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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 years ago

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HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Thank you all so, so, soooo much for the love on this story! I'll be writing some brand new shit soon! Stay safe! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

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TEN.

When the next day comes, it brings with it some unseasonably warm weather that Aizawa feels when he wanders into the living room and finds you gone.

He isn’t sure how you got out since the windows are locked, but he supposes that cats have their ways. He felt a twinge of disappointment at seeing you gone once again, but he knew that you would probably want to be outside and not cooped up in a dorm all day.

Plus, now that Eri has more hope that you’ll come home after your adventures, she seems much happier. Even when he wakes her up in time to get her ready to hang with Hitoshi before his classes begin, she is a giggly, upbeat little ball of energy.

“Maybe she’ll bring back a present,” she happily says as she and Aizawa walk hand and hand across campus. “Or maybe she’s with other kitties! You think she’ll let us meet them, Daddy?” The way she looks up at him excitedly makes his heart clench. “If she trusts us enough and has friends, sure,” he chuckles.

During the entire day of work, Aizawa is feeling pretty good, though one thing could make his day go a whole lot better: seeing you.

He purposely has stopped by your office a few times when taking bathroom breaks just to see you, but every time he does, you’re never in. He thinks that maybe you just took off today or perhaps your hours are different this week.

Whatever it is, it’s none of his business, but he can't help the disappointment he feels at not seeing your pretty face or cute little ears.

He has no idea why since he ends up becoming a rock-hard, blushing mess over them regardless. He doesn’t know how he was able to say even one coherent sentence to you while he and Eri were eating ice cream yesterday afternoon. Maybe Eri was the missing link. Or maybe the ice cream. It’s been proven chocolate works as an aphrodisiac.

Aizawa can’t help but feel wistful about his conversation yesterday with you. It was all so amazing that it felt like a good dream to him–the easiness he felt speaking to you; the way such joy sparkled in your eyes; your musical laughs that he wanted to hear again and again; the way you engaged Eri that made him want to put a baby in you himself.

It all felt so good. So right. He can't help but feel like that may never happen to him and you again.

He’s just too damn anti-social. Too shy. Too awkward. What would he be able to say without Eri linking the two of you together? How can he speak to you, especially with those damn ears and that tail he wants to desperately stroke?

Where does he even begin to learn how to charm and woo a woman when he hasn’t had the urge to do so since high school?

He knows just the person to talk about this with, so after the day is through and school is out, he and Mic take a trip to the faculty dorms’ private gym. They leave Eri in the kids’ section that Nezu specifically created for her and any other faculty members who may have children. So far, she’s the only one occupying the space.

While Eri colors and sings along to the Little Mermaid playing on the TV overhead, Aizawa gives Mic the rundown on his dilemma as he does his bicep curls with some 16 lb dumbells.

Mic is overjoyed as he does his cool-down stretches, his long legs splayed out in front of him. “Ah, I’m so glad you’re coming to me with this, Shouta!” he happily says, grinning at his friend. “We need to talk like this more! It’ll do you good to open up about your concerns and anxieties with the ways of women.”

“Don't get used to it,” Aizawa grumbles, giving Mic a fixed stare from the bench. “I’m only tellin’ you because you’re the only one I semi-trust with this.”

Mic just laughs as he continues his cool-down stretches, pressing down onto his knees. “And I only wanna talk to her because she seems nice. I don’t want her to think I hate people or whatever.”

Mic glances at him curiously. “But you do hate people.”

Aizawa flushes as he bends forward, still doing his curls. “Well, yes, but she’s too nice to be all people,” he argues. “She actually gives a fuck about her job and the way she engaged in conversation with Eri was just…”

He trails off and smiles dreamily as his mind fills with visions of you and Eri together, in your own little world. The way you encouraged her to be her little bubbly, hyper self was the cutest shit he’d ever seen. You’d be a great mom, he knows…if you aren’t one already, that is.

Something in Aizawa wilts at the possibility of someone having you–maybe a partner or a husband. You never talked about being married or dating, especially to him, so he knows thinking this way is stupid. But dammit, he just can’t help himself or these intrusive thoughts.

Feeling eyes on him, he looks at Mic, finding a goofy, knowing grin on his face. “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he growls.

“Man, I don’t know why you don’t just admit that you like the girl!” Mic laughs, standing up and raising his arms, lean with muscle, high. “C’mon; she’s sweet, intelligent, loves kids, and has those cute lil’ cat parts. She’s your dream girl!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes, thinking his friend is just being overly dramatic as usual. “Just ask her out one day when she’s free. Simple as that!”

Aizawa softly grunts as he lays the dumbbells down at his feet, giving his arms a break. “I don’t just ask people out,” he huffs, frustrated. “And I’m not askin’ her out, to begin with. I just want to have a conversation with her without feeling awkward. I want us to be strictly friends.”

Mic just shakes his head pityingly at the professor. “Whatever you saaaay,” he sing-songs, obviously thinking differently. “But you should still ask her to lunch or something to get to know her if you don’t feel comfortable doing it around us in the break room.” He snaps his fingers, a lightbulb flicking in his head. “Maybe for some ramen! Everybody likes ramen, right?”

“Who likes ramen?” you suddenly ask from the door. Aizawa nearly chokes on the water he’s chugging down when he spots you in a bright yellow sports bra and black yoga pants that should be illegal on you, especially with the way you cut out the back so your tail can breathe. It swishes happily at your ankles when you spot Mic.

“I thought I heard your voice,” you giggle. “I could hear you all the way down the hall.” You come farther into the room with a duffle bag and Hydroflask.

As you do, your eyes fall onto Aizawa and your tail stops swishing. “Oh…sorry, I didn’t know you had company.” Aizawa’s mouth goes dry despite the water he just drank as he stares at you, forcing himself to not check you out.

Mic snickers quietly, already gathering his shit. “No, come in!” he enthusiastically insists. “I was just getting ready to leave. Gotta grade papers now or else I’ll never get to ‘em. But you don’t worry your pretty ears; Shouta here is a great gym buddy.”

He turns to Aizawa and gives him a wink. “See you two tomorrow!” he chirps before he practically rushes out of the gym.

Aizawa makes a mental note to kill his friend and hide the body later.

When you walk farther into the room, you barely spare him a glance. Though it pains him, he can’t exactly blame you because he keeps his eyes down at his feet too as he proceeds to finish his bicep curls.

Out of his peripheral, he watches as you lay a yoga mat down from the row of shelves underneath the mirror sitting in front of you. You wipe it down with a sanitized wipe before kicking off your shoes, plugging in your earbuds, and getting right to the warm-up stretches.

Aizawa can’t help but watch, noticing how flexible you are. The way you bend this way and that, your muscles moving with every pose, makes his cock grow embarrassingly hard in his sweats.

The air between you is tense and thick with something he can’t quite describe: Awkwardness? Definitely. Desire? Possibly, on his side. He just can’t help himself when he begins to acknowledge how good you look in yoga pants.

He quickly looks away, instead opting to look towards the empty treadmills on the other side of the room. What he wouldn’t give to get a handful of your ass, squeeze and spank the firm yet soft cheeks, and stroke that tail that invades his nightly thoughts.

Maybe you’d let him dig his fingers into the hole of your pants and rip it further, revealing the cute little panties hiding underneath. Or maybe you’d have none on at all. It would give Aizawa the perfect chance to pull those asscheeks apart and finally put his face in it as his tongue relishes the taste of your sweet, perfect, wet little–

“Mind if I use these?” you ask, suddenly next to him. He nearly jumps, finding you pointing at the eight lb dumbbells that Mic left.

He finds his voice after swallowing the lump in his throat. “Go ahead; I’m not usin’ ‘em.” He hopes that sounds the least bit of kind. You smile in thanks though and silently take the dumbbells from the spot Mic left them in.

He silently and sneakily watches as you begin to do your leg and glute workouts with some dumbbell lifts added in the mix: squats; lunges; kickbacks. All done right in his face.

Do you know what you’re doing to him? Can you see the bulge growing in his sweats? Obviously not since your eyes are facing straight ahead, focusing strictly on your workout.

‘Fuck this,’ he thinks, sexually frustrated. He isn’t going to resort to being a perv.

Quickly, he puts his dumbbells down and walks out of range to the other side of the gym farthest away from you. He walks straight up to the pull-up bar where he left his duffle bag for a specific reason. He usually goes for either cardio or dumbbells first to get his arms warmed up before proceeding with the “real” workout.

Aizawa takes his scarves out of his duffle and carefully wraps them around the pull-up bar, making sure to pull it tight enough so the scarves don’t unravel. Once finished, he wraps his fists up in each end of the scarves and begins to do his special arm exercises.

He uses his scarves as one would use resistance bands to build their upper arm strength, doing warmups to get the blood flowing in his arms. He concentrates on his bicep and tricep curls, and wrist exercises to keep his arms limber yet controlled, sweat beginning to drip into his eyes from how hard he’s going into his workout.

