#might not be my favorite angle but could still be plenty fun! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnamonest · 3 years

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Since people actually liked it here's the continuation of the modern Xiao camgirl!darling post I cut from the original, as promised, most if it's under a cut. Here’s the original post. I didn’t think people would actually like the camgirl concept so I thought I was rambling too much and cut this part out lol but here it is now!

Tws: derogatory language/female slurs, mentions of reader being a cheater, reader is promiscuous, murder, incel-y mentality (our modern boy would be a 4chan user, look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong) and mentions of upsetting realistic things, this one's darker than the first part. If you're bothered by other modern stuff for being too realistic best avoid this too probably, involuntary pornography ---------- Coming up on one year since you gained your most loyal subscriber, you get a rather... Unsettling request. He has something he would like this month, in fact, he adds a few hundred to the regular amount (he's been saving up just for this) and asks for just the answer to one simple question. What's your name?

Your real name, he clarifies. He doesn't need a last name, nothing like that. It would just... Make him feel closer to you. He avoids using the term "anniversary," even though that's what comes to mind. He also doesn't tell you that he already knows, that this is just a test of your honesty. For someone who's so cautious, you would think you would think to give a fake name whenever you go to coffee shops for them to yell out, or change it on the packages you get. You hesitate. And it would be easy to give him a fake one, yet, you don't really think about it too much, you kinda think about that as an afterthought, what you should have done, but your very real name is typed out and sent before you really process it, and you feel a sort of unease, but it's already sent. No big deal. He can't do much with just your first name, right? If your name is common, you feel pretty safe, but even if it's a rarer one, surely there are other people with it, right? He's happy though. Kinda surprised, really, that you didn't lie to him. Maybe you trust him?

You're not stupid, you know something is wrong, you're becoming paranoid. And you connect the weird feeling to him, bc he goes radio silence for several days leading up to finally taking you. This dude who used to respond to any messages you sent within 10 seconds suddenly... It's like he disappeared? He hasn't responded to anything you send him ever since you said your name. You send him messages saying you haven't heard from him in a while and you're worried... The way you word it makes it sound like you're worried about him, but you both know that's not what you really mean. You're hesitant and suspicious of every guy you meet. You buy pepper spray and start carrying some around, you nearly spray a poor guy who you thought was trailing you, turns out he just lives in your building. He makes note of it. He watched you buy it, and is quick to realize you always hold it in the same hand. That must be your dominant hand, that's an important mental note for the future, since you're more likely to try to attack him with that hand. He'll remember. He has a note in his phone with information like that. Height, weight, birthday, social security number, parents' names, school she graduated from. All in little bullet points. He adds dominant hand to the list. He's not worried at all really. Already watched you struggle to carry packages he could lift with one hand, your strength doesn't cross his mind as a threat. At first he just doesn't know what to say, and that's why he stops responding, he feels too awkward but... He starts to enjoy the weird feeling of power the whole situation is giving him. You're worried, you're constantly paranoid, and it's because of him. Now you finally understand the same feeling you inflict on him, how you consume his thoughts every waking moment of every day. It used to irritate him that you held so much power over him, while he meant nothing to you. Now, the tables have turned. You're forced to have him constantly in your mind, whether you like it or not, just like you are in his. It's giving you what you deserve. It gives him a feeling of significance. He matters, even if it's not in a good way. And he keeps telling himself that once he's all you have, he'll matter even more. He's smart enough to realize that if you're paranoid, you might have mentioned him by username to someone else, so to ensure he knows what to do from this point, he has to sneak into your apartment at night as you sleep. It's so unbearably tempting, you have no idea -- you're right there and so vulnerable. He has to hold himself back because he knows that if he so much as touched you, he couldn't hold back. But it's torture, standing there so close, watching your chest rise and fall as he fiddles with the phone. Even when he unlocks it with your thumb, he tries to hold the phone from an angle to do so, even if the skin of his hand grazes yours, it would be too much. You have a lot of contacts across your messages and a bunch of different apps. You have one guy in your online chat you've exchanged far more messages with than anyone else! Hundreds upon hundreds of messages, and huge paypal cash drops, who the hell is -- oh, wait, that's him. Nevermind. But, to his pleasant surprise, he's the only one of your... customers that you regularly talk to, the rest just have a few paypal notifications or clarifications on your policies, but no actual conversations like you have with him. Of course, that's literally part of your deal, he's literally paying for it, but it makes him happy nonetheless. But as he goes through your personal messages, he finds that you are... in no shortage of options. Like, holy shit. It was kind of expected. You *are* really pretty, that's how you have so many followers after all, but this is a lot. So many contacts named some variation of "DO NOT ANSWER!!!" or "creepy guy that forced me to give him my number at the club", etc etc. Plenty of unsaved numbers texting you to never get a response. You've ghosted enough dudes to make your place haunted. It's... kinda awful, really. It also kinda hurts his heart a bit more than he expected. You have so, so, so many options, even without the cam thing, he's more insignificant than he even realized. ...Well, for now, at least. He'll be significant to you soon enough. And then you seem to have a sort of "boyfriend of the month" deal going on, aside from that. Plenty of male-name contacts whose last exchange is a "don't talk to me again!" message from you, plenty of messages corresponding to the same time as those to your girl friends about how you can't find a good guy and every relationship ends badly. How unfortunate. See, it's because you choose bad guys. You probably go for dicks and not.... well, he can't exactly pull the "nice guys like me" mentality, he doesn't delude himself into thinking he is one. He's lucid enough to realize that most nice guys would not be sneaking into your house and standing over your sleeping body to stalk your phone as they make plans to kidnap you. He knows he would probably fall under the classification of a creepy guy. He's just too far gone to care. Still, he would be so much better to you, he tells himself, not a cheater or a player like you complain about. To say he resents those kinds of guys -- ones that can do the unthinkable and actually talk to girls, let alone successfully, only to be assholes, and yet girls like you still go for them -- is an understatement. You're basically just a slut, you probably ignore all the guys that would be nice to you, just like all those internet forums he reads talk about. Typical.

Well, those forums also make fun of guys like him who pay for girls like you, but he can't blame them. It *is* kinda pathetic. There is one dude you talk to, though, now. Current boyfriend of the month, from the looks of it. You have a little heart emoji next to the name. He knows it's kinda pathetic that something so simple and insignificant sets him off, but it does, makes him pout and grind his teeth and curl his other hand into a fist. It's so unfair. Some dude you barely know gets to fuck you, and you haven't even known him nearly as long as you've known him! He doubts this dude -- hell, any of your boyfriends -- has put in the same amount of money that he has into you. They fuck you practically for free. And that, unfortunately for you, only solidifies his decision. If you're fucking some dude for a month because they buy you dinner every now and then, if we're going by that scale, then you owe him quite a good deal of pussy. Any hesitancy or guilt he had about the whole thing is gone. And he's a little mad. Keeps grumbling to himself that you're just a loose whore, fucking so many people and putting yourself out there on the internet. He wonders if they even know about what you do. Probably not, you probably don't tell them. Yeah, that sounds like what you'd do. Really, you're kinda lucky that someone like him is so willing to commit to you, since you are a slut. You don't deserve it, but he loves you anyway. And you'll probably have the nerve to be ungrateful for it too. Sigh. On the bright side, by some miracle, it would appear that you have not told any real-life people about him, you haven't sent out any hey if I disappear you should probably look into this creep type of messages. But he can't afford to have you doing so in between now and when you move in with him, so, he decides he has to act within the next 24 hours. While he's here, though, he decides to do a quick sweep of your place. Makes note of what snacks and drinks you like, what brand of toothpaste and shampoo and the like you use, so he can buy some for you. Maybe you'll adjust better if you have some of your favorite things. And then, after days of silence, he sends you a message, says it's fine, his internet went out for a few days. He means it to reassure you, but somehow it makes you feel more uneasy. He has everything planned out, or so he thinks. But you deviate from your usual schedule. When you leave work or class, you don't go home, you go somewhere else, first. How strange. Maybe picking up groceries? He follows from a distance. No, looks like you're going out to eat...? Maybe you're meeting friends or family or -- no that's a guy. Fuck. You must have planned this just earlier today, since there were no messages on your phone. It makes a bitter feeling rise in his gut. He hates that he can't get close enough to listen to your conversation. Well, he hates the whole thing, sits there and seethes the whole time. Watches you through the windows in the parking lot, thankfully you chose to sit outside. Feels his eye twitch and his hand clench every time you smile and laugh. It takes way too long. The fact that you split the bill feels like a punch to the stomach too. Shouldn't you be used to taking guys' money? Oh, and what's this...? This guy isn't the picture on boyfriend-of-the-month's contact. Well, well, well. You really are a whore. See, it's a very good thing he's taking you off the market. You're probably a reckless heartbreaker too. He's doing all the other men of the world a favor by taking on such a burden as you. And it makes him feel far more justified in keeping you locked away, since he has every reason to believe, now, that you'd run off and fuck someone else if given the chance. Halfway through, the guy briefly gets up and runs to the bathroom or something. While he's gone, he sees your face fall a bit. And then he sees you look around. You turn your head from one side to the other. Your eyes scan the area. You shuffle uncomfortably and you bite your lip and your eyebrows furrow. You're scared. You feel like -- no, you know you're being watched and it scares you. That makes him a little happy, for some reason. He wouldn't be sure what to do if you went home with the guy, but thankfully you don't. No big deal, this was just a bump in the road, he still beats you back to your building and he still goes through with the original plan. Even better, now that it's even darker outside. If anything, now he's got extra aggression and testosterone in his blood, running over the events in his head and going through some... very forceful and violent fantasies. The message he sent had you uneasy, and it's also how you immediately know what's going on when it does finally happen. You keep telling yourself you're being unnecessarily paranoid, that it's nothing, maybe that guy actually got his life together or got a girlfriend or something. Things like... What you fear, don't happen in real life, that's stuff that only happens in movies and stuff. You keep calling it that or it in your head. That won't happen to you. It's not going to happen. The series of events that play out in your head, scenarios you try to push out of your mind. Sure, in the movies it always takes place in the stairwell, but that's fiction, so you go up the apartment stairwell as always. You're not gonna let a bunch of B-grade old films scare you. And it's always some dude standing and waiting, but that nice young boy that you've never seen before is just leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, he only glances up for a second as you pass by, he's not a threat, you're being paranoid. You flash a smile and a little wave as you walk by, he doesn't return either, just looks back down at his phone. See? This guy doesn't even care, you're being paranoid for nothing, you tell yourself. But as you make the turn to go up the next set of stairs you hear the click of a phone being put on the lockscreen, a few metallic footsteps ringing out in the open hall and echoing, coming up right behind you, but for that split second you expect a tap on the shoulder, maybe he has a question, it's not like movies, it's not like movies, you're not gonna get a cloth shoved over your face and--- Well, it's not exactly like the movies. You were prepared, but it all happens in one motion - one hand grabs the hand with the spray and twists it, making you drop it, the other wraps some material over your mouth. You were prepared enough that you don't gasp in surprise, you hold your breath and thrash, but it doesn't make any difference, you wiggle and writhe for a few moments but can't even begin to break free, eventually succumb to the lack of oxygen and take a deep breath. It takes a few seconds to settle in, it's not so immediate. You instinctively panic and thrash again, but he has a complete iron grip. The dizziness takes a second to set in. He huffs a bit in frustration and says stop moving, it's fine. It's definitely not, but it occurs to you that that's not something a kidnapper looking for any potential vulnerable girl says. It's a poor attempt at comfort. It's someone specifically looking for you. And if that wasn't enough, he says your name. Your very real name. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him after all. But the worst part of it all is that there's not a single doubt in your mind, even in your panic you have the realization, it's definitely him and this is literally exactly what you were afraid of. And it's the last thing that goes through your head. And once he's got you out cold he just takes a sigh of relief. He may have been very neutral faced to you, but in reality he was incredibly nervous. He hasn't exactly made or used chloroform before, our boy is operating on YouTube tutorials here. He's got adrenaline pumping through his veins and carries you with his arms trembling. He's on autopilot carrying you out, but his mind is also consumed by holy fuck I'm touching her she smells so nice she's so warm her face is so close I'm actually touching her-- you get the idea. He feels bad about taping your hands and feet together and putting you in the trunk of his car, kinda. It feels too much like what a really bad person would do to a girl they didn't care about, like he's a trafficker or a murderer or a criminal or something, but that's not true at all. Sure, he's still mad at you for being a whore and all that, but it feels improper, he just has no choice. It's late at night, but he can't risk getting pulled or being at a stoplight and someone seeing an unconscious girl in his backseat, so, trunk it is. But once he's home, to his tiny little downtown apartment (he'll probably be able to move into a better place soon, since he's not paying you tons of money anymore), he takes a quick check to make sure the coast is clear, and drags you out, up the stairs, all the way into his apartment, sets you down on the bed, where you'll be staying. He even washed the sheets and cleaned the place up a bit for your arrival. You probably would not like to see what this place looked like before the five trash bags worth of cleaning was done. He'll probably be more motivated in the future, though, since now he won't be so depressed all the time. And then the adrenaline of the fear of being seen is over, and that's when it sets in that this is real. It's very, very hard to hold back. You're real, in the flesh, he can reach out and touch you with his hands! It feels like a dream. And he realizes he can take this opportunity to do things he would be far, far too embarrassed to do when you're awake. He takes a few minutes to do just that, cautiously reaches out to poke your face, and then run a hand down your neck, your skin is so soft! Your hair smells so nice, he lays down beside you and runs his fingers over it. Puts hands on your body and just lays there in awe of the fact that you're real. He's pretty certain he's never actually touched a human female before now. Everything about you feels soft. Weirdly feminine, which is something very foreign and confusing to him. And he kinda uh... Loses it. Goes buckwild with just taking in every aspect of you. Again, since you're unconscious he can be gross and entirely shameless about it. Peels your clothes off and runs his hands and mouth over every inch of flesh, takes the tape off your lips and presses his tongue into your limp mouth until he's forced to let go to breathe, fingers you and tonguefucks you and sucks on your nipples and your neck. Lays pressed against you and just breathes in your scent. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to fuck you already. But he does jerk off a few times. That way he'll last longer, so it's a win-win. And then... you twitch. Tape goes back over your mouth. And then, you twitch again. And this time, you make a little "mm!" under the tape, you start trembling and he sees you try to pull your hands apart. You whimper. It sounds scared and distressed. He feels kinda bad, but it also makes him hard, and that outweighs any guilt by far. Besides, it's what you deserve after what you did earlier. You tortured him mentally, it's only fair. On the good side of things, you suppose, you don't have to worry about the usual fears one would have over such a situation - you're fairly certain he's not going to kill you, nor sell you. In fact, the bed you wake up on is pretty soft. You're naked and the tape is uncomfortable, but... At least he was considerate enough to give you a blanket. He does care about you, after all. First thing he says is asking if you're awake. Can you hear me? You hesitate a moment, and then you nod. He's a bit new to this whole abduction thing. He wants to make sure he didn't pull a muscle or something with the tape. So... Do you hurt anywhere? Does your head hurt? Oh, right, the tape. He's not stupid either. You have to promise you're not going to scream. In fact, he's angry enough about earlier that he gets a bit meaner than he originally told himself he'd be. If you scream, I'll make you regret it. Understand? You nod, so he takes it off, holding it close in preparation in case you were lying, but you don't actually answer him, you're silent again for a minute, then just ask a question of your own. You're that guy, right? He's silent for a few seconds, there's no need for any clarification. Finally just says yeah. You just breathe again. Silently. Finally you summon the courage to ask him what he wants with you. And why are you doing this to me? And his answer is fairly simple. What do you think? You don't say anything for a minute, and neither does he. He's not good with words, and you don't really have ones for this situation. It occurs to you that offering to pay him to let you go is probably not the solution. After all, this is the guy that's dumped unimaginable amounts of money onto you, you couldn't even come close to paying him back. You figure maybe, after he gets what he wants... well, you get the courage to ask. Is there anything... that I can do o-or... anything that will make you... are you gonna let me go, after you....? And the answer is, again, simple, but the one you did not want to hear. No. He's a blunt boy, so he doesn't beat around the bush, but he doesn't torment you by keeping anything from you. In fact, he's already rehearsed this speech a few hundred times in his head. He just wanted to make sure he's very clear so there's no misunderstanding, and while he likes some discomfort in a vengeful sort of way, he doesn't want you to be too freaked out to where you have a panic attack. He says he's just going to... keep you here. He has the things you'll need. He got your purse with your keys, so he'll even run to your apartment after this to go get some of your stuff. You don't need to tell him which number, he adds, he already knows which apartment you're in. He needs you here, he says. And he makes sure to add that it's your fault. If you were never out there selling yourself in the first place, this never would have happened. If you're good, he can make things a bit better for you. But you need to go ahead and accept that you're going to be staying and that no amount of begging or offers is going to convince him to let you go. He can be nice to you, he promises. A better boyfriend than the others. You just have to be a good girlfriend -- you know, obedient and sweet and do what he says. Just like you always were when you talked to him. Just keep being sweet like that and doing the things he tells you to do. You would argue that the terms boyfriend and girlfriend are not appropriate descriptors of the sort of relationship he's creating, but you keep that thought to yourself. Instead, you ask, How long are you going to keep me here? Which is a dumb question, since he's pretty sure he already made that clear. Forever. -----

There's a double homicide in the area. Takes place on the same night, and the same diameter of knife is used, so police believe maybe the two incidents are connected. Especially because they do have something in common, one girl. She was romantically involved with both of them. The girl in question's apartment has been vacated, very suddenly, and the girl has disappeared without a trace, taking things with her from the looks of it, so police believe she may be responsible, but other than that, they have no leads. A few weeks later, a video circulates all over the internet. Some famous camgirl finally started making porn, apparently. Just one video, but the description (which was totally written by her, it has to be since it's written in first person right?) says something about how she decided to quit camming, so this video marks the end of her career. She got into a relationship, so she says in the description, so she has to quit. It's roleplay porn, apparently, she's doing a good job at the acting. All tied up and gagged and getting fucked by some big-dicked guy holding the camera. He's silent, but she's making a ton of noise, cums several times. Really good acting, the fear and desperation in her eyes looks so real. Talk about going out with a bang. It gets a lot of likes. Tons of comments about how sad people are she's quitting. And of course, a lot of comments say, what a lucky guy.

#.camgirl

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

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Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 7

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Word Count: 4.1K

Due to the small size of your town, you had to drive three full hours to a larger airport with flights that were going to New York, where Levi would board a plane that would take him across the ocean. To say that the car ride was awkward would be an understatement, at the last moment Kenny had decided that he wanted to see his nephew off, so you had to leave earlier than planned to pick him up. Luckily there was plenty of room in Erwin's old mini van for all of you. Your mom drove, Kenny sat in the passenger seat, Erwin and Levi sat in the middle row, leaving Hange and you crammed in the back with Levi's luggage.

Your mom and Kenny were getting along well as far as you could tell, talking about their jobs and holiday plans.

"Hey, why don't you join us on Christmas?" you couldn't help but gape in surprise at your mother's words. Kenny scoffed and shook his head, amused at her suggestion.

"That's kind of you but I wouldn't want to impose." the man said, shaking his head as he chuckled at your mother's words.

"No seriously, we have plenty of room and besides my brother is bringing one of his good friends." your mother shrugged, her eyes still trained on the road. You noticed that Levi and Erwin both had tensed in front of you, trying to seem uninterested in the conversation happening in the front of the car. Hange had both her ear buds in so she was completely oblivious to the conversation.

"Well, it would be rude of me to say no now wouldn't it?" Kenny smirked at your mom who only smirked and nodded in agreement.

"It would be pretty rude." she teased, Kenny smiled impishly at her before turning to look out at the passing scenery.

As expected the airport was bustling, families rushing into the building and cars lined bumper to bumper picking up people and dropping them off just the same. Business men in suits were everywhere, as were recreational travelers dressed in sweats and casual wear. Your mom parked the car and all of you helped Levi gather his bags. You watched as Levi tugged at the neckline of his black hoodie before slinging his carry on bag across his back. Erwin sat his large suit case down in front of Levi, who was dusting himself off. Once Levi was pleased with his appearance you all made your way into the airport, it wasn't long before you had weighed his luggage and were heading towards security. You came to a halt outside of security, stepping aside so you could say goodbyes without hindering other travelers. Your mom was first, she pulled out an envelope and handed it to Levi, a soft smile on her lips. Levi furrowed his brows and took the envelope to examine the contents.

"Think of it as an early birthday present from all of us." Your mom explained as he pulled the flap back his eyes widened and he quickly shoved the envelope back towards your mom.

