#i need to draw something like what you described but i might pass away

[kelpiekidd]

Johnny Boy's Bones

I might just be talking out of my ass. But something that’s been lingering on my mind lately is the aftermath of Arthur’s death on that cliffside. Specifically, how long Arthur’s body may have remained there before Charles found him—if he even found him at all.

I see a lot of fanart and fiction often depicting Charles finding Arthur’s body within hours or days of his passing, and giving him a proper burial. But when I was revisiting the later chapters of the game, I was reminded that Charles left the gang to help the Wapiti tribe. He had no way of knowing exactly when or how Arthur’s end would come, only that the gang’s days, and Arthur’s, were numbered.

Realistically, Charles may not have stumbled upon Arthur’s remains for weeks, maybe even months. By then, time and nature would have taken their toll. Left exposed to the elements, scavengers would likely have picked Arthur’s body clean, leaving behind only bones. Rain, wind, and sunlight would have further eroded what was left, leaving a weathered skeleton, possibly unrecognizable as the man Charles once knew.

The game itself offers a glimpse of what a decayed body looks like in its world. Arthur occasionally stumbles upon long-abandoned homesteads or corpses, their identities erased by time, with only bones and scraps of skin or hair remaining.

Imagining Charles finding Arthur in such a state is heartbreaking. I can’t help but picture the overwhelming guilt he’d feel, seeing his friend reduced to a pile of remains, knowing Arthur had died alone and was left without a proper burial.

At this stage of decomposition, Arthur’s body would have already begun to return to the earth. The natural process of decay means that as soft tissues break down, they nourish the surrounding environment. Fungi and bacteria consume what remains, transforming flesh into nutrients for plants and animals. Perhaps, by the time Charles arrived, Arthur’s body was already entwined with the landscape—grass and wildflowers sprouting where his blood had soaked into the soil.

It’s a grim yet oddly beautiful image. Arthur Morgan, a man who spent so much of his life trying to redeem himself and do right by others, becoming part of the natural world he loved dearly. A man who gave everything he had to the people he saw as family. Always giving, giving, giving. Until there is absolutely nothing left but his body, and yet he gives that to the Earth too.

I imagine Charles, determined to honor his friend, carefully gathering what remained—bone fragments, perhaps even a few lock of Arthur’s hair and bits of clothing. Wrestling with the forces of nature to reclaim his friend from the earth. Despite the difficulty, Charles would have ensured Arthur’s remains were laid to rest properly, in a place where the flowers could bloom in his memory, and the earth could cradle him in peace.

Call me morbid, but there’s something hauntingly beautiful about this idea: that Arthur, a man shaped by the rugged wilderness, would ultimately be reclaimed by it. His story, his legacy, and even his physical form returning to the land he roamed freely.

Don’t even get me started on his reincarnation as a Buck.

[oceaneyesinla]

I feel crappy so of course I have to make a character infinitely soft and Shoto is the blorbo I have chosen. He might be too soft but honestly I'm happy with how this turned out

CW: themes of mental illness (none explicitly stated but implied)

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Shoto knows something is wrong as soon as he lets himself into the apartment. The lack of you at the door, fluttering around him with your wide smile and cheerful chatter only makes the quiet of the apartment louder, and he's worried. Your texts throughout the day had been missing that usual spark, and had stopped all together as the day progressed.

He has a feeling he knows where you'll be, so he sheds the outer layers of his hero costume, leaving it all neatly by the door. He shucks off the rest in the laundry room, swapping into sweats and a t-shirt. If he deliberately picks the one with a stupid design that he knows always makes you giggle; well, that's between him and the washing machine.

The apartment still looks the same as when he left, and the observation only makes that little knot of worry tighten in his chest as he makes his way to your bedroom. A peek into the kitchen as he passed had already told him you probably hadn't eaten.

He pushes the door open and he finds you exactly where he expects to - a little ball, curled up on his side of the bed, wrapped around the plushie he won for you back when you were still just friends pining desperately for each other.

You're facing the door and when you see him, you try so hard to smile, but he knows you better than that. He knows the way your eyes crinkle and the shape of your lips and the sunshine that he swears he can feel when you look at him. This isn't that smile. It isn't even the smile you throw his way in the tenderest of moments; the one that melts his heart and makes him wish he was better with his words because you deserve nothing short of masterworks to describe his devotion to you.

No, this is the smile for when you're trying to reassure him. Trying to hide your own pain or worry or heartache for his sake. It's a valiant effort, but one he picks apart in an instant. Your lips don't turn up as much as they should, and the light of your happiness is absent from your world weary eyes.

Just as he knows your smile is a mask, you know he's already lifted it away to uncover what lies beneath. He watches as your smile falls away and the tiredness in your eyes spreads across the rest of your features. Crossing the room takes seconds and he kneels next to the edge of the bed, smoothing your hair away from your forehead with one hand and reaching for yours with his other. As soon as he laces your hands together, you're holding on like you're scared he'll leave. Never. Not when you're the brightest star in his sky, even on your darkest days.

He's not sure what's triggered this and he's almost certain you don't know either. He leans in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead and when he pulls away, he catches the sheen of a tear making its way from the corner of your eye.

"Bad day?" He keeps his voice soft and his hold on your hand tight. His words seem to shake something loose in you and more tears begin to fall as you nod. He brushes them away with a thumb before he moves, shifting you so you're sitting up and he can wrap his arms around you, cradling you against his chest.

You don't cry for long, but he makes sure you're settled, relaxed into his hold with one of his hands stroking up and down your back before he speaks again, murmuring his words against the crown of your head, "You need to eat. Do you want to stay here or come with me to the kitchen?"

Your arms tighten around him and when you pull away to meet his eyes, there's a hint of a pout on your lips. That draws a little smile from him; a hint of sunshine peeking through the clouds of your sadness. You always want him closer; never shying away from open adoration and he would never get tired of your hands and your eyes and your lips finding him in every room and every lifetime.

Lifting you up into his arms is easy, and your legs settle around his waist like they have a thousand times, your head resting against his shoulder, "Okay. We'll eat, then we can talk."

This time, your smile is barely there, but there's a flicker of your usual light behind it, "Okay." You fall silent as he carries you to the kitchen and he's caught off guard when your lips brush against his jawline, "I love you, Shoto."

Your murmured confession is soft and sweet and only reinforces what he knows in his soul, "I love you too."

He sets you on the counter and begins to move around the kitchen. He can feel your eyes on him and when he looks at you, he knows you'll be just fine - because he will always be there to soften your fall.

@pixelcafe-network

[arliedraws]

I've seen your posts about AI. I also know it's a pretty polarizing topic and what the majority opinion is, especially in regards to art and writing. And being an artist myself, I totally agree that it sucks, like you have to pay attention and all, but.... I hardly dare to say this because I know how emotional the discourse around AI is, especially on a platform like tumblr, which sometimes seems so strong that I don't participate in a discussion about this topic at all because I feel like people here would hound me for it, but I still use different AI software, but not in the way that I use it to create something that I can publish and pretend that I spent hours creating it myself. I think it can be really helpful.

If I need information about something quickly, it's more efficient than spending a lot of time searching different websites for a particular piece of information.

I also like to think of it as a group member when I'm working on projects. That doesn't mean that I get the ideas from it and then just copy them. In the same way that group work is beneficial, you pass the ball to each other with the AI and exchange ideas that you can then develop further. Or it can help you if you're looking for another word to describe something better, like a dictionary. And I still know how to use real dictionaries or do proper research, because I know that AI can make mistakes and you shouldn't believe everything. Just like it is with information from the internet in general. Anyway, now I come to the actual “confession”, which is that I also use it, not to let the AI create the art, but as a tool to help myself creating it. I usually use reference images for drawings to help me get the scene itself or the anatomy correct etc. Andy capture it properly. But sometimes I have a very specific scene in mind and can't find a suitable reference, and it can take me hours to find something that fits. So I like to use AI to create that reference for me, because unfortunately I don't have people modeling for me and personally it helps me extremely to have examples to work from.

Idk where exactly I'm going with this. But since the general opinion on generative ai seems very clear here, I wanted to finally get this off my chest because I always kept my moth shut being afraid of how others might react, even though I think that my methods are still quite legitimate, as I still do the real work myself. Anyway, I'm looking forward to your opinion.

Ahhhh okay, well, thanks for the vulnerability here.

You know my opinion on AI. I’m not going to tell you you’re a terrible person or anything for using it, but I’m also not going to justify your personal decisions. Instead, I invite you to change your perspective.

My opinion is this—and it’s more of a question: why are you creating the art? I’m going to hit a few of your main points and just pose questions because I think this gets to be more philosophical than a cut-and-dry “if you use AI, you are a bad guy.” Because I don’t think that—I also don’t think you should use it.

The reason I don’t blame people for being attracted to using AI is because as human beings, we’re designed to find the most efficient way to do things. Thinking and using creativity is a huge caloric expenditure. Right? Naturally, we’re attracted to ways that things can be done FOR us and reduce our cognitive load. Your brain is working as it was designed! But this is also a really cool way to take away your voice and mold you into someone who cannot think for themself.

(This is also what you’re doing by “confessing” to me. You’re unloading your cognitive/emotional burden so you can keep on doing the thing you know is probably a bit shady.)

First of all, I don’t know you, so I don’t know what your art training is. However, you need to train your brain to start coming up with stuff on your own. I am really sorry, but I don’t buy the “I don’t have enough references.” When there are free resources like Unsplash.com and even just looking at buildings around you, the furniture in your house, etc, you DO have the references. But you need to learn how to use them. This is a tool.

Second thing, if the reference isn’t exactly what you need, then you need to start learning volume and shapes. You need to study anatomy. Eventually, you will be able to look at a reference and understand how perspective works and be able to transform a reference in your head to what you need. OR - start combining references. If I’m doing a full scene, I probably have about 5-6 reference photos I’m working from. This is a tool.

Third, start taking photos of yourself for reference images. If you can’t find what you need, do that. I periodically have to go into my camera roll to delete the god-awful reference poses for myself. This is a tool.

Fourth, start a collection of things that “strike you.” Start a reference blog. Have a folder filled with images that intrigue you. Personally, I take an insane number of photos when I’m traveling. For example, I went to a mansion for a tour and took photos of all the early 20th century objects and rooms so I would have these in my arsenal. This is a tool.

My fundamental question is this—why are you having an algorithm create what’s in your head for you? Why not learn how to do these things instead? Your imagination is so cool. The process of creating is making happy mistakes. What do you think Bob Ross would say to you? When you use AI, you’re just copying. The imaginative part has been done for you. You’re just a tool of the robot.

We do so much to avoid frustration, but frustration is the part of creating. When we can see the skills we need to learn, that’s how we know we’re improving. It means you’re trying, and when you press through that discomfort, that’s when you grow. Stop seeing this as a block to your end goal but as an opportunity to continue your infinite journey as an artist. Celebrate that there are so many beautiful things to learn.

Additionally, please don’t see AI as a group project. A group project indicates that all parties involved consent to participate, and I know most artists do not want their art to be used in this way. Imagine if you learned to do all the things I’ve described above and taken time/years/frustration/love to develop these skills, and someone years later then took your work and said “It’s okay - we ALL contributed to this.” It’s just not true.

The artists you see online don’t simply sit down and draw a bunch of cool stuff without practice. I watch Youtube videos of professionals. I draw a gazillion sketches of just MOUTHS or hands so I can create my own references in my mind. Why would you deprive yourself of this?

Look, I think it comes down to this: if you’re looking for efficiency and ‘getting it done’ quickly, then why are you doing it? Are you enjoying the process? If you aren’t, why are you even doing it?

If you need a robot to imagine something for you, then you don’t actually want to do it.

[howlingmod]

Hello mod, may I request something cutesy for Skateboard x reader?

summary - skateboard x reader, reader is from blackrock and is described as being a little bit messed up from it (not detailed)

misc - hi i seen this request and got so excited i love skateboard ... 1million tripmine attack go

-Skateboard hadn't really been looking to make any new friends when he'd stumbled onto you. It'd been late at night and he was dead tired, having spent the entire day in the blistering heat of day. He was really just looking to go home when he'd seen you.

-It wasn't uncommon to see people lost in Playground, especially people from other regions. It was less common to see someone frantically pacing back and forth with a stuffed full suitcase and what was very obviously a Blackrock-style uniform talking about getting hunted for sport.

-Initially, the uniform had put him on edge. He phights Subspace and Hyperlaser all the time and he's seen plenty of people from there pass through Playground, and it wasn't often they had good intentions. There was something different about you, though, your panic didn't seem manufactured to draw someone in, it felt unnervingly genuine. Blackrock isn't exactly known for letting its residents easily slip out whenever they want. if you really were some kind of runaway, you definitely had reason to be freaking out.

-Against his better judgement, he approached you.

"Hey man, are you ok?" Skate asked cautiously, taking a few steps closer to you. He kept his distance, he wasn't sure what kind of gear you might have and he wasn't looking to phight right now. Your head had whipped towards him the moment he'd stepped into the alley, wide eyes darting over his figure. He certainly didn't look like the type to be affiliated with the faction. Besides, to be entirely honest, an alley was a pretty terrible place to hide. For any Blackrock authority with an itchy trigger finger (most of them, you noted bitterly), it was the perfect place to solve a runaway. "Hello...?" You blinked, remembering he'd asked a question. "O-Oh, um... Yeah I'm- I'm fine," you stammered, hastily smoothing yourself out and ripping your eyes away. Any attempt at looking casual was soaked in anxiety. "Right, Right," he didn't believe you at all, "You mind telling me what's up then?" You kicked at the ground a few times, scuffing up already worn workboots out in an attempt to shake your nerves. You couldn't meet his eyes for more than a glance. "I'd rather not." Skate paused for a few moments. Maybe it's exhaustion talking, but you really didn't seem like much of a threat. If you were trying to bait him into getting close, it seemed counterintuitive to be acting so guarded. This didn't feel like an elaborate scheme, it just felt like a genuine moment of crisis. Before he could say anything, you spoke up again. "Listen I just- Do you need something? I really don't know why you're talking to me." You were struggling to keep your voice firm, but you couldn't afford to let your voice wobble over the edge and into tears. "Hey, just calm down. I wanna help you, ok?" This could have been a stupid move, but he took another few steps closer, one arm holding his board and the other raised in a show of pacifism, "I'm sorry if I was freakin' you out with all the questions. Do you have anywhere to go?" You bit the inside of your cheek, mentally debating if you really wanted to put this onto a stranger. On one hand, it was just humiliating for you. On the other, it was a risk, he might be playing nice now but he could sell you out in a heartbeat. "No." "Alright, well how about you come with me?" He was quick to clarify when you glanced at him, "You can stay with me until you find a place! Or, I could try and find some hotel nearby, I guess ..." He trailed off, talking more to himself than you. Part of you was screaming to run the other way, as far as you knew this guy had you totally figured out and was ready to use the situation to get whatever it was he wanted. He could blackmail you, rat you out, ruin every chance you have at a new life. You can't just pick up and keep running if he tries anything, this guy was clearly from here, far more familiar with the bustling city than you were. Despite all this- "Please."

-It was a pretty long adjustment period. Skate was a little too casual and open for your paranoid mind to comprehend and you were a little too guarded and mysterious for Skate to trust you fully. You were so unfamiliar with Playground's culture, the lively and crowded atmosphere was a stark contrast to the utilitarian lifestyle you were accustomed to. There was little you could do other than try and bully forward.

-It was the little things that made Skate warm up to you. You always insisted it was out of politeness whenever he'd confront you about how nice the place looked or how there was leftovers for him when he got home. You would get wrapped up in something and you would start talking to yourself, walking through all the different steps and alternatives in a long ramble under your breath. Despite the exterior you were putting up, there was clearly some life to you yet.

-Sometimes he would tease you about it, but he was surprisingly strategic. He'd annoy you just enough to get you to glare at him and then back off for a while, returning the favor by bringing home snacks and takeout for the two of you in an effort to draw out more of that humanity. Besides, you could really use the food. The day he noticed most everything you made for yourself was just whatever used the least amount of resources was the same day he shoved most of his portion over to you without a word.

-Neither of you really noticed how you opened up to one another. Slowly you two stopped sitting on opposite sides of the room until you spent nights laying on one another watching bad tv. Admittedly, he might've gotten the first hint at his crush for you the first time you fell asleep on him. Sure, it was just plain cute, but it meant something more knowing it was you, the same person who used to run off to go eat by yourself every night and stuck to the corners of a room.

-He noticed your quirks become more apparent, little references and phrases he'd never heard before suddenly littered your every word. You spoke more openly, though you still had a tendency of not talking unless he said something that absolutely called for it. He didn't mind, he was usually the more chatty one in his friendships anyway. He just liked getting an excuse to tell you about all the phights he's been in and all the (more lighthearted) things his gang was up to. At some points, the lines between fabrication and reality in his stories blurred for whatever reason. He didn't mind that either, so long as you were laughing or drawn in by what he was saying.

-You weren't into the idea of phighting yourself, it was just a little too much for you. Besides, even the idea of seeing Hyperlaser or Subspace again on the battlefield of all places made your stomach churn. Instead, he'd just gotten you into play wrestling with him. You were stronger than he'd been expecting, though he probably should've known you would be considering your background. He didn't have to take it easy on you, only really holding back for the sake of not breaking anything.

-It was cliche, but there was some time where you'd won and managed to shove him down and keep him there and all the admiration he' been building up for you overflowed and left him looking up at you with some dumb grin. You were smiling back, something you'd only recently really started doing again. He liked to think it was because you were comfortable here with him, you would agree.

"Hi." "Hey." He laughed again, a nervous habit you often poked fun at, "You're really pretty, you know that?" You'd burnt up at that, laughing a little yourself as you stared down at him, "Where's this coming from?" "I dunno, just been thinking it." "You're weird." "Do you like me weird?" You snorted, halfheartedly swatting him one more time before pushing yourself back up. "Of course." "That's good, I like you weird too," the moment he'd finished his sentence, you were already pouncing on him again.

[puckpocketed]

5/08/2023 - Berkly Catton captains Team Canada to gold at the Hlinka Gretzky Cup, leading the tournament with 8 goals and 2 assists in 10 games || 19/01/2024 Meet the Future - Berkly Catton named Team White's captain for the CHL/NHL Top Prospects Game || 5/07/2024 - Berkly Catton signs his ELC with the Seattle Kraken

Introduction, quotes/transcripts/bits and pieces under the cut!

I can't even begin to describe how jazzed I am that Berkly Catton got drafted to a team I already love. I wrote in my Sharks off-season roundup that I was hoping against hope Catton would drop to 14th overall (back before we had moved up to 11th) and the Sharks would snap him up, as unlikely as it was that they'd try to gather more firepower when we sorely needed defensive prospects. I'm so glad I got my wish one way or another <3

Krakenblr you will LOVE this dude. He's such a star. Such a character. Berkly Catton is so, SO fun to watch. You have no idea!!! I followed him in the months leading up to the draft because there was buzz that he might be available lower down because of the Height Issue (he is, tragically, 5'11 <- which makes him undraftable unfortch) + concerns with how his game will translate to the NHL level. He is an electrifying playmaker. He's so creative, throws in so many fakes, WILL break ankles, very good hands... ough <3 everything I personally love to see in a forward all rolled into one neat little package !!!

There's the suggestion that he's been "over-scouted," which really just means they've all been watching him so long they're probably overthinking things and looking for stuff to critique. I'm inclined to believe this take over the other one because I'm an optimist and he was one of my little guys going into the draft! I won't include more of that here, but there's plenty of material out there if you'd like to look for it.

Below are some of my favourite bits and pieces from media he's appeared in <3

“I don’t like to give it away (pause) but I look at guys before games,” Catton revealed. “What’s weird is going from midget to junior hockey is a big jump. Last year I was learning. This year I wanted to add stuff. My pregame stuff and to look at guys doing draws and seeing what works. That’s pre-scouting on my end. If a guy has a certain move, and you can trump it early, it gets in his head a little bit. That helped quite a bit.”

“I think I sometimes have a problem with passing the puck too much. I love seeing my teammates score and setting up for an open net. It’s one of my favourite things in hockey, if not my favourite,” Catton admitted. “That’s something I can work on. When I get a chance put it home kind of thing. I got better this year at it’s still something I’d like to improve. Honestly, I’m a pass first mentality guy I would say.”

- Berkly Catton’s video scouting has improved his overall game

You know, when I first read and saved this article I was like; this prospect who reviews VIDEO is gonna haunt me. That's my weakness btw, I'm freak4freak. If you tell me a hockey player is also deeply infatuated with the game to the point of reviewing tape in their free time that's IT for me. it's JOEVER. i have a type and i know it <3 also wowie a pass-first guy who gets really really happy when his teammates score??? crying. crying. Berkly Catton . tucking uou gently away <3 forever <3

From A Day in the Life: Berkly Catton & Conner Roulette

Fave movie is The Notebook (<- unrelated there's a . really funny comment on this video from a philly fan lamenting that Catton likes the Notebook - I assume because that's some uhhh how do the kids call it,, femme soyboy shit? lmao anyway stay LOSING toxic masculinity !!!)

The boys call him 'Berk' <3

He talks about Jack Hughes being a big influence on him (in other media, he gives Hughes as a player comp!) and going to hang out and work with the Hughes family in Michigan. I sense a thread of admiration here like it's such a sweet little crush LOL <3 I hope he notices you Berkly !!

he gives the player of the match hat to a coach/trainer (one of the two) it's lovely... ouhhh... good little fella so polite and so conscious of staff being the foundation of his success... mwah!!

From Berkly Catton Talks Hockey Sense, His Start In Hockey & More | Game Tape With Tony

His father and grandfather built him a rink in his backyard, very sweet.

1OA in the WHL draft!

Anime main character levels of training-arc... my guy shot thousands of pucks over the summer in his backyard and then came back suddenly able to score goals. <- this is where the DIY goalie made of wood and blocker pads comes in. lol. lmao. are u even real.

sorry. sorry. OLEN ZELLWEGER MENTION. <- one of my personal favourite little guys (undersized puck moving defensemen my BELOVED) "Kind of a funny story [...] I pretty much had a breakaway, when he just turned backwards and played it as a 1-on-1 somehow, and I was like 'wow, this guy's the real deal', so." I really liked how Catton easily recalled a specific person/moment when asked who challenged him the most in the WHL; I think it speaks to a thoughtfulness about the game - it would've been easy to just give a vague Oh Everyone Is Good answer here and I like that he didn't!