He is finally able to focus on something other than you. ‘Thank God.’

Feeling like his arms are warmed up enough, he grips his scarves into his fists and pulls himself up, his arms clenching from his full body weight. He straightens his arms and crosses one foot over the other as he straightens his back.

He envisions himself on a tightrope, forcing himself to stay still despite his arms beginning to rest since they’re the only things holding him up.

Grunting softly from the burn in his arm muscles, he relaxes his arms only to slowly flip backward, his movements controlled from many years of training. He finally lands back on his feet, bending his knees slightly to avoid injuring himself.

When he releases his scarves, his hands are red and his fingers ache from gripping them so tightly. He’s gotten used to that though. It is what comes with the pains of being a pro.

“That was really cool,” you suddenly say from behind him in the mirror. Your eyes are trained straight on him, wide with astonishment.

He turns around, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat out of his eyes. “Sorry!” You blurt, looking ashamed at your staring. “I’ve just never seen anyone do that before. You work out with your scarves?”

He notices the way your fluffy ears droop in embarrassment and he smirks to himself. “To keep myself familiar with ‘em,” he huffs before taking a sip of his water. “And to come up with new techniques. It never hurts to rehearse from time to time.”

He goes to take a seat on the floor to proceed with some push-ups, but as he does, a searing pain enters his lower back that makes him hiss. You stare on, concerned. “Just my back,” he reassures you. “Don’t worry about it.” The last thing he wants is for you to see him as old or decrepit.

But his body betrays him once again as he tries to get into position, a sharp pain in his lower back stabbing him. “Ah, shit!” he swears, his hand immediately flying to his lower back to rub at the ache.

It doesn’t help at all. He must’ve not done as much stretching earlier as he’d hoped. He glances at you, expecting you to be laughing at him–the sight of Eraserhead suffering from back pain in his early 30s must be hilarious.

But instead, you just look worried. “Maybe you should try this.” You slowly sit down in a crisscrossed position, your feet touching one another, and lean forward so your back is straight and your chest is touching the floor. “This pose really helps with back pain. I do this as much as I can since I sit so much during work.”

Aizawa hesitates slightly, not wanting you to pity him. But with the way your soft eyes are coaxing him to follow, he mirrors your position anyway. As he slowly leans forward to straighten his back, he can feel some of that tension and ache beginning to evaporate. You smile in approval.

“Now stretch your arms up overhead,” you instruct him, raising your arms up to the sky. He follows, doing his best to hide back a blush. He feels like a little kid following your every move.

“Good; now place your hands on the floor and stretch your arms out as far as you can go in front of you. Don’t push yourself.”

He follows you, raising his arms up before falling forward, his arms stretched out in front of him. He breathes deeply, allowing the stretches to do their work. He can feel the tension and aches in his muscles leaving him, his body recovering after his workout.

“Feel good?” you ask, a smile in your voice. He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed. “The butterfly position helps too! Looks like this.” He lifts from his position, finding you sitting upright with your hands holding your feet. Your knees begin to move up and down, mimicking those of a butterfly’s wings.

Aizawa follows, feeling the stretch in his hamstrings and inner thighs. He raises an eyebrow at your smile like you’re trying to hold back a laugh. “You’re slouching,” you playfully giggle, rising from your seat to assist him. His heart begins to hammer in his chest as you kneel next to him. You’re so close.

“May I?” you ask, giving him a soft, round-eyed look.

He nods, unable to speak. You move behind him and place a tentative hand on his lower back. He nearly shivers at your touch. Your hand is so warm. He wants to feel your touch everywhere.

Not to mention the scent of your shampoo. What is that? Coconut? It’s driving him insane. All he can think about is that scent being all over him after he’s done fucking you.

“Just keep your back straight,” you utter, your breath fanning his cheek. “Grab onto your ankles for leverage if you need it.” Your voice is soft and inviting, coaxing him out of his comfort zone.

Swallowing harshly and forcing himself to not pop a boner, he does as you instruct: he straightens his back, puffs out his chest, presses his shoulders back, and grabs onto his feet. “Perfect!” you giggle, applauding him. “You’re a natural at this.”

“So are you,” he blurts, his voice lower than normal. “A-At teaching, I mean.” You smile at the compliment as you rise to your feet. “I used to teach yoga on YouTube as a way to pay for school. I had a dream of opening up my own yoga studio, but I guess my calling was to be a counselor.”

Aizawa commits the new info to his mental file cabinet on you. He can see you being a teacher in anything, knowing you’d do a good job with such a soft yet commanding aura. “I’ve been told my flexibility would make me a great hero,” you snicker, balling up your fists for a mock fight with him.

He chuckles, grunting as he stands. “It takes more than flexibility to be a hero.”

You laugh at his statement, hands on your hips. “You say that even though you have back pain in your thirties,” you retort boldly, then flush with embarrassment when Aizawa raises a brow at you. “I read everyone’s birthday on the faculty birthday calendar.”

Aizawa practically melts. Why the fuck do you have to be so goddamn cute? “Back pain or not, as a seasoned professional pro, I also have strength, both upper and lower, technique, and strict control over my quirk when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. You’ll need it when you’re fighting villains.”

You cock your head to the side, a purse in your pouty, kissable lips. “Show me some of them techniques then,” you playfully challenge, crossing your arms over your chest. “Since you’re so seasoned and so sure I don’t have what it takes.”

Aizawa cocks a brow at you, feeling a zing of electricity shoot through him at this newfound side of you–you’re so playful and sassy. It’s fucking hot. “Alright,” he sighs, “but you don’t complain when you twist a muscle.”

He begins to walk over to the right side of the gym which is known as the training portion of the room. Several punching bags and makeshift people made out of sandbags sit there, ready to be used by any seasoned or up-and-coming pro to train for missions and fights.

Aizawa and you stand in front of a makeshift person, its head and body two heavy burlap sacks filled with sand. He turns to you, stepping into the roles of a trainer and sensei. “So, we’ll start with the basics. Start by facing your opponent and analyzing them.”

You nod and turn to face the sandbag person, eyeing them up. He resists the urge to laugh at your cuteness. “If they have a quirk, what kind is it? Can you spot a weakness in it or your opponent’s body? Can you spot a pressure point perhaps? Maybe a place you can sink those claws into.”

You glance at him, straight-faced. “Ha, ha,” you deadpan. "I don’t even have claws.” Aizawa thinks that’s a lie. He’d opt to find out in his bed (or yours; he ain’t too picky) while he’s balls deep inside of you and your hands are gripping his back.

“So your opponent is coming at you,” he continues, willing the nasty thoughts away. “But you’re ready though. You’ll start by placing your foot on your least dominant side behind the foot on your dominant side.”

You do as he instructs, placing one foot behind the other. “Tilt your hips a little more so they’re angled to the side but facing me.” You attempt to do that as well, but can’t seem to angle your hips enough so they are parallel to your feet. A laugh in the form of a huff leaves his nostrils as he comes forward.

“May I?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to yours. Silently, you nod. “Like this.”

He places his hands on your hips which is a horrible idea. Now his cock is throbbing, begging to be released from its prison in his sweats. Your skin is so warm from the slip of your stomach that he gets from your pants riding low on your waist. Your body is tense, but you don’t stop him as he twists your waist to face him and angles your hips so they are straight.

“Now you’re gonna use your dominant leg to kick up and out, right at your opponent’s chest. Put your full weight into it.”

He steps back, allowing you to act out the move. You turn to your opponent and, with an inhale, you kick your leg up and out at the middle of your opponent’s sandbag body, grunting as you do. It barely moves.

You turn to him with a shameful expression. “Let’s try that again,” he chuckles. “Push onto your opponent when your foot connects with their chest to push them down and away from you. Put all your weight into your leg.”

Once again, you try, letting out a forceful grunt as your foot connects with the sandbag. You push your opponent away, causing it to teeter slightly on its stand, and then fall backward.

You gape down at it, an excited gasp leaving your lips. “I did it!” you shout in triumph, your ears and tail frazzled. He nods, crossing his muscled arms over his chest. “Not bad for a rookie,” he playfully says. “Maybe you’ve got some potential…some.”

You turn to him, a mischievous and bold glint in your pretty, brown eyes. You purse your lips at him and lay your hands on your hips the way he wants to. “I’d say the same about you with yoga,” you retort, earning a chuckle from him and a surge from his cock.

You both stand there for a moment, staring at each other. No blinking. No talking. Just a surge of electricity that Aizawa can feel in the air. It’s intoxicating, dangerous, and so delicious. His eyes glance at your lips, zeroing in on how plump and glossy they are. He could just lean in and kiss you right now.

His phone suddenly goes off in his back pocket, making you both jump. Growling deeply at the ruined moment, he pulls his phone out and finds the reminder he set for 5 PM. “Shit,” he hisses. “I should be cooking dinner around this time for Eri. I have to go.”

“Oh, okay!” you reply, and he catches a glimpse of what he thinks is disappointment in your pretty eyes. Or is that just what he wants to see?

