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juicycoutureheaux · 8 months ago

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Hey yall! It’s been a minute since I posted on Tumblr! I just want to let you know my series: When it’s over is alive and well on Ao3. I stopped posting chapter updates on here because I felt like I was clogging up the tags.

This prompt was inspired by an AI chat prompt weirdly enough. (So if you’re reading this and you made the chat please message me so I can tag u bb!)

Anyway here’s a product of me being sleep deprived and literally just being mushy in general. I seriously wrote this last night before I went to bed and it hasn’t been edited. I may go back and edit, I just figured releasing this fic into the wild wasn’t the worst thing I could do.

This is a fluffy kind of OOC fic for Chris Redfield. I hope y’all enjoy

“Late night feeling”

A Chris Redfield x reader fic

Tags: fluff, migraines mentions of death, intimate but platonic relationships, younger woman X older man dynamic

You were resting after a rough deployment. You had made it back to the BSAA barracks and returned to your small room that had just enough space for your twin size bed, a desk and some shelving.

You had made the space work to the best of your advantage; free housing meant you had to get creative but you managed to make your small room as welcoming as possible.

The other soldiers were used to the barebones when it came to accommodations, and usually you didn’t mind when you were out on deployment, but when you were stateside you made sure to have all the comforts you could fit in the tiny room.

Pretty soon, you were popular in your unit for having just about anything. Did somebody have a headache from the dry air? You had a humidifier. Somebody needed some extra toiletries but didn't want to leave the building? You always had spare supplies. Cold medicine? You had it.

Pretty soon you were known as “mom” despite being on the younger side. It made you proud, because your position was technically as a medic, and it meant more to you that you could care for your teams stateside as well.

You were studying the popcorn ceiling in the small room for the 50th time, trying to get yourself to get to sleep when you heard a knock on your door.

You opened it thinking it was another soldier needing something small, but were shocked to instead see Chris Redfield, Captain of multiple elite task forces and founder of the BSAA.

You didn’t know whether to salute or curtsy, you were so close to falling asleep and were delirious

He smiled at your obvious discomfort. “I heard from the guys earlier you were the one to see if I needed anything.”

You looked at him wide eyed, still shocked that he came to your room late at night. He must really need something bad.

“Y-yeah, I’m sort of the barracks *mom* of sorts.” You giggled nervously. “What can I get you?”

Chris sighed. “Do you have anything for migraines?”

You looked at Chris, thoughtfully.

“I have a couple of solutions, how long have you had symptoms?”

Chris looks at you, you can tell what he’s going to tell you he’s embarrassed about. “…4 hours.”

You looked at him in horror. You knew Redfield was hardcore, but you had some migraines yourself before, if he was seeking your help, it must have been pretty intense.

Without thinking, you mentally switched into caretaker mode.

You quickly pulled the covers on your bed, and pulled out a foam wedge you had underneath your bed that you used to get comfortable for reading or watching tv.

Chris couldn’t help but grimace through his pain.

“Are you used to having late night visitors Y/L/N?” He looked at the foam wedge. “What the hell is that for?”

You snapped your head back at him. “What are you insinuating?” Genuinely curious, did he think you were going to treat his migraines by fucking him?

Chris grimaced again. “I hear you younger girls are into some wild things these days, but I didn’t expect it from you.” He put his hands up defensively. “More power to you though.”

You laughed from your belly. “Captain with all due respect, I think you’re seriously confused on what this is for.” You placed the wedge close to the foot of the bed. “Plus, if that’s how you think we’re gonna fix your migraine, you’re seriously confused on what my job here is.” You smiled at him.

You had only worked with Chris a couple of times. He wasn’t a stranger to you by any means, but you definitely weren’t friends either.

He was your superior and you respected him. The first time the two of you had met, you were a new recruit trying to make it onto the field.

You had passed every cognitive test the BSAA had to offer, but your physical skills were shit to say the least. You were athletic, you were great when it came to stamina, but when it came to hand to hand combat and firearms, you hesitated.

You remember the disappointed look your supervisor gave you when review time came. You were extremely gifted when it came to observations and patching men up, but you were a liability on the field.

“Get used to seeing the inside of the clinic, sweetheart.” You remembered him saying to you.

You remember going to the gun range, it was late in the afternoon and you thought no one was there. You were crying while missing the target completely. You knew you looked insane, but damn you felt so good.

“Why the hell can’t I just do this one simple thing?” You remember saying out loud to yourself. “The stupid boys back home could do this shit, but I doubt they could suture up flesh, and I can’t deploy because of this one thing!” You said louder emptying the clip into the target.

You pressed the button that brought the target to you. You looked at it helplessly; the bullets holes were all over the place. You crumpled the paper furiously into your hands.

“That's one way to neutralize a target,” you heard a warm baritone behind you say.

You turned around to see Chris Redfield with his own gear, ready to begin his own practice.

You saluted him. “Captain Redfield, Sir.”

He saluted you back. “At ease soldier, you don’t have to be so formal, no one else is here.”

“Y-yes sir.”

He walked closer to you, clearly in his element.

“I heard news on your performance review, Y/L/N. That’s brutal.” He said, trying to sound comforting.

Your lip quivered, you were angry and disappointed in yourself. You wanted to angry-cry, but not in front of one of the founders of the BSAA. He probably already thought you were weak, crying would just exacerbate the issue.

“It was.” You said looking down.

He looked at you sympathetically, and put his arm on your shoulder. “You have an incredible brain though.” He said, trying to lighten the mood. “We were really pulling for you this time, we need more personalities like you on the field.”

You looked up at him. “Really?”

Chris smiled at you. “I definitely don’t picture you in spec ops anytime soon, but we definitely could use you in damage control.”

You returned his smile.

“But you also understand why we can’t send you out there unprepared, you could be ambushed anytime.”

“I understand.” A heavy tear fell from your left eye and you immediately wiped it away, in fears of Chris noticing.

He looked at you sympathetically, “It’s normal, not being able to just want to shoot a living thing.”

“But why is it so easy for everyone else? I just can’t do it!” You said, frustrated.

“I think it’s because you’re overthinking it.” He shifts on his feet. “Think of it this way, if someone was going to hurt someone you cared about, even slightly, wouldn’t you not hesitate to take them down?”

You honestly had never thought about it before. You really were thinking of BOWS like victims, but if it were between you and your fellow soldiers getting out alive you wouldn’t hesitate.

Chris saw the gears in your brain working. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You think of them like they’re normal people, and they definitely may have been at one time.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “But you can’t think of them like that, it’ll get you killed, rookie.”

“Yessir,”’

“You know,” he said, picking up his duffle bag with his arsenal of personal weapons. “I actually have free time this evening, can I show you a couple of things?”

You looked up at him, shocked he would even want to spend one of his rare free moments with a dumbass like you.

“Are you sure? I know you’re always busy, are you sure you want to spend it mentoring my ass?”

“I don’t have anything else better to do, plus I see potential in you, rookie.” He motioned for you to follow him to the lane you were at before he came in.

He positioned himself behind you to perfect your form, gently touching your biceps and arms. He had a strong, but gentle grip on you. You tried not to turn into a teenage girl at his touch, but you seriously hadn’t got any action in a long time.

Chris, remained professional as always; if he noticed that you were crushing on him in the moment he didn’t acknowledge it, he just focused on the task at hand.

The afternoon turned into late in the evening, but you were finally comfortable with shooting your gun.

“Look at you, that was maybe 3 hours of proper training?” Chris looked at your work. “Looks like you’ll be out in the field in no time.”

Chris’ kindness stayed with you, and you were able to get into a lower ranking team, but a team nonetheless. You were finally able to help on the ground.

Now, Chris was looking to you for help and you couldn’t disappoint him.

“I’m going to have you sit down on my bed, okay? I promise I’m not gonna try anything funny with you okay?” You joked with him. Trying to lighten the mood.

“Honestly Y/L/N, I’m in so much pain, I’m willing to try anything.” He said sitting down.

“Good.”

You instructed him to lay down, putting the wedge underneath his calves, elevating his feet. You then grabbed a thick towel from one of your drawers and rolled it up. You gently placed the towel under his neck and made sure to keep his head supported with a pillow.

Chris grunted.

You looked down at him worried. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he breathed out. “This is the best I’ve felt in a while.

“Good!” You chirped. “Where’s your pain radiating from?” You asked, getting up to turn on the humidifier. You knew from your own experience warm steam always helped, especially since it was December and seemed to worsen migraines.

“It feels like it’s behind my eyes, but it really does feel like it’s all over.”

“Is that normal for your migraines?” You asked putting hand sanitizer on. You had an idea of what you were going to do, but you wanted to make sure.

“Recently, yeah. I sustained a pretty bad neck and head Injury a couple years ago and they worsened from there.” He said, closing his eyes. His voice lowered like he was starting to get some relief.

“Are you okay with me touching you, Captain?” You said hesitantly.

“Of course, Doc.”

You smiled. “Not a doctor, but I think I can help.”

You began massaging the base of his neck, gently pulling his head to realign his spine. You were going at it for a couple of minutes before you heard him groan.

You stopped for a moment. “Still okay?”

“Better than okay. Can you keep going?” He asked sheepishly.

You were thankful he had his eyes closed, because his tone made you blush.

You began to let your hands move to his temples massaging the tense muscles in his face.

“You really carry a lot of stress,” you said trying to make his facial muscles relax manually.

“I guess 20 years of fighting monsters will do that to you.” He said bluntly.

“I’m sorry Captain-“ you stammered.

“Y/N drop the captain shit, it’s Chris. Please call me Chris when we’re alone.” It almost sounded like a plea.

“Yessir.”

He smiled, lightening the mood again. “I bet they ate you alive in boot camp.”

You smiled. “They did, but I survived.” You giggled.

You began to work your fingers over his sinuses, being sure to gently, but firmly relieve the tension in his face. Your fingers gently caressed a couple of mostly healed scars over his handsome face.

“I heard you got to see some action in the desert, Y/L/N.”

You sighed. It was a sensitive topic for you right now, but you didn’t want to offend Chris. “Yeah, I had to shoot my first aggressor.”

“You sound upset.”

“It was just,” You sighed heavily, trying to push the image of the infected soldier from your memory.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Chris said, opening your eyes to meet your gaze. Before that moment you hadn’t realized how intimate this interaction was with him. His head was in your lap on a pillow, supported by your crossed legs.

“I knew him.” You said quietly.

“I heard he was one of our guys,” Chris said, his tone tinged with a slight sadness.

“He always was so shy and he was so into his routine it was funny. The other members would always clown on him.” You were reminiscing about your comrade.

“I always keep snacks in my room, and one day he broke his routine to see if I had anything. I was so happy that he asked me for something, that I kept buying the same snack so he would keep coming to me, I just wanted him to feel like I had his back.” You started to sniffle, feeling a burning sensation in your sinuses.

“I don’t know what happened he came back from

recon fine, I had just patched him up; then he turned.” You couldn’t help but tremble, Chris felt this and sat up.

You were slightly surprised by his sudden actions, he turned to face you.

He held your shoulders. “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to let this destroy your life Y/N. Remember what I said, it was either you or him.”

“But why did it have to be him?” You let your emotions go. You began to cry, you were wiping your own tears when Chris wrapped his arms around you. It immediately took you off guard.

He just held you, the warmth of his body radiating onto yours, you no longer felt so cold and lonely. He slowly let go of the embrace.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Don’t apologize, that’s a lot to have on your heart.” Chris looked at you more seriously this time. “Have they done your mental evaluation yet? You guys didn’t get back that long ago.”

You let out a sigh. “Honestly, after all that work to get me in this unit, I think I’m about to fail and be released because of a psych evaluation.”

Chris looked at you sympathetically.

“I guess it wasn’t meant to be, I really am just not cut out for this am I?” You pulled your knees to your chest.

He placed a warm hand on your leg.

“You’re doing just fine, the first kill is always the worst, but it doesn’t get easier. You just get tougher.”

You instinctively put your hand over his and squeezed. “I can’t imagine what you’ve seen, what keeps you going?”

Chris rubbed his hand over his face, his migraine had disappeared finally. “I wanted to stop getting close to others, I wanted to shut down, stop caring about people.”

You rubbed his arm and felt him shiver.

“But, that wasn’t who I am. I’d never stop caring, it was the reason I joined the Air Force and the RPD. It just led me…here.” He trailed off.

“We can’t control what happens to us, is what you’re saying, right Chris?”

He smiled. “Exactly. We can control how it affects us. You’re a sweet girl Y/N, I couldn’t stand to watch this line of work harden you.”

You blushed at the sweet girl comment.

“Well I guess then you’ll be happy that I’m thinking of going to TerraSave.” You said, nervous of how he was going to react.

Instead of looking at you with disgust like you had anticipated, he was excited.

“TerraSave? Really? I’m close with a major player over there, maybe I can tell her you’re interested.”

Your heart sank at the mention of a woman he was close with, you knew you never had a chance with him, but you liked to indulge in the healthy fantasy every once in a while.

“That would be great.” You said sheepishly.

“She’s my sister in case you’re wondering.” He winked at you.

You were embarrassed that your face gave it away that you were jealous.

He then boldly lifted your chin with his hand. “If you end up working for TerraSave, there won’t be any rules against taking you out on a date either.”

“Chris, really?” You laughed. You were in shock.

“I like a woman who doesn’t know when to stop,” he winked at you.

“You’re disgusting.” You playfully hit his shoulder.

He feigned defensiveness. “Hey, I was talking about not giving up on reaching a goal, I don’t know where your mind went to.”

You felt your self melt, he was so dreamy, exactly like you imagined. “I never thought I’d see this side of you, Chris. It’s nice.”

He cupped your face with his hand and you instinctively leaned into his palm.

“It helps when I’m with someone who’s able to bring it out of me” he said, stroking your face with his thumb.

You felt equally relaxed with him too, so relaxed that you let out a yawn.

Chris only chuckled. “I guess it is late, huh?” He said gently pulling his hand away.

You whined at the sensation.

“Don’t get bratty on me now,” he laughed.

You put your head into your hands. “How’s your head?”

“Much better,” he sat up straighter. “Crazy what a few moments of relaxing can do.”

You smiled at him, “Feel free to come to my room anytime.”

#chris redfield #resident evil fanfiction #chris redfield x reader #resident evil #fanfiction #resident evil fluff #ooc

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debaroohoo · 2 years ago

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So I'm buying a house. Like. A whole dang house. As someone who's pretty terrible at being an adult, this process is terrifying. I keep going back and forth between being excited and wondering what the hell I think I'm doing. In an effort (probably in vain) to keep my brain focused on the latter, I'm making a list. All pros, no cons since I don't need that in my life right now.

Hopefully no more very brief power blips at the start of minor storms that like to happen when I'm in the middle of playing a video game. This actually happened earlier and what prompted me to start typing this up as I waited for my internet connection to come back.

No more sharing a wall with a guy who likes to crank up his music for a couple hours each night. Headphones are useless, my brain knows it's there, so it seeks out the annoyance against my wishes.

No more sharing a…floor? with people who like to yell at their barking dog and crying child to shut up.

I'll finally have a bathroom (2 bathrooms!) that hasn't been used by strangers. Removing the sliding shower door and cleaning the questionable crud on the bottom a few years ago nearly made me throw up three times (that is not an exaggeration) and I've never felt truly clean since then.

No more living right next to the county fairgrounds. Hearing cows and sheep and roosters once or twice a year is kinda fun. Concerts so loud that the noise makes my walls and windows shake, not so much.

More room for activities!! And storage. Really looking forward to the storage and having more shelving so I don't have to keep any of my favorite junk hidden away in boxes.

A better kitchen! There are some recipes I haven't tried in a while (or never tried at all) since I don't have enough storage space (see above) to keep various cooking gear on hand.

A GARAGE!!!!!! My poor car hasn't had a roof over it's head for most of its life and I'm tired of how filthy it gets. The headlights have so much built up gunk on them I haven't bothered trying to clean since being outdoors 24/7 means it'd probably get bad again eventually. I'm weirdly looking forward to cleaning those and wonder if there'll be a noticeable difference in the light quality.

No more lugging groceries up the stairs. The garage leads right into the kitchen plus I won't have to shut the back hatch between trips if I can't carry everything in one go since I'm paranoid someone might try something funny in the few seconds my car would be out of my sight. Plus, I won't have to worry about wasps trying to build a nest in the door cracks. ...Hopefully.

Garbage and recycling pick up! I'm mainly happy that I won't have to take my recycling to a drop off center anymore. I tend to let it pile up…

Closer to family! I currently live on the opposite side of town. It's not a long drive to see them, but it'll be nice to be only 2-5 minutes away.

Customizing!!! I know I can technically paint the walls in my apartment if I wanted to, but putting everything back to normal before moving out would be a headache. If I want to go ham and Jackson Pollock up a wall I can do as I damn well please.

I will have a patio! It's small but it's a place to put a chair outside!! I can sit outside and not have to worry about making eye contact with neighbors!!!

Complementary to #13 - I will have a YARD! I can GO TOUCH GRASS. I can get a DOG someday. I'll have to get a fence installed first which won't be cheap, but that's okay because DOG.

The front door is purple. PURPLE. That was actually a paint choice the builder had and I took it. When I give directions to my house I can tell people it's the one with the purple door. No one tell my dad. He would uh...totally approve and I want it to be a surprise. Yeah.

I can mount a TV. Again, I technically could do it in my apartment but I don't really trust the walls to hold up… Anyway, I have a plan to move my consoles and other things currently hooked up on the TV stand to a shelf where I can have better cable management. That means no more cable jungle! Seriously, I wonder if the space behind my TV can be considered a fire hazard.

I think that's all I've got for now? I'll probably think of more to add to the list, but that covers most of it. If you read all that…what the hell man, I appreciate it but I know you've got better things to do with your time.

#deb rants #text post #seriously ya'll I'm a millenial I'm not supposed to be able to buy a house #like most millenials I can only afford it thanks to the help of family #I'm incredibly lucky to have parents trying to make it as easy as possible for me

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starsbegantofall · 5 months ago

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craft room update under the cut!

I've been struggling with keeping my craft room/wfh office clean for years ever since i moved into my house. Not only am I messy, a given for a free spirit like myself, but I'm also working on multiple projects at a time that cannot be put away or else they will be forgotten, also typical of free spirits. I also dislike commitment such as putting giant nail or screw holes in the walls for shelving and storage, which would have helped with keeping things organized or at least off the floor so I can vacuum up all the threads and dust.

A short while ago I moved the futon sofa bed out to my bedroom (not that it really fit there either) because the futon looked ugly and was gathering messes and dust and I never used it for its purpose. The futon now is a gathering place for pillows and plushies but sometimes I do sit on it to work on my journal or read a bit. So that's a slight improvement than no use at all. And I put a sheet over it so it's cute now.

With the biggest space-waster out of the way, I moved furniture around to make the best use of light from the window and recently purchased a cheap plastic Ikea shelf to hold lightweight bins and such. The aesthetics and feng shui are not perfect, but with determination, I was able to rehome almost all of my art supplies and boxes of projects off the floor where they had been preventing me from vacuuming and reaching the closet door. There are still a couple of trays of miscellaneous junk to sort through and I would like a better place for my recently obtained embroidery supply baskets, but that should be easy to resolve tomorrow. It better be.

The next biggest change was taking all of my booth/table stuff from a giant tupperware and consolidating the merch and signage on a small shelf since I doubt I will sell at a market or artist alley anytime soon. (Maybe at my retirement, but I don't think society will exist in 20 years, or not a society that will be buying my art anyway.) That freed up a lot of floor space as well. The other giant tupperware holds my wigs and I don't have a place for it in the stuffed cosplay closet, so it will just be hanging out in the center of the room as a mini table surface as usual. I also moved my photos and letters to my bedroom closet as they are not technically office or art supplies.

I pulled out some artsy or fashion postcards and stickers to decorate, labeled a few drawers, and placed vases of fake flowers around to help it look prettier as well instead of just utilitarian. Actually the flowers were from my previous PC desk setups, I never even put them away, lol.

The last few things on my list - add a cute curtain, find a home for the last few baskets I already mentioned and add more artwork to the wall as inspirations. And maybe hang up one small decorative shelf... if I can make that commitment lol. Anyway, I'm really happy that I finally pulled through and finished tidying up, you know, after years of being stressed out by my mess and unable to find anything and buying multiples I didn't need lmao. Now I'm excited to finish my sewing projects and work on new stuff, and I smile when I look at the semi-organized bins and rainbow colors of fabrics and flowers. Gotta celebrate the small wins in this evil and miserable world!

I will post photos on my blog hopefully soon!

#organizing stuff

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frostedfaves · 3 years ago

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Just Like Magic

Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Yelena invites her new best friend to hang out and ends up having to share. (Combined requests from @emilyprentissslut and anon)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!milf!wandanat with younger (21+) reader, dom/sub dynamics and mommy kink, a bit of manipulation/coercion, smut: oral, penetration, bondage, slight edging, nipple sucking

A/N: this took forever to write and I was going to post it where I last left off, but as long as I took with this, I wanted it to have somewhat of a proper ending. although I did leave off in a way that I could add onto this if I decide to later! anyway, can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

“You finally made it.”

The blonde girl offers you a sarcastic smile as you pass her on the threshold, your eyes wandering for a moment while she locks the door behind you.

“I told you that I couldn’t come over until 2.”

“As if you have anything more interesting going on.”

Yelena grabs your arm and leads you into the kitchen, giving you a playful shove toward the island as she continues to the refrigerator. You hop onto one of the stools, placing your bag on the floor beside you just in time to catch the bottle of water tossed directly at your face.

“I see your reflexes are still working,” she teases as another voice cuts in.

“That’s no way to treat your guests, Lena.”

The taunting grin on your best friend’s lips shifts to a scowl as two women come into view. Their eyes seem to be glued to your form, one pair holding a welcoming gaze and the other an air of indifference. Yelena gives them your name and identifies the pair as Natasha and Wanda, and Natasha steps closer to you with her hand outstretched.

“Don’t listen to our little dorogoya.” Natasha nods toward the younger blonde with a teasing smirk. “We’re her mothers.”

“That’s not technically true,” Wanda clarifies over Yelena’s incoming protests. “We do love her like we created her ourselves--”

“But mentors would be a more accurate ‘M’ word,” Yelena adds, pushing past the pair to grab your bag from the floor. “Let’s go before they say something else that makes me gag.”

“It was nice meeting you!”

Your words are rushed as you scramble out of the kitchen, trying to avoid staring at Natasha while she subtly unzips her hoodie. Her hand releases the zipper once you’re out of sight, but Wanda grabs it to finish the job.

“You’re a tease,” she comments while raising her tank top, and Natasha places her hands on her cheeks with a smile.

“Tell me what she’s thinking.”

“She’s definitely interested, but she needs more.” Wanda lowers her head and touches her lips to one of Natasha’s exposed nipples. “I think I need more, too.”

Natasha bites her lip and threads her fingers through her lover’s hair to pull her flush against her chest.

“Then take it.”

“Wait!” you call out before Yelena can throw the ball again. “Where's the bathroom? I have to pee.”