"I can't accept this." he said as his face turned dark.

"Please, you don't have to spend it." your mom urged, pushing the envelope back to his chest. He rolled his eyes and slung the backpack off his back to push the money into the bag.

"Fine, thank you very much." he murmured as he heaved the bag back over his shoulder. Your mom smiled sweetly and pulled Levi into a hug, he wrapped his arm around her and allowed her to hold him. After your mom let go of him she patted his shoulder affectionately. Erwin was next, he shamelessly hugged Levi who awkwardly patted his broad shoulder, the hug wasn't long which wasn't surprising. As soon as the pair separated Hange jumped Levi and rocked him as she held him tightly. Finally it was your turn, just like all the other hugs Levi only wrapped one arm around you, and the embrace was brief. He didn't hug his uncle, only nodded tersely in his direction, Kenny returned the sentiment and then Levi grabbed his bag and stalked towards the long winding line to get through security.

"Have a safe trip Levi!" Hange yelled, waving enthusiastically after him.

"Don't forget to call!" your mom called, an affectionate smile on her face. Levi simply lifted his hand lazily to acknowledge the two as he got in line. As soon as you were sure that he was well on his way to reaching his flight in time your little group made your way back out to the parking lot to start the long drive home.

Traffic had been horrendous on the way back home, making the drive about an hour longer than it would have been. Your mom invited Kenny over for tea, and to your surprise he agreed. Erwin and Hange already had reservations at a local Italian restaurant, and you would rather be caught dead than spending the rest of your day with your mom and Levi's eccentric uncle. So you texted Jean.

"Want to do homework tonight?"

"Of course, name a time and place and I'll be there ;)"

You smiled at your phone as you typed out a quick reply.

"How about the Cover Cove around 5:00?"

"Great, I think that they have a live band playing tonight."

"Really? That sounds fun, is that going to bother you if we're trying to study?"

"No, I don't expect to do much studying anyway...I'll be too distracted by your beauty."

You rolled your eyes, he's always so cheesy. You chuckled and replied with a laughing emoji and a heart emoji. Not long after you sent Jean your reply your mom pulled into your driveway and parked the car. You all piled out of the car and into the house, your mom and Kenny settled into the kitchen while Erwin and Hange slunk off into Erwin's room to get ready for their date. You retreated into your own room to prepare your things for your outing this evening. You changed into a pair of mom jeans and a white chunky knit sweater. You packed your bag and checked the time, you had about thirty minutes before Jean would come pick you up. You wandered down the stairs to grab a snack, your mom and Kenny were still in the kitchen drinking tea, you'd only seen Kenny a handful of times. Whenever you had seen him he wore a scowl or a smug smirk, but this time he looked thoughtful, and intrigued.

"-so in order to stop the bleeding I had to stick my fingers in the wound." your mom was waving her hands with enthusiasm as she recalled the events of one of her favorite ER patients. A story that you knew well, a man came in with a gun wound, he'd been shot by his buddy on accident while they were out hunting. To stop the bleeding she had stuck her index finger and her middle fingers into the wound. At the time she had only been working at the hospital for about a week, she swears that this event paved the way to her becoming head ER nurse years later. You fixed yourself a simple sandwich and slowly began to eat it, only half listening to your mother and Kennys' conversation.

"Wait wait wait, so you're telling me that you stuck two fingers in that man's thigh?"

"Well yeah of course!" your mother scoffed into her tea cup, clearly pleased that she had captured Kenny's attention. You wondered what Kenny did for a living. Your eyes flickered to his hands, they were slender like Levi's, but they were rough with callouses. He was thin, but muscular, sharp features, cheekbones that could probably cut diamonds. If you were to see him from behind one might think that he was no older than thirty five. But the lines on his face gave away his true age, his eyes were outlined by crows feet and dark puffy bags. His beard was scraggly and reminded you of the way that the Amish men wore their beards. You were startled when your mother stood and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone with Kenny.

"Take a picture it will last longer." Kenny drawled as he dunked his tea bag in and out of his cup.

"I'm good." you squeaked, a wave of embarrassment crashed over you, a bit ashamed at being caught. He made no move to continue the conversation but you were still to curious about why Levi despised him so much.

"Your mom makes a mean earl grey." Kenny's deep baritone filled the silence once again taking you by surprise.

"She does." you agreed, you glanced at the clock, only ten more minutes. Kenny watched you disappear up the stairs, an amused smirk spreading across his lips. He was no fool, he knew that you were apprehensive of him, most likely due to what your big brother and Levi had told you about him. And you would be right to be weary around the older man. When you returned down the stairs, your mother had already returned, she was showing Kenny a small container of screws. The screws were once in Erwin's knee, from when he had injured himself playing lacrosse back in middle school, that was a good story. You didn't want to interrupt them so you didn't say goodbye as you passed. Jean was just pulling up your driveway as you walked out the front door, loud music blaring out of his speakers. You jogged up to the passenger side and hopped in, he had turned down the music and twisted in his seat to face you. You tossed your bag into the back seat and turned to face him. Jean reached across the center counsel and cupped your cheek a fond smile on his lips.

"Hey." you giggled, a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach when you noticed that he was staring at your lips.

"Hi." he whispered as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss and he rubbed his thumb over your jawline. You brought your own hand up to run over the back of his neck, twisting in the seat to get a better angle in the kiss as you dipped your tongue into his mouth. Jean brushed his tongue along yours, you groaned into his mouth, another dopey smile passing over your features. Suddenly there was a loud thump on your window and you jumped away from Jean with a loud smack as you broke the kiss. You weren't surprised to see Hange with her face pressed against the window and her hands splayed out over the cool glass. The window was now fogged as she breathed heavily onto the glass and you slumped back into your seat, covering your face with a hand. Jean turned to face forward and placed both hands on his wheel in an attempt at innocence. Erwin hovered behind Hange, a frown on his face as he tugged on her shoulder to rip her away from the car. He brought two fingers to his eyes and then pointed them at you in an 'I'm watching you' gesture as he tugged Hange towards his mini van.

"Where are they going?" Jean asked as they walked off.

"Antonio's I think." you answered as you pulled your seat belt on.

"They're really dressed up." Jean noted as he watched Erwin adjust his tie as he held the car door open for Hange. Erwin wore a classy black suit with a black tie, Hange wore a deep purple silk dress that clung to her curves and ended around her mid thigh. You nodded as you watched Erwin shut the door and walk around the car to the drivers side.

"Sure are." you responded as you turned to smile at him. Jean hummed as he shifted the gear to drive and turned around after Erwin pulled out. Jean held his hand out for you which you gladly accepted. Luckily the ride wasn't too long, the town was dark except for the bright light emitting from the Cover Cove. The modest store was a secondhand book shop that doubled as a cafe. The small establishment happened to have a stage in the corner, which they used on the weekends, Fridays was slam poetry night, Saturdays was rock, and Sundays were usually jazz. Jean parked on the street and the two of you quickly gathered your things and hustled into the shop. You had to admit that you didn't come here often, so you were surprised to find out that the shop had managed to purchase the building next to them and knock out the wall to obtain more space. The book shelves that had previously occupied the majority of the space, were now all pushed to one side of the shop to your left. This opened the front of the shop up for seating, an assortment of antique tables and mismatch chairs gave the room a certain flair. The back of the shop was where you ordered drinks or food, a lone barista was manning the counter. You smiled when you recognized Marco, Jean squeezed your bicep as you weaved through the tables to reach the back to order.

"Hey guys how's it going?" Marco chirped as he pumped a syrup into someone's drink.

"Oh not too bad." Jean shrugged as he leaned against the counter, you copied him as you watched Marco finish the order he was working on.

"I didn't know you worked here." you stated with a smile as you watched Marco place the drink on the counter for the customer to retrieve.

"Yeah, it's nothing special I just work weekends." Marco gushed, a blush spreading up his neck and onto his freckled cheeks. Jean scoffed and shook his head at Marco's words.

"Oh come on nobody is crazy enough to only work weekends at a freakin book store." Jean smirked at Marco who rolled his eyes and turned to make another drink.

"At least I'll have some extra cash to spend over the summer." Marco jabbed, a playful smile on his face.

"He's right about that." you agreed with Marco and covered your mouth to hide the smile that was spreading over your face.

"Can't argue with that." Jean smiled at you and gently grabbed your wrist to pull your hand off your face. You looked down sheepishly as Jean rubbed his thumb over your pulse point on your wrist.

"Oh get a room you two." Marco scolded and made shooing motions towards you.

"Can it freckles." Jean chuckled, slipping his hand into your own. The two of you wandered to one the back tables, you draped your coat over the back of the seat and dropped your bag onto the ground. The sound of soft jazz music drifted through the air as the band of older gentlemen played on, the shop was mostly empty except for a few older people who had come to support the small band. Jean watched you pull out your laptop and begin to scroll through emails, he pretended to read his book for English. His eyes were trained on you as you chewed on your lip as you opened an assignment, he noticed how nice your hands looked as you typed, and how your jaw clenched and unclenched as you worked. You paused, lifting your gaze from your laptop and pursing your lips when you caught Jean staring.

"Getting anything done over there?" you mused as he looked down at his book, he shook his head and chuckled.

"No I can't say that I am." he smiled sheepishly as he drummed his fingers on the book.

"Shame." you shrugged and turned your attention back to your work with a smug smile, Jean gasped in mock hurt.

"You could at least give me a hand." Jean huffed as he waved his book in the air. You tilted your head in an attempt to read the cover. Their Eyes Were Watching God a great read, one of your favorites.

"Hm I dunno, if I do it's going to cost ya." you teased as you turned to work on your own homework once more.

"I'll do anything." Jean groaned, he stretched his leg out to brush against your own underneath the table. You kicked his leg in response as you continued to type, Jean sighed and slumped back in his seat. The two of you lingered in the shop until Marco began wiping down tables, sometime around nine o'clock in the evening. You left the shop, promising to come by more as you ducked out into the dark street. Jean and you playfully bumped your shoulders as you walked down the quiet street towards his car, snow crunching underfoot. He opened the door for you and you thanked him. He drove you back to your house, which was already dark, you assumed that your brother was still out with Hange and your mom was probably in bed. Jean parked his car and sighed as he turned to face you.

"Want to come in?" you asked, more out of courtesy than anything. Jean shook his head and tapped his hand against the steering wheel.

"I would but my mom is expecting me.." he blushed as he confessed, you smiled appreciating his honesty. You knew that he was usually embarrassed about his relationship with his mom.

"No that's totally fine, maybe some other time." you smiled as you leaned over to give him a peck on the lips. He smiled and slid his hand up the column of your throat as he kissed you deeper. You pulled back before it could get too spicy, a playful glint in your eye as Jean pouted.

"Another time." Jean agreed, shooting you a dazzling grin. You reached into the back seat for your bag before you opened the door and walked briskly to the house. Once you had entered safely Jean began to pull out, he honked his horn as he disappeared down the drive. You smiled after him and kicked off your shoes. You tiptoed through the house, the dated wood floors creaking under your weight as you crept up the stairs, pausing halfway up. You looked down at the dark living room, the moonlight seeping through the large windows and casting the room in a pale glow. As your eyes scanned over the space you remembered all of the memories that you had in this house, the people that you shared those memories with. But at the end of the day that was all they would be, memories. People change, they grow, that's what life is all about. Every person you meet will eventually slip away and before you know it they are a stranger.

Your stomach flipped when you imagined all the ways that Paris could change Levi. You had seen it before, one of your best friends spent two full months in Switzerland and Italy with her extended family. The girl that you knew, the girl pre Europe, had never tainted her body with alcohol or any other substance. Not that doing so was bad, it just wasn't the kind of person she was, never one to give into such temptations. When she returned at first glance you wouldn't notice the difference. She told stories of the people she had met and the fun day trips she had taken. While over seas she had pierced her bellybutton, it looked good. She had also gone to some parties with her cousins.

When she mentioned the parties it almost seemed as if she had slipped up, her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. Your friends begged for details, only being freshmen in high school you were all fresh to the party scene. She always came up with a way of changing the subject. You noticed that after the parties were mentioned she would slip into the background of your conversations, folding inward on herself. You hated it, she never did that before. You never found out why she avoided the topic, because only a few months after she returned you and the rest of your friends fully immersed yourselves in the party scene, and she did not follow.

You lost track of her after that year, she went off the grid and moved away, your friends joked that she went back to Italy. You clenched your fist around the banister, bringing you back to the present. That wouldn't happen to Levi, you wouldn't let it. Besides, you were probably just being overdramatic, it was only a month. You let out a shaky breath and continued your climb up the stairs, you felt like a ghost as you wandered down the hall to your door. Once you had reached your room, you slowly closed the door and dropped your bag. You curled your fingers around the hem of your sweater and pulled it over your head. Next you unbuttoned your jeans and shimmied out of them, you fell onto your bed and moaned into your pillow. You glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand and frowned, it was nearing ten and there was still no sign of Erwin or Hange. Just as soon as the thought had crossed your mind you head the front door open followed by the sound of the couple kicking their shoes off and hanging up their coats. The floorboards creaked as they climbed the stairs, you waited for the sound of Erwin's squeaky door opening, but it didn't come.

"Have you heard from Levi yet?" Hange's voice was soft, almost concerned.

"Yeah actually, just as we were paying he texted me." Erwin's voice sounded heavy with exhaustion.

"That's good." Hange mumbled, you sat up in an attempt to hear more.

"Yeah, I hope that he is able to make a decision after this month." Erwin sighed, the floorboards creaked followed by a dull thump. You knew that Erwin was leaning against the wall, and Hange was probably shifting her weight like she does when she's nervous.

"Me too, I think that this trip will be really good for him." Hange affirmed, the rickety floors creaking loudly as she began to pace. You drug yourself to the edge of the bed, ready to get up and poke your head out the door to ask them what they were talking about. Just as your feet touched the cold ground Hange's pacing stopped.

"Look at me Hange. He will be fine." your brother's voice was firm.

"I know, I just..." Hange sniffled and your own eyes filled with tears.

"I just want to be there for him." she choked out, a tear rolled down your cheek, Hange never cried, especially not over Levi.

"So do I but this is the best way that we can be there for him at this time."Erwin reasoned, Hange sniffled and hiccuped a few times before you heard their footsteps retreat towards Erwin's room and you heard the sound of his door swinging open and then closed. Okay, maybe you weren't being dramatic. You stood up and staggered to your bag where your phone was, you pulled it out and unlocked it with shaky fingers. You tapped on your messages, ignoring Jean's good night text and Armin's asking for your weekly schedule for studying. Mikasa had sent you a recipe, Sasha and Connie had been sending you stupid tik toks all weekend. You typed in Levi's name, his contact popping up immediately. You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the picture of his grumpy face before you opened the message and stared at the blinking cursor. Great now what were you supposed to say.

I miss you

Don't change

How was the flight?

Forget me already?

Has it been a month yet?

You scrunched your nose in disgust as you ran through your options. All of them made you sound like a crazy bitch. You pinched the bridge of your nose and stared at the blank conversation. You usually deleted your messages, not that you had accumulated many messages with Levi anyway. How could you show Levi that you were thinking about him without it sounding too deep? A crude joke? Yes that would do, something to do with shit.

"Hope all this traveling doesn't throw off your bowel movements."

You cringed but still pressed send before you could overthink the message. You shut your phone off and slammed it onto the nightstand, your cheeks flaring with hot embarrassment. You made yourself busy by changing into an old hoodie and sliding underneath the covers. You heard your phone ding but made no move to see who texted you. Tomorrow was Monday and you needed to wake up early, he would have to wait until tomorrow, it was only fair. After all, he was making you wait a whole month. He could wait one night. With that you rolled over and snuggled into your covers, your eyes heavy with sleep which you welcomed gladly.

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leiawritesstories · 3 years

Text

Protector, Defender

Rowaelin Month, day 17.

The story I had planned for this prompt decided to fight me. So, enjoy a snippet/first look type of thing. This may or may not become a multi-part fic.

