one of her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. you grab her other hand and guide them both under your shirt, letting her know you’re okay. she strips you of your shirt, and kissing down your chest and belly. her hands find your belt buckle, undoing it quickly while you lift your hips help her remove it. she climbs back up, kissing a trail from waist to your lips. your hands fall to her back, finding the zipper of her dress as she lazily kissed you.

she sits up and her dress falls down, revealing a lack of bra, leaving her in ruined panties. you sit up and your lips immediately find her chest, wrapping around one nipple as your hands traced her body. your tongue swirls around her, leaving her skin with with a gentle kiss before moving to the other.

“god, you feel so good,” she lets out breathily, whimpering at your touch. after a bit she forces your head away from her chest, pushing you back down to remove your pants and her dress, evening the amount of clothing you both wore.

the view of her above you was breathtaking, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. her hair was messy, lipstick smudged around her face, bruises and bites across her neck and chest. she was a goddess in your presence.

“what are you staring at me for?” she whispers, insecurity well hidden.

“you’re… you’re just so god damn gorgeous larissa,” you pull her down and roll so that you’re on top of her, “i can hardly believe you’re here, that you’re even real,” you kiss her softly. your lips trail down her neck, to her chest, down to her stomach, “and i get to see you like this.”

she pulls you up to her again, kissing you soundly, “it’s hard to believe you’re real yourself. never has anyone spoke to me like this, even made me feel like this.”

you frown at her words, mad at her past lovers for not appreciating her enough. “can i show you how beautiful you are?” you ask gently, nuzzling your nose against her cheek before continuing, “can i taste you?”

she groans at your words, turning her face to kiss you hard, “please.”

you kiss her again, trailing back down her body. reaching her center, you place a light kiss to her thigh, biting the plush surface then soothing it with your tongue. your fingers lightly trace up her legs to hook in her panties and pull them down. you bite your tongue, nearly moan at the sight.

you kiss along her thighs some more, slowly moving closer to where she needed you. you look up at her, “do you want me to continue?”

her hand reaches down for one of yours, and you are quick to follow, tangling your fingers together. she squeezes your hand, “yes.”

you kiss her mound gently, then move to her clit. wrapping your tongue around her, her hand grips yours. your tongue swirls her clit some more before going to taste her fully. your tongue gathers her wetness, you moan into her at the taste. the vibration alone makes larissa choke out a strangled moan. you continue to lap at her, slow, long strokes against her, savoring every second.

a long lick up back to her clit, sucking it gently, working larissa up. your hand that was wrapped around her thigh came to her entrance, slowly pressing your middle finger into her. she moans softly at the touch, squeezing your hand as you pumped your finger slowly.

“more,” she whines, “please.”

you follow command, adding your ring finger when you push back into her again while your tongue plays with her clit. a deep moan leaves her, only egging you on. quickening the pace of both your tongue and your fingers, you feel her legs wrap around you.

you pull back from he clit, pressing a kiss to it when she whimpers. “do you want more, baby?” your only response is a nod and a moan of your name.

your mouth is back on her, only to pull away again to watch her take a third finger. when your forefinger enters her as well, her moans echo off the walls. she pulls the hand she’s holding, wanting for your lips. you keep your fingers in her, letting her adjust as you climb up to kiss her. her arms wrap around your shoulders while her hips chase your fingers, moaning into your mouth. your thumb finds her clit, toying it in circles at the same pace as your fingers fuck into her faster.

you shove your face into her neck, sucking the skin and licking it and she grinds harder against you. she grows frantic in her movements as she gets closer, her walls hugging your fingers.

you move back down, replacing your thumb with your mouth. her moans become more whispers, her breathing shallow. “you can cum, baby. let me taste you,” you whisper.

your tongue and fingers move together at a fast pace, willing larissa to cum. the tight curl your fingers inside her makes her cry your name out as she climaxes. you remove one finger at a time as you slowly fuck her through her orgasm, bringing your fingers to your mouth to clean them. her eyes bore into you as she watches, you watch her in return. you keep your eyes on her as you clean her folds with her tongue, greedily taking every last drop of her.

“you taste like heaven,” you say as you kiss up her body, finding purchase in her neck. you press a kiss to her skin before asking, “you alright?”

she grazes her finger up and down your spine, “more than alright.”

you pull away from her, shuffling off the bed to stand up. she watches as you grab a t-shirt from the top of your dresser and throw it on, admiring you from the bed. “i’ll be right back,” you press a kiss to her cheek before turning to leave the room.

true to your word, you return within a minute, two bottles of water and a wet washcloth in hand. you prop the bottles on the nightstand closest to larissa and move between her legs to clean her up. she winces slightly, still sensitive, but you make it up to her with kisses on her thighs and hips. you drop the washcloth in the hamper, grabbing a shirt for her from your dresser. you lay down next to her, just watching her as she puts your shirt on and lays down facing you.

“you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. if not, i can walk you back to your hotel,” you say quietly.

“do you want me to go?” she asks at the same volume.

you shake your head against the pillow, “not at all. i’ll even buy you breakfast in the morning, anywhere you want.”

larissa looks at the clock, 3:36 looks back at her, “i think it’s going to be lunch by the time we wake up.”

“ever heard of a diner, gorgeous? they have breakfast all day. you can get…” you look in her eyes, pupils dilating for a moment, “crepes with berries and honey, and a hot chocolate with cinnamon on top whenever you please.”

she stares at you with wide eyes and mouth agape, “how the hell did you know that?”

you laugh, realizing you’d only told her you were an outcast and not what kind, “i’m a telepath, baby.”

she blinks a couple times, “you’ve been reading my mind the whole time?”

you grab her hand, playing with her fingers, “no, i choose when i want to listen in, took a while to figure it out though. i just wanted to know your favorite breakfast, so i just looked for that.”

she pulls you into her, laying on her back to have your weight on top of her, “you are utterly delightful.”

you prop your chin on her chest, “may i ask what kind of outcast you are?”

she takes a deep breath, this was always a dreaded question, but she found herself trusting you with her secrets. she exhales slowly, “i’m a shapeshifter.”

“that’s so cool, i know a couple shifters. parker’s a shifter, but he can only shift to this big ass dog. but not like a werewolf, it’s voluntary,” you say as you glide your fingers up her arm.

“explains the amount of energy he has,” she responds with a huffed laugh.

you giggle at her comment, “i would’ve guessed you were a siren, just from looking at you.”

she smiles, “why’s that?”

“because you’re fucking outrageously gorgeous, larissa. bewitching, truly,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you stretch across her to turn the light off before nuzzling into her. you fall asleep to her steady breathing and calm heartbeat, larissa’s arms wrapped securely around you.

—

you wake up in the morning with your face shoved in your pillow, a weight across your back. you crack an eye open, looking down to see a pale hand next to yours. memories of the night before flood your mind, lips growing into a smile. grabbing her hand, you bring it to your lips, gently kissing her fingers. lifting her arm just a tad, you turn and bury yourself in her chest, wrapping your arm around her as well. her arms wrap tighter around you, a yawn passing her lips. you kiss the skin against her neck closest to your lips, mumbling a morning, baby.

she hums in return, snuggling into you as she wakes up. you run your hands along her side, gently coaxing her into the waking world as you press soft kisses to her skin. finally moves by rolling over, trapping you below her, stealing a kiss from your lips. “good morning, lovely,” she whispers.

your peace is interrupted by your phone ringing from the nightstand. she reaches for your phone and and hands it to you, you kiss her hand in thanks. park nasty is calling appears on your screen, you mumble curses as you go to answer.

“what?” you ask.

“good morning sweetheart, it’s lovely to hear from you too,” parker says sarcastically into the phone.

“whatever, i’m putting you on speaker. behave yourself, larissa’s here,” you demand.

“oooo, is that the sexy blonde from last night?”

“yes, now behave yourself,” you repeat before pressing the speaker icon.

“hello miss larissa!” larissa says ‘hello’ back through a little laugh, “anyways, you aren’t going to fucking believe my night. please tell me you’re free for lunch, i’ll be a normal amount of gross i promise,” parker speaks quickly and excitedly into the phone.

you look at larissa as you speak, “well, we were going to go get breakfast- don’t even fucking start,” you can already hear him an snickering on the other line, “maybe you and i can do dinner or something?”

parker suppresses his giggles, “oh, please let me come to breakfast! i need to properly meet this larissa, i wanna hear all about last night’s desser-”

“parker, i will call abuela so fucking help me,” you threaten, and he knows you would.

“okay, okay! but please, let me join!” he drags out the last word, “larissa! please, tell this meanie i can come to breakfast. i’ll be good, scout’s honor.”

larissa chuckles, “yes, you should most definitely join us.”

“larissa please, he wasn’t a boy scout. abuela thought it was american propaganda,” you plead.

“too late! text me where you cuties are going, love you both. bye!” parker hangs up immediately, not allowing room for discussion.

“i’m going to need to stop by my hotel before breakfast, i have nothing to wear.”

you nod in agreement, “i’d offer you something of mine, but it doesn’t really seem to be your style.”

getting up from the bed, you extend your hand to her, “shower before we leave?”

she takes your hand, following you to your bathroom. you grab the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, lifting it up to expose her love-stained chest. she returned the favor, removing your own, as well as your own underwear. she pulls you in for a short kiss, just loving the intimacy of the moment. you both shower quickly, not wanting to leave parker waiting too long, but savor in the closeness and quiet

once you dry off, you hand her her dress from last night, then walk to your closet to pull out a light blue sweatshirt and a sweater. you place the crew neck next to her while you tread to your dresser. pulling cargo jeans out, you slide them on, and your t-shirt is quickly replaced by the thick black sweater. larissa never takes her eyes off of you, shamelessly watching you change, admiring her handiwork across your neck and chest. you catch her staring, and she’s quick to grab the sweatshirt, throwing it on as a means to hide for just a moment.

—

the drive to her hotel was nice, you spent the short journey asking random questions, some pointless and minor, some more thoughtful. favorite colors, worst fears, best birthday present, embarrassing childhood moments, you loved learning about her. you wished you could slow time, freeze and rewind the last fifteen hours over and over again.

she pulls you to her hotel room with your hands interlocked. you gladly watch her go through her outfits with a soft smile on your face, seeing how she pieces together what to wear in her mind. you want to read her, but you won’t unless she allows you to, and even then you’ll likely never ask.

“which do you think?” she holds up a white satin blouse and a white cotton one, and all you can do is blink.

“i think you look best in nothing,” she throws the satin shirt at you, “jeez, woman! i say…” you lean over her bag, spotting a pair of straight-legged black pants, “these, and keep my sweatshirt on. you look good in my clothes,” you smile. she only kissed you in response, before disrobing to get changed for the day as you text parker.

“i can’t be bothered with makeup today,” she grumbles as she laces up a pair of white boots.

you walk around to kneel down to tie the other shoe for her. “you don’t need it anyways,” you squeeze her thighs as you stand back up. “all set, gorgeous?” she nods, grabbing your hand.

—

larissa ends up applying mascara and tinted lip balm in the car while you head to the diner. parking across the street in the pharmacy lot, you jump out to open the door for her, bowing and extending your arm in jest. she smacks your arm playfully before wrapping her own around it.

sitting at table, your let you fingers dance along larissa’s thigh, both talking about random things while you wait for parker. neither of you noticed when he walked in until he slid into the and smacked his hands on the table. “good morning darling, meanie,” he nods to larissa and you respectively.

“so thirds went well i presume?” you say with a laugh.

he nods excitedly, “fourths and dessert too.”

you shake your head as the waiter puts menus down and asks what drinks you’d all like. latte, coffee, hot chocolate with cinnamon, you already knew. you stare at the menu while parker explains the beginning of the whole thing with max.

you turn to the breakfast page, pointing to the crepes for larissa. she smiles excitedly, mumbling to ask you if they have honey, “of course they do,” you say to her with a little smile.

“and so they had me like over the count- you’re not even listening. neither of you, i can’t believe this,” parker goes to smack you with his spoon when you bat him with the menu.

the waiter comes back, and takes your orders, taking a little to much care on larissa’s order. she pays him no mind, leaning on you while she orders, looking at you when you do. he seems to take the hint and quickly walks away, parker’s laugh taking place in his stead.

“doesn’t the fool know a basket of fruits when he sees one?” parker asks making larissa laugh, her hand flying to her mouth. her laugh makes you smile, eyes resting on her face.

“can i ask now?” parker asks, looking at you.

“three questions,” you say with a sigh.

“each?” he says with a sly smile.

“three total,” you say sternly making larissa chuckle again.

“where, how many times each, and are you u-hauling yet?”

your head smacks against the table before coming back up, “i hate you. my place, two and one, and watch your mouth.”

larissa’s head whips to you, eyes bulging out of her head. parker seems to put the pieces together first, because there’s a beat, then a crack of his laughter. he’s nearly struggling to breathe, then cries out when you kick him under the table. he resorts to holding back laughs, wiping tears from his eyes.

“had that much fun, huh?” he looks at larissa, his face turning red from laughter, “oh my god, larissa doesn’t get it. oh my god, please let me stay while you explain this.” you’re want to drown in your coffee cup, you have to explain this with parker across from you while in a public setting.

you duck your lips to her ear and whisper, “i told you that you tasted like heaven, didn’t i? brought me there with just the taste of you.”

you pullback and look at her face, her cheeks go fully red, eyes fluttering. parker is silent screaming at her reaction, you hold your head in your hands. you’re definitely snitching to abuela about his nosiness.

the waiter brings the food, crepes with berries and honey for larissa, eggs with toast and pan fries for you, and waffles with an absurd amount chocolate chips on top for parker. larissa immediately passes hot sauce to you, remembering your comment about loving tabasco sauce. you thank her with a smile, then glare at your friend when he does a little aaaawe.

“are you going to see max again?” larissa asks parker as he shoves half a waffle into his mouth.

he takes a sip of his coffee, “oh for sure. they’re too good not to, super sweet too. they would’ve come along but they had plans at their babcia’s place for lunch.”

you smile at him, “that’s awesome buddy.” you pick up a piece of cantaloupe from your fruit salad and pass it to him to take, he loves it while you loathe it. it just works.

he takes the melon from your fork, speaking while he chews, “what about you two? gonna keep up?”

you and larissa look at each other. you hadn’t even thought about it much, nothing past post-orgasm conversation. you want to say yes, but you don’t want to put pressure on her. she takes your hand under the table and speaks first, “definitely.”

you look at her, “yeah, vermont sounds pretty cool. i could spend some time there,” you turn to parker, “she teaches at nevermore.”

he perks up immediately, “you’re one of us?”

larissa smiles, “yes, i’m a shapeshifter. but i try to keep that a little quiet.”

parker’s grin is huge, dimples showing off, “totally get it. i’m a shifter too, people get a little freaked out by dogs that are five feet tall on all fours.”

larissa’s eyes widen as she looks at you, “you didn’t say he was five feet tall in that form.”

you shrug, “i told you he was a big ass dog.”

parker chuckles, “she was probably picturing a great dane, you moron,” he looks at larissa, “think the grim the harry potter, but lighter fur and better groomed.”

you laugh at his comparison, “sirius black was in prison for twelve years. did you want him to be all fresh and clean?”

larissa just laughs and watches in amusement as the two of you argue over the mauraders, her head on your shoulder, your arm around hers.

—

the rest of the time larissa is in the city, she’s with you. the next three days were spent touring around the city, going to shops and cafes, always ending in either your bed or her hotel’s, depending on which was closer. her departure time was steadily approaching, making you both a bit upset.

she lays her head on your chest, legs tangled with yours, sweat across both your bodies. you take the time to map her body with your fingers, needing to remember every inch of her. she was worth a six hour drive, hell she was worth a six century walk.

“what’s going on in your head?” she asks gently, “i can’t see into your mind, you know.”

you chuckle, kissing her forehead and hugging her close, “i’m just wondering how i can change my powers from telepathy to teleportation. would be so much easier.” she cuddles into you more, hugging you tight.

the next morning is slow, her alarm going off around six, even though she didn’t really need fo be up until seven. she just wanted more time with you. you spend part of your morning just holding each other, soft kisses holding promises. more kisses and hands between each others thighs in the shower, your name spelled on her clit with your tongue, her name falling from your lips as she brings you closer and closer.

you’re enjoying hot chocolate together in the lobby when her phone chimes, the nevermore car was only five minutes away. she looks at you with watery eyes, you bring your hands up to cup her face.

“it’s a six hour drive, whenever you want me there, i’ll be there. i know it’s harder for you to leave, i can organize and do meetings virtually time to time,” you kiss her cheek.

she shakes her head, “you’re job is too important, i can’t ask you to do that. that would just be selfish of me, they need you.”

“baby, i’m only working in person half the week with clients, the other half is all online. i’m a phone call away from any of them, you won’t be stealing me from anyone,” you assure her.

“you have to promise me you won’t sacrifice your job for me,” larissa demands.

you draw an x over your chest, “cross my heart. i’m not sacrificing my job, but i also don’t want to sacrifice you. i’m willing to make this work if you are.”

she kisses you hard, “i’m more than willing.”

you walk her to the car, putting her bags in for her. shooing away the driver, you open the door for her and guide her in. you lean your head into the car, “call me when you get home, okay?”

she holds the collar of your shirt to keep you close, “i’ll probably call you before i even get there.”

you smile and press a sweet kiss to her cheek, “please do, i’m gonna miss your voice.” you clear your throat, “i’ll see you soon, larissa.”

you start to back out of the car when she pulls your collar, pulling you into a long kiss, “better be soon.” she presses one last kiss to your lips before releasing your shirt, letting you back away and shut the door.

the car pulls off, and you watch until she’s gone from your sight. you make your way to your car, exhaling deeply before starting the engine and backing out of the lot.

you’re sitting on parker’s couch, legs draped across max’s lap while you both wait for parker to come back from the kitchen with snacks. community plays on the tv, one of the paintball wars playing quietly while the three of you were talking. your phone ringing breaks the silence, larissa <3 is calling.

“i gotta take this. i’ll be in parker’s room if you need me,” you say quickly to max and you scramble down the hallway.

you click the green answer button, “hey there, beautiful.”

you hear her laugh lightly, “i wanted to call you sooner, but there was horrible service. i’m almost to jericho now.”

“i’m glad you’re safe,” you say through a smile, giddy from her voice, “i’m at parker’s with max, i’m outnumbered here.”

larissa laughs again, making your heart swell, “i’m sorry, lovely. once you come to visit it’ll just be you and me, no being outnumbered or interrupted.”

“don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say, “fuck, is it embarrassing that i miss you already?”

“only if it’s embarrassing that i miss you quite a bit already as well,” she plays.

the bedroom door swings open, parker’s head popping in and pointing at the phone. the second you mouth larissa he grabs the phone and starts talking to her. you wrestle the phone out of his hand, shoving him out the door. “i’m telling abuela!” you yell down the hall, you can’t just hog your girlfriend is screamed back before bringing the phone back to your ear.

“sorry about that,” you say with a huff.

“it’s cute, the two of you fighting over me,” she jokes.

you laugh at her, “pray tell, who has won your affections?”

“park nasty,” larissa deadpans.

“oh my god, i’m hanging up,” you say as you don’t even move to do so.

“no, no, no, no, no. you win, of course you win,” she yells into the phone, “you win over everyone, i swear.”

“everyone? even sarah jessica parker?” you joke, referencing back to her confession of her childhood crush.

she laughs, “yes, even sarah jessica parker.”

banging in the door pulls you from the conversation, max and parker both beating on the door and calling fo you. gimme a second! is screamed at them.

“baby, i gotta go, homosexuals are beating down the door,” she laughs over the line, “let me know when you get to nevermore, okay?”

“i promise. and i’ll see you soon. goodbye, darling.

“bye, gorgeous. i’ll see you soon,” the line beeps as the call comes to an end.

feedback appreciated as always, love you a bushel and a peck <3

[littlefanficprincess]

Your scarred face

"Oneshot"

Pair: Tord/Red Leader x reader

Song: When will i see you again by Shakka

part 4

(A/n): I am running out of Tord gifs

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Footsteps could be heard throughout the hallway, as (Y/n) patrols the hallway. Her (e/c) eyes scan the surrounding area.

She had gotten more used to the life in the red army, even with her small incident a few days ago.

"There is no fucking way I'm gonna join that good for nothing idiot" An awfully familiar voice complains.

"Come on, think about it, we could get a lot of benefits by joining the red army" Another familiar voice argues.

(Y/n) stops in place and poke her head around the corner. She spots two figures, one had his back turned to her.

The one who didn't have his back turned, had brown spikey hair, blue button up with a black tie and a grey vest. He had a visor on his face, pixels presented on them representing eyes.

The other, who had his back turned. He had somewhat messy ginger (strawberry blond) hair, a purple sweater with a green overcoat over it.

"Matt, Tom? Is that you guys?" (Y/n) calls out, making them turn to you. It reveals that Matt had a metal chin.

"(Y/n)!" Matt exclaims, picking the girl from the ground and pulls her into bone crushing hug. "It feels like ages since we last saw you"

"Maybe you should let go of her, or she won't be breathing soon" Tom cuts in. Matt gives in and puts her back down on her fett. Tom's digital eyes go up and down, inspecting (Y/n)'s outfit.

"What are you guys doing here?" The (h/c)nette asks them, looking curiously at them.

"We could asks you the same. You're wearing a red army uniform, I take that you are a soldier here " Tom replies, motions to the outfit (Y/n) was wearing.

"Yeah, I joined a few weeks ago. You guys sure look do look different, are you also part of the army?" (Y/n) crosses her arms, looking at her two old friends.

"Not really, atleast not yet" Matt answers.

Tom rolls his digital eyes "Never. Commie asked us to join, no way I'm doing that"

"Commie? Isn't that what you called Tord, does that mean he is too"

At her statement, Matt and Tom look at eachother. Matt's blue eyes turn back to (Y/n) "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓

Meanwhile

┗━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┛

Tord grumbles under his breath as he stomps through the corridor, holding his arms behind his back. He couldn't believe that someone was accepted without his knowledge, especially someone who could possibly be his old friend.

He turns the corner, finding Tom and Matt. They were talking to a girl with (h/c) hair, which was tight in a ponytail.