“I should be gettin’ back too,” you say, already moving to gather your things. “You just reminded me that I need to start cooking too before I end up ordering takeout again.”

Aizawa watches you, his heart clenching painfully. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want this moment to end with you. Can’t it just last a minute longer? “I could walk you back to your dorm if you want,” he suggests with a passive shrug. “It’s only safe.”

He keeps his tone tight and easy, but he’s dying for you to say yes. You look at him wide-eyed, shocked that he even offered. The little smile and nod you give him just about fills him to the brim with relief. So you don’t think that he’s a creep. 'Great start.

After you both gather your things, Aizawa collects Eri from the playroom, finding her sleeping on the floor. “Time to go home, puddin’,” he whispers to her as he scoops her up into his arms. She sleepily groans, her head lulling against his chest.

Her eyes then flutter open to stare up at him. “Daddy, why are you smiling so much?” she groggily asks. He shushes her in response.

Luckily, the little girl falls right back to sleep as Aizawa accompanies you on your journey to your dorm. It doesn’t take long, but the last few minutes of feeling you beside him are all he needs. When you finally make it to your door, you give him a grateful smile. “Thanks for walking me back.”

He nods silently, willing himself to say something more. He thinks back to Mic’s words, conjuring up all the confidence he can muster to ask for your number. “Um, maybe we can do this again sometime?” he asks, a shy blush adorning his cheeks. “Just in case you ever decide to you wanna fuck up a sandbag person again.”

You blink at him, alarmingly quiet. He knew he’d fuck this up. It was all wishful thinking. Damn Mic and his advice! “O-Or you don’t have to,” he quickly adds. “No pressure. I just thought that–”

“I’d like that,” you interrupt, giving him a dazzling smile. “I can give you my number or…” You trail off, looking just as shy.

Relief floods Aizawa’s body as he gives you his number instead, his heart pounding as you type his digits into your contacts. That’s all it took, and yet Aizawa feels like he just walked on the moon. “See you tomorrow then,” he mumbles, abruptly turning on his heel to avoid grinning like an idiot at you.

“Shouta, wait!” you suddenly shout. He abruptly stops and turns to face you, finding you to still be standing at your door. “I-I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you weakly say.

He blinks at you, noticing how nervous you suddenly look. His stomach immediately plummets, wondering what the flip in your demeanor could mean. Are you having second thoughts about his number? Are you with someone already?

Finally, you sigh, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “Nevermind; just be safe.”

You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes before you turn, unlock your door, and disappear into your dorm. Aizawa doesn’t have time to ponder what just happened. He silently walks back to his dorm with Eri in his arms and dinner on his mind, expecting a quiet, normal end to the night.

However, when he arrives at his door and spots the little black cat that has stolen Eri’s heart sitting by his dorm door, he realizes that tonight will be anything but normal.

“Look, Eri,” he coos, smiling down at your little cat form as you push your furry body into his legs, your trail curling around his ankles.

“Our visitor is back.”

#shouta aizawa #shoutaaa #smutty smut #my fic shit #my works #here kitty kitty #bnha smut #black coded reader #black fanfic writer #black writers #aizawa x black!reader #shouta aizawa x black!reader

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wantonlywindswept · 2 years ago

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fox & rex ficbit

finally wrote some tcw! whoo.

tbh not entirely sure where this is headed (a lie: i know exactly where i want this to end up, and it is with alpha-17 storming coruscant in a fit of protective rage and also murder) and atm it’s just a lot of exposition ideas because...i still have no real solid feel for the characters?? so i’m kind of working through that.

it is exhausting. star wars fanon you are exhausting. why can my brain not just write with the tropes and be done with it

anyway basically rex and fox are alpha-17′s feral children/brothers/students/?? because all three of them are competent chaos gremlins. set vaguely after geonosis but before the GAR is actually properly structured, bc if star wars doesn’t know what its timeline is then why the hell should i

---

Growing up on Kamino, Rex and Fox had three things in common: a taste for the popularly-loathed blue carbohydrate cubes, an unstoppable compulsion to always be the best at anything they did, and the extremely dubious honor of being Alpha-17's favorites.

Fox was one of the earlier Command Class clones decanted, the eldest of a batch that boasted Wolffe, Gree, Bly, and Cody: possibly the strongest CC batch that Kamino would ever produce. He came out with a massive chip on his shoulder and left his tact in his tube, and made a sport of talking back to every single trainer in the Cuy'val Dar--which was why he once spent two weeks in Medical with broken ribs, a punctured lung, and Dred Priest's bootprints on his chest.

On the other hand, Rex came from a CT batch that was nearly flushed for genetic deviation, and of the original five, only he and Crys made it past cadet training. He clawed to the top of all his training modules fueled by fear and spite, and did everything by the book to avoid any kind of attention that might further mark him as defective: he kept his head down and his mouth shut, no matter what he actually thought about things.

Alpha's ARC training was good for the both of them, in the end: it taught Rex how to speak his mind, and it taught Fox how to shut the fuck up.

"15 - 5," Alpha announced cheerfully, leaning on his training staff without even the slightest indication of being tired. Fox, flat on his back at Alpha's feet, wheezed something that might have been a curse.

"I'm starting to think that those 5 were a fluke," Rex said blandly.

Fox's next growl was definitely a curse, and he lifted trembling hands to sign something insulting and anatomically improbable in Rex's direction.

"Go on, stop whining into my mats," Alpha said, nudging Fox in the side with his foot. "It's time for me to beat the other little brat into the ground."

Rex watched, snickering, as Fox very clearly struggled to keep from offering Alpha a similar insult.

It was good that he was finally developing a sense of self-preservation.

It was just the three of them left in the gym, long after most sane troopers retreated to lick their wounds and get some kind of rest before they did the same thing all over again tomorrow. Even Fox's certifiably unhinged batch had abandoned them after a couple hours of extra training; most of the CCs had been tagged for the ARC classes, but some were taking to it with a little more enthusiasm than others.

Fox peeled himself off the floor, using his staff as a crutch as he staggered to the deceptive safety outside of the training ring. He passed Rex along the way; his encouraging pat on the shoulder turned into more of an uncoordinated smack to the side of the head, which Rex magnanimously decided to forgive on account of knowing he'd probably need Fox's help standing up later.

Alpha was brutal, and relentless, and more than a little bit of a dick, but he wasn't cruel. He pushed them hard, taught them everything he knew, and if sometimes Rex caught him looking at them like he was worried they'd vanish the moment they left his sight, well.

The campaign on Geonosis had been a hell of a debut. They'd lost thousands of brothers, and now they were all on edge waiting for their official postings. There was no telling where they'd end up next.

Fox would undoubtedly be deployed where the fighting was the heaviest; he came off Geonosis with a dossier of accolades and a near-spotless string of victories. The rest of his batch had done equally well--all save Cody, who'd been unwillingly left behind on Kamino with a grade three concussion and a broken orbital bone, courtesy of one of Isabet Reau's battle circles.

Rex was probably destined for something similar. He'd performed well enough that he was guaranteed an officer commission, and he'd been all but adopted into the Command class after taking control of a battalion that had lost their commanding officer. It would be an absolute waste to not send him to the front lines.

Once ARC training was over, once they got their assignments and shipped out, it was entirely possible this would be the last time that Alpha saw them both alive.

With that cheery thought in mind, Rex spun the staff in his hands, met Alpha's grim expression with a sharp nod, and launched himself into the ring.

(Later, after Alpha dumped them both in the showers and ordered them not to drown, Fox gave him so much shit for only managing to win three matches out of twenty. But he also hauled Rex into the closer barracks that he shared with his batch, shoved him into the empty bed, and immediately passed out on him, which was enough of a comfort that Rex figured he could put off his vengeance for later.

Maybe in the morning.

Maybe after they came back from the war, and they could prove to Alpha that he hadn't just sent them off to die.)

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #commander fox #captain rex #alpha-17 #i have the looming sense of dread #that this is one of those fandoms #where i'm going to have to change my mental characterizations from story to story #which drives me ABSOLUTELY crazy #but detangling canon and fanon and personal headcanon is goddamn exhausting #like do i want to write soft family feels?#or do i want fox and wolffe having competitive angry hatesex?#(i say)#(like i have the willpower to bother writing smut anymore)#maybe the characterizations will settle if i write them more idk #ANYWAY #also i have STILL not finished actually watching tcw #what is my life even #cunning and courage

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fishfingersalad · 1 year ago

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big post of all my random rvb au ideas and some hcs, decided this was more reasonable than making like 20 different posts.