“You Americans and your weak bladders.” She rolls her eyes playfully as she plops on the ground to take a seat. “It’s the last door on the left.”

You enter the house again through the sliding door of the kitchen, passing through the room to the hallway. The bathroom is easy to locate and you’re in and out pretty quickly, but soft musical notes floating through the crack of a door stop you before you can make your way back outside. Opening the door further reveals a staircase heading toward what you assume is the basement, and before you have time to form doubts, you find yourself descending.

The music guides you to another cracked door, and you freeze in your movements when you notice Natasha and Wanda in the far corner of the room. Making sure you’re still out of sight, you take a look around the parts of the room you can see from the doorway, and it doesn’t take long to figure out what the space is for. There are various ropes, chains and ball gags hanging along the walls, and shelves hold harnesses, vibrators and dildos of all sizes.

“Flavored lube?” Wanda eyes the bottle curiously as she takes it from Natasha.

“Yeah, I figured it would be fun to try.”

“As if you don’t taste amazing enough on your own,” Wanda places her hand on Natasha’s chest, causing her to chuckle.

“It’s not for us, love.” Natasha raises her brow, and her wife seems to have a look of realization.

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

“I don’t think she’ll mind a little help getting this inside of her.”

You nearly give away your position with a gasp when the red haired woman holds up a harness with a protruding length that seems almost as big as her forearm. Deciding you’ve seen way more than you were meant to, you head back upstairs as quickly and silently as you can, trying your best to ignore your wandering thoughts as you join Yelena again.

“What took you so long?” she scowls as she jumps to her feet again. “You were staring at that ugly painting on the wall, weren’t you?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” you argue, turning your back to grab your water and give yourself extra time to catch your breath.

“If you keep chugging that, you’ll have to pee again.” You hear her laugh before you feel the ball lightly hit your back. “But I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You had yet to discover if she was right or not.

“Dinner was amazing. Thank you, Miss Maximoff,” you address Wanda as she collects everyone’s plates, not quite meeting hers or Natasha’s eyes until she stops in front of you.

“You can call me Wanda, honey. I don’t mind at all.” She offers you a sweet smile before looking past you toward Yelena. “Lena, do you mind helping me clean up? I need to show you something anyway.”

Yelena opens her mouth, fully prepared to make a comment about Wanda being able to handle the whole house with a simple flick of her wrist but a pointed look from Natasha stops her.

“Sure.”

You watch her grab everyone’s glasses and follow Wanda into the kitchen, and you release a quiet yelp when you feel Natasha grab your chin a moment later. Your eyes widen when you realize just how quickly she traveled to your side of the table from her chair, and you feel nerves settling in as her eyes study your form.

“You’re a gorgeous little thing, aren’t you?”

The longer you stare at her, the calmer you feel as the desire to push her away leaves your body. She moves her thumb and presses against your lips forcefully until you part them, her smile widening as she begins rubbing along your tongue and your lips close around her.

“That’s it, such a good girl for me. Do you think you can behave like this for Wanda, too?”

“I would hope so.” Wanda’s voice fills the room again as she reenters, placing one hand on your neck as she lightly kisses the other side, just below your ear. “You wouldn’t want to be punished before you’ve even had a chance to be rewarded, would you?”

“No, Wanda,” you answer the best you can around Natasha’s thumb, and her grip on your neck tightens.

“You call us Mommy now.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Perfect, printsessa,” Natasha praises as she pulls her hand away, Wanda also stepping back as she pulls you to your feet. “Now why don’t you lead us downstairs? I believe you already know where to go.”

“You knew I was there?” you ask timidly and Wanda laughs.

“Why do you think you went down there in the first place?”

Natasha grabs your shoulders and turns you around, giving you a light shove toward the hallway. You cautiously lead the two women toward the basement door, glancing into the kitchen and feeling a knot growing in your stomach when you don’t see Yelena at all.

The door is locked behind you once you reach the intimidating room again, and you’re pushed onto a bed before each woman grabs one of your hands and chains you to the wall. Wanda straddles you and kisses you eagerly, moving her hips to grind her covered pussy against yours. Vibrations pass between the two of you as you moan into each other’s mouths until she pulls away and stands on the mattress to take off her panties.

“You think you can make Mommy cum like this?” She challenges while lifting her dress and lowering herself to sit on your face, a quiet moan escaping when you press your tongue against her clit in response. “Good fucking girl.”

“What about while your other Mommy fucks you?”

You can feel Natasha removing your pants and underwear, bending your legs at the knee as she joins the two of you on the bed and hooks her arms around them. You can already feel yourself clenching a bit in preparation for what you know is coming, and a muffled moan escapes you when she runs the tip of her tongue along your folds.

“What does she taste like?” Wanda cries out to her lover while you suck on her clit desperately, and Natasha pulls away just long enough to answer.

“Like she was worth waiting five months for.”

Wanda continues to ride your face, forcing herself to keep going past her orgasm while Natasha teases you relentlessly with her tongue. Just when you think she might let you cum, she pulls away abruptly, leaving you whining into Wanda’s pussy and grinding against nothing.

“Patience, printessa,” she scolds you from across the room. “You don’t get to have things simply because you want them.”

You jump and let out a sound that’s a cross between a yelp and a moan when her hand smacks your sensitive clit, gasping when the slap is followed by the head of a dildo running through your folds toward your entrance. Bucking your hips toward it causes it to slip inside you a bit, and Natasha groans at the sight.

“Look at my pretty pussy so eager to take me.”

She takes her time easing half of the length into you as you clench around it occasionally, thrusting gently for a bit and then roughly pounding her way in until her hips are nearly meeting yours with every powerful stroke. If Wanda wasn’t keeping you muffled, you’d be screaming right now. From pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell the difference anymore, you just knew something inside you felt amazing.

“Whatever you’re doing to her, Tash, please don’t stop,” Wanda calls over her shoulder through gritted teeth in between groans. “She’s fucking killing me right now in the best way possible.”

“Don’t worry...” Natasha roughly tugs your waist to bring you closer and Wanda scrambles to balance herself on the mattress as she continues to ride your face. “You know I don’t plan on letting her go anytime soon.”

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roscgcld · 4 years ago

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HEADCANONS + GOJO SATORU || onii-chan

note: this was a few ideas given to me by my beloved 🌸Anon - a bunch of new gojotwins!au headcanons c: this one is a little different compared to my other story, so this is a stand alone one. might turn it into a series if it gets enough love, but we’ll see~ you can read the original ask here!

pronouns: she/her

note: mentions of blood and death and spoilers for volume 8 & 9 of the manga. SUPER LONG by the way lol

gojotwins!au masterlist

twins have always been viewed as a bad omen for the parents - there are high chances of both twins developing no Cursed Technique at all, or have a Cursed Technique that is not desirable. So there had been no hope when one of the wives from the main family of the gojo clan was pregnant, and from what they can tell with twins at that

so it was a huge surprise to not only the elders but the entire jujutsu world when not one, but both of the twins were born with the coveted Six Eyes - something that had never happened in the history of the gojo clan. it was a moment to be celebrated!

if only they knew just what was lies ahead

much to the delight of the elders, the older one of the twins was the boy, satoru, while the girl was born 20 minutes after - it wouldn’t have mattered if it was the other way around, but just having the young boy being the one born first was definitely the icing on the cake

both of you were an absolute headache to deal with, causing so much chaos and mayhem that the elders had wondered if they should have celebrated at the idea of having two Six Eyes users under the same house was a good thing

the both of you trained together throughout your younger years, with satoru becoming super overprotective even though you were twins - he understood from a young age that the both of you were starting at different levels of footing because of your gender

yes, you are a girl - but at 7 years old you had exorcise a Grade-Two Curse by yourself with no more than an annoyed click of your tongue and a snap of your fingers, walking away whilst whining about how it got your favourite dress dirty

with that being said though, he loves to tease you are still the younger one between the both of you, and had teased you about how you should refer to him as ‘onii-chan’ instead of his first name

“come on, Y/N~ it’s a sign of respect~”

“i am going to spend you to outer space one of these days.”

the two of you were already known about the jujutsu world way before you even became old enough to enroll in Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College - you two were even allowed to enter without an interview with the then principal of the school

who would want to waste their time interviewing two highly over qualified teenagers anyway?

the first time you met geto and shoko, they were both intimidated by your sheer presence. the both of them have heard talks about the gojo twins entering their year as a pair

so when they had first met you, standing there in your uniform with your bright blue eyes hiding behind a pair of blacked out sunglasses and an indifferent look on your face - they definitely felt a shiver go through their bodies

however, when they saw your twin brother appearing behind you with the biggest grin, hugging you from behind whilst you scowled and tried to push his head away - they were definitely less intimidated now

“now, now, Y/N-chan, stop being so scary~”

“nii-chan, i am giving you three seconds to let go of me.”

the two of you quite the duo, especially when you two are always pinned against one another with more difficult and more challenging missions compared to when you were under the care of the gojo clan

geto felt less pressure to match up to his friend, since satoru and Y/N are always at each other’s throat - wanting to outmatch the other and one up the other with silly things like Curse head counts and how difficult its level is

with that being said, satoru is very protective of you - if any so much as speaks poorly of you, he would not hesitate to put them in their place

“oya? what makes you think you can speak of my baby sister like that?” satoru had hummed towards the small group of men, who were commenting on how beautiful the young woman was followed by a lot of unsavoury comments.

satoru still sported his casual smile, yet there was a certain air around him that made them shut their mouths up real fast. “mind repeating that? just want to make sure that i have a good enough reason to put your lazy asses six feet underground..”

after that specific incident by the way, satoru had you and your friends out on a little excursion around tokyo - where they just did a bunch of stupid things together to calm down

you can read him like the back of a book though, so when both of your friends went away to browse through some shelves in a video game store, you just wrapped your arms around your brother with a smile. “you know, nii-chan, you don’t need to go about protect my honour. i’m a big girl now.”

he’d just blink down at you before giving you a soft but genuine smile, petting the top of your head with one of his hand while the other was resting inside of his pocket. “if i don’t protect you, who am i going to protect?”

that statement was proven during your second year - a cursed user had overpowered you and shoko and had taken the both of you hostage. the curse user had practically beaten you into a pulp, knowing that you were the stronger one between the two

shoko had been tied up and beaten as well, but you were definitely taking the brunt of his anger - along with being forced to listen about how he was going to sell you to some low life family that had been trying to get you to marry their sorry excuse of a son.

you don’t even remember meeting the father of the boy, who had claimed to visit the gojo clan home a few times now

“you gonna be a good girl for me?” the man had gripped as he gripped your hair in his hands, giving you a smirk whilst you scowled over at him in annoyance, blinking the blood out of your eyes from the wound on the top of your head.

before you can give another snarky answer in reply that will get you another beating, the sound of someone kicking the door in. before either one of you can move, the man suddenly let go of your hair with a pained gasp as someone grabbed his hair and forced his head back, looking up into a pair of glowing blue eyes

“get your filthy hands off my baby sister.”

geto was in charge of taking care of the both of you, leaving the room with a simple reminder to satoru that they needed to bring the man back alive

both of you spending most of your time trying to unlock the many secrets of the Limitless, and how to control it better

during the entire star plasma vessel fiasco, you had stayed by geto’s side. and while you didn’t manage to save rika from being murdered, you had, like gojo, managed to touch the core of cursed energy

toji had ‘killed you’ before he went after geto, yet like satoru, he did not decapitate your head; so you had slowly started to use the reverse curse technique to heal your wounds

so you couldn’t believe satoru’s belief when he found you using reverse cursed technique to heal geto, wrapping you up in his arms while you just smile and hold him as well

the three of you plus shoko had turned to one another for comfort, because along the way you four have grown close to the young girl, and her death really affected all of you

but if there is something bright that came out from this, is that you and your brother had really elevated yourselves to become the strongest duo of the new generation - both pretty much an entire chest above the current active sorcerers

after satoru had calmed down, he had told you about what toji had said to him before his death - about how he has a son that he had planned to sell of to the zen’ins

the two of you went to visit the young boy, discovering that he had an older sister as well; and without hesitation you had taken the both of them under your wing, pulling a few strings behind the scenes while also trying to provide him with as normal as a life as you two could

megumi had viewed you as a mother figure, someone who looked out for him and tsumiki, teaching the two of them life skills like sewing and cooking, making sure they always have warm meals.

you never miss their birthdays either - always making sure to get them either a cake or a small cupcake with a candle on the top to blow out just for the sake of tradition

sure, satoru loves to spoil them too, but he acted more like their chilled older brother - he definitely relies on you more as a parental figure he had lacked for quite a huge part of his childhood

he had remembered how once, when you had made him his favourite curry and rice after a long week, he just sighed and said, “thanks mum,” before he started to eat his meal

at first you froze in shock, and megumi did too - but before the blushing teen can apologise, you had already wrapped him up in your arms as you just cried your heart out

satoru had teasingly asked him if megumi can call him ‘dad’, to which megumi just scowled and sent his divine dogs after your brother

satoru loves to introduce you two as the ‘strongest duo’ by the way - which makes you super awkward and you hate it with a passion. he wasn’t wrong, but it’s still awkward

“we’re the Gojos - the strongest duo out there.”

“please stop calling us that.”

feel like because you’re there, geto might still be on the path to the light lmao - like mans will be a teacher in school and you three will be dub the ‘idiot trinity’ or some bullshit nickname lol - the three biggest troublemakers in the jujutsu world

yet the three most capable ones as well - absolutely drive the higher ups of the jujutsu world insane

with that being said though - the three of you definitely hashed a plan to change the jujutsu world together. even shoko agrees that there should be some change to the old ways of the jujutsu world; so the four of you decided to sign up to work as teachers at Jujutsu High

the first group of students you took under your wing was the then first years - maki, toge, panda, and eventually yuta when he joined your little class

you are the mother for the students while geto is the responsible dad; satoru is the crazy uncle that is not allowed to supervise the students alone, and shoko is the cool aunt who lets you skip class in her office if you want

all the students have, at one point, just referred to you as ‘mum’ and you had always just accepted that with a soft smile and a pat on the top of their head

even if they are taller than you, they will willingly bend down to your height so you can pet them on the head - even megumi lets you get away with it

when itadori and nobara came into the picture, you had taken them un as your own as well - but you did spend a good 5 minutes laughing with geto at the idea that yuji manages to control sukuna like he is just an annoying imaginary friend in the back of his head that refuses to shut up

you had tried to give them some form of normality and comforts as teenagers, even if many times they were forced into very uncomfortable situations

all in all - it was utter chaos the moment both you and satoru were born. yet it was a miracle nonetheless. many times you prove to the world that your bond is stronger than people think it is, and that you two will go through anything to make sure the other is safe.

you are the younger one, but the more responsible one too. the motherly figure that everyone turned to, even your friends and brother, who needs comfort and a warm meal. yet if provoked, you can become deadly and kill with no hesitation. it’s because of this, both you and your brother are considered as quite the deadly duo; the strongest ones around.

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years ago

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in which a new relationship sparks up in the restaurant.

a/n: hi loves! i’m back with a new story, and this is for nat’s @harrystylescherry playlist fic challenge! the song i chose is ‘say it’ by maggie rogers, which is one of my absolute favorite songs! hope you all like it, please reblog and leave feedback!

WORD COUNT: 13.8k words of waiter!harry x waitress!yn

WARNINGS: angst and some smut

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘SAY IT’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share <3

It was eleven in the morning when Harry walked through the back door of ‘Spring,’ ready to start his long day of being on his feet while waiting tables.

He walked to the staff’s lounge that held their lockers and a bench before looking around to see if anyone else was in the locker room; he turned the dial of his lock pad to open his blue locker. His coworkers would always tease him about being so secretive when he knows that no one would actually steal from him, but better to be safe than sorry, and he couldn’t imagine how awkward that would be confronting one of his coworkers if they actually had stolen from him.

He put his white canvas tote bag that was printed in a brown text that said ‘Celestial Natural Foods’—a store in Hawaii—in his locker and hanging it on one out of the two hooks before grabbing his black waist apron and tying it around his waist.

The restaurant’s attire was a simple white or black button down with black trousers. The manager of the restaurant, Irene, told the staff that they could choose either color shirt whenever they pleased. As for jewelry, she didn’t mind when her waiters and waitresses wore jewelry, as long as it wasn’t interfering with how they held the plates of food, causing them to drop it. Harry was glad to hear that Irene allowed jewelry because his rings and necklaces made him Harry. Twisting his rings and fixing his necklaces, he took a quick glance at the small mirror that was stuck on the inside of the door with a magnet, and combed his hair back with his hands before closing his locker shut and locking it.��

He washed his hands at the sink next to the locker room, and he smiled at the commotion and noise from behind him that came from the kitchen crew. They were prepping for the dinner hour, chopping up various vegetables, making the restaurant’s famous dressing and sauces, and baking the side dishes that usually took a while in the oven.

“Hey, Harry!” Jet, one of the sous chefs, greeted as he looked up at Harry with a big smile as he continued chopping up cabbage like the professional chef that he was.

Harry chuckled, amazed at his knife skills. “Hey, Jet. How are you today?” He leaned against the stainless steel countertop as he talked to Jet through the open space of the shelves, where the food rested under the heated and dim light when it was ready to be served.

“I’m doing great! How was your three day vacation?”

“It was okay. It went by fast, but I missed it here anyways,” Harry responded with a smile. Jet laughed, nodding.

“Well, we missed you too. Anyways, Irene told me to tell you that she’s looking for you.” Harry squinted his eyes slightly, not knowing whether Irene looking for him was a good or bad thing, and Jet seemed to notice what he was thinking. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing bad.”

Harry nodded, feeling somewhat relieved. Jet was his closest friend at Spring, ever since Harry started working as a waiter three years ago. He desperately needed a job because being his own boss and freelancing as a photographer could be difficult sometimes; and building up a client list when he first started out was even harder. But three years later, he was able to get his name around through his clients, and he earned enough where he could technically quit his job at Spring and focused purely on photography; however, Harry liked the restaurant too much to just quit—he liked serving people, believe it or not. His charms go a long way for respectful and kind customers, and of course, a great tip. Most of his friends always worked here as well, as he didn’t have quite a lot of friends since he moved from London, but his coworkers had become his very own friends, and he loved them too much to leave.

“Thanks, I’ll see you when we open!” Harry said as Jet waved to him, watching him walk around the counter to find Irene who was talking to a woman he’s never seen before.

He’s always loved walking through the restaurant because it had such a friendly and open vibe with white painted walls, trees planted in a line in the middle of the floor, and a big glass ceiling for a solarium ambience. His favorite part was that there were no walls to separate the dining area from the kitchen, so customers could see straight through the kitchen and watch the chefs work on their food with just a turn of their heads.

“Ah, there he is,” Irene said once Harry was close enough. “I’m glad you’re early.”

“Irene, I’m always early, what do you mean?” Harry breathed out a chuckle.

“I know you are. I’m just glad you’re extra early today because I need you to train this lovely woman next to me.” Irene stepped out of the way to reveal you to the waiter that was going to train you today.

Harry looked at you, and immediately, his breath was caught in his throat. The light that was provided through the glass ceiling cast down at you, giving you a glow that was ethereal, and he mentally thanked the interior designer of the restaurant from so many years ago for insisting on putting a glass ceiling instead of a regular, covered one. There you were, standing in the open light as you flashed him a smile that almost made him collapse due to how weak his knees were, and he physically had to place a hand on the brown wooden table next to him to keep himself up. You were stunning, to say the least.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you offered him a hand, smiling softly at him. He shook your hand, feeling the softness of your small hand and how it contrasted to his large and somewhat rough hand.

“I’m Harry. It’s lovely to meet you.” He smiled, two dimples indenting his cheeks. You noticed that his left dimple was more prominent than his right, but either way, you thought he was a gorgeous man.

Yours and Harry’s eyes had lingered a bit longer, and once you had caught yourself staring, you forced yourself to take your eyes off him, even though it was difficult to. And that’s when you knew it was going to be a slight problem working around him.

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Irene interrupted. She turned towards Harry. “Harry, this is our newest addition to our waiting staff. You’ve been here long enough and it seems like you’re here everyday, so I’m going to leave her with you to train.” Once she was down, Irene turned towards you. “Y/N, you’re going to train with Harry for the rest of the week. It’s usually two weeks that are required for training, but since you’ve had waiting experience before, I’ll knock it down to one, and by the end of the week, we’ll see how you’re doing and where you are with everything. Sounds good?”

You nodded excitedly, giving her a bright smile before she clapped her hands and said ‘great.’ Harry looked at you the entire time, and he just knew that you were the type of person that could light up a room with your beautiful and bright smile.

Irene turned towards Harry once more. “Show her the ropes, introduce her to people, and just make her comfortable, yeah?” Harry nodded, teasingly saluting at his boss as he earned a laugh from her.

Irene left, leaving the two of you, but your attention was preoccupied with the restaurant as you eagerly looked around, getting familiar with the place you’d hoped to be stable at for a while.

Harry cleared his throat, to which you immediately looked at him. He gave you a smile before he said, “So, ready for your first day?”

“Ready!” You exclaimed, tone a bit too excited, making you slightly embarrassed, so you curled your lips into your mouth and looked around the restaurant again to hide your slight embarrassment.

Harry giggled. “Don’t look around too much—you might get tired of this place before you even start,” he teased, completely forgetting how shy and embarrassed you looked.

“I think I’m gonna like it here,” you confessed immediately, feeling a certain comfort once you walked into the restaurant. Hell, the moment you researched the restaurant, you loved the place.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Harry led you around the counter where customers could watch the chefs in action as they cooked their meals. “This is where you could get all the supplies needed—napkins, extra plates, utensils, place mats, everything should be here. If not, then it’ll usually be in the kitchen, right over here.” He walked over to the kitchen where there were more supplies under the table, and pointed below the table. “Here’s more if the ones behind the counter run out, and if they do run out and you just so happen to be there, please make sure to refill it.” You nodded understandingly.

Harry walked you through the steps of how the system of the restaurants worked as he imputed a demo order into the system on the touchable screen. There were five order screens, one in each corner of the restaurant, one behind the counter, and one in the kitchen; there shouldn’t be any collision or anyone waiting for one of the severs to finish with the screen because there were only about four to five servers working every shift considering it was a small restaurant. Harry then walked you along on where to pick up the order as every dish had its receipt with the order printed on the paper along with the table number. He told you that the table numbers are in order of how the tables are set up—number one starts with the countertops since it’s closest to the entrance, following along the walls, and the tables in the middle were numbered last.

You liked how easy their routine and system was that you were sure you’d have it down by the end of the week. Harry made sure to introduce you to the staff that you two passed by as he led you throughout the restaurant; he made you feel comfortable right from the bat, making sure to make a few jokes here and there that certainly released some tension in your shoulders from nerves. You were grateful that he made you laugh--you were worried that you wouldn’t like your coworkers or they would be mean and snarky because you’re the newbie, but with Harry, it seemed like you two were getting along quite well; he was polite, helpful, and kind.

“So, that’s pretty much it.” He looked at the time on his Apple Watch, reading a quarter to six in the evening, 15 minutes until Spring opened for dinner. “Do you have any questions?”