There's a section where he talks about how he got so good at stick lifting, such an interesting perspective I never considered - he played in situations and against people where he couldn't just throw his body around to win, so he had to learn to get the puck in other ways. KEVIN KORCHINSKI MENTION <- another one of my little guys <3

mentions his dad being a big influence on his 'patience'. parents are so funny to me. ur watching your sons juniors matches? and Ohhhhh Chris Catton was a hockey player too . it all makes sense. Berkly Catton product of jockdad like so many before him <3

I do love that throughout this interview, Catton defers to his linemates a lot. Always hyping them up and talking about how he owes his success to them. it could be construed as false humility, given Catton was the highest scoring draft-eligible in the league - but he really does go out of his way to emphasise how highly he regards them and how much of their on-ice success is owed to good chemistry built up over the entire season. It strikes me as genuine!! He's a good boy <3

Revealed he can solve a rubix cube at the end... wow... he just liek me fr...

PLEASE watch this on-ice interview where he's chatting after a game and then gets ABSOLUTELY WASTED by 5 water bottles and all the boys. he is clearly so so so beloved in that locker room waaaahhh <3

Anyway this isn't an exhaustive list but it IS a lot of the reasons why I really liked him pre-draft. welcome to the deep Berkly <3

[legacygirlingreen]

Easing Tensions

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Summary: When introductions go wrong, watch as Tech slowly has to earn back your good graces after he insults your abilities as a mechanic. From friendship to something more, eventually the two of you find some slice of heaven on Ord Mantell despite all odds...

Warning: Smut! Tech and reader are definetly not virgins so not first time (unless you wanna count first time together). Mild dom/sub vibes. Casual/playful spanking. Don't worry Tech's still really sweet. Mentions of Omega being kidnapped by Cad Bane and events of Bracca.

***no use of Y/N!!***

Notes: This is my first time posting for Bad Batch content so I really hope that everything goes okay! I want to thank my awesome friend @strawberrypinky for bearing with me and encouraging me despite her not having watched TBB before! It's so wonderful to have a friend who's so supportive!

Definitely pulled some inspo from some AMAZING fanart that I've seen on here. There's this wonderful image of Tech with tattoos by @cloned-eyes and so many incredible ones by @eggdrawsthings like this who often draws Tech with his cute little undercut!

Word Count: 16.5 words (I apologize for my inability to do porn without a plot!)

Ord Mantell wasn’t the nicest part of the galaxy, but- 

It is home..? 

It is tolerable..? 

It is a steaming pile of bantha shit? Yeah that’s probably as close as you could get to describing it. 

  No one intends to live in this sketchy city in the mid-rims: you just end up here. That’s how you got here after all. After having a few good years working on Coruscant, designing starships for Senators and the Aristocrats of the Republic. But then the war started. The Republic discovered they had been funding an army of clones, and all those privatized contracts dried up, rent went up and you’d been forced to leave the planet of lights. 

  After your ship had a malfunction, ending up in the space port just outside Cid’s place, the Trandoshan oddly taking pity on you, allowing you a place to crash in exchange for repairing her arcade machines… and the dish washer… and rewire her a new security system… and so much you lost track before word got around of your mechanical engineering skills. 

  Rotations kept going and it wasn’t long before you found yourself with a small shop, running jobs within the city on household appliances, droids, ships - you name it. It wasn’t much, just a tiny building full of spare parts, a work space, a front with some small devices to sell. Not to mention the small loft apartment above it - not that you actually made it up there, often falling asleep burning the midnight oil at your desk - but it was still a home. 

  Only occasionally getting robbed or having some creeps passing through town hitting on you being the few things that threw a damper in what turned out to be a decent enough existence. And as sketchy as Cid might be, or the cast of characters she keeps around, you still kept a soft spot for the lady. Always repairing whatever she claimed needed fixing… it was usually nothing. But you’d let her pour you a drink while you ‘fixed’ the slots for the hundredth time. After being tossed out of the highlight of the galaxy, you were finally at peace with where you wound up. 

  That was, until they showed up. 

  Bolo had stopped by in the morning, claiming Cid had broken the slot machine again, to which you said the usual: I’ll stop by after I finish this. 

  This being a machine for one of the only doctors in town. While most of the folks on Ord Mantell were less than ideal, the few good people made it worth sticking around. The doctor needing a medical device for internal issues fixed being an actual emergency over Cid’s loneliness. However, that rationalization soon would be something you’d regret. 

  Hours melted away, soldering iron finishing off the last of the repair. Standing from the desk, cracking your back and fingers prodding at the crick in your neck. Soreness being the reward for a hard day’s work. Well that and the small burns and cuts on your fingers. But that was an occupational hazard of doing repairs. 

  Slipping a coat on with the blaster you kept for protection underneath it was a quick delivery, with a joyful thank you - and a thank you pie courtesy of his lovely wife - and you finally made it to Cid’s. 

  You recognized the armor immediately. Having heard a few weeks back about the end of the war, you wondered what would happen to them. The clones. The ones that took your job. Took any chance at a promising career as a ship designer, because free labor is better than cheap labor. 

  Why were clones on Ord Mantell?

  All with their helmets removed, one near the bar turned to face you almost immediately. His face half covered in a tattoo as he made eye contact. You scowled, turned away, pushing your unresolved anger onto the man as if he personally was the cause of your misery. 

  Next to him was a clone that looked more metal than man. What had the Republic done with their clones if he wound up this bad? You thought to yourself, watching as his pale eyes glanced over your frame. The coat rack behind you suddenly reminds you that perhaps it best to remind these men you meant business. 

  Slipping off the outerwear, holster and gun on full display over the tight, oil stained work suit, you once again turn to examine just how many clones were in the parlor. A very large one, entertaining… a child? You knew for a fact these men were clones. Having been hit on by enough, regretfully having slept with a few before you skipped town - you had seen enough brown eyes to last a lifetime. 

  Then the joyful call of your name, Bolo and Ketch welcoming you over as Cid emerged from the back with yet another clone. 

  “Took you long enough,” she said, an almost undetectable smile working on her face as the others watched the interaction. 

  “Well, some of us had real work to do,” You tell her with a fake annoyed expression, stepping closer to the bar. 

  “You call tinkering in that dark room, work? When I - a paying customer - requested services,” Cid said. That caused the laugh to burst from your mouth, startling the watchful eyes of the new strangers. Soon Bolo and Ketch joined in, slapping the bar excitedly. 

  “I think I would be concerned if you did actually pay me,” You say through a chuckle, grabbing a tool off your belt as you turn towards the open room. “So where’s this slot machine that’s broken?” You emphasize the word, knowing it was likely from the one wire she always slightly disconnected to make you feel better for drinking without paying.

  “Same one as always, you know the drill. But hold on, I want you to meet my new boys. They are going to be running some jobs for me in order to keep a low profile with everything that’s going on,” Cid said, gesturing to the small squad of clones. 

  “I thought you said you would keep our business discreet?” Face-Tattoo growled as Cid waved him off. 

  “She’s a trusted acquaintance. The last stray I took in. Now look at her-” Cid started as Ketch spoke at the same time as her. 

  “A successful business woman-” Cid said.

“Covered in grease-” Ketch said.

  Bolo reacted immediately, laughing till he started coughing. The largest of the clones joining the Ithorian in laughter as you scowled at them. 

  “Cid it almost sounds as if you like me when you put it that way,” you warn her as she shakes her head, pushing you towards the slot machine. 

  “Eh don’t get carried away. Anyways, introductions. This is bandana-” she began as he grumpily spouted out, “Hunter”. 

  “This is muscles,” she pointed to the large one, who said “I’m Wrecker!” offering a smile and a hand, which she awkwardly shook. 

  “That’s tiny-” Cid pointed to the small girl, lingering near the one she called Wrecker. 

  “Hi! I’m Omega! You are really pretty-” she said, offering a hand as well. Her compliment catches you off guard from all the time with Cid’s sarcasm. 

  “Oh, uh… thanks kid. I like your uh… enthusiasm” you try to give her a compliment, the politeness so foreign it came off forced but the kid didn’t notice. 

  “Not sure what to call that one but he’s more metal than man at this point-” she pointed to the cybernetically enhanced one. 

  “Echo” he said plainly and you nod, appreciating the simplicity in his response. 

  “And this is goggles” she said, gesturing to the last one, who didn’t bother to look up from the device he was working on to even acknowledge you. 

  “Charming,” you reply sarcastically, finally drawing his attention as he watched the tail end of your eye roll. His own eyes fixating over the unique attire you donned along with the tools on your belt, his eyes narrowing as he wondered about your occupation. 

“His name is Tech, not Goggles,” giggles Omega. 

  “Ah, I see you are already acclimated to Cid’s show of affection. She must really like you all. Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, Cid-” You began, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible if there were now going to be clones at the parlor. Despite these one’s looking… vastly different, they still played a role in why you left. 

“Fix, then drink. You know the deal,” she explains. 

  Nodding you quickly sliding on your back, you open the circuit board, quickly locating the same wire that was always ‘altered’ prior to your arrival. Just as you went to reattach it however, a voice near your head startled you, the yelp leaving your lips as the wire’s exposed end shocked you. 

  “Ah!” filled the parlor, everyone’s attention turning towards the slot machine which Tech had inadvertently shoved himself underneath alongside you as he began troubleshooting the issue. 

  “Perhaps you should consider replacing the whole circuit board and wiring system if this one machine persists with issues. I am inclined to doubt your mechanic skills if you continually have to come back for repairs on the same device.” He spoke bluntly as you dropped the tool in your hand, anger rising to the surface as he stared at the machine, hands starting to trace the circuit board when you lost it. 

  “What are you doing?!” You demanded, finally drawing his attention, when Tech realized he had invaded your personal space a bit more than he intended. 

  “Oh, I was curious if my knowledge of engineering would be helpful given you seem to lack the knowledge in order to fix this devic-” he started but you weren’t hearing it, sliding away from him instantly as you brushed yourself off and stood, angrily stomping in the opposite direction.

  Cid called your name but you weren’t hearing it, reaching for your coat, tossing it on despite the many eyes watching your hasty exit. “Clones!” you gritted through clenched teeth, eyes rolling as you started up to street level. Steps on the stairs being the last anyone heard of you as you left a wake of confusion. 

  “Way to go Goggles” Cid chastised him as he stood, having propped himself up when you stomped away. 

  “I fail to see the issue. I merely pointed out the flaws in her previous attempts to fix the slot-” Tech began to defend himself. 

  “I don’t think insulting her was the right move,” Hunter groaned. 

  “Yeah, why did you make fun of how she fixes stuff? She was really pretty.” Wrecker said, sheepish look. 

  Echo remained silent, watching as Tech did not grasp what had happened, once again firing into an explanation as to why he believed he was not in the wrong.

  “If one continually has to return to fix the same device, I believe it only fair to question the validity of their credentials. Why else would it-” Tech spoke, only to have Omega step towards him, gently placing her hand on his armored shoulder before she said, “Tech, I think that for the two of them, fixing the machine is Cid’s way of asking for her company. That’s why it’s always the same device that’s broken-”

  “What you are saying is that the slot machine is a humorous bit of sorts?” He asked, glancing back at the way the panel lacked 2 bolts on its cover. When he looked at the spot, now vacated by you, he noticed you left a wrench on the ground. Walking towards it, he bent at the waist, picking it up and examining it. Carved into the handle were some initials, he assumed must be yours. 

  “It seems Tiny is smarter than you are Goggles,” Cid said with an eye roll, walking to the backroom, leaving the clones with the two regulars who awkwardly watched the interaction. 

  “I did not mean to appear rude-” Tech sighed, fingers probing his temples as Omega looked at Ketch. 

  “You know her don’t you?” Omega asked. 

  “Yeah… I can take it to her place on the way home. She tends to hole herself up there for days at a time-” Ketch explained only to have Omega shake her head. 

  “If you could tell us where it is, I can return it.” The small girl informed the group, immediately having Hunter protest, but Echo nudged him, pointing at Tech. 

  “Fine but take Tech with you,” Hunter realized Echo was alluding to Tech being granted an opportunity to apologize. 

  “I still believe it best to wait until morning given the nature of this town being less than ideal,” Tech protested. 

  “It’ll be fine Tech, we can take them!” Omega said enthusiastically, grabbing his hand and her newly acquired bow. 

  “I’m assuming them to be the metaphorical enemies we may run across?” He sighed, reaching for his helmet but Omega yanked him harder. 

  “Omega my helm-“ he yelped and she kept dragging.

  “It’ll be fine. Besides, if you are going to apologize it’s better to let her see your face when you do so,” omega explained. 

  “Why does seeing my face matter?” He groaned, the two of them coming to the street as Ketch pointed them in the direction of a street, giving them a piece of paper with your shop logo before leaving. 

  “Well, I don’t know. Maybe she’ll think you’re handsome,” Omega spoke with a mischievous grin, still tugging her brother along as he stumbled behind her. 

  “That is rather doubtful,” He told her, sigh passing over his lips as he realized it would likely be the same story he’d known many times at this point. Any time they were on Corrasaunt, they did worse with the presence of Regs, and the few women that glanced their way were always going for Wrecker, Crosshair or Hunter. He had lucked out in some ways, that Echo seemingly did just as bad with women, the two of them only rarely completing the mission so to speak. On the rare instance he did find himself, it usually felt awkward, unsatisfying and with them forgetting his name by morning. Despite being well versed in how to assist women, it always felt forced and against his nature to behave in the more dominant nature most females found appealing. Not that Tech was going to be the one to explain the intricacies of sexual relations to Omega. He was certain via scientific means that she was aware of how the act worked, but beyond that it felt more like a conversation between her and genuinely anyone else. 

  “I think that’s it!” She pointed out, and he raised the crude drawing on a napkin they had acquired that showed the logo of the shop. Above the shop was a light in what he figured to be a small domicile she occupied. 

  “I believe you are correct, however it may be best to attempt entry from the back. It appears there is a set of stairs that lead to-” he began, only to have the girl bound off without him for the alleyway, a slight skip in her step. 

  From within your apartment, you were angrily stomping about, tossing random parts into a crate. Circuit board, wires, tools. Who was he to question your ability to fix the damned machine? Fixing to make your way back to the parlor, you were dead set on proving him wrong. 

  In the midst of your sharp movements a knock at the apartment door startled you, causing you to stumble and ram your toes into the leg of the nearest table. The expletive ringing through the air as you hobbled towards the door, hand on the gun in case some creep had followed you. Pulling up the image display you had installed for security you saw the girl from the parlor and - 

  Door sliding open, you leaned against the frame to prevent putting weight on the throbbing extremity. 

  “Can I help you?” You grumpily scoffed at the pair, the little girl undeterred by your perturbed nature while the Clone, much less confident now glanced around awkwardly, his arms clutching his sides. 

  “We came to return your wrench,” she smiled up at you, her innocent brown eyes sparkling with the low lighting of your flat reflecting. Dammit. 

  “Well, that is unexpectedly kind I suppose. I assume Ketch told you where I live, so why not just let him do it?” You ask, still unsure why she sought you out to return something as simple as a wrench. You had hundreds. Still feeling the pain in your foot, you began to worry that you had actually broken or fractured something, given it had lingered, so as you looked down at the young girl you once again shifted weight, a slight hiss exiting your lips, nearly undetectable, but with the way Tech was scrutinizing you he noticed. 

  “Oh, I just thought that maybe since you and Cid are close, our squad could become friends with you-” Omega began only to have Tech interrupt her, stepping between the two of you. 

  “You are injured,” he bluntly said, gesturing down to your foot. 

  “Yes. I do not get visitors, especially this time of night, and certainly not men who have insulted me coming to my door. The knock startled me,” you hissed out as you straightened up, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you as you glared at him. 

  “Tech did not mean to be rude-” the girl began sensing the shift in hostility between the way you had spoken softly to her and the way tension grew the second Tech spoke up. 

  “I’m sure Tech-” you cut her off and test the waters by using his name before continuing “-doesn’t need you to apologize on his behalf. He’s a big boy. He can do it himself,” You glance down at her before once again turning to face him, arms crossing over your chest. “Unless of course, he isn’t sorry?” You challenge him to speak up with your tone. 

  “I-” she spoke after the beat of silence, only to have the man interrupt her once more. 

  “I believed myself to be perfectly within the bounds of questioning your skillset given the information I had at the time, being your frequent return to the parlor-” He began and you rolled your eyes, back of your head leaning back to meet the frame of the door as you scoffed. 

  “So you came to further insult me.” You said as he paused momentarily to look at you. 

  “No, I was-” Tech began and you waved him off, dismissing him. 

  “Sure sounds that way to me Brown Eyes,” You push off the frame of the door despite the pain in your toe, to get as close to face level as possible, despite his extremely tall frame. “I’ve dealt with enough clones to last a lifetime. And my experience has always been that of arrogant, inconsiderate men who think too highly of themselves and too lowly of me,” you lean in closer to his ear so only he will hear as you whisper, “especially for men who continually failed to finish me off…” 

  Leaning back you smirk watching the realization, possibly even horror cross his features as the tips of his ears burn red. 

  “Omega, go back to Cid’s-” he stuttered out as you laughed. 

  “Not this time of night Tech. Ord Mantell is far from the worst place in the galaxy but that doesn’t mean it's safe for her to navigate alone, especially with what’s on the horizon.” You warned him, eyes glancing up to the sky. 

  “Whatever do you mea-” Tech began, watching in horror as Omega’s hair began to slightly stand up as she giggled, while a large flash of light overhead. 

  “Electrical storms. I am surprised you didn’t note them in whatever archives I suspect someone of your calliber to have examined about Ord Mantell before or shortly after arrival,” You mention, looking down at the young girl. If it was just her, you would have no issue letting Omega in. But the extremely tall trooper wasn’t exactly in your best sights currently. Sighing you step aside, gesturing to come inside. 

  “I have not had proper time to examine known information on-” Tech straightened up as you interrupted him. 

  “Save it. Just get inside. They get downright nasty. I may not like you very much, but I am also not a monster who’s going to let you get electrocuted in the streets,” you scoffed at him, allowing the pair to pass through your flat’s entryway. 

  “Wow you have your own room!” Omega joyfully exclaimed, rushing around to look at your sparse belongings and wall decorations. Some random plans, some spare parts, a few drawings, a few photos - nothing abnormal. 

  “I can’t say I make it up here most nights to actually enjoy it, so apologies about the mess,” you hush out. Tech’s eyes were wide as he had trained them onto the back of your small sofa. Getting closer you realized what caused his nervousness as a bra tossed over the back came into view from where you’d flung it one evening. Crossing ahead of him, you reached for it, shoving it into the cushions. 

  While Tech commed back to the rest of their team, informing them the plan to wait out the normal evening storm here, you double checked no other artifacts of awkward origins to be lingering about. 

  The apartment wasn’t much, just a bed in the back corner behind a screen, a small kitchen with one burner and a stove, along side a small refrigeration unit. A refresher behind a door right at the entry way and some sparse furniture. Mostly, the space just spilled over spare parts from downstairs. 

  “Omega stop meddling in belongings that are not yours, it’s rude” Tech warned as he came back from discussing with Hunter. Omega hadn’t sat still, running around your flat as new items of interest took over her young mind. 

  “She’s fine,” you tell him, leaning against a wall looking at how he shifted slightly under your scrutiny. 

  “Tech look! It’s our ship!” Omega shouted from near one of the windows and he moved towards her, assuming her to be pointing outside in the direction of the hanger, but as he got closer he saw a small model of the standard ship, along with some drawings on the wall. 

  “Well, technically Omega we use a heavily modified version and this is the standard model of the-” he started as you chuckled. 

  “Omicron Class Attack Shuttle,” You tell him, coming to stand on the other side of Tech. 

  “How do you know have these? They are for military usage only, and I calculate the probability of one ending up here during the war to be quite low,” Tech asked. 

  “She helped design it.” Omega mentioned very plainly as Tech’s eyes bulged, turning to the young girl in time to see her fingers pointing towards some of your old sketches, signature and date marked many moons ago. 

  “But that-” he came closer to what Omega pointed out, heart beat picking up as he realized not only had he flown a ship you apparently helped design, but he had just earlier insulted your knowledge of mechanics. 

  “Was a lifetime ago. But yes. I used to live on Coruscant and worked as an engineer. Until contracts for civilians dried up. When I left, my ship had a malfunction and this was the safest planet to land for repairs. Haven’t left.” You explain to him, shifting the weight back off the injured toe, which you could feel swelling in the confines of your sock. 

  “These drawings do not match the standard regulation manuels for the shuttle. Why are they different? They closer resemble some of the modifications I have personally installed.” Tech asked you, fingers tracing over the worn schematics as he noted a different configuration for the main compressor and hyperdrive. 

  “I was only a junior engineer at the time. My supervisor demanded the changes be made no matter how much I protested. That’s why I was surprised to hear you boys fly one, but I suppose your modifications have extended it’s life. The changes my team made were less than ideal. But still, it’s my favorite ship I’ve designed,” you explain, feeling a strange mixture of relief and anxiety to bring up the past like this. 

  “Fascinating… What other ships have you designed if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked without looking up from the remnants of your old work. 

  “There’s a data pad right there on the table. Not sure if it’s got enough power to charge up, but it has the schematics of what I worked on. I’ll warn you, it’s mostly shuttles for senators or higher ranking military personale. Not many are military craft,” you explain pointing out the data pad, noting the Omega had disappeared from view, finding her sitting on the sofa as she smiled and waved to you. 

  Moving across the apartment you sat next to her, curious why 4 clones were traveling with a child. 

  “So what’s your story kid?” You ask her, watching as Tech poked around your small corner of relics from time spent as an engineer, his fingers picking up some of the small models as he continued to flip through the data pad he got working with a small transportable battery pack, muttering out undistinguishable words ever few moments. 