(Ignore this if you have too short hair)

Tom and Matt notices him and their faces fall immediately. Confused, (Y/n) asks "Is something behind me?" She turns around to met a single silver eye.

There stands Tord, standing tall. There were many scars on the right side of his face, an eye patch covering his right eye. There was bandage covering his neck, he was wearing a red army uniform, but had a red hoodie instead of a sweater. His left hand was covered by a glove and his right was replaced by a red mechanic one.

On his blue coat was a name tag Red Leader.🤔In (Y/n)'s mind, everything clicks. The reason why she was immediately accepted, it was because she mentioned that they used to be friends."Hey, To–" Matt stops himself when he sees Tord glaring at him.

"(L/n), I want you in my office" He orders. He turns around, walking towards the infamous red door.

(Y/n) Looks back the other two, silently asking for help. After a call from Tord, she follow behind him. She feels nervousness rise up in her, her hands slightly shaking.

He leads her into his office. He takes a seat in his chair, motioning for the girl to sit on the one on the other side of the desk.

She does that, placing her hands on her lap. She looks up to meet his eye, trying her best not to break eye contact. It was so odd, a few years ago, they were super close. But now, it felt like he was a different person.

"So, (Y/n). How did you found about the Red Army?" Tord questions, pulling out a file and placing it on the table.

"I found a poster about it on a walk, quite a while ago"

"Hm...who had spoken to you when you called?"

(Y/n) places her index finger on her chin, trying to remember her name "I think her name was Senna Akuma. She interviewed me when I first arrived here, she seemed intrested when I said your name"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tord grumbles "Ofcourse she would do something like that. My final question is, how long have been part of the army?"

"Four weeks, I've been trained by general Marrison. I'd say she has been a great teacher so far" (Y/n) explains, fiddling with her thumbs.

"From now on, I will be taking over the training from general Marrison on the Thursday" Tord writes something on a nearby paper. He places the pen down and looks back to (Y/n).

"Wait, you're serious?" The girl says in surprise, her shoulders perk up in. Tord keeps stares at her, his face staying serious.

Before they could say anything, an alarm blares. Tord stands up, confused what is going on.