You tried thinking of anything that you could ask, but your mind seemed to have collected all the information Harry had told you and retained it quite well. “No, nothing I can think of at the moment.”

“Great. For now, do you mind checking the placemats and the table decor for me?” You nodded helpfully. “And then if you have any remaining time left, just chill out and take a breather for a second, and then come find me when we open.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” You smiled at him sweetly, making him smile back before he walked away and towards the kitchen.

You headed towards the dining room, making sure the woven placements were symmetrical and even; you also straightened out the utensils that made their way out of line or off the tablemats. You did this for the rest of the ten minutes you had of peace before you made your way through the restaurant to find Harry.

The entire time you were in the dining room, Harry was in the locker room, mindlessly on his phone to waste time. He was lucky that he didn’t have to do anything before the restaurant opened, so he had some spare time to relax for a bit. He tried cooling down to get the pink flush that painted his cheeks off, but that’s what happened when he was around you; immediately, you had already had this effect on him, making him blush and nervous around you, and he didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way you brightly smiled at him, practically gleaming; or the way you laughed at his jokes, which even he could admit are a bit corny and bad—a very dad-like joke, but you still laughed.

Whatever it was, he knew that he was fucked.

Dinner time was a rush. Spring was busy and full; the reservation booklet was booked with no space to cater to walk-ins.

You were shadowing Harry as you followed him around like a lost puppy, watching him interact with the customers, occasionally pulling out his charm so he would get a big tip. You couldn’t imagine if you were a customer and Harry was your server because your face would heat up instantly, and it would be difficult to contain a smile on your face. He had such a natural charm to him, making him naturally flirty as he flashed customers his smile and laughing at their horribly made jokes.

For half of the night, you simply followed him around, watched the paths he took when he got the customers’ food and his overall routine of things. With every table he got assigned to, he made sure to introduce you to the party, always glancing over at you once he said your name as you greeted the customers with a bright smile. Harry nearly had to stop every time he glanced over at you as it seemed like your beauty always distracted him.

You helped him with dealing with the plates, beverages, and getting extra necessities such as cheese, hot sauce, or extra utensils and plates for the table.

Once the restaurant died down a bit, you and Harry were able to walk a bit slower, relaxing each time a party leaves. When there was about an hour and a half left of your shift and till the restaurant closes, Harry asked you if you’d like to take orders, saying it’ll be best if he observed how you would talk and serve the customers, and you excitedly said ‘yes.’ Harry was only assigned to five to six tables during his shift, and since it was near closing time, there were only two that had just arrived.

Harry politely introduced himself, telling the parties that you were new and shadowing him, but you were going to take over for the rest of their stay at Spring. He watched you kindly talk to them, occasionally making small talk as you laughed with them; you talked about your favorite items on the menu, along with your favorite selection of wine. This time, Harry helped you with your tasks that you had done before you two switched off, and he immediately admitted to himself that the two of you made such a great team. It was only your first day here, and he already saw how naturally the both of you moved around one another, along with communicating so well with each other.

You were bidding the last party in the restaurant goodbye with a wave and telling them to enjoy the rest of their evening before you grabbed the mason jar that held the bill, along with the tips. You walked over to the kitchen where Irene was counting all the money and placed the mason jar besides her, giving her a smile before walking over to the locker room.

Harry was sitting on the bench with his phone in his hands, and looked up once you entered the room.

“How was your first day?” He smiled.

“It was actually really great. The energy here is amazing.”

“Well, I’m glad. You’re a natural, and it helps both of us that you already have restaurant experience.” Harry completely put his phone away into his tote bag, giving you his attention, which you really admired. Some people would make small talk and quickly end the conversation to go back on their phones. “Where did you work before, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I actually moved here from NorCal—San Francisco—just two weeks ago. But I worked at one of the restaurants at Pier 49. The restaurant was pretty small and we weren’t as busy as it was here, only on the weekends we would get a bit busy. So, this is definitely completely different than being outside and smelling the fresh ocean a few feet away,” you explained, chuckling.

“Wow, SF, that’s quite the trip. But we’re glad to have you. I think you’re fitting right in.”

“Thank you. I already like it here.” Harry gave you a warm smile, grateful that you had a great first day, and that Spring gave you a good first impression for you to stay.

The two of you chatted a bit, talking about the customers you had and laughing at the jokes they made or the conversations they talked about. It was kind-hearted and fun, and a conversation that made you feel light; it wasn’t anything serious. It ended when it was time for closing, cleaning up and making sure everything was in order for tomorrow afternoon’s shift.

Irene handed the staff their tips for the night, which you amounted for $120 for a Sunday night. It wasn’t bad for your first night of tips, and you knew you would be working a lot more since this was your only job and you weren’t doing anything else.

As everyone walked outside into the staff parking lot, everyone said their goodbyes to one another, spreading apart and walking out to their vehicles.

Once you opened your car door, Harry called out for you from the opposite side of where you parked.

“Yeah?” You raised your brows.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He offered a smile before getting into his car and starting it, but he waited until you were safely inside of your car and out of the parking garage, and then he would leave.

He couldn’t help but notice the smile that appeared onto your face before you got inside your car, and he couldn’t help but think about how incredibly beautiful you are.

The entire week went on just like your first day. You were getting more comfortable with the flow of the restaurant, and where everything was. You continued shadowing Harry, but some days, he would let you serve your customers for the entire shift.

Now that it was Friday evening, you couldn’t wait to relax the next day. You had told Irene that you were available all days of the week, and since you were new and still needed to complete training, she scheduled you for Sunday to Friday, getting Saturday off, which you appreciated. When you told yourself that you were able to work all day, you didn’t realize how exhausting and tiring that was until it came down to the end of the week as your feet ached, telling you to sit down for at least an entire day.

Once it was closing time, you were finally able to catch a breath as you cleaned up part of the dining room. Chatter and laughter was heard from the kitchen quite loud as it echoed against the walls; you smiled, enjoying the sound of laughter, especially when it came from people you knew.

As you were mindlessly wiping down tables, Harry walked up to you with two cocktails in his hands, smiling as he handed you one. You raised your brows, hesitant to take it from him as you wondered if it was allowed to drink since you were technically still on the clock.

“Irene made them for us, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said as if he read your mind. You breathed out a chuckle, taking a glass before thanking him and clinking your glass with his before taking a sip of the cold tequila drink. You sighed in relief, and Harry giggled. “Do you have any plans for tonight? I know it’s almost midnight, but I mean…you could still.” He felt his ears heat up, feeling a tad bit nervous when he was around you.

“No, I don’t. I don’t really have any friends in SoCal, but I can't wait to go home and sleep.”

“O-Oh okay, I was just gonna ask if you’d like to stay for a bit longer.”

“Here? For what?” You asked curiously.

“Well, the lot of us get together after night shifts to do a mini celebration at the end of the long and busy week. We only do it Fridays since that’s when most of us are working all together,” he said referring to the bunch laughing and talking in the kitchen. You did notice now that you had been working with the same group of people, and partially that was because you only mostly worked night shifts and so did the rest. “We usually stay for an hour—drink, eat, talk. It made us closer, actually, so I’d thought you might like to join since you’re new,” he invited.

You didn’t take long to think of an answer—to weigh out your choices of wanting to go to bed at a somewhat reasonable time or stay an extra hour and hang out with your coworkers.

“I’d actually really love that, thank you,” you accepted his invitation with a sweet smile, making Harry’s heart pound just a tad bit harder against his chest.

“Great! Well, come on into the kitchen when you’re done. The chefs are cooking up some food,” he said before he walked away, leaving you to finish up your tasks for the night, which didn’t take you any more than ten minutes to finish up.

You walked into the kitchen and Harry immediately handed you a plate that you gladly took. Jet excitedly waved to you to go over to the stove so he could serve you.

“Allergic to anything?” He asked to make sure you weren’t going into the emergency room tonight.

“Uh, shellfish when it’s consumed. I’m okay to be around it, though.”

“Oh shit, this would not be good for you.” His eyes widened as he immediately dropped the large silver serving spoon of the lobster risotto; it looked absolutely delicious. “Good thing I’m prepared. Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?”

“Love.”

“Great!” He started plating your plate with the food before handing it back to you with an ‘enjoy!’ as you thanked him.

Once everyone was satisfied, you all headed out to the dining table, settling on a large rectangle table comfortably. There were about twelve of you, and it seemed like everyone had assigned seats since they immediately went straight to their spot and placed their table or drink in front of it.

You were a bit lost, not knowing where to sit, and the only person you’re reasonably close to was Harry, but it seemed like he was a bit preoccupied chatting with Quinn, another chef.

“Y/N! Sit next to me, yeah?” Ivy, one of the waitresses called out for you. You smiled, thankful she was the one to ask you, and you gladly took a seat next to her.

Harry took the seat in front of Ivy, diagonal from you, and he really wished he was the one sitting next to you.

“Damn, I really should get a large circle table for all of us so we could see each other’s faces,” Irene suggested, and the group agreed, but everyone wondered where it would be placed since the restaurant had no space for another large table.

Everyone broke out into their own conversations, chatting with one another freely and as loud as they wanted.

“How was your first week here, Y/N?” Ivy asked.

“It was great! I really love this place.” Harry looked at you as you talked with Ivy. He really could get lost just looking at your beauty, and sometimes, he would have to knock himself out of his glare to prevent him from getting caught. He was just so captivated by you, and it didn’t take a lot of effort for him to be so drawn to you.

Ivy had definitely noticed Harry’s stare from the corner of her eye, and admittingly, she got jealous because she’s had a small crush on Harry ever since she started working at Spring four months ago. But it wasn’t like she was going to do anything about it because it seemed like he didn’t take interest in her, so she wasn’t going to force it. However, it didn’t slip past her that you occasionally glanced over at Harry as well—briefly averting your eyes towards him once he took a sip of his water or someone had pulled him out of his attention on you to make conversation.

Gently pulling you by the arm, Ivy leaned over to whisper into your ear. “Harry’s totally crushing on you.”

You pulled back, shocked. “What?” You mouthed.

“He can’t stop looking at you—it’s so obvious.” You simply chuckled, shaking your head slightly as your cheeks felt warm, not from the alcohol or how close everyone was sitting, but because you couldn’t even believe that Harry would have a crush on you. Sure, you two had spent the entirety of your shifts together, but you didn’t think that he would have a crush on you.

You tried not to think of Ivy’s words for the rest of the night, and you tried even harder to not look at Harry to catch it he was staring at you. Your thoughts seemed to make you more drunk when you were trying to sober up to drive back home. You only had three cocktails, which was quite mindless of you to be drinking when you had to drive home, but you simply wanted to have fun because you deserved it, and you were comfortable and making friends. And everyone seemed to be drinking as well as they were getting a ride from the more responsible ones who were driving and leaving their car in the parking garage during the night.

Once everyone was all out of their social battery with their plates and glasses empty, you all started to clean up, helping one another to make the process of going home quicke; there were two people washing the dishes and two people drying as the rest put those dishes away and cleaned the table.

Just like every single night, everyone said their goodbyes in the parking lot before going to their cars to head home for a good night's rest.

You were sober, but you didn’t feel safe enough to drive, and you don’t know if that’s the alcohol or the thoughts of Harry making you dizzy. So, instead of walking to your car, you took out your phone and opened the Uber app, knowing you’d be able to get a ride home quickly since it was past midnight on a Friday night.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” Harry asked, walking up to you once he noticed that you weren’t going to your car. He made it a habit to watch you get inside your car and leave the parking garage safely because anything could happen in the few minutes if he left before you.

“I’m calling an Uber. I don’t wanna drive back…” you replied before looking down at your phone again.

“Oh, I could drive you home, if you’d like?” He offered politely.

“Really? You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist. I would feel better knowing that I was the one that got you home safely.” The corners of your lips couldn’t help but turn up into a smile as your heart fluttered against your ribcage.

“That’s really sweet, Harry, I’d like that,” you accepted. Harry grinned, leading you to his car as you followed; he walked over to the passenger seat, opening the door for you, which easily almost made your knees buckle in. How is he such a gentleman and so incredibly kind? You wondered, thinking about how rare it was to meet a man without anything leading to more than a conversation.

You thanked him before getting into his car; his car was very clean and he had a Saturn air freshener that hung on his rearview mirror, admitting a fresh lemon scent throughout his vehicle. Harry got in, handing you his phone to play some music and to enter your address before starting the car and driving out of the parking garage. You played Daniel Caesar, which you thought was the perfect kind of music for a night drive since your place was fifteen minutes away from the restaurant. The two of you sang along to ‘Hold Me Down’ as he watched you from the corner of his eye, adorably swaying in your seat to the song as you muttered the lyrics.

The sunroof cover was open, giving you an orange glow every time the car passed by a lamppost. Unconsciously, you both looked at one another every time the car stopped at a red light, both smiling at one another. You were thankful that it was dark out as it hid your big smile from how much you were giddy just looking at Harry.

Once the navigation told him that your place was on the right, he parked against the curb in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled your seatbelt before turning towards him in your seat as he turned towards you as well.

“Thank you for the ride, Harry. It was really kind of you to offer.”

“Not a problem. Don’t be hesitant to ask again. I rarely drink when we have our after-hours dinners, so you’re free to drink all you want and I’ll be glad to take you home,” he told you, and you smiled, nodding your head.

“I’ll keep that in mind. It’s just been a while since I drank and hung out with friends,” you explained.

“No worries. I’m glad you had fun, I assumed?”

“Yeah, lots of fun! I really like it there, and you made it bearable and fun as well as my trainer,” you admitted. Harry felt his cheeks slightly redden, and just as you were thinking, he was grateful it was dark out.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad. You’ll be on your own now. No need for me anymore since you’ve pretty much gotten everything done so quickly,” he chuckled, a dimple indenting his left cheek, making you hold in your breath.

“Can I still ask you for help if I need you?” You asked innocently, leaning your elbow against the middle console as you rested your chin against your fist. Harry pursed in his lips as his mind focused on the last three words that slipped out of your mouth--I need you. It was merely an innocent question relating to work that he shouldn’t think too much about, but he couldn’t help it.

“Of course. I’m always gonna be here if you need me,” he responded, keeping it friendly. At that, you smiled, nodding your head in acceptance. You gathered your belongings that rested at your feet before turning to face him again. Leaning forward, Harry thought you were leaning in to kiss him, which he wouldn’t mind whatsoever, but that dream was crushed when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, giving him a hug. He hugged you back, placing his hand against your back and slightly rubbing his hand up and down, hoping you couldn’t feel his heart hammering against his chest at the feel of your upper body slightly pressed against him.

You pulled away, giving him a shy smile. “I’ll see you on Sunday. Drive safe, okay?”

“Always do. Sleep well.” He bid you goodbye as you got out of his car, walking over to the entrance of your apartment complex. You turned around before you opened the door, waving at him before heading inside.

Harry drove off to his place, the opposite direction of your apartment, passing Spring. He could’ve honestly been home already in the comfort of his bed, but he didn’t mind taking you home at all. That only meant he got to spend a bit of more time together, but he noticed that with every passing second, minute, and hour, he felt himself falling for you just a bit more.

You’ve been at Spring for almost a month, and you couldn’t believe how fast the days went by. The more you worked, the more you started to feel a place at home with the restaurant. It was welcoming and fun, and all the credit was due to the people that you surrounded yourself with. You felt a difference in your attitude, your mood, and you liked the change that it brought you--you felt happy.

Being in San Francisco your entire life was great up until it wasn’t. It was a toxic place for you simply because of the people that you were surrounded with. You noticed that you were always on fight-or-flight mode, ready for someone to make one comment at you so you could snap at them. You hated being and thinking like that, so the best thing you did for yourself was to move away from the toxicity of your hometown, and you were glad that you did.

It was another usual Friday evening, after hours at Spring as you sat in your usual seat next to Ivy as the two of you and Harry were laughing about a story Ivy was telling about her ex-boyfriend in college.

Harry looked over at you, heart swooning as he watched you laugh, wiping your under eyes from the tears that had slipped out. It was a beautiful sight, he’d say; you had such a beautiful smile and contagious laugh that he loved hearing, whether it’d be from the kitchen as he was in the dining room or in the locker room—wherever it was, he always smiled to himself when he heard it.

The two of you had gotten quite close, making the work environment bearable and fun. When you would be in the same area at the same time, you had this thing where you would bump his hip with yours lightly, and he would bump yours right back—of course, when there weren’t any food or drink handling. There would always be light conversations within those hip bumps, comfortably getting to know one another, whether it would be asking quick-fire questions or a random story about one another’s lives that would come to mind. It wasn’t an ordinary setting or time to get to know each other, but it made things fun because the two of you would come up with more questions to come up with the next time he bumped into you. It was nice having a thing with you, he thought.

There would be moments during those little meetings when your fingers would brush delicately against his, sending shivers to his body. It was simply overwhelming in the best way possible.

Everyone called it a night, doing the nightly routine of tidying and cleaning everything up. Despite the long shift and being on your feet, you still had quite a bit of energy that you would like to use up so you could get a night’s rest. You looked at your friends, seeing if anyone was up for a late night adventure just based off of their posture and how often they yawned, and it seemed like everyone was exhausted, for obvious reasons. But you’d ask one person before you decide to go alone.

Once everything was clean and ready for the Saturday’s brunch, everyone walked out of the restaurant, walking over to their cars.

“Hey, Harry?” You called out, making him instantly turn around at the sound of your voice.

“Yeah, love?” The pet name had merely slipped out, and you felt your face getting warm, shyly smiling.

“Uh, you could totally say no and I would completely understand why because it’s Friday night, and we had a long shift, and you must be tired-”

“Y/N?” You stopped talking, raising your brows. “Breath, yeah? Take your time,” he interrupted the rambling that you hadn’t known you were doing.

Nodding, you took a deep breath. You didn’t know why you were nervous, but every time you were around Harry, he just made you feel a certain swarm of butterflies entering your stomach.

“I’m not as tired as I thought, and I wanna end tonight with some sweets. So, would you like to come with me to get some dessert? Again, you could say no.”

Harry smiled. “I’d love to,” he replied with no second thought.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Plus, we could finally talk properly. Hate always walking away from our unfinished conversations.” He breathed out a chuckle, running his clad ring hand through his curls.

“Great! Oh, uh, do you mind if we take your car? I took an Uber here, but I’ll compensate with buying you cookies and paying for your gas,” you suggested, keeping your excitement at bay.

“No worries, c’mon. But I might take you up on the cookie offer.” He smiled, opening your door for you, which never failed to make you swoon.

As he started the car, warming up the engine and turning the heater on, you two debated on where to go. You suggested going to Insomnia Cookies in Santa Monica, which was a twenty minute drive from Downtown LA, and it closed at two In the morning, but only if he was down to drive the opposite direction of where you two lived. And luckily, he didn’t mind the drive because he was always down for a late night drive and adventure, especially if it was with you.

The car speakers played Frank Ocean, he merged on the 101, tapping his fingers along with the beat against the steering wheel. You subtly studied him as he drove, just as you did when you would glance at him across the restaurant. He always mindlessly curled his pink lips into his mouth, a habit that he, assumingly, had for years. You noticed how he would always play with his rings; his thumb would reach over to his other fingers to play with the heavy, metal rings; not helping that your mind would instantly go to what else his hands could do, especially to you, to your body, but you had to immediately snap yourself out of your thoughts to prevent them from going any further. Not to mention, the way his eyes always lit up; they had a natural gleam to them, making them incredibly irresistible to not look in his green eyes.

He was captivating in all the right ways, and you felt yourself falling for him quite quickly, making that fear inside of you light up, inflaming your body with anxiousness.

Your thoughts soon vanished when Harry pulled into a parking space in front of your destination, and he turned off the car. He turned to look at you, giving you a small smile before getting out. You decided to buy Harry anything he’d like, which he got the same six pack of cookies as you.

Harry suggested eating in his car, which you agreed. Although the cold in SoCal wasn’t the same coldness as it was in NorCal, you didn’t want to stand around and freeze. The two of you make light conversation, talking about social media and enjoying the warmth of the fresh baked cookies. You then realized that you hadn’t followed him on Instagram, so you asked for his username, which was just his first and last name.

“Your pictures are amazing,” you complimented.

“Stalking me already?” He teased. A smirk on his face present, making you roll your eyes as you didn’t know if you wanted to slap or kiss the smirk off—always wanting to go for the latter. “But thank you. I, uh, I actually took those myself.” Your eyes brightened. The photographs posted on his Instagram were mostly portraits of beautiful people, some of them were landscapes of a field or the mountains, but most of them were portraits. You knew very little about photography, thanks to the ‘Beginning of Photography 1’ class that you took in college, but you could see the depth of the picture and the way they’re taken; the emotion was clearly there, making you feel intensity through the picture.

“Wow, you’re really talented, Harry.”

He blushed, looking down at his lap for a moment before looking back up at you again. “Thank you so much. I’m a freelance photographer.”

“Do you plan on leaving Spring to focus solely on photography?” You asked curiously. He softly smiled; he could hear the genuine tone in your voice, and he really appreciated that.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have an appointment, maybe, three or four times a month? But the restaurant brings in more money, especially the tips,” he explained.

You nodded. “Well, for what it’s worth, you’re extremely talented, and one day, you’ll be at the place you want to be. Everything will work out.” Harry smiled in appreciation of your words, not saying anything else.

Taking another bite of his cookie, he changed the subject. “So, do you miss any of your friends in SF?”

You raised your brows, not expecting that question, but you answered honestly. “To tell you the truth, I really don’t. A month before moving here,” you began to open up vulnerably; you hadn’t spoken to anyone about this. “I got out of a long relationship—quite toxic, honestly,” you said, looking at him. He had this look on his face that was so comforting, not a word coming out of his mouth, asking for details; it didn’t tell you that he was nosy or pressing you to tell him more. It simply told you that he was there to listen, whenever you were ready to tell him, and you really appreciated that.

You hadn’t realized how hard it was talking about your past relationship because it had been all bottled up until now. A deep breath came out of your mouth, and Harry immediately realized that it must’ve been a hard subject to speak about. Unexpected to you, he reached over to grab your hand, holding it gently as his thumb caressed your skin. He hoped he masked his nervousness well, making the smallest physical touch with you when, really, his pulse was hammering against his veins, heart pounding through his chest as his breathing began to feel erratic, but outside he remained cool, calm, and collected as if the touch didn’t drive him insane.

You tried not letting Harry’s thumb, caressing the back of your hand, affect your ability to speak a coherent sentence, so you continued. “Uh, my ex was cheating on me with someone in our friend group. He told me not to worry about her, but you know how that goes when you hear that phrase. It was with a girl that I used to date—my first relationship, actually. The worst part of it was when I found out, I took him back when he promised he wouldn’t do it again and claimed that he loved me, and then I took him back again, and again and again.”

Harry inhaled deeply, trying to not let the hand holding yours squeeze tightly so the blood circulation cuts off because he felt angry. He was so mad because how could anyone do that to you? Sweet, kind, and lovely you?