  You split your attention between half listening to Omega’s explanation of how she was a clone like the others to watching Tech’s half smile as he glanced over your old work. Strangely enough when he wasn’t insulting you, he was handsome. Different from other clone’s you’d met in the fact his face was more angularly and thin. Hair and skin lighter in color than the others, he looked so familiar and yet so unique. 

  Suddenly a weight on your shoulder broke you out of the trance you had developed as you stared at Tech, who was still distracted as he propped himself up against the wall. Omega, having fallen asleep, was leaning on you as her breathing evened out. 

  You knew sleep wouldn’t come with the strange clones in your apartment so you carefully lifted her, as she weighted very little, and began to move her towards your bed. Least you could do was let her sleep on a real bed for the first time in a while. Tech’s eyes flashed when he saw the movement, not saying anying as he watched you carry her.  Setting down the datapad he realized you would not be able to move the privacy screen while your arms were occupied, so he adjusted it out of the way as you bent a bit to set the young girl on the bed, pulling the recently washed covers up around her. 

  Omega’s eyes cracked open slightly as she smiled and snuggled down into the bed before drifting back to sleep, the two of you bearing witness to how sweet she looked as sleep overtook her young body. Nodding your head he stepped aside, allowing you both to leave the designated area for the bed and he once again closed the screen. 

  “You did not have to do that, my calculations show that the storm is likely to pass within the next few hours,” Tech whispered as you shrugged. 

  “When was the last time she slept in a real bed?” You challenged. 

  “Point taken. I do have several questions on various ships I examined while looking through your datapad, but I feel it inappropriate to ask given I insulted you earlier,” He said in a hushed breath as you nodded. 

  “So how do you plan to rectify that hotshot?” You aren’t sure why you felt the need to shift your tone to playful as you nudged his shoulder, forgetting he had on plastoid as it made contact and immediately stung.

  “I am uncertain. I do not have data to base interactions such as this upon in order to determine the best possible course of action,” He whispered out as you sighed, going to put on the kettle. 

  “It’s as simple as saying you are apologetic,” you explain to him calmly, realizing now that perhaps Tech lacked some social awareness despite that big brain of his.  You were used to it in the field of engineers. Kind people who weren’t always the most adept at dealing with emotions.  

  Tech’s eyes watched as you began to heat up water on the stove, the slight hobble in your step still apparent. 

  “I apologize for being rude. You are still injured from earlier,” he nodded to your foot. 

  “I’ll live. But thank you for your apology. Tea? Calf? What’s your poison?” You ask him nodding to the water. 

  “I don’t think there’s any reason to trouble you with either on my behalf,” he said simply as you rolled your eyes. 

  “It's no trouble at all. Besides with how nasty those electrical storms are you are going to want to get comfortable. Feel free to take off the plastoid, I can’t imagine it’s pleasant to be in all the time,” you tell him. 

  He simply stands, not wanting to argue, carefully removing the pieces and stacking them in a neat pile on the floor. You take out two mugs from the cabinet, deciding that he seemed like more of a cheap ration calf man, much like yourself, so you spoon it into the cups and pour the water on top before setting one down in front of him before grabbing the sugar from the pantry and setting it out. 

  “Thank you,” Tech mentioned, ignoring the sugar and just began to sip it as is. 

  “No problem, so these questions?” you came to sit on the adjacent barstool, nodding towards the schematics he had pulled up. 

  Tech felt his stomach drop seeing you so close, leaning over the holopad ready to answer his questions when only an hour ago you were content to ring his neck out. Having someone to discuss his area of expertise with was rare, especially not someone so pretty… 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  Several rotations and jobs for Cid under the Batch’s belt, you’d formed a very unique relationship with the clone to say the least. When getting along, things were great. However, you still occasionally found yourself frustrated with his affinity for saying things, while true, that came off as callus or dismissive. 

  Such as the most recent issue. Tech let you poke around the modifications he’d made to their ship in some down time, during which you pointed out a better alternative for the power cufflinks. This led the man to get defensive, jumping to an explanation that once again challenged your expertise. Leading to a speedy exit from the hanger and ignoring his feeble attempts at knocking on your door, Tech left Ord Mantell to meet Rex on Bracca with you still very much angry at him. 

  He’d sent a message, to which you ignored on the private com channel he set up for you, as you warned the boys that while you adored Cid, she wasn’t particularly known for being trustworthy. Despite your occasional frustration at times with Tech’s less than appealing behavior, you didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. 

  Going off-world for an unknown amount of time to remove a device that might cause us to lose bodily autonomy and certain cognitive functions that were part of our programming. It is imperative we do so, however there are unknowns with such a procedure. Things may not go according to plan. ~ Tech

  You didn’t respond, set in your stubbornness as you ignored his message that matter of factly stated his plans. Your largest complaint about the man, despite his very kind nature overall, was that he struggled admitting he was wrong or had hurt your feelings. 

  After a few hours you received another ping. 

  Landed and waiting to meet our contact. ~ Tech

  You sigh, continuing to twist the bolt holding together the maintenance droid someone recently allowed you to have, trying to fix the pile of scrap so you could gain some relief with fulfilling projects. 

  Another ping came in less than an hour later. 

  I apologize for once again hurting your pride. I am unused to dealing with those who are not my brothers, and they have acclimated themselves to my more undesirable traits. It is not an excuse, but please know that I am attempting to correct such habits in the name of maintaining our friendship, as it is something I am coming to value. ~ Tech

  You look at the screen. He was trying his best and you could recognize that. It softened the anger you felt. You weren’t fully ready to discuss with him however, leaving the message open on your tablet, losing yourself in the work in front of you as your mind tried to form a proper response. 

  [Incoming message from Tech]

  Wrecker’s inhibitor chip activated. Things were more intense than I initially anticipated. He did not hesitate to try and harm us. Omega was frightened by his actions, however no one was injured beyond him briefly rendering me unconscious. That being said, I am fine. We are waiting for him to wake up. Still unsure the safety of this procedure as his vitals have not stabilized. I will continue to keep you posted even if you are neglecting to respond. ~ Tech

  Staring at the screen the sudden concern for the safety of their team outweighed you silly argument with Tech, fingers forming a response, and hitting send despite the several crafted responses you had spent the last hours mentally cataloging. 

  From the ruins of the jedi cruiser on Bracca, Tech was surprised as he saw an incoming response from you, sitting up immediately as he read it. 

  I am sorry for not responding. I needed time to mentally process your apology, as your words do hurt sometimes. That being said, we do not have to discuss things further. I hope Omega is doing better. I cannot imagine how frightening that must have been for her. Tell her she's got a girl's only night when she returns filled with all the street food her heart desires. Let me know when Wrecker wakes up. Please try and stay safe. Drinks are on me when you all get back to Ord Mantell. 

  Tech smiled down at the message, leaning back some in the seat. He didn’t want to push his luck by responding to you. You were kind enough to offer an olive branch and accept his apology once more.

  Soon Wrecker woke up, prompting the others to take turns removing their chips. Tech wasn’t sure why he felt the need to wait to be last. Perhaps he wanted confirmation that things would be alright? Perhaps he was more nervous than he anticipated. But when it was finally his turn to lay down, his last thought before drifting off was of a pretty mechanic back on their new home waiting for him. 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  “This is the Havoc-Marauder - *static* please, come in,” the vocal element of your com began blaring through the otherwise quiet shop as you continued to repair projects. Boosting the signal you reached down to the tablet, pressing the button, trying to figure out why the boys seemed so distressed. 

  Tech had informed you that they were all able to remove the inhibitor chips successfully and that they were going to attempt to recover valuable assets from the ship before their departure. Not worried about the plan, you were surprised to hear the fear in their voices as you waited for a response. 

  “The empire showed up and in the chaos of it all, a bounty hunter named Cad Bane took Omega and injured Hunter. We are trying to locate where they may have taken her, since it was off-world. Do you have any contacts who may know more? We can’t get a hold of Cid-” Echo spoke through the coms instead of Tech. 

  “Actually, I have more information that may be useful” came Tech’s faded voice from the back of the transmission, as you allowed him to speak. “Omega is more valuable than we realized,” Tech spoke, leading a winded Hunter to question why, as you held your breath waiting for information that may be useful. 

  “I further analyzed Omega’s genetic profile and discovered she has pure, first generation DNA-” Tech spoke, and while you weren’t fully versed in cloning or the Kamino process, you assumed that made her more valuable than the others. As Tech continued to explain for the others to understand, you reached over for the long range transmitter and sent a message to an old friend, who quickly read and began typing. 

  “If she’s vital to the Kaminoans cloning operation, they must have put the bounty on her-” you heard Echo say, confirming the suspicions you already had. 

  “So how do we find this bounty Hunter?” Wrecker grumbled just in time for you to speak up. 

  “I may have an idea, if anyone’s up for it-” you offer, wishing more than anything the boys were in range to see them instead of just hear them. Something about putting eyes on them would’ve been a comfort, but you’d settle for their voices. 

  “That is why we contacted you, so please,” Hunter mentioned. 

  “Well, I had a friend back when I was on Coruscant. She worked closely with the cloning operations medical staff, and was transferred to Coruscant at the start of the war. She said there’s several decommissioned Kaminoan facilities throughout the galaxy. If the Kaminoans are the one’s after Omega, shouldn’t they want a secure location that only they are aware of? At the very least, it’s a starting point. She was able to inform me of 3 she knew about. Two in close proximity to your location. The other is closer to Ord Mantell if you wish for me to check it out-” you explain only to have Tech cut you off. 

  “Negative. With a bounty hunter as dangerous as Cad Bane I do not wish for you to go anywhere near that facility. Transmit the coordinates and we shall examine the closer one’s first-” he said. 

  “If Omega is at that facility, you all will miss her transfer between the bounty hunter and Kaminoans. That’s not worth chancing it. I can decide what risks I wish to undertake on my own-” your voice raises to accommodate the frustration you feel.

  “Regardless it is not a job you should undertake given your skillset is not that of combat,” he tells you, the others growing silent as you dismiss his concerns. 

  “I am transmitting the coordinates. See you all when you get back. Let me know if something happens.” You state bluntly, and as Tech goes to question you once more, you cut the call, not wanting to hear his concerns. You didn’t want Omega injured or removed from her brothers. He wasn’t going to stop you from looking. That wasn’t Tech’s call to make.

  Quickly rushing around the messy flat, you collected what you through you may need before going down to the hanger which held your rusty bucket of bolts. It wasn’t much, but it would do. Rarely having time to work on it, you knew the ship needed a massive overhaul, but that could come after you saved Omega. 

  It was when you came out of hyperspace in your small shuttle that you received another transmission. 

  “Omega was able to get away from the bounty hunter but we aren’t sure for how long she’ll be free. She is at the location closer to Ord Mantell, in the Lido system but we are uncertain if we will reach it in time-” Hunter spoke feverishly as you looked down at the planet’s surface. 

  “Then it’s a good thing I am already here,” you tell them, flying close by to the facility seeing three ships already landed, meaning the transfer was happening or soon to be over, and that a possible third party was involved.

  “I thought I cautioned you to stay on Ord Mantell where it was safe,” Tech said, anger laced in his tone as you set the ship down on an abandoned platform, reaching for the baster you kept on you at all times. You may not be the best at fighting, but you did have the ability to cloak, as you developed a small experimental hood that utilized the same technology as your cloaked shuttle. It would have to be enough to locate Omega and hope you all could slip away from the bounty hunter before someone realized you were here.

  “You did. But it’s a good thing I elected to ignore it. Do hurry, I will try and find Omega or at the very least stall until you all can reach the system. Over-” you called, turning off the device so that the sound would not give you away and slipped outside. 

  You didn’t make it very far before you heard shouting and Omega fell onto the platform adjacent to your own after awkwardly riding atop a small droid - possibly a techno service droid but it was too far away to notice. Rushing towards her before she could get very far, you removed the hood disguising your head. 

  “Omega!” you shouted, drawing her attention as she turned and quickly ran back in your direction, a small limp in her step which must have occurred at some point during her escape.

  “You came for me!” she leapt into your arms, as you reached for a small multitool from your belt to cut her binders. 

  “Of course I did, your brothers aren’t that far behind, we need to get out of her-” you started, only to be cut off as you watched in horror. The droid, which Omega was running from, had activated a panel on the platform your ship was on, causing it to fall into the ocean depths below, preventing your escape.

  “I just paid that off,” you cried watching it fall as Omega dragged you down a small set of stairs, noting the pods for escaping the Kaminan facility just ahead. 

  “I’m sure Tech will help you fix a new one, we need to hurry, the bounty hunter who tried to get me on Pantora is here fighting the one who took me. We don’t have much time” she mentioned, the two of you cramming into the pod before one of the bounty hunters could emerge. 

  Just as the pod was activated however, the little droid who destroyed your shuttle appeared in the viewport, demanding to know where you were going. Omega didn’t respond, angrily typing until the pod launched, her falling into your lap and you held her tightly and the droid flew out of the view. 

  “Do we have any control over this thing?” You demanded to know, the little girl turning in your lap as she shook her head no, loud blaring of an emergency alarm filling the pod. 

  “Alright, we aren’t going to panic. If we survive the landing your brothers will be here soon enough okay? So just hold on-” you try to reassure her, running a gentle hand through her hair as you continue to fall towards the ocean. Not sure if you even believed your attempt at calming her, you didn’t want your final moments to be filled with fear before the unknown of what came after all this. 

  “I’m scared-” she said quietly, eyes closing as she snuggled into you. You didn’t respond, pulling her close, the scent of blaster fire lingering on her frame. You were going to be okay. The boys weren’t close behind. Everything would be fine-

  Suddenly a loud thud came over the top of the pod, stalling the descent. Pulling the blaster you looked up, pushing Omega as far behind you as it would allow in the cramped space, ready to shoot if it was the bounty hunter who’d locked onto the escape pod. When it opened however, and the smoke cleared, Wrecker leaned his face into view. 

  “Omega?! Are you in there?” He shouted, looking down as his eyes landed on the both of you. Putting the gun back at your side you lifted her into his waiting arms. Once she was being lifted out of the pod, you began climbing the small ladder, as Wrecker welcomed her back. 

  “Tech your girlfriend is in here too-” he said cheerfully, Echo reaching down to help pull you out as well. 

  “Wrecker that is inappropriate as we are not courting-” Tech yelled from the cockpit as you found footing inside their ship. Hunter, who was still heavily bandaged turning to you as Omega greeted Echo from within Wrecker’s arms. 

  “You came to help. Why?” He asked you, pain still evident in his voice from whatever injuries he sustained. 

  “Because she needed it.  I didn’t really do much if I am honest, just covered her exit-” you explained as Omega solemnly looked at you, tears welling in her eyes. 

  “I am so sorry about your ship,” she said as you shook your head. 

  “Don’t worry about it kid. Ships are replaceable. You aren’t.” You told her, ruffling her hair as she made her way to Hunter. Suddenly the waterworks started and he checked on her as you moved back, to allow them a reunion. You couldn’t imagine how frightening it must have been for her the last few days. 

  “Thank you for helping us find her. We would not have been able to do so in a timely manner had it not been for you.” Echo complimented.

  “No need to thank me,” you began, only to have a clearing throat behind you prevent you from speaking further. Tech was leaning up against the wall leading into the cockpit, his face turned completely to the side, facing the control panel. 

  “If you’ll excuse me-” you told Echo, following Tech's stomping footsteps as he led you into the cockpit, promptly shutting the door behind you to allow privacy. 

  “Before you berate me can you at least-” you started, only to feel arms pull you, quite awkwardly, into a plastoid covered chest. 

  His helmet was off. You could tell by the way his breath ruffled your hair gently as he leaned his face down along the top of your head. Once the initial shock wore off, your arms moved behind him, tightening around his back in that section between his armor and utility belt, feeling the warmth as his body gave off from beneath the black suit. 

  Sure he was a bit musky from having gone a few rotations without a refresher to clean up, but he was here, solid and strong. Under the lingering scent of sweat, ash, and grime you could smell that GAR issued soap they kept on board, which always clung to him and became apparent when you leaned in to see the datapad over his shoulder. 

  “Thank you. Despite being reckless, your actions and intel were able to help us retrieve Omega,” he whispered against your hairline, his lips barely brushing the skin there as he spoke. The featherlike contact, making you shiver, goosebumps raising along your skin. 

  Not anticipating his gratitude, you didn’t respond initially, soaking up the rare affection as you noticed Tech didn’t often seem to enjoy people in his personal space. Any time you got too close he’d clear his throat, shifting away. Any time you’d accidentally brush your fingers against his own, he’d wipe his gloved palms over his thighs as if to remove any traces of you. This jump to initiating contact catching you off guard. 

  “I don’t regret anything. She’s safe. That’s all that matters,” you tell him, fingers finding the area just below the chest plate as you rub your hand up and down his back slowly, as if to test the waters. He doesn’t say anything, even if it did bother him, as you remain there for a moment longer. 

  “While Omega is a large priority of mine, I argue that your safety is also important,” he said, uncertainty laced in his voice. 

  “Well, that’s good to hear. I am glad you all are safe. I was worried when you said Wrecker temporarily went rogue.” You admit to him, removing your cheek from the harsh chestplate, putting your forehead there instead. Removing your arms from behind him, you prepared to end the embrace, despite not really wanting to. 

  “We are fine,” he said softly, noticing you pulling back as he dropped his hands slowly. 

  “Really? All here now? No missing limbs-” you start to tease as you pull away, finally catching a glimpse of him as you chuckle. “Oh. Missing hair though it would seem-” you point up, noticing the way he now sported a shaved patch on almost the entirety of one side of his head, where a small bandage covered a section just back from his temple. 

  Tech’s gloved fingers immediately sought out the side of his head, grazing the patch as he looked down, almost embarrassingly as his arm fell back to his side. 

  “Rather unfortunate but it’ll grow back. Although, Echo did take off more than I believe to have been necessary. Small price to pay for the removal of those chips. After seeing what it did to Wrecker, I do not mind having the peace of knowing that it will not affect me in the future-” He began to ramble, only to trail off as he noticed you lean up some, inspecting his hair with an unreadable expression. “Something wrong?” he asked, uneasiness setting in.

  Not responding, you looked closer. Reaching your hand up gently, fingertips tracing a similar path that his own had, his eyes growing wide as you inspected the short hairs now on that side of his head, which contradicted the opposing side, where it remained slicked back. Small smile on your face as your hand fell away, but you kept close proximity to his stunned face. 

  “Not at all. I don’t hate it actually,” you slyly smile as his eyebrows shoot up in response. 

  “I find that hard to believe-” he states plainly as his eyes drift away momentarily before coming back to search for the truth. A part of him partly expects you to be playfully teasing him, as he’d come to accept that as part of your personality.

  “Be that as it may, if I were you, I’d consider keeping it,” you tell him honestly, eyes glancing back to his own from within the confines of his goggles. 

  “Really?” he pressed, uncertain as he imagined it looked horrid, since he’d only felt around for it with the chaos that persisted after they removed the chips. 

  “I like it. It’s rugged in a way that is quite handsome,” you tell him honestly, stepping back from the almost trance you were in caused by the change in his appearance. Your cheeks burning red at the honesty you had spoken. The quick departure from his personal space made you miss the mirroring pair of pink tinted cheeks on the soldier. 

  “Oh,” he said, almost surprised as you turned away to rejoin the others. When you opened the door back to the main hull you barely heard Tech’s soft voice say, “fascinating…” as his fingers once again grazed his short hair with a childlike grin gracing his face. 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  You were going to kill Cid. That was, assuming the Pykes didn’t kill you first. Not only had she conspired to have the bad batch steal spice to get rid of Roland Durand, who had moved in and taken the city in their absence. Fortunately your shop, not valuable without your knowledge of how to use the spare parts, had been spared, but not Cid’s. 

  When things had gone south, they lost the spice in an old mine shaft filled with a hive of irlings. Returning to the parlor, Omega were held in order to make the boys co-operate, and yourself to make Cid. 

  Hands bound next to the Devaronian male who instigated the whole situation, you couldn’t fully fault his anxiety. If the batch wasn’t able to recover the spice, you were as good as dead. So was Omega. Which is why you put your trust in them, praying to the maker Tech could figure out a solution that left you all to walk away. 

  You tried to remove the image of Tech’s very angry face as the leader of the Pykes told them that Omega and you would remain with them as collateral, his eyes snapping to yours as his hand reached for the pistol on his hip and held it up ready to fire without a second thought. Something about it was so incredibly protective. As someone who’d been on their own for such a long time, it made your stomach swarm with butterflies. 

  “Don’t try it. They’ll kill you,” Roland warned, your eyes snapping to Omega who was eying an abandoned gun on the floor near where you were all bound. 

  “I hate to agree but he’s right,” you whispered, gesturing for her to stay put. If there’s one thing you knew, it was to not mess with the Pykes. 

  “If your friends don’t return with the spice, we’re all dead. That’s what happens when you meddle in other people’s business,” he said very pessimistically. 

  “Us? You’re the one who took Cid’s parlor from her-” Omega began to argue, and not wishing to participate in their spat, you leaned your head back.

  Ever since you all had rescued Omega from the bounty hunter, things had been different with you and Tech. Not incredibly so. He resumed the distance physically he always kept between you. It seemed he truly didn’t wish to invade your space and kept you from doing the same. That being said, there had not been an argument to date. Not even a slip of tongue from him that indicated a lack in your skills. 

  A part worried that he regretted it, or was possibly trying to keep you from making another advancement. You aren’t sure why you had complimented him, and despite the positive reaction it seemed to warrant, things had gotten somewhat stagnant. More awkward when you were alone, as if he was unsure. At this rate you left it in his court to decide. You made up your mind some time ago in that cockpit that you had feelings for the man, regardless of if he returned them. 

  You hoped he did. After all, he had decided to keep his hair buzzed down on the sides once it began growing back in, since you mentioned that you found it attractive, the shorter hair accentuating his more prominent features like his sharp jaw or chiseled cheekbones. That’s got to count for something, right? And when they were away on missions, he still messaged when he could check in or chat on long flights. You assumed that was a good sign. 