Hc the freelancers who die are like submarines that go missing, officially still out on patrol. Florida is the only freelancer that is officially gone from the program. A rumor starts that the freelancers suits are in some way connected to the us states so people think that when florida (state) blew up, so did Agent Florida's armour killing him in the process

(I'm an ace Tucker believer) Y'know how Tucker gets charged child support for a bunch of kids post chorus? I don't think he has any kids outside of Junior. I think a bunch of people who got pregnant post temple of procreation were like shit idk the kids other parent. Uhhhh. Let's just say it was the rich famous planetary hero guy who claims to have slept with everyone. He probably doesn't even remember the people he's slept with. And then Tucker, asexual who has had sex one (1) time and realised he didnt like it very much, is stuck between revealing to the whole goddamn planet that he doesnt actually fuck, and paying a billion dollars of child support.

In an everyone lives no one dies type au I think Donut gets Maine, Locus, South, and Wash to come to his wine and cheese hour and he does their makeup and their nails.

Au where Sigma is just so fucking invested in getting Maine and Wash to date that he doesnt do anything evil. "Agent Maine, I think you will find this course I have signed you up for quite informative" Sigma this is a couples wine and pottery class "Oh look, is that Agent Washington over there? you should go say hi."

Au where Wash and Epsilon bond. It still fucks Wash up and shit, cause yknow. Epsilon issues. But Wash goes like "I am going to fucking kill the director he fucked you ai over so much" And Epsilon is so taken aback bc of Alphas view of Wash from an outside, heavily filtered perspective made him seem happy go lucky, innocent, and a bit naive.

Au where the freelancers find out that the director is Linas dad and behind her back they're all like "hey is she okay? why does he talk to her like that?" but then whenever she's around they just accuse her of nepotism. Gamma and Sigma team up to hack the leaderboard and change her name to nepotism baby.

I love South. I wish she existed more. I wish her and North and Theta could have gotten along. I wish Theta could suit jump like Omega and Alpha. I wish Theta could spend time with South. Like yeah South wouldn't like having to share an ai with her brother but like. He's their littlest brother.

Junior and Theta could autism bond. I think they'd both like comics. Also Junior teaches Theta basketball and Theta teaches Junior to skate. Skateboard kid plus scooter kid. I think Palomo would like to skateboard too. Wash and Palomo both helped teach Theta to skateboard. Wash bc he's friends w North, Palomo bc he's at the skatepark frequently. Jensen roller skates, she's... okay at it. not good. but okay. She broke her tailbone trying to impress Palomo. Andersmith would work at a youth center that the teens hang out at. Matthews works at a movie theatre, Bitters watches a movie there every week, maybe just to see Matthews.

Sarge werebear. Simmons vampire. Grif faun. Donut Light Elemental. Lopez is a ghost that got stuck in a shitty robot Sarge built. Church and the ai are ghosts, Tex is a vampire, Caboose is a werewolf (big doggy :3). Siren Tucker. Deep sea mermaid Junior (glowing octopus type stuff). Faun Kai (same as Grif). Carolina’s a Phoenix. Wash some kind of big cat thing. Florida Shapeshifter (he prefers being reptiles). The twins are demons. 479er is a harpy. York poltergeist (throws stuff at people). Wyoming's some kind of “answer my riddles three” type of imp. Ct is also a shapeshifter. Maine’s just a regular guy with a lot of weird friends. Felix and Locus are a fire elemental and a dryad respectively. Siris is a water elemental. In my au Donut’s a light elemental which makes it so fucking funny if Church pops up and says "boo" Donut just fucking decks him. and through Church being a ghost (a form of light) and Donut being a light elemental, Donut’s fist connects. South is the demon people are more likely to fear, but North is the one you really need to look out for. When South loses her temper people get frightened, when North loses his temper people die. If there's like. a group of kids exploring or something North’ll hold South back from doing anything more than scaring them. If there's a priest attempting an exorcism or someone with a cross threatening South, their organs will be found separately from their bodies.

It's kinda funny when people make Church and Lina siblings and then Tex is just some random girl that Church likes. Like I fully understand why and the only other alternative i can think of is like. Church is the director's younger brother who was raised alongside his daughter after their parents died. and Tex is Allison's younger sister. Only way I could put together Church kinda being the director and Tex kinda being Allison but also Church and Lina being siblings without there being any relation between Tex and Church.

Florida and Ct have a coworker friends relationship i think. When they first met I think Florida said something vague and threatening to her so she pulled a knife on him. They've been sort of friends ever since.

#mikeys rvb rambles #rvb #red vs blue #this isnt even including the ones I started writing fics of #the thing about jensen breaking her tailbone skating #is mostly stolen from real life #i broke my tailbone rollerblading in front of my spanish class #also i love the idea of donut befriending every scary person he meets #the joyful whimsy grind never stops #mine

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quillsareswords · 2 years ago

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omg for #QFWW with a vampire reader bc spooky season never ends, like a date gone wrong or something like that pls

A/N: I really know I've found my people when half of these were for my supernatural reader-characters. More vampire reader in my That Which Bleeds collection! WARNINGS: mentions of blood but no descriptions of consumption, mentions of food, language

MASTER LIST in BIO

“For the record, this was not originally how I intended the night to end.”

He glances down at the massive bloodstain on the front of his once crisp green button down for emphasis. “No? Were you aiming to have this stain a little higher up? My collar, perhaps?”

You glare at him dejectedly. “Not funny.”

He’s smiling anyway. He’s sitting on the curb outside of some swanky restaurant, with this huge dark blotch on his shirt, and he’s smiling at you like you’re finer than every piece of art in the gallery you took him to earlier in the afternoon.

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m sorry.”

"What ever for?" he chuckles.

You glare again. "You're joking, right?"

Against the cold night air, the warmth of his arm wrapping around your shoulders feels more like a space heater kicking on next to you. “You don’t have to apologize,” he chuckles. “It was a good day.”

Well, it had been. You'd spent most of the day flitting around the apartment, finding things to keep you busy while you waited for him to finish with his classes. You'd gotten ready together, and he went down and started the car before sunset so it would be warm for you.

It was all downhill from there. When you finally got to the gallery venue, there was nowhere to park and the valet was nowhere to be seen. There was no choice but to park elsewhere and walk three blocks in your slightly uncomfortable fancy clothes. He'd insisted it was nice to be able to stretch his legs after being stuck in his home office all day, but you know he's still sore from his showdown with Riddler's biggest, baddest goon last week.

Inside, none of the trays walking around were vegetarian friendly. It was all meat, or very obviously coss-contaminated. On top of that, none of the refreshments were to either of your liking. So, two hours of meandering around a winding exposition with nothing to eat and no drink—because why on earth would they offer water?

When you finally finished, with a new piece under Damian's arm (a delightful reimagining of a lesser-known Van Gogh, apparently), it was raining. You'd checked the forecast every hour, on the hour all day and there hadn't been a cloud in sight until tomorrow night. So, just this once, you hadn't brought your umbrella.

Luckily, the artist he'd purchased from was more than happy to hold it for you until one of you could come back and safely pick it up. And neither of you wanted to walk in the rain, so you called over a cab and left the car to sit in a business lot for awhile longer.

Finally, you'd thought things were looking up.

And then the restaurant couldn't find your reservation. The reservation you made weeks ago, because The Stranger is the only nice restaurant in all of Gotham that caters to both vegetarians and vampires.

Fortunately, they happened to have an open table, and because you had the foresight to bring along some proof of reservation (ensuring the entire mess was their fault), drinks were free.

Finally, all was well. Damian loved his mushroom risotto, you were thrilled with your AB+ blend, and it really looked like you'd be able to pull this off.

The whole night was your doing. He'd been so busy with his degree and his heroism and his internship, and you'd been finding a delicate balance between your own school work and playing mediator between any decent vampires in the city and privy law enforcement, while also making yourself a threat against any indecent vampires that didn't care for humanity anymore. You hadn't been able to do much of anything together, especially when he slept for six or so hours most nights and you didn't.

You sat with him while he ate breakfast. You'd sit in his office while you both worked. He'd sit in the living room to work while you chipped away at hobbies or watched something. You'd sit closeby while he painted. You'd lie in bed and read while he slept, because he always sleeps better if you're around. If you're lucky, you may even doze off while you're there. You found ways to spend time together whenever you could, but it wasn't quite the same as getting out and going somewhere.

Valentine's Day was the best excuse to do so. Two whole days cleared on both schedules. One night to stay out as late as he could bare. You'll make breakfast for him tomorrow, and whenever he decides to get up, you'll talk him into watching some ridiculous romance movie he'll roll his eyes at but end up teary-eyed by the end of.

You can practically taste victory, despite all the mishaps leading up to dinner. The waiter is bringing over your second glass. Damian's almost finished. You're almost done with the artichoke dip he didn't like as much.

And then, in a wretched turn of events that you swear only belong in shitty television dramas, the waiter trips. Over thin air or his shoelaces or your hopes and dreams, it doesn't matter. He falters, squeals, and the glass he's carrying goes flying like a targeted drone strike.

Thinned red blood splatters against the wall behind your table and then—all over the front of Damian's shirt.

You could have burst into tears right then and there. Instead, you waited patiently for Damian to assure the sputtering waiter that it was fine, he wasn't angry, he wouldn't have the poor kid fired. Then, you took Damian to the family bathroom and tried your best to rinse out as much of the blood as you could in the sink.