Warnings: I actually don’t think this bit has any. Language maybe.

~~~~~

It is just past three in the morning. An icy breeze whirls through the streets, cutting into the man’s nondescript black jacket. He burrows himself deeper into his multiple layers of clothing, rubs his gloved hands together to keep them functional, wriggles his feet in his sturdy boots. His eyes scan every angle at all times, alert despite the late hour and his constant suppressed wish to go to bed.

In his line of work, sleep happens only when allowed.

The barely-there scuff of a footfall in the January snow has him whirling with feline silence in the direction of the sound, finger instantly curling around the holster at his hip.

Fuego to Buzzard, Fuego to Buzzard. Stand down, I’m not a threat. He nearly jumps at the unexpected voice in his ear.

Buzzard to Fuego, Buzzard to Fuego. I presume the footfall was you announcing your presence rather than appearing and giving me a heart attack?

Don’t be so put out that I’m the only human who can sneak up on you.

Status, Fuego?

All clear north and east, Buzzard. Status south and west?

No signs of activity.

Excellent.

A new voice enters the comm channel. Lion to patrol. Taking north and east now.

Fuego to Lion. Stay awake.

And another. Hades to Buzzard. Taking south and west now.

Buzzard to Hades. Keep warm.

Lion to Fuego and Buzzard. Go get some sleep.

Roger that, Lion.

His relief offers a nod of camaraderie as he takes up the post, ever alert, ever on guard against all possible threats to the royal family.

Inside the security wing of the royal estate, he stomps the crust of icy snow off his boots, hangs up his winter gear and Kevlar layer. Impulsively, his eyes, a shock of forest green against the tan of his skin, scan the mudroom, landing on his shift partner removing her protective layers with efficient precision.

“There’s really no need to stare, Buzzard, you see plenty more than this during training,” Aelin teases in that throaty voice of hers.

“I’m not staring,” he blurts, his words too rushed to be true.

She chuckles, pulls a soft blue sweater over her dark thermals, pats his strong shoulder as she leaves. “Yes, you are. Means you’re tired, so go get some sleep before training.”

She’s out of the room before he can sputter a reply.

And what bothers him the most is that she’s right.

So he trudges back to his room, flops onto his bed, and is asleep within minutes.

The alarm buzzes far too early for his liking. Goddamn Captain and his goddamn debriefings, he thinks as he hauls ass out of bed and into presentable clothing. On autopilot, he heads downstairs, taps his ID against the secure doors to the security complex, and enters the main conference area. The unit captain, standing at the head of the table, cocks a brow at him.

“Long night, Whitethorn?”

“And then some, but you damn well know it, Captain Schedule-Maker.”

Captain clicks his tongue, smirking. “Is that any way to address your superior?”

“Oh, piss off, Ilnair, you know I could take you any day.”

The captain chuckled. “All right, Rowan, I apologize for that shift, I know it was the worst to pull.”

“But you don’t see me complaining, and I pulled the shift too,” Aelin remarks.

“Ah, good morning, my favorite femme fatale.”

“Shut the hell up, Cass, it’s too early for your stupidity.”

The captain pretends to look affronted, then he turns his attention to the room, where he and the fifteen members of royal security who aren’t currently on duty are gathered.

“Good morning, everyone. Just the usual today. I’ll wait no longer than five minutes for His Royal Tardiness to climb off his wife and get his royal arse down here before I actually go into today’s details. Anyone here think it’ll be five minutes?”

Not a single hand goes up.

Naturally, the king chooses that moment to enter the room, rumpled and half-awake as per usual.

The entire team smothers giggles as they stand in deference, as is protocol.

“Sit down, sit down, you still don’t have to be suckups.” He waves a hand at the room, slumps into his chair at the head of the table. “Right, Cass, spill.”

“So terse today, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t pay you to be a smartass.”

Cassian snorts. “Let’s get started, people! Shift changes in three hours. I have Team Beta scheduled to go on outside rotation then. Team Delta, you’re taking audience hall duty. Team Alpha is currently outside. Team Gamma is monitoring the family and guest wings. As for the rest of you…what have I got in store?” A smirk slips across his face. “Cadre!”

“Yeah?” chorus eight voices.

“Y’all are pulling personal detail.”

The eight glance at each other. “Who’s with whom, Captain?”

“Hades and Buzzard, you’re with His Royal God Complex here. Sunbeam and Moonbeam, you’re with Hera. Dwarf and Rover, you’re with Hercules. Lion and Fuego--” he shoots them a very large and wicked grin--“Deathless is arriving today. You’re with her.”

Gavriel raises his eyebrows at Aelin; she nods back. He grins a shit-eating grin. “We’ll take that assignment with pleasure, Cap. You just keep out of her pants and we won’t have any problems.”

Aelin slaps Gav a high five.

Everyone else is in various stages of laughter.

The king, meanwhile, just smirks at his head of security. “He’s not wrong, brother.”

“Rhysand Matthieson Selvari, need I remind your team what I regularly hear you call your wife?”

“You forgot my titles, Captain.”

The captain flips off the king, who chuckles and rises from his seat. “As fun as this has been, I’m afraid I do have a schedule to follow, and that schedule dictates that I primp for a good hour at minimum before holding court.”

Everyone else stands, gathering into teams for the day. Rowan and Lorcan trail the king as he strolls out of the room, bracing themselves for whatever the hell might happen.

After all, the life of a royal bodyguard is ever unpredictable.

#rowaelin month #day 17 #bodyguards #crossover?#fic preview #my writing

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Text

TFA Bulkhead/Bumblebee

Bulkhead, hoping to paint Bumblebee, finds a number of unexpected hurdles in the form of a willing but very fidgety model.

Got a lovely commission that the commissioner was okay with me sharing, so here it is! I had so much fun writing this, and remember, I'm always open if you'd like a fic for yourself.

Working up courage wasn't something one had to do often when they were as big and strong as Bulkhead, but he'd needed every bit he could spare to approach Bumblebee with what he'd feared was a ridiculous request. The fact he could expect his friend to say yes had brought him little comfort, because being rejected just scared him too much. He didn't want to admit how long it had taken him to prepare…

But finally, the day had come, and he approached the little bot as one might an armed explosive.

"Uh… Bumblebee?" he spoke softly, tapping his big servos together to try and call himself down. Bumblebee was relaxing and watching something on TV, and Bulkhead was so nervous he couldn't even tell what. Primus, he was just grateful they were alone, or else this would have been impossible! Bumblebee thankfully noticed him right away, lifting his helm to look at his friend with a smile.

"What's up, Bulk?" he said in greeting, half turning back to the television before doing an actual double take back to the big bot. Concern crossed his features, and he raised a curious brow ridge before he spoke again. "You feeling okay?"

Bulkhead realized just then that his nervousness was probably showing through like a beacon, and he gulped in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to disappear on the spot. Just his luck that things would already be going poorly… Steeling himself, he took a deep vent and put on the biggest smile he could manage. "Yeah, f-fine!" he gasped out, trying not to tremble. Wishing he'd written down what he wanted to say, he just managed to put some words together and speak, hoping he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt. "I just wanted… wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah?" Bumblebee asked, expression not changing once. Near to collapsing, Bulkhead soldiered on, wondering with every word if he'd made a huge mistake.

"Well you… you know I've been painting a lot lately, and I was wondering…" he gulped again, closing in on the final thing he'd come to ask and hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake in the process. If this worked, it might just be the happiest day of his life…

"I'm kind of tired of painting trees and flowers… could I paint… you?" he asked, not even waiting for a reply before he clarified extensively. "Paint a picture of you, I mean! Like… would you want to model for a painting? That's… what I meant…"

"Oh, model?" Bumblebee repeated, optics lighting up like a supernova as he repeated the word. Bulkhead felt relief like nothing he'd ever experienced wash over him as the question got exactly the answer he hadn't dared to hope for, enough so that he struggled to stay standing as he sighed. Bumblebee hopped upright and stretched, lean little frame already eager to get moving as he stepped beside his much larger friend. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Yeah, sure!" Bulkhead said with enthusiasm, trying his hardest not to cry a few happy tears at the turn of events. Moving as fast as he could, he followed Bee to his room, where all of his supplies were waiting for them in the unlikely event this worked out. The big bot had done everything in his power to get all the paint and brushes he would need if Bee said yes, so hopefully he did indeed have enough, or at least what he'd require to get started. He'd gotten so many shades of yellow…

When they arrived to his room, he briefly scolded himself for not fixing it up better, not that Bumblebee ever bothered to clean his own room, but he wanted to be a good host.

Pointing to the smushed couch he sometimes liked to relax on, which was also in a good spot for lighting, he tried to ensure he was calm despite his still fluttering nerves. "You can, uh, pose however you like. How about there?"

"Sure, sounds fun!" Bumblebee replied, quite enthusiastic as he hopped on over. Not minding that the furniture was beyond lumpy, he began finding a comfortable way for his frame to lay, moving his tiny self about as Bulkhead got everything ready. Trying not to blush at how happy he was, the big bot grabbed a spare canvas and his favorite cans of paint, along with a few brushes in his size. Someday he'd have to properly thank Sari for introducing him to art, and being kind enough to provide tools in his size as well. When his easel was in place, he looked up to see Numb laying himself over the couch and grinning in his usual goofy way. "Paint me like one of your French bots, Bulkhead…"

Even if he hadn't been so distracted by what he was feeling, the big bot would have had no ability to make sense of what he'd just heard. All he could manage was a one word reply of total bafflement. "...What?"

"It's a… a human quote. I don't get it either." Bumblebee mumbled in reply, likely referencing some movie he and Sari had watched together at some point. Not wanting his friend to feel awkward, Bulkhead happily helped the conversation continue, smiling as he grabbed a brush.

"Oh, well um… how about we start small? Just sketches and stuff, you know?" he offered, trying to think of the best way to proceed. It was hard to plan much of anything when he was this happy, especially because he didn't want Bee to know how he felt, in more ways than one. He had to keep going as if this was just a casual thing, and not something that really meant the world to him.

"Works for me, just don't forget to get my good side… which is all of me." Bee said proudly, striking a pose and grinning as he did so. It was a perfectly in character position, so Bulkhead got to work right away, carefully articulating his large digits to control the brush. While small mistakes were just part of the process for painting, he didn't want to make one here. This piece was going to be perfect, so every stroke had to be the same, and thus his digits had an almost vice-like grip. It didn't escape his attention how few bots got to pursue their greatest wish like he was doing now. Keeping his smile to himself, he cast his optics to Bumblebee and back to the canvas, wanting to have the perfect grasp of scale before he began. Having a friend with such particular proportions wasn't going to make this any easier.

Sticking with the core of his muse, he made a few careful strokes to get the basic gist of his friend's pose, hoping to capture both his sense of excitability and his current relaxed mood. It would be hard, but he was more than up for the challenge. This would be worth every last second of work...

"Actually, hang on, my arm looks better like this."

Bumblebee surprised him with the words and the sudden movement he made to match, his arm swinging about to rest almost opposite to its original pose. As he hadn't yet started drawing that particular spot, Bulkhead let it go, having expected a little bit of restlessness. It was also only fair that Bee liked the final result and was comfortable with the process. Getting back to work, the big bot wondered if his friend's face might be a good place to start. His horns certainly added an additional detail for him to take into consideration… Perhaps he'd ask if Bee wanted his face to be more in profile or at an angle. All he wanted was to capture the essence of the bot he was so close to.

Bumblebee coughed, optics looking about bashfully as he blushed and shifted on the couch to move his other arm. It wasn't a big move, but the small bit clearly realized it was inconvenient, and looked guilty for the move. "Need to change this too, it's not working. This look better?"

"Oh uh… yeah!" Bulkhead replied quickly, uncertain how he should respond beyond acceptance as the last thing he wanted was for this to be uncomfortable for either of them. Some small changes would need to be made to what was already on the canvas, but that was hardly a bother. Getting more paint on his brush, he tried to work a little faster as he got the bottom layer established. Not that he didn't trust Bee to keep his word, but the little bot often fidgeted without even meaning to. Sticking out his glossa in concentration, Bulkhead worked fast, using up a fair amount of paint as he got what he presumed to be the core of the piece. Next would come the much tricker details…

Or at least they would have, if he hadn't glanced up to see Bumblebee in a completely different pose and half asleep...

"Bumblebee?" he said on reflex, coughing to try and gain his friend's attention. Startling awake, the little bot looked around in surprise, seeming to have forgotten exactly where he was and what was going on. When recognition dawned on his features, embarrassment wasn't far behind. A light blush lit up his cheeks as he shrunk down on the couch.

"Scrap, sorry, wasn't thinking." he apologized, trying to remember how he had originally been posed and failing to do so. Bulkhead felt a bit of frustration stirring, but he kept it well under wraps. Just because this wasn't going according to plan, didn't mean he was going to give up.

"That's okay! Just… need a new canvas." he said, keeping his smile even if he was a little more flustered. With a little bit of white paint he could salvage the canvas and use it later for something else, plus it wasn't like Sari didn't provide him with plenty of supplies. Getting set up all over again, he looked back to Bumblebee, who was once again settled in what appeared to be his position of choice. Hoping to begin in earnest, he was careful as could be when he broached the question on his mind. "Is that the pose you want?"

"Definitely!" Bumblebee said enthusiastically, giving him hope that he'd be able to paint for real this time. Not wasting even a moment, he painted as fast as he could, glancing back and forth between the painting and his subject to make the process as smooth as possible. It was an effective strategy, as it allowed him to get the outline twice as fast. This time he wanted to fully capture his friend in the picture as he'd been trying from the start. Some part of him just knew it would be worth it, and that they'd both be thankful he put in all this effort.

Or, at least, he thought he knew...

"Actually, sorry about this, but…" Bumblebee was bashful but not especially hesitant as he moved to lay on his side, stretching as he moved into an entirely different position. The poor artist felt his spark drop at the loss of progress all over again, even as his friend tried to cheer them both up by looking as chipper as possible. "That was so much more uncomfortable than I was expecting. Go on!"

Bulkhead didn't say a word as he grabbed another canvas, and did his very best not to look as discouraged as he felt. It didn't seem like this was going to stop any time soon, as much as he wished it would, and that didn't bode well for his wish to get this done. Perhaps he'd been far too hopeful…

Still, he did everything in his power to stay positive and make the painting he'd dreamed of become a reality.

Painting faster than he ever had in his entire life, the big bot ignored the imperfections that came from moving so rapidly, setting his jaw tight as little flecks of paint spattered across the canvas. At this point, such little things hardly seemed to mind. What really mattered was getting this done. A familiar form began to take recognizable shape on the canvas, and the artist started to plan ahead for his next move from then on. Shading would come after these little details, which he'd be able to put together thanks to having a lot of his friend's appearance memorized. Hope blossomed in his spark as he finally saw Bumblebee in the picture he was painting.

Getting so close to what he wanted made seeing a repeat of what had happened before hurt more than it should have.

Catching himself, Bumblebee blushed and shrunk down on the spot, smiling bashfully in apology for his unintentional movement. It really wasn't something he was doing on purpose; he wanted to see his friend happy! Sitting still just didn't work for him. Seeing Bulkhead look hurt, however, made him feel especially bad for the mistake.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Bulkhead said with a sigh, putting yet another canvas to the side and looking quite deflated as he did so. There wasn't anything he could think to do that might change this, and he was ready to just throw in the towel. Perhaps this was just the one thing he wasn't meant to paint.

"Aw come on, why not?" Bumblebee pressed, aware of the answer but hoping there was something he could do to fix it. Staying still just wasn't in his programming, but perhaps… he could get some tape? That wasn't realistic, but he wanted to try something to make up for this. Bulkhead only sighed again.

"You won't stay still?" he said simply, frustrated but not antagonistic in his summation. It was something neither of them could change, and that left both more than a little helpless.

"I…" Bumblebee stuttered off, tapping his digits together as he saw his friend get even more sad. Unable to help getting a little defensive, he got up from the couch, throwing up his arms as the big bot cleaned up some of the mess. "Come on, Bulk! You know me! Staying still isn't my thing, and I can't force that!"

"Well yeah, but… couldn't you just stay mostly still?" Bulkhead asked, still not ready to just give up all at once. Even if he had no idea how to fix things or make it work, he wanted this painting too much to just give up, no matter how many canvases it took. All he needed was a little bit more time than he had been getting. His determination must have shown, because Bumblebee furrowed his brow ridges in consideration.

"I… I can try! I…" he faded off as the pressure weighed on him, and thankfully his friend caught that quickly. To be clear; he wanted this a lot, but he could never want anything badly enough to make Bumblebee uncomfortable. Perhaps it was best they rested a bit, to restore their patience and approach this with clearer heads. He certainly needed a minute to relax from all this frustration...

"How about a break? We've been trying for a while, maybe a bit of down time will help." he proposed, already feeling a little better at the prospect of cooling down. Bumblebee shared the sentiment straight away, visibly relaxing on the spot and letting out a tiny sigh of his own.

"Great idea Bulk! Let me just grab something…" he said happily, darting off and leaving the big bot alone with his supplies. Deciding to clean a bit to ease his mind, Bulkhead sorted the discarded canvases, hoping that he could paint over the unusable pictures with some white and reuse them. Seeing how much and how little progress he'd made at the same time made him wonder how he might improve on their next attempt. Nothing was coming to mind just yet, but that didn't mean he had lost hope. There had to be something on this planet that would motivate Bee to stay still, and by Primus he would find it!

As he was wiping up some paint that had managed to drip onto the floor, Bumblebee quite literally skidded back into the room, coming to a dead stop after running at full tilt.

"I'm back! Just wanted to grab my game!" the little bot declared happily, waving the device about as he went to sit back on the smushed couch. The game had been a gift from Sari as well; some kind of earth console that had been sized up a few times over to better fit the servos of a Cybertronian. Smiling in acknowledgement, the big bot nodded as he went back to cleaning. Digital music met his audials as his friend started up the system and began to play, reclining on the couch as he settled in for a much needed break. Bulkhead had only had middling success with the games popular on earth, owed in large part to his size, but he was at least happy his friend could have some much needed fun with them.

When the floor was finally cleaned up, he took stock of his slightly diminished inventory. There was still plenty of paint, and more than a few canvases, but if they continued at their current pace… He'd have to figure out a strategy before they tried this again, because otherwise this just wasn't going to work. Looking up at Bumblebee, he briefly considered proposing that they try this another day before his thoughts were systematically interrupted.

Laying on his back over the pile of stuffing that had once been a couch, the small mech was entirely engrossed in his digital world, optics focused only on the screen as his digits rapidly tapped away on the controls. Other than the occasional shift of his expression, he was entirely motionless. It took Bulkhead a moment to process what he was seeing. Bumblebee was so rarely still, and never for this length of time… He didn't need to think much before he was reacting the only way he could.

Moving as silently as a mech of his size was able to, he grabbed what he needed, gathering his paints around himself as he got a fresh canvas and sat down before his easel. He couldn't have asked for a better setup; the pose, the lighting, it was all perfect. It was almost too much to hope this was real. Considering how many false starts he'd had, most could probably understand why he felt that way.

Daring to take his time, the big bot made every brush stroke count, trying to think of all the reasons he liked Bee so much as he made each one. His friend was confident, energetic, brave… All those thoughts motivated him every second he worked, and the results were soon apparent. The form of Bumblebee began to take shape rather quickly, coming together far more smoothly thanks to how relaxed he was. A base layer was ready to go in what felt like only a few minutes.

Oblivious to everything, Bumblebee kept right on playing, occasionally sticking his glossa out as he did so. Bulkhead contemplated including that detail in the piece, but ultimately decided against it. This was going to be a somewhat more dignified painting than that.

When the time came to add lighting, he was almost over the moon, but he kept all the excitement to himself. Colors mixed together beautifully on his palette, forming the light and dark shades to the vibrant yellows and deep blacks that made up his friend's paint job. It was far more satisfying than painting even the most beautiful landscape he'd ever seen. Perhaps he was just a little biased on that front, but he did believe that painting things you truly cared about just brought them to life. One only had to glance at this piece to understand how much this bot meant to him.

It almost seemed like he was dreaming when each and every glance revealed Bumblebee to be sitting perfectly still, without a hint of movement beyond the minor. If this did turn out to be a dream, he'd at least be happy it was going so well. Fate had truly designed the perfect setup for them to finally get this done without any stress for either individual.

Everything came together with what felt like only a few of the most well done strokes he'd ever painted. At long last, the bot he'd wanted to paint so badly had been captured on canvas! It was so exciting he couldn't hold back an exclamation as he set his brush down theatrically.

"Done!"

"Huh?!" Bumblebee gasped, half jumping on the spot as his game nearly flew from his servos. Looking about in a daze, he put the pieces together when he saw his friend, at which point guilt crossed his features. Time had slipped away from him even more so than it had for the very busy Bulkhead. "What? I… oh, Bulk! I didn't mean to get distracted! You could have stopped me earlier, I wouldn't have minded."

Waving off the appreciated but unnecessary apology, the big bot only smiled and wiped some paint from his servos, rising from his chair to puff his chest out with pride. "That's okay, I'm already finished."

"How?" the little bot gasped in awe, checking his internal chronometer to see just how long he'd been wrapped up in his game. It had only felt like a few minutes, but this wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten lost in a video game.

"Well, you were pretty content playing your game, so…" Bulkhead allowed his friend to put the rest of the pieces together, and in no time understanding dawned on the little mech.

"Oh, I gotcha!" Bumblebee replied happily, quite relieved to have not held them up. If playing video games was what it had taken to make his friend happy, then he was quite fine with that. All he wanted was to get a look at the results, which he was certain would be incredible. "Here, let me see!"

Feeling a bit of shyness amongst his pride, Bulkhead handed over the canvas, careful to avoid the still drying paint.

"This is amazing!" Bumblebee proclaimed without hesitation, trying to be delicate even as he felt a surge of excitement upon beholding the painting. Of course he knew his friend had talent, but this was incredible! "Look at me, I look even better than usual!"

Bulkhead looked down to the floor and shuffled his pedes, doing his best to hide the blush creeping along his cheeks. "Well, I had a pretty great model."

"That's gonna sell fast, Bulkhead. No doubt about it." Bumblebee praised as he gave the painting back, confident in what he was saying. It didn't hurt that he was a good looking bot, but his friend had really done an especially good job on this one, and he was sure it would be bought up in no time. Taking the piece, the big bot smiled softly as he beheld it again. It had taken a lot of courage for him to get this, and he was quite proud of himself for that. As such, he held the painting very near and dear to his spark.

"Maybe, but… I think I'm gonna keep it, actually." he said softly, wanting to see it every day. There was a perfect place for it where he could do just that, not that he would say where that was. Bumblebee didn't mind the decision in the slightest.

However, when the little bot ducked in his friend's room later to pick up a borrowed item, he learned the true value of the painting to Bulkhead. On a wall reserved for only his most precious of works, the portrait sat high in a position of honor. Usually unable to say everything that came to mind due to overwhelming volume, Bee had been rendered speechless by the sight. Only a soft smile revealed how touched he was by the gesture.

#transformers animated #tfa #bumblebee #bulkhead #commission #my writing #my commissions #fluff

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quickspinner · 3 years

Text

The Magic of You - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

This was supposed to be sweet and fun and easy, and it is the first two I hope, but it was not easy and now there’s a part 3 in the works, so. Oopsie. 😆

Some sexytimes in this one, slightly less off screen than usual but still not detailed or explicit, and should be fairly easy to skim past.

“You’re in trouble,” Juleka sighed, leaning an elbow on the table and looking at him through the curtain of her hair.