  There had also been an uptick in time he spent at your shop or flat. Sure, the others did as well. Omega often came by since she needed escapes from her brothers. Wrecker loving to come pilfer food from your pantry. Echo occasionally needed help with malfunctions in his mechanical arm or legs. Hunter was the one you saw the least, and never alone, but he tended to keep to himself. However Tech was there at seemingly every free moment he had - fixing stuff alongside you in the shop, occasionally reading up on manuals late at night in your flat as you briefly spoke about ideas for projects to help their jobs with Cid. 

  Just as nightfall began you all were ushered to the hanger, the Marauder visible you were pushed outside, landing on your knees next to Rolland and Omega. The boys exited the ship, Cid on their tails as Wrecker began to unload the spice. Glancing up at Tech’s worried eyes you felt relief knowing that the hard part was over. 

  Once Wrecker unloaded the last crate, one of the Pyke’s came behind you, knife in hand as you grew nervous. The Pykes weren’t galactically known for playing fair, and with Omega off to the side, you worried that they might punish you for Cid’s rash actions. 

  Tech watched, fingers reaching for his weapon as he saw the fear in your eyes. You made eye contact with him once more as you waited for whatever outcome may present itself, hoping that they would do their best to take care of you if it got ugly. Feeling movement on your wrists, you were relieved when they cut the bindings, pushing you forward. 

  “Since the spice has been returned, the matter between us is resolved,” they spoke, as you reached forward, Tech’s hand pulling you next to him as Hunter grabbed Omega. From over Cid’s head, you watched as they weren’t finished with the Devaronian, and you didn’t really care watching him deal with their anger. 

  “Are you unharmed?” Tech’s eyes found yours as you stabilize yourself, nodding to him. From the corner of your eye the others attempted to defuse the situation, to no avail as Roland had one of his horns shorn and the Pykes left. 

  The way Cid turned, offering everyone drinks as if she hadn’t looped you all into her mess, angered you. She’d almost gotten you, Omega, and the other’s killed because she wasn’t strong enough to stand up for herself in the face of a gangster. 

  Fire and brimstone in your blood, you felt your hands shaking as you let go of Tech’s arm. “I just want to go home,” you said, pushing his armored chest and began stomping away from the others, who were heading inside the Parlor, excited things had worked out. 

  Tech watched your retreating form, understanding your frustration but confused as to why you hadn’t wanted to celebrate with the others. After all, things had worked out, no one was injured. His voice calling your name wasn’t enough to halt your exit from the hanger, as you continued walking away from him. 

  Tech shot a glance at the others before diverting from their path to follow you back to your apartment, quicking his strides as he attempted to gain on you. You weren’t really sure why you kept on, ignoring his calls for you to wait. Perhaps anger at Cid. Maybe frustration at the situation. Or a feeling you couldn't quite put your finger on - either way you kept walking, rushing up the stairs as he was hot on your heels. 

  Just as you opened the door to your flat with a shoosh, Tech shoved his foot in the door before you could close it, pushing his way inside before you could lock him out. A bit presumptuous, but a small part of you felt relief seeing him make it in before you shut the world out. 

  “You heard me calling after you,” he said bluntly. 

  “I did,” you tell him, catching your breath from running, scowling when you realized that he didn’t have the same issue. Curse those genetically modified lungs. 

  “So why did you keep going?” He asked you, staring down at you. His helmet still held in his hands as you shifted your weight to the other leg, uncertain how to answer. 

  “I am not sure,” you tell him honestly. He pauses, before speaking. 

  “Do you wish for me to leave?” 

  You shake your head. 

  “Do you wish for me to stay with you?” 

  You nod. 

  He lets out a deep breath, setting the helmet on the table right near the door and probing his temple with his extremely long fingers. 

  “Should we just sit? Talk? What can I do? I need direction on how you wish to proceed,” he quietly begged as he set down the heavy backpack and removed the utility belt. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here and easily began stripping down to his blacks. 

  You didn’t respond, using your toes to put pressure on each of your heels as you slipped out of the worn leather boots and made quiet footfalls to your bed, sitting on it as you looked out the window. The electrical storm your devices predicted would be starting any minute. Despite the more destructive tendency they had, you thoroughly enjoyed watching them - even if they knocked out the power temporarily from time to time. 

  Tech watched you from near the entryway, your legs tucked up near your chest as you stared out the window, chin resting on your knees. Following behind you he made his way to your bed, neglecting how uncertain it felt as he lowered himself onto the comfortable surface. Never having sat on it before, he was surprised the way he sank into the plush material of your duvet. Sitting at the end of the bed, while you had propped yourself up near the wall, there was still a sizable distance between you both.  

  “We don’t have to talk if you do not wish, but may I try something-” he asked and you nodded, not tearing your eyes away from the first few flashes of light. 

  Gentle hands pried your shoulders away from where your legs were pushed up, as he pulled you back with ease. Positioning his body between yours and the wall, Tech arranged you between his long legs, leaning you back once more onto his chest. Arms dancing along your waist, he wasn’t sure if he should fully hold you or allow you to just rest against him, but something internal told him that this position was appropriate given the circumstances. 

  You made the call for him, pulling his arms up across your chest, sinking back into him more, eyes drifting close momentarily as he brushed the hair from your right shoulder to over your left. Soon his nose found the back of your neck as he leaned into your body, picking up the faint hint of the perfume you must’ve applied there hours ago. 

  “I am sorry that you got caught in the crossfire between Cid, Roland and the Pykes,” he whispered against your skin. 

  “It’s Cid’s fault, not yours,” you whisper, enjoying the way his exhales felt against the delicate skin of your neck. He doesn’t speak immediately, pulling you tighter to his chest as you feel his heartbeat along your back.  

  “Had we not agreed to assist in stealing the spice to begin with, none of it would not have occurred the way in which it did,” Tech admitted the error in judgment which nearly cost you and Omega your lives. 

  “You were trying to help out Cid-” you tried to reason.

  “Which would’ve destroyed me if you had gotten hurt due to my poor decision to do so,” he whispered. 

  “Why is that Tech?” you whisper back, eyes watching the electrical storm pick up outside the window. 

  Once again he let the silence linger. Nervous to speak or not wanting to hurt your feelings with his response - you couldn’t be quite sure. Turning slightly, so that your shoulder rested against his chest to look at his face for answers. With the reflection of the window you couldn’t see his eyes.

  Deciding to be brave if he wasn’t, you lifted your hands, fingers probing the edges of the goggles that always adorned his face as you quietly asked, “may I?” He only nodded as you lifted them very carefully up and over his head, setting them down on the bed next to you. His eyes had closed when you started to lift them, so you had yet to see his eyes unobstructed. Not pushing him you turned back towards the window, allowing him to speak when he gathered the nerve. 

  “I don’t like the thoughts of you getting hurt because I-” he started to murmur once more, a baited breath entering your lungs and staying there as you waited for him to continue. The air stinging your lungs as you realized he had paused once more, softly blowing it back out past your lips as you repeated the action once more. 

  Tech gathered as much nerve as humanly possible. He could easily be thrust into high stress scenarios. Battles? No issues. Firefights with gangsters? He always had a plan. But when it came to you? He had no baseline to establish it from. Sure he had been intimate before with strangers when the opportunity presented itself. He found it to usually lead to an unsatisfying place in which he was pretending to be something he wasn’t. Usually forcing himself to touch them despite feeling repulsed at being that close with someone. But when he was in proximity to you things were different. 

  That spark of electricity often cited as being drawn out by a member of the opposite gender was present, catching him off guard every time your fingers crossed paths. He found your sweet aroma to be so intoxicating. The flash of your smile, utterly adorable. The face you made when you concentrated on a repair - where your tongue darted out of the corner of your full lips - to be nearly stunting. Everything about you he found captivating. 

  I care for you. 

  You almost didn’t hear him whisper it, as the volume was so minimal it barely passed over his lips audibly. Turning to face him once more, you saw the nervous eyes of a caged animal, finally unguarded by those yellow frames. 

  Brown. But not dark and unwavering like Hunters or tinged with the grayish hue of Echo’s. Wreckers one good eye had a more blue undertone and Omega’s were nearly hazel. But Tech  - Tech’s resembled honey. His iris illuminated with each flash of lightning from outside the window. And then suddenly, with a bright flash, the power went out, leaving you both in the dark as you continued to remain in his arms. Only sound being the matching pair of unsteady breathing.

  “Tech…?” you whispered, while he looked back down at your anticipating face. 

  “Yes?” Tech questioned, knots in his stomach as you hadn’t responded to his admission of caring for you. 

  “Would you do something for me?” you posed the question. 

  Tech was certain you were going to kick him out, despite the storm, or at the very least make him go downstairs to leave you alone. Your silence only told him that you were likely formulating a way to let him down gently because surely someone one like you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He was a clone. Clones stole your promising future. He frequently was unaware how to speak to you. His frustrations occasionally came out poorly as his jealousy for your knowledge plagued his mind. His blunt nature, often at odds with your proper socialization. You were perfect and he was just a copy of a man who was long gone, and a relic of an army that had been corrupted. 

  Distracted by his racing mind he almost didn’t hear you whisper it at the conclusion of his small nod. 

  Kiss me. 

  Tech did a double take, his attention snapping to you as your eyes locked with his own.  He couldn’t stop the lump that formed in his throat as your angelic eyes blinked up at him through your lashes. The distance between you insurmountable as, despite the seated position, he would always tower over you. His gangly limbs and narrow frame creating such a divergence between your sizes.

  “You want me to-” 

“Kiss me. Please.” You begged, eyes trying to catch his own to reassure him it is what you wanted. 

  You were growing concerned with the way his mind seemed to still be running astray. Perhaps he meant he cared for you in a similar way that he did Omega. Oh maker, what if he meant it that way. Suddenly you were glad the lights were off. That way he couldn’t see your crumbling self esteem and wavering confidence. You were certain when he spoke the way he had, paired with the many small moments mounting over the last months, that he liked you. Only now to realize he most likely hadn’t meant it in a non romantic way. 

  “Tech, I am so-” you began only to have his warm, ungloved hand find purchase on the side of your cheek, lips meeting yours in fury. 

  The first thing you noticed, when the shock wore off, was that his lips were so incredibly soft. How could a soldier, constantly on the run from danger, be this plush and inviting? That sharp wit and wise energy always spilling past these lips - the same ones that insulted you when you first met - now on your own in a heated embrace. 

  Soft sighs exiting your lips, entering his mouth as Tech opened his own to invite tongues to this lovely endeavor. He had hardly needed to caress your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue before you both fell into that wonderful song and dance of exploring each other’s mouths. 

  Breaking away due to the unfortunate need for air, you tried to see him the best you could with the limited lighting situation. His hand falling to the side of your neck instead of on your cheek, he pulled your forehead towards his, resting his nose against your own. Eyes searching yours for any sign to end this interaction. 

  “You are the most enchanting woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he admitted with a small chuckle, almost embarrassed of the words falling out of his mouth. Surely they resembled the words of a love drunken fool, not a soldier and engineer such as himself.  Perhaps that is because they came from his heart, not his logical mind. 

  “Please do that again,” you beg him, a smile working its way on your face as you trail a hand up his chest, finding stability by wrapping it around the back of his neck. Your breathing having leveled out from the heated exchange, just as he instigated another one. 

  This time, he didn’t wait to request entrance to your mouth, tongue slipping in almost immediately. As soon as he began kissing you once more, your hand traveled up into the brown locks that sat just against his collar, tangling in them, separating the obnoxious gel he insisted on using to keep it from matting inside his helmet. It made you long to see him first thing in the morning or right after getting out of the refresher - when his hair was wild and carefree. 

  That wasn’t the only thing that you wanted to come undone as he effortlessly pulled you from being on the bed in front of him into his lap, legs going around his thighs as you perched yourself against him. Tech’s wandering hands began as soon as your bottom left the bed, his large palm tracing over the skin of your clothed ass, caressing it before his fingers flexed, digging into the roundness as he groaned into your mouth. 

  Tech, despite his reservations for touching anyone, had always enjoyed the roundness of an ass under his feelings. Especially an unclothed one. His brothers, arguing for a pair of breasts as more appealing, but he would always remain on the team that supported his large hands grabbing the meat of an ass.  

  For someone so lanky, and much thinner than his brothers, Tech certainly had a hidden strength to his frame that you hadn’t anticipated. Briefly on display as he lifted you into his lap with ease, he continued to further prove his ability as his demanding hands found your hips and squeezed, bicep flexing as your free hand landed on his left arm. 

  You aren’t sure what possessed you to do it either, but breaking away from his lips as you trailed kisses over his cheekbones until you found the skin of his earlobe, nibbling it between your teeth all while he groaned. Watching the always poised and put together pilot turn to putty under your mouth and body, making that wet spot of arousal in your undergarments grow by the second. 

  As you continued to trail the nipping to his neck, you mumbled out something about his shirt being in the way, fingers reaching under the top near his lower back as you tried in vain to remove it from his body. Pulling back, since he had developed that unexplainable sense of urgency at your kissing, he stripped it away with skilled ease, tossing it to the floor with reckless abandon. 

  It was odd. When he normally removed the parts of his armor in your flat, they were carefully and methodically unlatched and organized in a neat pile. Now, rocking into his lap as you stared down into his wild eyes, the dynamic propelled into a direction you never could’ve dreamed. Something in the pair of you had shifted from just awkwardly maneuvering around each other to actively lighting that fuse within your bodies. 

  He didn’t allow you the chance to examine his unclothed top however, as he quickly reattached your lips to his, pulling you closer as his head tipped ever so slightly to the side, accommodating the clashing of teeth and tongues in the fury. Still anxious to know exactly what he was like under that thick black suit or vest he always wore, you allowed your fingers to act as your eyes in the moment, all while getting such a lovely taste of his mouth while you exhaled through your nose which was harshly pressed against his cheek from the intensity the kisses you’d both developed.

  Your hands trailed along his flamed but extremely solid body. Fingers finding purchase along the defined lines of his chest, and the valley that separated two pectorals that were much harsher than you would’ve anticipated given his much thinner frame. Sliding down, that same hand counted six definite sections in his abdomen as well, as you removed your lips from his in hast to such a much needed breath of air while your mind stilled. 

  Eyes finally seeing just how wonderful tanned skin of a soldier could be, you enjoyed the lovely view of dark hair trailing down just below his navel and into tight pants. The nearly vacant patch of hair along his chest meaning he either removed it or didn’t have it wasn’t a bother - you didn’t really love overly hairy men any way - as you gasp. He was the perfect blend of scars, moles, muscles, and… tattoos? 

  The chuckle that tore from your throat at the sight of black ink along his skin, was met with that ever so quizzical eyebrow as he flushed at your laugh. 

  “I must admit that laughter at the sight of one’s nakedness does not instill confidence,” he noted as you shook your head. 

  “I hadn’t expected you to have tattoos, it was more of a shock than a jest,” you comment, sliding back ever so slightly while remaining on his lap to get a good view. 

  “Why would you assume I would refrain from body modifications? You have seen Hunter’s face, and you’ve heard me mention our brother Crosshair-” he started as you placed your index finger along the seam of his lip, effectively silencing him with a sultry stare and the simple action. 

  “You just seem so much more straight laced than your brothers, I hadn’t expected you to cover yourself in something as trivial as artwork. But, that being said, I can’t help but find it so incredibly alluring…” you lean down to the simple ‘99’ tattooed along the same shoulder his armor detailed a similar marking, lips familiarizing yourself with the lines as you pulled back. 

  “I can assure you, despite my reserved nature, I am hardly straight laced, as you say,” he quipped, relinquishing the time he allowed you to study the marks in his bronze skin. He’d let you examine them some other time, possibly even with explanations of their origins. Right now, he was growing impatient. 

  Pulling you forward by the back of your neck, he changed his mind at the last moment, deciding that your collar bones sticking out of the shifted top you wore looked delectable, sucking them between his teeth as you squirmed along his lap once more. Satisfied with the mark it left in his wake, Tech found himself in your sex-hazed gaze once more. 

  “Tell me that you wish for this to continue. Please. I am not sure I can find it in myself to behave like a gentleman if you wish to stop much further than this,” he groaned, voice strained by a tone you had never heard from him. Tech’s voice was quite different from his brothers. The husky tone he now used, reminiscent of a crackling campfire as it came from the back of his throat, and laced itself into a pleasured groan. 

  “Please. I want this- I want you,” came your whisper into his jaw, lips grazing the sharp bone there.

  I want you. 

  Tech couldn’t remember a time he was truly wanted. Usually his hookups stemmed from mutual boredom or someone realizing his brothers weren’t interested in them. A system of happenstance, of convenience of simple chance and mutual need for release. But to be told that he was desired, and that an intimate connection was wanted with someone he actually cared for on a personal level? A first.  

  And as for you, you wouldn’t admit it out loud but things certainly got lonely on Ord Mantell. Those friends on Coruscant slowly lost interest once you departed, leaving you with just Cid and acquaintances. The rest of your time alone in a dingy workshop or flat hidden away from the world. That was until Tech and the others came around. He brought a sense of belonging you hadn’t known. He brought company you’d been craving. He made you feel seen, appreciated and cared for.

  He brought his hand up under your shirt and bra to cup your breast. 

  One of the first things you had noticed about him, all those rotations ago, was how long and dexterous his whole body was, but particularly his hands. Fingers so thin and nimble, wound with callouses, scars and distinguishable marks from his times tinkering. It had been rare to see him without gloves, but that barrier’s first time being removed showed just truly how captivating such a mundane body part could be. 

  These were the hands of a soldier. A man bred specifically for war. These were the hands of a pilot, who’s tight grip upon the steering wheel had saved thousands of lives. These were the hands of a fellow engineer and mechanic who understood the complexities of how your mind worked. These were the hands of a man who cared for you. 

  And those hands currently were squeezing your nipple with the perfect amount of firmness to make you purr. 

  Deciding that the only thing in the world you wished for right now was the feeling of his chest on your unclothed one, you pulled back, hands finding the bottom of your top as you flung it just as unceremoniously as he had done with his own. Tech wasted no time in finding the latches on your bra, unhooking the material and tossing it to the side as his hands finally held the weight of both your breasts within him. 

  Despite his larger than normal hand size, your breasts fit inside his palms like a perfect handful, while his thumbs continue that onslaught along your nipples, his lips finding that wonderful spot below your ear that makes you breathe heavily. 

  Your own hands, still running through his caramel locks while he worked your body with such expertise, tugging every now and again as he groaned against your neck between kisses and leaving smaller marks that would likely fade in only a few hours. 

  “Are you adequately protected?” came the husky question into your jaw, followed by another nip. 

  “Implant…” you hummed out, head falling to the side to accommodate his mouth as he snickered slightly in response. 

  Lifting you from his lap with no warning, Tech’s fingers found the latches of your pants with no problem, undoing them and tugging them down your legs as you wobbled from where you stood on the floor. Once they were lowered enough, Tech abruptly stood next to you, steading your arm as you stepped out of them, his feet stepping on the trousers in order to help you remove them easily. 

  Your face turned to meet his own, his body towering over your own as he looked down at you. Despite the full head’s distance between you both, and the darkness of the flat with the power being knocked out, you could still see the way his eyes darted from your full, unclothed breasts to the newly revealed skin of your legs. 

  One of his hands found purchase along your chin, tipping your face up even higher as you rose along your tiptoes to match his height the best you could. His other hand started along your mid back, trailing down until he found your panty clad rear, rubbing along the now exposed right cheek. 

  “Would you allow me to take charge here Mesh’la?” He asked gently, his hand still caressing your skin reverently, but despite the unexpected softness of the words and actions, you felt that with the look he gave you there was something more. Something almost predatory in his eyes. 

  “What does that mean?” you ask, unable to shake the curiosity at his use of the language you presumed to be Mando’a. 

  “Such an inquisitive mind you have…” he chuckled, using the hand on your chin to move your face to the side. Your eyes drifted close as he pressed a sweet his to the side of your face, trailing down more until he reached your ear. “I can’t get enough of that mind of yours,” he admitted, nibbling your earlobe once before continuing, hand tightening around your ass as the tone shifted. “Beautiful. It means beautiful. Which is exactly what you are, my mirdala girl…” he whispered so gently as he pulled back, hand dropping as he wound them both around your lower back. 

  “You keep using words I do not understand, and you have to realize I will continue to ask what they mean,” you tease with a small smile, hands finding his shoulders as you lock yourself in the embrace. Tech still had on trousers and you only had on underwear, but something about the stillness of it all, yet with contradictory the electrical storm raging outside, was strangely peaceful. Tearing clothes off one another and jumping into bed was one thing, but this, this was building towards something much more intimate. 

  “Clever. I called you my clever girl,” he nods your direction, fingers trailing up and down the expanse of your exposed back ever so slightly. 

  “Ah,” you thrum out as your lips tug at the corner into a small smirk, barely visible in the low lighting. “Your clever girl? I wasn’t aware you had claimed me. Sounds a bit possessive don’t you think?” 

  “I suppose it could be considered possessive, although I do not see you running away from the notion. I am to assume that not only are you fine with that, but based on the way your grip in my hair has just tightened and your pupils have dilated, that you want that. That you want me to claim you in some way,” he notes, and you realize he is correct. His attunement to your body language is uncanny as you hadn’t realized you had done so. Unable to form a response, you nod gently. 

  “If you wish for me to stop, at any point, all you need to do is say so. Do you understand,” Tech let one hand fall from your back, reaching for his belt and once again you nodded, causing him to pause. 

  “Verbally. I want verbal consent. You can do that for me right my clever girl?” he used the phrase once again and you shuttered. Something about the way his voice dribbled with arousal in the fact he found your mind to be brilliant brought forth a surge of confidence. 

  “Yes. I trust you Tech,” you speak calmly and clearly despite the shaking in your hands. Anticipation building to the point your body could not contain the excitement of what he had planned. 

  You barely caught the smirk on his thin lips before he gripped your hips and spun you around, pushing your back down as you got the memo, laying yourself across the bed as you heard the sound of the belt buckle being undone and pants abruptly being shoved to the floor. 

  Once again his hands resumed that gentle and reverant stroking along your backside as a hum spilled from his lips. Looking back over your shoulder you saw such a glorious sight. Tech’s hands wrapped around his length as he stroked it slightly with one hand while holding your ass in the other. He glanced up from your bottom to make eye contact briefly as he took his bottom lip under straight white teeth. 