"A good night?" you ask incredulously. "Where have you been all night?"

He raises one hand, the one not touching you, in mock-defense. "I didn't say it went perfectly, my love. Could things have gone a little smoother? Of course. But they didn't ruin the evening."

You finally pull your face from your hands. "Yeah, they kind of did. Case in point," you grumble, gesturing to his shirt.

"I don't care about the shirt," he tells you seriously. "I have dozens of them. I'll buy another one if I miss it. Look at me." His hand skims up the round of your back to the base of your neck to get you attention. It's pointless, because you never turn down an opportunity to look upon him. "I don't care about the shirt. Or the shoes."

"What happened to your shoes?" you cry suddenly.

He laughs tiredly and shakes his head. "Nothing important. Will you let me finish?"

You bite down on your lip as your hand absently passes over your mouth, as if you're subconsciously trying to keep yourself quiet.

"I was going to say, that I don't care about all these little things that happened." He rubs his thumb across the cool skin of your neck, mere inches away from a scar that's never quite going to heal. "All I wanted to do tonight was spend time with you. I didn't care what we did. I did enjoy the gallery, and dinner, and I do appreciate all the time and effort you put into planning all this: but you really didn't have to. I would have been perfectly content to sit at home and stare at you all night. I wanted to be with you tonight, and you gave me that. Everything else was secondary."

The way he looks at you now almost brings tears to your eyes. He looks at you like you're the prettiest thing on Earth. Like you're the only thing worth looking at. Like he really would have been happy to do nothing but look at you until the world ended.

"I just wanted it to be perfect," you tell him honestly, voice as wilted at you feel. "We don't get the chance to do this very often, so I wanted it to be special." You laugh wetly despite yourself. You're quick to wipe away one rogue tear. "Guess I should have known better. We do live in Gotham, afterall."

"That's true," he chuckles. "On the bright side, it still wasn't as terrible as our New Year's dinner last year."

You laugh just thinking about it, like you always do. He knows you always laugh about it. It's a trick he keeps tucked in his back pocket for just these occasions. "That was pretty awful," you agree. "Your brother tumbling through the window covered in blood wasn't exactly how I thought that night would end, either."

He gently pulls you closer to him. Tucks you into his side while you wait for a cab to take you back to the car. "Well, to be fair, I expect most nights to end with at least a little blood. I am in love with a vampire, afterall."

You rest your head on his shoulder and watch slow traffic pass. "I love you, too," you hum. "Even though you are the one who spilled my drink last night, and now you're trying to blame me."

He rolls his eyes."I am not–"

"Oh you so are–"

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne blurb #qfww #quillsfebuarywritingweek #quills that which bleeds

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idontplaytrack · 10 months ago

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Backfired

Capri Donahue x fem!reader(college/living together AU)

Warnings: accidental consumption of prescribed medication, smut- kissing, fingering(both receiving), spanking(reader receiving), use of pet names(both receiving), a bit of degradation(reader receiving). Reader discretion is advised.

In which Capri’s prank on reader backfires when reader accidentally grabs the wrong water bottle on her way out one morning

Requested? Yes / No

Capri’s curiosity was piqued a couple weeks ago when she passed by a rowdy group of guys saying a whole bunch of shit about their friend who couldn’t get it up. And how that guy used Viagra. That guy, was in one of her classes. Before Capri knew it, she was looking up facts about said medication to see how it works, but more so how and if it would work on women. And if it could work on women. After a week of scouring the internet, Capri went up to the guy to ask to buy one off him. Capri thought the money would keep him from saying anything- it did. Besides, it’s not like anyone knew Capri was dating someone.

While you were still sound asleep, Capri woke up early to work out- but also to put her plan into action. The guy told her this was a sublingual type, which she could dissolve in water. Though it wasn’t a sure-thing that it’d even work, Capri still decided to go for it, she drops half a pill into her water bottle after flavouring her water to help with the supposed bitterness. She screwed the bottle shut and gave it a bit of a shake, then Capri drank some of it before putting the bottle down. Awhile later, you were up to get ready for class. And before she knew it, you were ready to go. “Babe, I can’t find my bottle. Can I just take yours?”

She heard while she was on the toilet. Her eyes widened in shock as she scrambled outside to stop you but it was too late. You’d already drank the water. Typically of course, she wouldn’t mind if you used her water bottle. And you wouldn’t mind of she’d used use yours. But of course right now, it may pose you a bit of a problem if it worked on you. “Sure.” She tries to answer as calmly as possible. “Hey, how long’s your class again?”

“Three hours but we usually get to go early. I just have the one class today.” You told her.

“Okay.” Capri nodded, “I don’t have class today so I’ll be home catching up on some sleep.”

“Good for you.” You giggled, “See you in a few hours, babe.” Capri smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek before you left.

Capri could only hope that you could get through your class, feeling the way she does right now, she felt bad she subjected you to the effects of the medication when she was the one supposed to be getting all of it, so that it would come in handy for after you got back from class. She didn’t hear anything from you for the full three hours so she assumed it went by alright. Until you came home and she saw you. “What the hell do you have in your water, Capri?”

Uh oh.

“I was supposed to be at the library for at least two hours after class to study. I couldn’t because I’m feeling like horny fucking bastard.”

“I didn’t expect you to already take a sip out of my bottle. I was supposed to be the one drinking all of that to prank you by hopefully being clingy.” She explained, “I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. That was too much.”

“Actually, it’s about time I let myself relax.” You shushed her.

She arched a brow, squinting at you, “Are you saying-”

“Aren’t you?” You looked at her the same way.

“Alright, baby.” She motions for you to sit on her lap, and you complied. “Do you think I can make you come just with my hands, y/n?”

“I dunno, let’s try.” You shrug while cupping her face and kissing her softly. Capri practically attacks you with a rough kiss and invaded your mouth with her tongue. The intensity of it makes you moan already, since you have been feeling the effects of the water all morning. It wasn’t hard for you to make you feel like you needed a lot more, a lot faster. In fact, her kisses alone had you grinding on nothing as your ass sat on her lap.

Capri laughs, shifting you onto the couch as she instantly sat in a butterfly stretch pose. Holy fuck does she know how to make you feel like a touched-starve little slut. You saw the look in her eyes as she reached down the front of your shorts and started to stimulate your clit. She was very gentle, so as much as it felt good, it wasn’t nearly enough stimulation to make you get closer to your high. However, she was now having her legs wide open to give her own clit some attention while you watched. Seeing Capri biting her lip drove you nuts and you soon found yourself doing the same to take a bit of the edge off. “No, no, no.” She smacked your hand and you whined, “I’ll do that for you. So why don’t you do that for me instead?”

You nodded desperately, giving her a quick ‘okay’ while you reached for her. Her simple gesture had you whining unendingly as your body reacted to let you know you needed more than that. “My god, y/n. You’re so needy, you know that?” She laughs lowly, her hand smacks your cunt causing a yelp to erupt. Which…quickly turned into a cry. The ache you felt while your arousal skyrocketed was terrible- you needed Capri to stop it. To give you the relief your body has been begging for since early this morning. Your actions on her, matched hers for you. But seems to be more in control of herself than you were due to the amount of that specific water that she’d consumed.

“Hear that, love?” She grins, “You’re so wet, aren’t you? Take a look at yourself.” And so your eyes looked down at yourself, feeling more slick forming in that forsaken area. “Don’t stop, baby.” She looked at your fingers that were rubbing her clit as it swelled. You intentionally went harder for a second or two, drawing out a gasp from her mouth. Which sounded like she was teasing you to make her be more noisy, but either way, you picked up your pace and she begins to match up your speed. “Fuck, yeah. That feels so fucking good.” You pursed your lips together. Capri stops suddenly, and you smacked her cunt, displeased. An absolutely obscene moan flew out from her lips, making you smirk. “Who said you could stop.” You locked eyes with her, your actions slowing down. “Do you want me to stop too, Capri? Because…I sure can. And then I can make you watch me fuck myself while you can’t touch anywhere, at all.”

Capri bit onto her lower lit to stop herself from moaning, to not show you that she needed your touch as much as you needed hers. But, she kept teasing your folds, which allowed you find her answer to your demand. “Good girl.” You flashed a smug smile, bucking against her hand. That movement of yours made her moan, like actually- she’d nodded in approval asking you to keep doing that. Well, you did. Anything to get the two of you over the edge at this point. By basically riding her hand, her fingers were pushed way deeper into you and you were having a fucking good time hearing her whining and also the stimulation you were getting. Shockingly, right as you pulled your finger out of her, Capri unravels. She unravels first, whining your name repeatedly. You kept pushing your finger in and pulling it out though, to see just how much she could take before becoming an overstimulated, squirming mess right in front your eyes. When it became harder and harder for her to keep her fingers on your cunt, you take it as your cue to stop while she continues to bring you closer to the edge. Your clit was throbbing, and you beg her for more. “Capri, oh fuck, oh my God- please I-”

“Please, what, honey?” She licked her lips, looking at you up and down, “Use your words.”