"The base is being attack!"

~~~~~~~

I'm sorry that I dissapeared for twee (and only posted a kungfu panda oneshot). On here I am a lot less open then on my other platforms. I am currently in my final year, so I am sometimes too busy to work on my stuff.

[marlynnofmany]

A Worthy Sacrifice

Going on a food run for this spaceship usually didn’t end up in a debate over whose body parts are more expendable. Never, as a matter of fact. Today was the first. And it could have easily been our last.

The trip had such a peaceful start, too. Along with the usual supplies that we paid real money for, Captain Sunlight sent a handful of us to pick up a local delicacy: some plant. I honestly missed the name. I was more interested in the location — inside a vast cave complex with shafts of light filtering in from above, and multiple lakes of poison to make the perfect growing environment. Or maybe they were acid lakes. At any rate, extremely dangerous, and completely at odds with the lovely sun-dappled scenery and brightly colored plantlife.

I stood with some trepidation at the edge of the cave maze, holding an empty bag and wondering if there was maybe an entrance somewhere big enough for a hoverbike. Beside me, the hulking forms of the Frillian twins were similarly hesitant. You can’t punch an acid lake, after all, or lift weights at it.

Down closer to ground level, Mur just looked annoyed. “It’s fine,” he said, flipping a blue-black tentacle forward. “The locals pick these plants daily.” His own bag was on a dinky little hoversled that followed him like a flying puppy, leash and all. The sled also held a couple pairs of pruning shears in case the stems gave us trouble. Mur could have ridden on the sled himself, pushing off the ground like a squid-shaped kid on a snow disk, but that would have been undignified. Strongarms are proud of that tentacle-walking, after all.

And apparently they’re not phased by giant lakes of acid.

“If you say so,” I told him. “Lead the way.”

He did, grumbling. I followed, taking care not to trip over the sled, while Blip and Blop stood tall and brought up the rear.

The entrance tunnel was small, alongside many others, and a few turned out to lead to the same big cavern. My first impression was warmth. I regretted wearing a sweater, thin and utilitarian though it was. I took it off as we walked, tying it around my waist, glad that I at least had my hair tied back in its usual long braid. I didn’t need any extra sweat about my neck today.

Once the sweater was secure, I was free to appreciate the scenery. It really was pretty. The walls were a wash of reds and golds, with multiple types of greenery sprouting from every level surface and a few that weren’t. The lake far below was an evil purple, fading to the innocent blue of tropical seas at the edges. A solid fence lined the cliff edge, which I appreciated.

The wall behind us was awash in climbing vines with dangling blueberry-looking things that sure would be convenient if they were the plants we were here for.

No such luck. Those were on the far side. Lots of them. A vast jungle of treelike things, most of which were bent under the weight of head-sized yellow fruit. As I watched, one particularly spindly trunk lost its biggest fruit to gravity, and sprung upwards to fling the smaller ones away in a comical fashion. I could almost hear the splats against the cave wall.

“Well, they sure look ripe,” I said.

Mur wasn’t interested. “Where’s the— Oh, there it is. We took the wrong door. C’mon.” He slapped away along the path beside that fence, over to where a single large hover platform waited like a ferry.

We were just getting on, with me trying to hide my misgivings and the Frillians doing the same, when a chorus of more slapping tentacle-steps approached at speed.

“Wait!” commanded the large reddish Strongarm in the lead, who was colored much like the cavern walls. She was also shaped more like an octopus than a squid, as was the green one behind her. The beige-gray one had a pointy squid head like Mur.

Mur waited. He’d already figured out the controls for the platform, and he stood there in silence while I clutched the railing with the Frillians, and the newcomers climbed on.

With nods all around, Mur pressed a button to close the gate. Then he removed the lid of the fancy pottery jar big enough for a child to hide inside — I’d assumed somebody had left it behind — and he scooped out a bunch of those blueberry things. As I watched in curiosity, he opened a different lid, this one over a part of the control console that stuck out, baring a dark tunnel like an ominous toilet bowl.

He threw the berries in. The platform’s engine started.

Mur steered us out over the deadly lake, engines humming happily, throwing clusters of berries in every so often. I exchanged looks with the Frillians. The other Strongarms didn’t look impressed.

“Are those fuel berries?” I asked.

“Only for this engine,” Mur said, tapping a sign. “It takes anything organic. Nice of the locals to make sure there’s always a full pot here. There is a note here to refill what we use if possible, and I think we definitely should, but I’m sure that not everyone does.”

The red Strongarm made a flapping noise that I recognized as the equivalent of a snort. Yeah, she probably wouldn’t stick around to do her part.

(And remember that bit about “anything organic”? If you recall how I started this little anecdote, this is where you’ll start to get concerned.)

There was only a moderate level of worry in the air at that point, though. We hadn’t fallen in yet and the rails seemed sturdy, if sparse, and the jungle was approaching at a reasonable pace. The slight breeze even made the temperature pleasant.

When Mur docked the platform headfirst and opened a gate on the other side, I was the first one off among the trees. Picking the yellow fruits turned out to be a great time, especially the way they kept accidentally flying through the air. They were about as heavy as cantaloupes, but with such rubbery outsides that it was like they were made for high-impact comedy. I did my best to pick each tree thoroughly, hanging onto the bent trunk with one hand before letting go. I’d started by taking a single fruit from each tree, but that had not worked.

Blip and Blop had the most efficient strategy: one held a bag and the other shook a tree like they were taking its lunch money. Mur just climbed the lowest trunks and plucked everything he found. One way or another, we filled our bags quickly and met back at the platform.

The strangers were a little slower, but again, we waited politely. Soon enough, we were on the way across the lake that lurked distantly below like malevolent grape jam.

I was just thinking that it had been a while since I’d had a proper PB&J when the trouble happened.

The Strongarms, standing on one side of the platform with their sacks of fruit, produced blasters and demanded ours.

(Yes, Strongarms keep things hidden among their tentacles. Yes, it’s just as gross as it sounds.)

Anyway, they must have taken our politeness and healthy fear of death for the signs of a bunch of pushovers, and wow they were wrong about that.

Blip and Blop swung their sacks of fruit in unison while I dove to one side and Mur took the other. You’d think we did this sort of thing all the time. In reality, there were only so many directions to go in a fenced-in battleground like this.

The would-be bandits were too busy dodging the sacks to aim their blasters properly, though they tried. One shot Blip’s bag of fruit, making her even more angry as yellow globes bounced everywhere. One nearly singed my ear, but didn’t get a second shot when I roundhouse kicked him in the squiddy head.

The other one, the leader, was wrestling Mur, and her shot went right through the center of the berry pot, shattering it and sending the platform’s fuel in every direction.

I mentioned that the railings weren’t exactly close together. And that these looked like blueberries: the little round things. My point is, they rolled. With great talent and speed. Right off the sides and down into that terrifying lake, leaving only a few behind.

“Look what you did!” Mur yelled, wrestling harder.

Blop made an undignified squeak of concern, then tried to find an angle he could help from. He ended up stepping firmly on a red tentacle and pinning the blaster to the floor.

His sister, meanwhile, was slamming an alien cantaloupe against the green guy, whose own weapon was stuck inside a different fruit, making its leisurely way down towards the lake.

The gray dude was out cold, which was a surprise to me. I guess Strongarms are easy to concuss, I thought as I made sure his blaster was safe on our side of the platform. I’d considered throwing it over the side as well, but figured we might want it to keep them in line once they woke up. I sure wasn’t planning on giving it back, though.

Crunch went the third blaster, Ow went the Strongarm holding it, and “Stay down, you arm-dragging limp grub!” went Mur. The red Strongarm stayed down.

So. We won the fight. But we only had a scattered few berries left to fuel the platform, and it had coasted to a stop in what looked to me like the exact stinkin’ center of this terrible, poisonous lake.

Blop looked worried. “Now what?” he asked Mur.

“These?” Blip suggested, holding a yellow fruit out toward the intake.

“No!” Mur shouted, startling everyone. He blocked her path. “Those break the engine. Didn’t you read the sign?”

I glanced at the defeated Strongarms. “I think only you read the sign,” I told him.

“Well, it’s very clear!” he exclaimed, waving dark tentacles like he wanted to tear out hair that he didn’t have. “Only other organics!”

Blip set the fruit down. “What do we have?” she asked, checking her pockets. “I’ve got two shrimp sticks and one of those seednuts that Paint likes.”

We all took stock, coming up with a whole lot of nothing. The unconscious Strongarms woke, and submitted to sitting in the corner with their leader, injured and embarrassed and also not in possession of any spare fuel.

“Let’s at least see how far the berries take us,” Mur said grimly, picking up the nearest.

We gathered all that we could find, and it took us a little way. Pocket snacks and whatnot took us a bit farther. We considered clothes (most were artificial), the fruit-carrying bags (same), and even treating the toilet-looking thing in appropriate but mortifying ways.

As we got increasingly desperate, we were still far from shore.

“Pretty sure this is real leather,” Mur said as he dropped in the leash for his tiny hoversled. “That will take us … not far enough.”

We were sort of close, kind of. Relatively speaking.

“The captain will come looking if we’re gone long enough,” Blop said.

“She doesn’t know which tunnel we took,” Mur reminded him. “Searching could take days.”

“Won’t the locals find us?” Blip asked.

The red Strongarm sneered. “They just finished a work cycle, and it’s a regular holiday. You think we’d try to rob you if they could come in at any moment?”

Both Frillians groaned.

Mur scowled. “Yes, very smart. See where that got you!” Moving slowly for added drama, he picked up a pair of shears from his sled. “Who wants to volunteer something organic?”

There were desperate pleas at that, and stonefaced silence from Mur that I hoped was acting.

“What about them?” the leader said, pointing wildly at the Frillians. “Surely they don’t need all those frills!”

Blip and Blop regarded her with identical shocked expressions. “Yes we do!”

“Well, we need our arms! You think that wouldn’t hurt to cut off?”

The yelling escalated while something very obvious occurred to me. I stepped over to Mur and flopped the braid over my shoulder. “Do you think this would be enough?”

The Strongarms shut up immediately. And they stayed silent while Mur calculated, so silent that I started to wonder.

They answered my question before I could ask it.

“You would volunteer that?” asked the red one quietly.

Ohhh, they think it’s a tentacle covered in hair, I realized. Have they not met a human before? Never mind; let’s see if Mur plays along.

“Yes,” I said solemnly, instead of going “Yeah” like I usually would. “If this is the only way to save all of us, then I will gladly make that sacrifice.” I looked over at Blip and Blop, who were elbowing each other but keeping mum. Good.

Mur ushered me toward the intake with all the grandeur of a high-society attendant. “If you would permit me to do the honors,” he said, “I will be quick.”

So I stood in front of the thing with my back to it so the wide-eyed bandits couldn’t see, told Mur to cut just below the hair tie, and held up my sweater ready to wrap it around my head like a bandage.

Yes, I did feel silly. But the bandits deserved a bit of shame and secondhand anguish. Besides, I’d been wanting to try a short haircut for ages, but never found the right time to chop it all off.

This is definitely the right time, I thought. “Go ahead.”

Mur snipped through the braid with one clean cut — hooray for sharp shears — and I collapsed with an anguished expression and some artful whimpers. Blip helped tie the sweater “bandage,” while Blop shielded us from view and stared down the Strongarms. I didn’t see Mur drop the braid into the intake, since my view was somewhat limited, but I felt the engine kick on with a most welcome hum.

I really hope that was enough, I thought as I lay there with my arms about my head. It’ll suck if we have to snip this down to a buzz cut. That’ll be hard to keep up the act through. And I really don’t want hair THAT short.

But when the engine finally went quiet, it was to a cheer from the Frillians. We were close enough to jump.

Or, more accurately, close enough for Blip to fling Mur across the gap with one of my socks to gather berries in. Mur was a terrible shot when he threw it back, but enough berries reached us that we were able to close the distance.

I pulled the blaster from my waistband and nudged it over the side before I forgot. It was too small for the Frillians to use anyway.

Plus, we didn’t need it. By the sound of her voice, the lead Strongarm had been so humbled by my sacrifice that she might have been considering a career change.

She even offered their collections of fruit, and the other two didn’t object.

Mur accepted graciously. I managed to turn my chuckling into pained noises as strong Frillian arms lifted me. I didn’t uncover my head to look. By the sounds of it, the many fruits were being balanced on Mur’s sled and the shoulders of whichever Frillian wasn’t carrying me.

“Farewell,” Mur said haughtily. “Make better choices in the future.”

We left the cavern to the sound of the ex-bandits promising to do so.

I have no idea if they’ll really go straight, but wouldn’t it be hilarious if they did?

Once we were out of sight, Blip put me down and took her share of the fruit bags. I claimed one too. I felt much lighter without the braid. And the threat of impending death.

I looked at my crewmates cheerfully. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Not without significant backup,” Mur agreed.

“Or more spare headfur!” Blop said.

“I’ve definitely spared enough for one day.” I freed a hand to pull out the hair tie, marveling at how simple a process it was now.

My crewmates all told me I looked incredibly strange with short hair about my face like that.

I told them to wait until I picked a final hairstyle, and I described hair gel to them.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[themadknightuniverse]

The Passenger (2023) : COLOR THEORY ANALYSIS

Check part 1 -> Composition, environments and parallels.

-

Five colors stands out : green, yellow, blue, red and purple.

-

Yellow/green

One color, or rather a pair of colors, that engulf the whole movie are green and yellow. These two can be pretty hard to discern once yellow is darkened a bit, since dark yellow is basically green, so I chose to kind of bring these two into a common point. We could say yellow alone may represent Benson though. Benson is wearing his fluffy dark yellow/greenish cardigan, and that goes along with his Chrysler and its sand color that we may qualify as yellow to some extend. We also get to see him with a predominant yellow wall behind him once.

Besides the artistic choice behind it, the overall color scheme bringing the movie together in terms of photography, both of these colors are a heavy presence that I found may actually mean something. Especially in contrast to the final climax scene. Green is in the tint of lights, on Benson and Randy outfits, and it follows them through their journey in the car with the landscape's colors. Benson also picks a green girafe to decorate (and considering how he customs it, how it all tells us so much about the nature of his trauma). Green may represent this state of stagnation in their lives, how haunted they are by their trauma(s). At the burger fastfood Randy and Benson stand in green lights. Green is also the color of the jacket Benson gives to Randy. This could be a metaphor about Randy being forced to see how drowned he is by his trauma, the same way his lean body swims in the green jacket, hides in it. And once he gets rid of it, it's only when he makes the move to act, to make a choice. He abandons it right before calling the police, and leaves it behind him in the restroom at the restaurant. He won't be stuck in it anymore. At the end we see Randy have kept Benson's jacket. Of course it means he doesn't want to put all that happened behind. Benson has been the only one around him capable to see him, the real him buried under all the self inflicted punishment, and to pull him out of his situation. But if we keep the symbolic in mind, it may also represent the fact that he's capable to live with his trauma now, he can leave it aside for a moment to enjoy life again, make his choices, and then carry it around with him, draped over his arm instead of disappearing under it. (This brings me so many feels, help)

Later, they go to the Animal Fun-Stuff Workshop, which is fully green, yellow with touches of red and blue, and a very few purple ones. The fact that the place Lisa work in is dedicated to children activities just echoes with the traumas Randy and Benson are carrying. Everything brings them back to childhood, and that choice is so brilliant. They stood out so much in this place. Both looking so different compared to the clean and vibrant colors.

The woman welcoming them at the school wears a full green outfit. If I stretch things a bit here again, it could symbolise how Randy feels, coming back here, seeing this woman who was probably already there when he was a kid, just another person reminding him of it all. And then, at miss Beard's house, when she receives the call from the school, she goes into her kitchen and learn about Benson's doing, where the lights are yellowish. Benson's color.

And last but not least, the color of the vice principal clothes. It's so close to the shade of Benson's cardigan. It tells us everything we need to know.

Blue

Blue is another color that follows us through the movie, making appearances in the form of colors touches rather than lights that bath the place. At first we see Randy waking up, still in the dark of his room, his grey shirt appearing blue. It's light, yes, so that's probably just a stretch from my mind. In this scene, adult Randy is presented to us in a greenish room, little red details around him.

Then we get to see Randy's car, who's a light blue, with a very thin red line running along the sides of it (this detail may have its importance when we'll get to that color).

When Randy is at the fastfood restaurant, he's not wearing any blue, but blue elements are placed around him, somehow linking it to him. We can spot those blue spots during the morning “motivational” speech from the manager, when he speaks to the Manager in his office, and the head of the spray bottle he uses to clean things. Later, Randy will be wearing a grey Motorhead t-shirt, with a blue and red logo on it. He also chose to pick a blue crocodile to custom at the plushies store. At this point, I believe blue could represent Randy. Plus, in the final scene, we see him with a blue shirt and omg look at our babyboy, he's wearing his own color like he found himself again ಥ_ಥ

I like how the blue's presence can hold meaning sometimes. Like when they sit at the plushies store, and Benson is sitting in front of a blue wall, it kind of feels like by the presence of that blue Benson is retreating literally and figuratively from the moment, leaving it to be Randy's moment. Plus, the moment he goes by their table to interrupt, the yellow is bright and takes a lot of the background space behind him. He's back in charge. Green being the color separating both of their colors on the walls is making me a bit weak. Like, they are meeting and mix a part of themselves together, lines blur, and the result is green. The color of stagnation in life and struggle and being haunted. Their common ground. Like, oof, right in the feels, man.

Red

When we see red, it's hard not to think about blood. And there is quite a lot of blood in this movie. So, yes. But it's also one of the colors we get to see in the decor, always so noticeable. Quite vibrant. To me it could represent the trauma(s) itself. The few elements in Randy's room. The line along the side of his car. Little red notes of objects in Benson's car. So much red inside Benson's home. The objects in the plushies store. The red on the facade of the elementary school, along with blue, which to me screams RANDY and TRAUMA. And the vice principal's car a cherry red color that stands out.

Purple

This. Color.

Damn do I love how it's used.

Well first, I'll speak about miss Beard. As explained earlier, she's the embodiment of recovery and hope. To me this color is so heavy with symbolism in the way it's used. I see change, healing, facing and taming trauma, and why not a return to reality. So miss Beard is wearing a complete purple outfit, so of course it's a choice. It makes her stands out in such a nice, soft and meaningful way. Even her flip phone is purple. The very cell phone Randy will use to call the cops. I mean... CHANGE. HEALING. And I love it. I love it. I love it. And little note on her necklace, the tiny blue flower, I have a hard time not assimilating it to Randy. And UH it breaks my heart a bit. In this warm and peaceful setting, Randy faces his trauma and the consequences of it. It's a stark contrast in intensity of the scene at the restaurant.

And of course we have the final climax scene. Literally bathed in purple light. So saturated and intense. Change will happen here. And sure enough, change occurs. Randy decides to make a choice. He confronts Benson. He tries, really tries to open Benson's eyes too. And we know by now that Benson's trauma is something still tearing him apart. The color intensity feels just as raw as Benson's inner turmoil. It's suffocating.

When Randy stands up and faces Benson, he's fully in the purple lights. While Benson is standing with purple on one side, and green on the other. He's struggling so hard. He's blinded yet he's forced to face the reality of what he did. There is no more pretending that he knows what he's doing, that all this will lead somewhere. He's trapped. He will never step out of this realization, of this purple light, alive.

Last tiny point, the person sitting in the restaurant the first time Benson and Randy goes there, wearing purple, along with the neon light circling the roof, like a sign of the scene to come at the end of day. And let's not forget Marsha with her purple work uniform, who will play an important role in the climax scene.

And this is it! If you've read all of this, well first, thank you! And I hope you enjoyed all this rambling :)

Check part 1 -> Composition, environments and parallels.

[aalinaaaaaa]

ROYGBIV Tag

Thanks to @space-writes for the tag!

Premise: Search your story for the colours of the rainbow and post the excerpts :D

Scarlet (red)

In this mingling of antlers, wings and colour, Eshani stood out in her subtlety. Her scarlet dress reached her calves, the bottom part swaying with the breeze. If not for her lush cascade of blonde hair, the mark of her identity would be exposed by a slight cut in the back of her dress, a status which meant nothing yet everything here.

Orange

“So it’s true then? What the stories say happens when the time runs out?” She pushed him, her green eyes prickling and narrowed. “I don’t know, but I’ve no intention of finding out.” Past winding lanes and forest paths, the pair continued further, stopping at a small clearing. The stone ground reminded Eshani of a sunset, pink-orange bricks split by white stones at various intervals, leading to the grand centrepiece that was the Majkra Ljkoren.

Yellow

In a smooth motion he had a dagger to her throat, a breath away from drawing blood. “I’ll give you a different type of freedom if you don’t stop.” She looked straight into his dark eyes, her eyes wavering. “A pity.” Her hand drifted downwards, lingering for a second on his chest. “You seem like a fine man.” Petrius grabbed her arm and shoved her into the nearest reveller, one of her own ilk it seemed. He slipped through the crowd, thankful that Claudia had not been among those to witness that lady’s audacity. Maybe he should’ve drawn blood, it would suit her better than her putrid yellow complexion.

Green

“Eshani Faison,” His voice took a harsher tone, yet wavered. “You have easily got to be the most impulsive, reckless, self-sacrificial person that I have ever met. You are stubborn beyond words, your interference infuriates me, I-“ “Cerigo…” She rose to her full height, eyes narrowed and flaring green in the shadow of the moonlight she blocked. He stood adamant, craning his head all the way up to meet her vibrant glare, the next words making her gasp.

Blue

She rammed the gems on one of his rings into his index finger, digging into his skin. “Stop that.” Her captor swung his other hand around, large fingers aimed for her hands. Chomp. The padding of his fingers, though softer, tasted of flesh and lavender soap. She pressed down hard into him, fearing her teeth would shatter. A drop was all she needed. He screamed. She traced two sharp fingers over the gash, turning it black, and blue and putrid.

Indigo, Violet, Purple

“Who are you?” One of them asked, placing a hand near the Chalice gleaming on the table. “Without getting into semantics,” She sauntered over to the acolyte — her acolyte — placing her left hand on his shoulder and her other hand to his throat. “I’m the lady who will decide this acolyte’s fate right here and now.” “We don’t deal with trespassers.” The same man said, while the other purple-robed man wrote a note and sent it through a gap in the ceiling. “Let him go, or there will be consequences.” The acolyte’s throat moved beneath her hand, the heat boiling from his skin.

—

Sending tags to @kaylinalexanderbooks @druidx @noblebs @frostedlemonwriter @motifenjoyer @thepeculiarbird and open tag!

Obsidian Sapphires, Soulswapped + General taglist (ask, comment, message me to be added/subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @did-i-do-this-write @threeking @seastarblue @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @outpost51

[taomyou]

a sip of sunshine - chapter one (A)

!! minors dni !! pairing: levi ackerman/reader word count: 22,458 sypnosis: Life is not easy, and Levi’s made peace with the fact that it never will be. And, yet, as the days pass and he comes to enjoy the company of the baker across town, he learns that the sun will always continue to shine, no matter how unworthy he feels to bask in its warmth. - or, Levi learns to be okay with drinking shitty tea. tags: postcanon, canon universe, birthday, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, found family, survivor guilt, eventual romance, eventual smut, character study, grumpy/sunshine, hurt/comfort, bakery, tea, meet-cute, no y/n, pov levi ackerman, not beta read a/n: no smut in this chapter, will be in chapter two. also sorry this took a while to crosspost www. this chapter is also being broken up into two parts because it exceeds the text limit, this is the FIRST half (,,>﹏<,,) accompanying playlist || ao3

chapter one: white peony beauty, bashfulness | shame, apology

Though Levi never imagined ever making it past 20, nevermind past 30…

If Levi ever had dreams of what his life would be like when he’d turn 40, he certainly never would’ve imagined this.

This where his days are occupied by nothing.

All his life, he’s had to fight for more—for more resources, for more time, for more freedom. Between fiending for food and fighting to keep himself from crumbling, never was there time to even think about nothing.

And, now, with the War finally laid to rest alongside his fallen comrades, Levi finally has the time to do what meaningless things he couldn’t during his time as his mother’s son and Kenny’s mentee and the Underground’s most notorious thug and Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

For the first time in his life, he’s free.

And because he doesn’t know how to be that, he does nothing.

But that’s fine with him. He’s hardly concerned with the fact that he’s as boring as he always was, and there’s plenty of other parts of this life that hardly make any sense to him.

This where the weather—the sky—is equally as tranquil as the morning birdsong.

He tips his head back to gaze at the sun above often, but he seldom ever finds the clouds he expects to be blocking it.

Instead, he’s met with a sky so painfully big and bright and blue, he fears he may tear up if he looks too long.

Yet, all he does is stare.

The breeze is never still, nor is it harsh, and the air is never as disgustingly muggy as he grew to believe it always was. He’d breathed fresh air when he first came to the Surface, but that feeling doesn’t hold a candle to the now crisp, everchilling wind that clears his sinuses and blows his hair in every which direction whenever he steps outside of the quaint farmhouse he now resides in. There's a weathervane perched atop his roof in the shape of a horse that points him in the direction of the stars, and Levi'd painted it black to match the stallion he'd trusted with his life so long ago.

Though, even if he has come to enjoy the presence of birds as they fly overhead to the south, he’ll never truly get over the stains their shit leaves on his outdoor tables and chairs.

Fucking bastards.

This where the sea meets that same sky he once dreamed of seeing.

Scarcely ever does he ever go to the ocean to view the sky from the sand, but in the rare moments that Mikasa requests his presence at the shore, Levi lets himself get lost in the way the clear blue fades to red and orange and purple and pink as the hours pass. The colors bleed into themselves, yet Levi can still discern where they start and end. Even with only one fully functional eye, he can see the pigmented stains in the sunset.

Sometimes, he’ll see green, but that might just be because Mikasa speaks castles about the emeralds she finds in her memories of Eren’s eyes.

They’d always reminded him of Isabel’s, though, so maybe it’s her that he sees when the sun falls in the west.