“When I told him I couldn’t handle it anymore—all the lies, cheating, and betrayal—I broke up with him. Our friend group turned against me, completely ignored me. Now that I think about it, I noticed they started to be cold and rude towards me once they started sneaking around, and I have no clue why because I didn’t do anything to them. Guess they were just covering up for them because everyone knew except me, and I just felt so stupid because I was so clueless to think he ever loved me to forgive him so many times.”

You started to sniffle as the bad memories that you lived through for the few months of the betrayal started to come up again. You were doing a good job not thinking about it when you started working at the restaurant, and you didn’t plan on telling Harry tonight, but you trusted him to let go of all the agony that you bottled up inside your mind.

“Hey, come here,” he said, opening his arms up. You gladly rested your head against his shoulders, wishing the middle console wasn’t there so you could press your body against his. He hands rubbed your back just as it did when you first hugged him, and to say that you hadn’t been craving for his touch was a complete lie. “You’re not stupid whatsoever. I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make you stupid. It makes them stupid for betraying your trust and forgiveness over and over again. You’re not in the wrong here nor was it your fault, love.”

You nodded against his shoulder, and you felt him place the side of his face against the top of your head, cuddling up to you, which immediately put a smile on your face. Harry’s comfort had immediately made you feel better—it made you feel safe. You hadn’t felt so comfortable in someone else’s arms in a very long time, and considering that you’ve only known him for a month, you’d say it’s quite unbelievable how comfortable you are in his hold, especially opening up to him like you did.

Pulling back from his hold, you looked up at him, giving him a smile. The weight on your shoulders suddenly felt lighter once you opened the bottle and poured out the contents in it. Talking to Harry was refreshing, a fresh breath of air, and you inhaled the crisp oxygen gratefully, knowing that being vulnerable and opening up had changed your friendship.

It was Sunday evening, and you were cleaning up to prepare for closing. It had been a long day, even though you only worked for four hours; it just seemed that you were running around more than usual.

But you were glad that the day was over, and you could take a long nice shower to end your night. Throughout cleaning, your coworkers had said goodbye, leaving through the back door, which you found odd because everyone usually heads out at the same time, but you didn’t think too much of it.

Once you were done in the dining room, you looked around, finding the restaurant completely empty, but everything seemed to be in order, so you headed over to the locker room.

When you rounded around the counter top and into the kitchen, Harry jumped up from his crouched position, startling you as you took a step back, gasping with your hand over your heart.

“Holy shit, you scared me,” you said breathlessly.

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I thought you still knew I was here.”

“I thought I was completely alone, and hiding behind the counter doesn’t help.” You and Harry laughed. You hadn’t noticed the two plates of food and wine glasses that were filled with sparkling soda sitting next to him on the stainless steel counter, and you wondered for a moment if that was for you and him. “What’s that for?”

“For us, if you’d like. I made it quickly once everything was slow and we were starting to close,” he said shyly, rubbing his tattooed forearm.

Your brows raised, eyes widening slightly. “You made this? For us?”

“Yeah. Today marks one month being here, so I decided to make dinner to celebrate.” You were quite speechless at the thought; it was so incredibly sweet and thoughtful that Harry went through that trouble of making a meal to celebrate a somewhat significant date. Tears started to well up in your eyes, making the man in front of you blurry. “Oh, wait, no. Please don’t cry. You could definitely take this to-go, if you want! I know you’re probably tired, but-”

Harry was cut off by your arms wrapping around his shoulders. He was taken back at first from the impact of your body crashing against his, but once he regained his balance, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly.

Your scent was impeccable—quite alluring for running around for a few hours. He knew he smelled like food, the smoke from garlic and onions sautéing, and vegetables cooking. He buried his head into your shoulder, holding you close. This had been the first time you two were ever hugging outside of the comfort and safety of his car—no middle console to interfere, no awkwardness in trying to figure out how to give a proper hug in a confined space. He enjoyed it a lot—the way your body was pressed up against his. It made him happy, it made him feel safe.

The intimate moment lasted for a few minutes, simply just hugging one another in relief in the kitchen, swaying slightly as complete silence surrounded the two of you.

Once you were satisfied (although you think you would never be satisfied enough if you’re not in his arms), you pulled away, coming face-to-face with him. Your cheeks were slightly damped from the few tears that had fallen out, but weirdly, it gave you a natural and happy glow, and you were feeling exactly that.

“Harry, thank you so much. This is the sweetest and most thoughtful thing someone has ever done for me.” You looked up at him through your wet lashes, warmly smiling at him.

“You’re welcome. Shall we eat?” You nodded, and he unwrapped his arms from around your waist, letting you go, which he wished he hadn’t. He grabbed the two heavy plates that were filled with honey garlic chicken with sautéed spinach and mushroom on a bed of rice, and you grabbed the glasses, reaching over to place them onto the countertop before the two of you walked around to sit on the high stools.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, and you thanked and complimented him for the lovely meal. There was light conversation, asking questions about each other’s childhood. Listening to Harry talk about his life in England was so fascinating to you, and you wished that you had grown up with him because he seemed like such a fun and kind kid to play with. You learned that his sister and mom were back home in London, and they visited every six months, and he would occasionally go back home as well, if the bills weren’t stacking up and he was good with money. His words and mind seemed to get the best of him, slipping out about how much they would love you and that he’ll invite you to lunch whenever they visit to meet them; and he hoped he didn’t freak you out. You simply blushed, nodding your head, and not saying anything else.

The more you talked to him, the more you found yourself staring at him as you listened to what he had to say. You’d come to terms a few weeks ago that you really liked his eyes—how green they were, and how they stare into you, giving you his full attention. You liked his hands, his hair, his nose, his cheeks, and most of all, you liked his lips. You couldn’t blame alcohol for these thoughts because Harry replaced wine with sparkling soda, so these were completely sober thoughts racing your mind. His lips were something you glanced at often, trying not to glare at them too much as he talked as you didn’t want to get caught for admiring them. They were so pink, and he occasionally bit them and curled them into his mouth, making them pinker. You liked when he would take his fingers and pinch his bottom lip, a habit that he seemed to form throughout his life. You suddenly wanted to kiss him—really, really bad.

You shook off the thought immediately, being completely sidetracked with your infatuation with Harry. Was it an infatuation? No, you knew the feelings you felt for him felt much stronger than a simple admiration for your coworker.

Once the talking had died down and the plates were empty, you and Harry decided to clean up. You quickly took both of your plates, beating Harry to the sink to wash the dishes. He chuckled as he watched you fast walk towards the sink; he soon followed with the glasses, placing them carefully into the sink. He decided to dry the dishes, finding the dish rag on your right side. So, he leaned over, placing his left hand on your waist, chest slightly pressed against your back as he grabbed the rag. You turned your head to the right, dropping your shoulder to turn more of your body towards him. He was close and it made you feel flushed; you felt your cheeks heating up once he looked down at you, faces inches away from each other.

You turned back around, quickly placing the last dish on the counter before you turned off the water. Harry was still close in proximity, not making any effort to move away from you. Turning around, your back was now pressed up against the edge of the sink. Harry rested his hands against the edge, trapping you with his arms. Your breath began to deepen, heart beating quite harshly against your chest as Harry looked into your eyes, briefly glancing at your lips, and slowly trailing them back up into your eyes. He brought one hand to graze the side of your face gently, skin prickling with goosebumps.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented honestly.

“Thank you, you are too.”

“I mean it. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Listen, I-I really like you, and we haven’t known each other for long but I just…can’t get enough of you,” You smiled, averting your eyes to his lips before looking back up; your cheeks and neck felt incredibly warm from his confession. Bodily, you placed your hands on his waist, pulling him towards you to close the gap between you two; Harry smirked at your action, liking the way your bodies were pressed up against each other.

“Are you gonna do anything about it?” You raised your brows curiously.

“What would you like me to do?” His hands were rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

“Hmm…a few things actually,” you muttered—more to yourself but Harry definitely heard from how close you two physically were. Your fingertips were mindlessly drawing circles on his lower back where his slightly wrinkled white shirt was tucked into his black jeans.

“Care to share?”

You took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes that captivated you quite clearly. “Want you to kiss me.”

The corner of his lip turned up as he curled his lips into his mouth. “Can I please? Been wanting to for so long.”

“Tell me.” Harry raised his brows. “Tell me how long you’ve been wanting to kiss me.”

He curled his lips into his mouth, looking down at your soft lips before back up at your eyes. “Ever since I saw you for the first time. So, please let me kiss you. Do you want me to?”

Harry quite literally took your breath away, breath stuck in your throat before you cleared it. Nodding your head quite eagerly, you softly said, “Yeah, want you to.”

With that, he trailed his hands from your waist, up your spine, to your shoulders, and up to your face where he placed his hands on both sides, gently holding your face delicately as if it were a piece of art that was crafted for months, years; he didn’t want to drop or break the precious masterpiece that he cradled with his hands.

His thumb caressed your soft cheek, giving your lips one last look before he leaned in and connected your lips with his. You sighed deeply once you felt his soft lips touch yours, and your shoulder visibly relaxed, letting go of everyone that may have held you back.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him in closer. A spark ran through your body as your lips molded together so perfectly in sync, making the firework inside of you pop into a beautiful and magical scene.

Whimpering against his mouth, you suddenly wanted more of him; he was, in all ways, addicting. You unconsciously lifted your right leg, bringing it up to his hip, making Harry press himself against your core, holding your thigh. He started to feel himself harden inside of his pants from the way you’re kissing him, the way your hands gripped his hair, and the way your tongue effortlessly swiveled against his.

You pulled away from his lips quite breathlessly, lips swollen. “Want you.”

“Me too—want you so bad.” He leaned forward to kiss you again, and once he did, you pulled away, only leaving him with a small kiss to his lips. Harry pouted, making you chuckle.

“That was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” you confessed.

Harry smirked. “Well, I’ll be glad to do it again.”

“Wanna get out of here? C-Can we go to yours?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah?” You nodded. “You sure?”

“Absolutely positive.”

Harry gave you a smile and another kiss before he backed away, grabbing your hand to lead you to the locker room where the two of you grabbed your belongings from your lockers. Quickly after, you two were out the door of Spring; Harry locked up, and walked you two over to his car where he, yet again, opened the passenger door for you.

The entire ten minute drive to his apartment, his hand never left yours. It delicately sat on your thigh with your hand on top of his, palm against the back of his hand as your fingers intertwined with his. Harry found it difficult to drive properly because all he ever wanted to do was either kiss you or look at you, and since it was just a bit after midnight, he hit all the green lights, so there was continuous driving and less kissing and looking. But that just made it quicker for him to get to his place.

His apartment was on the second floor, which didn’t take long to get to, but catching up to Harry’s long strides as he practically dragged you up the stairs—no patience to wait for the elevator—was tiring you out.

Once his front door closed, he immediately pushed you up against it, cradling your face in his hands as he kissed you feverishly. You practically could feel him smiling into the kiss, happy to have his lips on yours, and it completely tied your stomach into knots as the familiar flutter you felt in your chest made itself present.

You’d come to realize, in the kitchen, that kissing Harry was everything you ever imagined. His soft lips molding and connecting with yours so perfectly made all of your dreams and realities come true. He just had a way with how he worked his lips as well as where to put his hands. But you were eager to find out what else he could do.

Harry was the one to pull away first, which he even surprised himself with, but he led you to his bedroom, which you were too excited about. He closed his bedroom door, taking your lips in with his again, backing you up against his bed as he gently placed you on top of it, hovering over you.

His lips trailed to your cheek, your jaw, and down to your neck where he lightly nibbled and sucked on your soft skin. You felt him lick your skin, soothing out the small love bite that he left on your skin before he pulled his head from your neck.

“You sure you want to do this? I’d be happy just kissing you.”

You smiled. “I’m sure, wanna touch you. You’re sure too?” You asked consent from him as well, making his cock twitch in his pants.

“Very sure, love. You have no idea.” He sat on his knees as you laid below him, and he’s sure he’s never seen someone look so beautiful as you do; he was completely enthralled by your beauty. “Can I take this off?” He referred to your shirt, playing with the buttons on the front. You nodded, biting your lip.

He leaned his weight on one side of you, placing one arm behind your head as you rested against it. He took your mouth in with his as his other hand began unbuttoning your white shirt, impressively with one hand. Once he got to the bottom, he sat up again, as did you to take off your shirt and your sports bra. You didn’t wear anything sexy to work because you wanted to be comfortable while waiting tables.

Harry looked at your bare torso, licking his lips before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking and licking the pebbled bud before switching to the other. His lips then placed small kisses down your body and to the hem of your pants, where he looked up to see you flushed from just his kisses.

“Harry…” you whined.

“What is it, beautiful?” He smirked.

“Please, take it off.”

“I’m getting there, love, don’t worry.” A breathy chuckle came out of his mouth before he unbuttoned your trousers. Your hips raised off the bed, and he swiftly took them off, leaving you in your nude seamless underwear. “Fuck, you’re so stunning, Y/N, I swear.” You looked at him and smiled; you were clearly at loss for words because of how Harry was looking at you. He wasn’t looking at you with complete admiration, like he was so lost in his daze of his sight. And that thought made you even more aroused.

He gave you another kiss to your stomach before taking off your underwear, situating himself in between your legs, lying on his stomach. Harry looked up once more to find you staring at him, eager to watch what he’s about to do; he placed a kiss to your inner thighs, gently nibbling on your flesh, making you squirm.

“Harry, please. Need to feel you,” you pleaded, brows crinkling.

“Tell me what you need,” he teased, earning an impatient scoff from you, but Harry chuckled at your frustration.

“Need your mouth on me. Please, want you to eat me out already.”

Now, who was he to deny that request? So, that’s what he did—he slowly licked your clit multiple times before licking into your hole, collecting your arousal on his tongue. He used your wetness to lubricate your clit, completely assaulting your sensitive bud. Your back arched as the sensations ran through your body, hands gripping the sheets below you tightly that they practically wrinkled. Harry moaned against your clit, making you buck your hips into his face.

“Fuck, Harry…” you dragged out, throwing your head back into the pillows.

For a few minutes, Harry continued devouring your taste, not stopping until you came all over his mouth and you were completely shocked by his will to not stop until you’ve had your orgasm from his tongue.

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, slowly entering your wet hole as he fingered you. You moaned louder; the tips of his fingers curling up to meet the softness of your upper walls. His unoccupied thumb rubbed your clit in slow circles, something that he noticed you really liked based on your hips thrusting upwards and your hand gripping his hair harder that it felt like you were going to rip out his locks.

“So pretty, love. So wet for me.” The simplicity of his words had made you feel the familiar bubble in your lower stomach, and you wanted to release it so bad.

“Harry, I’m gonna…cum,” you groaned out, biting your lips.

He continued his pace on your clit, but added a tad bit more pressure, causing you to jolt a little. His fingers that were inside of you repeatedly brushed your g-spot, making you close your legs, but Harry pried them open, encouraging you to release.

“C’mon, baby. Want you—need you to cum for me. Can you do that? Can you give me what I want?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, mouth ajar as your voice was hitched in your throat. A few more thrust and rubs from his fingers, and you hit your high, releasing around his long fingers as he slowed his movements, riding out your orgasm while praising you for your peak.

“That’s it. There you go.” One of his hands rubbed your stomach, calming you down while the other hand gently played and cupped your pussy as you unconsciously and slightly thrusted your hips into his hand.

Once you had relaxed, you opened your eyes; Harry was kissing up your body before he kissed your lips so sweetly.

“Hmm, you’re so good at that.” He smiled, kissing your neck as he started to rut his hips on your thigh. You felt his hard on through his pants, and you knew that wasn’t comfortable whatsoever.

“Can I touch you?” You asked. He pulled his head from your neck, facing you as he was about to say it was completely fine if you didn’t, but you spoke up first. “That can’t be comfortable, and I wanna touch you—if you’d let me.” You were looking at him with innocent eyes, even though he knew what you were about to do was going against anything innocent. Plus, the way you were looking at him only made him more aroused.

“Course, let me just get out of these.” He got off the bed, but stayed closed; he was about to unbutton his shirt, but you stopped him quickly, replacing his hands with yours. Harry dropped his arms to his side once your lips were attached to his neck, giving him a small hickey on the underside of his jaw. The feel of just your lips on his skin made him bite his lips as a chill ran through him. You sat on your knees and started unbuttoning his white shirt, and with every button you undid, you gave him a kiss to every bit of his skin that was left exposed until you reached the hem of his pants.

You looked up at him on all fours, and he watched you press another kiss to his tattooed torso. “Mind if I take these off?” You toyed with the hem of his pants.

“No, please, don’t mind at all.” You smiled, looking back at his bulge, which outlined through the fabric of his pants. You palmed him, making him hiss through his teeth. He hadn’t felt another person’s touch in so long, so your lips and touch felt overwhelming in the best way.

You unbuttoned his pants, which he was fast to get out of, leaving him in his black briefs. You positioned yourself to lay flat on your stomach, thankful that Harry’s bed was the perfect height to where you don’t have to strain your neck to suck on him. Kissing down his happy trail, you left a prominent love bite in between his tattooed leaves that were so perfectly inked on his lower abdomen. You then kissed his hard length through his briefs, making Harry breathe heavily. He’s never felt so teased in his life, but you were making it all worth it because nobody had ever made him feel so aroused.

Finally, your fingers gripped the hem of his briefs and tugged them down so his cock could departure from the strained material. He was big, and you knew that from when he was driving to his place earlier as his cock was pushing against his pants, making you excited and eager. But seeing it right in front of you made you salivate.

“Holy shit, you’re so big.” All he did was smirk at your words, knowing that fact quite clearly. You grabbed a hold of him as you held his dick upwards before you licked the underside from base to tip. Harry breathed in through his nose once he felt the smallest bit of contact from your mouth.

Your mouth began to work on his tip, sucking and licking up the precum that had spilled out of his tip before you started to take more and more of him in your mouth. It was Harry’s turn to fill the room with his raspy and deep moan, and the noise he was making was triggering your arousal. Harry had a full view of your mouth on him as well as a great view of your entire backside, not missing the way he noticed how you started to subtly move your hips into the sheets.

As you sucked on him, taking him further into your mouth, Harry dragged his fingers from your shoulders, down your spine, and to your ass that was out in the open with no shame whatsoever. His hands kneaded your flesh before slapping on cheek, which made you moan around him.

“Like that?” He went back to his standing position, leaning back a tad bit to get a good look at you. “Tell me, do you like that?” You looked up at him, making direct eye contact with him as your cheeks hollowed and you sucked hard around him before letting out a ‘mhm.’ Your mouth was working wonders on him while your hand was fondling and playing with his balls, making him throw his head back and accidentally bucking his hips up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck, sorry, baby.” He moved your hair to check up on you, but all you did was place your hands on his ass and pulled him towards you until your nose touched his pubic bone. Harry let out a throaty moan, and your hands pushed and pulled his lower body until he understood what you were doing.

So, he took control, holding your head steady before he slowly started to thrust into your mouth; the tip of his cock brushed against the back of your throat. There was a string of spit that was dangling from your mouth and connecting to his balls—a sight so filthy but helped him get right on the edge.

“I’m gonna cum. Love your mouth so much. So beautiful for me, so perfect.” Harry’s hips began to jerk sloppily, indicating that he was close. With just a few more thrusts into your perfect mouth, he spilled down your throat as he stopped thrusting, keeping you halfway on him. A series of curses and your name came from his lips as he shut his eyes. You took every drop that he offered, trying to swallow every bit of content as best as you could, but some of it had spilled out of your mouth due to how much he overfilled your mouth with his cum.

Harry seemed to be in the middle of calming down from his intense orgasm, so you took the time to clean up. Pulling back, you wiped your mouth and licked your fingers as well as cleaning his cock with your mouth. What you didn’t notice was that Harry was watching you the entire time; he lowered his head, neck straining from looking up too much, and saw you eagerly cleaning and licking every last drop that had fallen from your pretty lips. The sight was enough to make him hard again if he wasn’t too spent.

He collapsed on his bed next to you, his head was next to your ass, to which he pressed a small kiss to your hip in gratitude. You moved to lay your head on his stomach, looking at him and giving him a small smile.

“Come here. What are you looking at me like that for?” He reached out for you, and you moved again, resting your elbow next to his head before giving him a kiss. The kiss didn’t deepen any further, just molding your lips with one another as he tasted himself on your tongue.

“Nothing. You seemed to have enjoyed yourself.”

“Very much did, thank you. Did you? You could be honest with me.”

You giggled. “Honestly…I had a really great time. You made me feel really good. The best I’ve felt in a really long time,” you told him honestly, and Harry smiled at that.

“Do you want to stay the night? I’m always in a cuddly mood after anything sexual—well, I’m always in a cuddly mood, period.” You laughed, nodding your head before kissing his cheek.

“I’d love to. Can I use your restroom, and do you have a spare toothbrush?”

Harry nodded, getting off the bed before leading you to his bathroom where he gave you a toothbrush and some of his face wash. He left you to do your business and told you that he would have a change of clothes.

Once you were done, you walked out of his bathroom, still naked, and was met with Harry in a pair of gray briefs and a change of his clothes in his hands, handing them to you. He gave you a kiss to your forehead before going off to the bathroom and leaving you to change.

You replayed the evening in your mind over and over again as you changed—you really enjoyed his company and him as a person. Harry was a more than nice guy, who seemed to like you for whatever reason, and you liked him too. Maybe a bit too much, and you felt like you liked him more than you projected—dare, you say that you were falling in love. But you couldn’t let yourself feel that way; you were beating yourself up for it. In all honesty, you were scared, so you had a habit of not portraying the entirety of your feelings out on the table so people could perceive it.

Your mind was racing with so many thoughts in your head, repeating and spitting out every insecurity that your previous ‘friends’ had told you in the past—calling you a slut and how you couldn’t keep anyone around because they both ended up cheating on you. Your head was telling you Harry would do the same, and as hard as you were trying to deny that because Harry was the kindest person you’ve ever met, it was all you could hear. You couldn’t do this, no, you couldn’t feel like this, you thought. You felt like you needed to protect yourself before you were in too deep.

Without even knowing, you were frantically grabbing your clothes and shoes that were all thrown across Harry’s floor. Your heart was racing, mind telling you to ‘leave’ and that ‘nobody is going to love you,’ so that’s what you were doing, leaving.

You made it out of his bedroom, so close to the front door until you realized you had forgotten your purse. Turning around to go back, you were met with Harry leaning against the frame of the hallway entry, holding your purse in his hands.

“Not planning on saying goodbye?” His voice sounded defeated, the complete opposite as to what it was prior. He looked down at his feet, not even able to make eye contact with you when he was always keen on making direct eye contact when talking to someone, but seeing you walk out his bedroom door when you were supposed to be waiting for him in his bed to cuddle was heartbreaking.

“Harry…”

“That’s all it was to you, I’m guessing? You know you could’ve said no to staying the night, I would’ve understood. But to say yes after we’ve been intimate, and getting my hopes up? I-I thought you liked me, that’s all, and I’m stupid for falling for it,” he ended with a scoff. He felt extremely vulnerable; he laid his feelings out on the table, let you see his body, and it seemed like you just picked and chose your cards straight from the deck to only have Harry fold.