Luka didn’t answer her, humming as he replaced the strings on his instrument. He normally carried his gittern on his trips to the meadow, because it was small and light, but he had a mind to play his lute for Marinette tomorrow.

“Luka.” Juleka kicked his foot. “Say something.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Juleka.”

“Tell me you’re not falling for a girl who’s not even your species.”

Luka didn’t look up, but he knew she could see his lopsided grin. “Can’t. Sorry.”

“You barely know each other.”

Luka hummed. “I’ve never heard a song as beautiful as hers. I know her, Jules. I don’t know a lot about her, but I know her...deep down, the core of who she is. She’s sweet and kind and...vibrant…” He trailed off, lost in thought, until Juleka kicked him again.

“She’s a literal snake, Luka!”

Luka frowned, finally looking directly at her. “She’s not a snake.”

“Half-snake,” Juleka snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he said, and his clipped tone made Juleka’s eyes widen slightly. “She’s not half snake. She’s not half anything . She’s not a snake and she’s not human and she’s definitely not half snake-half human. Don’t make her sound like some kind of construct, like two things somehow got mashed together in some weird magical accident. She’s not a freak, she’s just...herself. A complete being meant to be as she is.” He turned back to his work. “And she’s beautiful, just like that.” He pressed his lips together, jaw tight.

Juleka sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Luka’s tension eased, and he glanced up at her. She got up from the table, placing her palms on it as she leaned over to look him in the eye. “Also, you’re hopeless.”

Luka chuckled as Juleka stalked off. “Fair.”

***

“Girl, you are in so much trouble.”

“I am not,” Marinette protested, lashing out with the end of her tail. Alya dodged the half-hearted blow and giggled.

“You liiiiiiike him,” Alya teased, twining around her friend with both tail and arms to hug her. “Admit it.”

“Like him? Yes.” Marinette leaned into the embrace for just a moment, and then slid away. “Of course I like him,” Marinette huffed, coiling back on herself with her nose in the air as Alya made herself into a loose coil in the corner, draping her upper half over the angled rock there for that purpose. “He’s sweet. Very polite. He’s interesting, and I want to know more about his magic. His music is beautiful. He’s handsome for a human.” Marinette shrugged. “Maybe I have a little crush, but that’s all.”

“Mmhmm. And if he was a naga?” Alya leaned her chin on her hand and gave a fangy grin. “Would it still be a little crush then?”

Marinette flushed deep red. She couldn’t deny that she had thought about it. Imagined what Luka would look like with a sleek black scaled body instead of legs, or what fangs would look like in his knowing smile. Maybe she’d fantasized a little bit about eyes in that exact shade of deep blue, with slit pupils slowly widening into near-circles as she teased and tortured him—

It hadn’t felt right, though, imagining him as something other than he was. The fangs spoiled the gentleness of his smile, and he would move differently if he had a tail, and she loved the soft, content expression in his eyes when he looked at her. Luka had a quiet strength of his own, but there was nothing predatory or dangerous about him. He was fearless without being threatening, and Marinette found that very, very attractive. There was none of that contentious, dominating element of naga courtship that she had never before managed to navigate. Luka had made it clear from the beginning that he respected her and what she could do. She’d never had to prove to him that she had the strength to bear and protect a clutch, nor establish that she would not be dominated or intimidated by a mate, and his own easy confidence in her presence convinced her of his strength—of power and character, if not of body. With a jolt, Marinette suddenly understood that without realizing it, or likely even intending it, Luka had slipped past her guard and straight into the sweetest part of courtship, the learning and the teaching, the teasing and the wooing, and she suddenly realized that this little crush she had been indulging might be more serious than she had meant to let it get.

“I’m in trouble,” Marinette sighed, sinking down onto her coils to mope. Alya patted her back sympathetically.

***

She felt a little shy the next time Luka appeared in her meadow. She tried to greet him with the same cheerfulness as usual, but he still looked at her with those knowing eyes, tilting his head slightly.

“Is everything all right?” Luka asked, leaning toward her a little. He reached to tuck a lock of her hair behind her pointed ear, and though the touch was light, the feel of it lingered on her cheek and ear.

“Yes,” she breathed, and then blushed, looking away. “I’m just...happy to see you.” She glanced back at him to see his reaction, and the grin that spread over his face was gratifying to say the least.

“I’m always happy to see you,” he said, and then seemed to hesitate. “In fact, I was wondering—would it be all right if I came to see you more often? Not for the magic. Just to see you. I’d...really like to spend more time with you, if that’s okay.”

Marinette held in a very undignified squeal, and gave him a broad smile, fangs fully in evidence. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Luka smiled back at her. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Heart pounding, Marinette could feel a giggle bubbling up. She launched herself forward at striking speed and coiled loosely around Luka. He started at the sudden movement but otherwise just looked over his shoulder at her, chin tilting up as she raised herself to look at the instrument strapped to his back. “This is new,” she observed, fingers hovering over the wood. She felt shy of touching it without his permission and drew her hand back.

“I thought I’d play something different for you today,” he said, and she tilted her head slightly as she looked at him. His voice had gone deeper, and there was a pink tinge to his face, like he had been out in the sun too long. Except he wasn’t even out of the shadows of the trees yet, and…

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, and felt a flutter in her belly.

“I like different,” she dared, sinking down again, but making no move to unwind from around him.

She saw his little tongue come out to wet his lips as he turned forward again. “Me too.” Marinette decided she liked that deep voice very much. She let the giggle escape this time, and swept around him to take his hands.

“Then come and do your work so you can play for me,” she said, slithering back and drawing him with her.

“I can do my work and play for you,” he smiled, following her lead willingly.

Marinette let go of him and made herself comfortable by the rock, but instead of lounging on it as he usually did, he took his instrument off and lowered himself onto the grass with his back to the rock, then tilted his chin at her in invitation. A little shyly, Marinette shifted herself to bring her torso next to him. “That’s better,” he murmured, his long fingers drawing the first notes from the strings, checking the tune. He paused to lay out his little line of crystals beside him, and Marinette leaned over him.

“Does the magic work with any kind?” she wanted to know.

“Not any kind, but many,” Luka replied, seeming unbothered by the way she had draped over him to look, even when she ever so casually rested a clawed hand on his chest to steady herself. “Some work better than others. Some regular customers have favorites that they like to reuse. Some mages find that certain types of crystals work better for them. I can work with most things, but some are easier than others. Mostly though, we just get whatever my sister, Juleka, can buy for us when the miner’s guild rep comes through.” He shrugged. “When it comes to business, I have to work with the supply.”

“That makes sense,” Marinette said, easing back. “Sorry. For interrupting.”

“No need,” he smiled, strumming again. “I have all day, and excellent company. I am in no hurry.” He held her gaze for a moment, and Marinette would have sworn that her heart stopped. She hadn’t realized she was still leaning so close to him. She drew back a little, and was glad when he shifted his gaze and let his eyes fall nearly shut as he sank into the music and the magic. She needed some time to compose herself, before she did anything else foolish. She would have to think of a way to get back at him for being so...so charming .

And she’d have plenty of chances, because he was coming to the meadow more often. He wanted to see her more. She gave an excited little wiggle that rippled down the length of her body, and then glanced at him to make sure he hadn’t noticed. His eyes were still closed, and she took a moment to admire him openly. Yes, he was plenty handsome, just as he was, and his aura radiated peace and comfort.

Maybe it wouldn’t be the life she had imagined for herself, but if it was like this...she crushed that thought before it could go any further. She reached for the workbasket she’d left on the ground beside the rock, and pulled out some leatherwork she’d been meaning to get done. She glanced at Luka one more time and smiled.

***

Juleka was right, and Luka knew it. He was hopeless. His hands shook slightly as he made the walk to the clearing on his next free day. This would be his first purely social visit to Marinette, without even the pretense of work to hide behind. He was here, purely and simply, because he wanted to see her, and he’d made sure she knew it, and now he would see...he thought he would see, if this was indeed the first step of shifting their relationship toward something more than friendship.

He put a hand against his heart, feeling it flutter in time with the butterflies in his stomach. This was what he had always loved about love, the way that it quickened his breath and sharpened his senses, but there was more to it than that with Marinette. She was so vibrant and alive, bubbling with curiosity and creativity and with such a unique way of looking at things—he could listen to her talk for hours and never get tired of her stories and her ideas, nor did he tire of answering her questions about himself and his family. He wanted her to know him, and he treasured up everything he learned about her in a heart that had begun to ache for her presence when they were apart.

And he thought...he thought that maybe she...

He took the last few steps from the trees into the meadow, and Marinette, draped over the great couch-like stone in the middle, immediately looked up. Her face lit up like one of his glowing power crystals the second she laid eyes on him, and his heart soared and he opened his arms instinctively even as he tried to quash the rising hope in him. Marinette’s scales whisked along the grass and then she was colliding with him hard enough to knock him off his feet. That surprised her, and they both went down in a heap. Marinette managed to catch him in her coils in such a way as to protect the instrument strapped on his back, and for a moment they both blinked at each other. Marinette smiled sheepishly, one fang poking out adorably between her lips. “Oops. I...forgot you were human.” She winced. “I mean, of course I know that, it’s just—well, we’re a lot harder to tip over.”

Luka began to laugh, one hand reaching up to cradle her cheek as he lost himself in her eyes, eyes that should have been strange and foreign but to him, were simply beautiful. “Forgiven.”

Marinette smiled and tightened her hold on his arms, and then Luka wasn’t exactly sure what happened. It reminded him of being on his mother’s boat when the water was what she called “sporty.” It only lasted a moment, though, and then he was sitting upright on the grass in the curve of Marinette’s serpentine body. He had a giddy moment of disorientation; he always forgot how big she was compared to him, because so much of her body was often hidden in the grass and she tended to carry herself lower to the ground, so that she was shorter than him. Clearly no matter how lost his heart was, his head still had some work to do on remembering that she was not human.

“Better?” she asked, sliding her hands down his arms and looking him over. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Or your lute?”

“I’m fine,” Luka smiled, carefully catching her clawed hands as they began to slide away. “I’m happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you too,” she said shyly, and he felt her shifting behind him—curling closer, he thought, and tried not to jump as the tip of her tail curled up over his thigh. “What did you want to do today? Since you don’t have to work.”

“Anything,” Luka smiled. “What do you do when I’m not here invading your meadow?”

“Miss you,” she said coyly, and then blushed, and quickly unwound herself from him and slithered away. “Come on, it’s too cool here in the shade.”

Luka was frozen for a moment, caught off guard by her sudden boldness. Only when she curled around the base of the rock where he usually sat and propped her arms on it, peeking shyly at him over them, did he manage to move.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Luka told himself as he got rather unsteadily to his feet . They were, after all, very different, and a summer romance, or even just a summer flirtation, might be the most that could ever happen between them.

Oh, but he wanted at least that much, if she was willing to give it to him, so he went to the rock and laid down on his belly, folding his own arms under his chin as he blinked slowly at her.

She giggled. “Now that’s almost the proper way to lounge on a sunning stone,” she teased him.

“Not so convenient for playing though,” Luka chuckled, and had to swallow at the way her eyes softened.

“Well,” she said, lifting up a little, and tracing random patterns on the stone with her fingers. “You don’t have to play, if you don’t want to. We could just...talk. Or enjoy the sun.”

Luka hummed. “You don’t seem like the type of person who just lounges in the sun.”

Marinette turned her nose up. “I”m a nagi. I spend a lot of time lounging in the sun, for your information.”

“Of course,” Luka agreed. “But you don’t just lounge, do you.” He leaned a little over the side of the rock and looked pointedly at a basket resting at the base. He looked up at Marinette and smirked, his face inches from hers.

Marinette’s cheeks went pink. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping busy.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” Luka smiled, propping his chin up in his fist.

“You think you know me so well,” Marinette pouted.

“Not yet, but I’m hoping to,” Luka said, his eyes on hers. “Will you show me what you’re working on?” he asked, breaking the gaze.

Blushing hard, Marinette bent to pick up the basket that had been sitting on the grass and set it up on the rock to show him the leatherwork she had brought to do in the sunny meadow. He watched her, content and happy as she described her plan for the jerkin that was in pieces in the basket, a gift for a dear friend.

“Will you...play for me?” she asked, settling down with her work at the foot of the rock. “If you want to. If you’d rather take a break for today, that’s okay too, I know you must play a lot so it’s completely up to you—”

“I would love to play for you,” he interrupted gently. “What would you like to hear?”

Marinette blushed. “Could you play...me? I want to hear...what you hear. If that’s okay. Like you did the first time you spoke to me.”

“I can’t play you as you were then,” he smiled. “But I could play as you are now, if you don’t mind me touching your mind as I did before. Your feelings, as I said, not your thoughts.” He saw her hesitation, and added, “Or I can play something else. It’s up to you.”

Marinette considered, and finally said, “I don’t mind. I’d like to hear it. I’d think I’d like for you to hear the way I feel right now.” She ducked her head a little, and Luka chuckled.

“Music is often simpler than words.”

“Especially when you use magic to sense emotions,” Marinette snorted, and stuck her tongue out at him. Luka laughed at the way it flickered in the air, but quickly sobered again.

“There is something I should probably tell you about that,” he said, looking away for a moment before he gathered his courage to meet her eyes again. “When I first meet someone, I have to be tranced to hear anything, and I have to work to find their song out of all the ones I’m hearing. But, the more I get to know somebody, and to know their song, the easier it is for me to pick it out. I’m already very aware of you just from coming here so often. Eventually, if we keep spending time together, I won’t have to trance at all to hear you.”

Marinette seemed to take that in. “So...you’ll be able to read my emotions all the time?”

“If I listen, yeah,” Luka nodded. “I can try not to, but it’s...difficult sometimes.” He felt his face flush. “Especially if it’s someone I feel strongly about. Sometimes I don’t realize that I’m doing it.” He hesitated. “Is that...does it bother you? I mean, if it’s a problem, I can...I can stay away. I’ll understand, if you would rather not—”

Marinette placed one clawed hand over his, and he stopped, swallowing, at the way she was looking at him. “I don’t want you to stay away,” she told him, low and earnest. “That’s not what I want at all. This sensing, it’s a part of you, so I’m not afraid of it. I trust you.”

Luka turned his hand over to take hers, and lifted it to press his lips against her palm. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Not everyone is so understanding.”

Marinette blushed, and butted her head against his shoulder, hiding her face for a moment.

Luka cleared his throat. “Shall I play for you now?”

Marinette looked up, and smiled shyly. “Please.”

He settled back, played his key tune, and sank into the magic of the meadow and of Marinette beside him. He found her song in the meadow’s symphony, and began to play along with it—not to replicate it, exactly, for it had a richness that he didn’t think his simple instrument could capture, but to follow the flow of her feelings and the underlying melody of Marinette herself. He smiled, slightly, pleased at what he sensed from her. Happiness, hopefulness, affection, and a sparkling thread of nervousness and anticipation that matched the feeling buzzing along his own veins.

He lost himself in the music and the energy of Marinette and this, her place, and began to explore the way his own melded with it. His attention returned to Marinette when the tune of her mood shifted. He shifted with it, following the new feeling with his music, and he found himself playing something richer, warmer, more rhythmic—his eyes flew open wide and his trance shattered. He looked at Marinette, but she was looking very intently at the embroidery in her hands, seemingly not paying attention to him at all...but he could see her peek at him from under her hair and away.

“What were you thinking about just then?” he asked, as if compelled, though he knew it was none of his business.

Marinette flushed a deep red, and he watched in fascination as it spread down her neck and down the exposed V of skin above her collar—he snapped his eyes back up to her face and swallowed, and hoped she hadn’t caught the trend of his gaze.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” she lied blatantly, and then her eyes darted toward him, giving him a look through her lashes that quickened his pulse. “I was just...admiring your playing.”

Oh . He licked his lips unconsciously, and saw her own tongue flicker out as she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

He cleared his throat and put his instrument hastily away. “May I see how it’s coming along?” he asked, sliding over to the edge of the rock to get a look at her work. Marinette rose up, coiling her body under her so that she was effectively sitting beside him, and let him admire the pieces. If he leaned a little closer than necessary, she didn’t seem to mind, and they spoke in quiet, intimate tones, even though the clearing was empty besides themselves.

It seemed hardly any time had passed when Luka looked up at the sun and sighed. “I must go,” he told Marinette regretfully. “I will come again—if you still wish me to.”

“I do,” Marinette replied with a smile, making no move away from him, though they had been sitting quite close.

Luka’s heartbeat quickened, and his gaze flicked down to her full, pretty lips. With an effort, he tore himself away, turning to pick up his lute and strap it to his back. “Then I shall come as soon as may be,” he said, picking up her hand instead and cradling it for a moment in his own. Farewell for now, Marinette. Be safe, until I see you again.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Marinette grinned, baring her fangs.

Luka chuckled. “Nothing in this forest could keep me from coming back to you,” he told her boldly, and smiled at her blush. “Until then.” He squeezed her hand, and got to his feet, giving her a little bow as he took his leave. He felt her eyes on him until he disappeared in the trees. Only then did he fully let loose the dreamy smile he’d been trying to keep under control. When he pressed his hand over his heart, it was pounding instead of fluttering.

***

Luka was true to his word, and came often now. The days without him found Marinette pouting and discontented, though she always had plenty to do. She spent hardly any time in her lair, but that was hardly remarkable in summer, when her meadow was so pleasant and beautiful, full of growing things, and beginning to show the marks of Luka’s presence even in his absence. She treasured those little proofs, the marks of his heavy boots in the grass, or the wood shavings from his whittling while he spoke to her, the quill plectrums he occasionally left behind.

She was growing more foolish by the day, and yet Marinette couldn’t quite help herself. The more time she spent with Luka, the more she wanted to coil around him, rub up against him, tempt him into touching her with those rough fingers that played so beautifully.

Luka didn’t seem to mind, and even seemed to welcome her attentions as much as he was able, though she doubted he really understood the signals she was sending. Still, the way his hands brushed against her scaled body in little, encouraging touches spurred her to further boldness, and no matter how often she got flustered and retreated, he never teased her about it.

She wanted him. She thought she might...love him. Even Alya had stopped teasing her, watching her now with a worried expression.

If she wanted the life she always thought she’d have, the life everyone expected her to have, the smart thing to do would be to send Luka away.

But Marinette couldn’t...and part of her wondered if that was her answer.

***

“Luka,” Marinette gasped, looking at the bolt of soft grey doeskin leather he’d laid in her arms. “This is beautiful.”

Luka watched her face as she touched the soft leather, basking in her happiness. “You like it? It’s yours. I brought it for you.”

Her lovely mouth opened, but nothing came out, and Luka’s grin widened.

“Your smile is all the thanks I need,” he told her, curling his fingers under her chin. “You have a beautiful smile.”

She blushed, and Luka held her gaze for just a moment before dropping his. He picked up her hand and kissed her palm, and then pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse flutter against his lips. Her hand curved to cup his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, dragging his fingertips lightly down the inside of her arm.

“I should put this somewhere safe,” Marinette murmured, and Luka made no protest as she moved away, only sighing as he lounged back on the sunning rock. His instrument and packs were set aside for the moment, but for once, he didn’t want to play—only to listen as he watched Marinette pause on her way back to examine some of her flowers. He admired through half-closed eyes the colors in her serpent scales and the graceful arc she made as she bent to look at the blossoms. He started slightly as she made one of those quick movements that always surprised him, doubling back on herself to glide back to him over the grass.

“You know,” she said, rising up around the sloped side of the rock where he was leaning, so that he had to look up at her. Her hair fell around her face and tickled his temples. “This is my sunning stone you’re always lounging all over.”

“Perhaps you should come and join me then,” Luka suggested, raising his eyebrows slightly. “I think there’s room for us both, if you don’t mind being close.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment, and then she shifted up and over the rock, turning until her human torso pressed next to his, and the rest of her body followed, draping beside and around him. He shifted the little bit he could to make more room for her, and watched in fascination the play of muscle rippling along her length as she tucked her body next to and around him.

Carefully, moving slowly, Luka slid his arm around her human waist, tugging her nearer, and she relaxed against his side with a quiet hum of contentment. Her slit pupils went wider, rounder, as his fingers stroked her lightly.

“Not so bad, is it?” Luka asked with a smile, and she pressed closer against him, smiling back.

“I could get used to it,” she sighed, and laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re warm.” She poked him in the belly with a knuckle. “Because you stole my sunning rock.”

“It’s a good rock,” Luka chuckled, and then arched up slightly with a gasp as Marinette’s hand slid across his chest and she settled more fully against him, making a sleepy noise. He raised his eyebrows. “Marinette?”

“Ssssleepy,” she hissed, and he bit his lip, though his chest shook under her with his chuckle.

“You should have told me you were so tired,” he chided softly, though he didn’t think she would hear him.

“Not tired,” she mumbled. “Just warm. Comfy. Sleepy.”

Hmm , Luka thought. Must be a naga thing . Not that he minded. He was more than happy to cuddle with her, feeling privileged to hold her as she slept. He could think of worse ways to spend a beautiful afternoon than napping in the sun with his...whatever they were. But then, whatever he was to her, she was his beloved, and he was only waiting for the right moment to tell her so.

Her steady, even breathing told him that now was not that moment.

Chuckling, Luka dropped his free hand to fish in his clothes for a handkerchief. He finally found it, and let his head fall carefully back against the rock. He put the handkerchief over his face to shield himself from the sun, and sighed, stroking Marinette’s waist gently, fingers running over skin and scales. It was pleasant here in the sun, with Marinette soft and supple against him. She roused slightly, shifted, and swatted at his hand.

“Stop that,” she complained sleepily.

“Sorry.” Luka stilled his hand. “Ticklish?” He was close enough to sleep that her song teased the edge of his consciousness, sultry and... oh —his eyes flew open under his cloth, and the song slipped away. It didn’t matter though because he felt the vibrations of Marinette’s laughter in his chest, as her hand slid teasingly down to rest lower on his belly.

“No,” she murmured. “Definitely not ticklish.”

He swallowed. “Oh.” She giggled again, and he felt her tongue flick against his neck, and her nose nuzzled his jaw.

“You smell good,” she sighed, cuddling closer, and then she was asleep again.

Luka picked up her hand, moving it back up to his chest and breathing slowly as he tried to calm himself after that unexpected discovery. He would have to be more careful how he touched her. He had no idea that he was touching a sensitive place. He was lucky she hadn’t shoved him off the rock, but...she hadn’t. He’d been touching her intimately, turning her on, and she hadn’t done anything more than tease him about it. She hadn’t even really made him move his hand away, just insisted he stop moving.

He was glad she was asleep, because his heart was suddenly pounding beneath her hand. She shifted slightly even as he thought it, which didn’t help matters. He closed his eyes and did a breathing exercise, shifting his focus to his magic, calling the song of the meadow into his mind. It took some time, but he managed to calm his body, and then, focusing on Marinette’s deep breathing and the scent of her hair, to drift off into a light doze himself.

He woke at the soft brush of the handkerchief sliding off his face. Blinking, he found Marinette’s face inches from his. She was propped up on the slope of the rock next to him, but she was half on top of him, folded arms leaning on his chest as she looked at him. He smiled slowly. “Hi.”

Marinette giggled. “You snore.”

Luka snorted, amused. “So would you, with your head tilted back that way.” He made a face as he tilted his head, stretching his stiff neck. “Ow.”