Where the sea meets the sky, the waves brush up white water, leaving salt marks on the treads of his wheelchair, and while Mikasa holds her scarf to her eyes as she weeps, Levi wishes he had more time to dream with his friends of what life would be like along this very shoreline. Whether or not they’d enjoy the crisp salt air, he has no idea, but he has no doubt that they would’ve spent all their free time watching this very horizon, waiting for the night to find excuse to take themselves to the bar and drink their hearts away.

He supposes that’s why he refuses to come to the sea alone.

Mikasa shoulders his grief, just as he shoulders hers.

This where carrots and cabbages and all other crops are growing just outside his house, and are brought to life with his own hands and those of his loved ones.

When he’d first moved in, he refused to tend to the plants already there. He was exhausted enough after hauling all of his shit in (which, admittedly, wasn’t much to begin with, but you try to move furniture in a new house with fresh wounds), and he’d be lying if he said he craved responsibility after all his years of leading soldiers to their deaths in the Corps.

But as time went on and Levi realized his hands weren’t as marred by blood as he thought they were, he opened up to the idea, and, one day, he found himself simply accustomed to watering sprouting stalks, taking note of the seasons, and planning his meals around what he could harvest from the earth in his backyard.

It’s hardly easy, mostly because he can barely stand to be hunched over the garden for longer than a few short hours at a time, but he holds himself to it. He hasn’t been as strict with upkeep lately, as it’s hardly worth the effort to keep the plants from browning in the winter, but he already knows what he’s going to plant in the new year.

In particular, Springer forces Levi to keep at it, constantly threatening to buy out the extra farmland from him. Levi knows that piece of shit isn’t rich enough to even own his own property, much less buy out this farm, but it’s motivation enough to know that the soldier-turned-ambassador will risk his safety to push Levi to be consistent in his farming duties.

Gabi and Falco help, too. Those kids are over at his house during practically all hours of the day, fussing about and asking Levi to regale what parts of his life he’s found joy in while they help carry buckets of mulch and water.

He’s grateful that they don’t ask about anything else, but the fact remains that they fucking suck at making marks in the soil, so don’t get it twisted and say that he’s gone soft.

He takes care of this garden because he has to, not because he feels any personal desire to do so.

Besides, Onyankopon took fucking forever to build up all the furrows a bit above ground level to allow Levi the ease of not having to fully squat to reach the earth. Levi refuses to let that labor go to waste and leave the heightened dirt barren.

This where he can lay in a bed that’s always comfortable and clean, never sullied by the sinking weight of the grief he carries with him in the daytime.

Sleep doesn't come any easier now than it did before. When he can’t get his mind to rest easily (which is more often than he’d care to admit), he sits in the chair at the corner of his bedroom with his eyes closed, burdening the wood with the weight of his blood-soaked soul. His mind runs wild in the nighttime nearly every day, replaying memories he only wishes to remember in memoriam of those he’s lost, but Levi refuses to lay between his sheets until he knows he will not dirty them with his sorrow.

He’d already ruined the dirty cot he had as a child with the grief of his mother and her work, the bed he had occupied during his time as a hardened criminal with the blood of his adversaries, the bed he was given in the Corps with the guilt of not being able to protect those he loved. This bed, the one with white sheets and the smell of lavender sprigs, Levi decides, will not be laid in unless he’s sure he won’t ruin it with his memories.

To everyone else, it’s foolish, but after all is said and done, he knows his bed will be there, and though he seldom gets to sleep in it, that is enough for him.

To have a bed, unmarred by the parts of his soul he wishes to save for his conscious self.

This where his tea is always warm, always the same.

Prior to this life, he never thought he’d be afforded the luxury of having something familiar. War changed far too much for a man like him, burdened with the heartache of the world, and to think that he has hot water, the same tea leaves he’d enjoyed in Paradis, and a kitchen where he can sit and watch the steam spill out of a ceramic teapot he’d brought with him from across the sea.

It’s more than enough.

And perhaps it's because, apart from his own memories and the scars that follow, he’s lost everything else reminiscent of his life before all this.

He never dare venture into new blends, new ingredients, new anything—his tea has, and will always, remain the same, because the fear of letting go of the one thing that’s stayed the same is far too great for him to part ways with the mundane routine.

Besides, there’s no guarantee that he’d be able to have another cup of tea to begin with, so he’s better off sticking to what works. All else has changed—why steer from that and disrupt the harmony of what remains of himself?

And, right now, this where he’s forced to take a seat at his dining table during high noon, and Gabi and Falco put two boxes in front of him. On the left, one that’s smaller and wrapped in golden paper, and on the right, a plain, white box that’s about the size of his head, and held together with slotted pieces.

It’s probably housing some sort of baked good—Braus used to sneak back boxes like this when they’d all first arrived in Marley.

All this isn’t to say that Levi is ungrateful in the slightest. The routine, the sky, the sea, the garden, the bed, the tea—all of it, is finally his. He never would’ve imagined they’d one day belong to him, but he’s here now, and this is his life, even if all these things don’t feel like they’re his.

It’s just that he never would’ve imagined that he’d be here, especially as he’s faced with the daunting sight of two children, now taller standing than he is sitting down, looking to him and waiting for him to open… whatever it is that they’ve brought him.

“What are these for?”

“They’re your birthday presents!” Gabi exclaims, a bright smile on her face. The slight movement of her hair as she speaks makes a flower fall from where it’s tucked behind her ear, and Falco rushes to pick it up from the floor and put it back in its place.

After a bit more shuffling, the boy then clears his throat and looks toward Levi, a nervous smile on his face. “We hope you like them. Happy birthday, Levi.”

Levi hasn’t celebrated anything, never mind his birthday, in years. He didn’t even realize it was today himself.

How they even know his birthday, he has no idea, but he supposes that word gets around when you’re Humanity’s Strongest.

More likely, before he’d set sail to tend to his ambassador duties, Arlert found his date of birth during the latest file restoration, and told these two to get Levi something.

Good call on his part. If he’d sent anyone else, Levi’d be quick to turn them away and tell them to spend their money on better things than him.

Not that he doesn’t still think that, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell Gabi and Falco that he doesn’t need anything for his birthday, much-less that he wants to celebrate it in the first place. 

He isn’t even sure if he can unwrap these presents on his own—trying to peel away the clear tape that gleams underneath the kitchen light doesn’t exactly sound easy or pleasant, especially considering the fact he’s never tried doing anything like this since losing his right pointer and middle fingers. Hange used to wrap his birthday presents with the strongest industrial tape they could find, and even when he’d had full use of both his hands, he could barely pry the tape off those fucking things.

For a brief second, Levi imagines that if they were still alive, they’d have jumped at the chance to do this for him. To unwrap his presents for him and force him to celebrate his birthday, just like they and Erwin used to before any of the three of them even knew there was a land across the sea. Maybe they’d even joke that they’d be his replacement digits, or try to design something to be that for him, and Erwin would scold them for forcing their ideas onto Levi.

He misses them both a lot.

Levi curtly nods at the offerings on the table, and at the children’s continued and insistent encouragement, he caves and reaches for the first present.

Picking up the smaller wrapped present on the left, from the shape alone, he knows that he’s been gifted a canister of the black tea he buys at the market on the other end of town. It feels exactly the same in his hand wrapped as it does when he holds it barren in his kitchen, and he can feel the faint impress of the metal engraving through the wrapping paper. He brings up the gift to his ear, gently shakes it, and his suspicions are confirmed when he hears the faint rustling of loose tea leaves, a sound more familiar to him than the creak of the wooden floorboard in front of his bedroom that he refuses to fix.

An appropriate gift. He’s nearly out of his current stock of the tea, and with the current winter wind, he’s been too sluggish to get himself all the way to the market across town.

His fingers trace along the edges of the wrapping paper for where it’s folded over top itself, but as he searches for the seam to start trying to pick at it with his fingernails, against the skin of his left wrist, he feels a small ribbon. Holding the box up above his head, he sees that it hangs from the bottom of the gift and seemingly comes from within the wrapping itself.

How odd.

“What’s this?”

“You have to open it! We can’t tell you!”

“Not the gift. This ribbon.”

“Oh! The lady who wrapped it for us told us that it’s so the person opening it doesn’t have to struggle with the paper. She said to pull on the ribbon to open it.”

“Where did you find someone to gift-wrap these for you?”

“Uh,” Gabi looks to Falco, who shakes his head for her not to tell. “She just saw us struggling to wrap it, and she helped us.”

Levi’s best guess is that saying who she is would give away some part of the gifts they’ve brought back for him.

Levi hums as he tugs on the white ribbon gently, holding the canister with his left hand and pulling with his right thumb and ring finger, and the paper comes undone quickly, the ribbon tearing through.

Huh. That was surprisingly easy.

It looks that the ribbon had been attached to the canister itself, and pulling on it brought apart the paper which kept the gift hidden.

He sets aside the wrapping paper and ribbon, both of which are in one piece and will save him the trouble of having to clean up the half-town pieces of tape he expected to collect in his hand, and stares down at the tea canister. He turns it to see that it is, in fact, the black tea he always gets, and there’s a slight tug at his lips at the sentiment that the children take enough note of his tastes to make sure they’d gotten the right blend.

“Thank you, kids.”

They’re hardly kids anymore, both of them fifteen years of age, but he can’t help but see them as the young children he’d met when he’d first reached this land.

They grow up too fast.

“Now the other one!”

Levi carefully sets down the canister, and with his both his hands, he reaches for the other gift they’ve brought him.

Instead of picking it up, he simply slides the box closer to himself. Just as when he ran his fingers over the wrapper canister to find where he could start unpeeling the tape, he feels a ribbon just barely peeking out from the backside of the box. He pulls at it, and as it comes away from the box and takes away torn tape with it, Levi internally thanks whoever it was that packaged this all up.

Gabi rushes to take away the trash in Levi’s hands and from the table, rushing off to put it in the bin underneath Levi’s kitchen sink. She comes running back, holding the flower in her hair in place as she hurriedly takes her seat again, and she motions towards the box again.

Even with his eyes downturned, Levi can feel the excitement radiating off the children, so he smiles to himself as he pulls the top compartment of the box halfway-open, revealing an ornately decorated cake. In curly piped frosting, reads Happy Birthday, and all around the border is a ring of cream that smells of lemon and faint notes of mint.

What odd flavors for winter.

He pulls up the top compartment all the way so he can take out the cake, but before he can take his hands away from the cardboard to start trying to get the cake out, he sees a small pink ticket attached to its underside.

He squints to try and read the words printed on it—Good for one free item! In the bottom right corner is a small logo, picturing a bow, as well as some other lettering that’s too small for him to read.

“So, what do you think?”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“With the cake…? You eat it,” Falco politely clarifies.

“No, I know what a cake is,” Levi says gently, trying to take out the ticket from the board. He struggles a bit, his nails too short to pull at the tape initially, but he manages to pull it away and holds it in front of himself, reading the words again—Good for one free item! The print he couldn’t read earlier lists the exact address of this bakery. Looking at the logo again, he recognizes it as belonging to the corner shop he crosses to get to the market where he buys his tea. “What’s this?”

“The lady working at the bakery said it was an extra treat for you! We wanted to get you a tea-flavored cake, but she said she ran out for the day by the time we got there, and gave us a ticket to make up for it!”

“Is she the same person who wrapped the tea for you too?”

They both nod.

Levi sighs.

Whoever this woman is must be either too kind for her own good or too stupid for the same purpose. In the first place, a local bakery definitely isn’t well-off enough to be giving away free inventory to people who aren’t regulars to begin with.

Levi puts the ticket into the pocket of his pants, and he tells himself that he’ll stop by to return this to the bakery later today. He has nothing better to do today, as he doesn’t have to water the plants with the expected night rain, so he might as well just make sure that whoever it is that’s foolish enough to give away free shit knows that he won’t be taking advantage of that.

He supposes that today is the day he finally ventures back to the hustle and bustle of the city. It was about time, anyway, so he’s glad he has a reason to now.

It’d be worth it to give thanks for how she’d wrapped his presents, too.

Gabi and Falco both get up from their chairs to go over to his side of the dining table and help him take out the cake from the box, taking more hands than Levi originally thought necessary, and Levi excuses himself to grab cutlery and plates.

As he opens the cupboard to fetch just that, he can hear the two children fussing about, trying to get the cake placed in the dead center of the table, arguing over where the first cut should be made, untying limbs after they help straighten each other’s shirt collars, shouting to tell Levi he needs to start thinking of an extraordinary birthday wish to make up for all the birthdays he hasn’t celebrated.

It’s heartwarming—that they can finally occupy themselves with things other than the perils of war. That they find not only the sea, the sky, and the earth beautiful, but themselves as well.

Levi wishes he could be the same.

The dinnerware and serving utensils he needs in his lap, Levi wheels back to the table, and with the help of the two who’d so graciously brought him this cake, the three cut themselves neat slices of cake. Even though they’d forgotten to bring candles with them for Levi to blow out, they push him to ask for that wish they’d asked him to come up with just minutes prior, and even though Levi doesn’t think the universe is that forgiving, he begrudgingly tells the children that he did.

It’s almost as begrudging as the way he lifts the half-spoonful of cake that he brings up to his lips.

Earnestly, Levi doesn’t have many sweets to begin with. He enjoys candy well enough, especially lollipops, but he himself doesn’t care to learn how to bake or ever make use of the honey that’s been collecting dust at the back of his spice cabinet. He prefers the milder flavors that he knows are safe, that he can’t fuck up.

Which is why it surprises him that he enjoys this cake so much, even with the taste of sentimentality that he knew would be carried along with the spoon.

The taste of lemon is surprisingly faint, only made prominent by the smell of the cake itself, and it doesn’t eat at his taste buds in the way that harsh citrus usually does. Hardly ever does Levi get the chance to taste vanilla, as it’s far too expensive for him to excuse as being a reasonable purchase, but its presence here is welcome as the sweet cream dissolves in his mouth. The mint, which he’d expected to taste like his toothpaste, leaves only a small twinkle dancing on the tip of his tongue.

Yet another reason to go to that bakery—to give his compliments to the baker, whomever they may be.

Though he wouldn’t dare dream of taking advantage of the ticket, maybe he’ll look around, see if there’s anything he’d like to treat himself to. Seldom ever does he have the will to do such, but whatever magic touch this baker has… Levi has to at least try something else of theirs.

With summer having long since passed in the year, it’s been a while since he’d felt so… refreshed, even if just by taking a single bite of this cake. So eager to take another bite, to feel the soft cushion of sponge cake against the roof of his mouth.

Gabi and Falco are both quick to continue digging into their pieces, eating quietly as to not disrupt the quiet that Levi typically prefers during mealtime, so they don’t take notice, but Levi sits with the spoon in his mouth for a long while, waiting for the flavors in his mouth to stop prompting joy in his heart.

They don’t, and Levi only has himself to force open his mouth and pick up another morsel of the dessert.

After everyone finishes their helping of cake and Levi listens to Gabi and Falco regale their past days spent together, both his stomach and his heart are full, and he sends them home with their own pieces of cake to bring back for their other loved ones, as Levi knows that he wouldn’t be able to finish it all on his own anyway. They’re reluctant to go, not wanting to leave Levi by himself on his birthday, but after he insists that they’ve done more than enough for him by spending the sunniest parts of the day with him (and that he’s too old to be taking up their youth), they’re happy as can be, and the two skip off to go bother whomever else their hearts desire.

With his house now empty apart from himself, he goes looking for his winter coat, preparing himself for the decently long trek over to the bakery to return the ticket. It doesn’t take long for him to find it and get it onto his frame, and after taking a pair of fingerless gloves hanging from the wall near the door, he’s ready to go. He checks that he still has that ticket in his pants pocket, and when he feels the rough texture of the fibers, he knows it’s there.

As Levi wheels himself down from the elevated foundation his house sits on top of, he looks upwards towards the sky, and when it’s as beautiful as he’s come to accept he’ll never be able to fathom, he wonders if his birthday wish could be granted. 

Was it a waste to wish for something as impossible as peace? To yearn for something he’s never known, even in his dreams? To ask for a life that’s more beautiful than what he can see with his own eyes?

It’s been so long since he’d had to even consider the mere notion of an act like that—perhaps dating back to when his mother would sneak rolls of bread for him and tell him to wish on the singular red-hot coal she’d stolen from the brothel’s kitchenette. Even when he did celebrate his birthday in his years with Furlan and Isabel, and later in his years with Hange and Erwin, he’d never been pressed to want more than what was there.

Maybe he’ll figure it all out someday.

Maybe he’ll suddenly come to know, and, at that point, he’ll only have to reflect to see the beauty that’s become of his life.

Maybe he won’t, and that’d be okay too. It’s not like he knows anything but what he’s lived through, thus far.

But, right now, that’s not what’s important.

What’s important is that he finds this bakery, and he returns this ticket to the woman who was so kind as to wrap his things with ribbon, even if she didn’t do it for him intentionally.

Maybe, then, he’ll have the headspace to know if dreams, just like his to see the clear sky, can come true.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

By the time Levi reaches this bakery at the corner, the sun has fallen halfway to the horizon, and he can only barely see it above the tallest building in this part of the city. He’d have gotten here much faster if he’d asked someone for a ride by car, but he didn’t think it necessary with how unimportant this errand actually is.

But, because he has truly nothing else of importance he needs to attend to, this is what’s most important to him right now.

No matter, because he’s here already, and though he’d thought the complete opposite would be true, this place is… quite quiet.

Perhaps it’s the weather, or perhaps it’s the time of day, but there’s hardly anyone here, as Levi can only see a handful of people through the large, barely-fogged out glass windows. With how good just that single piece of cake was, Levi had thought it’d be packed.

On the contrary, there’s no line, no hurry, no rush.

When Levi’d been more young and naïve and stupid, he had dreams of opening a tea shop. Something just like this, with huge windows and enough sunlight to read the morning paper from a register that’s spilling over with receipts and drink orders. Even though he’s impartial to people themselves, he’d imagine that, if he had the chance to be anything but who he’s been at every stage of his life, he’d be talented enough with his craft that there’d always be a line out the door, an abundance of people to appreciate what he’d have to offer them.

Maybe that’s why his heart drops, seeing how empty this place looks.

The door stays propped open with a large potted plant, unusually healthy and green for such cold weather, so Levi doesn’t have to fuss around with finding a way to get inside with his wheelchair. He gets inside easily enough, only just barely struggling not to crash into the plant or get any of its leaves caught on the wheels. Now, without the faint fog to cover its interior, he sees all sorts of plants and decorative teaware lined up on a shelf perched against the side wall of the bakery, definitively marking the space as some sort of garden.

No one pays any mind to Levi as he looks around, them all occupied by their own objects of affection, and Levi finds himself going over to a large display case, near empty and only filled with a few stray pastries, of which they all look appetizing and worthy of the money he’d brought along with him in case he’d wanted to buy anything to bring home.

He decides that he’ll get everything that’s left, as he feels compelled to support a business such as this, so undeserving of its low-traffic patronage. It’s only a handful of things; he knows he has enough to afford them all.

At the back wall, he sees that there’s some sort of drinks menu, but that hardly is of any importance to Levi, so he ignores any of its writing and downturns his eyes, going back to imagining how to make use of all the sweets he’s about to bring home with him.

The ship is returning tomorrow. Maybe he can round up those brats he used to call his soldiers, and they can run their mouths about whatever political business they’ve found themselves entangled in (or, more likely, about whatever memories return to them upon visiting the island they’d once called home).

He gently lifts himself up from his wheelchair, trying to peer over to where the front display meets the back kitchen, when he catches sight of a flash of pale yellow, rushing between what seems to be opposite sides of a room he isn’t in. Whoever it is, they turn back and look from over the door frame, and Levi finds himself locking eyes with the stranger, her own eyes blinking in surprise in reaction to his steeled gaze.

She then rushes off to put something down, and she emerges from the back room, a bright smile on her face as she waves at him, meeting him from through the display case.

She’s wearing a pale yellow apron over a plain, long-sleeve white dress, her hair tied away from her face with a ribbon that’s the same shade of white as what’d been used to wrap the gifts the kids had brought him, only hers is thicker and seemingly made of a satin material. 

She looks to be about his age, if not only a few years younger, her smile lines and the faint crow’s feet at her eyes being the only signs of aging and a life well-lived. They add a lot of character to her face—her features show love, romance, in a way that’d ordinarily only be made visible through the soul.

Still, her youth is undeniable. Her mannerisms are endearing in the same manner that the sun is bright—unfathomable, unrelenting, without shame.

She’s… beautiful.

Definitively so, with the slight tilt of her head as she greets him, taking his breath away in tandem with his sanity.

“Hello, sir! What can I get for you today?”

Peeling his eyes away from her, he clears his throat, feeling an unusual pause for a second before regaining his composure. “Could I have everything in the display case?”

Her eyes widen, and she blinks. “Are you sure?”

He nods.

“Really?”

He nods again.

She smiles once more, the shine overwhelming even through the frosted glass which separates them, and she crouches down to gather a box, similar to the one that’d kept his cake earlier. She uses steady hands to grab the sweets with tongs, and she motions Levi over to the register once she’s gotten everything in the box.

She reads the total amount to him without needing to input anything on the register, letting on that she’s knowledgeable enough about the price of all the stock in the bakery, and she pulls out a spool of ribbon and a pair of scissors from underneath the counter. Levi hears the quiet snip of scissors as he gathers the money from his coat pocket, and he watches as she laces the ribbon through the openings of the box.

She puts away her ribbon in exchange for a small roll of tape, and when she sees that Levi has already set all the money on the counter between them, she nervously smiles. “Thank you! I’m sorry, just give me one more second.” She focuses her attention downwards again, placing the tape in various spots to keep the box sealed, and she holds it out for Levi to take when she’s finished.

He does, and he places it on his lap, careful to make sure that it’s level and won’t fall off.

She takes the money he set down, and she counts it to herself quietly before inputting something into the register, placing the money inside, and outstretching a silver coin in change to him. “Have a good rest of your day!”

He nods, taking the change, but just as he’s about to leave, he remembers that he has that ticket in his pocket, and before the woman can leave for the kitchen again, he takes it out and sets it on the counter. “I don’t need this.”

She hums in confusion as she looks down at it, then her eyes flicker up towards him. “I don’t recall ever seeing you before, where did you get this?”

“My kids said someone gave it to them as an apology for not having a specific flavor.”

She lights up. “Oh, those two! About this tall?” She motions, showing how tall they are relative to her own height. Levi nods. “They were here in the morning to buy a birthday cake. How’d you like it?”

“It was good,” he says gently. “And thank you for wrapping up their gifts for me.”

“Of course! They’re incredibly sweet, you and your wife must’ve raised them well.”

Levi splutters, and, in surprise, he nearly drops the box from his lap. “They’re not my kids in that manner, I just look out for them when I can.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “Well, no matter, if you have this ticket, you might as well use it, right?”

“It’s alright, I don’t need it.”

“I’m insisting, then.”

“Isn’t your boss going to be upset with you for giving away stock?”

She hums, shaking her head. “I own the place, so I wouldn’t say so.”

Levi frowns. “Can you even afford to give things away for free?”

She laughs, this time without qualm, and she looks off and out the window, scratching at her cheek with her pointer finger. “I guess it does look pretty empty today, huh? I’d sold out of most of today’s inventory in the morning, so if you’re worried about my business, don’t be.”

That’s certainly a relief.

“Besides, I rarely ever hand these out, so it’s alright. And today’s a special occasion!”

“What’re you talking about?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“Right,” Levi muses, kissing his teeth.

“Just think of it as another gift, then.”

“I still don’t feel right accepting anything for free. Besides,” Levi eyes flicker back to the now-empty display. “There’s nothing else to take.”

The woman turns around, leaning back against the counter to be further eye-level with Levi as she points to the written menu up-top in front of them. “You could have some tea! I’d like to think I’m pretty good at brewing a cup.”

As eager as you sound, that offer doesn’t sound enticing to him at all. He has no doubt that it probably tastes fine, but he has no intention of trying any new tea right now. Possibly ever. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”

She picks up the ticket and looks, again, between it and Levi. “Well, I can’t force you, but now that I know it’s your birthday, I can’t just let you go home without something special for yourself.”

“Who said all these aren’t?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know they aren’t.”

Levi deadpans. “And you know this, how?”

She hums, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the counter. “You seem like the type to save the best bite for last, but that just means you appreciate your food. You’ll probably invite some friends over and only eat what’s left after everyone picks what they want, right?”

When Levi doesn’t reply, instead only briefly looking down into his lap, she laughs again, standing straight up again.

“Got you, didn’t I?” She teases, winking playfully. “Take a seat at one of the tables, I’ll bring you something from the back.”

“Wait-”

Before he can tell her that he had only planned to come and go, she skips off to the back, and Levi can only watch as the ribbon in her hair trails behind her and leaves behind a white blur.

Well, he guesses he’s stuck here now. He’d feel even worse if he just left, and that poor woman came out and couldn’t find him.

He supposes he was right to think she was both exceptionally foolish, and, more-so, painfully kind.

Levi sighs, and he looks over his shoulder to assess the tables. There’s one at the corner of the room, away from the few patrons here, and he makes his way there. He passes by the shelf of greens and ceramics to get there, and he gets struck by a strong smell of… freshness.

Just like he was when he’d had his cake earlier.