“No, that’s not it-”

“Then please tell me what it is before I drive myself into the wall thinking what I’ve done wrong!” He raised his voice—not too loud where it startled you, but enough to where he simply let out his frustrations.

“I like you, Harry, I do. But we can’t be together.” You didn’t know how to put it into words, so that was the best you could come up with.

“And why’s that?” He furrowed his brows, walking towards you, but keeping a safe distance. “Give me a good reason why, and I’ll let you go—I’ll leave you alone. We’ll simply be coworkers who don’t talk to each other. I’ll-”

“I’m scared, okay! I’m scared because I cannot fall in love with you, even though I’m already in too deep. I’ve done it once and i-it hurt me.” You were on the verge of bawling, maintaining your emotions. “I-I cannot feel this way so soon—fresh out of a relationship…I’ve only known you for, what? A month? We barely even know each other, Harry-”

“See, now, that’s where you’re wrong. You think I don’t know you, but I bet that you know I know you quite well. Probably more than all of your bitchy friends back home who you’ve known for years.” You stayed silent, not knowing how to respond, but he was right, he did know you better than anyone you knew back in SF. “If I didn’t know you then I wouldn’t know that your favorite thing to eat while you were growing up was chocolate croissants. Your favorite color often switches every few days, but some of them are, and specifically: maroon, evergreen, mustard yellow, burnt orange, and beige. You love watching kids cooking competitions in your free time and often root for the one who is doing miserably and knows who won’t make it to the next round. You’re learning how to bake, which is what you said that you’ve always wanted to learn out to make proper pastries, and based on what you bring to work for us to try, you’re on the right path to being a baker.”

“I’m…” you were at a loss for words, tears lining your eyes. All of the questions and playful conversation you and Harry had during work had come around in his words; it showed that Harry really listened, and when he did, he didn’t forget every detail you’ve told him. Your heart felt like it was in your stomach, making your stomach flutter in giddiness and shock.

“I could go on, honestly, but it would be an entire list of things that I’ve remembered about you.” Harry softly smiled down at his feet. “All I’m saying is this: I like to think I know the basics of you, and I still have a lot to learn about you. But don’t run away from me, please. If you want to and you don’t want anything to do with me, that’s fine, but I can’t let you walk out without trying not to stop you.” He sighed, completely putting himself out there as he was practically begging you to stay. “I really like you, Y/N, I mean it. I don’t care if we’ve only known each other for a month. I don’t care that you just got out of a relationship. I mean if you’re still in love with him or have a bit of interest in him still, then that’s different-”

“I don’t,” you interrupted, shaking your head no. It was the truth; you hadn’t felt love for your ex in a really long time, and you simply stayed with him and kept forgiving him just because it was comfortable.

“Okay…”

“It’s just…I don’t want people to think I’m some kind of person who moves on from relationships so quickly. I-I mean, I didn’t come here just to find myself in another relationship, y’know?” Your tone was concerning, like all of your worries were piling up into one big stack that made your head hurt from thinking too much.

“No one’s gonna think that—I don’t think that. Besides, it isn’t any of their business.” Harry walked even closer to you, inches away as his hands grazed your upper arms. “Let me ask you something, does this feel right? Being with me?” You nodded with no hesitation. “Say it,” he instructed, wanting to hear the words come out of your mouth.

“This feels right.”

Harry smiled at you comfortingly. “Okay, then let it be right.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, looking down. He lifted your chin up with the soft touch of his fingertips, goosebumps littered your skin with just his simple touch.

“Me too, but I’m doing surprisingly well at hiding it. We’ll go slow, okay? No pressure into labeling; let’s just go with the flow, alright?” He suggested, and you softly muttered an ‘okay,’ reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, giving him a warm and grateful hug.

“I’m so sorry-” you said into his shoulder, but he quickly cut you off.

“No need to be sorry, I understand.” His understanding makes you even more soft as you hugged him tighter; a few tears slipped your eyes, streaming down Harry’s shoulder.

After a moment, the two of you pulled away, feeling so much relief from the hug and conversation.

“Is your offer on staying the night still up?” You asked hesitantly.

He smiled. “Yeah, it always is. C’mon.” He took you by the hand, leading you to his room and into his bed—not for the actions of pleasure, but for a nice and comforting cuddle.

You situated yourself on his chest, comfortably trailing your fingers up and down his skin as his arm was wrapped around your shoulder.

Lifting your head up to meet his face, he smiled at you before you gave him a sweet kiss to his lips. It didn’t lead to anything, it didn’t even deepen; just the feel of his soft, pink lips on yours was enough to make you feel bliss.

You pulled away. “Slow?” Harry chuckled, nodding his head.

“Slow.”

Your face warmed up as you smiled, cheeks aching; you positioned yourself back onto his chest for the night, taking up all of his space on the bed when your side was completely empty as you held him close. Even though you’ve only known him for a month, you felt yourself falling; because ultimately, it felt right.

please come into my inbox and tell me your thoughts, feelings, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3

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meruz · 4 years ago

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once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous)

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL.

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close.

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

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levis-coffeecup · 3 years ago

Text

chapter 8| A fight and a Fall

WC-6.6 k

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language.

Author’s Note

I'm a little late, I'm sorry. It's almost 1am in my country and I am technically a day late. I hope I didn't leave anyone waiting coz I know that feeling all too well. But on the brighter side, its valentines day when I'm posting this.

Song for this chapter is It will rain by Bruno Mars.

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

MAY 846

A light breeze ruffles Mae's hair as she sits reading a novel in Levi's office.

His quarters are painted in hues of brown and white. There's a wooden desk that falls right in your sight as you step in. And that's where Mae usually finds him, always scribbling on some sheets, and completing paperwork.

Two big windows are carved on the wall behind the desk so that enough light filters in and he can work easily without straining his eyes. And his desk is neat as expected. All his paperwork is usually stacked on one end of the table and his stationary on another.

Then there's a dustbin in the corner, filled with crumbled pieces of paper.

For some reason Levi takes hours to complete even a few sheets of paperwork. And he's often tossing paper after paper into that bin.

Mae thinks it is because he is insecure about his handwriting. His writing is a little messy. Always filled with lines scratching over words, because the right words come to him a little slower. So he keeps filling sheet after sheet until he finds the one where everything looks perfect.

Her eyes wander around his office. For the most part, it is covered in darkness, except the candle burns on the ottoman in front of her.

And another one flickers from the small kitchen top that is placed against the wall, right opposite to his desk. A few shelves are built over it, and it also has a small place to light a fire, and cook some meals if needed.

On the right, there is a fireplace, to heat the room against the winter winds. And on the left, there is a couch, where Mae is seated. And just behind the couch, is a door that leads to Levi's connected bedroom.

Levi's bedroom is simple. There isn't a single crease on his neatly made bed, placed in the corner, right below a window. A clothing rack filled with his washed clothes is kept in the empty space. There's a plain cupboard with a mirror attached on one side. And that's all there is to it.

Everything is clean and sparkling, and it smells like fresh laundry.

Levi is super busy these days with all his work as a captain, now that his squad has been formed.

So Mae comes to his place instead. He's well-versed with all the basics, and he can manage just well on his own now. But it's not just about tutoring now. She comes to meet him because she likes him, and his company. He makes her happy, very happy.

And in a month's time she's going to work here anyways. She has sent a letter to Mr. Mendes. She has spoken with Erwin, and it's all set. So then why not get acquainted with the place as well.

But that excuse doesn't work really well, because she is always cooped up in Levi's office.

The moon is out and it is late, and as always she's perched on the couch waiting for her friend to finish his meeting so that she can quickly tell him the corrections in his paperwork and head back home.

Levi always makes sure she proofreads it and identifies all the mistakes, and then he fills another sheet once again, with all the corrections she just gave.

Mae always tells him that she can write over his words and correct all his mistakes. That would be so much more quick and efficient. But he never lets her write a single word on his sheet, because apparently her handwriting is so shitty that it is almost pitiful

As if on cue, Levi barges in with a cup of tea and more paperwork in his hands. Speak of the devil. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

"I was waiting for you, just like you told me too?"

"Don't remember telling you to wait for me when the meeting ended 2 fucking hours late, shithead. How the hell are you planning to go back this late?"

"I'll walk."

"You'll walk?" He cocks an eyebrow up, scrutinizing her with scrunched-up eyes.

Her cheeks tinge pink at his intense stare as she averts her eyes elsewhere, thinking about how he is probably seeing all the imperfections in her face. What was he even trying to do? Applying the Pythagoras theorem to her face?

"Wow, you're not even kidding," he deadpans. "Quick tell me if there are any corrections in my paperwork, while I finish my tea, we'll leave in 5 minutes."

"W-we?"

"Yeah, can't let our little shithead roam all alone this late now, can we? She'll end up getting kidnapped and annoying the shit out of the kidnappers until they're out for me." Even though Levi jests, it isn't like the matter in hand isn't serious.

The crime rate has increased so much more since the fall of Maria. Yeah the evacuees are gone, and things are close to normal. But 1/3rd of the land is still lost. Crop is still lost and nothing can make up for it. So the prices are close to what they were before, but they still aren't as low as they used to be.

And a lot of people were pushed to the path of crime during the economic crisis. And now they stay there because they find things easier this way.

It's unsafe to walk out so late, all alone, and so he'll walk her home.

And Mae is so lost in the flutter of her heart, that she doesn't realize that she's walked back late often before. When she used to make trips to her spot in the forest. But things have changed now, and Levi cares for her enough to not let her out to wander alone at night.

"Aww! Levi, you're concerned," she chuckles at how peculiarly he voices his concerns.

"Yeah I am...for the kidnappers. And why the hell are you getting red again" he questions as he pokes her cheek. It's become a common occurrence these days and Levi believes something is genuinely wrong with her. "It's not even cold here, are you sure you're not unwell?"

"N-no I'm alright,... let's get going," she adds quickly changing the subject. A small smile quirks up on her face at his words. And at how lost he is about romance as well.

She picks up the stack of paperwork kept on the ottoman, and goes over Levi's mistakes. Slowly and steadily they are getting lesser, and she is very happy with the progress he's making.

In a matter of minutes Levi has written the corrections down in his notebook, and they walk out of his room, into the hallway.

The hallways are dimly lit by torches that are attached beside every door. Their burning fire heats up the way, and gives the brick walls a golden glow.

It's 11 at night, and the headquarters are quiet. There is not a single person within sight, as the curfew starts at 10. And all the cadets are cooped in their dorms after then.

Levi and Mae walk side by side in silence, crossing room after room as they make their way towards the main gates.

Something rattles in the distance. Levi's attention snaps towards it, and the door to the library opens. Erwin walks out with folder stacked in his hands

His gaze is quick to catch Levi's, and his figure draws closer and closer, as he makes his way towards him.

"You are heading out Levi?" Erwin asks as he nods at him, and then at Mae.

"Taking this tomato home, what else, she had to wait and increase my work just like you guys."

"Tomato?"

"Yeah Mae, who else, lord knows what types of illnesses she catches."

Mae stares wide-eyed at Levi as the words leave his mouth. And she is sure that all shades of red ever known to man are all visible on her face. Walls! This is so embarrassing.

"L-Levi stop it," she stutters in a hushed tone. Fingers tugging at his sleeve for his attention.

Erwin studies Mae's stiff figure. Her face is beet red, and she tries to cower behind Levi's slender frame.

"What a horrible illness you have caught Mae!" he jokes as realization finally dawns upon him. "Do notify me of any further implications, please," and with that, a hearty laugh escapes his lips as he waves them goodbye and walks away.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's another day, another night and just like always Levi and Mae walk along the barren street and the flickering street lamps.

It has become a habit by now. Whenever she comes over to his place, she purposely stays until it's late, so that he walks her back, and she gets to spend more time with him. In her opinion, it's also a well deserved break that Levi needs, because god knows that man is a workaholic.

And he hardly takes any time out for himself.

And the town seems so serene at this time, there are hardly any people in sight. Everything is so quiet and it feels like they are the only ones living in the entire world.

Levi is a step ahead of Mae, eyes focused somewhere in the distance. And the both of them walk in silence. Listening to the sound of the crickets and the occasional wind.

"Mr. Mendes wrote back to me this time." Mae speaks out after a while.

Levi's gaze shifts, and he stops and swivels towards her.

"They are coming back in a month, exactly at the time when I was planning to leave."

"So.. are you planning to continue working at the clinic?" Levi quirks a brow, curious of what her answer will be.

"No... nothings going to stop me from leaving the clinic." Mae speaks with determination in her voice, but then she sighs, a little exhausted. " It's been more than a year and the only time he responds is when I write about leaving his damned clinic... My life feels like such a joke sometimes, I think god himself is trolling me..." .

Levi remains silent. Keeps the space open if she wants to add something else as well. And in a few seconds she voices her thoughts out loud. "I just think it's suspicious. It can't be that he decided to read one letter and that turned out to be the one where I wrote about working somewhere else. It's too much of a coincidence. I think he read all my letters but for some reason he didn't reply back to them..."

"Does it still bother you that he just left and you started ignoring you all of a sudden?"

There were days when she missed him so miserably, she would feel abandoned and lonely. But ever since she has started spending more time with Levi, the void caused by Mr. Mendes's absence has faded away. And Mae can't help but smile as she says, "it doesn't bother me a lot anymore."

Levi hums and a comfortable silence settles again. Their footsteps fall into perfect sync. Minute by minute their time together, tonight comes to an end, as the distance to her house reduces. And Mae savors the moments that she has with them.

And she doesn't notice Levi's steps get slower, his presence getting closer, until his hand grabs hers. "Levi?" She jolts out a little loud.

"Ssh, someone is following us," he whispers in return.

Mae can't hear any sounds or clues to confirm his suspicions, but Levi has always been very alert and sensitive to minute changes in the environment, and for something like this he can be undeniably trusted.

What is to be done is understood, they have to make the pursuers believe that they aren't yet aware of their presence.

So without turning her head back, she gives him a smile and continues to walk ahead.

But what she doesn't understand is that her dear student Levi isn't really planning to act and sneak her to her house. No, he is planning to confront the pursuers, as soon as they reach the upcoming crossroad.

With not many houses around there, it is the perfect location to beat them to a pulp.

Levi's hold tightens on her hand and Mae the feeling of security engulfs her whole being. The crossroad looks bigger and bigger as they walk towards it. And it's just a 15 minute walk to her home now and she hopes everything will be alright till then.

But Levi halts. Hand still holding hers in a gentle grip and body as calm as always. As if there is no one following after them.

And then he takes a 180 and turns around. Tucking her behind his frame as his eyes scan through the area.

"Oi! You shits can come out now," he yells out. And Mae can only stand frozen in shock as five bulky men walk out of the darkness. A wicked grin adorns their face, and a chill runs up her spine, as they step closer and closer towards them.

"Levi, what the fuck?" She whispers meekly.

He doesn't respond and his eyes remain focused straight ahead.

"Levi?" She clutches his upper arm with her free hand and tugs it in desperation, begging him to move so that they can run away.

"Levi." It isn't a whisper this time and her actions get frantic.

But Levi stands straight, unbothered by her ministrations. He doesn't budge an inch. He just stands calmly observing the men in front of him.

Mae watches them too, as stride forward. They are huge, and their build is brawny. Their biceps bulge out of the sleeves of their shirt, and she is sure their arms are big enough to cover her entire face, if flexed.

And then she looks at Levi who stands in front of them, with unwavering confidence. She doesn't know what he is thinking, but she knows that these men will break him into two, in a matter of minutes.

The men stop at a distance and Levi lets go of Mae's hand as he says, "Mae run, go straight to your house, I'll be there in a while."

But, Mae stands still, as she stares at Levi in shock "WHAT! Are you kidding me?"

There is a twitch in her leg, and a part of her is begging to run away. Her hands tremor with fear and she tries her best to not let the conflict in her mind show in her voice "LEVI ARE YOU BLIND! There are 6 men and all of them are at least a foot taller than you... You'll get your ass handed to you, how the hell are you going to escape from a situation like this."

Her jitters obviously don't go unnoticed by Levi. And even though his steady grip doesn't hold her back anymore, her concern for him does.

"Maybe you should listen to your darling and give up, we don't mean to harm you after all shortie. Just give us all the money you have in your wallet... and your little darling. She'll fetch us some good money in the market," the man in the center snickers, as he looks at Levi menacingly.

Mae's mouth runs dry as she hears those words. They want to sell her. And if Levi loses, which he probably will, then she will lose two of the most important things in her life. Him and her freedom.

Levi taps his feet, as his patience wears thin. Time is ticking, and any moment the men in front of him can charge his way, and start attacking him and Mae.

He looks at her through the corner of his eye. She is shivering and every ounce of dread that is running through her mind is clearly visible on her face. Yet she stands beside him, unwilling to back off and leave this place.

He clicks his tongue in frustration. Just if this woman could listen to him and go, he would get over with this in an instant.

"Oi" Levi waves his hand in front of her eyes. "You literally look like you just pissed your pants, so go RUN. I'll fight them off."

But his words fall on deaf ears, and it only leaves him more agitated. "Mae, you're useless in combat... just go away," he seethes through his teeth.

Mae's eyebrows contort into one of disgust. He is taking this situation very lightly, and now is not the time to be cocky and impractical. "You're a little stupid and overconfident Levi, but I'm not leaving you here alone to get beaten and robbed... So you don't need to act all cool and heroic... I'm staying, we'll figure out something together." Her voice cracks a little at the end, and tears well up in her eyes as she looks at her surroundings.

There are 5 men around them, and they are bound to gang up against Levi. And even though she is useless in combat, she will not leave him in so much danger.

She knows that Levi doesn't have much money on him, and if she escapes then they will have no leverage. The men will lose even if they win the fight, and she doesn't want to imagine the horrible things they'll do to Levi then.

Her hold on Levi's upper arm loosens, and her trembling body slowly lumbers forward until it is shielding him, hands raised up in surrender.

The men stand dauntingly in a semicircle in front of Mae. She gulps, but her resolve is strong. And there is no way she'll let Levi fight these guys and get his body mangled into pieces.

"You run faster than me Levi, I- I'll go with them, and buy you some time. You escape and get help from the military police... They want to sell me, so they won't harm me, physically at least... They'll want me... in a good condition."

"That's the worst fucking plan I've ever heard." Levi scoffs in response, and he yanks her back to the spot beside him.

"I AM NOT LEAVING YOU HERE TO FIGHT ALONE, OKAY. JUST SHUT UP, I'M TRYING TO THINK." She yells out, voice teetering close to an order..

"Sorry lovelies, we ain't got the time for all this," the leader snickers, clearly enjoying all that's happening in front of him. And then he points his finger at one of his cronies, and gestures to him to move forward.

Haughtily one walks out, stretching his bulky arms as he walks towards the short pair.

"Mae run, MAE RUN," Levi booms. Hastily placing his hand on her head, and making her bow down with him as he evades the punch that the man throws.

Swiftly, Levi swiftly grips the goon's wrist and twists it with all his might. The sound of a bone breaking pierces through. The goon loses himself in the moment of pain, and Levi turns around and yells at Mae in his most commanding voice, "MAE GO."

His tone is dripping with frustration. He doesn't understand why she can't just listen to him and leave him alone. And with her lack of experience in combat she'll get them both in trouble.

He turns his head around and looks at her. His jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed. And then his furious eyes meet Mae's teary ones. They are watery, brimming with fear and... concern, so much concern.

She's clutching onto his arm tightly, and nodding her head left and right, telling him that she is not going to leave him . One jerk and he can yank her off him.

A mellow expression takes over Levi's face. He releases the breath he has been holding since long, and he gives her a nod of reassurance. "I'll be fine, just trust me and go."

Mae watches as the goon yelps in pain, trying to get his wrist off Levi's iron grip. He uses his other hand in the process too, but Levi still remains so calm and stiff. His body doesn't even budge an inch. And nor does his gaze shift from hers.

But this is just one man, how will Levi ever be able to take down 4 more like him.

Watching their comrade suffer, the leader tells two others to help him. And Levi's eyes widen as he catches the sound of their footsteps threading closer, and closer.

"Mae, have faith in me, I'll come back alright... just go. I'm going to fight them, and you will only cause me more hassle if you stay here" His eyes are unwavering and he speaks with so much resolve, that a part of her mind is convinced that he'll be alright.

Her hands around his bicep loosens and she gave his hand a tight squeeze with her trembling hands. She doesn't know if he'll win this fight, but she does know that if he plans to fight, then she'll only be deadweight.

"Y-you promise me you'll come back alright," her voice breaks and her eyes glow fresh with tears.

Levi looks forward, gaze sharp at the men who cautiously step towards him, "I promise."

"I'm s-sorry" she stammers as she throws him one last remorseful look. And then she runs, runs without throwing a glance back because she knows that if she sees even a glimpse of Levi getting beaten up, her will would crumble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Drenched in sweat, Mae rests her hand on a wall and takes a break, to steady her breaths.

She can feel the cool beads of sweat that stream down her face. Her breaths are quick and heavy. And her heart burns in the worst way possible. It feels like it will fall out of her chest anytime now.

She wipes the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand and surveys the scene in front of her. 3 men have fallen flat on the ground and two are still fighting with Levi, attacking him at the same time.

Her heart beats frantically, both due to exhaustion and fear, and she hopes that she's here in good time.

Taking a steady form, she charges towards the goon who has his back towards her. And then she hits him with all the force she could. With a pan, right on his head.

Already fatigued and fully engaged in his fight with Levi, the man immediately drops unconscious. Both the other combatants look at her and on instinct Levi, grasps both the hands of his opponent, lest he attempts to target Mae instead.

Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment. Levi seems to be doing pretty well, but without putting much thought into it she quickly makes her way to the other men laying on the floor. Beating their head with the pan a few more times, and then checking their pulse and their eye.

Shortly, the leader falls to the ground, many of his bones broken and parts swollen. "Pl-please join us, yo-you'll have the highest pay," he chokes out as he looks at the short man with pleading eyes.

"Tch," Levi puts his shoe on his face, not even bothering to answer as his eyes fall on Mae, examining whatever weird shit she's doing. She's hitting the unconscious men with a pan on their head. And then flipping them over to check their eye and pulse?

With a final kick on the leader's face, Levi walks towards her, "Oi, what the hell are you doing?"

Mae's head turns towards Levi instantly, and tears prick her eyes as she spots the big patch of blood-staining his shirt.

"Levi", she gasps. The pan in her hand drops and clatters against the road as she races ahead..

In a breath she's in front of him. Hands reaching out, towards the red stain and fingers hastily unbuttoning his shirt.

Levi's eyes widen, eyebrows scrunching up as he looks at her in disgust. Instinctively he pushes her away, almost yelling in her face, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"Levi, you're wounded," she whimpers as her hands reach out towards his crimson shirt once again.

But he swats them away in an instant. Uncomfortable at the thought of being undressed by someone. His hardened gaze flits towards hers- to tell her to stop this bullshit, but when he looks at her face, it is so full of hurt and shame.

Her back slouches as she looks to her feet, fiddling with her fingers as even more tears fall from her eyes. This is all her fault, she shouldn't have left him all alone. He is injured because he was accompanying her and she stayed up late at his office. "I'm sorry," she speaks in a timid voice.