Marinette made a sympathetic noise, and nuzzled his jaw, which woke him up considerably and reminded him of what he’d been thinking before he fell asleep. “It was a lovely nap, for me,” she said. “You’re very comfortable.”

“High praise,” Luka sighed, and smiled at her, taking a breath as he gathered his courage. “May I ask you something? About nagas. I’ve been reading, but...human texts, you know. Biased.”

She made an inquisitive noise, toying with the lacing of his shirt. “Ask.”

“Do nagas kiss?” he asked, and fought to hide his amusement as Marinette’s eyes widened slightly in surprise and her cheeks pinked. She looked away for just a moment and then fixed her gaze on him, shifting a bit higher so that her face was level with his, leaning an elbow by his head. She was so close he could have counted the pale, barely-there freckles across her nose, if he could’ve made himself look away from her eyes.

“Yes,” she chuckled, “But maybe not quite like you.” She winked at him and flicked her long tongue out, and he felt his own cheeks flush.

“Good to know,” he said, and had to clear his throat.

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Do you want to kiss me?”

If he hadn’t been blushing before, he would be now, but he kept his eyes on her and admitted, “I really want to kiss you.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, and so did the slits of her pupils, and he felt her go tense all along her long body, everywhere it was pressed against his. Moving slowly, he brought his hand up and cupped her cheek. A quick tremor went down her body, and her hands flexed against his chest as she leaned into his touch. “May I?” he asked,

She nodded, and he drew her to him, leaning up to meet her as much as he could while she was still leaning on his chest. He kissed her lightly, brushing his lips against hers, and then kissed her again, still softly but firmer and more lingering. He felt an intense thrill at the feel of her fangs behind those plush lips and kissed her harder without meaning to. He drew back, relishing the sound of the soft click.

He watched, enchanted, as Marinette’s eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, a shy smile curling her lips. Luka was fighting the grin that wanted to spread from ear to ear, trying to keep it to something sane and not frightening, when Marinette’s face fell slightly. Cold fear settled in his stomach as her brow furrowed.

“Humans,” she paused. “Humans kiss family, right? Friends? It’s not—I mean—you don’t—”

Quickly Luka picked up her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. “Humans kiss friends or family like this,” he murmured, and then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Or this. Or…” He kissed her temple, and then her forehead. “Like that. But this—” He kissed her lips again, harder and longer than before, the hand still on her cheek sliding back into her hair to tilt her to a better angle. “That,” he breathed, “is for lovers. Or...people hoping to become lovers. Courting couples.”

Marinette stared at him for a moment, cheeks pink and lips reddened, and he watched that beautiful mouth as it opened slightly and then formed to make her quiet, “ Oh. ” Her tongue flickered nervously, distractingly. “Are we courting?”

Luka forced his gaze back up to her eyes. “I am definitely courting you,” he said with a grin, and then sobered as he watched her flustered reaction, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly, and the sudden, restless shifting of her serpentine body. “Should I stop?” he asked, as gently as he could, though his pulse was pounding in his ears.

“No,” she whispered, leaning closer, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. “Don’t stop.”

Relief made him urgent as he pulled her back and kissed her again, wrapping an arm around her back to keep her close. He felt her own arms slide up around his neck, her body pressing him back against the stone. Her tongue flickered against his lips, and he parted his lips to return the gesture. Her tongue filled his mouth before he could do anything, and he made a rather embarrassing noise. Marinette drew back and looked at him, adorably pink except for her reddened lips. “Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “Did I—”

“You’re fine,” he told her. “You’re amazing. Do it again?”

Giggling, Marinette kissed him again, and this time her tongue flickered in his mouth and made him chuckle. “Hold still?” he asked, the next time they broke, and Marinette did as he pressed his mouth to hers, and then slipped his own tongue inside her mouth, mindful of her fangs. The noise she made and the way her hands flexed against his chest were ample compensation for the danger as far as Luka was concerned. She held absolutely still until he withdrew, and then she came alive with a small whimper, wrapping her arms around his neck as her body slid into his lap to bring her closer.

The kissing went on, a soft, slow, sensual exploration. Luka flinched and Marinette froze at the taste of blood on her tongue.

“Oh no,” Marinette gasped, brushing a thumb over his lip and looking at the bright smear on her thumb in horror.

Luka just laughed quietly. “It’s okay, it’s just a scratch.”

“But I hurt you,” she said, clearly upset. Luka caught her hand and twined his fingers through hers, reaching up to cup her cheek in his other hand.

“We could as easily say I hurt myself,” he teased. “It’s not as if I wasn’t an active participant. It’s okay. It’s probably going to happen. I don’t mind. I think it would feel too much like a dream otherwise.”

Marinette just stared at him unhappily. Luka sighed, and then smiled at her smiling as he lifted the fingers of one hand to his lips, and hummed a quiet tune. In a flash of blue light, the cut was gone.

“See?” he grinned. “Now will you kiss me again?”

Marinette moved towards him, but hesitantly.

There was nothing hesitant in the way Luka kissed her, though, and after a moment she melted back into him with a helpless noise that shot straight down his spine.

It was hard, leaving her that day, even as he whispered promises to come again soon between sweet, soft kisses from already bruised lips. He could hear, faintly, her song, swelling with her joy—joy to be with him , to be cared for by him, and his own soul sang with it.

Juleka took one look at him when he got home and groaned. “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to hear it,” she grumbled.

“Oh, it’s so romantic though,” Rose sighed.

Luka ignored them both.

***

There was a lot of kissing, after that day. They spent hours tangled together on the big rock, sleeping, kissing, and talking in turn. Sometimes he teased her and Marinette chased him playfully around the meadow, reveling in his laugh and the joy in his voice. He brought a ball one day and set up a frame with sticks, and they had a day full of laughter as they tried to adapt the game he knew into something she could play. He kept tripping over her tail and eventually they just ended up tangled together in the grass, laughing so hard they were breathless even before the kissing started.

He brought her more gifts. It was a custom among courting humans, he said, which made Marinette blush when she thought of the gifts she had left him before they officially met. He’d brought a package of his favorite sweets for her to try, some dye plants that grew in one of the other places he drew magic from, and flowers that she had never seen before from a garden he’d visited. All of his gifts were thoughtful and precious, and Marinette felt rather spoiled.

She came up with a plan, and worked eagerly on it on the days he didn’t visit her. He’d complained to her before that the pouch he used for his magic crystals had a habit of slipping from his belt if he wasn’t paying attention, and she had noticed it was rather worn. Marinette was delighted at the way Luka’s jaw dropped when she presented him with a new leather pouch, with sturdy loops to hang on his belt and a fold over flap that buckled so he didn’t have to remove it to open it. She had embroidered it all over in the blues and greens he seemed to favor. She had only been slightly annoyed when the silly man wouldn’t stop kissing her long enough to put it on.

It gave her a little thrill to see him wearing it now, and the little smile he wore whenever he opened it or stowed his crystals away made her heart flutter happily, especially when he looked up from it to gaze softly at her.

That almost always led to more kissing, and that was just a bonus.

They were napping together on the rock again, after trading lazy kisses and touches that had been growing steadily bolder. She no longer moved away when his rough fingers played along the transition between scales and skin, setting her nerves alight, and he permitted her touch anywhere she dared to bestow it, whether with her hands or lips or her body. She quite enjoyed teasing him, and he made it clear that he enjoyed it too. She took a special delight in the way he tensed when she slid across his lap, and the way his big hands flexed on her, the slight jump of his hips. Not that she was any better when he stroked his big hands along her body, looking at her with an intensity in his eyes that melted her on the spot.

Marinette woke first, and roused herself with a stretch, before settling back against Luka’s chest. She had made him a little pillow to go behind his neck, to keep him from hurting himself in their little naps, and he wasn’t snoring now. She slipped away the bit of cloth he always covered his face with and admired the lines of his nose and jaw. She reached up to play with the strands of his hair. In sleep like this, he looked so delicate.

Delicate he may seem to her physically, but the strength of his character was more than enough to satisfy both her heart and her instincts. Those instincts were growing harder to resist by the day. Alya had given Marinette a horrified look the other day, when she found Marinette humming and sewing pillows to line the rock hollow where she slept—pillows that a naga had no need of.

“I like the feeling,” Marinette lied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re nesting ,” Alya had accused with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t be silly,” Marinette had sniffed, and turned her back, and refused to answer anything else.

Because if Alya knew...oh if Alya knew the kind of urges Marinette was fighting when she was with Luka...well.

Marinette reached out one clawed finger and ran the back of it down his temple and across his cheek, causing him to stir slightly. His hips raised up against her, where she was draped across him, and he moaned softly. Marinette slid her body up his and kissed him, softly at first, and then deeply when he woke and began to respond to her, his hands going to her waist, and then sliding up to her ribs. He moved against her again, and his arms tightened around her.

Marinette pulled back, pushing Luka back down as he made to follow her. He blinked at her sleepily, lids heavy with sleep and, she was sure, desire.

He desired her.

“I could kill you,” she murmured, her fingertips stroking lightly down his face. His eyes, though half-closed eyes, were focused on her. Luka lifted his chin so that her fingers slid down onto his throat. She felt his pulse under her fingers, only the thinnest of barriers between her claws and his life’s blood pounding through his veins. If she slashed, he would not even be able to sing himself well. Yet he lay there, calm and unafraid, yearning towards her instead of cringing away. Gods, she wanted him.

Marinette’s breath quickened and her pupils broadened. She laid her forehead against his and her tongue flicked out of its own accord to scent the scent air between them. “Fool,” she whispered harshly, with just the slightest tightening of her fingers.

Luka chuckled, and she felt the vibration of his voice against her fingers. “So I’ve been told.”

Did he know what he was doing to her? Should she tell him? This was dangerous territory, far more than the harmless flirting, the little chases and the touches that could mean anything or nothing, even the kissing that said they were more than friends, even more than the spiraling tension between them that made her insides heat and made her crave his hands and mouth on her. She couldn’t let him make gestures like this as if it were nothing.

Especially when she didn’t want it to be nothing. She didn’t want it to be meaningless. It was wrong of her to let this happen. She didn’t need to mark him to satisfy the desire burning between them. She didn’t need to claim him, but...

Even as she thought these things she was lowering her head. She felt him gasp as she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. She shifted slightly, opening her mouth and feeling her fangs come forward to hover over his skin.

He was breathing hard beneath her, but she scented no fear on him, only…

What she scented made her eyes dilate further, her coils shift and tighten with the urge to wrap around him. As she struggled with herself, Luka’s hand slid up from her waist, up her back to twist his fingers into her hair as his body arched against her, and her tongue flickered again, bringing in that intoxicating scent. Luka moaned as it tickled his skin.

“You should be frightened,” she breathed against neck.

“I’m terrified,” he rasped, and his thick voice sent a shiver through her. “You frighten me more than anything in this life.” She felt him swallow. “Because I love you, and the more time I spend with you, the more terrified I am that I will never be happy without you again.”

Marinette keened into his neck, a shiver going down her whole body. “I want to keep you,” she admitted roughly. “I shouldn’t, but I want to.”

“You already have me,” he said roughly, his grip on her hair tightening. “I don’t need promises. We don’t have to decide forever right now.” The hand on her waist moved away, and he gently pulled her clawed hand from his throat and twined his fingers through hers. “I want you. If you want me—”

She surged up, fangs finally settling back, and kissed him fiercely, filling his mouth with her tongue. “Yes,” she panted against him, finally letting herself wrap around his waist.

“Then we need to get the hell off this rock,” Luka laughed into her mouth, tugging on her hair to bare her throat where he could lavish kisses along it. He nipped her lightly with his blunt teeth and she jolted and let out a moan of her own. “Right now.”

Marinette giggled, and flipped them off onto the soft grass, cushioning him with her body.

“What shall I do with you?” she teased, hovering over him, and her tongue flicked out rapidly, tickling his ear and the line of his jaw and the hollow of his throat. He let out a little moan.

“Anything. Everything. Just don’t rip my clothes,” he chuckled. “I’m going to have to walk home eventually.”

Marinette laughed, rising up above him as she tugged loose the laces holding her vest closed. “What makes you think you’re still going to be able to walk?” she asked, as she slid the garment off her shoulders and dropped it carelessly in the grass.

Luka, staring up at her, could only make a strangled noise in reply.

Marinette swooped down and kissed him, pressing herself into him as she buried one hand in his hair and drew the other firmly down his chest to rest low on his belly. “Now take these off,” she ordered, claws flexing against the cloth. “Or I make no promises about ripping them.”

Luka caught her face in his hands and pulled her back into a fierce kiss that had her moaning against him. “Let me up,” he growled, and she did, sliding off of him and backing up until he had the space to stand and unlace his shirt and pants. Marinette watched him undress hungrily, his eyes burning her in return. Yet, when he held his arms out for her, she felt suddenly shy, and glided up to him, not with reluctance, but with something like reverence.

“You are beautiful,” she sighed, fingers tracing the lines of muscle down his chest. She sank lower as she ran her fingers along his hips and down his legs, fascinated. “You’re shaking,” she observed, tongue flicking out, but she still tasted no fear on him. She looked up at him as his fingers combed through her hair, and the look he was giving her sent her own pupils wide and round.

Luka’s knees buckled and he sank to the grass in front of her, catching her face to pull her to him in a fierce, hungry kiss. One hand reached to stroke the place on her waist where scales met skin, while the other guided her hand back to his leg. She pressed her fingers into his warm, soft skin, mindful of her sharp claws. He was strong here, muscle hard beneath his skin, flexing under her touch as he moved against her. Her head tipped back and her lips parted, and he moaned as she rubbed up against him. She sank back in the grass with a needy whine, pulling him with her.

There was some fumbling, and some adjustment, and some breathless, helpless giggles that melted into messy, deep kissing, but when they got it right, when they found the rhythm...it was magic. Shuddering and writhing, Marinette remembered just in time to dig her claws into the ground instead of his shoulders, and the cry he made seemed to sink into her soul, and she had just enough wit left to wonder if it was the magic of his voice or just the sound of his pleasure that shot through her, before she lost herself completely with a cry of her own.

Her coils loosened and relaxed where they had tightened around him, and slipped down to puddle inelegantly on the ground. The two of them lay in a heap, quivering and panting. They squirmed around until they could hold each other, and then gave into the weakness, laying there in blissful contentment.

Marinette reached up, and brushed a hand along her neck. The skin there was tender, but not broken. Not marked. Not claimed.

Of course not.

But she felt claimed, when Luka’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on her, and he smiled. She felt bound, as he lifted himself up on one quivering arm, to bend and press his lips softly to hers. He bent to rest his forehead against hers, and it felt like home.

“I think I love you too,” she breathed, and he pulled back just enough to blink sleepy eyes at her and smile. He lifted one of her hands and kissed the knuckle of each finger, and then pressed his lips to her palm, and then pressed her palm to his heart as he leaned closer and kissed her tenderly.

If she stayed with him, she would never have the kind of mate bond that her parents had, that Alya and Nino had. There would always be compromises, always. Challenges.

She didn’t want to think about that. Luka had said she didn’t have to, so Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into him. He curled his arms around her and returned the embrace, squeezing her tight. Marinette closed her eyes and tilted her chin up, and Luka nuzzled under it, kissed her neck, and bit lightly at her already tender skin. For a moment, she let herself pretend that the soft press of his blunt teeth meant more than it could.

“I love you,” he sighed against her skin. “My Marinette.”

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #the magic of you #lukanette #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #pro lukamari #fantasy au #naginette #mage!luka #nsfwish fic

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phantompearlsalt · 3 years

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Sour Cherry, Chapter 11

Aaaaand we’re back at it again folks with top!Kuvira ft. some fun ~bedroom accessories~ and other naughty acts 🤭 So of course, this is a very NSFW / Explicit chapter (a lovely combination of smut and fluff)! I’m glad I was able to post it before the week officially ended for me, as I will be going back to work tomorrow and that will affect my writing schedule. So be on the lookout for a post I’ll make later tonight with some updates! As always, feel free to check out the chapter on AO3 <3 Thank you for the continued love and support — y’all are the best!

Republic City is coated in a fresh layer of evening mist. With your arm looped around Kuvira’s, you gleefully watch as the shop lights reflect off the pools of rain and cast a magical glow across the roaming paths of concrete and stone.

Though it has stopped raining since you finished dinner, you feel the occasional drop land on your cheek or nose and every so often Kuvira will flick them away with her thumb. She smiles in a way that’s almost not a smile at all but to you it’s the most radiant expression in the entire city. The air is crisp, making your hands shiver, but it’s easily overlooked when a simple glance from Kuvira rouses a delightful warmth that starts in your toes and rises to your cheeks.

Today Kuvira insisted on giving you the best possible day she could in celebration of six months together. Between the lovely laziness of a morning spent in bed, an afternoon reading with pauses for naps, and a fantastic dinner at Republic City’s most popular spot for southern Earth Kingdom cuisine, you couldn’t conceive of a more perfect itinerary.

As you walk back to your apartment, you can’t stifle the intermittent giggles that bubble out of your mouth. Each time Kuvira will glimpse in your direction and pull you tighter against her body, eventually lifting her arm so it wraps around your shoulders instead. You lean your head against her and breath in her fresh, earthy scent. The pedestrians that come your way become nothing more than ephemeral flashes of movement because all you see and feel are Kuvira’s fond expression and her fingers folded over your shoulder.

When you finally make it to the door, Kuvira graciously opens it for you as you slip your shoes off. After securing each of the locks, she stands behind you so she can slide your coat down your arms and hang it on the rack. Before you can take another step, she brings her mouth to the back of your neck and presses a tender kiss at the tip of your spine.

The sensation of her lips made cool by the wintry air outside is a startling contrast against your skin and you twitch before melting into her touch. “Why don’t I make us some tea and you get ready for bed?” she murmurs. You turn around to cradle her face in your hands, pushing away some stray hands of hair that hang over her eyes, and bring your face close so you can press your lips together.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, kissing her briefly and relishing the residual flavor of puff pastry that glazes her mouth. She struggles to pull away from you completely, wrapping her arms around your waist to draw out the kiss for a few extra moments, before reluctantly breaking it and making her way to the kitchen.

You step into your slippers and pad over to your room, stretching your arms high above your head and sighing when your joints pop in response. Down the hall, you can hear the clutter of a pot hitting a stovetop and mugs clinking together as Kuvira sets about brewing your drinks.

By the time you are cloaked in your evening robe, tucked beneath Kuvira’s favorite olive comforter, she walks in and carefully places the mug between your palms. You notice she changed in the bathroom, now donning a loose black shirt with matching pants. An inviting aroma of ginseng wafts from the steaming cup and you are quick to take a tentative sip. “You would’ve made a great tea shop owner,” you tease over the rim. Kuvira shoots you an unimpressed glance before sliding into the bed beside you, pressing her toes against your shins.

“I don’t have that natural predisposition for customer service,” she sniffs. “Six months later and you still don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

Rolling your eyes, you place your mug on your bedside stand so you can turn around and bring your face close to Kuvira’s. “And you still can’t warm up to my dazzling sense of humor,” you huff. Her mouth cracks into a doting half-smile. “I wouldn’t say that,” she insists. “You have your moments. Maybe you just need to brush up on your comedic skills.”

You gasp theatrically and bring your hand to your forehead, falling backwards in a flourish. “My heart! I ought to punish you for such a flagrant stab to my ego,” you bemoan teasingly. Kuvira's arm lurches forward until it wraps over your waist and she’s pulling you against her side.

“That sounds awfully severe for something so inoffensive, don’t you think?” she hums, angling her face down so she can caress her mouth along your jaw. You sigh and twist a hand into her hair, undoing the already loose braid that hangs against her shoulder. “Maybe I can let it slide just this once,” you respond. You flick the metal clip to the ground where it lands with a gentle clang. Kuvira responds with a promising drag of her mouth up to your earlobe where she nips at it, making you jump against her body.

“Now what shall I do to express my gratitude for such benevolence?” she murmurs into your ear. You hum thoughtfully, rubbing your fingers against her scalp until her eyelids start to grow heavy, before responding, “I might have a few ideas…”

Not willing to tease anymore than you can stand, you bring your hand to her chin, pulling her forward until your lips meet in a fierce and intoxicating kiss. Without any conscious motive, your mind has stored away each infinitesimal detail of Kuvira’s mouth. Even with your eyes closed, before your lips even touch, when her kiss is a shadow hovering in the air where your breaths mingle, you know the artful swell of her plump lower lip that fits perfectly between your teeth. You know its delicate flavor as your tongue roams over the skin and the way it feels when you dare to bite.

Kuvira wiggles against you, her body arching ever so slightly, as you explore her mouth and hook a leg over her hip until you can feel the growing heat between her legs. She leverages the movement to slide her hand beneath the loose fabric of your robe until she cups your ass, squeezing hard enough for her blunt nails to dig into the muscle and make you gasp in pained pleasure.

She’s the one to disrupt the kiss and you look at her with a grimace. “I’m sure you have plenty of ideas,” she purrs, shifting her hand until it brushes between your thighs, sweeping her finger over the skin until it is coated and sticky. “But I’ve got a few of my own.”

Before you can respond, she removes herself from your body and leans back on her legs. You let your back sink into the mound of pillows, briefly wondering about your tea, as Kuvira’s eyes study your body with ravenous concentration. She moves forward an inch so she’s positioned just below you and she carefully spreads your legs apart with her hands. Her fingers linger over your thighs, barely covered by your robe, which she eyes with scarcely concealed impatience. She looks up at you and asks, “Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” you sigh, jutting your arm out so you can wrap your hand over Kuvira’s and bring it to the loose knot that holds everything together. She does not display an inkling of hesitancy as she tugs on the silk band and yanks it free. Her hand releases the fabric quickly so she can part the robe open, exposing your naked body that lies beneath it.

Her eyes continue to skate over you cravingly before she speaks. “Someone had some expectations tonight,” she chuckles. You lift your body up, tearing the robe out from under you and tossing it to the floor, and grab Kuvira by her shirt collar. “I don’t think I was the only one,” you whisper. “Come on then — you too.” You emphasize the statement by tugging on her shirt once more, floating your fingers down until you reach the hem. “Is this okay?” you ask.

“Of course,” she responds breathily, cocking her chin as indication for you to continue. Despite the plainness of her nightwear, you have always fancied the enticing contrast of dark cloth against her skin. It seems to accentuate her already striking features. Nevertheless you grip the shirt firmly and slide it upwards, revealing each glorious inch of Kuvira’s body. Your hands skim over her sides, feeling the occasional twitch of sinewy muscle beneath her feverish skin.

Kuvira is quick to remove the rest of her clothes thereafter, tossing her trousers and panties to the ground where they join the mounting heap of clothes. When she reclines back down, every point of contact where Kuvira’s naked skin touches yours grows ablaze with lust. The deliciously supple flesh of her breasts push against your chest, her hair cascading downwards and tickling your forehead and cheeks, her naked legs caged around yours. You position your hands along her waist, admiring that subtle dip where her upper body fades into her hips.

She brings her mouth to the base of your neck, pressing a single kiss before moving towards your ear. She breathes heavily and the resultant heat makes your body clench with anticipation and you tug her head closer. She pinches your earlobe again with her teeth and starts carrying the sensation down the rest of your throat. She pauses, laving her tongue over the side before carefully biting hard enough to produce an agitated gasp from your lips.