He puts his box on the table and moves himself from his wheelchair to the plush of the seat provided, and he sighs at the change of cushion on his thighs. He takes off his gloves and leans his head on a propped-up left hand, breathing warm and slow to watch the cold air cloud with a slight gale. He faces the window as he waits, watching as people covered up for the winter walk past the bakery, and he pulls his coat tighter as he feels the cold wind as it blows in through the open door.

The baker comes back to the table before he can think too harshly about anything in particular, and with her, she carries a tray with a small packaged sweet and a steaming cup of tea. She places it in front of him, careful not to spill anything, and she smiles down at him.

“Happy birthday! It’s on the house!”

“Thank you,” he replies, awkwardly nodding, and he waits for her to be safely faraway enough from him before he stares down at the tray, watching as the warmth of the tea bleeds up into the air.

Through the clear top of the package, Levi sees a slice of cake, with speckled vanilla cream and berries strewn about. On the side of the package, tied with ribbon, is a small plastic fork. He lifts the slice up, and as he saw earlier with the tea she’d wrapped, there’s a small ribbon hanging from the bottom too.

Next to the teacup, there’s a smaller dish of sugar cubes, as well as two small pitchers of cream and honey. Even more captivating, there’s a small sprig of what looks to be mint. The point where the small stem has been split off looks wet, as if it’s just been plucked from its shrub.

She must’ve broken it off on her way to his table.

He has no intention of drinking the tea, nor doing anything with the additions she’s brought him, so he carefully lifts up the cake slice and pushes away the tray.

Better to leave it noticeably untouched. Maybe she can drink it herself when she returns to clear his table after he leaves.

He peels away the ribbon at the side to get his fork, then at the one on the bottom, and the box unfolds into a sort of plate where the cat sits neatly at the center. A blueberry nearly rolls away and off the surface, but he manages to stop it with the edge of his fork.

He sets the berry back on top of the slice, atop the dollop of cream at the cake’s edge, and he cuts away a piece to pick up with his fork.

Once more, his mouth is greeted with a symphony of flavors, none too familiar to him.

He can’t be bothered to even try to make sense of the way this new sensation feels. It’s divine in a way he doesn’t know how to describe, and his rational mind gives way for his mouth to blindly enjoy the sugar and spice that’s in front of him. Around him, people slowly leave, himself being the last person lost in this cold paradise as he savors the baked good brought to him, but at least he has the shared, lonesome company of the baker running this shop.

She had come out from the kitchen a few times to clean tables and bring dishes to the back, but for the most part, she’d left him alone entirely. He didn’t think anything ill of that—he’d just assumed she was busy taking care of things for the following day’s opening, or whatever else it is that bakers have to handle at the tail end of their day.

Once Levi finishes his cake and gathers his things on his lap, she emerges from the kitchen once more, sending him a smile before going over to flip the bakery’s open sign and move the plant keeping the door open. 

He wheels himself over to the trashcan near the door, tossing in the remnants of the cardboard he’d just eaten off of, and he meets her gaze halfway as he goes to leave.

“Thank you, again. For the cake.”

“Don’t mention it,” she muses, going over to hold the door open for him to leave.  “I need to close up now, but come again sometime, yeah? I’m open from Tuesday to Friday!”

He nods halfheartedly, and she smiles as she tilts her head towards the direction of the street. He leaves, needing to be careful as to not bump into her hair ribbon as he passes through the door, and he’s off to find home again. The sun, now, is nearer to the horizon, but he knows he’ll have enough time to make it back to the house before dark.

Before he can get too far, though, he hears the bell of the bakery doors reopening abruptly.

“Wait! I didn’t catch your name!” The baker calls after him.

From across the street, he looks over his shoulder and at her, her hair blowing alongside the zephyr. Her hair’s white ribbon flies higher, as its light weight makes it catch wind more steadily, and her cheeks turn pink with the nipping cold.

“Capta-,” he hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek.

Even after all these years, he’s never fully been able to forget his formal introduction.

Maybe he was right to think it wasted to wish for a life simpler than what he’s been given.

“It’s Levi,” he says a bit louder, hoping the wind will carry his name to her.

“Levi?”

He nods.

She then smiles, and she waves at him sweetly, her other hand keeps her hair from blocking her vision. “Happy birthday again, Levi!”

He brings up his hand to wave back to her in polite gratitude, and her grin becomes ever-brighter at the returned gesture. 

As he turns away from her and she retreats back to the bakery, he realizes that even with the sun now hiding between the concrete of buildings seemingly taller than the skies themselves, she was so like the sun. So blindingly-so, that he’d forgotten to ask her name in return.

Goddamn it.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

It’s not too long before Levi returns to the quaint little bakery at the corner near the market.

Once the new year has begun and he’s needed to go stock up on more supplies for his garden, he’s back in that part of town, and after he’s exhausted himself by looking for new gardening gloves and new nails to repair a broken section of the trellis, he’s found himself back here again, looking through the display glass at various cakes and sweets, much more fully-stocked than the last time he was here, and through gentle breeze at the baker who’s currently giving a high-five to the kid in front of him in line.

As Levi waits his turn, he looks through the array of desserts carefully before he decides on a slice of black forest cherry cake. He hasn’t got any clue what that’s meant to taste like, but he doesn’t think he could be let down by anything from this place. Because he has plans at the house later with Onyankopon, Gabi, and Falco to start working on getting the dirt ready for the spring planting, he’ll bring them all back something too.

When it’s his time to get to the baker, her eyes light up at the sight of the man, now dressed slightly warmer with the now-present hot sunrise. She herself is still in that same yellow apron, but she’s now dressed in a long skirt and a frilly blouse.

“Welcome back, Levi!”

“Good morning,” he greets softly.

Still in her hair is her signature white ribbon, and she rests her head on her arms atop the display case as she follows along where Levi’s eyes go. “What would you like today?”

“Could I get a slice of black forest cherry?”

She points to it from above. “This one?”

Levi nods.

The baker hums to herself as she slides open the backside of the display, the pair of tongs in her hands hovering over the assortment of slices before remaining still above the flavor he’s asked for. She squints as she looks at all of them before choosing one awkwardly in the middle of all the others, and she takes an unfolded package box from underneath the counter to put it into.

“Anything else for you? Did you want to buy out the entire display again?” She teases, a playful smile decorating her features.

Levi feels a faint flutter in his heart with her exuberance, but he ignores it and clears his throat, looking through the glass again. “Not today.”

She laughs. “I’ll look forward to when you will, then.”

“Do you have any suggestions? I’m having people over at my house later today.”

She hums, clicking the claws of her tongs together a few times as she crouches down and looks at everything. She accidentally makes eye contact with Levi through the glass here, and she smiles sweetly at him before going back to looking. Her eyes are downcast, blocked by her long eyelashes, yet they still trace sunlight as they move across the sweets on display.

“How about an orange sugar cake?” She suggests, eyes flitting up to meet his. “I think they’re in season right now, they were pretty cheap at the market when I went yesterday.”

They are. Jean had brought over a potted orange treeling just the other day.

“Sounds good,” he says.

She gently tugs on the cakeboard of a pale orange cake, dusted with powdered sugar and decorated with thyme, before pulling it completely off the display and over to the counter, getting a second box that’s much bigger and without cellophane top.

She motions him over to the register, and she goes through the same remembered motions that Levi remembers her making from the last time he’d watched her wrap up his things.

As she pulls out her scissors and ribbon, she tells him the total of the numbers he’d already read on the cakes’ accompanying price tags, and Levi reaches into his coat pocket for the wallet that Onyankopon had gifted him for his birthday (him and the rest of the 104th ended up hosting a birthday party for him when they’d all returned from the Island, those fucking bastards).

“So, what brings you here today?” She asks.

Levi opens up his wallet, careful not to spill anything from his lap as he tries to gather up all the bills he needs. “Passing through to run errands. I figured I’d stop by.”

“Do you live far from here?”

“A fair bit away, but I’ve managed.”

“Well,” the sound of a snip of her scissors, “I’m glad to see you back! I was worried I’d scared you off a bit,” she jokes.

He raises a brow. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

At his usage of profanity, she giggles, amused. “I don’t know, I came off pretty strong when you were here. Sorry about that.”

That much might be true, but it’s not something that’d scare him anyway.

“No need to be sorry. You didn’t scare me.”

“That’s a relief,” she muses. reaching for a roll of tape. “Are you eating your slice here, or will you be taking that home?”

Looking over at the window, he sees too many people moving about. He’ll stay here to avoid the foot-traffic. “I’ll have it here.”

She hums in acknowledgement, and after a few snips, she continues. “No tea again?”

Levi lies through his teeth. “Not much of a tea drinker.”

She pauses to look at him briefly, but then goes back to lacing the ribbon through the folds of the box. “Right.”

. . .

“Do you garden?”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“Your gloves,” she says, pointing with her scissors at the new pair sitting on his lap. “I have the same ones.”

“Oh. Yes, I do.” His hands, already gloved to protect his palms from the grime of the street he wheels through, go to touch the newly bought gloves. He hadn’t ever gotten these specific ones before, but he hopes they’ll be alright.

“They’re a good brand, I like them a lot.”

“Never used these before, I hope they’re good,” Levi says, eyes following her swift hands as they cut tape. “None of them ever feel right.”

“Why do you say that?”

Well, it's kind of hard for gloves to feel comfortable when he’s missing two of his fingers.

The extra unused fabric just awkwardly hangs downwards as he works in the fields of his backyard, and even though he’s found that tucking them inside-out makes them less of a hassle, they still feel disgusting against the skin of the back of his right hand, so he usually prefers the inconvenience. He goes through his gloves quickly, though, as the overhanging pieces tend to get caught and tear on tools and trellis.

“They just don’t.”

Levi puts the money on the table, and he puts away his wallet as the baker counts it out and puts it into the register.  She hands him back his change, but before Levi can get to trying to figure out how to fit all this and his other items from the market on his lap, she pulls back the boxes closer to herself and picks them up.

When he looks up at her quizzically, she just smiles softly and tilts her head towards the tables. “Gonna show me where you want to sit, or do you want me to choose for you?”

He feels his ears flush red as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything stupid, and he looks away from her.

He clicks his tongue to feign indifference, and he brings himself over to that same, unoccupied table at the corner of the room. The baker follows closely behind him, and she places the boxes on the table for him. She excuses herself quickly to go fetch him a fork, as she hadn’t taped one onto the side of his smaller slice box.

Levi pulls the packaged cake slice closer to himself, and he pulls gently on the ribbon underneath to undo the tape and unravel the box, just as he did when he was here on his birthday.

The baker returns, with a fork in hand, and she sets it down carefully on a napkin she’d taken out from her apron pocket. “Enjoy, Levi! Let me know when you’re leaving, so I can help get your cake ready for transport.”

“What?” He blinks.

“You can’t just carry a cake in your lap all the way home, can you?”

He hadn’t thought it’d be much of an inconvenience, but she’s probably right. Getting to and from this part of town is difficult enough as a person with mobility issues, and trying to balance an entire cake on his lap without his hands sounds even more hellish. 

“Alright, I’ll let you know, then.”

“Perfect! I’ll see you in a bit!” Right after she turns on her heel, though, she pauses and looks over her shoulder at him, and she turns around. “Actually…”

“What?”

She stretches out her hand to him, her palm-up. “Could I have your gardening gloves for a bit?”

He’s… confused.

“What do you mean, ‘can you have my gardening gloves?’ You said you had your own pair.”

She only smiles, the ribbon in her hair bouncing slightly as her spirit tries to convince him to believe her. “I promise, I’ll give them back to you.”

Well, he has nothing to lose here anyway. If she doesn’t give him back his gloves, he can just go over to the market and buy another pair, or just cut his losses entirely and accept that gardening gloves aren’t worth jack shit.

And, for whatever reason, he feels like he can trust her.

Whether or not he wants to think further about that, entirely up in the air, but for the time being, he picks up the gloves from his lap and hands them to the unnamed baker, who then excuses herself with another smile and leaves for the back part of the bakery.

What a strange woman.

He picks up the fork she’d brought back for him and starts digging into the cake, already knowing to prepare himself for the harmonious musings of flavors he’s about to take in, and he beams to himself when he’s finally got the cake in his mouth.

He’d expected as much, but he’s still going to be surprised anyway.

When he’s finished with the piece of cake, the small lace doily completely free of any residual crumbs, he cranes his head to look towards the kitchen where the baker had disappeared, hoping that she’ll meet his gaze halfway and just come out to help him as promised (and bring back his gloves, but honestly, he has no fucking clue what she’s doing with them, so maybe she doesn’t need to do that).

Lo and behold, as she’s crossing through the space visible from the front of the house, she looks out towards him, and when her eyes lock with his, she pauses, rushes back from the direction she came from, and skips over to Levi, gloves in her hand as well as a decently large cloth bag.

“You about ready to leave now?”

Levi nods.

The baker smiles as she holds out the gloves out to Levi, prompting him to take them back. “Try these on, okay? I’ll get your cake hooked up onto your chair, and you can be on your way.”

She picks up the larger box of orange sugar cake and places it carefully into the cloth bag she’s brought from the kitchen, and she disappears behind Levi to start attaching things to the back of his wheelchair. Levi cranes his neck to try and watch as she works behind him, but because he really can’t see anything even when his entire upper body stretches and turns, he resolves to just do as he’s told and try on his gloves.

He sighs as he lays them both out on the table to see which goes on which hand, but as his eyes regain focus under the morning sun, he’s surprised to see that the right side’s pointer and middle fingers are… gone?

He swears he had gotten gloves that were annoyingly both five-fingered.

He remembers having grimaced as he went to pay for them, knowing that he’d have to go back and try another brand at some point in the future when these would inevitably annoy the shit out of him. Onyankopon would try to cheer him up, the kids would make another joke about how he’s had to spend more money on gloves than on actual gardening supplies, and the cycle would repeat itself until Levi’s too old and brittle to keep tending to the fields.

He holds the glove up to his face, looking closer at the seam where the fabric should be, but he only finds a neatly stitched line which connects the panels of the palm and back of a hand.

It’s stitched in the same pale yellow thread as her apron.

“Did you…”

She laughs from behind him, and he hears a faint rustling of ribbon along with the sound. “Did I what?”

“Nevermind,” he utters softly, and using his left hand, he pulls off his right fingerless glove, picks up the gardening glove again, and tugs it onto his hand.

He closes his fist.

Opens it.

And closes it again.

The gentle compress of the thick fabric feels nice against his knuckles, as opposed to the loose feeling of air he was used to feeling there, of which would both irritate and overwhelm his senses.

“Okay, I’m done!”

Looking back again, he sees that the baker has now stood up, and there’s now a ribbon tied between both handles of his wheelchair, ornately kept together with knots he doesn’t know how to undo. The ribbons are interlaced with the handles of the cloth bag, and it seems to provide extra support for the cake to keep it from rocking about as Levi travels.

She points to the end of a piece of ribbon at the left handle. “Pull on that piece to untie everything, just be careful taking it off your chair because the bag isn’t the strongest without the ribbon to support it.”

Levi’s heart flutters at the gesture, but there’s a quiet sinking which keeps him from being as appreciative as he wants to be.

“Did you get that?” She asks, waving a hand in front of his face.

He blinks, and he dumbly nods. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says.

Before he can stop the words from spilling over, they come out. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

The baker looks at him with confused eyes. “What, do you think you aren’t worth it?”

Yes.

“No.”

She smiles warmly and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s really not any trouble, Levi. I’m more than happy to help out.”

The bell from the door of the bakery rings, alerting her of another customer coming into the building, and she sheepishly smooths out the front of her apron before excusing herself to attend to them.

Again, before he can stop himself, his right hand, still gloved in the dense fabric of the gardening material, reaches out to gently hold onto her wrist.

She looks down at him, seemingly and entirely unbothered by his touch, and she doesn’t move away from his grasp. “Do you need anything?”

Levi’s heart gets caught in his throat, but he manages to speak once more. “Could I ask for your name?”

The question feels fiercely intimate, just as it did when she’d asked for his name, but, here, it feels like such a far leap.

And, yet, she still smiles at him, and she moves her hand so that she’s able to squeeze his palm gently.

When she speaks her name— your name—to him, he catches a peek of sunshine from the corner of his eye, caught on the reflection of the bell.

And he wonders if this is how the sea feels when it meets the sky.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

“You’re a lot faster than you usually are, Levi,” Onyankopon comments, passing by him on his way back to the house. “Something motivating you today?”

Levi shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

The taller man smiles good-naturedly and hoists up the shovel held over his shoulder. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve been working long enough, so you should come inside with us to have some of that cake you brought back with you. It’s gonna get dark soon.”

Levi sighs, taking the small towel draped over his shoulder to wipe at the sweat that’s built on his forehead. “Yeah, sure.”

Onyankopon picks up Levi’s cane from the ground and hands it to him, the latter thanking him for the help. As Levi reaches for it, Onyankopon takes notice of the gloves Levi’s wearing.

“New gloves?”

At the mention of them, Levi looks down, and he finds himself having to push away the flicker of sunbeam that replays in his mind.

Levi nods, and he slings his towel back onto his shoulder.

“Something like that.”

The next time he sees you, he really ought to thank you again.

It seems this year will have an even better harvest.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

The next time he comes to the bakery is in another month’s time, just as winter begins to fade into the very early beginnings of spring.

Mikasa’s birthday is tomorrow, and it’s about that time of year that she routinely asks Levi to join her at the beach to mull over life’s happenings. Even worse, Eren’s birthday is just over the horizon, and that’s a tough time for everyone, but for her especially.

Because he knows that it’s hard for Mikasa to even bring herself to eat during these times, her mouth only opening to speak from the heart and weep for love’s past, Levi figures that bringing something sweet for her to pick at as she watches the sun fall is enough gesture to tell her that he wants her to take care of yourself, so that’s why he’s made the trip over here.

It’s also Falco’s birthday tomorrow, and Levi feels so inclined to get the brat a cake to celebrate another year of living. He’s been asking for something new to try from the bakery, anyway, so Levi might as well indulge the kid and let him and Gabi both bounce off the walls with energy.

While he’s here, he may as well extend his gratitude to you, too.

He doesn’t think he’ll need to buy any new pairs of gardening gloves soon.

When he comes through the opened door, there’s a long line, and Levi sighs.

With all these people, he’s bound to only have limited conversation with you, and even though he still doesn’t think himself deserving of the compassion which is extended alongside your time, he’d looked forward to it during the travel over.

He gets in the line, and as it moves fairly slowly, he watches as the display case becomes increasingly emptied. It feels like forever before he’s finally at the front, but once he’s there, he finds it all worth it to see the way your face shines when you see him, warmth radiating from you in spite of the gentle early spring wind.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while!”

He lets the very corners of his mouth upturn slightly, your aura too bright to even be dampened by Levi’s everpresent somber.

“Good afternoon to you, too.”

“Sorry about the wait, what can I get for you today?”

For Mikasa, “Do you have any strawberry cakes left?”

You nod, already starting to reach for one. “How’s this one?”

“That’ll do just fine,” Levi says. And for Falco, “Could I also get a cheesecake, if you have any?”

“You got it!”

“...And could you write Happy Birthday on both of them?”

You hum in confirmation, and while you get to doing that, already knowing to meet you at the counter to pay, Levi pushes himself forward and begins to take out his bills, eyes occasionally flitting upwards to watch as you tape together the box and lace ribbon throughout. Just as you’re finished packaging up everything, you take his money, bill out the change, and Levi’s now awkwardly looking between the boxes and his own lap.

“Hey, Levi,” you call to him, putting away your packing tools underneath the counter. “If you wait over by your usual table, I can get these on your chair in a few minutes. Let me just take care of this line first.”

His eyes widen. “It’s fine, you don’t have to-”

“Are you in a hurry out?” You ask.

No.

“Yes.”

Your face drops slightly, but you still keep the light expression on your features. “Oh, well, alright. Let me go grab a crate, then, that might be easier to manage than just holding onto these.”

You disappear into the back, and you return just as quickly as you’d left, a decently large crate in your hands. You put that on the table while you lower the cakes into it, and after slotting some ribbon through the panels of the wooden crate to keep the cakes from moving too much in transport and taping a few more things together, Levi’s on his way out the door with two birthday cakes secured on his lap, and you’re back to tending to customers with a bright smile, moving your hands as you speak. 

Maybe he’s better off not thanking you again. You don’t have the time to be talking to someone like him, especially right now while you tend to other patrons, and even at his grown age, Levi feels too awkward to try and find a way to cooly express gratitude for an action taking place an entire month ago.

As he watches for the leaves on the plant holding the bakery door open, a little pink slip catches his eye from the inner wall facing him of the crate, a short stream of ribbon underneath the tape that holds it in place. He raises a brow, and he wheels himself to a stop just outside the large windows of the building to look at it more closely.

Good for one free item!

Levi looks at you from through the glass, catching your gaze already on him and waiting for his reaction, and he points at the ticket taped to his crate. You sweetly wave at him, but when Levi starts to turn his wheelchair around to try and return it, you frantically wave your hands out in front of you to tell him to just keep it.

And, well.

Considering the fact that he does eventually want to return, this is a good enough excuse to.

He wonders if that’s also what you want, and he can’t help but feel like, maybe, it is; because after he turns to go back on his way home, he can practically feel the warmth of your smile from the sun itself, even when there is an incessant, unrelenting voice at the back of his mind telling him that he’s not allowed to be happy like this.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

Not even a week later, in the middle of February, Levi is back in the bakery.

The sun is starting to still in the sky for a bit longer than it has been for the past several months, and that means that there’s soon to be many more insects crawling around, of which try to eat at the leaves of the plants Levi tends to in the fields. He’d came to the market with the excuse that he needs to buy insecticide spray that the kids always beg to use (and, no, they aren’t allowed to use it anymore because Levi knows they’ll get so carried away with watching the dispensed mist that they won’t properly use it, and lord knows the tomato plants have suffered enough).

With the pink ticket in the silk of his pants pocket, he comes in through the propped-open door, and he greets you with a wave when he catches your eye from behind the counter.

Thankfully, there’s not too much of a line right now, so maybe you’ll indulge him and keep him company for a bit.

“Good morning,” you greet, meeting him at the display, a bright smile on your face. “What brings you here today? Another birthday?”

“Not today, just stopping by to use that ticket you gave me.” He tears his eyes away from you to look at the assortment of slices available. “Are you busy right now?”

“Not really,” you muse. “Why, do you want company while you eat?”

Levi freezes.

. . .

Is it that obvious?

You laugh, resting your head on the glass top of the display case. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

Right.

“I’ll have a slice of the raspberry cake.”

“Sure thing!”

You hum to yourself as you pick out the prettiest piece for him, and Levi meets you at the register with the pink ticket. You take it from him, making a bit of a scene by checking its “validity” before laughing and putting it into the pocket of your apron, and you lean forward with your elbows on the counter.

“No tea for you today?” You ask.

“No tea. Sorry.”

“Would you mind, then, if I had some while I sat with you?”

His eyes widen.

“You’re actually…?”

You playfully roll your eyes as you turn to go back to the kitchen, presumably to fetch yourself a cup of tea. “You’re pretty easy to read, you know that?”

No, he didn’t know that.

“Sure.”

“I’ll meet you at your table, don’t wait up for me!”

Levi lets out a nervous breath as he picks up the packaged cake slice, and he wheels himself over to that corner table by the window. Once he’s there and has taken a seat in the plush chair, he undoes the ribbon wrapping on the box, and he peels away the fork from the side to rest it on the table as he waits for you to return.

When you come back, you bring back a tray to his table with two teacups in it, as well as a mint sprig between your fingers. You gently pull out the chair for yourself, and you follow Levi’s gaze out to the window as you take sips from your tea.

He looks down at the other teacup there, accompanied by that same small dish with sugar cubes and two small pitchers of cream and money.

“I’m not drinking that.”

You blow away the steam that wafts from your cup, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I know, but just in case.”

Levi’s eyes turn to look at you, waiting for you to start talking as he expects you to, but when his gaze meets yours, you only smile at him before going back to looking out the window, a meaningful, yearning look on your face as you watch city life go about itself.

In the end, he does the same, sitting and soaking in sunlight through the glass. Leaves fall from upper canopies right outside, and Levi watches as they hit the ground softly. Some of them fall onto people’s hair and hats, in which case Levi will hear you giggling quietly to yourself at the charming ignorance of a new accessory, and he feels a quiet flame start in his heart when he sees the way the sunbeam brings glow to your bright eyes.

But that’s not really that important.

You do have to get up at times to quickly tend to customers and get tea brewing for those who order it, but it’s hardly even noticeable to Levi when you do leave because of the trance he’s in as he watches the sunglow.

When Levi finishes his cake and you’re finished with your tea, you get up from the table and smooth out of the front of your apron. “It was nice sitting with you, thank you for letting me.”

He looks up at you and nods. “Likewise.”

“I’ll leave you be, but even though I can’t always give you free inventory, I hope you’ll come back,” you tease, a knowing smile on your face.

Against all better judgment telling him that he’s not meant to be living his life like this, “I will.”

The answer seems to surprise you slightly, as you still for a second, but you just laugh and shake your head, leaning your hand on the table as the other goes to take away his trash and the undrunken tea. “I’ll hold you to it, then. See you around, Levi.”

“Bye,” he says softly.

You wave at him as you begin to leave, but there’s a nagging at Levi’s mind to do what he’d wanted to the last time he was here.