  Pausing momentarily he saw the thin scrap of underwear disappearing between your lower cheeks and decided now was a good time to rid you of the offending material, grabbing them and tugging them down slightly until they landed near your knees, allowing you to step out of them. 

  His hand resumed its position on your body, but this time, it gently nudged you up onto the bed, and you complied with his nonverbal request, positioning your body just slightly up on the bed as you held yourself up on your knees. From behind you could hear the way Tech sucked in a breath between his clenched teeth as his hand found that spot along your backside once more. 

  You had deduced early in this exchange of kissing that he likely was a man who preferred a bottom to breasts. Most men had a likeness to one over the other, and Tech was no different. The knowledge made you feel proud, arching your back ever so slightly as if to present it to him in the most appealing way you could given the position. 

  “You look so wonderful like this. I wish you weren’t behaving so nicely, so I would have an excuse to bring my hand down on you and mark you right here. However I would feel guilty doing such actions when you are being so perfect,” he admitted and you smiled at the wall, glancing back over your shoulder at him. 

  “Who said you can’t anyway. I hardly need to be a brat in order for you to spa-” you began the permission and he quickly resolved himself to take it the second you had granted it. The smack, not nearly as hard as you were anticipating but still firm, filling the air and stopping your sentence midway as you let out a squeak at the contact. 

  Your biceps flexing as you locked your arms to maintain your position on the bed, holding yourself up as his hand soothed the red flushed skin with care and attention. Tracing the hand up, you felt him rest it along your upper back as his fingers hooked over your shoulder, and near your knees you felt the mattress dip ever so slightly. 

  Tech covered the expanse of your back with his body, his left arm coming up to the side of you as he braced himself up just hovering over your back, his right hand moving to brush your hair over your shoulder so that his nose could trace along your upper back. You could feel his eyelashes fluttering along the skin of your shoulder blades as he lowered his mouth to kiss your back a few times gently. 

  “So pliable for me…” he praised as he continued to issue praise in the form of tender kisses that slowly made their way ending with your sweat-dampened temple. 

  Tech had always had sexual relationships from behind. There was an impersonal attitude that came with engaging in the act similarly to the way animals did. Not seeing the woman’s face, and only focusing on the connection of his body with theirs - it made him feel less awkward about the exchange. But something about the way his body caved around yours felt right. He was touching your body with his own almost completely, and he nearly fainted when he realized that he was enjoying the contact. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the damp nature both your bodies had developed in the precursor to intercourse, he felt delighted knowing he’d caused such reactions. So against every previous metric in his mind for engaging in sexual relations, he manuvored your body to your back, so that you could stare up at him as he lowered himself on top of you. 

  Tech wasn’t sure how to quantify the way his stomach began to flutter at the way you stared at him, nor the way your velvety skin along his felt, other than bliss. Something about the intimacy shook him to the core. It made him want to come undone and he hadn’t even slid into you yet. 

  You were surprised as his ability to be tender, as his index finger pushed the hair back from your face, cupping the back of your neck to lift it from the pillow as he pulled the longer strands of your hair - which you’d uncomfortably been laying on - above and around your face like a halo. How he’d realized you were slightly uncomfortable with the tugging caused by your back, you’d never know, but you’d be grateful for long after this exchange nonetheless. 

  “I’ve never met someone who had made me experience what I am feeling at this present moment,” he admitted, his nose leaning down as he gently caressed your own. Keeping it there, his forehead soon pressed against your own as his eyes searched yours for a reply. 

  “What are you feeling?” you whisper, eyes focusing on his right iris as the pupil waivered slightly larger before he continued speaking. 

  “Bliss. Euphoria. Revelry. Perhaps those are words that I could use to quantify it, and yet-” Tech began, hand searching for yours as you allowed him to wrap his fingers around yours while you stared at him expectantly. Your legs widening to accommodate him as you feel his tip slide between your folds and line up expertly with your hole. You are uncertain what he is trying to say, and in all honesty it appears that he is as well. His eyes drift close as, in a rare turn of events, his body wins out over his mind, and he presses within you before completing his thought. You can’t stop the way your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, no point in remaining open if his own are closed anyway. 

  You had expected him to slide in slowly, as his sweet words and actions leading to this point had been cautious almost, but instead he is direct in the way his cock slides into you as if it’s coming home. As if he’s returning to a place he was always meant to be. The stretch is gone in an instant as he plows into you abruptly at first, but pausing as he reaches the entrance of your womb with his tip. “They do not come close to describing the way I feel right now,” he whispered, making your eyes fly open once more as you stare up at him.

  You have died and gone to the afterlife. The Pykes most certainly killed you and left you in an alley on Ord Mantell. That is the only logical explanation for the way you were feeling. The only thing you can do is affectionately tighten your grip on your joined hands as you raise your hips slightly, giving him permission to move. 

  Tech didn’t need to be encouraged twice, sliding in and out of you with joy as he held himself up with one of his arms. Your head falling back into the pillow as you lose yourself between his calculated thrusts, he decides that not being able to look into your eyes while he continues to make himself at home within your body isn’t what he wants.

  You feel his grip slipping from your hand and anticipate it will go to your breasts for a playful tug, but when you feel his fingers on your jaw, pulling your face back you once again look up at him, curiously. 

  “I. Want. To. See. Your. Eyes. On. Me.” he commands and you feel a shiver that starts near your neck and travels the length of your body as you nod, legs widening even further as he picks up the pace ever so slightly. 

  His hand abandons your chin as he places it along your side, raising your body at the hips so you can meet his thrusts, your eyes staring deeply into his own. Tech had surprised even himself in demanding to see you staring at him while he plowed into you, but something about watching your face as he pushed you both in the direction of release made him feel a pride he’d never known before. With each lewd noise coming from where you were joined, to each whimper or sigh leaving your lips, to the sweat he felt along his brow from exertion - he felt more of that blossoming heat in his stomach at the passion between your bodies. 

  You feel similarly, as you wrap your legs around his thin waist, holding him there so that your union is only intensified and he can reach that absolutely tender spot within your walls that becomes electric when he begins to repeatedly stimulate it over and over again with his steady thrusts. “Tech…” you whimpered as he continued his movement, no external indications that he is approaching orgasm, despite the fact it is true. 

  “Say my name again, please-” he whimpers as you nod, once again saying his name while he pushes inside of you especially hard, a yell tearing from your throat as your hips chant up after his retreat, wanting another harsh thrust. He delivers it immediately, his body pushing you into the bed as he begins frantically diving into you with reckless abandon. 

  “Where?” he demands, your hips held in his hand as his fingers squeeze harshly. You can tell he’s close now, the fire in his eyes doing nothing to dull the flames of desire that both of your bodies are feeling as he plunges into your warmth.

  “Inside-” you give him the permission and once again he does not hesitate to take it, his hand abandoning your waist in order to rub feverish circles upon your clit so that you approach orgasm the same time he does. Your voice calls out his name loudly as you feel every nerve ending within your body set ablaze. He responds to you, chanting yours in response as he pushes his load so deeply within your walls you gasp at the way his tip quivers against the opening of your womb. You feel the throbbing inside until he slows to a stop, body collapsing on top of yours as you both gasp for air. 

  His breathing, erratic against your neck as you push his now half gelled and half wild hair off his forehead while you slow your heart rate the best you can. He’s growing soft within you, but you can tell that even while flaccid he’s still larger than the average man. Tech eventually pulls back from your neck, eyes searching for yours as his hand cups the side of your face lovingly. 

  “You are incredible,” he comments kindly as you blush, feeling as he begins to slip from within you, his spill landing somewhere on the covers below you. You don’t really care. You can clean it later. 

  “So are you,” you return the compliment as he smiles, leaning in to kiss you once more, this time only using his lips in order to show affection not reignite the passion of your endeavor. 

  “Yes, but I was genetically engineered that way. You have come by your splendor naturally,” Tech replies as you laugh, lights immediately flickering back on as you both startle at the suddenness of seeing each other without the dulled darkness of your flat. 

  “That is one way to put it. Still doesn’t make you any less wonderful Tech,” you tell him, immediately feeling more self conscious with the added light. This becomes something he notices almost immediately, as he leans up to get a better view of you. Your body was covered in small love bites and a few bruises from where he’d gripped a bit too hard. Lips swollen from his kisses and sweat covering all of you. Hair disheveled and yet - you looked like the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

  “And I thought you were lovely in the twilight, but my dear you look positively exquisite,” he encourages you as he lowers his mouth to your brow before kisses between your eyebrows and then over each closed eyelid. 

  “Such a way with words,”  you say sweetly and he immediately begins snickering as you blink confused at his outburst. 

  “If I recall, the first time we met, I insulted your ability to fix Cid’s gambling device” he reminds her. It seemed so long ago he had done that, and from then you had only grown closer. Finding a mutual understanding. Finding friendship. Finding the beginnings of love. 

  “You did,” you scoff at the memory. 

  “I remember crawling under the control panel and when you yelped, thinking that I thought I was going to stop breathing,” Tech admits and you are surprised. 

  “What do you mean?” 

  “I just couldn’t help but think that I had suddenly found myself in close proximity with a very beautiful woman. And that feeling only intensified once I discovered your love of engineering. Since then it’s grown to a point I find it distracting,” Tech explains and you smile. 

  “Oh so you really like me then,” you chide, almost childishly as he rolls his eyes at your antics. 

  “I believe the fact that my seed is actively leaking out of you to be sufficient proof as to my interest in you,” he bluntly states. You grimace looking down at the sheer quantity of said mess. It was more than you realized. 

  “Would you like to get in the refres-”

“Yes,” he cuts you off abruptly as you laugh. You figured he wouldn’t enjoy being unclean. He lifts his body off of you with ease and holds out a hand to help you rise from the bed. 

  “I am going to want a full detailed report on all of these,” you tell him, finger tracing one of the tattoos on his shoulder. 

  “I believe I can arrange that,” he chides with a small peck to your forehead, pulling you along to the small shower stall your flat has. 

  As he walks just ahead of you, you can’t help but think that this blossoming romance might have been worth the emergency landing on Ord Mantell all those years ago. 

The end.

[arkivsantorina]

But if you hold me without hurting me (r. stark)

But if you hold me without hurting me r. stark imagine

Pt. 5 of Oh, all I used to do was pray, Right when I felt the moment stop, And I might be ok, but I'm not fine at all, And the life I gave away

Pairings - Robb Stark x female!Reader

Summary - You have a long-awaited conversation with Robb. It changes things between the two of you.

Word Count - 1,133 words

Warnings - Angst, Possibly unbearable cheesiness

A/N - I broke the Taylor Swift title streak. In my defense, I have been a LDR stan since middle school and Cinnamon Girl makes me sob every time I listen to it.

Songs I listened to while writing: Like Real People Do (Hozier), Cinnamon Girl, Carmen (Lana Del Rey), Me and My Husband (Mitski)

Robb feels his heart start to beat erratically as he watches you and Jon. It is obvious that you care deeply about Jon as he does you. Robb knows that he has walked in on something private, feeling jealous but also wishing that he could be the one to comfort you as such. Your moment with Jon is interrupted when Robb clears his throat in order to make you aware of his entrance into your chambers. The sound startles you and causes you to turn in Robb’s direction. Jon also turns to look at Robb, his expression wary that Robb would misinterpret the scene.

Robb begins to speak slowly but his voice cracks ever so slightly, his heart contracting in his chest due to an onslaught of emotions. “Am I interrupting anything?”

You quickly regain your composure. “No, my lord husband, you are not. I lost a letter earlier today. Jon has calmed me down and agreed to help look for it.” You dismiss Jon from your chambers, assuring him that you will be okay. 

Jon locks eyes with Robb as he leaves. Tensions eased between him and Robb once he saw Robb trying to fix everything. However, Jon still continues to be an advocate for you. His brother looks back at him, eyes filled with questions he knows Jon cannot answer. Robb just needs to know that you are going to be okay, regardless of what happened. 

Your husband takes a step closer to you. He looks into your eyes, searching for the pain that he knows must be there. You are a strong woman but no one should be subjected to the kind of abuse that the letter contained. As he moves closer, you notice the letter crumpled in Robb’s fist. “Ah. It seems as I I do not need to search for the letter.” You say with a sad smile, “I take it that you have seen what my father thinks of me?”

Looking down at the letter once again, Robb scowls. The fury that had been burning inside of him returns to the surface. His head shakes in disgust and he quickly closes his fist tighter around the letter, as if the action would make the item disappear from existence. Robb nods once in acknowledgment of her question. “I did. It is nothing less than disgraceful.” He draws his eyes up to meet yours. Robb’s voice shakes with thinly veiled anger. “Your father is a cruel, cruel man. To say such things to you, his own daughter…well, it is unforgivable.” He says the last word through gritted teeth.

You motion for Robb to sit next to you. In your almost year of marriage, this is the first time that you have actually asked him to be near you. It seems as if he has realized this fact as well if his hesitancy is anything to go off of. Robb’s nervous movements are in stark contrast to your controlled stillness. A couple moments pass between you two before you begin to talk. Long-awaited and much-needed words begin this conversation. “It’s cruel but what he says is true. I have failed in my duty as a wife. I should have given you an heir by now.” 

Completely stunned is how the maesters would describe Robb if they were here to record this meeting. You are still calling him your husband, even after everything he has done, but you are voicing something that Robb would never want to believe. Yes, it is a wife’s and therefore your duty to give him an heir, but he would never, never force you to conceive if you were not yet ready. He turns to face the fireplace, staring into the flickering flames as he realizes how truly damaged you have been from a childhood in the Frey household and the months as his wife. Both of you have tried to do everything that has been expected of you, yet it is you who has suffered the most and continues to endure. Robb is angry at the world. Angry at the cruel words of your father. Angry at himself for the way he has treated you. Sighing deeply, he speaks after gathering his emotions. “Do not let them make you believe that this is your fault. It takes two to make a child. I am just as much to blame for the situation we find ourselves in…” 

Robb’s words trail off when he feels you place your head on his shoulder. It seems to be a night of firsts. Much like you never asked him to be near you, you have never initiated any sort of physical comfort. You both enjoy the feeling until you bring Robb back to reality with your voice breaking the silence. “I don’t blame you for anything. I want you to know that. You were forced to marry me, forced to make me your queen, while you still loved Talisa. Why would you want to leave her side for a Frey, especially when Talisa was carrying your child? I ruined your life.”

Feeling a tear soak into the shoulder of his tunic, Robb tilts your head up so he can see you clearly. “You didn’t ruin my life. I made a deal with your father. I knew what I was agreeing to when I crossed the bridge.” He reaches his thumb to brush the tears off your face. “This is not your burden to bear. It is something we must share. Something we must work through so that we can grow together. Something I should have worked harder on at the beginning of our marriage.” Your husband sighs deeply and shakes his head, trying to accept how much he has just spoken. Robb comes to the startling realization that he has never voiced this sentiment to you before, much less even admitted it to himself. 

“Thank you. I need to hear those words said to me.” You say and place a gentle kiss on Robb’s cheek. A blush spreads across your face as you do so.

He freezes when he feels your lips brush against his skin. A matching pink tint blotches his cheeks like yours did. This is the first time you have shown affection for him and it feels…good. Robb smiles and leans over to place a kiss on your forehead, wanting to continue this newfound physical affection that you have started. “I’m here for you. I know I haven’t been in the past, but from this moment forward, I will always be here for you my queen.” The increased presence of his Northern accent betrays the emotions that are overwhelming him. Staring into your eyes, his gaze reveals nothing but honesty and sincerity in his gaze. Robb meant every word he said to you tonight. 

A/N - Once again, thank you so much for reading. My ask box is always open for requests, comments, or if just want to gush about our lovely Stark boys.

[restwellsoon]

Nothing in Particular | Chapter 5 - To Say What You Mean and Mean What You Say Pt. 2

Pairing: Omota Uramichi x F!Reader

Summary: A series of unexpected encounters and misunderstandings causes you to fill a large and gaping hole in Uramichi’s life.

Minors and blank blogs DNI! You will be blocked!

Warnings: unprotected sex

“Well ? Are you gonna spill everything that’s happened, or do I have to ask you everything I’ve been wondering, question by question?”

The menu distracted you both for a few minutes, but after the server took your order, Utano went straight to business. You’d left her hanging for weeks, and work had kept you both apart. Whatever was going on between you and Uramichi hadn’t left her mind, and she needed to get updates from you since Uramichi was difficult to corner and get alone.

As if you forgot what had happened in your own life, Utano decided to provide a refresher. “Where did we leave off?” The server brought your drinks first, and she dramatically sipped on her tea, pondering slowly until she grinned. “Ahh, yes. You and Uramichi took the train together after the work party and…?”

“And I slept over at his place,” you said slowly, copying her behavior and drinking yourself.

She wiggled her eyebrows and her eyes sparkled. For a moment, she ignored the fact that her friend might have had sex with her depressing co-worker. “So you two…?”

Pretending to look for your food’s arrival and commenting on the other treats that passed by, you tried to avoid describing what really happened for as long as possible. Utano rolled her eyes at your stalling.

Finally, you cleared your throat, speaking as quietly as you could. “No. I uh–I got really drunk, stripped down to my underwear, crawled into his bed, and made Uramichi sleep on the floor.”

Utano laughed, like really laughed. It was one of those ones that came from the belly, and she even knocked over her fork while doing so, drawing others’ attention to you temporarily.

“If it makes you feel better,” she said in-between wheezing and thanking a worker for bringing her a clean utensil, “he probably chose to sleep on the floor, so you wouldn’t freak out in the morning.”

Staring at the amber liquid in your cup, you considered this new perspective. All this time, you’d been lamenting over your bad behavior, unsure of even where to start with your apology or if you should even say anything at all. Uramichi truly was a kind person.

“You’re smiling into your drink,” Utano commented, cheek in hand as she side-eyed all of the desserts that passed by. She was growing impatient.

“You said he was intense, but I think he’s more considerate if anything,” you said.

“Intensity doesn’t nullify consideration,” Utano reminded you. “If anything, he’s considerate to the point that it might be…” 

She paused, trying to think of how to describe Uramichi without going into too much detail. Uramichi would rather wear the most humiliating outfits to get the scene over with than protest with the costume department. If the kids were having fun, Uramichi would pick them up and play with them for as long as they wanted despite all of his aches and pains. Hell, Iketeru told her that Uramichi sat through an awkward work dinner where he was berated for something trivial so Kikaku wouldn’t get in trouble.

“Self-destructive.”

Her words were heavy, and they sank down in your gut along with the cake you ordered.

“How sad,” you finally commented, unable to find another other word that was more fitting. You swirled the last remaining bit of tea in your cup. “I hope he finds happiness one day.”

Having known each other for nearly four years now, Utano said, “Oh, that won’t happen. The darkness in his eyes has slowly eaten away at him ☆”

It was true too. They all found Together with Maman during the darkest points in their lives, yet while Iketeru and her own demons retreated, Uramichi seemed to commune with his own. Rather than hopelessness, apathy had befallen him, leaving him spineless. 

But was Uramichi really spineless? Utano wondered. Or was he simply trying his best to game life? After all, they were at the mercy of their employers and needed to work in order to survive. It was difficult to be happy when you were just doing your best to stay alive.

“That’s just adulthood,” you confirmed, not understanding where Uramichi’s co-workers were coming from. Perhaps it was because you didn’t know him well-enough, but you still stood by that thought you first had of him. He was that beautiful doll that sat on the shelf, the one that never got played with.

“But yeah. Yesterday–or I guess this morning?–he and um, Us–Usa…? The blond , coincidentally ended up staying at my place cuz they drank too much. Uramichi and I shared my bed.”

“ And ?” Utano said impatiently. It was only naturally for someone who was in a committed, happy, and long-term relationship to live vicariously through their friends’ disastrous love lives.

“...and we just slept,” you said gloomily. 

Dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin, you were impressed per usual with Utano’s ability to eat and show nothing for it. You supposed that chasing children on set and dancing also helped with maintaining her figure.

“And if you didn’t ?” Utano pretended for a minute that the man you were interested in wasn’t her co-worker. “Would you complain then that he didn’t want to date you?”

“Are you on my side or his?” You joked, understanding what she was trying to say. Utano had the misfortune of being privy to your dating mishaps in your 20s until you gave up altogether. If you wanted something casual, they were too serious, and vice versa. She was curious to know what you wanted in your 30s now that you were wiser.

“I don’t care if we date.” She shot you a look. “ Really , I don’t. I learned my lesson from last time. But what I told you before was true. I’m not looking for anything in particular, but I’m open to seeing where this road takes me.”

Her features twisted into disbelief. “I remember saying that years ago.”

Knowing that the conversation was going into dangerous territory you shrugged.

—

“And get this! This dude was so drunk, he said that some konbini angel saved us,” Usahara laughed, pointing that dude out as Uramichi. “So who was it, Uramichi, huh? I’m sure it was one of your gymnast friends from the past. Quit trying to be cool and mysterious, dude. I bet it was Supermura , wasn’t it?”

Iketeru looked at Uramichi expectantly while Kumatani couldn’t have cared less. Utano was disinterested in the conversation completely, scrolling and tapping away at her phone.

He sighed, already at his breaking point. Uramichi clocked in less than ten minutes ago too. This was a new record. If it weren’t for this ridiculous 8 AM meeting, he would have stalked off to the smoke room for a break, but instead, he had to make small talk at this ungodly hour because of Derekida and Furode who were unsurprisingly late.

Right on cue, the door burst. Derekida and Furode strolled languidly, to-go coffee cups in hand. They were 45 minutes late.

“Everyone here?” Furode asked. Using his sunglasses as a headband, he fished for the rolled up papers in his back pocket before sitting down. Neither of them bothered to actually check before talking. 

“Well, since no one said anything, that must mean we’re all here. So,” he cleared his voice, smoothing out the papers. The cast did their best to hide their expressions as he repeated the process twice before speaking again. “Talent’s off for the next three days. Paid too . The writers and big wigs gotta think of a game plan for how we’ll promote Uramichi for the Galaxy Awards nomination. So rest up. We’ll be busy in the upcoming months–Uramichi especially.”