Your sounds appear to embolden her further and she starts to draw your skin between the sharp edges of her teeth. Your hands thrust up into her hair, pulling at the strands just hard enough for it to hurt exactly the way she likes it. As she worries the flesh in her mouth, you are certain you will have a vivid mark painted on your skin by dawn.

The thought doesn’t put you off and you know exactly why. The pain itself is certainly a gratifying payoff but there is something exhilarating about that erotic claim Kuvira likes to brandish to the world, that shows them who gets to see you in this most vulnerable and voluptuous state. Even after she’s fucked you into what feels like another plane of existence, you know she likes to flaunt the marks of her desire to the world. She would never ask you to (of course) but you make it a point to wear clothes that display each stain and scratch she’s imprinted onto your skin.

Kuvira removes her mouth with a wet popping sound, dragging her tongue along the tender patch. Her left hand moves to your chest where she gingerly takes your nipple in between her fingers, rolling it with just enough pressure to make you keen in pleasure. With this hand now preoccupied with other matters, she uses the right to steady herself as she continues her downward journey.

She peppers the skin all along your neck and collarbones with fevered kisses and the sporadic touch of her tongue over the hypersensitive skin. When she finally reaches your chest, she removes her fingers in lieu of closing her mouth over your nipple instead. She carefully grazes her teeth over the hardened bump and bites down, waiting for a reaction. You exhale sharply and lift your legs until they’re wrapped around her back, digging your heels into the muscles flexing around her spine.

She spends her precious time on this part of your body, affording painstaking attention to every sound and movement you create to ensure she continues drawing them out. You manage to poke through the libidinous fog encasing your mind, looking down and making eye contact with her. Her gaze is bold and tenacious, in characteristic Kuvira fashion. She cocks an eyebrow as if to provoke you but you don't have the temper to fight back tonight.

So instead, you use your grip in her hair to apply downward pressure and hope she’ll take the hint. Her expression smooths over and she moves away from your chest, pressing one final kiss to your sternum before licking a long, wet line towards your hips.

At this point, your legs are stretched wantonly across the bed and Kuvira’s hands now hold your hips in place. She lifts one of those exquisitely sculpted hands, extending a finger to draw swirling patterns over your pelvis which she then follows with her tongue. She stops at the juncture between your hip and your thigh, brushing her nose along the line of muscle and whispering something against it that makes your skin flare up in goosebumps.

Your entire body is frenzied with want and it’s especially present in the insufferable quivering of your legs. Kuvira notices this and tucks her hands under your knees, lifting them up until they rest over her shoulders and her face is positioned neatly between your thighs. “Maybe that’ll help,” she croons, turning her face to the right so she can kiss the bare skin.

Your head falls deeper into the cushions, unable to carry the weight of your back any longer when Kuvira’s face looks like that and she’s clearly intent on pushing your self-control to its breaking point.

She turns her face away from your leg and looks to your soaking folds of flesh. “Tell me...what do you want?” she breaths. Your eyes clench shut and you grip the bedsheets with desperate force. “I-I want you to touch me,” you gasp out.

Kuvira purses her lips and tightens her arms around your legs. “I’m sorry, I think you’ll need to be more specific,” she responds. “Do you want me to touch you right here?” A flick of her tongue against your hip bone. “Or perhaps right here?” A gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “Maybe you were referring to this?” A suggestive brush of her lips right above the swollen bud that displays the scale of your lust.

You inhale sharply and attempt to push up but Kuvira’s hands rigidly hold you in place. “Tell me: where do you want me to touch you?” she murmurs. “Right there,” you say shakingly. You are unable to elaborate further, partially because your mind seems outright incapable of coherent thought but you are suddenly overcome by an uncharacteristic wave of bashfulness.

“Mmm, I see,” Kuvira whispers. “Do you want me to touch you right here?” The question ends with her finger brushing over your vulva, where she coats her finger in the stream of come that has started spreading against your leg. When you nod, she pauses and you muster up every remaining ounce of control you have to hold back your shout of desperation. “You don’t want me to just touch here though. Oh no, you want me to fuck you with my fingers don’t you?”

“You sure talk a lot of shit without backing it up,” you hiss. To this, Kuvira grins and says, “Don’t underestimate me,” before she finally starts sinking a finger deep inside.

You feel every single knuckle and joint as it drives into your body. As always, Kuvira starts off deliberately slow to ensure you grow accustomed to the feeling. The moment you begin twisting on the bed and snapping your hips against her touch, she adds one more finger, and another, before pumping them in and out with a steady but relentless speed.

Your bedroom is soon filled with a cacophony of salacious outbursts: a series of groans and choked gasps, the occasional wet sound of Kuvira’s mouth on your cunt when it joins her fingers, and finally Kuvira’s moan when you press up against her face.

Eventually she pulls her fingers out, a strand of come hanging in the air between her hand and your body. She looks directly into your eyes as she brings it to her mouth and licks the remnants away, coiling her tongue around the digits. “I told you I had other plans,” she says huskily, pushing herself towards your face so she can briefly touch your mouths together. “Give me a sec.”

You can’t help but feel hopelessly awkward lying on the bed like this, totally naked and gasping for air while Kuvira leans over to her bedside stand. She spends a few seconds shuffling through her belongings before she apparently finds what she’s looking for.

When she faces you again, your eyes land on a splendidly familiar sight. Your thoughts immediately begin conjuring obscene images of what Kuvira has planned for you until they are interrupted by her voice. “Is it okay to use this?” she asks. You nod eagerly and the “yes” is uttered without a second thought.

She then flicks open the small pink bottle, pouring a sizable clump of the thick liquid into her palm. She rolls the fluid against her fingers before coating it along the toy, warming it with her hand, and bringing it close to your body.

“You tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop,” she reminds you. You cup her face in your palm, offering her a loving grin, before urging her to go on. She uses one arm to hold herself up above you while the other starts pushing it inside your body. The tip starts pressing in and you close your eyes as you refamiliarize yourself with the sensation. Kuvira’s touch warmed it up enough that it does not catch you off guard per se but it still takes a few moments to grow accustomed to it. You nod when you’re ready for more and Kuvira pushes it in deeper, causing your breath to snag in your throat.

By the time most of it is inside, she starts pumping it back and forth in an excruciatingly slow manner. You know it will be worth it once she starts fucking you with it herself but in the moment it only seems to tease you further. Very little time passes until you start huffing loudly and pushing against the toy, at which point Kuvira easily detects your impatience and drags it back out.

“Get on your knees,” she demands. Though your limbs seem unable to move in any way whatsoever, you summon what little strength you have left to follow through immediately, pushing your hands against the pillows and lifting your ass towards Kuvira. There’s a brief moment of pause where you hear the soft sounds of buckles clicking into place before her hands gently hook onto your hips.

“I’m going to go slow, alright? Let me know if you need me to stop,” she says softly. You nod and impatiently push back which naturally makes her chuckle.

Just as she did moments ago, Kuvira presses forward tentatively. Her hands are a grounding force in the midst of your hazy arousal and you focus on them as the toy slowly slips back into your body. There’s little resistance this time — your body recognizes the sensation immediately and invites it in, pulling the ribbed object deeper and deeper.

Kuvira pauses when it’s almost completely inside, waiting to see how you might react. “Oh just fuck me already, would you?” you sigh, not bothering to suppress the tremor in your voice. It’s all the encouragement she needs to start plunging into your body with long and heavy strokes. When Kuvira starts hitting that small bundle of nerves that further rouses your lust, your jaw slackens and heady moans accompany each thrust of Kuvira’s hips against your ass. Within moments, Kuvira joins with a similar pattern of unsteady breathing and soft groans that mix with your own.

Every stimuli in and around can only be described as sublime: the unrelenting strokes that push in and out of your body, the grip of Kuvira’s hands wrapped tightly around your hips, the growing pool of moisture that cascades down your thighs and quite possibly ruining the bedsheets rubbing against your knees.

“Harder,” you gasp and Kuvira doesn’t hesitate. She maintains her pace but pauses when she’s fully inside, grinding forward until the tip pokes at that spot again and nearly has you collapsing onto the pillows. When your arms start shaking, Kuvira mutters, “I got you.”

She starts pulling on your hips in a back-and-forth motion, fucking you on the dildo herself. Your cheek finally drops onto the bed and your entire body shifts as Kuvira roughly starts pounding into you. You smirk at the crude sound of your ass slapping against her body, rarely able to discern the difference between pain and pleasure because the latter has overpowered everything else. The feeling intensifies when Kuvira’s hand lands sharply against your backside mid-thrust. The sudden gesture makes you gasp, followed by a pleasured moan that has her smacking you yet again.

You can already see the smug look on Kuvira’s face two days from now when you’re limping around the apartment.

As Kuvira fucks you ruthlessly, you feel yourself starting to reach that precipice that will throw you over the edge. Your thighs shake even harder, your toes start to curl, and your breathing loses any semblance of a pattern whatsoever.

But just as you near that threshold, Kuvira stops yet again and starts to pull out. Your hands scramble helplessly on the bed and you’re about to whine in protest when Kuvira starts placing the harness atop your clothes on the floor. She leans down so she can bring her mouth to your spine, sprinkling kisses along each ridge and cupping your ass where she then drags her tongue along one cheek.

“You’re not getting off like that tonight,” she murmurs, maneuvering until she’s on her back beside you and pulling you on top of her. “Sit up,” she commands and you shakily lean back on your legs until you're sitting just above her pubic bone. Though you aren’t quite sure what she’s leading up to, you find yourself mesmerized by her disheveled appearance.

There has always been something particularly satisfying about seeing this raunchier side of Kuvira. Everyone she meets knows her to be nothing but smooth, clean lines, pristine clothes, and a closed-off personality. But you? You get to see her at her most defiled: eyes glazed over with longing, her soft brown nipples hardened, lips reddened with heated kisses and scraping teeth, her hair tangled into knots and falling over her face.

She lifts her hands from her sides so they can grab your hips again, pulling you upwards until you have no choice but to lift your body up and rest on your knees. “Kuvira? I…” You start when she cuts you off.

“I’m gonna fuck you with my mouth,” she purrs, shifting downwards until her face is right below your cunt. You look down at her incredulously, nearly huffing out laughter but you’re so overwhelmed with shock nothing comes out. “Is that okay?” she asks.

She looks up at you with a sickeningly playful expression, waiting for you to nod before taking that final dive that connects her mouth to your clit. You moan heavily and instantly grab the headboard in front of you, afraid your control might give out and you’ll topple over her.

Kuvira, on the other hand, seems completely unconcerned by the prospect and merely wraps her arms around your thighs to press you tighter against her mouth. Her tongue, which has so scrupulously memorized every movement that drives you closer to the point of orgasm, moves across the wet folds of your flesh with unequaled dexterity. She starts in circular motions, slowly moving upwards until she reaches your clit where she adds the perfect amount of pressure that nearly has you climaxing right then and there.

When you start thrusting forward and downward, she simply changes her approach and synchronizes her movements with yours. Her tongue slides up and down, occasionally dipping inside past your vulva where the toy had previously been, fucking you with her mouth instead.

She must sense the tension in your legs from holding yourself up since she pulls away in panting breaths. “Don’t hold back,” she reassures you. “You can’t break me.”

It’s all you need to finally release yourself to the overwhelming passion consuming every rational thought you have. You harden your grip on the headboard and start riding your mounting orgasm on Kuvira’s face, sighing when her hands start clawing into your ass.

She moans against the pressure and the vibrations quake through your muscles, spurring you move faster until you’re all but writhing over her mouth. Her tongue never wavers and it’s precisely that masterful consistency that has you tipping over the edge. It starts in your toes — a prickling sensation that starts spreading across every other limb. A searing heat radiates from your core into your chest, filling you with a feeling that very nearly stops your breath altogether.

Oftentimes, your orgasm catches you off guard, hitting you like the unexpected shock of a torrential downpour. But this time, it’s a sensuous culmination of stimuli building up over many minutes. When you finally reach your climax, it washes over you in heavy waves until you reach a pinnacle that is pure and absolute euphoria.

You cry out in bliss, riding it out against Kuvira’s mouth until you eventually feel yourself coming back into your mind and body and Kuvira’s tongue has stopped moving. She’s opted to brush her mouth along your inner thigh, dropping a kiss onto every piece of skin she can reach. You carefully raise yourself up from your sitting position and collapse beside her, watching Kuvira’s expression gleam with silent enjoyment as you catch your breath.

When you’re finally able to speak again, you ask her, “Are you alright?” She chuckles briefly and brings her fingers to your face, lovingly stroking them across your cheekbone. “I’m fine. I think you should be asking yourself that,” she says, bringing your bodies flush against each other. You fling a leg over hers and burrow your face into her chest, feeling her pounding heartbeat as you rest your cheek against the silky flesh of her breast.

“Aside from having to walk with a limp for about a week, I’d say I’m holding up okay,” you laugh. You can already feel the pleasurable ache in your lower back but the thought of this twinge following you in the days to come is thrilling to say the least.

“I’ll get us some towels. Do you need anything else?” she asks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You hum contentedly and wrap your arms tight across her back. “Just don’t take too long,” you mumble into her neck. She kisses you once more before untangling herself from your body and strolling over to the bathroom.

As she walks back, you don’t think you’ll ever tire of this sight. Kuvira is absolutely resplendent in every form but she will always leave you speechless when she appears before you like this: her black hair hanging heavy and tousled over her shoulders and across her back, her green eyes glimmering with excitement yet hooded over with exhaustion, the curves and bends of her breasts, her waist, her hips. You marvel at the lovely expanse of tanned skin stretched over gracefully chiseled muscle.

She is a total vision.

Kuvira, being the thoughtful lover she is, wipes you down first before using the second towel to clean herself up. She does so delicately, keeping her movements tender and prudent so as not to overstimulate your already sensitive nerves.

Once she has folded and tossed the towels into your hamper, she flicks off the lights and curls herself around your body so her face is a mere finger’s width away from yours. “How was today?” she asks earnestly. You smile and rub the tip of your nose against hers. “It was absolutely perfect,” you respond.

“Dinner was okay?” she insists. You grin and cup her face in your hands. “I loved it. There wasn’t a single thing out of place. The best part though? Seeing you for a whole day and knowing I have you for the rest of my life.”

For a moment you swear you see the sparkle of galaxies swirling within those emerald irises.

#sour cherry #kuvira x reader #kuvira/reader #kuvira legend of korra #avatar lok #x reader #reader insert #smut #shameless smut #canon divergent au #it's been a cooooool minute since I've written outright smut like this so uh be nice pls 😭

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sequelkilled · 2 years

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this is literally just me being emo about a choice in the costume design department for 902 words you do no have to read this i needed this out of my system this is my mental illness coming through rfhrgrifhdife its not even formatted hehe

he’s getting ready for class that morning , actually ahead of schedule ; a rareity for him , especially with classes this early . so randy’s only half paying attention to the tv as he’s grabbing his bag , thinking he might actually have the time to eat something besides half a bagel when a report of two dead windsor students catches his ears . he normally wouldn’t give it a second thought --- ( plenty of people are just killed , before and after what billy and stu did ), but as randy glances to the screen as sees a picture of the movie theater promoting the preview of the new stab movie fills the screen , his stomach drops and his appetite is long gone .

he has half a mind to call sid , to know if she’s heard anything , but he stops himself last second . she might not know , and randy does not want to be the one who tells her , who scares her about this . they’ve both been on edge about the movie premiere this week , and this isn’t going to help either of them .

this might not even have anything to do with them . it could just be a coincidence . some movie fans could be weird , maybe it was someone wrapped up in the moment . this has nothing to do with them .

and maybe if it wasn’t two people from the college , he’d believe himself more .

he’s writing in his notebook , putting everything he knows about horror movie sequels , their own set of rules , the common tropes and expectations .

sid is safe , she almost has to be . she’s the final girl of the last one , and no good movie just kills their final girl off in the next one .

gale is probably safe too ; she was instrumental in stopping the killings the first time , she literally wrote the book on these murders now .

dewey’s the fun , good natured cop who made it to the end , a fan favorite in the media stories about the murders for that alone .

check , check , check , all three of them were safe from this . they had to be .

and he wants to put himself down there too . he’s the funny friend , he’s the voice of the audience in the theaters , he’s the one who can help them out of this because he knows how these tropes work .

but he’s also alive by sheer luck , like dewey , never really a target in the first place ( he’s pretty sure ) , he’s the side character of this story . and in these sequels , you want to kill off someone close enough to the main group to show them how serious things were , but also someone expandable to the main story . he would work ---

randy slams his notebook closed quickly . no , no . this wasn’t a movie . this wasn’t friday or halloween . there’s no tropes or expectations . this is real life , there’s no reason a second spree of killings would follow rules or tropes .

this might not even be a spree . it might have nothing to do with them . it doesn’t have anything to do with them . they were all fine .

still , out of the corner of his eye he sees his camera on the edge of his desk , the wires in the drawer under it . he checks the time ; he doesn’t mind bagels for breakfast that much . maybe filming something would be weirdly calming , quell this anxiety in his stomach . he can make it a just in case . in case this is bad . in case he doesn’t make it . in case these killings happen again when he’s gone .

a trilogy ? no way . but maybe ?

it doesn’t take long for him to set everything up , get the right angles for the room , and he’s pretty sure his roommate shouldn’t be back for a few minutes . nobody would know if he was overreacting . so randy stands in front of the camera , hitting the record button before he backs himself into the frame .

“ told you i’d make a movie someday ! ”

----

he was happy to just leave that tape alone , buried in a desk drawer , like it was some weird therapy session with himself .

but then sid was attacked by someone in the ghostface mask , and derek was in the hospital with a slash on his arm ( suspicious ? ) , and cici is dead . he liked cici too --- she’s was friendly and nice and knew what she was talking about in their class , and she didn’t deserve to die .

randy opens his desk drawer and finds the vhs tape he recorded the video on , laying it on the desk as he grabs tape and a marker . maybe its a combination of everything that happened tonight along with the drinks from the party that makes him feel like it’s the most urgent thing right now , or maybe all that is making him clear headed enough to know he has to do this . he labels it “ SCARY MOVIES 101” and finds something to wrap it in , before putting it with the rest of his stuff , easy enough to hide so someone like paul doesn’t just grab it , but easy to find for someone who has to go through his things .

( it actually makes his stomach drop , to think someone in his family would probably find it and watch it and know he had an idea of what was going to happen , but he has to do it . he has to leave some sort of legacy , just in case . )

#нow тo ѕυrvιve a нorror мovιe : character study.#i guess bc its for ME #why is this so long my bad hehe #pls read more work #just in case #long post //

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musings-from-mars · 3 years

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part 4 por favor? Maybe Ruby starts noticing the "tension" between Cinder and Blake and starts setting them up?

Freelance Love Triangle AU - Part 4

They arrived at the outdoor gallery, and Ruby was already zipping around here and there, thinking out loud about angles and framing, all while gushing about the art on display, choosing her favorites. “This is so cool!” She said to Blake and Cinder.

“It’s a lovely installation,” Cinder agreed, the corner of her mouth turned up. “Don’t you think so, Blake?”

It was a pretty magnificent showcase. Crude marble pillars of varying heights and widths stood in a seemingly random arrangement, each with art pieces hung on the sides. The pieces of 3D art stood in spaces between pillars. While there were two equally tall pillars that served as the “entrance” to the exhibition, it was open air and seemingly boundless, as the pillars became fewer and farther between the further from the center you moved.

At the very center of the gallery was a massive metal sculpture of what looked like a suit of armor, but it was matte black, and the plates of armor were spaced out from one another so it was easy to see right through the gaps. It stood on a concrete cube labeled “SOAPBOX” with “various artists” engraved underneath. The artists were making a point, and Blake’s mind raced trying to decipher what it might be.

But then Ruby started talking to Cinder, and that broke Blake’s focus immediately.

“The suit is faceless, and the armor having such obvious gaps indicates that the suit is vulnerable,” Cinder explained to Ruby as she looked up at the sculpture, which Ruby craning her neck to do the same. “Yet it stands on a soapbox, elevated and arrogant, despite the flaws in its defenses. I think it makes a point about the illusions of authority and strength of those in power, and the general populace’s compliance despite the obvious flaws that everyone can see if they look close enough.”

“Woah, that’s so cool…” Ruby murmured with wonder.

Blake didn’t want to feel as annoyed as she did, because Cinder’s take on it was pretty much exactly how Blake viewed the piece, but dammit, she wanted to impress Ruby too! She tried to come up with something original to say, but she didn’t want to sound desperate. Cinder was too smooth and eloquent.

“I imagine it took a long time to fashion the metal and assemble it, probably took several weeks, even for a team of artists,” Cinder pondered.

“If you were to get into contact with the artists, you might know for sure,” Blake remarked, not intending to sound so combative, but it was said. “There’s more to this than what the viewer can interpret. Anyone can come around here and write an article about what they think it all means in a day, but we’re putting together something bigger. We need testimonies from the artists, opinions of other creatives…”

Cinder had turned from the sculpture and was glaring at her, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, isn’t that why you’re here? You’re the networking specialist, after all.”

“It’s your project too, you know,” Blake said, stepping closer to her, then sort of regretting doing that now that she was close enough to smell her perfume. “I’m not doing all the interviews while you sit back and write down your opinions. You’ve got to pull your weight.”

“I’ve pulled plenty of weight. I haven’t even shown you the drafts I have yet,” Cinder countered, and for some reason thought it appropriate to smile at Blake. She looked down her nose a bit at her, making Blake resent Cinder’s slight height advantage. “After all, isn’t it only fair that I handle the majority of the writing, you acquire the testimonies, and Ruby handles the accompanying media? Let’s all do what we’re good at here, huh?”

Blake hated it when she made a good point. She wanted to counter-argue but she knew that would be counterproductive. “So I’m going have to handle all of the interviews? That will take up so much of my work time, you really will be on the hook for pretty much all of the writing.”

“Like I said, it’s what we’re good at,” Cinder repeated and shrugged. She leaned her weight on one leg in that sexy way that kind of pissed Blake off. “You think so, Ruby?”

Ruby had been silent the whole time, pressing her lips together as she stood by during the intense exchange. When she heard her name spoken, she snapped out of it a bit and blinked. “Oh, yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Uhm, Robyn wanted us to allocate, right?”

“Right,” Cinder agreed and nodded. “That was easy, we’ve already allocated. Wonderful job, team.”

If Blake gritted her teeth any harder she’d have to book a dentist appointment. Thankfully, Cinder took that moment to turn away from her and walk over to one of the gallery’s pillars, swaying her hips like an annoying exotic bird.

I hate you I hate you I haaaaate you—

“Ruby, I think if you got one of these pillars in the foreground with the sculpture in the background, that could maybe be a candidate for cover,” Cinder said.

Ruby hurried over to look at what she meant, leaving Blake standing next to Soapbox, shoulders slumped forward and her face burning hot.

Was getting cover worth it? Was getting to work with Ruby worth how insufferable and annoying aloof Cinder was? Blake was seriously considering it, but then she watched as Ruby giggled at something Cinder said, and she knew then that she had to stick with this, for whatever other reasons, but mostly to make sure Ruby and Cinder didn’t become a thing.

Was that shitty of her? Maybe. But the thought of that happening made her blood boil.