Well, no time better than the present.

“And thank you for altering my gloves!” He shouts after you.

At the sound of his voice, you twirl around to meet his eyes halfway, and his heart just about stops as he watches the ribbon in your hair reflect soft lampglow as it follows the spin of your head.

And it actually does when you beam at him, a dusty pink on your cheeks as your smile reaches your eyes. “You’re welcome!”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

By the time April comes around, it’s practically routine for Levi to come to the bakery every week. 

(He chooses to come on Wednesdays because that’s when it’s the least busy in the week, and he knows you'll be able to sit with him.)

The weather’s been perfect for him to be awake for the entirety of the day, and now that the breeze and temperature have settled enough to afford him a stable harvest without needing much effort on his part, he’s free to do nothing with his time.

Though, he isn’t completely sure if it amounts to “nothing” if he spends his nights either silently sharing grief with Mikasa (and, nowadays, Arlert too) on the sand or turning about in the lounge chair in the corner of his room, trying to find way to bring himself to clear his thoughts to even lay in his bed.

But, he can’t say for sure whether or not it’s worth anything otherwise, so it’s nothing.

Nothing much has changed, anyway, so Levi’s fine with the monotony that follows him around. His weekly visits become intertwined with the routine he’s engaged with in this life, which, then, leads him to spending part of his free time in this little bakery, just barely an hour’s walk away (not that he’s tried to actually walk that distance yet, but the pain in his legs has gradually subsided over the past months, so he’s satisfied enough knowing that he probably could if he wanted to), yet seemingly in a world so different from his.

He sits, watching as the world passes by him in seeming slow motion as he relishes in the serenity of this room. The smell of herbs, freshly picked from the shelf near him, travels alongside sugar and spice, and he’s left to forget that he’s not entirely his own.

In similar manner, it’s practically routine for you to have a cup of tea with Levi with he eats whatever it is that he buys from the display case (or, sometimes you’ll bring out something from the back for him to try—you insist it’s on the house, but he always manages to shove the exact legal tender into your hands anyway).

You also always bring out two cups of tea—one for yourself, one that’s meant for him—but he never drinks from it. It changes every week. Never is the tea the same color as in the previous week, almost as if you’re trying to gauge what it is that he enjoys.

It’s too kind.

He hates it.

And what makes it worse is that you don’t even seem to mind, even though Levi does tell you that he isn’t going to have any, every single time. You wave him off, only to resume sharing the sunlight with him, waiting for your own tea to cool enough to sip.

And he hates that he’s touched by that.

On this particular day, he’s having a slice of apricot cake, you’re having a cup of citrus tea with mint leaves, and there’s that gentle silence that hangs overhead every time this happens.

And whether or not it’s because it’s become so painfully soothing to just sit in silence with you, he doesn’t care to know, but today, by the time he’s finished savoring his piece, there’s a gentle pouring of rain outside.

He’d came much later than usual, as he’d met up with the 104th in the late afternoon to have lunch for Kirstein’s birthday (Kirstein, who’d begged for Levi to stay fully into the evening to join the lot for a night out drinking, but everyone else in their right mind at that luncheon (meaning, everyone but Kirstein and Springer) scolded him for asking that a poor old man like Levi stay out late), so, by now, he knows that even if he were to start heading home right now (in the pouring rain, mind you), it’d be nearing nightfall until he reached his destination.

And, of course, it’s nearing closing time for the bakery, so he’s bound to get kicked out at some point soon.

You excuse yourself after you finish your tea, just as you always do, with a smile and a joke about him coming back the following week, and Levi’s left to awkwardly wait for his mind to come up with a solution to this… relatively minor dilemma, but one nonetheless. The rain only seems to get heavier with each passing second, and his decision to not just brave out the light downpour seems to be hurting him now. Levi’s the only person left in here, everyone else having already left to escape when the rain was light enough to bear without an umbrella.

He supposes that he could find a nearby hostel to stay at for the night. He’s brought his wallet with him, so he’d have enough to get a room for the night, maybe for a hotel if he’s so inconvenienced.

He’s just going to (try to) sleep in the room’s chair, anyway. Doesn’t really matter to him where he spends the night.

When the sun finally falls low enough in the sky to only be seen looking sideways, you come out from the back part of the bakery, go to flip the open sign, and move the potted plant keeping the door open. You wipe your hands, wet with the rain that’d dripped onto the rim of the plant pot, on the front of your apron, and look over at Levi, who feels like a deer caught in headlights.

“...I swear, I’ll be on my way out soon.”

You scrunch your eyebrows. “What’re you talking about? You can’t get home in this rain.”

“It’s not so hard to get a room for the night around here.”

“Sure, but that’s really stupid when you could just stay here.”

He scoffs halfheartedly. “Right, like I could do that.”

When you don’t bite back with another joke, he recoils into himself.

“Right?”

“You’re more than welcome to.”

“Actually?"

You nod, going over to behind the display case to start cleaning. “You’ve been coming here for the last four months, I don’t mind helping out a friend.”

A friend.

You consider him a friend?

His heart feels caught in the downpour, but in the way that it’s swept away without disregard for its intentions.

It doesn’t feel… right.

Is it even fair for him to let himself get entangled like this? To let someone like you , befriend someone like him?

What could he possibly give you?

And, yet, even with the flushing away of his heart, he wishes to find it again, if only to feel the gentle spark he’d felt in it.

“Don’t you need to get home yourself?”

“I live in the apartment upstairs. Not to mention, the nearest place to stay the night is a couple blocks away, I wouldn’t want you to get lost looking for it.”

Oh.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“...But are you sure?”

You laugh from behind the display, and after having cleared everything from the shelves, you peer at him through the glass. “Yes, Levi, I’m sure.”

Levi balls up his fists in his lap, unsure of what to do.

In the first place, Levi doesn’t enjoy the rain, so walking through it for that long of a distance, especially under this heavy downpour, is entirely out of the question.

Prior to being named Captain, he liked it well enough, and its drip and drop was soothing enough to lull him to a half-sleep even if he was unable to clear his head. He’d experienced his first downpour with both Isabel and Furlan, out in the streets of Mitras scarcely after being coerced into the Survey Corps, so rain was precious to him in the sense that it’d represented what forces had pulled him from his doomed life in the Underground.

But after so many expeditions gone wrong in the rainstorms of Paradis, he’s avoided actually being in it for too long to avoid stirring up painful memories of those times. The splash of rain, the thundering of clouds overhead—they’re the rare pieces of that life that haunt him in this one, even with their objective and sentimental beauty.

But he’d rather that than have to be fussed over by a woman he’s come to enjoy the company of. He couldn’t stand giving the rain yet another moment to ruin.

““I really don’t mean to be an inconvenience, just point me in the direction of the nearest hostel.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Please, don’t worry about being an inconvenience.”

He frowns. “Really, I mean it.”

“I do too.” You get up from your position bent over to clean the display case, stretching your arms upwards.

“Do you seriously trust me not to completely ransack your home?”

“Hm? Where would I get that impression of you? You seem pretty normal to me.”

. . .

That’s right. You didn’t know him in that life.

You know him in this one.

The one he doesn’t feel is his to begin with.

“Nevermind.”

You yawn, and you crouch back down, cleaning cloth in your hand to wipe away condensation on the glass. “Tell you what, I’ll let you help clean the kitchen, and that’ll be worth my ‘trouble’ spent letting you stay the night here. Sound good?”

No.

Yes.

He doesn’t know.

“I’m not an indentured servant, you can’t barter like this.”

You laugh again, the ribbon in your hair bouncing as your body splutters. “Right, I shouldn’t.” Another wipe at the glass. “But, really, Levi. I’d rather you here than out in the rain.”

“You do realize that this means I’d be here the entire night, right?”

“Of course I do, what am I, a fool?”

“Maybe.”

Or, more likely, it’s him that’s the fool.

“Do you need to be somewhere tomorrow?”

For once, he’s honest.

“No.”

“Then what’s the harm in staying?”

Glancing out the window again, he sees that sunlight has nearly disappeared, blocked by both the horizon and the clouds thick in the sky. Looking back and forth between your humming figure and the door, its frame wet with the rain that leaks through the cracks, he realizes that you’re right.

He gets up from the cushioned seat and moves over to his wheelchair, admitting reluctant resolve as he wheels over to you, stopping between the front and back of the house.

He knows he’ll regret this later, when the moon has replaced the star in the sky, and he’s forced to confront the fact that he’s not deserving of this sort of compassion.

But, for reasons unrealized by both him and the gods above, he can’t bring himself to deny the sun, even if he is undeserving of its warmth.

“Where do I start?”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

Quite surprisingly, the ensuing night is silent.

Levi supposes that he shouldn’t be startled that you don’t talk much; you are still working, to some capacity, and he’s already settled into the fact that you aren’t all that talkative when you’re in his company.

The kitchen is dirtied in fresh flour and dirty dishes—obviously, a mess regardless, but one that doesn’t particular irk Levi, especially considering the fact that you’re the only person who works here—so Levi gets to work on cleaning that, and you’re sat at a table in the front of the house, handling finances and other paper tasks. You have half a sandwich with you at the table, and Levi is given the other.

Thankfully, his legs decide that today isn’t the day to curse him with excruciating pain, so he’s quite quick in getting everything sorted out and cleaned. There’s some things he can’t do, like put away large basins of flour or sugar, but other than a few stray items which only need to be put back in their proper places, the dishes get done, the perishables are put neatly into the fridge, the floor is swept, and kitchen is spic-and-span.

When he finishes, he gets back down in his wheelchair, and he goes to report to you that nearly everything’s done. However, you don’t seem to notice the sound of his wheels as they glide across the tile flooring, seemingly enamored in whatever it is you’re reading while you tap your pen against your lip.

The way you’re sat, one leg bent over the other, face propped up with one hand as eyes follow arcane words on the page, reminds him of how he’d sit at his own desk when he was in the military.

Whatever it is that you’re looking at, you pull your pen away from your lip and sign on a line, then slumping forward and sighing as you turn your head to put it down comfortably.

And, of course, Levi just had to be already looking at you from that position, so when you open your eyes to sit yourself up again, you make eye contact with him through the window of your arm and the ceiling.

Not expecting him to be there, you’re slightly startled, and you immediately straighten your back and sit up. “Oh! Are you finished in the kitchen?”

Levi nods. “I didn’t know where some things were supposed to be kept, so I left them on the counter. Nothing perishable, though.”

“That’s alright. Thank you, Levi,” you yawn and twist your upper body back and forth, holding onto the back of the chair as you turn. “And good timing, I’m about done with bookkeeping, so I’ll head up with you.” You gather together your books and pens and papers, putting them all into a folder, and you motion for Levi to follow you back through the kitchen and through a door which leads to the larger building’s hallways. There’s a set of stairs at the end of the hall, and it seems that’s where you’re leading him.

Levi’s about to comment on the fact that he’s really not sure he’s willing to haul both himself and his wheelchair up an entire flight of stairs, but you stop before you can, and you turn to walk another corner, and the two of you find yourselves in front of an elevator.

You press the button to go up, and you smile down at Levi, your papers tucked underneath your arm. “Sorry I’m not all that talkative after hours, I’m probably not as fun as you thought I was.”

That’s not a problem at all.

“I don’t care.”

When the elevator doors open, you let him on the platform first, and you follow inside to stand beside him and click on the button for the 2nd floor.

You close your eyes on the ascent, and Levi takes this as chance to glance at you from where he is.

Your ribbon sways as you do, humming to yourself as you wait for the elevator to reach the upstairs. There’s a soft smile on your face, flour slightly caught on your nose, and a bit of ink staining the parts of your lip where it’d met pen.

The yellow of your apron is brightened here, white lights of the elevator much more harsh than the natural light of the downstairs bakery. The frills on the edge of its skirt are more starkly defined here, and with the slight movement of your hips, they seem to blow like they’re in the breeze.

In a way, watching you here, he feels the way he feels when the sun starts to go to sleep. 

When the system beeps to tell you that you’ve reached your level, Levi pulls his eyes away from you, and he listens carefully as you yawn once more and tip your head where he’s meant to follow you. 

When you’re at your apartment door, you take out a key from the pocket of your dress, undo the lock, and you hold it open for Levi to come in first. He does, nodding as thanks, and you close it behind you.

“Make yourself at home, I’m going to take a quick shower,” you tell him sweetly, slipping past him to head for the bathroom.

Levi nods, and he takes a second to just comprehend the fact that he’s even here at all.

Looking around, he sees that your apartment is very… you.

In the past four months that Levi’s known you, he’s hardly learned anything personal. Though he’s gradually become more comfortable in your presence, very little words are exchanged apart from poking fun at each other or talking about things more paramount than life itself. All he knows about you, at this singular point in time, is that you’re incessantly kind, wonderfully talented at baking, and hard-working, but that all seems to show up here, in this little capsule you call home.

From what he can see from his view at the entrance, everything is spotlessly clean. On the dining table, there’s a few potted herbs growing from sprouts, and on the counters of the kitchenette adjacent to the door, there’s an array of various teas, one of which is the kind he himself drinks at home, as well as a dish-drying rack latent with measuring cups and utensils.

Further inwards is a couch with a neatly folded blanket and several pillows, all dyed with pale colors of the sky. There’s a coffee table in the center of the living room, the glass seemingly well-loved with faint stains of hot metal and water spots that won’t fade.

And, just outside your window, there’s an assortment of all sorts of plants, strewn and wrapped around the railing of your balcony. That very first time he’d sat and had his cake while you had your tea, those very leaves fell from there and landed like slow on people strolling through the street below, and, underneath the rain, the greenery reflects moonlight onto the pale, wooden floor.

Levi, conscious of the fact that his wheelchair would ruin the floor if he used it to get around, gets up as best he can and walks over to the couch, planting himself in the cushions and staring up at the ceiling.

He breathes slowly, too cautious to make even a sound, and in the distance, he hears the stronger sound of shower water hitting porcelaine. His mind’s hazy as he’s still forced to listen to the falling rain, pitter-pattering just a few feet away from him, and he has to completely abandon his head to give himself way to not think too hard about what the rain carries with it.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, he’s mastered the art of turning minutes into seconds for himself, and he has no meaningful thoughts between the time you’ve started your shower and now returned with a towel draped over your shoulders.

You’re dressed much more casually here, in a loose-fitting shirt and shorts. It’s the first time that he’s seeing you with your hair down, always used to seeing you with a ribbon tying it away from your face.

He already thought you were pretty enough during the daytime, your hair ribbon blowing in the breeze and the thread of your apron matching that of the stitch on his right gardening glove, but even with how muddled his mind is here, his breath is stolen again by the sight of you here, fresh out of the shower, your hair wet and dripping water onto your garments.

He can only be thankful that you seem too nonchalant to pay any mind to him, blindly walking over to the couch from the bathroom. Once you reach him, you hand him a spare towel as you take a seat next to him, pushing your back up against the couch. “I’m so tired,” you yawn once more, stretching out your legs. “Did you want to freshen up before bed?”

He looks down at the towel, rubbing his thumb against the fibers.

Yes.

But he knows he’s already taken advantage enough of you even allowing him to stay the night.

“I’m alright. You should go to bed.”

You hum next to him, joining in his ceiling gazing. In his periphery, he sees you flutter your eyes closed and relax your face, but he refuses to look too hard.

“Is this about you not wanting to be an inconvenience again?”

Yes .

“No.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Is he that easy to read?

Levi gulps. “Really, you can just go to sleep already. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to offer that you take the bed if you weren’t going to shower,” you jest, chuckling next to him. There’s a shift in the weight on the couch as you slowly get up, and when you turn to face him before heading off to your room, there’s a quiet, shy smile on your face, framed perfectly with moonlight. “I’m going to bed, then. You’ll probably see me in the morning, but if you miss me, I’ll see you next week.”

And with that and a wave goodnight, you’re gone, and all that Levi feels is a soft towel underneath the pads of the fingers on his left hand.

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

After several hours of complete silence wherein Levi only stared up at the ceiling, trying to escape his mind as he forces himself to reassess the feeling of the couch fabric against his aching bones, he hears the opening of a door.

More specifically, your bedroom’s door.

That’s odd on its own. The sun isn’t anywhere near out, and he hadn’t heard any stir from your room to assume you’d had a bad dream.

Levi closes his eyes to feign sleep, but he’s (very) apparently bad at it when he feels a faint breeze as you wave your hand in front of his face. His eyes flutter open, and he’s met with the sight of you, hands now behind your back as you tie on your apron over a long dress. You haven’t turned the lights on, so there’s only pale moonglow to light your apartment, yet his eyes trace your features like a moth to a flame.

“What’re you doing up?” He whispers, his voice scratchy.

You raise a brow at him. “More like, why are you up?”

Couldn’t sleep.

“I asked first.”

You hum to yourself, looking between him and the door. “I have to head down to the bakery soon.”

He looks to the clock on the wall. 3:45 AM.

“This early?”

“Yeah, all those sweets don’t make themselves,” you sigh airily, leaving him at the couch to grab your bookkeeping items at the kitchen counter. “I’m used to it, though, so it’s alright.”

“It still sounds like torture.”

“Your turn now.”

He waits until you’re headed for the shoe rack by the door, faced away from him.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

There’s the faint sound of fabric on fabric as you slide on your shoes, then a slight jangling of keys as you go to the hook by the door to put them in your pocket. You open the front door, and you look back at him over your shoulder, smiling sadly for him.

“Want to come with me, then? I can get you something to eat, if you’re just going to be awake anyway.”

When Levi hesitates to answer, you immediately perk up and wave your hands out in front of you.

“You don’t have to, I just thought I’d offer!”

. . .

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

The when I’m who I am is left out of the question, just as it was the last time he’d asked this, but he’s still afraid you’d heard it anyway.

You groan, throwing back your head as you do so. “You’ve already asked this before.”

That’s because he still doesn’t understand.

“Then you can answer it again.”

“Ok, well now you have to come with me,” you sigh. “Come on, old man.”

He frowns halfheartedly, but he starts to pull himself up from the couch, unable to do away with your offer. “Who are you calling old?”

“Gee, I wonder,” you sass, scoffing. “You’re, like, what? A thousand?”

Maybe it’s because you can tell that he’s upset about something, or maybe it’s because he’s so exhausted that he thinks anything that anyone says is funny.

Whichever reason it is, he’s thankful that you’ve got him smiling, even if only in spirit, and that he’s got enough strength to walk over to you, lightly knock the back of your head, and go put on his shoes.

Might as well just tell you now. 

“40.”

“Wow, I knew you were old, but I didn’t think you were that old,” you playfully prod, reorienting his wheelchair so that he can sit in it easier from where he’s already standing. “You certainly don’t look 40, though. Good for you!”

You hold it in place for him, and he rolls his eyes as he sits down. “Yeah, right, and you were born yesterday.”

“If 36 years ago counts as ‘yesterday,’ then, yes, you’d be correct.”

Levi sighs. “Let’s just fucking go.”

You laugh, lighting up the room with sunshine as you shake your head and open the door wider for wider to go through. “Whatever you say, old man.”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

In the kitchen, Levi’s earnestly caught in a daze as he watches you get everything in order for opening.

It’s calming in its own right, that he gets to watch you do what you love and see the passion with which you move with in your own space. There’s a window just above the sink, and the moon is right there where the sun will rise in a couple hours. 

True to your word, you give him something to eat. You set down a loaf of bread, some butter, and a bowl of fruit in front of him for Levi to have as a makeshift breakfast, and while he chips away at it, cautiously taking bites to be polite even if he isn’t all that hungry, he tries to think of how to ask you how he can help.

He wants to help. He really, really does. If for no other reason, his conscience is screaming at him to try and be of help, to find himself reason to say that this could be his in this life.

But you work quickly—too quickly—and Levi barely understands what’s happening as you pull out basins of all these ingredients he can’t name. Things get put in the oven, back in the freezer, covered in thin cloths. You mumble instructions to yourself as you hold what looks like an inventory card in your left hand, doing things with your right, and all Levi knows to do is watch and try to figure out what’s happening.

In a way, he’s not surprised to see that you’re not as talkative as he’d imagine, all with everything that’s seemingly on your shoulders—having to bake an entire day’s worth of inventory all on your own, taking care of bookkeeping, being swarmed with company all hours of the day.

And even though you don’t ask for anything, only smiling at him when you accidentally make eye contact with him between searching for appliances and ingredients, Levi can’t help but feel like he’s bothering you by being here, burdening you with an unuseful presence.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, now having finished a decent amount of the bread and butter you’d given him. It tastes divine, even in its simplicity, but he doesn’t have the heart to finish it.

You hum, not looking up as you turn on the culinary scale on the counter and set a large bowl on it. “Nothing I can think of in particular. Antsy to keep your hands busy?”

No, he just doesn’t want to be dead weight.

“Sure.”

You turn your face away from the counter, yawning before looking behind where you’re standing at some labeled glass containers of tea. “Think you could make some tea for me?”

Would he even know how to make anything but the bitter, boring black tea he sips in the nighttime?

He ought to at least give it a try.

“Alright.”

Your eyes scan the containers before your hand reaches out to grab one, and you lean over the countertop on your tippy-toes to push it across to Levi.

He catches it, and he turns the glass around to read the label. White Peony.

Well, he’s fucked.

“There’s a kettle over by the stove,” you tell him, settling back on your feet and walking over to the refrigerator. “Make some for yourself, too, if you want. I have plenty of other blends on the shelf”

He most definitely isn’t going to brew anything for himself, but he appreciates that, even after all this time, you still extend the offer.

He hates the fact that he still can’t accept it, though.

And he hates that you’re still wasting your effort in getting him to.

He wheels himself over to the kettle, remembering where it’d been last night when he was cleaning the kitchen, and he fills it with water from a faucet marked for drinking. Going back to the stove, he places the kettle on the heated rings, and turning the dial, he lights the flame.

He waits, staring at the flame as it licks the underside of the metal, and he follows it upwards as the water steams from the spout and draws wisps in the cold, morning air of this kitchen. The kettle whistles, and he takes it from the heat to keep it from boiling over.

Near where he’d found the kettle, there’s your personal teaware set, composed with a teapot, two cups, and a tea infuser on a tray. He stands briefly to pull it closer to himself, and after lifting the lid to the pot, he opens the container of tea you’d given him, and he holds it over the pot and the infuser.

He hasn’t got any clue of how much you’d need to flavor a pot, so he takes his best guess and puts in about as much as he would at home with the black tea leaves he uses. He tips it into the infuser, careful not to let any dried petals spill, he closes it, and gently drops it to the bottom of the pot.

He pours the hot water from the kettle over the tea, tipping the spout slowly so as to not splash it onto himself, and he puts the lid back on. On the panel above the oven, just right next to the stove, there’s a small clock, so he watches and waits for the five minutes he thinks it’ll take for the tea to finish brewing.

He looks over his shoulder to see you now, shaping buttery dough and placing it onto trays on the countertop, biting your bottom lip in concentration. There’s a swipe of flour on your brow, as well as some that’s caught on your cheek, but you look so focused that he can only assume that you’re unbothered by it.

He clears his throat to get your attention, and the furrow at your brow disappears as you look up at him. “Your tea is ready.”

“Thank you! I’ll be there in a second,” you singsong, smiling at him. “I hate to ask, but could you pour it for me? My hands are a bit preoccupied.”

He nods. “Sure.”

As he moves the teacup closer to him to remove the infuser and pour it, he hears you finish up with the bun and go over to the sink near him to wash your hands, flicking off the excess water before reaching for a paper towel. Levi’s hands are careful to not spill any tea, and when the teacup is filled he slides it closer to where you are.

He watches as you pick it up to take a sip, and he crosses his fingers in his lap that you like it.

. . .

And, because the universe is out to get him, it’s painfully obvious from the sudden downturn of your smile that you don’t.

You pull the teacup from your lips and cough, putting it back on the counter and burying your face into your elbow.

Levi has no idea what to do, the horror of the situation freezing him in place, and all he can do once the initial shock passes is reach for a napkin on the counter to give to you. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

You take it hastily and wipe at your mouth, pulling it away from your face to see if it’s collected any color. You clear your throat aggressively, and you sniffle. “Wow.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you cough again, “it’s just really strong.”

“I’m sorry, I put in as much as I use when I-”

Fuck.

He catches himself in his lie, and he’s grateful that don’t seem to notice his pause.

“When I make it for houseguests.”

You sniffle again, and you slide the teapot to yourself, opening the lid to see the rest of the brew. “Well, you better stop putting so much, or no one’s ever going to come back,” you laugh.

You pick up your cup again, and before Levi can speak up to tell you that he’d be more than happy to try again under your instruction, you take another sip, wincing afterwards.

“Why are you still drinking it?”

You take another sip before taking it with you, going back to the dough and portioning off another piece to start shaping it, your hands delicately handling it as you pat it down on the countertop. “I might as well, right?”

“I can try again, you don’t have to drink it if you’re worried about me being offended. I know it tastes like shit.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “It’s not perfect, but I don’t mind.”

. . .

You don’t?

Surely, you do, and you’re just not telling him.

He can barely stomach the thought of anything but the tea he knows—the one that’s boring, painfully strong, always the same—how could you be fine with yours being brewed so completely wrong?

“Just tell me how to do it properly, and I will.”

“It’s alright, you already went to the trouble. I can tell you put some love in it, too,” you wink, putting another piece onto a baking tray. You split off another portion of dough. “I can always make another cup for myself later, anyway. It’s not a big deal.”