The cast sat silently as they let the producer’s words sink in. Three paid days off? Should they be worried of possible layoffs or an unexpected announcement about series cancelation? No, no, no. Furode said this was for the Galaxy Awards. There was no way that MHK, the greedy bastards that they were, would let their cash cow die. A more reasonable action would be for them to review their time cards. They were most likely taking their time from their PTO bank instead.

Uramichi in particular didn’t like the good news that was announced, trying to process just how busy he might possibly be. Anxiety bubbled up at the thought of long stretches of overtime and traveling from shoot to shoot and interview to interview. If awards shows were anything like athletic meets and competitions…

Glancing over at the gymnast oniisan, Iketeru couldn’t help but admire Uramichi’s expression. He looked determined–no, motivated–by their boss’ words. “You can do it, oniisan,” he cheered his co-host on, though he doubted that he needed it until Uramichi responded. 

“Can I…?” He whispered back into the void, not looking at Iketeru or anything else for that matter. “Just thinking about it already exhausts me.”

“So uh, is that all for today?” Usahara dared to ask. Uramichi and Iketeru looked as if they talking about philosophy while Kumatani wore that blank expression that meant he was zoning out. Utano still scrolled, although more discreetly, on her phone.

Derekida looked up, using an index finger to push up his slipping sunglasses. “Oh, you’re still here?” He waved them off while looking back at Furode’s rolled up papers. “Yeah, that’s it for today. Now scram . The writers need to use this room in ten.”

Following his directions as always, they left, moving in silence as a group. Their footsteps echoed in the halls until finally they left the building. Once free from the shackles of work, they took in the bright sun and fresh air.

Iketeru glanced at his watch before asking if anyone knew the time. It was nine on the dot. 

Yes, the sun was shining brightly. (No vengeful sun spirits here.) The air was fresh. The birds even sang to ring in their three days of freedom.

But rather than taking a moment to smell the roses, they collectively sighed. The sun’s glare hurt their eyes. The fresh air hurt their lungs, which were too used to the stagnant air of the closed set. The birds’ songs reminded them of the shrill screams of the children.

Most importantly though, they realized something with the righteous anger only known to those who’d been working too hard and for far too long–this meeting should have been a fucking email.

—

Guess what~

You reacted to Utano’s text with a ? reaction, not bothering to guess. You’d been working since 4 am to deal with an overseas client.

I have the next three days off since the higher ups are thinking of ways to promo Uramichi’s nom ヾ(*´ ∇ `)ﾉ

Your eyes narrowed as you typed, disregarding the ellipses that indicated that Utano was still typing.

Good for you …which means that Uramichi also has the next three days off He should rest then since he’ll be busy Or maybe you can rock his world for a few hours (or days) LOL

She flipped her phone around for a moment. Who knew that playing cupid could be so fun.

And before you try to say that you have work, I know you can use your PTO or have someone cover you for a few hours. C’mon boss lady, use that power for a dick down\(♡´౪<♡)/

God, she knew you too well. You deleted your response about having to work tomorrow, hitting a button so you no longer had to look at your conversation. Staring at the dark screen, you wondered if you should take this opportunity.

When he came over, he basically said that he was down to fuck, even if he didn’t say it directly. You recalled his words for a moment–”When I miss you again, I’ll be good to you the next time we meet”–and you wondered if maybe he’d be interested in something more. With how vague his words were and how confusing he was, being good to you could mean a lot of things: good sex, no teasing, treating you well… Your mind wandered for a moment into a daydream, imagining Uramichi being good to you as a partner until it was interrupted by Utano’s laughter.

You shook your head.

“Yeah, well, of course I have to at least try,” you said to yourself, laughing at your hesitation. 

—

From the corner of his eye, Uramichi could see his phone screen light up, but he didn’t dare to fully look at it otherwise he’d break his form. He stayed in his full planche hold for another five breaths, slowly letting his body rest on the sixth. He rolled out the tension from his body, grabbing his phone during his rest period.

A smile almost crept on his face when your name popped up on his notifications. He was grateful though that he didn't when he read the body of your message.

Good evening, When you’re free, I’d like to talk to you.

Uramichi felt bad for your subordinates whose jobs depended on their ability to understand what you meant. He reread your message three times. This had to be about something bad, right?

Sure ◉‿◉ I’m at the gym right now, but I can call you once I’m done

He was surprised by how quickly you responded.

You’re working out at this hour? Impressive. Have a good workout, and if you’re too tired after, don’t worry about calling. It’s not that important 

His timer rang, telling him that he needed to get back to work. Finished with his planches, he thought that doing a few extra lifts would help him gather his thoughts. As Uramichi loaded the plates onto the bar, he wondered if maybe he should take a picture of himself at the gym. He had a good pump going on, so maybe he could impress you even more.

He switched over to the other side to load the same amount. No, that was stupid. Besides, the thought of him taking a selfie was already making him embarrassed.

Settling himself on the bench, he thought that maybe you’d want proof that he was at the gym instead of making excuses for avoiding the conversation. If it wasn’t that important, you wouldn’t have asked to speak about it, you would have texted him instead.

Gripping the bar in his hands, he lifted it off the support, grunting as he lowered it and pushed, wavering slightly before he reset it. Something wasn’t right.

“That’s why…” he mumbled to himself, realizing that he accidentally doubled the amount of plates on each side.

Maybe it would be best if he left–to prevent an injury and to take a selfie in the comfort of his own bathroom.

—

With his towel wrapped around his waist, Uramichi looked at himself in the mirror, flexing and relaxing his well-deserved body. Years of training kept him strong and defined physically, but his mental fortitude was lacking. His fingers shook while trying to capture a picture of himself, all of them blurry, until he gave up. What an embarrassment.

He should have just called you instead of wasting his own time.

“Hello?” You said on the other line. “Uramichi?”

Suddenly he was nervous, staring at your name on the screen. This had to be something serious. Did you not want to see him anymore? He wasn’t sure if he could act like a stranger around you. How would he face Utano? “ Hi. ”

“Thanks for calling me,” you said, glancing at the time on your kitchen clock. “I know it’s late.”

“It’s not that late,” Uramichi tried to argue. 

Your clock said that it was 10:45 PM.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

It was your turn to pause, unsure of how to even start the conversation. Would it have been better to text it instead? But typing it out was more embarrassing than saying it though. It meant that you consciously chose the words that you did, read it as a fully formed sentence and still decided to text that. You would have stared at your screen until he responded.

“Utano said that you have tomorrow off.”

“Yeah, the next day too,” he said before explaining that it had to do with the Galaxy Awards. “It’s nice to finally be rewarded for my hard work with an actual break instead of more work.”

Did he want to spend tomorrow relaxing instead? A part of you felt guilty for your selfish request, but still, you started it, so you had to see it through.

“I’m off tomorrow too actually, so I was wondering—”

“—Oh that’s great,” he said, cutting you off. “You work so hard. Wanna hang out ?”

You let out a shaky breath, both relieved and surprised that he wanted to spend time with you. You weren’t being selfish after all.

Hearing your sigh on the other end, Uramichi wondered if you were annoyed. He sounded desperate to be with you, didn’t he? He should have let you finish instead of excitedly asking for your time.

“I’d love to, but um—can we do that thing we talked about last time?”

His silence meant that he didn’t remember, you thought. This conversation is over the phone, you reminded yourself, you can blurt it out, and if it gets awkward, you can hang up, block him and never go to Utano’s work ever again.

“Can I fuck you?”

The silence was heavy, and you double checked your phone to make sure that you didn’t reflexively hang up and blocked him. His name still showed up on the screen, and it counted how long you’d been talking for.

Uramichi didn’t know how to react, grateful that his phone sat on the counter. Both hands were placed on either side of it, and he leaned over, staring himself in the mirror. His face was bright red up to his ears, and the color reached down to his neck and the chest that he was so proud of.

“Sorry,” you started to apologize, “that was out of line, and–”

“Yeah,” he finally said, voice breathy and low. “Can I fuck you too?”

He felt like a fool.

You laughed quietly. Uramichi had a silly way of responding at times. “I’d love that. Can I come over to your place?”

This time, he made sure to answer quickly.

—

Ten o’clock was far too early to come over, and Uramichi regretted giving you that time. After sleeping in, he spent nearly an hour debating on whether or not he should go to the gym. He didn’t want his routine to be off, but he also didn’t want to be tired for the rest of the day. After squeezing in a quick lift, he tidied up his place, pushing his dumbbells into a corner and stuffing his oversized baguette pillow and Kotori-san into a closet.

He nearly tore the front door off its hinges when he heard a knock and then consequently slammed it when he realized it was just solicitors. That made him slower to respond to the second knock five minutes after. He sprinted to the door when he saw you calling.

You greeted him in a sundress that teased the body beneath the fabric. It seemed like you wanted to cling to the last bit of summer before things cooled down, legs bare aside from a set of strappy sandals. If Uramichi saw you on the street, he would have guessed that you were on your way to a date. Instead, you were here, meeting him at his apartment. He didn’t have too long to dwell on what a date with you might entail; by asking him if you could come in, you interrupted his thoughts.

Like the first time you met, he took you with him.

Uramichi spent too much time cleaning to think about how he would set the mood. Luckily you had gone over the boring things over the phone–yes to condoms, yeah you both were clean–but all that was left was, well, sex . It was too early to drink and he already smoked when he got out of bed. Sobriety made him hyperaware and he hated it.

“Wanna meet me in bed while I wash up?” You suggested.

He slackened his grip once you were inside, but now his hand loosely held yours in an awkward state of close but not close enough. The proximity made you self-conscious. The sun was brighter than you expected, and you were worried about your sweat.

“That’s fine,” he said, still holding your hand. “Not sure if you remember where the bathroom is, but it’s over there,” he said, pointing with his free hand. The fuzzy memory of Uramichi’s apartment became clearer with sober eyes. “Then my bedroom is that door beside it.”

He let go after dropping you off in front of the bathroom room, quickly stripping down to his boxers. The door creaked slightly, making him jump, and he was surprised to see you standing there.

“Can you help me unzip my dress?” You asked shyly, already half-turning around. “The zipper’s stuck,” you explained.

There was something incredibly intimate about holding your hair aside, so Uramichi could focus on helping you undress. An hour before you arrived, you agonized over what to wear, unsure of what impression you wanted to leave him with. You settled on a sundress, unassuming yet deceivingly sexy, but forgot the reason why you hardly wore it until it came to taking it off.

One palm pressed gently against your shoulder to create tension for the zipper to slide, and with a soft tug, it finally slid down with little resistance. His hands pushed down the sleeves, and the rest of the fabric fell with it. Now he could see and feel your bare skin. You were on fire.

Scanning over the details of your lingerie–because that was the only thing that it could be with all of the lace and sheer gauze that adorned it–he habitually clicked his tongue, being reminded of all of the costumes he wore for work. He mumbled something about it looking inconvenient.

“Thanks,” you said, turning to face him. 

If the back was inconvenient, then the front was troublesome. Sheer bra cups barely hid your breasts from him with the lace appliques that covered your nipples, the only bit of modesty that you had. The sheer material had covered enough of your bottom, but in the front, it dipped low, as if guiding the eyes down to where it wanted the wearer to look.

It was clear that Uramichi was uncomfortable, and you never had the chance to ask if he’d done something casual like this before. You supposed that it was fortunate that you were more experienced in these matters.

“Let’s lay down and talk,” you told him, giving him a light push onto the bed. He scrambled to give you space, but you crawled right beside him.

Uramichi wondered if this was how things would have been if you didn’t fall asleep before he could join you, with you taking the lead. 

“So how have you been? Your friend must have had a bad hangover.”

Not really wanting to talk about Usahara, he gave in to this being a better option than letting silence fall between you. He didn’t bother correcting you on the friend part, only commenting, “Yeah, but his body is used to that by now.”

“And what about you, Michi?”

“Oh, I wasn’t hungover at all. I only had a few drinks.”

“Yeah, I know you’ve got a high tolerance, which is why…” you trailed off, remembering that he said you couldn’t bring him back to your place because of it. “Ah, sorry. I was just remembering what you said. You’re funny. ”

Uramichi didn’t understand why you thought he was funny for saying that, but now he understood why Usahara wants to be funny so badly. Your voice softened when you said that, and your eyes looked into his to make sure he heard you. Your lips sat in a half smile as if he was the only man in the world that could make you laugh. If this was his reward for being funny, then yeah, it was something he’d strive for.

“I might have acted recklessly again,” you admitted, “so let’s take things slow if you want. I want this to be fun for both of us.”

“Well then, what do you like?”

Surprised by Uramichi’s question, you blurted out, “Oh, like sexually?” Well duh, obviously. “Um, I wouldn’t mind if you were a little mean to me in bed…” Suddenly you were shy.

“Oh, like over the weekend?”

He was so direct. You couldn’t face him but let out a quiet ‘yes.’ That judgemental ‘hm’ he let out was exciting and embarrassing all at once.

“What about you?” You asked, thinking it was unfair that all of the attention was on you. It was time to turn the tables on Uramichi.

“A lot of kissing,” he said. Despite his bluntness from earlier, he couldn’t look you in the eyes. “You can also be loud if you want. I don’t hate that.”

Somehow your bodies had inched closer to each other, and you felt each other’s heat. “It must have been torture then, to tell me to quiet down,” you teased.

He tried to downplay it. “It wasn’t that bad, but it could have been worse if things went on for longer.”

Hunger shone in both your eyes, and you moved closed until finally you kissed. The impact was soft but grew with neediness as each second passed. Your tongues explored each other’s mouths, nipping and sucking the meaty part of your lips. Hands clutched as whatever they could grab, kneading and rubbing, as your lower halves found friction in each other.

Uramichi was the first to break away, getting on top and settling between your thighs. He stared down at your heaving chest, your bruised lips, your disheveled hair. Your nipples teased him from behind your bra, and it was then that he decided to suck on them. It was a good choice. You yelped in surprise, tugging at his hair. You made another noise when he used his hand to pinch the other one. By the time he was done, your bra was wet with his spit, so he trailed his kisses downwards.

“You’re wet already?” He asked, glancing down at the slick fabric that barely clothed your sex. 

With utter fascination, Uramichi traced his index finger along your slit, the damp cloth sticking to your skin. He retraced the movement a few more times, watching as it molded to the outline of your cunt. On his last way down, his finger dipped in a little, pushing the wet fabric inside. You groaned, shifting from the intrusion. 

In a shift of energy and intention, you both hurried to remove what remained of your clothes. You ended up helping Uramichi slide off his boxers since you wiggled out of your lingerie set first.

He loved the way your face looked when you saw his cock, eyes widening as your mouth hung open. He didn’t think his size was anything impressive, but the look in your eyes when they finally met his told him that he was wrong. There was a clear expression of approval and better yet excitement .

But he couldn’t think of all the things that you wanted to do to him because he was focused on everything he wanted to do to you. He ducked down between your thighs to get a better look at what he wanted. Your pussy was puffy and shone with your wetness, making a squelching noise when he used two fingers to spread your lips. Impulsively, he leaned forward to give your clit a kiss, making you moan and drag him closer with one of your legs. 

Gently pushing one finger in, he glanced up to check your reaction, moving knuckle by knuckle until it hilted. Your brows knitted together and your hips shifted. You wanted him to move. Uramichi pumped his finger, watching the way you sucked him back in, ears perked up to the sound of your contented sighs.

Since you took one finger well, he thought another wouldn’t hurt, but you bucked up into his face. Apparently it was too much.

His apology came out muffled from his position, fingers still in remorse.

“It’s fine,” you breathed out, “your fingers are just bigger than mine, so I’m not used to them yet.”

Your face scrunched up and your lips were twisted, back arched in an uncomfortable position. Uramichi tried to think of how he could comfort you when you returned to silence. As always, he returned to his training.

“Breathe through it,” he said. Breathing helped the body relax, which you needed if either of you wanted to have sex. “How do you expect to take my cock if you can’t even handle two fingers?” He didn’t mention that it’d probably be best if he added in a third to prep you.

It seemed that Uramichi took your preference into consideration, speaking in that dark tone of his. Your body felt impossibly hot, and finally you let out a few ragged breaths, a wordless way of telling Uramichi to go on.

Going at an even pace, Uramichi reveled in the wet noises your pussy made, daring to go even faster. You still weren’t talking, just breathing heavily with the occasional groan. 

His fingers curled up when he felt a soft, tender spot. Your back arched again, and he continued to press there. 

You sounded airy and light, as if his fingerfucking had already sent your soul to heaven. “Mm… Michi,” you murmured, carding your fingers through his hair. It was a miracle that you could even say anything at all. Your legs were shaking from all the pleasure. “You better fuck me soon.”

“Are you really in a position to be making demands?” Uramichi asked. His face was flushed yet his body showed no signs of exhaustion, his fingers still pumping in and out of you at an even pace, occasionally slowly to scissor and spread inside of you.

You whimpered in response.

Trying to push in a third finger, it was too tight, Uramichi realized. As much as you tried to help him–or perhaps help yourself–by fucking yourself on his hand, you couldn’t get back that middle knuckle, even if he stacked the fingers on top of each other.

He pulled out to your protest. “What?” Pre-cum smeared against his stomach and connected him to a thin string that matched a small wet spot on his bed. “Weren’t you just begging me to fuck you?”

He grabbed at the condom on his nightstand, doing his best to open it while you kept yourself entertained. Between the scent of your desire on his fingers, its slipperiness, and watching you play with yourself, rolling on the condom was difficult, and his efforts were futile when he realized it didn’t fit. You offered to buy some since you could stop by the store on your way over, but Uramichi failed to tell you what size to get.

“We don’t need it,” you said impatiently, even going so far as to snap when Uramichi gave you a look of uncertainty. Over the phone you mentioned that you were on the pill.

Your words sent a jolt of lust down Uramichi’s spine that went straight to his cock, and he looked down to make sure that he didn’t cum prematurely.

Using one hand to guide it in, he wet it at your entrance, sliding both the pre and your slick all over. Enjoying the sounds you made, he teased you further by rubbing the head against your clit in circles until you were begging him to fuck you.

Uramichi’s prep was worth it. He slid in with minimal effort, though it was obvious that you were stretched by your body tensing. Your walls were hot and clamped down with every inch forward.

Leaning back, he said, “Your pussy looks so nice with my cock in it.”

It was the right thing to say. Suddenly you felt impossibly tight, but Uramichi tried to press against it, giving a few experimental strokes before committing to fucking you with intention.

“ Fuck ,” you said, pulling him into your chest as you looked at him with half-dazed eyes, “Michi, you feel so good.”

Focusing on the act, you both let yourself get lost in the feeling. With your legs pushed back and wrapped around him, Uramichi leaned forward to fuck you deeper, hitting a spot that made you squeal and buck up against him. You told him to keep pressing right there and begged him not to stop, calling out his name as you came on his cock. He thought he could help you ride out your orgasm, but to his embarrassment, he came shortly after. 

When he stopped moving, you looked at him, and sheepishly he admitted to cumming quickly. He was grateful that he wasn’t keeping track of the time, but now he was worried that you’d make fun of him or try to leave. Women wanted a partner that could last, didn’t they? That’s what he saw in all the porn he watched at least. He knew that his last girlfriend needed more time too.

“I’m that good, huh?” You said, admiring his chest that flushed pink and the sheen of sweat on his skin. “I can take responsibility for that,” you laughed.

You opened your arms, urging him to settle in them. Your heartbeat was deafening in his ears as his eyes grew heavy. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming about taking you on a date in that sundress when he woke up.

—

His room was darker when he woke up, and Uramichi blindly reached for you, but you weren’t there. All he could smell was your shampoo on his pillows and a mixture of your sweat and perfume on his sheets. Rolling onto his back, he checked his phone. It was now the mid-afternoon. He checked his texts, but none of them were from you. He sighed. What was he expecting?

Faintly, he heard his fridge door shut, and he sat up, hastily throwing on his boxers to investigate. Maybe, just maybe…

“Oh!” You startled, beaming as Uramichi entered the kitchen. Your smile fell as you realized that he caught you rifling through his fridge. “Sorry, I should have waited until you woke up, but I was really thirsty.” You held up your cup of water as proof. “I hope you don’t mind.” You even bowed slightly to show your remorse.

When he didn’t say anything, you looked up. “I thought you left,” was all he said.

“Without saying goodbye?” You took a gulp of water, setting it down on the counter. “No way. That’s rude.”

“Besides, I was wondering if you wanted to grab something to eat. We could order something too if you don’t feel like going out. If you don’t wanna do that, we could also make something too.”

Your rambling about food options was lost on Uramichi as relief settled in his heart, all of his worries melting away. He nodded along before grabbing your hand. “Yeah, I’m fine with whatever, but first, let’s head back to bed. There’s something I wanna do to you.”

Catching his words, you understood what he meant. An impish grin settled on your face as you asked him if he could fuck you on the kitchen counter.

Return to

the Main Masterlist

Nothing in Particular | fic cover

Life Lessons Masterlist

AO3

[lycankeyy]

boyf wake up, you fucked up big time

Casually unveils this shit from being gatekept to dms for nearly a full month for some reason. It's been referenced twice (I think) so might as well

BFs in this one-shot: fc!bf (boyf, mine), yourself (ys, @ochrearia)

Because, okay, admittedly, he'd felt it creeping up on him - the sore throat, the tiredness, the (worse than usual) inability to focus. He'd brushed all those things off as fall allergies or something, mostly for his own sanity, but partially for his partners'; Girlfriend had plans with Nene through the weekend and Pico was off being the sole breadwinner, so he didn't want to worry them. Besides, it was just a cold or something. He'd be fine.

-

Boyf might have to fight Pico for his reigning title in always getting sick at the worst possible time.

Sunday morning hit, and the best way Boyf could describe how he was feeling was "like that guy people always chose to run over in the trolley problem". Which was kind of his own fault, but still.

He'd spent the whole morning in bed, failing to fall back asleep despite how much his body seemed to want to. He partially blamed that on the fact that he was sweating buckets, and that made lying in bed kind of gross. The coughing fits that felt like his throat was being shredded didn't help, but he was doing his best to ignore those, because this was definitely still allergies.

An indeterminate amount of time passed (felt like about an hour, but his perception of time was wacky at the moment) before he realized he was really, really hungry. The idea of actually fixing himself something to eat sounded atrocious right then, but he was sure he could scrounge together some peanut butter toast or something.