~~~

“How about I take you both for a drink?”

The offer felt like it came out of nowhere. The three of them were waiting on a bench not far from the gallery. Night had fallen, and while they had gotten plenty of photos and Blake had gotten the chance to take some notes about the various artists, it wasn’t that late. Blake was about to hail a rideshare because she just wasn’t in the mood to walk all the way home, but (while she kind of hated that she did), Blake considered Cinder’s offer.

“That sounds like fun, sure!” Ruby said. She sat between Blake and Cinder, tapping away at her laptop as she backed up the photos of the day. Even as time went on, she hadn’t lost any energy, which Blake was impressed by. She certainly couldn’t say the same for herself she was fresh out of college.

“Lovely,” Cinder said with a smile.

Well, if Ruby was going with Cinder, Blake was definitely going, too. “Sure. I could use a drink. But I’m not staying out late, nor should any of us. We’ve got more work to do tomorrow.”

Cinder nodded knowingly. “Just a little excursion. We’ll save the proper night out for Friday.” Blake couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “I know I nice little bar near here. It’s the quaint type, for hipsters like us.”

Blake chuckled a bit at that. “Great, I love craft beer,” she said sarcastically.

“I’ve never had anything other than hard seltzer,” Ruby admitted with a shy chuckle. “Do they have that?”

“I’m sure they do, hun,” Cinder assured her with a smile that made the hairs on the back of Blake’s neck stand up.

Ruby rubbed the back of her neck bashfully as she shut her laptop, having finished saving her images. “Not to be a stereotypical gay or anything.”

Blake snorted a laugh, then blushed at the fact she’d snorted. “What, do gays like hard seltzer?”

“I guess?” Ruby shrugged, still blushing.

“I’m more of a red wine lesbian myself, we all have our tastes,” Cinder told her, her voice dripping with a flirtatious lull, as if she were already a glass deep.

Blake chewed on the inside of her mouth. She figured “whatever sounds good at the time bisexual” wouldn’t sound as sexy as red wine lesbian. Then again, she’d never had a hard seltzer. “I’ll get whatever you get, Ruby. I’m curious.”

Ruby giggled, her cheeks rosy and dimpled when she grinned. “Oh no, now I really hope you like it or else I’ll seem like I have bad taste.”

Blake smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry, hun, I think I’ll like it just fine.” She felt proud of herself for slipping a “hun” in there like Cinder had. The combination of Ruby blushing and Cinder shooting her a glare of recognition was a satisfying confidence boost.

Ruby tapped her feet on the concrete a few times, like she was letting out a sudden excess of energy, and she hopped off the bench. “We should go! The night’s not getting any younger, right?”

Cinder stood with her, her hands tucked in her jacket pockets. “We should. I’ll lead the way.”

Blake sighed as she followed, the group beginning to follow Cinder’s lead away from the park. She hoped she’d seen the end of Cinder’s funny business, but she knew that was a hope in futility. She had to be planning something, right?

The best Blake could think to do was be there to see what it was.

#freelance love triangle au #pawling petals #rwby #ruby rose #blake belladonna #cinder fall #drabble

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ante--meridiem · 2 years

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2021 Fanfic Year In Review

Given I've only managed to write one fic this year this is going to be pretty monotonic, but I've been tagged twice (thanks @personalmephistopheles and @vestriis!) so I should probably try it at least.

Total # of Completed Works

One, as mentioned - a poison that never stung

Total Word Count

8,351 (published, not counting uncompleted drafts)

Fandoms I’ve Written In

The Magnus Archives

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected?

Well, I'd hoped to write more but worried I wouldn't manage anything, so it averages out to about as expected

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year?

Well, I have plenty more tma fic ideas, most of which I'm not sure if I'll end up going with or not, but the one I definitely want to try is a fake statement collection where I get to explore angles of entities that I feel like canon missed. Would also like to write something for The Silt Verses, and maybe even for Critical Role.

Original writing, I have a few ideas but would be happy if I get to write anything at all. Might try to get back into poetry, it's less time consuming and I used to be pretty decent at it.

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?

I mean. I only wrote one.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year?

....So, I like to go dark with my writing, but usually that means psychologically dark - I'm not as comfortable writing violence, but since the fic I wrote was focused on The Slaughter as an entity, I kind of had to, with the added challenge of making it feel visceral enough to have the needed effect but at the same time sufficiently not-real to keep the supernatural dreamlike vibe tma entities have. I'm pretty happy with my handling of that tbh.

Most Popular Story Of The Year?

I only wrote one.

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion

Again. Just one. And I don't think it's underappreciated, I was pretty pleasantly surprised by the attention it got.

Most Fun Story To Write

The only one I wrote. I don't know that "fun" is really the word I'd use to describe the process though, I more pushed through it and was satisfied at finally being able to make myself produce something I consider pretty good, by my standards anyway, but I did manage to get into a flow state writing it, so.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story

I don't think this story was particularly telling, because while Melanie is a fun character to think about she's not one I actually identify with very strongly. Maybe the very few people in real life who have witnessed intense bursts of anger from me would say the way I write her flaws is telling, but the fact that those people are very few suggests to me that I'm not actually that much like her at all. Even when I deliberately was drawing on my own flaws to figure out how to write hers, it felt like a much more emotionally distanced thing than drawing on myself for writing characters usually does. I can immerse myself in Melanie's headspace quite well but I don't think it's reflective of mine, except maybe for a few very very brief flashes at certain points. Honestly I think this is why I was able to write this story at that point - dipping my toes into tma fandom, with how... discoursey... it was at one point, felt risky, and I wouldn't have wanted to do it with any of the more vulnerable stories I could have gone for. Plus, it was refreshing to escape my at the time not great mental state into an entirely different flavour of unhealthy!

There are definitely very telling tma stories I could have written, mainly revolving around The Lonely or The Eye. I may still write one of those, now I have a bit more confidence.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year?

See "biggest challenge".

Biggest Disappointment

I did feel a bit underwhelmed when I finished writing this fic? I put a lot of effort into it, and I think it turned out quite good technically speaking, if I say so myself, but I didn't feel the emotional investment I've felt before while writing and I forgot about it pretty soon after finishing it. But recently I was reminded of it by some other people finding it and upon reread I like it a lot more than I remember, so... it was probably the anhedonia that made me underwhelmed with it at first, I'm quite proud of it now.

Biggest Surprise

Can't say there was any?

Tagging: not sure what mutuals write fic these says but let's say @meteorstricken @space-city-traffic @fakeblondeabigailhobbs and anyone else who wants to.

#Tag game

2 notes · View notes

yodawgiherd · 3 years

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You Were Never Truly Gone ch.4

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Finally heading to the M-rated waters, as I promised. Fluff and smut and a bit of worldbuilding, because a story should have a plot. Last I checked...

Despite all the bold words, nothing happened in the end. They were both tired as hell, after watching the stars the whole night, so in mutual agreement it was decided to postpone anything intimate to a later date. Secretly, they were grateful for that. Eren, because this was his first night with Mikasa since coming back, and simply holding was overflowing his senses. Mikasa, because there was that teeny tiny chance that this is still a dream, that she will wake up in the morning alone in her bed.

There was no space between the two during the night. Eren curled himself around her, whispered good night, they shared a kiss and Mikasa fell asleep with a big smile on her face because this was something she always dreamed about happening. To make things better, he didn’t disappear in the morning, snoring softly into the skin of her neck. And with that morning, where the sun shined over her cabin, their new life began.

A week passed.

Mikasa cut Eren’s hair, making it shorter, but declined his offer on doing the same. Hers was long now and getting even longer, but there was no need to restrain it anymore. No ODM gear to tangle into, no fear that an enemy might grab her. For the first time in her life, Mikasa was completely at peace, both internally and externally.

It showed in her posture, in her face, in every part of her life, and Eren loved it. He didn’t even realize it before, but Mikasa rarely laughed, giggled, or showed any sort of happiness out loud. Then again, with life as traumatic as hers, once should not be surprised. Not anymore – now she was laughing and smiling and overall doing those sounds that made Eren’s heart flutter wildly. She was his everything, simple as that, and making her happy was a much better mission than trying to survive in a world of titans or destroying an empire threatening to crush them.

There was always some work around the cabin, from cutting the wood and caring for the few animals to hunting, yet Eren was a quick learner. With him around, even the dullest of chores were fun, because Mikasa had everything she wanted. A home. A man that she loved and that loved her back. Well, maybe not everything, because Mikasa always wanted to have a family too, but there would be enough time for that. For now, life was idyllic.

Also, it was time for some questions.

“Mikasa,” he began one time over late breakfast, “What did Armin say about our time in the paths?”

She watched him over her toast for a few seconds, took a bite, and chewed, clearly buying time. Even after all that, her words were guarded. Mikasa did not enjoy remembering the past, because it was the time of the greatest pain in her life – a time when she was alone.

“He told me that you said that you loved me, and you wanted us to be together.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, he also mentioned that you never wanted me to find another guy.”, she frowned at him, “I should be mad at you for that, did you expect to die and I was supposed to what? Be alone for the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, that was inappropriate, but I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again.”, her hand on the table, Eren reached over to caress it, “Will you forgive me if I tell you a detail Armin left out?”

From the crinkle in his eye, it would be a good one.

“You have a deal, Yeager.”

“The thing is, I didn’t say those words while staring into the distance, unbothered by everything. No, I threw a tantrum.”

“You what?”

“Like a child. I cried and sat in the water where Armin knocked me, screaming that I wanted to be with you.”

The mental image made Mikasa’s heart ache.

“Eren I…”

“Yea, I was desperate back then.”

The emptiness in Mikasa’s chest echoed its memory, the hollow feeling he left behind when dead. To chase it away, she stood up and rounded the table, seating herself in Eren’s lap. She held his head, angling it up, staring right into those beautiful emeralds.

“Well, we are together now.”

The way he looked at her – it was as if Eren was watching the sun, a beauty so incredible that he couldn’t put it to words. Adoration was a weak one because it didn’t even come close to what he felt for Mikasa.

“So we are…”, he whispered, and then she was kissing him again, the breakfast forgotten for now.

Despite all these little romantic pauses, there was work to be done.

Eren was not passive, offering his own ideas on how to make the cabin even cozier, and most of them were good. They put together a table outside, a few chairs, the woodwork coming naturally to their hands, skilled with blades. Yet work with blades is always dangerous, and one failed woodcarving later Eren was suddenly bleeding from a deep cut on his palm, staring at the red line in annoyance.

Mikasa was quick to move, collecting alcohol and bandages, but Eren waved her down, amused by her actions.

“What are you doing? It will heal.”

But it didn’t. No steam, no quick fix-it, only pain, and more blood, and a realization knocked on the front door of Eren’s mind. Right, he didn’t have his powers anymore.

A nigh professional bandage around his injured hand, as Mikasa had plenty of experience with patching wounds, Eren was forced to lie down, and he stared at his hand while she cleaned the mess he left behind. As always. Sure, it hurt like a bitch and would probably heal for a few days, but Eren smiled on the wound. This - this pain, this felt good. It felt good to be alive.

And the pain was far from the only emotion in the cabin, as things got heated too.

Mikasa adored kissing, Eren was more than happy to assist, and their days were often interrupted by these moments. Completely at random, with no reason other than want. A good morning kiss, a good night kiss, a random smooch while passing each other, a make-out session while hunting that scared the poor deer for life.

He learned that Mikasa’s neck and ears were her weak points, abusing that knowledge shamelessly. Covering the porcelain perfection with marks was a new favorite pastime of his.

Her beauty was ethereal. Be it the contrast between the pale skin and raven hair, now long enough to cascade past her shoulders, or the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. In his life, Eren could never appreciate beauty. It was filled with dread, with death and blood, with titans and the war. He lived to survive, lived to draw a struggling breath while the world wanted him dead. Only when he truly died did his life change. Now he had time. Time to stop and appreciate the scenery, time to look at Mikasa and see what he was missing all these years.

Eren didn’t think that “beautiful” described what she was. Sunrise was beautiful. The stars, high up in the sky, were beautiful. The flowers Mikasa grew in a part of her garden were beautiful.

Not her.

Somehow, she made everything better. Sunrise was nothing compared to her smile. The stars were enjoyed the best when she was with him, lying on the roof and counting them, giggling anytime Eren tried to find a shape in those lights. The flowers put together created a crown that Mikasa planted on his head, and Eren was the king of the garden for a good minute – a position he would take over the founding titan any day of the week.

No, Mikasa wasn’t simply beautiful. She was perfection.

Evenings were the best because they got to lie down on the roof and watch the stars, hand in hand. It was here that most of their physical exploration took place. Over the clothes at first, a touch here and there, a gentle caress and a quick retreat when the other party gasped, only to be told that “It felt good.” Feelings were a topic hard to describe, but they worked together and were slowly bringing that wall down, brick by brick.

The roof adventures evolved. The kisses were more intense, the touches bolder, the rut of his clothed hips into hers harsh. When Mikasa craved some, all she had to do was meet Eren’s gaze, give him her version of “sexy” eyes and bite her bottom lip, and he was rolling on top of her before she could even giggle.

The evening kisses were slow and sensual because there was no rush. Their work for the day was done, and no amount of stars could ever be as mesmerizing as the girl in Eren’s arms. He would much rather watch her eyes than see the moon. Maybe it was the primal need to please her, maybe it was a magnetic pull, maybe it was…

Who was he kidding, Eren was just a frustrated and horny virgin - that’s it.

So, for whatever reason, he found his fingers slipping under the hem of Mikasa’s skirt one night, anchoring on her knee. Too low from where he wanted to be, but first he had to have her permission. The shy parting of her legs was enough, Eren was dense but not that dense. Up he went, probing at the unexplored territory of her thighs, feeling the muscles. Mikasa had incredible legs, hell, her whole body was incredible, a souvenir left behind by her soldier days. Finally free to do what he wanted, Eren indulged himself, dragging his hands higher and higher until fingers dug into the flesh of inner thighs.