“Please…” Tears brim at yours eyes, feeling yourself growing wetter and wetter. “Please, Capri I need your fingers inside me. Please…?”

“That’s my girl.” She got up, kneeling now so she could kiss you while her busy hand stayed working. She dips a finger into you and you gasped, “Fuck. Oh, God. That feels so good, Capri.”

“Does it, baby? That feels good?” She practically spoke into the never ending kiss, as her action became rougher and every time her finger poked your g-spot, a whine would fall from your lips without fail. “You close, princess?” She asks as you feel her finger retreating. You nodded eagerly, bucking your hips so her finger would return to its spot. “Woah, you’re feeling a little bit too eager today, aren’t you?” She teases, biting onto her lower lip yet again.

“All thanks to you.” You rolled your eyes.

“Fine, fuck yourself with my hand then.” She arched a brow, her eyes darkened along with her attitude.

“Fuck. That’s not what I-”

“Say that again?” She held onto your face by the chin, “What’d you mean then? Tell me, or are you just gonna be a needy, angry little slut?”

You shook your head at her last few words, “I already had a fucking bad day, Capri. Please, please- make me come. I need it.”

Giving you a little shrug, her fingers enter you in a pair. “You should’ve just told me that, sweet girl. Now I’ve made you sad.” Capri kisses the crook of your neck, then biting and sucking to leave some marks which drew blood. You seethed, she soothed the areas with her tongue. Then, she trails back down to lap at your cunt, to make you come. She’s decided to give you a little treat after only making use of her hands. With your head thrown back, you felt your climax approach at a steady pace. “Why are you-?” You panted.

“Shh.” She shushed you, “Just let go, babe. It’s okay, I know what I said, but I just wanted to do a little something to make it up to you.” She vigorously rubbed your clit, causing to nearly scream as you reached your peak. You nearly fell onto your back but she caught you. “Shit, shit, shit.” You cursed, “We did not lay a towel-” She didn’t care, simply attacking your lips once again, wanting to hear you cry for her as you continued to ride out your orgasm.

“Oh, that’s so hot, baby.”

“I- oh, god. Okay, okay. That’s enough for today, yeah.” You managed to say, laying down completely now.

“Okay.” Capri presses a kiss to your cheek, “Okay, honey. You’re alright, you’re alright.”

#auli’i cravalho #darby and the dead #capri donahue #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #wlw post #smut #prank #lgbtqia #queer #reader insert #x reader #female reader

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thisantithesis · 1 year ago

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sort of jegulus, just an idea i randomly wrote out at three in the morning. open ending??? pt 1, 1.2k words (pt 2)

Regulus sighed as he placed another book on the shelf, his attention far away from whatever shelf he was restocking. Snow was drifting down slowly outside, the late-afternoon dark grey sky making the library seem much gloomier than usual.

The golden lights cast an orange-tinted hue across the shelves and tables, and the fireplace crackled gently in its hearth against the wall of the lounge area. The combination of both gave the large and ornate room a warm and comfortable feeling, but didn’t do much in terms of providing sufficient light. Each table had its own lamp, many of which were currently being used by students as they crammed to study for their finals.

Regulus would usually be one of the people sitting at a table in quiet panic, spending so much time there that he would surely be the last one to leave, but instead here he was, slowly making his way through the cart of books that needed to be returned to their rightful place.

He didn’t dislike his job. He really didn’t. If anything, it was the best job he could have right then as a university student, what with its flexible hours and low demands. He popped in four days a week, from noon until six p.m., then left and went back to his apartment. It was an easy schedule, one that allowed him to take his classes in the morning and do whatever he wanted in the evening, which was more than a lot of working students had. It’s just that, as he watched the first snowfall of the year through the large windows of the library, he found that he would much rather be outside, letting the flakes land in his hair and touch his skin with little pinpricks of cold.

Someone had once told him that the snow in his pitch black curls made it look like he had his own little galaxy swirling in his hair. He thought about that quiet observation every day.

So, every year when Fall slowly turned to Winter, when the weather started getting colder and the world started losing its colorful warmth, Regulus waited with bated breath for that first snowfall. He always made sure to be outside when it happened so he could let his little galaxy form atop his head and reminisce on what he thought were better days.

Placing the last book on its proper shelf, Regulus quickly put the cart away and steadily walked toward the front desk of the library.

“Ms. Pince,” he said as he put his hands flat on the desk in front of him.

“Yes, Mr. Black?” she replied almost tonelessly, her back to him and her head bent over whatever she was working on.

He steeled himself, not necessarily expecting being denied at his request but still preparing for it. Ms. Pince wasn’t known to be lenient. “Would I be able to leave a bit earlier today? I need to study for my finals and I’ve already finished unloading the returns cart.”

She slowly turned her head towards where he had placed the cart, lifting an eyebrow as she checked the watch on her wrist. “All right. The library closes in an hour, so I don’t see the harm. Will you be here tomorrow?”

The library closed at seven p.m. on the weekends, and given that it was a Saturday Regulus was right to think that it would work in his favor. He tried to suppress his little smile of triumph. “Yes, same time as today. My class ends at noon so I should get here at around quarter past.”

The librarian nodded and turned back to her project. “Have a good night, Mr. Black.”

“You as well, Ms. Pince. And thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.

She simply hummed in acknowledgement and Regulus all but sprinted towards the closet deemed as the “break room”. It consisted of wall to wall shelves filled with ancient and dusty tomes, with a newer addition of a small table, a chair, and some pegs haphazardly tacked onto the back of the door for coats and bags. The room was big enough to walk around in, even with the table, but it was so dusty back there that spending more than fifteen minutes in the room made Regulus’ throat run dry.

He shoved the door open, grabbed his things, then quickly walked towards the library’s side doors. No one really knew about them, given that they were hidden by some of the shelves, so you either found them by looking or accidentally stumbling upon them—which is exactly how Regulus had found them.

He put his coat on as he walked and looped his scarf around his throat tightly, then readjusted the strap of his bag as he opened the doors and stepped onto the freshly fallen snow.

It had been snowing incessantly for the past three hours, and Regulus had hoped it would be one of those first snowfalls that kept going for hours and hours, or at least until there was a decent amount sticking to the ground, and he was glad to see that this year was exactly like that.

Regulus smiled softly and tipped his head back, enjoying the quiet sound of snow falling on his face and the stillness the world around him seemed to adopt whenever winter arrived.

The side doors of the library opened up to a hidden area beside the building, a place Regulus liked to call the Statue Garden. The patch of grass was filled with statues of Greek gods and goddesses, all covered in green branches and moss as a result of the passing of time. Now though, now they were covered in a faint dusting of white, somehow making them look that much more regal.

Regulus closed his eyes against the falling flakes, a serene feeling spreading throughout his chest and slowly unknotting the anxiety that always resided heavily there.

A crunch of footsteps broke through the quiet making Regulus whip his head in the direction of the sound. The thick trees blocked him from seeing whoever was approaching, but soon enough they came into the clearing, causing Regulus to scowl when he saw who it was.

The person continued walking, completely unaware of Regulus standing mere feet away and making Regulus’ blood boil. Why couldn’t he have one moment of peace?

“Potter. What are you doing here?” Regulus snapped, hoping his expression conveyed how unhappy he was with what was happening.

James Potter staggered in his steps as he looked up, eyes and mouth wide with surprise. He looked like he'd seen a ghost—which, to be fair, he basically did. Regulus hadn’t seen James or his brother or any of their friends in almost a year and a half now, not since his birthday party last June.

Regulus scowled even harder at the memory, surely exuding waves of anger and bitterness. He raised a brow when James kept gawping at him, already tired of the conversation. The idiot hadn’t even spoken a word and Regulus was done. That had to be a record.

“Potter,” he repeated, this time more sternly to snap the other boy out of his stupor.

“Oh,” James breathed gently, “it’s you.”

#i might want to write more of it #winter!jegulus hold a special place in my heart #this is just a fun little thing #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #marauders #marauders era #library au #m writes

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ronastudies · 1 year ago

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omnia vincit aequatio challenge ⚖️✨

We have all heard that hard work conquers all (omnia vincit labor)–however, a lot of us have also come to learn that (too) hard work burns out. After focussing on therapy and caring for myself, my body, my psyche and hence letting my productivity and labor dwindle for a long time, I am ready to get back into hard work while keeping the care and mental stability up–the goal is balance, equation, aequatio.

Are you ready to not only put your academic work but also yourself first and find your balance?

I came across this productivity challenge by @work-before-glory, got inspired and decided to start my own. If that sounds like something from which you might benefit as well, whether you are starting out on the overworked end looking for more breathers, on the recovering end looking to get back into the game or whether you have already accomplished balance and simply want to keep up this state–feel free to join using the following tag: omnia vincit aequatio challenge

Since I personally find myself at a point in my education and generally in a field that does not require 'studying' for exams and the like, this challenge was created in a way that also allows those with a full-time or part-time job outside of their academic work (such as myself) to participate, along with those whose academic work consisty mostly of reading and writing.