“But, still, if you could just have a better cup now-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, holding up your index finger at him. “ I am the king of this kitchen right now, not you, and what I say goes.”

“But your tea-”

“And I say that this tea is completely fine, so shut up, and come help me put these trays in the oven.”

Levi feels a hiccup bubbling up in his throat, telling him to fight harder to make sure that you’re actually fine with the tea he’d brewed for you in his morning stupor, but with the way you’re looking at him, eyes shining with playful willingness, he forces himself to swallow it and just accept that he can’t force humility onto you.

Fuck.

“Fine.”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

It takes Levi nearly two cycles of the moon to come back to the bakery, meaning he returns in no more than two month’s time later.

Why he takes so long to return, you might ask?

Well, after having completely made a fool of himself by making your tea incorrectly (and the banter which took place in the thereafter), you and him worked in near silence as you got ready to finish getting ready for the day. It’s with conviction that he says he cannot remember most of it, in a rush as you gave him orders to do miscellaneous things around the kitchen and clean up little, unimportant messes.

That much of the morning was normal enough.

And, truthfully, the rest of it was too.

He’d helped you clean tables in the front, loaded up confectionaries in the display case, watered the potted herbs on the shelf with a small watering can you’d kept underneath an awning that collected rainwater. You’d given him a slice of plain cream cake, and he ate it at the table in the corner as you got to putting the potted plant by the door and finishing up with some things in the kitchen. When he’d left, you’d sent him off with a smile, a wave, and a box of chocolate tarts to bring home for the kids, secured to the back of his wheelchair in a cloth bag with white ribbon keeping it stable, and he’d tried his best to tell you in his own way that he was grateful for you affording him shelter for the evening. 

Of course, he’d been nervous as all hell all throughout, but he was fine.

Everything was fine.

And you’d never force it out of him, but it was the most at peace he’d felt in a long time, even if he did ruin your morning pot of tea.

So, really, it wasn’t anything that had happened that kept him from you.

What’d kept him from coming back was his own conscience, and its insistence that he needs to distance himself from you, for reasons he can’t name other than the nervous feeling which reaches the tips of his fingers when he thinks of you. He’d done a decent enough job at swatting away the feeling before, but it’s been gnawing at him recently in a way that’s too troublesome to ignore.

In that kitchen, with you, the clock had ticked slowly, just as it always did at that time of day, but it wasn’t at all forlorn in the way he’d learned it to be.

4 in the morning, in his world, is when his eyes will burn, and he has to force himself to search the labyrinth of his mind for happy memories to subside those less so. When his chair starts to feel uncomfortably stuffy, and he has to bear the pain until it’s too much. When he has to take a walk around the fields outside to clear his head, and he has to do it all over again when it’s 4 in the morning the next day.

4 in the morning, in your world, is when you fill the bakery with the homely smell of fresh bread, when cakes get decorated and pastries get put together. When your ribbon blows in the swift morning gale which comes through the lone window—when you’re most at peace, and, surprisingly so, when he is too—, and you get to do it all over again when it’s 4 in the morning the next day.

The evening following that time spent with you, when it’d became 4 in the morning, he had thought of you; tying on your apron with warm hands, watching the moon through glass that’s frosted over in cold, morning fog, wiping fingerprint smudges off of windowpane.

It comforted him—the thought that you were awake, too, only doing things that made you happy.

The thought that somewhere, not too far away from the world he resides in, you’re there in your own.

And he feels like he isn’t welcome there—in your world—even at your best protest.

He’s not supposed to be happy at 4 in the morning, for that’s nothing he’s ever known to be at that time of day.

Or at any time of day, really.

In the ensuing mornings, when the clock would click into place at 4:00, it was all he could think about, all he could remember, all he could feel.

And it feels wrong.

He’s supposed to be acting in remembrance—half-alive and fully-awake as he forces himself to remember his lives past lived, gripping the armrests of his chair and feeling the leather start to peel underneath his fingernails. The solace he’d found in the knowledge that you were also awake when he was eroded in the same manner the moon crescented, and it became something he’d felt shame for.

And he has no idea what to do about it—the comfort which gives way for light to reach his empty heart. He’d already experienced enough while in your presence alone; how could he allow you to do the same and worse to him even during the hours of the day reserved for only the darkest parts of himself?

Levi’s not an idiot. He knows all too well that he’s getting attached.

Which is why he chooses to stay away.

It doesn’t do much. He still thinks of you in the wee hours of the morning, how your hair had fallen over your shoulders when he’d seen it down, how you’d always leave a cup of tea out for him to try, how you’d smiled at him when he’d left that morning. He goes past the bakery every so often, seeing it in passing after going to the market for miscellaneous items he needs for the house.

But he keeps at it, willing himself to stay at his quiet little farmhouse, spending his days doing nothing of importance.

He has his tea, he gardens in the fields and sprays the insecticide he’d bought so long ago, he tries to find sleep in his chair. He makes spinach soup for the kids because they refuse to eat vegetables from anywhere but the garden they help pick from and water, and he’ll send Gabi off with some of the day’s harvest for her cousin. He’d celebrated Gabi’s birthday with her, Falco, Onyankopon, and those tarts you’d given him before he’d left, lit a candle for Moblit on his, and was forced to join the 104th at a bar for Springer’s.

So many things, all amounting to nothing.

But it’s not like he has anything else to do.

And it’s not like you would’ve missed him, anyway, now that he’s stopped coming.

What’s there about a man like him to miss?

But, in the end, he’s bound to routine and its troubles all the same, and his hands eventually find themselves pushing forward the wheels to take him back to the bakery. And maybe he could blame his heart, telling him that he needs to see you again, even if he’s sure he isn’t detached enough yet to brave the sight of you, but it’s truly without intention that he finds himself back here.

He’ll come, say a brief hello, order, and leave. That much should keep his mind at ease, his heart satisfied.

And, besides, today is his mother’s birthday.

In years past, he’d simply pour out an extra cup of tea to share with her spirit, but with how its seemingly become more commonpractice among himself and his friends to celebrate birthdays and other events more formally, he thinks he ought to get a cake for her, and he can’t imagine anywhere else he’d go to fetch that but your bakery.

As he approaches its spot at the corner of the road, he feels a squeeze in his chest, telling him for the thousandth time that he’s not supposed to be here, but there’s a tug on his heartstrings which tells him to suck it up and just brave the worse parts of his conscience.

But before he can even begin to question why, the windows are blocked with curtains he’s never seen closed before, the door isn’t propped open with an annoyingly large potted plant, and there’s not a trace of the life there’d been in the months prior before he’d stopped coming.

He remains still in his wheelchair in front of the closed door, staring up at a small sign hanging from it.

Temporarily Closed!

. . .

He feels no breeze as he rereads the words, over and over again. He knows there’s wind—his hair blows with it, prickling his eyes—but he feels none of it. He only feels as if he’s stuck there, trying to fool himself into thinking he’s misreading the sign.

It’s closed?

Maybe this is the universe telling him that he should’ve found another, more shitty bakery to get his mother’s birthday cake from.

That he should’ve stayed at home in the first place, and that he should’ve just steeled himself for long enough to lose the desire to come back.

That he wasn’t meant to come here at all.

That he’s not wanted here.

That he’s not supposed to be here.

The feeling is nearly as painful as the thought that you’ve closed shop.

What happened to the bakery?

How long is “temporarily?”

Where are you?

What’re you doing now?

How’re you doing now?

Are you okay?

He knows that he has no right to be asking in the first place, especially given the fact that he’s been absent for long enough for this to even transpire.

But-

Actually, no.

He does have no right to be asking those questions.

It’s none of his business anymore. He’s been gone for so long that he has no right to be worried.

He’ll go home, pour out two cups of that same boring black tea, and he’ll mull over all the ways he can try to salvage the faint heartbreak he feels here. It’s of his own doing that he’s found himself having missed opportunity to come here again, and it’s too late.

Just as he’s finally gotten back control of his body and is about to leave, there’s a leaf that falls in front of him, and he takes his hands off the grips of his wheelchair to catch it between his fingers. It feels crisp in his hands, like that pink ticket that’d brought him back here in the first place.

Looking up to see the plant from which the leaf had fallen, there’s long leaves of the plants above the awning and on your balcony that sway with the wind, drawing in sunlight and dripping with water. There’s a glare from a window from across the way, but because of the rust that’s lightly coating the railing, it doesn’t burn his eyes.

And he sees a white ribbon, moving alongside the zephyr.

And because his soul speaks for him, he calls your name.

The two tails of the ribbon get pulled in by hands that’re familiar to him, even after having not seen them since two moons past, and from over the raining, you appear, looking down at him.

There’s an expression he can’t read on your face as you and him make eye contact.

And you disappear, just as you’d came into view.

God fucking damn it.

He knew he never should’ve come here.

He should’ve listened to the better part of his conscience—the part that thinks with his brain, not his heart.

He should’ve kept at building the distance he’d try to foster between the two of you. The one-sided attachment he has to you should’ve been enough to tell him that he’s better off just trying to forget the last five months ever happened.

He should’ve known better.

He lets the leaf in his hands drop to the stone road, and he looks back at the door that’s still just as closed as it was seconds ago.

Well, there’s nothing else to do but go back in the direction from which he came.

He can’t even bring himself to sigh the breath of loss as he grabs hold of his wheels again, reorienting himself to head home.

He’s slow as he moves, pushing forward across stone that’s a bit bumpy and covered with strewn green. He keeps his eyes downward, shame surely evident on his features as he waits for himself to fully gain control of his body and mind again.

It’ll be okay.

He’ll find another shitty bakery to get his mother’s birthday cake.

He’ll stay home.

He’ll not come here again.

He’ll know he’s not wanted here.

He’ll know he’s not supposed to be here.

He’s broken out of his thoughts when he hears the echo of a bell ringing, and before he can look over his shoulder to see what’s the source of that sound, he feels warmth around his chest.

Arms from behind are wrapped around him, firm yet gentle, and there’s a weight on his left shoulder as a head gets placed there. He can hear labored breaths, as if someone had just come running down the stairs. There’s the faint smell of sugar and tea tickling his nose, and he feels the satin of a ribbon falling over into his lap.

”Levi!”

It’s you.

For just a second, his body tenses up, unsure of how to react to the feeling of yours against his.

And, just as soon as he’s finally begun to even comprehend the idea that he could relax into your embrace and let himself crumble under the weight of relief, you pull away from him and move to stand in front of him, your hands on your knees as you bend down to meet him at eye level.

He only knows how to stare dumbly at the you who now beams at him with a smile that reaches your eyes.

“It’s good to see you again, I missed you!”

. . .

You…

missed him?

Levi’s heart drops. “You did?”

“Of course I did!”

. . .

“Why?”

You look at him with confusion. “You came every Wednesday, why wouldn’t I miss you?”

“I’m sorry,” he manages to whisper.

You wave him off. “Don’t be, I’m just glad to see you. What’ve you been up to for the past two months?”

“...Nothing.”

“Oh, come on. An old man like you has nothing to do?” You tease playfully. “No grandkids to take care of?”

He deadpans. “Ha, ha, very funny.

“They liked the tarts you sent me off with, though. They said to say ‘thank you.’”

To the pretty lady who works at the bakery, they’d also said to pass along, but Levi isn’t going to say that.

“Tell them it’s no problem, I’m glad they liked them.”

“I will.”

You chuckle, shaking your head and standing up straight again. “So, what brings you back here today?”

“I was going to get a birthday cake, but the bakery is kind of,” he kisses his teeth, “closed.”

You hum, looking over to the blocked out windows. “Well, you’d be right about that.”

“What happened?”

“What happened to what?” You ask sarcastically. “You mean to the bakery?”

He nods.

You laugh, putting your hands into the pockets of your dress. “Funny story, it got broken into.”

Levi’s heart drops even further. “What?”

You wince, nodding. “Yeah, it was a while ago, not too long after your last visit. The bakery was closed, and some people came through and wrecked everything looking for money. Everything in the front is basically torn to shreds, and there’s still glass on the floor from when they broke the display case.”

“What fucking idiot breaks a dessert display to look for money?”

You chuckle. “The ones that robbed me, I guess. They did some real damage, though.”

“But did they find it?”

“What, the money?” You sadly smile. “Yeah.”

His heart falls to the pit of his stomach.

“...Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m here right now, aren’t I?” You laugh. “But I was out shopping for something when it happened, so I wasn’t hurt or anything.”

Thank fuck, but that's what he meant.

"But the money-"

"It wasn't all of it, just what I kept downstairs. Really, don't worry about me."

He's still going to, anyway.

He frowns. “I’m sorry. That's all horrible.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “I’ve cried about it plenty already, no real point in staying upset. I’ll be able to reopen eventually, so it’ll all be okay in the end.”

How could any of this be okay?

He frowns, hearing that you’d cried.

And it makes his heart heavier, knowing that he’d spent all this time thinking you’d been awake in the mornings baking when you weren’t doing that at all.

Knowing that he’d wasted his time being selfishly obsessed with distancing himself from you, to the point that you had missed him, even when you had plenty of other, more important things to worry about than him not coming back to the bakery.

And he only has himself to blame for him not being there for you when this’d all happened.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks cautiously.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Maybe because there’s a grief in losing your work?

“Having to close, even temporarily, sounds hard.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, I swear I’m fine,” you say, looking up at the sky.

You’re lying.

You don’t say anything else, so Levi’s eyes follow yours to the sky. He himself doesn’t really know what else there is to say, given the gravity of this, so there’s a silence, but it’s not the one that hangs overhead when Levi would come on Wednesdays. This quiet is only there because you don’t want to talk or even think about the bakery, and it’s painfully obvious to Levi that there’s something wrong.

It feels wrong, to say the least, but at least he’s not the one to confront that when, after what feels like a lifetime of cloudgazing, you clear your throat.

“Who’s birthday is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He keeps his eyes trained above, speaking slowly. “My mother’s.”

You hum. “It’s nice of you to think to get a cake for her. You’re a good son.”

Is he?

“I should let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late meeting her.”

Levi doesn’t want to go, but he knows he has to, if for no reason other than the fact that he knows he’s wasting your time by being here.

“Right,” he sighs. “Do you know any bakeries nearby?”

“I hope you know you aren’t allowed to be a regular customer anywhere else,” you joke. “When I reopen, you better come back and sit at that corner table every Wednesday again.”

He can’t say that he’ll be able to fend off the devil on his shoulder, but he’ll try his best if that’s what you’re asking of him. “No promises.”

“I guess that’s good enough for me,” you smile goodnaturedly, now looking at him. “Well, if you’re looking for a cake somewhere else, what flavors does she like?”

Did like.

In any case, he isn’t sure she’d ever had a cake in her life in the first place to have a flavor to call her favorite.

“I don’t really know. I suppose anything would be fine”

You hum. “You could try the shop three streets down. They have a bit of everything, but it’s kinda expensive.”

He hadn’t brought any more money than it’d cost to get a cake from your bakery because he didn’t want to be tempted to get something for himself while he was here.

“Anywhere else?”

“Um,” you look around, tapping your index finger on your cheek. “There’s a bakery by the clock tower at the center of the city, but I think they’re also pretty expensive because it’s owned by a company.”

He frowns. “Is anything around here affordable?”

You snort. “No, absolutely not.”

“And that’s all the bakeries?”

“...Yeah, at least all the good ones.”

Well, he certainly isn’t going to disrespect his mother and get her a bad cake.

He sighs. “It’s fine.”

Levi can just go back home and do what he always does when it’s his mother’s birthday.

He supposes that it’s tradition begging to be kept, if he can’t get a cake for her. Maybe he can stop on the way back home and grab some flowers instead-

“Actually, when do you have to meet with her?”

“What? Why’re you asking?”

“Ah, well,” you look up to your balcony, “if you could wait a few hours, I can make the cake for you. The bakery kitchen might not be available for business, but the one in my apartment works just as well.”

“What? You don’t have to do that.”

You have better things to do with your personal time than do this for him.

“Well, it’s not fair to your mother that she doesn’t have a cake on her birthday just because some small-time criminals decided to rob my bakery.”

It’s also not fair that your bakery was robbed in the first place. You don’t need to be downplaying how much it’s hurting you to have to close shop.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to-”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” you raise.

Because there is no answer. He’s not going to see his mother, and he’s never going to be able to again.

“...It’s subject to change.”

You smile. “Then it’s settled.”

“What is?”

“I’ll make you your cake.”

He frowns. “What choice do I have if you’re just going to insist anyway?”

“Well, I can’t force it into your hands, but if you came all this way already, then you must’ve really wanted a cake from me, right?”

And what’s he supposed to say to that?

No, I hate your baking, and I would rather go home empty-handed on my mother’s birthday than accept your help.

So he stays silent, and you take that as him giving in, and you flash a smile at him.

“That’s what I thought,” you start, making your way back over to the bakery door. You remain looking at him, one hand of the door handle after you’ve opened it, and he just stares back.

“What’re you looking at me for?”

“Do you want to come up and help? It’s okay if you don’t, I don’t mind delivering it to you.”

His heart breaks.

Why are you trying so hard?

“You’re really not going to change your mind, are you?”

You tilt your head in confusion, ever-oblivious to the storm in his mind. “Uh, it’d be really mean-spirited if I told you I’d make you a cake and then not give you one at all, so no, I’m not going to change my mind."

“I meant about-” he pauses, unsure.

About helping him all the time.

“Nevermind.”

“So… are you coming up or not? I can’t hold this door open forever.”

“You’re really going to waste your time like this?”

He’s sure you have other things you could be doing right now, you don’t have to do this for him.

“Levi, it’s just a cake. You don’t have to worry about the trouble.”

He finds any defense he can.

“But it’s cake for someone you don’t know.”

“I may not know her, but I know you. That’s enough reason on its own, isn’t it?”

“I just don’t think-”

“Levi,” you call, “enough of feeling sorry for me. Are you coming up, or do I need to collect your address to bring this to you later?”

Levi purses his lips.

He has no right to come up to your apartment again, to spend even more of your precious time.

Regardless of whether or not he wants to, he doesn’t know you.

All he does is stare outside a window with you, take advantage of your kindness, and will himself to come there every fourth-cycle of the moon to give himself some semblance of purpose in this life in the form of yearning and cake. He’d stopped, and now he’s back to only find himself begging his soul for the freedom to to feel his heart.

But, in the way you speak, you make it sound like you know him.

And even though he knows you don’t know him any more than he knows you, there’s nothing more he could ask for that could compare to the compassion of your heart, given to him forlorn in the way he’s never learnt it could be, even if his mind and soul are in such discord that they can’t decide whether or not that’s allowed of a person like him.

 And, in the way you’re looking at him here, practically holding out a hand to him, he can tell that you need someone.

Even if he doesn’t think he should be that someone, he’ll try his best.

It won’t be worth much, but it’s the least he can do to at least try and justify this decision to the part of himself that tells him he’s better off accepting the fact that he’s so unwholly a person deserving of even trying.

He puts his palms to metal and pushes forward, slipping past you through the gap in the door that you hold open.

He’ll put aside his own selfish, meaningless tendencies, but he can only hope to begin to accept the warmth of someone like you, who shines as brightly as the sun.

“I’ll help.”

｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

continue chapter one!

[m4delin]

QSMP Purgatory Pissa AU

There is cannabalism in this.

This takes place in an apocalyptic world, around a city that's sorta floating/suspended in the air a good 100 meters up. The elite basically controlls the city, and both for them not wanting it to become crowded and for their own entertainment they gather a group of people (criminals, people with less power than them that they don't like, etc) and basically kick them out of the city.

It's hard to live outside, anyone who breaks away from the group tends to die if they don't get accepted into another one, but the groups that have survived are often suspicious of others so it's a rare occurance.

Doesn't help that those who survive out in the wilderness tends to have gone a bit insane.

Story-wise:

The blue group is the newest batch to the outside and gets greeted by a couple of people from green team who gives them the run down of the "rules" out here. Fit gives them the heads-up, to be nice, to avoid running into the red team until they're more on their footing. "They can be a lot to handle" as he says.

The blue group finds a place to settle down on and at first it seems to be going all good, making people question why it always seemed so bad to live out here. Then they get ambushed by a purple team but before there can be too much bloodshed there's a disaster that sends the purple team hurrying away. After everything calmed down, they still have to bury 3 bodies.

After that attack, they truely start to learn the rules here on the outside.

The first time Missa encounters someone from the red team is when he enters a cave system to escape an acid storm. He figures he can get some mining resources while he's at it.

As he enters a cave he spots another person in the cave already. Now, at this point he has heard plenty of horror stories about the red team from some tense trading interactions with other teams, so he freezes in place as the gasmask turns to him. Missa barely register the masked man shouting something and he's just frozen in place as the man sprints at him, pickaxe in hand. And as it's raised, obviously with the intent to strike, Missa closes his eyes and raises his arms around his head as if it would prevent him getting killed.

There's a loud crack and there's a brief but heavy silence as Missa realizes that the loud crack didn't come from his own head getting cracked open and then there's a thud as something heavy hit the ground.

Missa opens his eyes to see the masked man take a step away from him, the pickaxe falling to his side in a casual hold. He glances behind him to see an unmoving zombie. With a sizeable hole in the side of the head.

When he looks up again, the man is surprisingly far away. The last he sees of him is a pair of wings, partial feathery and partial skeletal.

So his first encounter with someone from the red team was terrifying, but he at least survived.

His next encounter with the red is the same man. And Missa isn't sure what overtakes him, but he gives the man his freshest food, as a thank you for saving him last time. The masked man gives him a look, not that Missa can tell through the mask, as Missa nervously rambles abt the thank you. But they part way without anything dramatic happening.

Missa himself doesn't really encounter other people from the red team though he do hear stories from his team members. And they sound terrifying and yet, when he meet the masked man for the third time, he's not exactly terrified, just more like nervous.

This time he's been out looking for any new crops that can farm when he gets jumped once again by acid rain. He digs down and stumbles into a tunnel. It's not a big tunnel, barely large enough for him to sit up. Obviously a tunnel that you mostly crawl through. When Missa finally gets his bearings he realizes that the masked man is staring at him. And then the man is leaning close and Missa becomes flustered as he presses close, but it's a brief contact and the man is leaning back again. Now Missa realizes that he had closed off the hole Missa had made as he tried to get into cover. Which was a good as Missa can feel the sting from where the droplets had eaten through his clothes.

They're staying in silence for a little bit until the man tries to talk but Missa can't make out what he's saying and then he removes his mask and now Missa is throughly flustered as he looks at him with a grin. The man introduces himself as Phil and the two talk a bit as they're waiting for the rain to stop.

It's a bit of a surprise when Phil suddenly puts on the mask again but there's no hesitation in digging out of the small tunnel. Outside they wave goodbye to each other and part ways.

They keep bumping into each other and Missa just can't see why people are afraid of the red team. Not only does he meet Phil several more times, but he do meet other from team red. Sure, they can be a bit odd but everyone kept talking as if they're are a group of scary induviduals.

It's not until there's a "hunt" of sorts that Missa gets to see just how terrifying the red team can be.

"Hunts" are an event where the elite from the city decides to send some heavily armored soldiers to kill some people from the teams because they think there's been too little killing between the teams.

Green and blue teams gets jumped when they're in the middle of a discussion of how to deal with an incoming big horde of mobs. There's a lot of fighting, but at least it's not a pure massacer.

At one point Missa is scrambling backwards to get away as one soldier is raising their rifle to shoot him, and then *something* throws itself over the soldier. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognizes it as Cellbit and he's tearing into the soldier with his bare hands. And the rest of the red team is not far behind. With the help of the red team all of the soldiers gets killed (maybe some escapes) and they're safe for now.

Missa locates Phil through all of the people and finds him digging through the chest of one of the soldiers. And when he stands up, he's holding the soldier's heart in his hand. And he's staring at Missa and walks to him. He crouches in front of him and stretches out his hand holding the heart.

As Missa stares at the mask staring back at him, Phil pushes the heart closer and closer to Missa's mouth until Missa has it pressed against his lips. And as he stares into the mask's eyes he takes a bite of it, fearing what would happen if he didn't. H knows Phil well enough by now to know that the other man is smiling.

When Phil pulls the heart away, the whole red team is cheering. And Missa doesn't dare to spit it out so he swallows the bite he took.

(Missa doesn't notice how Cellbit runs over to Roier with another heart and does the same thing, the red team cheering even more. he can only stare at them as they grab some of the bodies and he knows it's for food)

Cue Missa having a bit of a crisis when he realizes that he still has a crush on Phil despite that.

[respectthepetty]

Have you ever saw a couple with an odd color match in a bl?

For example a pink x green. I mean these colors are a match in color theory and I would think they Make a good contrast when we talk about people (pink being more romantic and daydreaming while green may be someone more mature and down to earth) but we it's something rare to see?

@brazilian-whalien52, to answer your question before I mention a whole bunch of other stuff . . .

TLWR: I don't find any color-coded pair really odd if it's two different colors. I like the diversity of color coding and the stories the colors tell. The only thing I find odd is when colors are the same since that goes against the norm regarding romantic pairings, which isn't a bad thing.

I like that your example of an odd couple was pink x green, only because that coloring is reserved for friendships and family connections.