Great! Now all he feels is regret. Levi lets out an annoyed sigh as he unbuttons his shirt," It's not my blood, look, I'm alright, not even a scratch or anything," he calmly states, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

Slowly her eyes look up at his toned chest, only to find some blood smeared on it. "C-can I see knuckles?"

And Levi compliantly follows, not wanting to upset her anymore.

Satisfied with her inspection, Mae quietly gasps "you're a- alright."

Her eyes meet with his for a fleeting moment before they look down again, but Levi doesn't miss her bloodshot eyes, still moist from all the crying. He doesn't miss the glossy rivulets of sweat that deluge her droopy eyes and reddened face.

His gaze darts downwards as he takes in her tousled state and wilted frame. Her knuckles now pale, tightly clutching the sides of her dress which is splattered in dust, even ripped at a few places. There is a knife, in her waistband, and he has no idea where she got it from

And she even has a fresh bruise on her forehead.

Tch, what a mess. Why the hell did she come back when he clearly told her not to?

"You're injured," he plainly states.

The threat is over, and the stillness brings forth the searing ache that throbs in Mae's knee. The bruise peeks through the rip in her dress. And lifting its hem, she stares at the wound.

Pebbles stick to her skin, buried in the edges of the cut. And dirt coats the hot blood that trails down her knee. It hurts like a bitch.

"I am", she affirms to herself, "I fell when I was running."

Levi's hand slides down his pocket, and he pulls out a handkerchief. "Here take this."

Instantaneously, Mae takes the napkin and presses it on her injured knee. The dirt gathered in her cuticles doesn't go unnoticed, and her movements hesitate as vicious thoughts fill her head.

Here she is a damsel in distress, and then there is Levi, who fought all the thugs and is still calm and collected.

And now they are wasting time on a cut that her clumsy self got and he just waits.

Her movements hasten as she rubs her knee roughly, trying to get the dried blood and debris off the cut on her knee.

Levi sighs as he looks at her frantically cleaning the blood on her knee. She is a mess, both emotionally and physically.

"You're causing more damage," his voice is soft and Mae's eyes widen as Levi kneels down in front of her.

Levi takes the napkin from her hands, and her body shudders as she feels his warm hand wrap around the back of her knee. The fingers of his other hand are covered in the napkin. Wiping the blood that trails down her knee, as they slowly reach upward towards her injury.

Gently touches wanders over her wound, removing the pebbles stuck on her skin. She bites the insides of her cheek in an attempt to not let any pained sound from vocalizing.

After a minute, the pain fades away. And a soft fabric wraps around her knee. Levi's hands tie a knot at the back to hold the napkin in place, like a bandage. And his warm gesture makes the butterflies Mae's stomach dance in bliss .

"Do I have to do everything for you... you are a doctor aren't you?" The moonlight catches his silver orbs, as he looks up at her. His hand is still lingering on the bandage. And the sweat coating his face makes his skin glow.

Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

And here she is smeared with dust and blood, a complete mess. Her dress is filthy and her hair is knotted. She is sure she looks ugly. Embarrassment floods her mind once again.

"Does it hurt?" Levi asks as he sees the gloomy expression that flashes on her face again.

Mae gulps. As it is she has wasted enough of his time, by making him walk her home. And now she even got her stupid self injured.

"No... let's get going," she affirms confidently, as she turns away from him, and makes her way towards the pan that lays next to the bodies of the unconscious men.

But Levi doesn't miss the limp in her step as she ambles ahead.

Liar.

"It doesn't? Okay catch up with me then," Levi jogs ahead of her. And once he has a lead, he turns around and watches her trying to hobble his way. Determination is plastered on her face, and her pace increases when she sees the way Levi tauntingly stands.

He sighs, his expression softening at the woman in front of him.

He's looking at a woman, who always prioritizes keeping safe, rather than taking a risk and getting yourself killed. He's looking at a woman who is practical and self-aware of her own weaknesses. Who makes decisions in accordance to her abilities.

And he doesn't understand why she came back, when he clearly told her not to. It would have made the whole task a whole lot easier. It isn't like her to act so irrationally.

In her haste, Mae continues rushing ahead. Midway, her face winces in pain, and a small gasp escapes her mouth. The white napkin on her knee is now splotched in blood again. And for a fleeting moment Levi sees the despondency that flashes on her face

It's only then that he realizes that this woman who told him to stick to Miche, and not risk his life, was ready to lose hers, knowing that she was absolutely powerless in comparison to him. She was ready to fight these men who were a foot and a few inches taller than her, when she knew she couldn't even hurt a fly.

And even though a part of him wants to lecture her for acting so out of nature and irrationally this time, a part of him just feels so ... cherished, so valued.

Warmth spreads in his chest, as he looks at her defeated form. Her eyebrows are pinched together, and she frowns as she looks at him. But still she continues to limp towards him, at her own slow pace. Ignoring the ache in her leg.

He walks towards her, and her gaze falls down to the ground.

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn? Hmm?... You are a doctor, don't you know what's best for you?

She gulps heavily, and then mutters, "sorry."

Levi stares down at her, gaze dawdling on her eyes, before it flits down to her wounded knee. It's bleeding even more, and he doesn't know how she's planning to walk all the way home now.

He turns around, so that his back faces her. And then he squats down. "I'll carry you home."

Mae's cheeks heat up at the suggestion. And even though she wants to jump at the opportunity of being so close to Levi, hesitation lingers in her mind as well.

The food shortage is over, and she has snacked on all the types of dishes that she had missed for an entire year. And now she feels a little anxious about the extra pounds that she has gained.

And right now, she is filthy as well. "Are you sure? I mean- I can walk it not like--"

"Shut up." Levi sneers as he throws her a sideward glance. And Mae can feel his eyes burning holes through her skin. She swallows thickly, and takes a step closer to him.

Placing her hands on his sturdy shoulders, she puts her legs through his looped arms. And as her chest presses to his back, she feels how muscular he is. Every part of his body is hard and toned, lean muscle.

He stands up, in a swift motion. With no support or even a stumble. And she can't help but be a little astonished at how strong he is.

He doesn't look that strong, his body is lean, not brawny like most men, who take pride in their strength.

"Am I too heavy? You can drop me if you get tired." Levi sighs but he doesn't miss the concern in Mae's voice.

"Why are you always underestimating my strength?"

"Levi you are a short, skinny man, and you just beat up 5 men... you must be tired."

"And you are a tiny ass woman, as if lifting you isn't a piece of cake."

Mae sighs, and wraps her arms around Levi's neck. "You just aren't realistic when it comes to your strength."

Levi stares ahead, at the path he needs to take. Unconscious bodies are scattered around and he knows he has injured them enough that they won't wake up until next afternoon. And by then they'll already be arrested.

His eyes fall on the metal pan that shines silver in the moonlight. And he remembers how Mae was beating the heads of these already unconscious men, and then checking their pulse and eye.

"Should I carry this...weapon along? Or are we planning to forget it? He teases, as he walks towards it.

"Carry it." She mutters as she rests her chin a little above his clavicle.

"What were you even doing with this?"

"I was checking if those men are unconscious, what if they are just pretending to be unconscious and throw mud in your eyes later? I mean I would definitely try some trick like that... because obviously I don't have the strength or technique to go off without a ruse or a backup plan..." Her voice trails off. "I-I also got a knife for you... I thought it might help... It's a kitchen knife though. I went around knocking at the near buy houses, and asked them for help. They gave me whatever they could."

Levi can feel the mumble of her words against his skin. He can feel her heart beat rapidly against his back. And her warm breaths that softly graze the side of his face.

And he is so used to fighting for himself and for his survival, that this surprising behavior of hers is evoking emotions he has never experienced before. A pleasant sensation surges through his chest and his mood lightens, from the irksome fight he just had.

The world around him feels a little brighter, and a fuzzy feeling makes his heart flutter as her words echo in his head-

"I'm not leaving you here alone to get beaten and robbed."

"You don't need to act all cool and heroic... I'm staying, we'll figure out something together."

"I am not leaving you here, okay, just shut up, I'm trying to think."

He remembers the night when he first saw the stars with Isabel and Furlan.

They were nagging him about going on the expedition as well. They told him that they were together in this too, just like they had been in the underground, and he recalled how happy it made him... That was the first time someone told him they were with him.

And, this is the second.

Levi's gaze falls down to her feet that sway with every step he takes. And he internally chuckles at her weird antics.

This stupid shithead who shivered like she had just seen a titan at the sight of intimidating-looking weak asses. Also came back for him, with a pan and a knife, just 5 minutes after he'd told her to go home.

A small smile creeps up on his face, and his heart dances with joy at the selfless concern she has for him. After more than a year and a half of losing Farlan and Isabel, he finally feels wanted. Not just for his exceptional strength, but for the grumpy, awkward man that he is.

He has figured it out, his emotions. He is feeling happy because he feels looked after. The last two years have been so full of loneliness, since his friends had died. But now, after so long does he finally see a glimmer of hope... or it can just be because of how stupid she is sometimes, it almost funny.

'You are stupid and cocky, don't go up against 6 men taller than you.'........my ass.

Yeah, to be honest, he hasn't completely figured out that fuzzy feeling yet, but that isn't really bothering him at the moment. For once his mind doesn't feel tormented by his past or the future. And he just relishes in the cool night, the warmth of her skin and the exhilaration that overwhelms his body today.

Mae's head perks up as Levi enters the familiar lane where her house is situated.

She glances at the door longingly. It looks bigger and bigger as Levi walks towards it. And oh! how badly she just wants to hide in there and never come out because of her embarrassment.

In no time, Levi is right in front of it, squatting down again, and she quickly gets off his back.

"Thank you Levi," Mae mumbles, as she walks towards the door, without throwing him a glance or showing him her face. And Levi knows the usually high-spirited girl isn't back by how low her voice sounds.

She never bids him off like that. There's always a smile on her face, as she waves her hand with enthusiasm. And she doesn't step inside her house again, until she sees his figure retreating away, fading behind the house at the end of the street.

His hand reaches forward and latches on to hers. Fingers wrapping around her wrist. They are strong yet gentle, and they don't let her move any further.

She turns around at the gesture. But her head is still bowing down, and Levi doesn't know why she won't look at him.

He wants her to look at him. He wants to see her smile before he walks back to the headquarters.

"Oi you okay?" His hand still lingers on her wrist, and then slowly it roves down her skin. Fingers sliding down her knuckles, to the white ends of her nails.

But Mae's gaze is still fixed on the floor, and she just slightly nods her head, up and down. Conveying a yes.

Obviously, Levi doesn't buy it. Gingerly, he places his thumb under her chin, and lifts her head upwards.

Her eyes are glossy, sparkling with unshed tears. And her nose is still red and puffy. Warmth fills his chest again, as he looks at her face. And Levi knows he's bad with communication, but he thinks he will explode if he doesn't get this feeling out of his system.

"Thank you, for staying by my side and coming back for me." He speaks softly. And even in the quiet night, his voice is low, just loud enough for her to hear. Because the words are only meant for her ears.

"You don't t-think I just messed everything up a-and caused you more trouble?" she stumbles over her words, and insecurity floods her again.

The corners of his lips twitch upwards into a curve. And in an instant he looks ten times younger. A small crinkle forms below his right eye. And Mae stands frozen at the beautiful sight in front of her.

Levi is smiling and it is absolutely heart-stopping. And she holds in a breath as she realizes this is the first time she has ever seen him smile.

She can't help the faint curve of her own lips, as she looks at him. He's smiling at her, and that itself makes her so happy.

"No, you did well," he pats her head, and she relishes in his touch.

A small sparkle flickers in her eyes, and her smile widens. He doesn't think she's irritating and burdensome, he doesn't think she's stupid and useless, and that's all the reassurance she ever needs.

No words are exchanged, but it's a beautiful moment. Filled with genuine smiles and warm gestures.

The moon gleams in the dark, its silver hue present everywhere. Levi's heart runs at a 100 miles per hour and he blames it on the sudden adrenaline rush during the fight.

Mae smiles in front of him and he never thought that he had the power to make anyone so happy. After all his hands have only spread terror and pain, wherever her went.

And as Levi looks at her elated face, he realizes he hasn't been this happy in a long time as well.

Author's note:

ITS FINALLY HAPPENING! (The fall in the chapter title is related to Levi not Mae.)

This was one of the first chapters I wrote for this fic.

I started writing the story in feb last year, and those days I would write and publish 700 word chapters everyday on wattpad. Obviously I was trying but the writing was pretty shitty. Then I decided to unpublish it and just have the entire story planned out before I start publishing the chapters.

The plot became clear in my head, and then I would write chapters randomly depending on my mood because I knew what was happening in each chapter. So this was actually the first chapter that I wrote and LIKED. I saw an improvement in my writing, but yet back then it was only at 1500 words and left incomplete.

And obviously I edited quite a lot of stuff when I added in more details during winter last year. Now its at 6.6 k lol.

I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is obviously very appreciated. If anyone at any point feels disappointed with something, I'd like to know about that as well. Because I like listening to different opinions.

Thank you for reading! See you next Sunday.

Taglist: @keijikunn

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part One

The beginning of the end is this: Ahsoka removes Rex’s chip and finds her masters, starts to run, and loses her life before they make it to safety.

(She is the chink in all their armors.)

The beginning of the end is this: Anakin does not Fall, is there as his children are born, and sobs himself to pieces as his wife still dies for reasons none can find.

(Darkness would not have saved her, and the Light was already shattered.)

The beginning of the end is this: Obi-Wan mends his relationship with Anakin just in time to stay behind and guard the escape of what is left of his family.

(Obi-Wan would never have forgiven himself if he hadn’t, and Anakin will never forgive his Master’s memory for sacrificing himself.)

The beginning of the end is this: Their path to safety passes through Malachor.

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

The house is small and dusty, but empty and uninfested.

Anakin is used to worse. Rex is used to worse. The twins can barely see six inches beyond their faces, and do not know any better.

“Do you think they take Republic credits?” Rex asks. They still don’t know what planet they’re even on.

Anakin shrugs. There’s no life to him, even with his daughter in his arms, and his son at his side.

“I’ll pawn a blaster if I have to,” Rex decides. He wraps the bottom half of his face in a scarf, and prays that the blond hair and civilian clothing are enough that nobody will look too close for the eyes of a clone.

Anakin shrugs again. They need food for the newborns, who can’t survive on packed rations and hunted game. There’s only so much formula on the ship they took, and it won’t last the week.

(He is not the only person to lose everything in the last three days, but Rex is more practiced at compartmentalizing.)

(There’s more to it, from the Force letting Anakin feel the deaths of those he loves to the extremely personal betrayal that was Chancellor Palpatine’s reveal as a Sith, but when it comes down to the basics, he knows this: Anakin is broken now, and Rex can hold his own widening fissures together a little longer.)

“I’ll be back soon,” Rex promises, and lets the slow blink and half a nod be his general’s response.

The village isn’t very large. It’s not wealthy, but it seems largely untouched by the war. Nobody looks at him for more than a moment, and he thanks the tweaking of his genetic line for the hair that lets him hide just a little more. There aren’t any rumors catching his ear; he only parses about half of what’s being said. They’re in Mando space, and the words flying about are largely Basic and Mando’a, in a dialect he only mostly understands, and sprinkled with what he thinks is Huttese and Bocce. Still, nobody’s passing hushed gossip about the Jedi turning traitor, or the Republic becoming an Empire. Nobody mentions the Separatists or the war.

Rex feels a mix of rising anxiety and loosening fear. People won’t be looking for them yet, not here, but something is wrong for there to be so little hint of the wider conflict. He’s no scout, but he didn’t make Captain--or Commander, for that it lasted only the length of that final, ill-fated battle on Mandalore--by being as unobservant as a fresh cadet.

He finds himself standing in a store specializing in childcare supplies, staring at a shelf of some twenty different kinds of formula.

“You need some help, stranger?”

He glances at the woman out of the corner of his eye, notes down the degree of danger--minimal, even if he’s not in his armor--and decides it’s not too much information. “My friend, his wife died in childbirth, just a day ago. The children need to eat, but...”

Her face turns into a grimace of sympathy. “You don’t know what’s best. Did the midwife not suggest anything?”

A midwife. They really are in the middle of nowhere. “The birth was... they only had a med droid. No professionals.”

He doesn’t elaborate, hopes she’ll just drop it, and she does. She turns to the shelves, eyes them for a long moment, and then picks out three different boxes.

“Here, try these and see which one the baby likes best. They’re what I’d suggest for newborns. Should be easy to make with some hot water. I’m guessing you have bottles already--”

“No,” Rex says, and then scrambles to explain in a way that doesn’t make it clear just how unprepared they all are. “Not enough. It was twins, and nobody expected it.”

“Did she not--”

“Please don’t,” Rex says, desperate already. “It’s been a long few days, and it’s not my story to tell.”

She nods, a tad too slow, but he hopes it’s just concern.

Bottles and pacifiers, diapers and towels, just enough to tide them by with the excuse of buying for the unexpected extra child instead of the truth of having gone on the run the second the twins had been born.

Rex sees the face the woman makes when he goes to pay. His heart sinks.

“I’m... we don’t usually take Republic credits here, you understand,” she says slowly. “But you’re in a bad spot, and I don’t want the babes to suffer. See about visiting the exchange office soon, though.”

He could almost cry. He doesn’t. It’s a near thing.

“Thank you,” he says instead, as emphatically as he can. “Thank you so much.”

She smiles faintly, tightly, uncomfortably. “If I could make one more suggestion?”

He nods.

“There’s... there’s a nurse that runs a clinic down the way,” she says slowly. “She can look over the children, for one thing, but she can also... well, there’s a medication we can sell, to single fathers and the like, but only with a prescription...”

He blinks at her, uncomprehending.

“It induces lactation in those who otherwise wouldn’t,” she says, and bares her teeth in something that isn’t quite a smile. “Not the most popular option, but it’s technically on the table for anyone with breast tissue, and breast milk is usually healthier overall for babies than formula, for most species. Um, it’s popular with adoptive mothers, wet nurses, same-sex couples, single fathers in a situation like your friend’s... tell me if I should stop talking.”

“No, no, I think that he’d actually appreciate that,” Rex hurries to assure her. “I can at least bring it up, and we’ll need to have regular medical attention for the twins anyway, so I need the address, don’t I?”

Her smile brightens into something a little more real, and she scribbles something down on some flimsi. “Here, just give this to your friend. Come here and ask for Teskarim if you have questions; that’s me.”

He commits the name in memory, dips his head in a nod of thanks, and makes his way for the door.

The trip back to the house is, by and large, uneventful. There are still no rumors. There are still no chip-loyal brothers. There are still no bounty posters, or--

His eyes dart back to the bounty board, just for a second. There’s a face on there that shouldn’t be. He doesn’t linger; it’s bad form, suspicious. Instead, he heads for the newsstand a few stalls down, pauses just long enough to get the date, and strikes out for the little house and their ship without changing his stride. Externally, he looks entirely normal.

His mind is in a daze.

3,594 ATC

The year is 3,594.

He hasn’t been born yet.

He does the math.

His General hasn’t been born yet.

Sith Hells, High General Kenobi hasn’t been born yet.

Rex is...

He has to talk to Anakin.

#Rexwalker #Captain Rex #Anakin Skywalker #Skywalker Twins #time travel #star wars #phoenix posts #this may or may not get continued but I wanted to at least get the idea down #Rex and Anakin Raise a Family #death tw #grief tw #depression tw #ptsd tw #childbirth mention #lactation mention #male lactation #I feel like the lactation thing is probably out of left field for some people but Meh #I want Anakin to go hard on parenting

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Note

hello, i love your writing and was hoping if u could write a yandere kuroo x reader where he corners her in a corner and kenma is there and is getting off from it 😳 thank u !

Asdfghjkl this was supposed to be posted on Sunday I’m sorry, bby!! I hope it’s worth the wait! 💕 also, loved this request so thanks for sending it in 😊

Kuroo Tetsuro x Female Reader, Kenma Kozume x Female Reader

TW dub con, coercion (kinda?), stalking, humiliation

Helping Hand

There’s a certain peace you find in the looming stacks of the library after the sun sets. It’s quieter then, less people milling about. You don’t have to fight for space or books, and considering you have midterms soon and essays coming out of your ears, that makes it the perfect study environment.

It’s only a little after eight, the library’s still open for another two and a half hours, but on the fourth floor it’s almost a ghost town - just how you like it. There’s a professor tucked away in the back corner, piles of books built up around him, an older librarian with her trolley, slowly re-shelving books, and two other guys around your age sitting huddled at a table a few down from yours - the textbooks and highlights spread across their desk having been long since abandoned in favour of literally anything else.

Honestly, you’d wonder why they’d bother coming to the library at all if it wasn’t an almost daily occurrence. Most days you were there, so were they - usually together, although it wasn’t uncommon to see just one of them camped out between the stacks as you made your way to your desk. The duo, one tall and lean with a shock of messy dark hair that always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and the other smaller, more reserved, with bleached hair and dark roots in serious need of a touch up, seemed to prefer this time to study too - not that they ever seemed to actually do all that much studying.

Usually the blonde ends up absorbed in his switch while the other casually thumbs through whichever book is closest.

So long as they were quiet and didn’t disturb you, who were you to judge?

You don’t really remember when they’d started to appear, only that they’d quickly become a fixture in your refuge - distantly familiar presences like strangers travelling on the same bus to work each day. They smile (well, the dark haired one does) and nod whenever you happen to look up from your notes and catch their eye, and while you’ve only spoken a handful of words to the both of them, they always seemed nice.

Nicer than the clearly overworked professor muttering away in the corner at any rate, which makes them the logical choice to approach when you find your bladder uncomfortably full halfway through your self imposed study session. Realistically, you know at this time of the night nobody else is likely to make their way up to the fourth floor, much less have any interest in your shitty, old laptop or the five whole dollars in your wallet - yet you find you making your way over to the twosome’s table anyway, a faint blush dusting across your cheeks.

“… don’t want to,” you overhear the blonde mutter, his attention wholly focused upon the game in his hands. “Things are fine, why change that?”

His friend sighs, “Because you can deny it all you want, but I know you better than that. I know I’m not the only one who wants more. You can’t just sit back and…” he trails off suddenly, hazel eyes flickering over to you in surprise.

Confused by his friend’s sudden silence, the blonde lowers his game and glances up - only to still at the sight of you.

You swallow down your nerves, plastering what you hope is a friendly enough smile across your face, “Hi, uh… sorry to interrupt you guys, but would you mind watching my stuff for a few minutes while I go to the bathroom? I won’t be long or anything, I just don’t like leaving my stuff out in the open,” you say with a sheepish laugh, well aware that you’re rambling like an idiot.

It’s the dark haired one who answers, a wide grin breaking across his face as he nods, “Yeah, no worries. We’d be glad to.”

You smile back, ignoring the faint fluttering in your stomach (he does look kind of cute grinning like that), thanking him again before rushing away in the direction of the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for your thoughts to drift away from the duo back to the essay you’re mid-way through drafting. You have a sinking feeling that the argument you’re trying to use in the fourth paragraph is essentially a just rehash of the point you made in the first. By the time you unlock the stall door and make your way over to the sink to wash your hands, you’re starting to debate the merits of scrapping the whole thing and starting fresh with new ideas.