He spent another ten minutes (again, maybe less, maybe more) laying there listlessly before finally finding it in him to push himself up. The world teetered a bit in front of him and he had to blink a couple times to correct it. The fact that it did correct was enough for him to assure himself that it was probably a one-time thing.

Boyf used his nightstand to leverage himself into a standing position. Again, his head spun, which was becoming an increasingly not good sign, but he was hungry, and it wasn't like not eating until someone got home would help.

So he pressed onward, managing a few steps before having to lean against the half-wall that separated his bedroom from the rest of the apartment. He tried to measure the distance between there and the kitchen in his mind by squinting really hard in that general direction, but his mind was drawing up blanks.

He shoved himself off the wall and immediately stumbled, his face feeling like it was on fire and his vision turning to static. It was here that the alarm bells finally cut through the self-righteous fog to scream at him that this was a bad idea and that he needed to sit down before he passed out.

That was his last thought before he found himself on the floor with a pretty solid guess as to how he got there.

His whole body was stupidly heavy, even if he wanted to get back up. (He genuinely could not remember the last time he vacuumed, and he suddenly cared a lot about that.) Honestly, just kind of laying there forever sounded like a decent plan at that point.

If it weren't for the fact that he'd completely forgotten a certain someone else he'd hoped to avoid worrying.

He wasn't even sure where he came from, given Boyf was currently lying in a heap on the floor, but he could come from just about anywhere if he was desperate. (Oh, God, he hoped he wasn't desperate. Fuck, man.) He heard him before he saw him, then felt his hand against his face before he cared to. He managed to lift a hand long enough to swat his counterpart away, glaring up at him through glassy eyes.

"Oh, thank..." Boyf wasn't sure if Yourself hadn't completed his thought or if he was just too out of it to hear the rest of it. Regardless, the rest of it was much more clear. "What the hell are you doing alone like this? Where are your partners?"

Boyf, extremely alert and awake and alive right now, squinted at him like it would somehow strengthen the other's telepathic magic and very eloquently answered, food.

YS blinked down at him, though neither of them were sure why he was even surprised at this point. He took a deep breath. "You're dehydrated. When was the last time you drank water?"

He couldn't tell if his memory was this fallible at the moment because of the not-illness, the fact that he'd recently passed out, or if it had genuinely been so long that he just couldn't remember. He did his best to shrug while lying completely flat on the ground.

His taller counterpart pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, okay," he muttered, before standing up from where he was kneeling. "Stay there."

Finding a bit more strength now, Boyf was able to prop himself up on his elbows as YS went to the kitchen to grab him some stuff. He stared after him for a few minutes before deciding the floor was actually way too uncomfortable to heed his command. (And also because he didn't give a shit about commands anyway.)

It was mildly pathetic to have to literally crawl back onto his bed with how his legs were continuing to not really want to work with him, but it got the job done. He also understood where YS got the idea that he was dehydrated from - his heart was absolutely fucking racing by the time he managed to situate himself back under the covers.

Alright, maybe he could be a little grateful that YS came through to make sure he didn't, like, need to be hospitalized or something. (And now that he had a clearer view of where he'd been laying, particularly of the shiny vinyl box next to it, he probably also owed Darnell some appreciation for being indirectly involved in making sure he didn't fucking die in the two seconds his partners had left him alone.)

"You're a stubborn little bastard, you know that?" YS piped up as he reentered the room, far from surprised to find that Boyf had ignored his one request so blatantly. His expression was far from irritated, though, as he walked over to set a glass of water on Boyf's nightstand and hand him a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on it. Truly a meal of kings. "I'm not leaving until you drink all of that."

Boyf opened his mouth to say something along the lines of "okay, mom", but was jarred out of it by the realization that it was even harder to coordinate himself into speaking than usual. He wasn't sure why he hadn't expected it, but it upset him so much that it distracted him from his insult completely.

YS sighed as he noticed the clear shift in Boyf's demeanor, suddenly gone from confident to somewhat small. He glanced behind him, finding his ill counterpart's laptop, and he walked over and plucked it from its charger. "Work on some music when you're done eating," he said, setting it next to Boyf before sitting on the edge of the bed himself. "It'll take your mind off it."

The rapper frowned at him, still deeply bothered by his newfound mutism but unable to argue, even if he could, that YS was wrong. In his annoyance, he took a big bite out of his PB&J, something he immediately realized was a bad idea because chewing and swallowing was probably also going to be a good bit harder if his motor skills were deteriorated. He hoped to god he didn't choke while YS was there. That would be embarrassing.

Luckily, he didn't. The two sat in silence for a while, YS making good on his threat, considering Boyf hadn't touched the glass of water yet. It was around that point that Boyf was finally willing to admit that he felt really, really awful, actually, and he was pretty thoroughly regretting not having either of his partners there to comfort him.

In his sudden craving, he located YS' shoulder next to him and promptly collapsed onto it. His other self snorted in surprised amusement. "What?"

Like it would somehow emphasize his point, he, more gently, headbutted it again. Apparently, he felt like fighting Pico on the honorary housecat award as well.

YS looked down at him, visibly trying and failing not to smile. He covered it up with a sharp inhale, adjusting his position to something more relaxed and turning his face away. "Just because you dumbasses are addicted to my hugs doesn't mean I'm going to give them out like candy. You've got to earn it."

Boyf pulled away, genuinely pouting at him. Screw dignity, he was sick and miserable and he wanted a fucking hug. YS was more confident showing his face now that his expression was a cocky grin, knowing he had him on the ropes. "Drink half of that water and tell your partners that you're sick. Then I'll consider it."

The man drove a hard bargain. One he was very lucky Boyf wanted the prize out of. Begrudgingly, he did as he was told - forced the water down and then grabbed his phone, and though YS couldn't make Boyf cough up the detail that he'd passed out from dehydration if he held him at gunpoint, he did inform them that he was maybe not feeling so great. He all but tossed his phone away from him and looked at his counterpart expectantly.

His hardass act was, of course, immediately disarmed by one of YS' arms wrapping around him. It genuinely wasn't fair. Even his half-hugs felt like being embraced by a guardian angel. "See?" He said, still keen to tease; "not so hard, is it, little man?"

Boyf leaned into the hug, all but burying himself in YS' side as the taller man squeezed harder to compensate. This, he decided, almost made all the fussing he was sure would be sent his way later worth it.

Almost.

[rukafais]

a solitary, singular thread

A piece of writing I've been kinda turning over for a while now. While I might expand on it or I might not, I like it as is, so the tag might as well have it.

SPOILERS FOR LOLTH'S WARRIOR

The endless song of the Astral Sea, the hivemind, the universe, is welcoming, overwhelming, tide and sky and space and stars spinning, spinning, spinning. You as a mote, a neuron, a bright-flickering conglomerate of thought, a nascent star rising to its constellation.

Still there is a thread that draws you back. 

Still there is a thread that stitches you into the well worn aching patterns of the material plane.

Still there is a thread that keeps you -- whole.

Still you cling to it.

Thus I am bound.

I do not abandon you...

Never that.

It has been a lifetime since you spoke those words to describe your place in the world as you saw it. You have passed to a place where in theory you should remember them only as one brief flickering note of knowledge among an endless library of it. A single book in an archive. A single star in its sky. In its rightful place, as all things are within the hivemind, but infinitesimal.

In practice, you remember only yourself. The words bind you to the shape of your soul, to the body you once were; the desires of the mind overwrote the limitations of the body and yet, and yet, your form in thought is a perfect copy of the form you have shed, have lost.

The singular form you considered lonely, once. That you considered lonely, for a long time.

You are not lonely now. Everything you yearned for in your solitude is here. You are here. A drop in the ocean, one mind among many, complete, whole, belonging.

(I remember the waves on the shore, the city so far north that the water ran cold - runs cold - in the height of summer. The city that he loves. The city that I fought for despite the odds. The cry of the seabirds, the salt water's chill, the bitter rasping touch of what they called Auril's breath. The winds that blew down from the mountains.

I remember these things still.

I remember what they mean to me -  I often complained, never fond of the cold weather.

I remember what they mean to him.

I remember that he laughed at me then...)

You are not lonely, not here - how can you be? but the thread binds you still. It knots around your nonexistent ribs, spine, throat, lungs, drawn out in the spinning-wheel depths of the heart you no longer need and yet still have. It is sewn into the very fabric of you, as if you were fabric yourself, a pattern that you did not make but in the absence of its giver recreate it yourself.

(I was not a weaver or a clothier or even particularly fond of clothes and all their tedious maintenance. I wore clothing, wore out my clothing, in a way that he often despaired of. He was, is, a great lover of them. He spends hours in front of a mirror when he can get away with it. I remember those long days, those long nights, in which I did the paperwork that so plagued him and he kept his hands busy.

He sewed, embroidered, furnished clothing for this person or that, endearing in his focus and in his strange, frustrating care.

No person of his acquaintance would come away underdressed.

It was a token of his love.)

The thread has existed for as long as you have been here, this star, this free-flying thought. A binding, a restriction, a cord to be cut. But you cannot bring yourself to, for all it weighs you down and tethers you to a place far away from this brilliant sky.

There is something

(someone)

on the other side

(that I left)

that you need.

[theweeklydiscourse]

If Alina had actually passed the tests he'd given her, how do you think Aleksander would have told her the truth? When?

This is a good question! Addressing the whole truth of his identity, past and motives would have been inevitable considering his larger aspirations for him and Alina to become immortal companions, so what strategies would he employ to ensure that the big reveal goes as smoothly as possible?

First, we need to identify what exactly he’s going to tell her. I believe the whole truth is something that he’d tell her in two parts.

1. The truth about his motives with the shadow fold as well as the imminent coup d’état.

2. The truth about his immortality and him being the Black Heretic.

Both of these truths are alike in the sense that they pertain to the essence Aleksander’s character, but they differ in urgency. Informing Alina of the coup would be the most urgent given that the pressure to destroy the shadow fold increased greatly after Alina was discovered. In order for the plan to proceed, Alina should ideally know what Aleksander’s true motives are before they move forward with an enormous feat of Grisha power.

However, telling Alina the second truth would be akin to him putting his life in her hands. As such, his approach to telling her the truth would most likely require more time and caution. I can only imagine how that conversation might go for the two of them.

So what if Alina did pass the tests?

Even if she passed his tests initially, I imagine that Aleksander would still approach the issue with a high degree of caution. Their conversation on the journey to the Little Palace was a sort of placement test that let him subtly grade her, that is why I think he would conduct more tests incrementally to track her progress and milestones until she fully passed. But, if she had passed his initial test, I believe that Aleksander would have been far bolder with his hints and taken an approach that might allow Alina to draw her own conclusions.

For example, after Alina’s introduction to the King and Queen, Aleksander tests the waters by describing the King as a child. It’s an obvious slight at the King’s frivolous and incompetent ways that would’ve been understood by Alina after seeing his childish attitude firsthand. What if, instead of gasping and appearing visibly shocked, Alina responded in an affirmative manner? Perhaps agreeing with Aleksander or making a jab of her own? This might then lead into a conversation about the King’s failure as a ruler and allude to Aleksander’s future plans while also allowing Alina to ease into the subject.

We see the beginnings of an incremental approach to ease Alina into the world of Grisha. Getting her acquainted with her new home, giving her a friendly companion (Genya), and placing her among the rest of the Little Palace Grisha for daily events such as mealtimes and training. This stage is crucial to gaining Alina’s support and allegiance due to her upbringing as a non-Grisha as well as her low self esteem. Given that Alina’s introduction to the world of Grisha was both frightening and shocking, throwing her into the deep end right away would only cause her to flail and struggle, ultimately risking the entire movement in the process. So, she needs to spend a bit of time on the edge of the water, going from dipping her toes in to wading into the shallow end.

My estimate is that if all went according to plan (meaning that Baghra never meddled) then Aleksander would obtain the stag with Alina and take a number of months or even a year or two to train and acclimate to such a powerful amplifier. During this time, he would level with her about the true purpose of the fold and what her role would be in the movement for Grisha liberation.

R/relationshipadvice : How do I (500M), tell my potential girlfriend/life partner (20F) that I’m not actually 120 and that I’m actually an immortal revolutionary wizard who forever changed the geography and politics of our country?

As for the biggest truth of all, I often wonder how long it would take Aleksander to tell Alina the full truth about who he is. The idea of telling her most likely intimidates him into playing it safe and because of that I think it might take a number of years before he would be ready. However, Alina is not an idiot and has the power to observe things. The benefit of this is that it would allow her to gather information and draw her own conclusions as she gets closer to the truth. Aleksander is an understandably guarded person, but he will still leave breadcrumbs for Alina to follow and pick up on. But if I had to say, I’d think that he might wait for Alina to ask him outright (after a time) and then either bare his souls or let Alina’s questions reveal the truth throughout a long conversation.

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Intruder, Pt. 2

While the episode is Weir-centric, it begins and ends with her and is supposed to let us know what is going on with her, it's Sheppard and McKay that we follow through most of the episode where Weir mainly looks on from the sidelines. With their late night chat suddenly interrupted by this commotion, they arrive at the scene to see Beckett examining the body of a scientist killed under unknown circumstances. Sheppard leads the way as they arrive, and they obviously hadn't walked in the door at the same time like Sheppard and McKay often do. Sheppard also hadn't allowed her to go first which is what a guy interested in a woman would do.

We see them joined by Colonel Caldwell and somewhere along the way, McKay had also joined them. Note that Sheppard seems to hand back and keep his attention on the equipment, actually fiddling with the charred wiring with his hand, which is something we also see him do later. It appears he needs something tangible to occupy his attention so as not to do what he usually does when he's in a room where McKay is working--which is to watch him work. We have never seen Sheppard do this previously and, frankly, what he's doing both times might actually be dangerous since he's not an electrical engineer and probably doesn't actually know what he's doing. But he seems to need something to focus on, something to touch with his hand. He glances at the Colonel as he walks in but does not seem to quite know where to fix his eyes on a more permanent basis. He has also placed himself the furthest away from McKay when usually he would be standing nearest. Something odd is going on.

And yet Sheppard still, still, has his body turned toward McKay. Even while reaching back to fiddle with the wires his body is oriented to McKay. He even closes his eyes as Beckett passes between himself and McKay so as not to allow this momentary barrier to exist between them. But then, as he opens his eyes, it's almost as though... he has to brace himself before being able to look at McKay as Weir draws everyone's attention to McKay with a question.

As a member of the science team this deceased man had been working under McKay and from what we are told, McKay must have chosen him for the job personally. Weir had all of the senior staff choose new members for the expedition for their own department while on Earth. In fact, McKay later describes the scientists on board as a "team of brilliant scientists," emphasizing his own role in putting this team together. So this man probably wasn't a stranger to McKay.

They gather to watch the security camera footage around McKay in quiet, no one saying anything as it plays out.

But, as they so often do, people are soon looking at McKay to give them answers even though he had seen the footage together with them for the first time, all of them bombarding him with questions:

Weir: What happened there? McKay: I don't know. It's a camera malfunction. Sheppard: Right before he was killed? Interesting coincidence. McKay: Actually, I think it makes sense. Colonel Caldwell was right, there's not enough 'juice' in those circuits to kill someone. At least not normally. Weir: What are you thinking? McKay: It's possible there was some sort of isolated power surge in this section. That would explain the lost camera, the malfunctioning door... Caldwell: So, when the door controls didn't respond, he took out the panel to bypass the circuits and received a fatal jolt? McKay: Like I said, it's possible.

While we know now that Sheppard has had trouble sleeping recently, we don't know how McKay has been faring. He seems to be acting normal but it almost seems as though he is putting too much effort into appearing neutral. He is carefully trying to sound noncommittal, he's leaving things unsaid. But what's interesting is that he hasn't shaved.

While it's only the hint of a 5 o'clock shade on his face, we have never seen him like this. Certainly it could be because they have been cooped up on a ship for over two weeks but it doesn't seem anyone else has been not shaving. Sheppard has the regular amount of stubble. So, this tells us either that McKay has been working a lot and hasn't had time for sleeping, that he's been running the midnight oil. Maybe he had been sleeping and was woken up especial for this, coming directly from bed. Or there is another reason for him to have forgone personal hygiene.

It's not as though he looks unkempt or haggard, it's a very minor lapse in grooming. But it's something we haven't seen from him previously. It makes him look a little rougher around the edges.

As McKay is showing them the security camera footage, this time Sheppard parks where he usually does, closest to McKay. He is standing close behind his chair and even places his hands on the back of the chair, and this may not even be a conscious act on his part. It's just where his hands want to be. His hands on the back of McKay's chair is an intimate gesture, it is an unconscious attempt at bridging the distance between them.

McKay actually has to nudge him back to get his hands off to be able to turn to look at him as he's talking.

Both of their tones are a little strange, just a little off. They're talking carefully and with practiced softness, as one would to a child or a skittish animal. Sheppard is mostly not looking at McKay even when McKay couldn't even see him looking, only glancing at him quickly and then again fixing his eyes elsewhere. So this is not a question of Sheppard avoiding McKay's eyes because he doesn't want him to be able to read him, it's more that he himself is unable to look at McKay. And yet Sheppard is definitely crowding McKay who is wedged between him and his work station.

McKay also seems very obviously to be avoiding looking directly at Sheppard, his eyes bounce around everywhere else but at the man standing right next to him. But given that there seems to be a problem for him to solve again, his mind is soon occupied working on it. As long as he focuses on the work, he can do this. If he's figuring out a murder mystery, he doesn't have to think about the two of them or how he's feeling about it.

Only, Caldwell seems determined to complicate this plan.

McKay suggests that they drop out of hyperspace long enough for him to figure out what is going on and Caldwell seems reluctant to do that since they are only two days away from their destination. McKay's reaction to this is curious.

McKay doesn't argue with him but we can clearly see that he is concealing his emotions. He actually puts a hand over his mouth so as not to respond to the Colonel because he's not sure what is going to come out of his mouth. He probably feels like snapping and knows full well that it has nothing to do with Caldwell. He's not even entirely sure he disagrees with him. The anguish he seems to be trying to keep concealed has very little to do with the Colonel or their current situation. Yes, he had just lost a colleague that he had hand-picked to do some important work for the expedition but it was only the final thing to happen in a long line of things he had been unable to stop from happening.

But notice how he turns his head away from Sheppard as he's trying to keep himself from saying anything, trying to keep himself from arguing his case. While we see only Sheppard's ear and a stretch of his neck from behind, it does seem like he has his face turned toward McKay as he is having this conversation with Caldwell. However, his eyes are fixed on the Colonel. So, Sheppard's body is oriented toward McKay as it always has done but he is consciously trying to keep his attention elsewhere.

It's actually Weir that has to interject on McKay's behalf because she too has learned to trust McKay "about these things," like Sheppard told Caldwell in the previous episode. Caldwell asks her to have a private word with him because as a civilian Weir seems once more unable to comprehend how this chain of command thing works for them. Sheppard is still avoiding looking at McKay as they leave and we do not get to see how they interact once the others have taken off. Again he casts his eyes down as Weir passes in front of him, between the two of them, so he's not really looking at McKay there at the end either. And while he was plastered at the back of McKay's chair, he gives her wide breadth to pass him by. And notice that although it might look like Sheppard turns to watch her go, he is not actually looking at her; his face turns right and his eyes turn left, away from her. From what we see of their interaction while the others were around, we can only imagine how awkward it must have been when they were left alone together.

So far, Sheppard's body language is the same as it has been before but both men are definitely trying not to look at the other. They are both speaking in measured tones. These two men who used to read the other's thoughts right out of their face are avoiding looking at each other. Something has definitely changed between them in the month that we never got to see.

Once they are out of earshot, Caldwell privately criticizes Weir's behaviour:

Caldwell: I know the chain of command can get a little fuzzy on Atlantis, but that's not gonna happen here. You got a problem with my orders, take it to me in private. Otherwise, keep your opinions to yourself. Weir: Are you sure that's what this is all about? Caldwell: I've got a job to do, Doctor. Weir: But not the one you wanted.

It's interesting that that is exactly what McKay was doing, he was very clearly keeping his opinions to himself. Whether he was doing this organically or he and Sheppard had actually had some kind of a discussion following his promotion, we don't know. What we can see is that McKay is putting extra effort into behaving in a professional capacity.

What Weir is referring to is Sheppard's promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. Caldwell had attended her meeting with General Landry at the SGC, and had actually been handpicked to become the next military commander of Atlantis. Weir, familiar with dealing with military types seemed to prefer the Devil she knows to a new commander she would have to forge a working relationship with, and let them know that she would prefer Sheppard keep the job. And so, Sheppard's military record becomes a topic of discussion:

Caldwell: It's our feeling that a corresponding increase in military presence would also be prudent. Weir: I agree. That's why I wanted Major Sheppard to come back with me. In fact, I brought all my senior staff back. I think it's only fair that they participate in the selection process of the new personnel in their respective departments. Landry: That's kind of what we wanted to talk to you about. In your report, you singled Major Sheppard out for a lot of credit. Weir: That's right.

There are six men on the opposite side of the table from her, all officers, all older than her. It's an obvious all-male panel and make no mistake, her gender is very prominently one of the central issues here. She is a world-class negotiator and a diplomat but the position they have put her in is not easy. The design of this meeting is to allow the military to bully the civilian authority into accepting their terms. Landry points out that their reluctance to give Sheppard the command is partially based on her own testimony:

Landry: You were also candid enough to document several occasions on which you and the Major didn't exactly see eye to eye. In particular, there was an incident involving an alien nano-virus in which Major Sheppard directly disobeyed one of your orders. Weir: He also saved a lot of lives that day. Landry: The Major's courage and ingenuity are not in question here. His ability to follow the proper chain of command is.

The issue the collected senior officers seem to have with Sheppard is the same that all of his superiors seem to have. His tendency for insubordination when he thinks that he knows better, allowing his feelings to compromise his decisions. Landry walks behind the all-male panel to emphasize that this is the official position of the military. And their position is not that they don't want Sheppard to continue in his current position but that they want to remove him from the expedition altogether:

Landry: You see, Doctor, from our point of view, Major Sheppard's independent nature poses a bit of a problem. If he could disobey you, he may see fit to do the same to the new commander of the military contingent on Atlantis. Weir: Excuse me? And when did this happen? Landry: Of course, the decision hasn't been made yet but we do have a candidate in mind. Weir: Atlantis has a military commander. Landry: You had a military commander, Colonel Sumner. When he was killed, Major Sheppard correctly assumed the position until a proper replacement could be brought in.