📷 ☕ 🖋️ 🕯️ ✉️ 🏹 📜 🎻 🏛 ♟️ 🧳 🎞️ ⏳

Here are the premises for each day:

One day per week can be taken off, ideally not a work/job day to allow proper rest.

Aim for 30 days, then adjust and expand as needed and possible.

1. academic work Do at least one hour of deep work (very focused academic work, that is) on work/job days, at least two hours on non-work/job days. Reading should not count into this time. 2. nourishment Eat a nourishing breakfast as well as at least one proper (warm) meal per day. 3. movement & fresh air Get some exercise or move your body every day: Do a workout, go for a walk, dance, stretch. (I personally aim to go to the gym two or three times per week, go to a dancing class and yoga class once per week each, and go outside for a walk every day.) 4. literacy Read at least twenty-five pages per day, ideally on top of any reading for academic work. Write at least half a page, ideally aside from such for academic purposes. 5. happiness knickknack Do at least one small thing that makes you really happy: buy or make yourself a nice drink, watch or read something, spend time with someone–whatever makes your heart do a little happy dance. 6. documentation Log your experiences and accomplishments in a post. Review your day before going to bed in a physical notebook on paper with a pen, no screens allowed here: Ask yourself what you did well and what you could have done better, if you feel happy and balances, and what you want for the next day.

📷 ☕ 🖋️ 🕯️ ✉️ 🏹 📜 🎻 🏛 ♟️ 🧳 🎞️ ⏳

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rustycottoncandy · 1 year ago

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Dude, the improvement that I've made since last year is huge, now that I think about it.

Last year, I'd cry at least three times a week, perhaps four. Daily, even, and there wasn't a week that I didn't cry in class, almost. If there was, it felt really weird.

I couldn't bring myself to go outside for a long time in fears that I'd be looked at or even that I'd walk the wrong way - like it sounds stupid now but I genuinely believed that I walked badly and people would notice that.

I couldn't answer a question in class without ending up trembling before I did and a lot of the time I had a classmate ask stuff for me or say something when I got asked to because it was a struggle to SPEAK with other people.

At the start of the year, I had to ask the teacher to be seated in a spot next to a wall or the window because I couldn't handle sitting in the middle of the class or I thought I'd be looked at and made fun of.

I'd easily break down if anyone pointed out something wrong - even if it was an answer I'd given or just something small that I did (...which I still kind of struggle with but it's not as bad anymore).

I couldn't even IMAGINE being alive at this date, or 2024 generally.

Fuck, my parents didn't even trust me alone at home and when they were here every door had to be open at all times because they didn't trust me, and tbh neither did I.

At some points I even thought I was losing my mind and HEY. HEY LOOK. HEY. IT GOT BETTER. IT FUCKING GOT BETTER I AM BETTER I AM WAY BETTER

SURE I'm still not 100% okay and YES there's still things to work on but I've gotten better.

More than once have I gone outside on my own for walks that may've lasted two hours or longer, when one year ago (technically some months too) I wouldn't even have been able to walk from home to the nearest bakery.

I can fucking TALK to people. Like, normally. I can talk and I can even make jokes and they turn out fine because not all interactions have to be bad yk?? people aren't gonna yell at you if you say hi

I've been able to play the piano and sing in front of a bunch of people. SING. How much of an improvement is that

Sure I do feel like shit every now and then but HEY. HAVE I CRIED TODAY? NO. YESTERDAY? NO. THE DAY BEFORE? NOT THAT I RECALL! WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT THREE DAYS IN A ROW WITHOUT CRYING?? A WEEK PERHAPS?? MORE THAN A WEEK??

THAT'S IMPROVEMENT. AND I'M PROUD OF MYSELF. AND I CAN BE HOME ALONE WITH EVERY SINGLE DOOR CLOSED AND I KNOW NOTHING BAD WILL HAPPEN I'VE GOT REASONS TO LIVE AND KEEP GOING

FUCK YEAH DUDE

#my stuff

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buttonloops · 10 months ago

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About a year ago, I moved into a low-income affordable-housing building.

Honestly? I love it.

Renting a single room by the month makes me feel like a sensible bachelor making his way in the world, some story protagonist who spends a lot of time walking along night time city streets in the rain.

It's the first place I've had that's been wholly mine, no roommates, where I can lock the door and remain perfectly alone for days on end

But I also see a lot of my neighbors. The building is old and well-built, so I can usually hear them moving around faintly, which I think is the ideal. Hearing your neighbors talking, but not what they're saying.

The front desk is staffed 24/7 by residents. Front door stays locked and they buzz you in, which means there's always someone to sign for packages and tuck them safely away until I get home from work.

Also means there's someone to say hi to, going and coming.

I've been thinking a lot about that, "wants to start a commune but won't even put a new roll of toilet paper on" or however it goes.

The idea that community isn't a carefully curated inner circle, but all the people you live and work and interact with.

My community is my coworkers AND the guy across the hall who loaned me the first Earthsea book AND the lady who sits down in the lobby all day long playing her phone games AND the checkout clerk I see every week at the grocery store AND my classmates at the woodworking class AND the woman who talks to herself constantly in Polish AND.

Anyway, tonight I was gonna ride my bike four miles to this queer bar I want to check out ... but i got outside and it started raining.

So I came back in and lingered, chatting with the lady on duty for almost an hour. Apparently her brother has THREE bikes cause he keeps winning them in raffles at work. His wife keeps hoping for an air fryer but nope, another bike.

This, too, is socializing

#sro #affordable housing #meanderings #one room life #social skill up

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scarlctheart · 1 year ago

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❀ *◦ han dong. cis woman. she/her. pansexual. ⇝ hey, isn’t that freya chen? i think that the twenty-eight year old from san diego, california works as an apprentice at the sorceress' dress and burlesque dancer at sweet cheeks cabaret & burlesque lounge, but outside of that people describe them as dimly lit dressing rooms, driving through the city at night with the windows rolled down, flickering and slowly melting candlesticks, holes worn into discarded pointe shoes, and echoing museum halls. i hear they are melancholic & bitter, but they are also known to be diligent & considerate. consider giving them a visit at their home in seal harbor apartments ( basement under maiden alley cinema ) and get to know why they’re called the sacrifice.

-eldest sister of three, radiates big sister energy -trained as a ballerina throughout her life but never got to pursue it professionally -burlesque performer under the name scarlet rouge -polar opposite of her stage persona, is actually pretty reserved -budding seamstress, makes most of her clothes -a bit of a control freak, likes things done a certain way -ran off to alaska a few months ago to get away from her family (and the law lol) -in her black swan era, tired of putting others before herself

pinterest board / playlist

so insecure, so uptight: lore.

tw: emotional neglect, gambling

Childhood:

For as long as Freya can remember, her identity has been tied to her responsibility as the eldest daughter of the Chen family. While her father was busy running his tech start-up, her mother filled her days flitting around social events along the west coast, which left the Chen sisters to look after each other. Though they were occasionally cared for by their paternal grandparents, Freya was always the one that shouldered the responsibility of making sure her sisters, Grace and Elise, were eating well, doing their homework, and generally being good girls.

The sisters wanted for nothing, thanks to their father's lucrative career, but their parents weren't very involved in their upbringing. In fact, the only time they got to spend with their parents individually were either when they were being paraded around their mother's social circles or acting as idle spectators whenever their father had his partners over for poker nights (Freya much preferred the later, since it involved minimal socializing and lots of people watching).

As soon as they were old enough, their mother signed Freya and her sisters up for dance classes as a way to get the girls out of her hair, even for just a few extra hours at a time. Though her sisters only stuck with the classes until they finished high school to humor their parents, Freya genuinely fell in love with dance and continued her training, specifically in ballet.

Adolescence:

As her sisters grew older and were able to look after themselves, Freya felt comfortable enough to devote more of her energy to dance. She signed up for every class and workshop she could find to improve her skills. And when the opportunity presented itself to study at a prestigious arts academy, she leapt at it.

Dance was a respite for Freya. Not only did rehearsals and conditioning get her out of the house (and out of her own head) for long stretches of time, she found that with her Type A personality, she genuinely enjoyed the discipline and attention to detail it took. After college, she was presented with the chance to audition for the New York City Ballet and Miami City Ballet companies.

But what should have been an exciting time for Freya, finally getting to forge her own path and pursue her dreams, came with a crushing reality check when her father was arrested a week after her college graduation for defrauding his investors and gambling away their money. And so went Freya's chance to chase that elusive dream. As the eldest, she felt obligated to stay in California and help her mother sort through the wreckage of their financials while her sisters finished their own studies.