You still technically have time, it’s not due until the end of the month, but you just kind of want it done so you don’t have to think about it anymore. Then again, that’s kind of your feelings towards the semester as a whole.

Who are you kidding? University’s kicking your ass this year.

The ancient hand dryer’s almost deafening as it clicks on - it masks the sound door swinging open and the footsteps that echo out from the tile floors.

It’s only when your eyes flicker up to mirror that you see that you’re no longer alone-

Standing right behind you is the guy from before; the tall, dark haired one.

- and jerk in surprise, stumbling backwards with a choked yelp.

It doesn’t hit you right away - no, that’s relief that has you drawing a hand over your chest and letting out a shaking laugh. “You scared the hell out of me!” you say, bracing yourself over the sink to try and calm your breathing.

No, it doesn’t hit you quickly. Realisation is slow - creeping through your veins like ice as your eyes flicker back up the mirror.

He hasn’t moved.

He’s smiling, grinning really, but there’s something… something off about it. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes… Why isn’t he saying anything?

W-why isn’t he moving away?

Your heart, still hammering from his shock of his sudden appearance, squeezes uncomfortably and your eyes slowly widen.

“Wh-”

A rough, calloused palm slaps across your mouth, smothering whatever words you’d been about to speak. “Ah, ah. Gotta keep it down, sweetheart.”

He winks at you in the mirror, taking a tiny step towards you and you squeak, breathing in sharp, shallow pants through your nose as a warm, muscled chest presses against your back. “You’re a nervous little thing, aren’tcha?” he chuckles. “Relax a little - promise I don’t bite.”

With one hand wrapped around your lips the other creeping across your waist, his words don’t exactly bring you a lot of comfort.

It makes no difference either way - you’re paralysed, shaking and trembling, but utterly unable to move as he noses at the column of your throat, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You could scream, but there’s no guarantee anybody would hear you. You could try and fight him off, but he’s taller than you, and you’re willing to bet stronger as well.

Will he hurt you if you try and resist?

Is he gonna hurt you anyway?

You’ve heard the stories before about men who follow women into empty bathrooms and the awful things they do, but you never...

Those things don’t happen in places like this. The library is supposed to be safe, he- he’s been-

Your stomach drops.

Weeks.

He’s been visiting the library with his friend, sitting across from you for weeks.

His eyes bore into your reflection in the mirror like he can hear every terrified thought that passes through your head, and with excruciating slowness you’re forced to watch as his lips brush a kiss against your cheek, lingering and sweet - a mockery of tenderness.

A scared little whimper is all you can manage, and even that is swallowed up by the sound of the bathroom door squeaking open once more.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening.

A faint burst of hope flickers to life.

You might not be a fighter, but this might be the only chance you have. You shriek again, the sound woefully muffled, and writhe against your captor’s tightening grip as slow footsteps round the corner.

Please, you think as tears stream silently down your face. Please help me.

What little hope you have is quickly - brutally - extinguished as your would be saviour steps into view.

Your legs shake and you’re almost positive that if it wasn’t for the strong arms wrapped around you, you would have crumpled to the floor.

It’s his friend, the blonde, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, watching the scene before him - you struggling against an iron grip, gagged and terrified - like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Your captor chuckles, relaxing his grip as his hand drifts upwards to palm at your breast and you want to die. “Glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

“Shut up, Kuroo,” the blonde groans as he makes his way over, but he barely glances at his friend before his catlike eyes come to rest on you.

Your cheeks are burning, a potent mix of shame, nausea and dread churning in your stomach as you’re crudely felt up, but under the blonde’s attention you freeze.

While his face is a blank mask of apathetic disinterest, those golden irises are piercing in their intensity as they study you.

The glint in his eyes is as unmistakable as it is stark; anticipation - like a house cat watching a golden canary flit restlessly in its cage.

The hiccuping sob comes unbidden, choking at your throat as you wail against the palm at your lips. You’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your entire life, to slap yourself awake and realise that it’s nothing but a stress induced nightmare because this can’t be happening.

Why you?

What could you possibly have done to deserve this?

“Relax,” Kuroo repeats, leaning down over you again, “we’re not gonna hurt you. Just wanna have some fun, that’s all.” You think he’s going to try and kiss you again, but instead his tongue darts out and he licks at the silvery tear tracks, groaning softly.

You shoot the quiet blonde a desperate, pleading look. He hasn’t lifted a finger to stop what’s happening, hasn’t done anything other than stare at you, but even as his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile you hold out on the shadow of a prayer that maybe, just maybe-

Kuroo follows your wide, panicked gaze and almost snorts. “You’re barking up the wrong tree there, baby. Kenma’s not gonna help you. He wants this just as badly as I do.” His thumb slides across your cheek, brushing away more tears, “C’mon, on your knees.”

He doesn’t give you a choice - the hand on your shoulder forces your shaking knees to buckle and you fall down to the bathroom floor.

The tiles are cold against your bare legs, but the shivers that wrack through you have little to do with the temperature. It’s far too late to regret the short skirt you’d thrown on that morning.

Kuroo hums appreciatively, lifting his palm to tap it a few times against your cheek like you’re an adorable little puppy who’s just learned its first trick, “It’s a good look for you, baby, but I think it’d be even better without this-” his fingers tug at the collar of your top and his grin widens, “- in the way.”

Yet he makes no move to take it off for you. One look into his eyes, the glittering amusement darkened with lewd desire and you know that he won’t.

He wants you to do it, to play along in their fun - to be an active participant in your own humiliation.

And really, what other choice do you have?

It’s impossible to ignore the bulge straining against his jeans as your trembling fingers grip the hem of your top and reluctantly yank it upwards. There’s a sharp inhale - Kuroo you think - and a whistle as it comes off, baring your lacy bra and the soft skin underneath to their hungry gazes.

Only for a moment.

Staring resolutely at the floor you’re quick to try and cover what little modesty you have left, bringing your arms up to wrap around your chest-

Except a hand catches at your wrist and tugs it back, and when you glance up you find it’s Kenma’s.

“… Don’t,” he murmurs. “I want to see you.”

You let your arms drop, hands clenching into shaking fists in your lap, fingernails biting into your palm.

The sound of a zipper being pulled undone is almost deafening in the quiet bathroom. Fresh tears sting at your eyes, but you can’t bear to look at either of them as Kuroo reaches inside his pants and frees his cock.

The hand that cups your cheek is surprisingly gentle as he coaxes your face back towards him and the achingly hard member in his grip. “See Kenma, I told you - change ain’t always a bad thing.”

His dark eyes flicker back to you and he grins, “Open up, sweetheart.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kenma #yandere kenma x reader #yandere #yandere kuroo tetsuro #yandere kuroo tetsuro x reader #female reader #yandere kenma kozume #yandere kenma kozume x reader #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #tw dub con #tw implied stalking #tw humiliation #kuroo x reader x kenma

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #31 - Ammo and the Anti-Glowup

So, the Lost Light disappeared, stranding all the crew in space in their little escape pods. 200-some robots just lost their homes and worldly possessions. That’s absolutely horrible. What a devastating thing to happen.

Anyway, here’s Drift with a flashback sequence.

No hips, fingers all the exact same length, hockey pucks embedded in his forearms- Rojo, this is a crime you’ve committed. When will the long arm of the law stop your sinful, pancake-shaped hands?

About two years prior to current events, Drift, Riptide, and Pipes- yes, Pipes!- were wandering around trying to find a ship for the space yacht trip. The gang’s here to see who owns the big honkin’ ship outside. Problem is, Drift is unintentionally terrifying because he has a great deal of swords.

Now, you may say to yourself “isn’t it a bit odd that the species that has members who literally turn into guns would be nervous around a guy with swords?” This is a valid critique, until you remember that at least some of the folks who turn into guns were born that way, and Drift was very much NOT born bladed the fuck out. There’s an entire miniseries devoted to explaining this, it’s called Drift. The swords are a choice, one that he makes every day.

Drift is willing to pay an honestly absurd amount of money for the ship, if he can just find the dude with the paperwork- don’t ask where he got the money. Pipes isn’t being terribly helpful in finding them, so Riptide decides that now is the time to start practicing being proactive and pulls a Coyote Ugly.

No, no, he doesn’t.

He does climb up on a table and start yelling for the ship’s owners to reveal themselves, though. Which they do.

Now it’s time for the world-building portion of our comic issue. Let’s learn about chirolinguistics.

Drift, staying true to his Mary Sue nature, uses his near-perfect Hand skills to strike up a deal with the owners of the ship. This would be impressive, if it didn’t just look like the most convoluted hand-holding session in the friggin’ universe.

Still, Drift is rich enough to make Jeff Bezos weep with envy, so the arrangements are made and the lads go on their way, talking some mad shit about the original name of the ship as they do.

So it is revealed to us that the Lost Light is named after a festival for honoring the dead and disappeared, which makes the fact that Rewind and Chromedome were there all the more sad.

Back in the present, Megatron tells Riptide to shut up so they can figure out what the hell they’re going to do about this whole “our home and also ride has ceased to exist” situation. He’s putting an awful lot of distance between himself and the rest of the Autobots as he does it, something that isn’t lost on the more bitter people of the crowd.

But why were we even talking about the Lost Light in the first place? Not to reminisce, believe it or not. See, it’s time for Nautica to get a little panel time, and she’s going to use it to be a massive fucking nerd and explain how the quantum engines work. As she does, Ratchet notes that his hands feel funny. Must be the weight of his hand-stealing sins manifesting itself in his joints.

Nautica explains that the engines run off of improbability- it is highly unlikely, but not impossible, that the ship can reach light speed, and riding the fine line between what can happen and what can’t, results in the creation of power for the engines. If this sounds familiar, it’s because Brainstorm gave us a watered down version of this explanation back in issue #2. If it sounds familiar for a different reason, it’s because this is how the Heart of Gold runs in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Again, I’m not sure why it is that the British love this concept so much, but there you are.

Oh, it appears someone has a question. Let’s see what they want to know about, shall we?

…Rojo, what the fuck is this.

Our muppety friend here isn’t too keen on how much of a smarmy asshole Nightbeat is being right now, though I’d assume it actually has something to do with the fact that Nightbeat got smacked around with the pretty-boy stick while Getaway very much did not. While the two bicker- there’s a lot of bickering in Season Two- Nautica presents a theory on what happened to the ship; it went too far in the direction of “can’t” and made itself cease to be.

Megatron gives not a shit about quantum improbability, though. He only cares about how they’re going to get out of this mess. Which, y’know. Valid.

Blaster picks up a radio from Rodimus, who tells the gang that they’re to meet up on a nearby planet to regroup and figure out their next move. The call drops before he can get more than a couple Megatron-directed insults in, however. Megatron, in response, tries to be the bigger person, and almost immediately fails. We do get a headcount though, which is good, logistically speaking. This information is communicated to us by way of a splash page full of character head shots. We’ve got 20 ‘bots on board this ship.

Yep. 20. No more, no less.

As our friends approach the planet, we’re informed that it’s actually a Lectureworld- a planet devoted to the study of a single field. Except it’s actually a Smartplanet now, and it’s been privatized by the Galactic Council, so you’ve got to pay to go there. Cyclonus thinks that that’s bullshit, and I can’t help but agree. Crosscut tries to network with they guy about his play, probably because word got around that Cyclonus is rich as hell, when the lights cut out. When they come back on, Crosscut is nowhere to be found.

It’s time for a Whodunnit.

Tailgate immediately pegs Megatron as the culprit in this disappearance, and breaks out a gun over the matter. Megatron thinks that this is absolutely adorable, which only serves to further infuriate our marshmallow friend. I guess he’s still mad about the whole “I was a Decepticon for five minutes and got brainwashed over it” thing, and wants someone to pin the anger on who’s socially acceptable to hate.

Cyclonus and Ratchet both think that Tailgate’s not going about this the right way, but the guy is simply too het up to listen to them. Tailgate suggests that they lock Megatron in the engine room for the time being and-

OKAY WHO LET HIM HAVE THAT

Riptide breaks out his gun, and soon we’ve got a standoff going between the three of them. Cyclonus tries to deescalate, which makes Gears and Huffer break out their guns. Then Hound breaks out his gun, though he seems to be doing his own thing, by pointing it in Nautica’s direction.

Broski, I think that might be animal cruelty.

Megatron manages to shoot Ravage “unconscious” and catches him by the friggin’ throat, stating that he has zero idea how this guy got here. With the heat off the two of them for a moment, Megatron communicates to Ravage to play ‘possum for the time being. Ravage responds, and I wonder exactly how he’s doing that, considering I don’t think he has enough fingers to effectively utilize Hand as a language. Or fingers at all, really.

While this is going on, Cyclonus snatches the gun out of Tailgate’s hand, admonishing him for being reckless about picking his fights. Generally speaking, you don’t want to try to go toe-to-toe with a guy who’s responsible for the deaths of literal billions. Getaway swoops in to comfort Tailgate, calling him gutsy. I wonder if this will become a trend.

Swerve says a thing, as he is wont to do, and it’s made known that multiple folks have disappeared during this incredibly brief standoff.

Wow, Chromedome just fucked off, huh? He wasn’t even in that sequence, just left.

Everyone’s positively baffled by the current happenings. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to who’s being taken. I guess we’ve got a mystery on our hands.

And who better to solve a mystery than a detective?

Nightbeat wrangles all the leftover folks into a corner of the room, so they can figure out what the common denominator is with all the disappearees. He starts with the easy stuff.

And by “easy”, I mean the super-special racism Tyrest subscribed to.

If you’ve read Eugenesis, you know that Nightbeat was also part of the first wave of cold-constructed bodies there. However, the general populace wasn’t nearly as chill about it as they were in IDW. Also, Wheeljack was his dad. No word on if that particular tidbit made it into IDW lore.

It’s at this point that we learn about M.T.O.s- made to order soldiers. They were cold-constructed ‘bots created en masse during the war in order to keep up with the demands for troops. Pretty fucked up, if you think about it, being born to die like that.

Now where have we heard that name before…

Chromedome, can your love life not be part of the plot for five minutes, my guy?

Nautica makes the honestly horrific claim that a lot of folks owe their existence to Megatron being a warmongering fuck, and even Megatron himself seems rather uncomfortable with the idea. Some thoughts we keep to ourselves, Nautica, even if they might be technically true. And even if Ammo wants to tack on his two cents on the matter.

What did they DO to you, Ammo? You’re supposed to be hot! Where are my three-paragraphs of description as Hound stares slack jawed the entire time? I miss Polyhex Wars.

Anyway, it’s Megatron’s turn to get poked with the questioning stick, and he’s not having it. He claims that by revealing his mode of creation, he’s risking a repeat of Functionist ideology. This would be valid, if people weren’t literally disappearing without any sort of explanation as to why. As it is, he’s being a stubborn asshole, but I guess he didn’t get his reputation by being a decent person who knew when to back down, now did he?

It’s at this point that Ratchet remembers he knows all the info Nightbeat’s looking for, and the conversation on Megatron’s birth is shelved for another day. I’m sure it won’t be a major plot point later, not in the slightest.

As it turns out, Nightbeat’s theory doesn’t hold water, and folks are still popping out of existence. We get another splash page, this time with everyone’s mode of creation listed under their names, and we move on to other theories about what the fuck is going on. While Nightbeat has a minor crisis over what the answer could possibly be, the MTOs in the group reminisce on the Ten-Step Program, a series of tests they were put through to make sure they worked well enough to get handed a gun and shoved out the door. Riptide wasn’t a fan.

Riptide has more wood panelling than a 70’s-style ranch house, and I think that’s very brave of him.

It’s at this point that Ratchet remembers it’s been quite a bit since he last shat on religion, and takes the time to do so while informing the reader about Information Creep. This is a concept we’ve seen mentioned previously, during Chromedome’s runaround in Overlord’s brain, but it’s here where we get the juicy implications.

Because memories can become corrupted in the brain due to extreme age, what ought to be objective fact has to be reinterpreted due to missing pieces. This is why nobody knows what the Knights of Cybertron got up to, or if they’re even actually real at all.

The lights go out again, and when they cut back on, Cyclonus is missing, leaving only his sword behind. Tailgate is extremely distraught by this, but Nightbeat gives not a fuck about Tailgate’s impending breakdown. He only cares about the truth!

And then a giant eyeball shows up.

It’s Ultra Magnus, coming to us live from his shuttle, via holomatter avatar! He shrinks down to a far more reasonable size, in a panel reminiscent of the first time IDW readers saw Megatron.

Don’t get me wrong, this is a neat parallel, I’m just… not terribly sure why it’s happening. One could say it reflects a reversal in power dynamics, but that theory gets tossed out the window when you remember that this isn’t actually Verity. I suppose it’s just a cool little thing.

Because the comms aren’t working, Ultra Magnus has been forced to use this avatar to communicate with the folks in the Rod Pod. Megatron asks just what the hell is going on, but unfortunately Magnus isn’t sure either. Then his shuttle disappears, and it’s bye-bye grunge girl Magnus.

It’s at this point that Nightbeat decides it’s time to stop pussyfooting around and get serious. He tells Ratchet to throw HIPPA directly in the garbage and write down everything he knows about the Autobots who crewed the Lost Light. And he does mean everything, as we get the splash page again, this time with lots of neat info on our friends, including spark type.

Spark types will become plot-relevant in the storyline after this, but for now let’s focus on some weird gender essentialism that got slapped into the first print of this issue.

As we know very well by this point, Transformers as a franchise has a tumultuous relationship with the idea of women existing. You would think that the awkward introduction of other genders we got in “Dark Cybertron” would have been the end of things being weird in IDW. However, you would be wrong.

In an effort to explain why genders exist, Roberts had the idea to make it spark-based. Nautica, in the solo print of this issue, has an estriol-positive spark. Estriol is a type of estrogen, which is the hormone that develops and maintains feminine secondary sex characteristics, when present in certain levels, in conjunction with other hormones. Biology

This “spark = gender” idea is, generally speaking, not a great idea to be presenting us with, especially when the writer is a cishet male, because it implies biological essentialism- the idea that a personality trait/quality of a person is innate and predetermined by their biology, as opposed to social, cultural, or individual experiences. Because this story doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it’s irresponsible to reduce the experience of being a woman to a single, physical, unchangable asset, especially when all other assets of the same class have zero effect on one’s gender identity. You don’t exactly see many nonbinary robots running around, now do you? And there are definitely more than two spark types, despite the Transformers as a species being... very binary.

It also makes female Transformers into an “other”, which is a problem that has existed from the very start of the franchise, in some form or fashion, and really doesn’t need to be perpetrated anymore than it already is.

The estriol spark type was removed in the trade edition, and Roberts has expressed regrets over its inclusion, having realized that it was potentially offensive.

Getting back to the story, Swerve, Tailgate, and Ratchet have disappeared, though Ratchet seems to have left his hands behind. His stolen, Pharma-original hands.

That’s still fucked up to me. I don’t think it’ll ever not be fucked up.

Riptide reveals the reason that he wasn’t in Season One of MTMTE was because when he went back to grab a receipt for the ship two years prior, he’d discovered that the original owners were worshipers of Mortilus, Cybertronian god of death, and knew about the nasty little problem that was the sparkeater from the first storyline. When Riptide went to confront them about it, they beat him up so bad he was unconscious for two solid days.

Which is a long-ass time to be unconscious. That might have been a coma, Riptide. Jesus, I hope someone got him to a hospital after this beatdown happened, or at least scraped him off the floor.

With this last piece of the puzzle, we finally have the common denominator in this big ol’ mystery. Everyone who disappeared was on the Lost Light when it took off from Cybertron in issue #1, and everyone left behind- Skids, Getaway, Nightbeat, Nautica, Megatron, and Ravage- didn’t join until afterwords.

Of course, having the answer doesn’t do us much good when everyone is still missing, and Megatron seems to agree with me, because he’s about to throw hands, when Nautica lets them know that they’ve arrived at the rendezvous. Problem is, so has something else.

...

I’m sure it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiine!

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #issue 31 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #incoming analysis #overthinking about robots #comic script writing

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apatheticanvas91305 · 3 years ago

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Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas celebration day to @firefly124! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though.

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed. Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #hurt/comfort #cas is hurting #dean is there #i hope this wasn't too angsty and had enough comfort in there for you #fanfic #kat scribbles #literally in this case #userstarry #writing challenge #mentions of death #feelings of worthlessness #baby is also there haha #fuck #not literally in this case #first kiss #starrynightdeancas gift exchange

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felidaefatigue · 3 years ago

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Pretentious ceramic artist rant incoming

[[MORE]]

So my partner rents studio space at a local pottery place. Its ran by a woman who basically just had a shit ton of money and wanted to get into it so. you can kind of imagine. that its not like. the most well ran place. Not to say its bad but like. Anyways.

My partner went to school with me, so formally trained in pottery, is a really great artist, has been doing tech stuff since being in school. Sometimes helps out the studio by loadin/unloading and firing kilns. He got in a bit of an arguement (barely could be called that tbh) with a woman theyve hired as a tech. Who is still IN school (3rd or 4th year which usually isnt ooooverly qualified for doing tech thibgs unsupervised n very much still learning- i certainly wouldnt have been able to be a tech at that point). Because he loaded a class kiln, confirmed with management he was ok to, but she had wanted to do it a later day. This was also after he had mentioned in their communications for people to keep him in the loop about things because he was recently helping out, because he had to fix work that got stuck to shelves when other people had apparently already changed their mind about doing that for them.

So anyways he loads this kiln. Has to get mad at that tech because she stacked kiln shelves (which are VERY EXPENSIVE) in a way that is very bad for them and makes them likely to crack. No kiln shleves anywhere are ever stored stacked on each other. This is taught to you. And she only put fresh kiln wash on literally 1 shelf. (kiln wash is a refractory paint that keeps glaze from sticking to the shelves- if anything sticks to a shelf and exposes it, it needs rewashed, and routinely to keep them in good shape). Also her cone packs (a cone is a thing that melts at a set temp so you know how hot the kiln gets) were falling apart and made with the wrong style of cone and just bad. So he used his own.

So he loads it. does all this extra work washing shelves n shit. is worried cause its a little tight. gets yelled at for doing it at all by this woman. She removes his cone packs.

we dont hear anything for awhile

then we find out they had to unload the WHOLE KILN because apparently "someone" had gotten "suspicious" that the kiln wash had glaze in it- which is VERY BAD. Because glaze is the OPPOSITE of kiln wash and turns into GLASS and would have FUSED THE WHOLE KILN LOAD TOGETHER.

so she probably realized she mixed glaze into it somehow (which is WILD because HOW THE FUCK that such a massive mistake) and was mad because she had to tel someone now that she couldnt fix it before the kiln was loaded .. like im just. speechless.

this woman should not be in a tech position.

and this also really reinforces my belief that hobby potters REALLY need to fucking humble themselves and stop trying to be proffessional potters with nothing more than a community college course or half a bachelors degree like. i DONT want to say u need education to be an artist or make a living. but CERAMICS is VERY FUCKING TECHNICAL. you can KILL PEOPLE by using the wrong glaze or misfiring a kiln. and you can poison and maim people in A LOT OF OTHER WAYS. And just. blindly working under the assumption you know enough is so god damn reckless. Like that would have been a several hundred if not thousands of dollars worth of equipment of a mistake for the company. let alone all the student and studio proffessional's work in the kiln that would have been unsalvagable.

like i love potters and small business and i DEFINITELY know how hard it is to get going and you gotta just do things but like. Ask for fucking help. Ask someone more knowledgable to shadow you while you do things on your own the first few times just to make sure you are doing it right. potters are some if the most community minded art people ve ever known. they would help. Its unacceptable.