It seems as though they don't know that Sheppard already had disobeyed a direct order by Colonel Everett out of Weir's request which probably means that it was the Colonel's way of showing his gratitude not to put that into the official record upon his return to Earth. But Weir herself knows that he did that. He did that out of her request.

What's interesting about all of this is that are able to compare Sheppard with O'Neill. When O'Neill remarked on Sheppard's record in Rising (S01E01), Weir was quick to point out the similarity between them:

O'Neill: You know, I checked into his record. Weir: I know about the whole supposed black mark in Afghanistan. He was trying to save the lives of three servicemen. O'Neill: Disobeying a direct order in the process.Weir: I have read your own file, General. Please. O'Neill: Right.

O'Neill had a notoriously independent nature and this was in fact the reason he had been chosen for the flagship team. Because having to deal with alien worlds and unfathomable cultural differences, the ability to think on one's feet and make calls regular commanders wouldn't make, to see things a little different, is actually a benefit. It's a requisite. The first time they sent him in the gate, it was because they knew he would have the ability and the fortitude to even kills his own whole-ass team if the security of the Earth required it. The calls we have seen Sheppard make so far pale in comparison to some of the calls O'Neill has made over the years. And all of this was rewarded (or possibly from his point of view, punished) by promoting him into a Brigadier General.

But, and let's put the question of whether O'Neill was bicurious or not aside, he was always able to play by the rules where it really mattered. He knew what rules could be bent, which rules could be broken, and which ones needed to be upheld for the theatre of it all. He may have been in love but he never crossed that line, not in a way that left a record. His independent nature didn't embarrass the military. If anything, he was good PR for them, someone that they could lift up as an example of the All-American Action Hero, a patriotic man fulfilling his duty to the institution even when his calls went against superior officers that may have been failing in their own duties. They actually made him into an action hero for a television show about a fictional team exploring alien worlds (Wormhole X-Treme) where he himself served as the USAF consultant.

But the point is, it's not Sheppard's independent nature that is the problem for this panel of men. That's actually a prerequisite for the job. It's that they don't gotta ask to know what he is. They don't have to wait for him to tell them why he sees things a little different. His independent nature is of the kind that would be bad publicity for the military. If this programme was ever to become a matter of public record, if it was ever revealed to the public, they couldn't risk having anyone 'light in the combat boots' in charge of it. Having him there in the capacity of a senior officer was already a liability but they had been willing to look the other way because his genetics made him uniquely necessary for the expedition the first time, when they didn't know they would ever be able to re-establish contact with Earth again. Having him there in the capacity of commander in this new situation was unacceptable. This is what they're talking about. This is what their problem is. And given that Weir knows both O'Neill's record and seems to know that Sheppard is not straight, she also knows this is what their problem is.

Caldwell: Doctor, you can't be suggesting that a mission of this importance be trusted to a Major, and one with a questionable record at that. Weir: Major Sheppard's record before he joined my team doesn't concern me. All I can tell you is that if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be sitting here right now. And as for his rank, if that's not good enough for you, you're just gonna have to promote him. Landry: Doctor... Weir: I shouldn't have to remind you gentlemen that I continue to have the support of the President and our foreign allies. You don't wanna fight me on this one.

Weir's reference to their foreign allies is especially telling in this regard. She could have used the in-universe designation IOA, and in fact, probably should have just to remind the audience that such a thing exists in the franchise, but instead they chose to go with foreign allies. The choice of terminology is not irrelevant here. Many of the Western allies of the US had opened service for homosexual and bisexual servicemen in 1992 and others yet by 2000. Among its most prominent allies, the US was definitely becoming isolated when it came to its policy when this episode aired. And it was well-known, too, that when it came to international coalitions, non-straight members of the US military found their "foreign allies" to be much more accepting than their own ranks.*

As she leaves, Weir tells them that they don't want to fight her on this one. If it was just a question of one damn Major, there wouldn't even be anything to fight about. The military has final say on its ranks and if they think someone is unsuitable for service, they are gone. There's nothing to fight about. This is purely a military matter and she should have absolutely no say in this.

But the way she says it, she could easily be able to turn this into a much bigger incident, and they are fully aware of this. If they wanted to fight her on this, she could give them a fight. There's a definite subtext to this discourse. There are things said between the lines, there are things said in the looks exchanged by the General and the Colonel. This is precisely how the policy forced them to have these discussions, skirting around the issue but never actually saying the words because never saying the words out loud was the whole policy. There's a reason beyond simple friendship that Weir is willing to stake her own career on getting Sheppard this post. And that reason is not because she has some school girl crush on the man as by this time, she still thinks she's happily in a relationship with a man that she wants to accompany her to Pegasus. What Weir is doing is being an ally.

Continued in Pt. 3

-* From a reprint of an opinion piece written in 2011 (My Gay Life in the Military: How 'Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell' Affects Me):

Make no mistake about it: people have killed themselves because of this policy. One story I often share about DADT is that of a soldier whose partner died from a roadside bomb while deployed. Without the ability to talk through his grief with another American soldier, he turned to a few Australian service members for emotional support. No soldier who fights for our freedoms deserves that type of abandonment.

[terrahlee-cup]

The version that isn’t a bunch of screenshots in a trench coat 💜 @mousermayhem

"What are you doing?" Donnie had entered the infirmary to the sound of breaking glass. Slash was frozen, stood in front of what had probably been an empty vial. A glance around the room told him that nothing else had been moved. Meanwhile Slash looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Hold on, I'll get a broom. Stay there."

Donnie was quick to grab a broom and dustpan from a storage closet. Instead of listening, Slash had crouched down and started picking up pieces of glass. "I'm- I can clean it. I can fix it, it's fine." Donnie frowned. Not Raph, right.

Careful to avoid the glass, Donnie knelt down and stopped the other's hand. "Hey, it's just a vial, it's not a big deal. Let me use the broom so you don't hurt yourself, uh," he watched as drop of blood hit the floor, "any worse at least." He could feel the larger turtle's hand trembling, but Slash did eventually stand up. Did he still look several shades paler than normal? Yes. Was it an improvement? Also yes.

It didn't take long to sweep up the pieces of glass. There wasn't much of it in the first place. Still… Slash seemed terrified of how Donnie would respond. It was so- his twin knew mistakes like this were easy to fix. "I'm not mad you, you know, it was probably just an extra anyway. What were you trying to do?"

Slash hesitated, tail curled tightly enough around his leg that it would probably bruise. "I- I was curious… about the equipment." Donnie blinked. Most of the equipment in the room would be more useful as a weapon if it was just thrown. Unless Raph's clone had suddenly taken an interest in chemistry, which he doubted.

"I can explain it then, let me just throw the glass away." Hazard disposed of, Donnie tried to decide where he should start. "Was there something specific you wanted to look at?" Slash shook his head. That wasn't much to work with… he'd just start with the one that was easiest to explain.

As Donnie described how each of the machines worked, Slash appeared to slowly relax. Eventually he started asking questions; Donnie definitely caught the other turtle's tail wagging at a few points. He might have talked more about those topics. Just a little.

They'd made quite a bit of progress through the different pieces of equipment when Leo interrupted them for lunch. He laughed when he got two matching glares for his troubles, "I know you're in the middle of something, but you both need to eat lunch at some point. Can you pause the science for ten minutes maybe?" Donnie groaned, but he did let Leo drag him away.

He made quick work of his lunch, which Mikey found incredibly amusing, and hurried back to the infirmary as soon as their dad returned with the plates. He just waved it off when his dad yelled after him, "Don't overwhelm him Donatello!"

Slash actually perking up when he saw Donnie reenter the room was more exciting than he'd expected. "I can keep going from where I left off?"

"Fine with me." Slash hovered nearby while Donnie launched back into detailing how everything worked. A few minutes in, Donnie realized that this was the best opportunity he'd had to get some answers. He'd have to be careful, but maybe he could manage a few without Slash getting defensive?

"Hey, since we're looking at the medical equipment anyway, can I check a couple things?" Slash tilted his head,

"Like what exactly?"

"Just your weight and a blood sample. You don't have to but-"

"Sure, which one do you want first?" Donnie paused, stunned. That went over… well? That was new.

"Um, since you're already standing we can do weight first." Slash trailed after him, stepping onto the scale before Donnie even said anything. He ended up having to look at the number twice since he'd forgotten to grab a sticky note. "Okay got that… you should sit down while I draw blood. Mikey almost passed out once because he wanted me to hurry up and wouldn't sit like I'd told him to." Donnie just barely caught the other turtle's soft huff of laughter.

"That was an interesting choice." Donnie grinned as he grabbed the supplies,

"Yeah, he has never lived it down. He wanted to play a new game we'd found."

"Not happy when he woke up later?" Slash held out his arm without any prompting.

"Thanks. He was grumpy for the rest of the day because Raph and Leo had gotten to it first. He hates when he doesn't get to play them first." Donnie stuck a label on the sample and set it aside, "Anyway, that's all done."

"Is that it, or…"

"Well, it's not medical, but I did want to ask what happened the night you came here. What even triggered the fight?"

"Long story short they were being twats. Didn't like me hanging back when we fought you all. I guess they decided I wasn't helpful enough to be kept around."

"They were that mad about you not just charging in."

"You've fought them, you know they aren't exactly smart. Just because Blue has Leo's memories doesn't mean he's good at using the information."

"I hate that I have no argument against that… wait- you all have names? Nicknames?" Slash scoffed and rolled his eyes,

"No, I'm the only one who does that. The other three have never seemed to give a shit."

"What are the other two?" Slash's face flushed,

"… Violet and Sunny."

"Oh boy, Mikey will be ecstatic about those. He's been losing his mind over how to pester them more easily." Donnie jumped at the responding low growl and flash of teeth.

"Don't. Use those names."

"Oh, is there… some reason why?"

"They don't know I call them that." Well now he was even more confused. It wasn't information they really needed, though, so backing away from the touchy topic it was. Something more positive… right.

"Do you want me to remove those things on your neck and wrists? They can't be comfortable." He'd already confirmed that the metal pieces weren't sending any kind of signal. So, they weren't too concerned about their own safety and messing with Dunn's tech wasn't Donnie's idea of a good time. He still figured he should at least offer.

Instead of enthusiasm the offer was met with reluctance. Slash scratched at the scales surrounding the collar while he spoke, "That wouldn't be the best idea. If anyone other than Dunn tries to remove it it's set to explode. Dying isn't something I feel like risking at the moment."

"Wh- so he'd rather throw the four of you away than let you get those things off? Is he insane?"

"Would it really surprise you if he was? Really? He can always create more clones anyway. We're not exactly precious to him. Hell, the tracker in mine is broken and Dunn hasn't bothered replacing it. That should say plenty."

"Wait, does he have a remote for it? If he set it off in here…"

"It blows up if it's removed. If he had a remote I guarantee the bastard would have told us." Donnie groaned,

"I guess I'm just going to have to trust that."

"Hm."

"Okay, I guess that's all I have for now… I'll let you do your thing. Maybe rest your leg for a bit if you want to move around more." Slash nodded, so Donnie grabbed the sticky note and blood sample and headed back towards the main room. He needed to run a test and talk with his family.

[yoiku]

YES! Ask box assault! Okay I have a couple of comic planning questions first because I love learning of an artist's creative process! :D How do you go about planning a chapter? Do you outline the flow on paper or do you thumbnail, do you draw right away...? Do you ever happen to deviate from your plan? Like had an idea but as you started illustrating you changed something - a line or interaction?

oh boy... it's mostly some level of controlled chaos, all of it? My script is a weird mix of storytelling/vague descriptions of scenes and moods and just random notes. Parts of it are written as if i was actually trying to write a story, parts are written in a way that makes it feels like like i'm reading in stop motion; this scene looks like this/these are the expressions involved/ sometimes notes about what kind of shots would fit the scene. So it might switch from very detailed descriptions into a crude outline of things within the same chapter. no rules to be seen. whatever way i feel like the writing gets going will do :'D I've noticed that I tend to take most care into describing expressions, that makes it the easiest to remember what I was visualising while writing. But i tend to focus more on the characters interacting with each other than them interacting with the environment or vice versa? I don't really plan chapters ahead. I write whatever scenes I have in mind and they vary in lenght a lot, so while i'm storyboarding I think of spots where it feels the best to "cut" to create chapters. I think a big factor to this is the fact that this particular comic/story doesn't have a definitive ending. I have ideas of where it could end and a few different options for such, but my general idea is to just draw a collection of scenes of these people interacting and trying to use it to open the package of feels I want shown in there. I guess it'll "end" when I can no longer think any scenes I'd like to draw with them? I don't really think much of what happens between the scenes, time just passes and I have no interest to try and fill gaps just because "there should be something", i dunno if that makes sense? My writing for it isn't entirely linear either, i have written scenes that are WAY later in the story and they're just there waiting for a right moment to be placed in. I feel like i do fairly often deviate from my initial plans a little bit, but rarely in any major way, at least so far.

When i'm storyboarding i just read the script over and over again and usually think of how the page layout would be, then just sketch panel by panel and see what feels best and is within my skills to do. (i use A5 blank notebooks for this) I scan my storyboards and some pages stay very true to storyboard, most change a little bit, sometimes the entire page gets re-arranged or changed in some major way. a few pages have been just completely dropped too due to feeling really pointless or just too similar to a previous one. I still spend way too much effort in the storyboarding thumbnails >_>; they have no need to be as detailed as they usually are but i guess I can't escape my nature with all that, lol.

pictured: the first storyboard notebook in all its glory

[peachymilkandcream]

Ready or Not|Part 9|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: So the next chapter will be the last in this series, I'm not going to draw it out too much as much as I like these two. That doesn't mean they're going away however. All of these are pre-written weeks in advance but by the time this goes up who knows we might have another Levi and Evelyn series chosen to start next. Hope you enjoy and comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, graphic depictions of violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

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Levi wasn't a complete animal, he'd give Evelyn a chance to see reason and agree to come back with him. Most likely it was that bitch of a physician gaslighting her into believing there was a better life out there, that she needed to be rid of him to be happy. His wife had always been incredibly naïve, if she came along quietly he wouldn't punish her as severely.

A firm knock on the apartment door announced his return into her life, any minute now he'd hear the door unlock and she'd run into his arms with his son, tearfully apologizing for how cruel she's treated him.

A minute passes and this doesn't happen, adding to his annoyance.

"Evelyn it's me, don't do anything stupid and open the damn door." His fist pounds on the wood.

Again there is nothing.

"Look, I know you're scared, but it'll be fine. I'm not mad, just disappointed. After all this time, all we've shared, I thought you got over your little temper tantrums. You know there's no escaping me so stop making it harder on yourself and just open the door."

With more time passing he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself enough to think rationally.

"Fuck it."

He kicks the door open, splintering the wood. Stepping inside he surveys the cramped living space in search of his child and wife.

Clean but empty was the best way to describe it. Evelyn had come here with no much more than the clothes on her back and the meagre change she stole from him, of course they didn't have much.

Levi couldn't help but smirk, he bet she missed his extravagant lifestyle. There was something about having everything handed to you on a silver platter versus crawling up the corporate ladder to make enough to survive. Poor girl, he was saving her at this point.

As he explored, he captured glimpses of what her life had been void of him. A life of a working mother trying to make ends meet, all of her bills on the coffee table printed with long overdue dates on them. She needed him more than she thought, someone to take this mental tole of responsibility from her, reducing her to a blissful life of children and carefree days.

The bodies found in various states of disposal made him stop, she had always claimed she would never stoop to his level and kill those who came in her way. However it seemed like her own self-righteousness had come to stab her in the ass, she was just like him, cutting down victims to get ahead in life. Never had he been more proud.

Her bedroom was where he spent the most time, knowing she had slept in that bed, undressed here, made his heart race and blood rush to his dick.

The bed looked barely slept in, indicating nights where worried kept rest at bay. With him she always slept soundly after being filled with his cum.

He bent to pick up a pair of panties in a dirty clothes hamper, taking in the intoxicating sent before tucking them into his coat pocket. Clearly she wasn't here, but she hadn't fled, knowing he had come for her. But if her schedule followed that of a normal work day she would be home in a few hours, he could go out and find a nice spot to relax and plot their reunion before returning and pouncing on her happy life.

With that thought tugging his lips into a smile, Levi exited the apartment, not bothering with the door, if her things were stolen it was her own stupid fault for betraying him in the first place.

"It seems like this game is over my dear."

=============================================

The sun beat down on Evelyn and Furlan while she was on the hunt for a job. All of her employers had mysteriously been disappearing after they fired her, and so her list of job opportunities was growing thinner and thinner by day. Anywhere she could she'd beg for a job, the fear of finding some way to pay rent looming behind her.

She caught herself wishing Levi back into her life, wanting that life of stability. But as soon as she thought it she shook it away again, after all this, how could she even allow her brain to think of that madman? She was betraying everything she had done until now. No, she'd find a way to make it work.

As she walked through the crowded streets Furlan tugged on her hand. "Papa-"

Evelyn groaned softly. "No sweetie, Papa's gone away now, I know you miss him, just come along darling."

However he still pulled, begging for his father. Evelyn still hadn't gotten used to this, the constant reminder that her child longed for the man that abused her cut her deeply. She didn't know how to break it, she just wanted him to be happy without Levi.

Finally fed up with being told to hush, Furlan slipped out of Evelyn's hand, running into the crowd while she was talking about a possible job position.

"Furlan? Get back here right now- Furlan-!" Her heart jumped, panic setting in as she chased after him.

===============================================

Levi felt the small form hug his leg, slightly startled, he looked down to shoo off whatever child had mistaken him for his parent. Only to be met with his own son clinging to him like he had missed him dearly.

He ruffled his hair before kneeling to his level and pulling the boy into his arms. "There you are, I've been looking all over for you."

"Papa play hide seek?" He asked innocently, as if all of this heartache was a simple children's game.

"Yes son, and it seems I won. But I'm still looking for Mama, do you know where she is?"

==============================================

Evelyn chased Furlan until she saw him being held by a man bent over, unable to see his face. "I'm so sorry he got away from me-"

Her eyes meet his and her entire world went numb. Terror filling every inch of her body as she stares into those eyes, those cold eyes.

"Levi-"

"Seems like we found her Furlan, I guess that makes me the winner." He smiles at them both. "Now my dear. Are you ready to go home?"

[vonuberwald]

Happy DADWC! Can I get " …after a small rejection." for Fenders or Fenhanders? :D

Hawke and Fenris glanced at each other again as Anders sighed for the hundredth time where he was lying on the small chaise at the foot of Hawke's bed. He'd walked in earlier, morose expression on his face, kicked his boots off and slumped there after a mumbled greeting to the both of the. Fenris and Hawke had been sitting on the bed, waiting for him to return from the clinic where he'd been shut in the small storage room that also passed for his office in there. According to a harried helper, he'd been in there for some time sulking after what she only described as an Incident.

When pressed for more information, she'd only sighed and said, exasperated, 'You'd best just ask him yerself, milords, he's in a right one and no doubt.' Muttering about scratches and big babies, she'd rushed off to help a small family that had just come in, leaving the others bewildered. They'd tried to knock on the door where the mage had sequestered himself, only to be told in a muffled voice through the rough wood that he was 'fine' and would see them later.

Satisfied that Anders was at least uninjured, and as Hawke judged it best for them to talk in the privacy of the estate anyway, they'd left and in the present, they were now left to delicately inquire of the man himself.

Hawke met Fenris' gaze. Fenris stared back. Hawke inclined his head towards Anders. Fenris stared back. Hawke nodded his head a little more forcefully. Fenris rolled his eyes. Hawke sighed and cleared his throat.

'So, uh, we came by earlier. If you remember,' he began.

'Mm,' said Anders.

'Liezel, I think it was, told us you were, um,' Don't say 'sulking', Garrett. 'a little... upset?'

'Mmfdfd,' Anders mumbled.

'Eh?'

Anders huffed and sat up, his shoulders hunched up around his ears. 'Was nothing,' he muttered quietly. And-

'Mage, I swear to all that you hold dear, if you sigh one more time,' Fenris interjected snappily. 'Just tell us what happened and who we need to kill already.'

Right then, Hawke thought, that works too.

Anders made a face, but came over and sat on the edge of the bed closest to the elf. Hawke couldn't help but notice that he was holding his left hand gingerly, covering the back as he was injured there. Frowning, Hawke reached for it, only for the other to draw back, not quite flinching before thinking better of it. As Hawke took his hand, he noticed that for some reason a flush had risen on Anders' face and he suddenly seemed... embarrassed? Looking down at the hand in his, he saw three lines, reddened as if they'd been lightly bleeding some time ago, but nothing more. Certainly nothing of any real concern. Hawke was surprised the mage hadn't just healed it himself, unless he was missing something?

Beside him, Fenris snorted with amusement, clearly having come to some sort of conclusion before him. 'Are you serious?'

Anders bristled and took his hand back and with a brief burst of magic, the scratches were gone.

'Look, he's never done that before, alright?' He said. Hawke was lost and turned to Fenris.

''He'?

The elf rolled his eyes. 'There's a stray cat around the clinic he's been feeding for weeks now. The cat scratched him, so he's sulking.'

Hawke turned to look at Anders. His expression might have been a little incredulous as Anders blushed harder and looked away. Hawke felt that familiar love and fondness bubble up in his chest as he scooted closer to his lover and took him in his arms.

'Come here, you,' he said, burying his face in cornsilk hair. Anders made a soft noise and relaxed against him. 'The cat'll come around again and then you can adopt it and keep it here if you like,' he continued, leaning around and kissing him on the cheek. 'As many as you like.'

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fenris make a face, but he too came in closer, reaching across and taking Anders' hand in his, and brought it to his lips to kiss the spot where the wounds had been.

'But you're cleaning up after them,' he added with a smirk.

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Thanks so much!

@dadrunkwriting