Present Day:

After graduation, Freya took up any odd job she could to help her family climb out of the financial hole they were left in by her father. She started teaching beginner-level dance at a local studio, where she found the unlikely opportunity to dance onstage again and make a little extra cash as a burlesque performer.

Though she was initially intimidated by the new challenge, far more comfortable with the structure of ballet, Freya found that she enjoyed the art form and getting to create and play up a persona that was nothing like herself. Thus, Scarlet Rouge was born, Freya's Jessica Rabbit-inspired stage alter ego.

But her mother was none too happy about the revelation of where Freya's extra money was coming from. Forget the fact that she was actually putting her dance education to use, or that her new gig had fostered a curiosity for making and mending clothes, something that could certainly serve them well. The only thing her mother could focus on was how trashy it looked that her sweet ballerina had turned into a showgirl.

But a girl can only give up so much. Realizing that her life is nothing like she envisioned it would be, Freya couldn't take it anymore. Done with putting her family's happiness over her own and unwilling to give up anything else for them, she took off. The girls were old enough now, had graduated college and started their lives. They didn't need her anymore, right?

As a way to make a little extra money, Freya frequents casinos and anywhere with a billiards table where she might be able to squeeze a couple hundred dollars from unsuspecting patrons. Typical that the gambler's daughter would pick up a few of his tricks over the years. The only difference is, she isn't dumb enough to get caught. Even if it means moving her whole life up to Alaska.

i break my neck to be polite: stats.

General Info: Full Name: Freya Angelique Chen. Nicknames: None. Age: 28. Date of Birth: December 30th, 1995. Zodiac Sign: Capricorn. Gender: Cis woman. Pronouns: she/her. Sexual Orientation: Pansexual. Romantic Orientation: Panromantic. Relationship Status: Taken, crushing on Mei-xie Chia. Alignment: True Neutral. MBTI: INTJ, the Architect.

Appearance: Faceclaim: Han Dong. Height: 5′6. Eye Color: Brown. Hair Color: Black naturally, but she's been dying it red for the last couple of years / lets it fade to shades of orange and pink before refreshing her color. Has experimented with her hair color in the past, but is currently loving the red. Tattoos: None. Piercings: One earlobe piercing on each ear, a conch piercing in her right ear.

Background: Education: BFA in dance, attended prep school throughout her high school years. Occupation: Apprentice at the Sorceress' Dress, burlesque dancer under the name Scarlet Rouge at Sweet Cheeks Cabaret & Burlesque Lounge, seamstress. Residence: The Seal Harbor Apartments ( in the basement apartment under Maiden Alley Cinema ). Class: Working. Ethnicity: Chinese. Language(s) Spoken: English / Mandarin.

Identity: Label: the sacrifice. Positive Traits: hard working, charming, practical, gracious, resourceful. Negative Traits: pessimistic, hesitant, secretive, pretentious, rigid. Quirks/Habits: bites her nails, bounces her leg, will idly stretch and roll her neck/shoulders. Love Language: Acts of service. Hobbies: sewing, reading, putting together puzzles. Likes: floral sundresses, scented candles, beautiful journals, crystal paintings, gold jewelry. Dislikes: talking about her problems, being underestimated. Fears: losing herself, ending up like her father.

#anchorintro

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elaine-abroad · 2 years ago

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Volume 2 Part 1

Week One

Okay…a LOT has happened this past week so this might be long. Tuesday was the first day of classes for everyone. Everyone has to take at least two classes and I’m taking Korean Traditional Painting and something called Visual Journal which I found out is an illustration drawing/creative class. I knew Alyssa and my friend Bianca (from STAMPS) were going to be in my painting class, but I knew no one else. Bianca had two friends with her (Zoe and Grace) and I kind of tagged along with them for lunch. Luckily Grace is in my Visual Journal class so we’ve stuck together since then and I can officially say I have a new friend.

Naengmyeon which are cold buckwheat noodles (that’s why there’s ice)

Anyways the takeaway from this week’s painting class is that my teacher is unorganized because the school is unorganized. There are probably about thirty or so students in my class, and my teacher was very surprised because she usually teaches classes with a max of twenty students. She was unprepared as apparently the school didn’t let her know of the class size.

We found out that Ewha is like UM and doesn’t help out with art school materials. While my teacher could’ve sent an email or message to us before the program, she waited till the first day to tell us we had to buy over 100,000 won (over $90) worth of materials. I don’t know if she saw the unimpressed looks of everyone, but she insisted we could take out/add whatever we wanted. The art shop we went to was in a different area and she assumed we all knew how to get there, but after some communication she said we would go the next day as a class. The art shop was very small and the materials did look pretty good. Unfortunately the man pre-packaged all of our stuff so we basically were forced to take what he put together.

Traditional brushes from art shop in Insa-dong

My friends and I were one of the first people to pay so the teacher told us we could stand outside and walk around while the others got situated. We were only gone just long enough for three people to get drinks, but when we returned to the shop, no one was there. So of course we were all freaking out, thinking they took the bus back without us, but we found out they went to an art gallery nearby. We spent some time there and after a while, the second group arrived. Basically a section of our class didn’t have money loaded on their T Money cards (cards used for public transportation and convenience stores) so one of the Korean speaking students took them to figure that out first.

Extra pics

Class is supposed to end at 11:30 so that we’d have an hour for lunch, but we were still there as the ending time approached. I don’t think our teacher was aware that we wanted to go back, but she eventually “dismissed” us and the first group including Grace and I left. Some upper class STAMPS kids were trying to be the leaders but led us the wrong way and then blamed the map, but we eventually managed to make it back to campus at 11:50. We weren’t very happy, but at least we made it in time. I later heard from Bianca that she and Zoe went to use the bathroom when everyone was there, but when they came out the first group was gone. They chose to take the subway thinking it’d be faster but apparently arrived at 1:15.

Gallery

My visual journal teacher is chill and speaks good English. She’s a children's book illustrator and said she used to work in San Francisco which was cool. 95% of the class is from STAMPS so it was kind of weird when we were all introducing ourselves. I like the class though.

Bottom floor of visual journal class building

Unlike UM though, Ewha has an underwhelming amount of tables/chairs to sit in. It’s become a challenge to find a spot during lunch as students literally sit on every step of the stairs just for a seat.

Here we are sitting on the ground like bums two lunch days in a row

Since Tuesday, I’ve hung out with Grace a lot and she’s just like me. We’re both nervous to use public transportation by ourselves and go into restaurants without English translations or kiosks. So we’ve gotten along pretty well and have gotten food with each other every day since.

We also both like going to the convenience store on campus even if it’s to just get a drink or ice cream. I’m pretty sure the guy that works there knows us by now.

Part of the ice cream collection (I tried my first Melona bar!)

Oh yeah and before I forget, I have a messed up fun fact. So the Ewha campus is a series of uphill and downhill walking which is extremely tiring in the hot temps. Even just the thought of the walk up the hill to the art buildings and then the 6 floors we have to walk up because of the nonexistent elevator makes me sigh. Anyways during our welcome tour, they told us that the reason why it’s such a journey all around is because Ewha is an all girls school. Back in the day when the school was made (over a hundred years ago), women pursuing an education were so looked down upon that they purposely didn’t flatten the land to try to make it harder for them to go to school. The school next to us, Yonsei University, was just like any other school which is why their land is completely flat.

Another fun fact totally unrelated to anything other than Korea is that there are absolutely no public trash cans on the street. I’m really sure why, but it’s kind of annoying because we have to hold onto our trash a lot of the time.

Moving on, I signed up for several Friday field trips. This past week was a Seoul city tour. We took a double decker tour bus around and stopped at a few notable sites.

The first stop was the Namsan Tower, also known as the Seoul Tower. Unfortunately it was a rainy cloudy day so we couldn’t see much of the land below.

It cost extra to get to the top of the tower, but it just wasn’t worth it with the weather. We did go into the tower plaza for a little bit though.

There were mostly refreshments for tourists. At the top there was a wide space with stores and traditional looking buildings.

Korea has a lot of life-size models of characters just standing around shops and stuff. Restaurants and cafes often have animal mascots and sometimes they just throw a statue outside to attract more people. I’ve noticed it around shopping areas too.

Penninah and I posing with Haechi, a Seoul mascot. Apparently he is some kind of mythical lion creature

The next stop was to Changgyeonggung Palace. I don’t know much about the history, but it was built back in the mid 15th century by the 4th ruler of the Joseon dynasty for his retiring father. It often served as residential quarters for queens and concubines. It was a pretty wide space with many buildings and pathways.

Front gate

By the end of this stop everyone was hot, sweaty, tired, thirsty, and most definitely hungry. We went back to where I had gotten my painting materials from for lunch and a break. Insa-dong has had quite a few people walking around both times I’ve gone there. The street shops were cool too and less focused on trendy items.

We all sort of went our own ways for lunch but Penninah and I joined a big group of people for food which made the process much easier.

Spicy beef jjigae (jjigae is a Korean stew and there are many variations)

Go to part 2 because I ran out of photo space for this post

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