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bedlamsbard · 4 years ago

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Part two of the Caleb and Loth-wolf concept! I am tentatively planning for this to be a five things fic, but I am absolutely unwilling to commit to that at the moment. This follows part one; technically it’s backstory for The Starry Crown, but its relevance there isn’t in any of the posted chapters and it stands on its own.

About 4.7K below the break.

***

When Caleb had a question about anything, which was often, because he didn’t like not knowing things and he liked the satisfaction of having a proper explanation to fill empty spaces in his knowledge of the universe, his preferred method was to pester the crèche masters until he was satisfied by their responses. But this time he didn’t want to let Master Krell know about Rroshaal, since if Rroshaal had wanted Krell to know about him he would have stayed with Caleb instead of disappearing.

So instead, Caleb went to the library.

Caleb liked the library. It was quiet and while sometimes the Knights and older padawans working there looked askance at his presence, no one had ever kicked him out, though he had on occasion been steered away from some of the more restricted sections. Master Nu, upon once finding him struggling to fetch out a holodisk shelved out of his reach because he was intrigued by the symbols on the spine, had shown him how to use the computers to search the Temple databases. Caleb’s log-in was keyed to his DNA and he hadn’t yet figured out how to get around that, so his access was fairly restricted compared to what even an initiate or older youngling might have gotten, but it was better than not having it at all, and he could lose hours scrolling through seemingly endless amounts of information. Sometimes he didn’t even recognize the redactions where information that wasn’t appropriate for his level had been hidden.

He waited impatiently through his last few lessons for the day, which he normally liked but wasn’t in the mood for, then practically ran out of the classroom and towards the library. Caleb made his way through the mazelike corridors of the Jedi Temple with the ease of long practice. He could have done it blindfolded; younglings trained and played that way, placing their trust in the Force and their other senses so that they didn’t become overly reliant on their eyes. This time he didn’t bother.

It was late enough in the day that most of the diurnal species in the Temple – the majority of them – had gone to dinner, either to eat in their rooms or the crèche or one of the big public halls or the gardens. Caleb bounced excitedly into the library and looked around for a free computer. The few Jedi still there looked around at his entrance, indulgently amused at his arrival. Caleb waved at them cheerfully and went over to the nearest computer, raising the seat up until he could see the screen clearly. He poked at the keyboard with his index fingers, trying to think of what the best search terms for Rroshaal’s species were.

Half an hour later, he had found all sorts of canines and felines and other mammals which varied from adorable to terrifying, but nothing that matched his memory of Rroshaal. They varied on the sentience scale, and if Caleb hadn’t been so focused on finding Rroshaal’s species he might have dropped everything to go beg the crèche masters for a miniature hamerlok puppy, but as it was he filed that away to think about later.

Caleb ended up in the library often enough that he knew better than to waste time searching for something when he didn’t know the best way to do so or didn’t have the necessary access. He looked around for one of the librarians and saw Master Nu coming towards him; she had found him on one of his research spirals a dozen times before and knew his pattern. He waved at her and she smiled at him.

“What are you looking for, Caleb?” she asked, resting a hand on the back of his chair.

Trying to sound as grown-up as possible, Caleb turned towards her and said, “I’m trying to identify another species, but I haven’t been able to find him – them.”

“A sentient species?”

He nodded. “But not a humanoid.”

“Someone you saw here in the Temple?”

Caleb bit his lip. Technically he had seen Rroshaal in the Temple, but he didn’t want to admit to Master Nu that he had been in the underlevels, and that wasn’t what she meant anyway. She was asking if he was talking about another Jedi, or maybe one of the civilians who were in the Temple sometimes. “I had a vision?” he said tentatively. It was partially true, after all; Rroshaal had shown him his species through the Force, and that was sort of like a vision. And he had seen Rroshaal with his own eyes, which was technically vision even if it wasn’t a vision. “I read a holobook,” he added, almost immediately afterwards. He read lots of holobooks.

Master Nu looked amused, but didn’t comment on the two contradictory explanations. “Do you know what this other species of yours looks like?”

Caleb nodded firmly. “Big. Furry. Sort of like canines – maybe like lupines. I don’t understand the difference,” he admitted. He pointed at the screen, which was still open on the image of the miniature hamerlok, which was a domesticated subspecies of an Alderaanian predator. It looked a little like Rroshaal had, except much smaller and less fluffy, and the wrong color, though the entry said they came in lots of colors. “Like that. But not. And they can use the Force. And they live in grasslands.”

“Hmm,” Master Nu said. She thought for a moment, then leaned over his shoulder. “Has anyone shown you how to use species identification software?”

Caleb perked up. “That exists?”

“It’s often used by law enforcement, but many Jedi find it useful for other purposes as well,” Master Nu explained. “Most Jedi don’t have to use it until they’re padawans.”

Caleb bounced excitedly at this new information, moving his chair to the side so that she could bring up the program. She had to enter her own ID and log-in information, then adjust the access levels so that Caleb would be able to use it without having someone else log him in. He watched excitedly as she showed him how to cycle through different physical traits, slowly building an image on the screen of Rroshaal as Caleb remembered him. When he was finished, the program offered him a list of possible species that matched the criteria Caleb had inputted.

“Do any of these look right?” Master Nu asked. “From your holobook?”

Caleb shrugged. “No, Master. Can we look at all of them?” There were fewer than a dozen, ranked in order of most to least likely.

“That’s usually the best way to do it.”

Caleb carefully put his finger to the first option, which read TUK’ATA/SITH HOUND (MORABAND). As soon as the new window opened, he shook his head, but read the entry anyway, fascinated, then looked up at Master Nu. “They can’t really all be evil, can they? I mean, if you got a pup and raised it here in the Temple – or away from the Sith worlds, anyway –”

“I can’t recall whether anyone has ever attempted it, but looking up their history might be a good research project for you,” Master Nu said, bemused. “It does seem like the sort of thing someone would have tried, especially during the aftermath of the Sith Wars.”

“I want to try,” Caleb declared.

“That is the sort of experiment that will have to wait until you’re at least a padawan,” Master Nu told him firmly. “Since you would have to go to Moraband to find one – every attempt to traffic them offworld has failed. That’s something else you could look up another time.”

Caleb nodded and closed the window. He touched the next item in the list, LOTH-WOLF (LOTHAL), and as soon as it opened, said delightedly, “That’s him! But they’re not extinct?” he added, seeing the first line of the entry.

“Why do you think that?”

“I saw him. I talked to him.” Caleb remembered abruptly that he didn’t want to explain how he had done so and said quickly, “In my vision.”

Master Nu quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to tell me about your vision?” she asked. “Or perhaps talk to one of the masters who specializes in seeing?”

Caleb shook his head so rapidly that his learner’s braid hit him in the nose. “I have to figure it out on my own,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster when he was lying through his teeth. He copied the information carefully to his data storage account, then went back to get the tuk’ata information too while Master Nu went to find him some more books on Loth-wolves, after first making him promise that if he had another vision he would bring it to her or one of the other masters. Since if he ever actually did have a vision that was more than the flashes of precognition that gave Jedi their reflexes he was planning to tell everyone he knew, Caleb promised this solemnly.

Master Nu came back a few minutes later with a stack of holobooks for him – one a survey on Force-sensitive semi-sentient creatures and non-humanoids, one a travelogue from a Jedi Master who had mapped out many of the known Force-strong worlds, and one a history about Force-users who partnered with non-humanoids or semi-sentients. Caleb quietly thought that both “semi-sentient” and “non-humanoid” didn’t describe Rroshaal at all, but he wasn’t about to tell Master Nu that. Well, the non-humanoid part was true, but it didn’t really sum up what Rroshaal was.

He put the books carefully in his bag, noting that the history book was past his usual access level and wondering why, thanked Master Nu, and hurried off to the nearest dining hall. Dinner was still being served; even if he had missed it there was always food available somewhere in the Temple, though sometimes you had to do a bit more searching to find it. He wrapped a dozen meat pasties in a napkin along with two pieces of his favorite spice cake, then wrapped them in another napkin before putting them in his bag and making sure his water bottle was still mostly full. No one paid him any attention – he had found one of the dining halls that was mostly used by Knights and masters, a few of whom he knew, but everyone in the Temple was used to everyone else occasionally doing odd things. He waved at a Kiffar Knight who was one of his teachers in staff-fighting and left, grabbing a jogan fruit from a bowl as he did so.

He had to pause outside the hall and think about the best way to get down to the underlevels, since he wasn’t supposed to go there. After getting caught down there the previous day he probably really wasn’t supposed to go there, but it wasn’t like every youngling didn’t do it at one point or another. Like almost everything else in the Temple, there were lots of ways to get there, but Caleb thought that it was probably best if he chose one of the entrances closest to where Rroshaal had left him. He wanted Rroshaal to be able to find him again, but he didn’t want to get caught by Master Krell or any of the other crèche masters, either.

Decision made, he went trotting off. It took him longer to reach the underlevels than he had expected, since he was coming by a different route, but eventually he reached the bottom of the last staircase and hesitated, looking around. He had taken care to bring a glowstone with him this time so he wouldn’t get caught in the dark again, even if he couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt a little like cheating. What Caleb should have had was a lightsaber, but he wouldn’t have a lightsaber until after he had had his Gathering, and his cohort wouldn’t go on their Gathering for at least another two years, maybe even three or four.

“Rroshaal?” he called into the quiet, waiting dark of the underlevels. From here it just seemed like empty, unused space, but Caleb knew that it wasn’t. Further away – and further down – the underlevels deteriorated into a series of mazes, layers and layers of ancient temples built on top of each other. He’d read a book on it – well, he had run across it in a history, but when he went looking for more books he had found that they were beyond his access level, and Master Nu couldn’t be convinced to give them to him anyway. Caleb thought he might ask again, now that he had the excuse of having been caught down in the underlevels. He might as well use it for something. Maybe he could convince Master Krell and Master Nu that having to write a report on the history of the underlevels was an appropriate punishment.

“Rroshaal?” he called again. “It’s Caleb Dume. Rroshaal?”

There was no response. Caleb hesitated, wondering if he ought to go further in and away from the stairs. Maybe Rroshaal wouldn’t want to come this close to the entrance to the rest of the Temple, even though he had brought Caleb back yesterday.

He stood there for a few minutes, calling occasionally and hoping both that there weren’t security cams down here and that no one could hear him from the next level up.

There was no response.

Caleb stood there on the last step, feeling heat gather in his cheeks from embarrassment. He’d thought that Rroshaal had liked him. He was on the verge of going back to the crèche to palm off all the pasties on his crèche-mates when he thought suddenly, no. He had been acting like Rroshaal was a dumb animal, like the charhound pup one of the older initiates was fostering. Not that the charhound wasn’t very intelligent, but it wasn’t exactly a person, and Rroshaal was.

He reached with the Force, concentrating on his memory of Rroshaal’s strong sense of personality, and let his mind sink down into the vergence the Temple was built on. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to do that because vergences were dangerous – even Knights and masters weren’t supposed to do that – but Caleb thought that because he more or less knew what he was doing with it that he probably wouldn’t lose himself in the Force. He remembered what Rroshaal had told him yesterday, about the vergence where he lived and being able to move between that vergence and the one under the Temple. In a way, every vergence in the Force was one. They were unique – but at the same time they were also one.

Rroshaal? he thought, layering his memory of Rroshaal’s strong personality onto it. With rare exception, Jedi weren’t telepaths, but for their first few years in the crèche they didn’t have to speak to each other with words, either; they had the Force for that. Rroshaal, it’s Caleb Dume. He added his own mental signature to that, the emotional overtones in the Force that would tell another Force-user that it was him, Caleb Dume, and not someone else.

He could feel the weight of the Force as he opened himself to it. It was like the lake that he had seen on Alderaan when his cohort had visited the planet the previous year, the deep lake that was actually a rift in the planet’s surface and was more than ten kilometers deep. It pulled at him, at the surface of his mind; Caleb was aware of it – of it fluttering at the edges of his consciousness, bits and pieces of things that had happened in the past, that could have happened in the past, that were yet to come, of people who were long dead or were yet to be born or might never be born, of his people and the enemy of his people and all of those who touched the Force in their own way, whether they were Jedi or not.

He had never gone that deep into the Force before. He hadn’t meant to do so now.

He fought aside his instinctive panic, knowing that, like the lake, if he panicked he would drown. Caleb concentrated hard on his memory of Rroshaal, forcing himself to ignore the insistent whispers of almost-sound and the flickering almost-sight at the edges of his mind. Jedi were will. He wouldn’t let himself be swayed from his intention, now that he had set himself upon it.

Jedi were the Force. Whatever it was trying to show him, he already knew – he already was, or would be, or could be. All things were true at once in the Force.

Not trying to show him, he thought, a little dizzy. Do or do not. There is no try.

Caleb stopped fighting the almost-visions and let them pass through them instead, still keeping his mind on Rroshaal. He felt – bigger, somehow, older, as if his body no longer quite fit him in his dim awareness of his own physical form. But it wasn’t not his body, either; there was nothing unfamiliar about it. Caleb accepted that and let his call to Rroshaal roll out again, noting absently that there were layers in his mental signature that he had never been consciously aware of before. But they had always been there, of course.

He felt an instant of sleepy surprise, then acknowledgment.

They came from outside himself and were accompanied by a strong sense of place; Caleb tasted prairie winds and the rock-smell of an unfamiliar world, the warmth of lazing in a sun he had never stood under.

Certain that he had been heard, Caleb dragged himself uncertainly out of his trance. Reality fluttered around him; Caleb could feel it flexing, as if someone had shaken out a sheet and each fold held a different possibility, a different time, a different place. Then, before he had time to panic, it settled again, leaving him gasping in the dim light of the underlevels.

He sat down heavily on the steps.

After a moment he dug in his bag and came up with the jogan he had grabbed in the dining hall, which he ate slowly. One of the earliest things that younglings were taught was to eat or drink something after an intense meditation session, because it reminded them that while they might be the Force and full of light, they still had physical bodies. Caleb ate the jogan in small, neat bites, concentrating on its taste and how it felt in his mouth, and eventually got out of his datapad to read the database entry about Loth-wolves that he had gotten from the library computers. He had finished both and set the datapad aside so that he could wrap up the jogan pips to throw away later when he heard the soft click…click… of approaching claws on the marble floor.

He saw Rroshaal’s glowing eyes first, coming out of the darkness of the underlevels.

Caleb stood up to greet him, momentarily startled by how big Rroshaal was – he’d somehow forgotten. Rroshaal came up to him and ducked his head to nuzzle thoughtfully at Caleb’s hair, then licked Caleb’s face in a greeting.

“Hello!” Caleb said happily. “You came!”

Rroshaal licked his face again. He had been napping, he told Caleb; it was the middle of the day on his homeworld, and most of his people slept then. Caleb got the brief impression of windswept grasslands, too hot under the summer sun for Rroshaal to want to be out in.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said. “It’s dinner time here. I’ve got dinner,” he added. “If you want?”

Rroshaal made an inquisitive sound and lay down as Caleb dug in his bag for the pasties. He laid most of them down on the cloth for Rroshaal to sniff at, but kept two for himself, watching Rroshaal eat each one in two bites. Interesting, was his observation when he was finished.

“It’s ronto, I think,” Caleb said; he was only halfway through his first one by the time Rroshaal had finished. “Do you have rontos on your world? They’re saurians, they live on desert worlds mostly, and a lot of ranchers breed them for meat.” He pictured the holos he had seen; he hadn’t seen one in person yet.

Rroshaal’s response was in the negative. Hoppers, he replied to Caleb, along with a strong sense of a big four-legged mammal that moved by leaping from its hindmost feet; it used its front legs more like arms and Rroshaal had a strong, vivid memory of being punched in the nose by one during his last hunt. The memory was accompanied by a strong, gamey taste of raw meat that made Caleb blink, a little startled. Lopers. This seemed to encompass several different kinds of hooved herbivores, some of which were nearly as big as Rroshaal and some of which were much smaller. They moved in herds and ran fast, leaping across the grasslands when the pack hunted them. Horrible birds. These were flightless birds two or three times as tall as Caleb, taller than Rroshaal, with toothed beaks and talon-like feet; Rroshaal showed him the scars another Loth-wolf had from being attacked by one some years earlier, but added that they were tasty after you brought them down. Others. He got a flickering sense of what his instructors would have called “a healthy ecosystem,” and recognized a few species he had seen in holos before. Or relatives, anyway, but you saw convergent evolution on many worlds, and colony worlds especially.

Rroshaal sensed the thought and made a little whuff in the negative. Too much prey, he told Caleb. Horrible birds kill some, but only on one continent. Used to be more hunters. Caleb got a hazy impression of several kinds of big felines and avians; the haziness was because they were extinct and Rroshaal had never seen them himself, only through the passed-down memories of other members of his pack.

“Colonists killed them?” Caleb asked, remembering one of his classes. It happened a lot.

Rroshaal made an affirmative sound. Others, he said again, showing Caleb several animals he recognized.

“Those are nerfs,” Caleb said. “They’re all over the galaxy. People breed them for meat and fur. And the little saurians are nunas. They’re meat animals too. I can’t remember what the fluffy ones are, but I’ve seen holos of them before.”

Tasty, Rroshaal observed, licking his lips. Then he laid his chin down on his paws and added sadly, Not enough pups.

That reminded Caleb. “I read about you!” he said. “I looked you up in the library. You’re a Loth-wolf.”

Rroshaal flicked an ear, bemused by the name. The People, he said instead.

“I know, but most species call themselves something like that. I’m a human.”

Rroshaal raised his head and snuffled thoughtfully at Caleb’s knees for a moment before saying doubtfully, You’re People. You feel like People, even if you don’t smell like People.

Caleb put his hands out for Rroshaal to sniff, then lick clean of lingering crumbs. “I’m a Force-user – a Jedi. Maybe that’s it.”

Rroshaal whuffed again, dubious.

“You’re supposed to be extinct,” Caleb said, then hesitated, unsure if he had hurt Rroshaal’s feelings. Instead he just felt the Loth-wolf’s resigned weariness.

Not enough pups, he said again. It took Caleb a few moments to sort through the flurry of information that accompanied the words; Rroshaal had been the only pup in his pack to live more than a year in the last decade. Pups had been born dead or had gotten sick and died soon afterwards. He had heard that other packs were just as badly off.

Caleb said shyly, “We – the Jedi – are having problems too. I heard the crèche masters talking about it with Master Windu and Master Yoda once. There used to be thousands more Jedi than there are now – there are whole sections of the Temple that are shut up – and the cohorts keep getting smaller and smaller. Even two hundred years ago you’d have cohorts of dozens, but mine is only three people, and the ones after me are the same. About twenty or thirty years ago all of a sudden the Temple started getting large cohorts again – large by current standards – and that lasted for about twenty years before they suddenly started dropping off in size. The senior padawans now are from the last few large cohorts. The masters don’t know if not as many Force-sensitive younglings are being born or if they’re just not being found.”

Rroshaal made an inquisitive noise.

“I don’t know all of it,” Caleb admitted. “When babies are born in Republic medcenters, they’re required to have a lot of tests run, and one of those is for midichlorian count. That gets passed onto the Order if the parents consent, and if it’s high enough then someone – usually the Sector Watchman – will check on them regularly. Just because you have a high midichlorian count doesn’t mean you can be a Jedi, though, so the Watchmen have to keep checking, and of course if the families refuse then they won’t. Outside the medcenters it’s mostly just the will of the Force.” He stared longingly at Rroshaal’s soft-looking ears, wondering how rude it would be to ask Rroshaal if he could pet them. “I was born in the Temple.”

Rroshaal’s ears flicked forward, interested.

“It’s not usual,” Caleb admitted. “It happens once or twice a generation, but usually even if one or both parents is a Jedi then the baby won’t be strong enough to be one too. I was. That’s not rare, but it’s not common, either.” He shrugged in response to Rroshaal’s question. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter who they are. If I hadn’t been strong enough in the Force to be a Jedi I would have gone to one of their birth-families if they wanted.” He hesitated, then admitted, “I heard once that one of them is an old military family on Coruscant, but I don’t know if that’s true or not. And it doesn’t matter anyway since I’m a Jedi.”

People, Rroshaal insisted.

Caleb spread his hands for Rroshaal to see. “Not People, not like yours,” he said. Then he got the cake out of his bag and offered one piece to Rroshaal, who sniffed it with interest, then sneezed. “It’s spice cake,” he explained. “It’s my favorite.”

Rroshaal ate it out of his palm in several delicate bites, then lay licking his teeth thoughtfully as Caleb ate his own piece of spice cake. Good, he decided finally, then gave Caleb a grin, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Different.

He licked Caleb’s hands clean when Caleb held them out again, then flicked one ear back as if he had heard someone calling him. I have to go, he said regretfully. My mother wants me.

Caleb had the brief impression of a bigger version of Rroshaal, brown and with a scarred ear, whom Rroshaal regarded with occasionally frustrated adoration. He said wistfully, “Can I see you tomorrow?”

We’ll be away, Rroshaal said, and Caleb could tell that he genuinely regretted it. Embassy to another pack. He thought, then said, Nine days?

“How long are your days?” Caleb asked, then realized that Rroshaal probably didn’t count time in hours. “I’ll look it up.” He hesitated, then added, “Can I hug you?”

At the affirmative response, they both stood up, and Caleb carefully put his arms around as much of Rroshaal’s furry front as he could manage. He was just as soft as Caleb remembered from the previous day and smelled of clean fur and unknown winds, a little musky. Rroshaal tucked his muzzle down against Caleb’s back, then licked his face after Caleb released him. Caleb curved the backs of his knuckles against Rroshaal’s cheek, carefully stroking the short fur there, then giggled as Rroshaal rubbed his cheek against Caleb’s smooth one.

Soon, he promised, then, Bring more of the cake-thing.

“I will,” Caleb said.

Rroshaal licked his nose, then backed away. Caleb must have blinked, because one moment Rroshaal was there, then the next he had vanished into the shadows of the underlevels.

Caleb sighed regretfully and rubbed the back of his hand over his nose, the scooped up the discarded cloths and stuffed them into his bag. He had a lot of reading he wanted to do before he saw Rroshaal again.

#cut scenes and concept writing #caleb and the loth wolf tag #comics caleb is a tiny nerd #as always comments are appreciated #eta: yes I DO have a partially written concept for caleb's extended birth family; the forbidden backstory

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