I would love to see a romantic pair color coded that way because I like different colors getting paired up, but secretly, I'm always rooting for the Purple Pretties x Brown Beauties since one is extravagant and the other is down-to-earth.

We've only gotten one pair with this actual color coding, and I desperately want more.

Which is why I'm thrilled I'm getting a new color coded pair in Wandee Goodday!

But the couples I find odd in regards to color coding are the couples with the same color (Tharn x Phaya are NOT the same color).

Quick color terms:

Hue - The main color

Tone - When grey is added to the main color

Shade - When black is added to the main color

Tint - When white is added to the main color

Visual media tells us those who share the same color are too similar to work out romantically.

So whenever I get a romantic couple who shares the same color, I get confused. For example, before the yellow was introduced in La Pluie, Tai was light blue and Phat was dark blue.

One was usually neutral blue (the main color), and the other was either a tint (white added to it - Tai) or a shade (black added to it - Phat).

So theirs really should have been a story about how even though they were soulmates, they wouldn't work romantically because they were too similar.

The same for Secret Crush on You's Sky and Jao.

Pink is not a separate color on the Color Wheel. Violet is, which is a third-level color mixed between red and purple, but pink is really a tint of red (red with white added to it).

So Jao and Sky were essentially the same color.

Which is different from Kiseki: Dear to Me's Eddie x Chen Yi who didn't have a specific color assigned to them, but just simply matched colors.

Honestly, I like when couples match colors, clothing, accessories, y todo. It's very Midwestern-family vacation vibes.

Like nothing says "we are a couple" more than matching colors, matching dog tags, and matching body pillows, you know?

As an aside: Color coding makes me really reflect on the story and what it is trying to say. For instance, I, a bisexual, am very against bi-colored characters because I want them to pick one color, but isn't the whole point of a bi-colored character is that they don't have to pick just one color? Same with same-color couples. I'm watching a queer love story and demanding different colors from each person, yet doesn't the same color reinforce the homo part of the story?

Things to think about.

[little-teacupss]

What if I love you?

Note: This isn't apart of the new Serpentwand fic I just wrote, different universe! I hope you enjoy this it'll be more angsty, but worth it in the end! Remember go show much love and support to my friends and co-writers/lorers @skellseerwriting, @brokenmilkcrates, @leoisbabygirl, @frenchgirltalya, and @giveityourworst they are my geeks and peeps and are the main reason I write 🥺

Warnings: hidden relationship, struggling with feelings, VK vs VK, worry, bruising kisses, and Morgie needs a hug.

Note 2: remember you can give criticism without being a Prick.

___________________________________________

A soft tune could be heard traveling around the enchanted forest as a periwinkle blue cloak danced through the forage. A fair skinned hand came up and rested up on one of the dark oak trees the leaves swaying beautifully in the breeze. The girl pushed herself forward and down into the small trench that was made from mother nature and her cruel yet loving touch. Dark brown eyes met a pair of ambery ones that shined in the sunlight and seemed to sparkle like a million stars had been put into them. The boy in the green shirt carefully took a step forward and gently grabbed onto the girls arms.

"I didn't think you were coming." .His voice was quivery as his grip seemed to tighten a little. Fay gave him a smile of reassurance as she brought a hand up to his face and gently trailed her nails against his cheek and jaw. "Of course I came, Morgie."

He stared into her eyes before leaning down to her and pressing his lips against her forehead and pulling her close to him his hands went from her arms to her back and traveled up to her neck and finally slotted into her hair with they tangled into her perfectly done bun that looked professional. "Don't go, not yet."

Desperation dripped from him as his grip on her hair tightened ever so slightly as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. They moved in tandem motion, slow and easy. The warmth her lips provided melted into him, making him hungrier for her. But Morgie pulled away from her, leaving Fay confused as she stared up at him, her red lips now a soft purple from their efforts. "I wish I could spend every day with you."

His words soaked into Fay and made her wish for the same two hearts yearning for each other constantly, but always having to pull away in the end. Their story was similar to Icarus flying to close to the sun only to perish in the end, but Fay thought what if Icarus was in love? In love with with someone he couldn't obtain no matter how hard he tried, but he did anyway reaching time and time again only to be cut short just before they meet. What if the sun also loved Icarus and cried for him every day only to be heartbroken in the end to see her love fall short and never fully be with her in the end.

- The next day -

The day had went by slowly for Fay as she made her way through the corridors passing random classes her hands were full with random books as she made her turn down the hall she ran into a particularly hard surface looking up and allowing her eyes to adjust she was met with a certain Casanova.

"Aye, now fairy godmother you know your wings could get clipped around here, right?" .His taunting accent made her recoil. However, the nervously little fairy wasn't about to let the pirate king stand in her way as she made a step to the left only to be cut off by him again and again. Finally, James took hold of her shoulder and brought his hook up not touching her, but slightly framing her jaw with it. "You know around these parts we make wee fairy's like you walk the plank and down to Davy Jones locker?"

James whispered menacely to her his voice was deep and teasing his brown eyes stared into hers that were stricken with terror. But before he could actually drag his hook along her cheek a sudden force pushed him up against the wall leaving Fay stood now in shock as she witnessed James be pinned to the wall by Morgie who was glaring at him hotly like Hades fire had somehow been lit inside of his eyes.

"What's gotten into you, boy!" .Hook said as he struggled against Morgie jabbing his hook into his back at times. But he didn't budge. If anything, it seemed to anger him more. He turned his gaze back to where Fay was standing. Her mouth dropped, and her features were etched with fear and worry for both James and Morgie, not wanting either one to get hurt. Morgie then turned back to glare into James' eyes, who sneered back at him, both equally pissed off and ready to start a fight. "If I ever see you near her again, you'll have to deal with me!"

And with that Morgie pushed him off and badgered him away from where Fay was stood still ranting off to him about what he'd to the pirate while James simply took in what this really meant. Wee Morgie was in love with the fairy. "You blasteredly scallywag I'll have you walk the plank!"

He yelled back at him before letting out a chuckle. It screamed of bloodthirsty promises, but James would never hurt one of his best mates, not that Morgie knew that. But he certainly loved to rile him up a bit. "Maybe I'll have another go at the fairy when your done and gone aye?"

Fay watched closely behind as the two continued to bicker clearly Hook was seeing how much of a rise he could get from Morgie which was a lot as sudden Morgie's eyes were a brilliant ambery color and random metal objects were flying at Hook on a whim all the while he simply smacked them away with him hook allowing them to clatter on the round before going at him again. Eventually James managed to slink away not before throwing another witty remark to Morgie which earned him a random vase barreling towards his head.

Once all the chaos was over Fay carefully made her way over to the fuming Morgie who stood with his arms crossed and a bitter look on his face. He tried to avoid Fay's gaze as he turned away from her allowing his back to face her. He let out a small breath as he felt a soft hand along his shoulder blade gently brushing against the green fabric as he heard a soft honey like voice whisper. "Everyone keeps telling me your the bad guy, but your not at all your my hero."

Morgie tensed a little as her hand gently tugged him to turn to face her. But what Fay didn't expect was for him to reach around carefully grabbing her wrist and twisting her around to him. As she turned to look at him, she felt a soft sensation against her lips. She felt as if part of her was engulfed by his tender lips by how roughly he had kissed her. But she returned it nonetheless. He was much rougher than usual she felt her lips slightly ache from how hard the impact had been before he pulled away. "I want to be your hero because what if I love you?"

His voice was meek and timid, almost as if he was afraid of what could happen if they went public. What people would think, what would they say? What would his family think? What would Fay's mother say? But all of his doubts seemed to wash away as she smiled up at him and nodded. "I love you too, Morgie."

___________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading this story it was a bit rushed I got very into writing today :3 and was very inspired I won't be started the prequel part two anytime soon I will however possibly starting the trapped fairy part three soon I hope you all have enjoyed my writings and remember go show love and support to my friends!

If you want to be on the tagged list just leave mail on the mailbox! :>

Tagged list: @skellseerwriting, @brokenmilkcrates, @leoisbabygirl, @frenchgirltalya, and @giveityourworst

Anyway till the next story! Ba bye!!

[vodika-vibes]

Hi! May I request an androgynous-presenting m!reader x Tech where he meets the reader at a club where they work as a dancer to get intel for a job and some… steamy stuff transpires? Perhaps with the reader and Tech being on kinda equal grounds flirtation-wise, as I always find overly blushy readers or Batch members a bit awkward.

Love your fics! Cheers!

The Dancer

Summary: You’ve been undercover as a dancer at the most well known night club on Coruscant for months now, and you’ve come to enjoy it. In part for the attention, in part for the extra money, and in part for him, Tech.

Pairing: TBB Tech x M!Reader

Word Count: 1756

Warnings: Smutty/Spicy/Steamy

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I don't use any pronouns for the reader in this fic at all, though if I had I would have used they/them pronouns. But the reader does have male sex organs. I hope this is close to what you wanted. You said steamy, rather than full on smut so I stopped before anything more happened. Please let me know if this isn't what you wanted, and I'll try again.

“Another theme night?” You ask, shivering as the cold paint is applied to your spine, “Kriff! That’s freezing!”

“Deal with it.” Ali, your friend and fellow dancer, says as he carefully paints another scale on your spine. 

“I have to wonder about the political correctness of this theme,” You continue, more to yourself than to your friend, “I mean, in a galaxy where Nautolans and Mon Cala exist, is a mermaid/merman theme really the way to go?”

“Turn around,” Ali says, as he sits back, “I need to paint scales on your neck and down your sides.”

You sigh, “I feel like a canvas.”

“That’s what we all are. Little more than canvases for the boss’s artistic vision.” Ali rolls his eyes, “He got new rings for all of us. With ‘beads that match his vision’.”

“Which means green or blue, right?”

Ali snorts, “They’re teal.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“Also, he has color spray for your hair.” He tosses a spray bottle into your hands, “Get styling.”

“This job kind of sucks sometimes.”

“Be grateful he’s going with a water theme and not the winged theme that he was originally planning.”

“Don’t remind me.” You carefully work the color through your hair as Ali paints your skin, and you’re thrilled when you both finish at the same time. 

“Don’t forget the earrings.” Ali says as he presses a new set of earrings into your hands.

“These are so tacky.” You bitch, even as you remove your simple silver studs and replace them then the teal teardrop shaped bead that hangs from a chain.

“And yet, we’re going to make bank.” Ali says, “Come on. It’s almost time to begin.” He flashes a sly smirk, “Maybe you’ll see that cute clone that’s been coming to watch you.”

“They’re all cute,” You reply with a lazy wave of your hand.

“The one with glasses.”

“What’s wrong, babe? Jealous?”

“Of you? Please. We both know I’m the pretty one.” Ali winks at you and then leads the way out of the room with you hot on his heels.

“Pretty? I think you mispronounced petty, Al.”

“I can be both.” He says with a laugh as he joins the sea of green and blue clad women and men.

You allow yourself to be swept with the throng of people, and a small smile crosses your face when you step into the club proper. As ever, it’s been totally transformed. The normal rich reds and golds, replaced with blues, greens, purples, and silvers. 

“Alright, alright.” The owner of the club climbs up onto a platform, his eyes alight with glee, “You all look amazing! You look exactly like I envisioned~” He claps his hands together, “Alright. The dancers tonight are anyone who has gold on their outfit.”

You look down at the panels of cloth hanging from your waist…blues, greens, and silvers. No gold. Guess you’re not on dancing detail tonight.

“If you have silver on you, you’re going to be wandering the floor.” The owner continues, “And anyone with bronze is a bartender or wait staff. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Ali raises a hand, he’s wearing an identical outfit to you, only with gold rather than silver, “Any special events tonight?”

“None that were cleared with me.” The owner replies, “Alright everyone, places! We open in 30!”

The crowd disperses into three distinct sections, and you head towards the door, joking lightly with some of your coworkers. You never get much intel on Theme Nights, but honestly, you’re not that bothered.

They’re fun.

Several hours later, you’re done with the night. 

Theme nights are fun, but they’re exhausting. All you want is to take a break.

Your eyes flicker across the club one more time, and then you see the one person you were hoping to see.

Tech is tucked in a booth in the back of the club, he looks kind of uncomfortable, but he also looks very curious about the employees.

Well, what kind of employee would you be if you let him remain curious. A sharp grin crosses your face, as you abruptly turn and weave through the crowd of people.

“Well now, color me surprised.” You joke as you lean your hip against the silver rimmed table. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Tonight of all nights.” 

Tech’s head snaps up, and he blinks at you, startled. 

His gaze flickers across the paint decorating your arms, sides, and chest, and then drops to the gauzy, floaty material hanging from your waist, and then his gaze snaps back to your face.

“You invited me.” Tech says, matter of factly, his gaze dropping back to the paint low on  your hips, “It would have been rude of me to not come.”

“Sure, sure.” You grin at him, your eyes sparkling, “Like the paint?”

“Yes.” Tech replies honestly, “It is very attractive.”

You laugh, “Have I ever mentioned how much I love your honesty?”

Tech’s lips twitch into a smile, “Not recently.”

“Shame. You should visit more often so I can heap praise on you.”

“I am afraid that you will make my ego swell.” Tech says as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Just your ego? Pity.” You say, once he’s taken a sip.

Tech chokes on his drink, “You,” He coughs, “You did that on purpose.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Of course not.” The sarcasm just drips from his voice, and you grin at him, “You know,” Tech notes after a moment, “My brothers say that you are a bad influence.”

“I don’t really care about what your brothers think.” You counter with a shrug, “I care about what you think. So, Tech, do you think I’m a bad influence?”

Tech gaze drops to your lips, to your chest, to your hips, “The worst.”

You grin at him, “You know there are private rooms available, right?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“You know that it is.”

Tech glances away from you for a moment, “I…probably should not.”

“Why?”

“My brothers will not approve of any of this.”

You lean over the table, and hook your finger around the collar of his shirt, “I told you,” You say with a sharp smile, “I don’t care what your brothers think.”

Tech obviously wars with his indecision, and you decide to give him one more push, “If you’re really not willing, Tech, I won’t make you. But you know that anyone here can buy my time, right?”

Tech frowns, “Yes. I know.” He glances at his datapad for a moment, seeming to read a message on the screen, and then he stands. “I think I would like a private room.”

“A fine choice, sir.” You reply gleefully, “This way.” You lead him through the crowd of people, until you reach the quieter part of the club, where the private rooms are located.

Three of them are being used, but the one on the end isn’t, and that’s where you lead him. You open the door, and adjust the time so that the charges will be applied to you, rather than him, and then you move to the side to let him in the room.

You’re careful to lock the door, and then, promptly, drop onto one of the plush chairs with a groan. “That’s much better.” You say as you rip the ridiculous looking sandals that you were forced into off your feet and toss them to the side.

Tech settles next to you, and for one, he’s not even glancing at his datapad, instead his gaze is locked on you. 

“See something you like?”

“May I touch you?”

You arch a brow, “If you like.”

His rough, calloused hand lands on your chest, and lightly tracing the painted scales, he looks surprised. They’re not coming off.

“I have to use special soap to wash the paint off.” You explain as you allow him to push you to your back on the couch. “It’s about as much of a pain as you expect.”

Tech’s hands trace down your torso, lightly tracing the paint as it makes its way down your body. “How far down does the paint go?”

You arch a single brow, “Why don’t you look and see?”

Tech’s hands hesitate low on your stomach, and then, with surprising swiftness, he unfastens the belt holding the panels of cloth on, and he carefully sets it to the side.

The trunks that you’re wearing are low cut, intentionally so to allow for as much skin to be painted as possible, and you settle back on the couch as Tech’s hands drift lower and lower. 

He swallows, hard, “Does the paint go under-”

Truthfully, yes. Ali’s something of a perfectionist, so you are actually completely covered in paint, but rather than telling him that, you just smirk, “I’m not telling. If you wanna know, you have to see for yourself.”

Tech’s gaze locks with yours, “You do not think I’ll do it.” He accuses as he rubs small circles against your skin with his thumbs.

Honestly, his touch is starting to make it hard to think, and you can feel yourself hardening. Of course, you have no shame, and if Tech’s noticed he hasn’t said anything about it. 

“You think so?”

Tech keeps his gaze locked on yours as he hooks his fingers under the waist of the shorts, and he tugs them down sharply. His gaze drops from your face, and trails down to your now achingly hard cock.

It, like every other part of you, has been carefully painted. And Tech’s face twitches. 

He trails a light finger across the paint decorating your cock, and you twitch, a low hiss falling from your lips, “You let someone paint you.” He sounds jealous and you laugh.

“Jealous, Tech?”

“Annoyingly, yes.”

You smirk at him, smugly. 

“You are incredibly annoying.” Tech announces as he wraps his hand around the base of your cock and gives you a firm stroke, pulling a curse from your lips and causing your hips to twitch.

“I’m not the one teasing.” You reply. “I’m also not the one still fully dressed.”

Tech pauses, midstroke, and then he leans down and crashes his lips against yours. What starts out as a heated kiss, becomes softer and more needy the longer it goes on, and you reach around him to tangle your fingers in his hair at the base of his skull.

“I…” Tech breathes against your lips, “I want you. Need you.”

And you laugh, “You have me, Tech.”

[autisticdonni]

Of The Ocean

platonic yandere tmnt boys (2018) / mutant reader (gn)

Part 2/??? 

Part 1

Requests are open, write in the comments if you’d like to be tagged when the next part comes out. 

TW: Stalking, self-hatred, mistaken identity, yandere themes. Though this work is SFW, minors please watch out for potential adult themes! 

RECAP: You sat there, huddled in a ball in what must have been your only safe space as voices spoke above you. Too scared to listen, you stared out of the neck hole and saw a pair of three-toed feet step in front of it. Then, the mutant crouched down, so you were face to face. This one was smaller and must have been the one to tackle you. His face was round, and partially covered in an orange bandana. He grinned at you, and you shrunk further into yourself. Great. You were surrounded. 

Thank you everyone who’s left kind messages below the first post! I can’t directly respond to them, as this is a side blog. I read all of them, and they make my heart feel full! 

Curled up in your shell, you stared out the hole where you head went as time dragged on. The orange turtle mutant hadn’t really moved from his space, his eyes squinting as he struggled to make out your features in the darkness of your shell. 

“Great, Mikey!” The red mutant scolded, “you scared ‘em! Here, back off,” a large, clawed hand gently shoved the orange turtle away, who let out a squawk of protest but didn’t fuss too much as his spot was taken. 

Those same hands gently wrapped around the sides of your shell and effortlessly scooped you up into a strong embrace. You churred anxiously from your little hideout, and the turtle paused his movements. 

“I’m sorry,” Red said quietly, peeking into the hole of your shell, “I really didn’t mean to scare you like that-are you okay?” He turned his head this way and that, trying to get a better look into your shell. 

You didn’t respond. Something instinctual in the back of your brain had woken up since you’d been chased. You saw this mutant for what he was; a predator. His teeth were sharp, and with how broad and big he was you hazard a guess that he must be some type of snapping turtle. 

When you didn’t reply, he frowned slightly, “come on!” He coaxed, trying a crooked smile that showed off his sharp snaggle-tooth, “old Raphie’s not that scary!”

“Why don’t you try putting them down?” Another one of the mutants snarked, “I mean, I’d be scared out of my shell if I got picked up by a stranger!”

There was some bickering back and forth before the red mutant finally set you down. The second your shell touched the concrete, you burst out of your shell and scrambled away from the group of mutants. 

“Whoa, whoa!” The mutant with the blue mask nervously laughed, holding his hands up, “no need to get all skittish, we’re not gonna hurt you!”

You stumbled to your feet, eyes narrowed on the turtles, “you just fucking chased me, of course I’m gonna be skittish!” You shot back, your shoulders hunching as you took in the four turtles around you. 

Big red, or Raph, stood closest to you. He was just as big as he was a few seconds ago. His hands were held out in front of him in a placating motion, a sort of worried twisted smile on his face. 

Next to him was the turtle with the orange mask. His skin was a cooler green, mottled with dark orange spots. His smile was bigger, and he kept on shifting from foot to foot like he was just holding himself back from pouncing on you again. 

Next to them, were two similarly sized turtles. Blue and purple. Blue slowly put his hands down to his side, a charming sort of smile on his face as he took you in. 

Purple, on the other hand, looked completely nonplussed. His arms were crossed, and he didn’t look at you for more than a few seconds before he quickly looked away in a sort of flustered panic. 

“Just,” you swallowed, your mouth felt dry and thick as you took a few shuffling steps backwards. Though none of them moved, you got the feeling that they would have no problem with lunging after you if needed, “just let me go, okay? I don’t know what kinda weird fuckin’ club you have going on, but I’m just trying to go home.”

“Then we’ll take you home!” Orange chirped jumping on his toes, “it’ll be a fun adventure!”

“I can get home on my own,” you said through gritted teeth, taking another step back. Your shell hit the rough brick of the wall behind you and you flinched at the harsh brick on your leathery shell. It felt sore, more sensitive than anything you had ever really experienced before. 

Your discomfort must have shown on your face, because Blue’s face dropped when he saw your pinched expression. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, taking a small step forward and reaching out towards you. You hissed at him, but it didn’t seem to dissuade him a whole lot. His hand rested on your arm. 

His hand was cold, but it was soft as it slowly wrapped around your wrist. Part of you wanted to jerk back, but there was no space for you to properly move away from him. 

“I’m fine!” You snapped, but your voice wavered. Something about them made your skin crawl and your stomach feel like it was tying itself up into knots. His hand held on tight to your arm, pulling gently on your arm to try and pull you closer to him. 

“You’re hurt,” Blue said, “at least let me look at your shell? You, you’re a softshell, right?” His smile twitched, hovering more on the hysterical side now, and his grip refused to weaken. 

You kept your mouth shut. Your instincts were proving to be right, as the look in his eyes went from something you might have thought to be caring to downright frenzied. 

“Everything is gonna be okay,” Raph soothed from where he approached at Blue’s side, “I know you’re scared, but we can get out of this together, okay?”

Raph smiled hopefully at you, making encouraging motions as blue pulled you closer to his plastron, “we’re gonna get you back to our lair, get you all patched up, and then we’ll all be happy, okay?”

You let Blue pull you closer to him, which seemed to work as his eyes glimmered with a sort of hopeful look. You felt his grip slacken, and in that moment raised your other arm and punched him right in the throat. 

He let out a yelping gag and fell back, and the three other turtles erupted into chaos. You ran, faster than you thought you ever could. Dodging and weaving through the three mutants, you slipped under the purple one’s outstretched arm. 

Just as before, you ran. Scrambling through the streets of New York now with four mutants on your tail. With your lack of experience in chases, they were quickly catching up to you. You could practically feel their breath on your shell as you burst out from an alleyway and found yourself in a place you recognized well. 

The pier! You could’ve cried at the sight of it! 

The thought of water rushing all around you made your heart jump. You slid underneath the handrail and tossed yourself off of the concrete pier and into the bay. 

The rush of cold water hit you like a bullet, and you opened your eyes to see that the water was much clearer than you had previously thought. Perhaps it was because of your mutation, but now you could see everything almost perfectly. 

There was a loud splash behind you, and you whirled around to see that Purple had jumped inside too. He looked furious as he darted towards you with surprising speed. You kicked out your legs, and found that you moved just as fast, if not faster, than him! 

Purple darted and weaved through the water, trying to curl behind you to grab you. You swam like you’ve never swam before, clawing at the water and roughly kicking whenever purple got too close. 

Deeper and deeper the two of you swam into the bay, passing through the murky water like twin bullets swirling around one another. Each swipe from Purple was strong enough to knock you off balance as you struggled to keep away from him. Your lungs were burning with the need for air, and you started to swim upwards towards the surface. 

Purple followed you like a bloodhound, no matter how you twisted and tried to throw him off of your trail, those dark eyes stayed on you. As you breached the surface, Purple’s hand wrapped around your ankle and yanked you back into the water. 

You choked on the water, grasping your throat as you struggled to cough the water from your lungs. Purple’s face was blurred from the bubbles that left your mouth, but you felt him dragging you deeper and deeper into the depths of the bay. 

Just as your vision started to fade, Purple wrapped his arms around you and slammed his body into a thick metal grate. The metal whined with age, and then warped as it caved in. The two of you fell inside a large pipe. 

Your head crested above the water with a wheezing cough as the water yanked and pulled the two of you along. Purple held onto you stubbornly, his thin but muscular arms wrapped around you so tight you thought your shell would crack!

Finally, the pipe angled downwards and the two of you fell down into a deep pool of water. You fell with a shriek, holding onto Purple out of fear as he dove down into the water again and slipped into yet another pipe. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held onto Purple as he swam through pipe after pipe until the two of you broke water again. He hefted you up onto the concrete platform, where you laid. Exhausted and panting, you struggled to get your hands under you and push yourself up. 

Purple heaved himself out of the water, panting just as hard as you were. You felt his hand grab you by the tip of your shell and heft you up onto your feet. 

“Are they okay?” Orange’s worried voice had you weakly looking up to find the other turtles standing in a circular doorway that led to another section of whatever underground lair this was. 

He wrung his hands worriedly in front of him, jogging over to your sopping wet form. He squatted down beside you, his lips pursed in worry as you coughed up a lungful of sewer water. 

“They’re fine,” Purple snapped, “Leo, take them. I think they got roughed up on the way down.” He let go of your shell, but before you could fall a pair of arms wrapped around your middle and pulled you up into a princess carry.

Looking up weakly, you saw it was Blue who was holding you. He grinned, a sort of triumphant look on his face as he set off walking further into the lair with you weakly curled in his arms. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad!” Leo cooed, “if you’d just cooperated, then you wouldn’t be injured, now would you?” When you didn’t answer, he just smiled and nuzzled his nose on the top of your head in a soothing motion as he carried you along.