He was close, so close to her heat that Mikasa couldn’t help but feel anxious. This was the last barrier between them, the last thing that they didn’t do and she really, really wanted to cross that bridge. At the ripe age of twenty-two, Mikasa was more than ready. Whispering her consent, she watched wide-eyed as Eren swallowed, giving her a nod of understanding. After what felt like a lifetime, his fingers finally made contact with the fabric of her underwear. Gently, gently and carefully he touched her over the cotton, taking her advice and rubbing the place with two of his fingers. Mikasa reacted beautifully, she gasped into the kisses, cheeks boiling more than usual, her hands tangling in Eren’s shirt. She liked this, the attention, the way he touched her, reminding her that he’s here, that she’s not alone. Not anymore.

Eren rubbed at her more insistently, maybe trying to force more of those pretty sounds out of her pretty lips but the cloth was in the way. And Mikasa wasn’t playing around anymore.

“Take them off.”, she half-ordered, forcing Eren’s eyes to widen.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

He was still too slow for her tastes, so Mikasa helped him, tugged the underwear down her legs and kicked it away, not minding that it fell from the roof. They would have time to hunt for it later. Eren was still somewhat flabbergasted by how demanding Mikasa got, but she had three damn years to mourn him, to imagine all the things that would never happen and now when they were actually happening she could not wait.

Her hips tilted to a better angle, inviting Eren to push a single finger in, feeling something he never did in his life. It was warm and moist and kinda funny as if he was sticking it into a freshly made pie. However, pies never moaned. The moan, now that was something that tickled something deep in Eren’s brain. Gasps, groans, even little sounds of pleasure – Mikasa made them all but this was the first time she full-on moaned, shameless and loud. God, he wanted more.

Recognizing that the muscled sheath would stretch for him, Eren added a second finger, scissoring his digits. It was a work in the dark, as Mikasa had her skirt on and he couldn’t see what he was doing, so he used her body as a guide, as an indicator of what to do.

She was greedy. Greedy and selfish, yet she couldn’t find a reason not to be. This was what she wanted for so long, so much that it made her cry to sleep at night. Opening her mouth, Mikasa instructed him further.

“There’s a little bundle on top that feels good when you touch it.”

“Oh really?”, there was a slight shift in the fingers on her sex, “Is it here?”

“No, a bit higher.”

“Here?”

“Close…”

“Here?”

“Hng… Y-Yes.”

It was amazing that such a simple touch could make Mikasa gasp like that.

“How should I touch it, what do you like the most?”

In her state, Mikasa didn’t even realize that Eren just asked her how she masturbates. Not that she was ever big on that, but she was a teenager once and did experiment with what the girls gossiped around in the barracks. It was fine, but nothing compared to how she was feeling right now, Eren’s longer fingers filling her in a way her hands never could.

“Small circles, start slow and then move faster and faster. You can be a little rough, but not too much, because it is really sensitive.”

Careful he was, but not too careful, rubbing as she instructed and soon Mikasa was seeing stars that weren’t on the night sky but beneath her eyelids. Brighter and brighter they shined and she wasn’t even able to kiss Eren anymore, panting with head turned. To please her further Eren quick-invented a new hold on her private parts. Two fingers in a palm against her bundle of nerves, he moved in and out of her while rubbing the place and Mikasa lost it.

Here, on the roof of their cabin, clutching to Eren’s back for dear life, Mikasa Ackerman had the first assisted orgasm in her life – and it was by far the most powerful one. She had tears in her eyes once she came back from her high, and Eren was feeling proud, prouder than when he sealed that hole in the wall with his titan.

“Do you..”, she swallowed, head hidden in Eren’s neck, “D’you want me to touch you too?”

“There will be plenty of time for that later.”, he argued, kissing her temple, “We should head to bed.”

Another week passed.

If anything, the cabin paradise got even better. During their evening kissing sessions, Eren didn’t have his fingers all over Mikasa only, but inside her too. Unexperienced but a quick student, he was able to quickly follow given instructions and translate the movements of her body into his fingers, making her feel better and better with every try. Soon, Mikasa wasn’t able to guide him at all, too busy with gasping and moaning while Eren’s mouth kept sucking the last air out of her lungs or marking her neck with a never-ending supply of love bites. And once she was tired and exhausted, once he made her come enough for his tastes, Eren held up the stained hand, licking her sweetness off of and then kissing her, letting Mikasa taste herself on his tongue.

She touched him too, learned how to handle that thing between Eren’s legs to his satisfaction. While he was blushing like crazy at first, repeating that she does not have to do this, Mikasa shut him up with a kiss while her hand dug confidently beneath his pants, fingers curling around the length that quickly became stiff. Jerking Eren off was a bit more difficult because he made a much bigger mess than her, but seeing him melt into her touch and whine and beg when she held the pulsing rod in her hand was so worth it.

It was amazing that all this – all this pleasure they could give each other, was only the first step on a long road that both Mikasa and Eren loved to walk. In no rush, hand-in-hand, taking it one thing at a time because now, there was no limit over their heads. Now, they could enjoy each to their hearts' desire.

Mikasa wasn’t surprised when Eren caught her hand one day and pulled her to him, the bucket she was carrying cluttering on the ground. He hoisted her up but it was day and they were out in the full light with work to be done so Mikasa initially protested.

Her: “Eren wait…”, was weak and not entirely convincing, especially when her legs wrapped around his waist immediately, holding him tight as a vine. Taking her body language as the one Mikasa couldn’t lie in, Eren buried his face in her neck, the scarf being pushed away by his nose as he kissed her there. Out of sheer instinct Eren’s hips began bucking into hers, rutting clothed like an animal against that heated patch of skin between her legs. Even with the barrier the friction was very pleasurable, and soon Mikasa’s head was falling back and knocking against the wooden side of the cabin, the pretty moans leaving her parted lips.

Yet the moment was ruined when she looked back down, her eyes locking with the gaze of their goat. Yams, as they named the animal, was chewing hay, but its somehow incredibly intelligent eyes never left Mikasa’s, watching her with interest. And no, she didn’t want to be watched by a goat while being intimate.

The pull on Eren’s hair was strong, quickly forcing him back to reality.

“What’s wrong Mika?”, he asked, halting his movements, “You don’t like it?”

“I do but…”, she moved her mouth closer, whispering, “Yams is watching.”

“W-What?”

But when he turned his head, Eren could see that the goat was indeed looking, very much throwing his libido from the window. With a sigh, he let Mikasa back down to stand on her feet, even helping her smooth the wrinkled skirt.

“Next time, let’s do it somewhere with fewer eyes.”, she offered, making him grin.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

Quick, so quick that he couldn’t even follow, Mikasa stood on her tippy toes and pressed a fleeting kiss to his mouth.

“Me too.”

While they were having their budding romance, the rest of the world struggled to draw breath.

Armin sent letters, explaining the situation in deeper detail and offering a few ideas on how to defuse the Eren thing. They were mostly informational, intent on catching Eren up on what happened during his absence, with neat rows of numbers and words. But it was the first time that Eren saw the destruction that he caused on paper, the first time he read just how much of an impact rumbling left on this world. It would take decades to recover, most likely more, and still, it would never be the same.

Words, numbers, statistics - the population he killed was reduced to this. Yet Eren couldn’t ignore it because it was his doing, his sins, their blood on his hands. This world, this ruined husk with billions wiped out, that was his doing. In the history books, Eren Yeager would go down as the greatest villain that ever lived, and those who stopped him were eternal heroes.

Mikasa found him sitting over these, head in hands, staring at the small letters. The pain in his face was evident and it was obvious to know why.

A slender hand appeared, swiping the letter away.

“Don’t mind those.”

“Do you want me to close my eyes towards the world? Pretend that I don’t see it?”

“No, but there is no need for you to torture yourself.”, she reached over, gently cradling his cheek, “You are here for me, aren’t you?”

A sad smile spread Eren’s lips.

“Of course.”

But it was not okay, and the following night Eren could not fall asleep. Mikasa was out cold, tired from her busy day, curled against his chest, but rest evaded him. Anytime he closed his eyes, the rumbling played on his eyelids, the death he caused coming back to haunt him. Eighty percent. A ridiculous number, but it was the truth. Eighty percent of all life was ended by him, by his actions. No other war, plague, or famine was this deadly.

Eren couldn’t breathe.

As silently and gently as he could, he slipped out of the bed, rushing outside into the cold air. There he fell to his knees, eyes wide as he gasped for breath. Never since being reincarnated did he think about the rumbling this much. He had a goal before, to get back to Mikasa, to reach the only home he knew in this world, but now that he was here the dangerous thoughts flowed.

Looking over his shoulder, he eyed the cabin, his paradise on earth, eyes watering. How did he ever think that he could have this? A home, a woman that loved him, a woman that was the most beautiful and amazing person in this whole world. How can he smile at her, kiss her, hold her in his arms when his hands are dripping with the blood of millions?

Crying now, sobbing, Eren pressed fists to his eyes, teeth clenching. A genocide later all his dreams came true. He once called Historia the worst girl in the world, what was he then? The worst man, monster, the evil incarnate that somehow got its happy ending. How was this fair? How could the universe stand for such an atrocity?

Warmth, a strong hand that wrapped around him, pulling him to rest against a familiar chest. Putting his arms around Mikasa, Eren cried into her nightgown, fingers bunching the material.

“I-I don’t deserve this.”, he choked, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shhh, It will be okay.”, she rocked him gently, “I’m here for you.”

“I’ve done… such terrible things. I shouldn’t have this, I shouldn’t have you.”

“Maybe not, but tell me Eren.”, she pulled back, making him look at her, “What do I deserve?”

The answer was immediate.

“The whole world.”

“Ah, and from this whole world you just gave me, I will pick a single thing for myself.”, softly, she kissed his forehead, “You.”

Overcome with raw emotion, Eren pushed their foreheads together, taking the moment to just stare deep into her eyes, bathing himself in the undying love he saw.

“The universe is not fair if it lets me have you.”

“It never was,”, Mikasa retorts, “not since the beginning. You may be the devil, but you are not the only sinner who ended up redeemed. Remember Annie? Remember how she murdered Levi’s squad, remember how we feared her, hated her? Or Reiner, whose actions of breaking the wall killed hundreds.”

She hugged him tighter, whispering.

“You are not perfect, but if they got a second chance, why can’t you?”

With no good answer in mind, Eren crashed his lips into hers, giving in. Lucky was a word that described fortunate people, but it wasn’t enough to express what Eren was. He had Mikasa in his life, and that was beyond lucky.

Sometimes the memories still tormented him, sometimes he could hear the cries and see the crushed faces, but when that happened Eren simply tightened his hold on Mikasa’s sleeping body, letting her love and touch wash those night terrors away. She was his talisman, his light in the darkness, and the answer to why Eren should be allowed to live. Because Mikasa wanted him to, that’s why.

He held her and thanked God for her, because she was a divine gift to the world. Eren thanked Ymir too for the second chance, even knowing that the girl is gone, finally free. It’s the gesture that counts. And there were other ways to show affection to the angel that redeemed him.

And five days after his breakdown, he got a chance to do so.

Mikasa whined when he pulled the fingers out of her without letting her reach the peak, grey eyes stormy. She watched in disapproval as he sucked the sweetness from his digits, grumbling about letting the job half-done. All Eren did was kiss her even deeper, whispering against her swollen lips.

“I want to taste you.”

“… You just did.”

“Not like that.”, Eren shook his head, moving until his head was in the apex of Mikasa’s thighs, emerald eyes burning with passion when they met her gaze, “Like this.”

“I-Is that even a thing?”

“Believe me – when I bunked in the Marley hospital, there was one thing that the veterans loved talking about.”, he smirked, “Their adventures with women.”

“So, you know how it works?”

“I have a faint idea.”

Her skirt was in the way so Eren bunched it up until it was resting on Mikasa’s stomach. This was the first time he got a good look at the place between her legs, and he found it endearing. It was pink and glistening a bit and reacting wonderfully when Eren rubbed it. Mikasa was dying of shame, her skin boiling red and she even pulled the scarf up, hiding her face into it.

Ever the explorer, Eren moved forward and did what he wanted to for a long time. Sticking out his tongue he licked at her, getting the strange new taste in his mouth. She was sweet and Eren found himself liking it, eagerly pushing down and pressing for more. Mikasa was unsure what he was even doing at this point, but it felt amazing despite the strange sounds. She could feel his tongue tracing her sex before dipping in.

He made her feel good, great even, combining the efforts of his tongue with a rub on her clit. Eren even reached out when he was tongue deep inside her, taking both of her clothed breasts and squeezed hard, forcing a cry from Mikasa’s throat. Unrelenting, he kept pleasuring her until she came all over his face, breathing hard while Eren gently licked her through the finish. And when she was done he crawled up, facing her reddened face with his smug one.

“Wanna taste yourself?”, he asked, and Mikasa didn’t feel like answering with words.

She kissed him instead.

Mikasa, always the great equalizer, insisted that she tries using her mouth on Eren too. It was strange, holding the thing in her hand, it was even stranger having it in her mouth, but Mikasa was determined and nothing would stop her. In her fervor she let it slide way too deep into her throat, and she gagged and coughed and Eren was apologizing so much that she put a hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Shhh.”, she said, “Let me work.”

Grabbing a hair tie from her pocket, she tied the long hair into a ponytail because it was getting everywhere, and as soon as it was tamed she went back to it. And work she did, indulging herself on her wiling partner, trying everything she could think of. It was fun, it was great fun but then Eren let out a tortured groan and tugged at her ponytail, a warning that she understood but decided to ignore.

He exploded inside her mouth, and she swallowed around him, not stopping until he was done. Only then did she move up his body, meeting his flushed face with a bold smile.

“Wanna taste yourself?”, she threw Eren’s words back at him, and his answer was the same as hers.

A deep kiss.

A third week passed.

Niccolo came by with a basket of homecooked food and Mikasa met him outside, saying that she doesn’t feel well. He left the food with a get-well-soon wish, and suddenly there was a day when they didn’t have to cook. They ate the admittedly delicious meal outside, the meat going great with one of the left-over bottles of wine. A tiny bit of red found its way to Mikasa’s cheek, smeared across her scar, and Eren was very glad that this time around it’s not blood.

“You’ve got some sauce on your face.”

“Huh, where?”

“Here..”, ever helpful, Eren reached out to thumb it away but didn’t pull his hand back, letting the touch linger.

Mikasa leaned into it, smiling and overall being the prettiest thing he ever saw. Not to wonder, the next moment he was kissing her.

It was passionate, way more than usual, partly fueled by the wine but mostly by the hunger for each other. The three weeks was enough time, enough for the reality to become what it always was – real. Eren was here, with her, and maybe he didn’t deserve it but she did. Mikasa always fell asleep hugging him and woke up tangled with Eren, never alone or crying into her pillow. And kissing was nice and all but they were two healthy young adults and sometimes, kissing simply doesn’t cut it.

The cabin door banged when he kicked it open, pulling Mikasa back to him as soon as he could. With her eager assistance he managed to unbutton her shirt, letting it fall on the floor. She did the same to him and now they were both topless, naked skin sliding against naked skin.

Eren had a faint idea of how Mikasa's body looks like. They spent a lot of time together, slept in the same bed, and her nightgown was not made of the thickest material. There were times during the night where her ass rubbed just perfectly against his crotch and Eren had to tilt his hips away, lest he wakes her with his raging hard-on. There was also that one time when he walked in on Mikasa changing and was blessed with a sight of her fully naked for about a second before they both went red in the face and Eren slammed the door closed, loudly apologizing.

But this, this was something different altogether.

It was the first time when they got willingly naked with each other. Even during their earlier activities the removal of clothing was limited to the most necessary ones – panties nudged aside, pants pulled down, skirt bunched up. Now it was all and everything, falling on the floor like leaves in autumn and the two lovers stumbled around the cabin, bumping into furniture.

She was beautiful, of course she was, but there were definitive proofs of her hard life left behind on her body. The muscles were one thing, coiling beneath her skin, her abs far more defined than Eren’s ever was. Younger and dumber Eren envied those muscles Mikasa had because she was that much stronger and faster than he, older and wiser Eren worshipped them. They were a part of the woman who was the reason for his existence.

Yet the muscles were not all. Mikasa had scars, a lot of scars, scattered everywhere and Eren had to take a break from her lips to touch them.

“I’m sorry,”, he heard her whisper, misunderstanding his pause, “I know that they are ugly.”

“Ugly?”, he laughed in disbelief, “Mikasa, you got these while saving my life, over and over again. You got them while saving the damn world. You got them while being the bravest and strongest soldier that ever existed.”

Suddenly he was on his knees, and Eren’s lips ghosted over her stomach where a large cut was.

“They are beautiful.”

And he kissed her scar and didn’t stop there. Every single one, no matter how small, felt the touch of his lips, gentle but insistent. To see them all Eren had to take off her skirt too, and now he had Mikasa only in her underwear, a sight that he thought will never bless his eyes. But he was here, she was here, every cut on her skin an obstacle she had to overcome for them to have this heaven together. Slowly and lovingly Eren placed Mikasa on the bed, crawling over her. Her hair, long and unbound, spilled on the pillow, midnight against the whiteness of the sheets. He kissed the cut on her ankle, the marks left behind by ODM gear on Mikasa’s thighs. Eren’s journey was long and arduous but he loved every moment of it. The end was her face, and after he kissed the scar on her cheek that he gave her in his youthful rage, it was done. For today at least, as Eren would repeat the same journey a hundred times if given the chance.

In clear contrast, his body had no marks. No scars, no blemishes, no birthmarks, it was new and it showed. The only cut he had was the one on his hand, a few days old and a result of his own clumsiness. They were both veterans of the same wars, but Mikasa was the one forced to wear the marks on her body. It only made Eren feel even more affection to her, a deep desire to worship her – all of her. With a question he tugged at her underwear and she relented, letting him remove everything from her body. Now she was bare and he could finally take her in fully, nothing hidden from view anymore.

There is no word to describe what Eren felt at that moment. A mix of love, adoration, awe, and, no need to deny it, lust. In his faint memories they were like this before, during their “what if” escape, but that was a dream, nothing compared to the reality. Mikasa was a woman shaped by war, her body was a weapon, yet it lost nothing of its grace. Every move of her mesmerized him, every shift of her muscle beneath the porcelain, every time she drew a breath and those perky breasts rose from their perch, high on her chest. Aching to touch them, he ran his hands over her ribs first, feeling the bones one by one. Finally, he reached those mounds, filling his hands and squeezing, kneading them. It must have felt good because Mikasa groaned, shifting beneath him on the bed.

It was funny – her body was hard, mostly muscles and bones, cut from her training as a diamond. But her breasts were still soft and squishy and Eren couldn’t get enough of them. Her nipples hard against his tongue when Eren mouthed her chest, licking and kissing and leaving marks with his teeth.

“How are you this perfect?”, he choked out, making her blush even more.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, yes you are.”, to make her see, Eren kissed a trail from her breasts all the way up to her mouth, kissing her nose.

Perfect – from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

Eren’s fingers were at her entrance again, toying and prodding, the touch experienced now. He knew what to do, and Mikasa was soon gasping into his mouth, head swimming. His other hand went on a journey too, touching everything and everywhere, committing this to his memory. The mental image Eren was creating – he wanted to know her, every nook and cranny of Mikasa’s body for one reason only. So he could make her feel the best that he could.

Exploration didn’t go unrewarded. A nipple, which he flicked and Mikasa let out a short gasp. The second one, that he pulled into his mouth, sucking diligently. Hands busy – one down between her legs, fingers moving in and out and palm rubbing her clit, one at her chest, tweaking that funny nub. Mikasa was reacting well, and Eren got his mouth engaged in a different place, kissing and licking all over her sensitive neck before returning to her abandoned breast. The bite on her nipple sent a shock of pain through all the pleasure, but Mikasa loved that spice.

She came, came hard with a strangled cry that he captured in a kiss, came over his hand and Eren loved that, loved when her hips moved on their own and rode out its orgasm on his digits. But when he tried bringing those fingers up to his mouth Mikasa interrupted him, catching his hand and licking it clean herself.

Today, this would not satisfy her. Today she wanted more.

She was so polite, asking if he could strip too, and Eren almost fell from the bed in an effort to follow her wishes. Now it was her turn to explore, to touch everything everywhere, to trace her fingers over the planes of unmarked skin. Palming the hard erection Mikasa wondered how that will ever fit inside her. Yet with her fingers brushing over his member, Eren couldn’t wait anymore.

“Please,”, he begged in a broken whisper, unworthy as he was, “Please let me make love to you.”

And the angel looked at him, the grey eyes drowning with their intensity, the ethereal being regarded the broken man that shared her bed, the nameless existence that defied death for her. And then, a tiny smile curved her pink lips.

“Yes…”, she said, spreading her legs and tilting her hips up.

“Yes….”, now her hand was on his member, pulling and guiding him insider her.

“Yesssssss.”, was the third hiss as Eren penetrated her, Mikasa’s eyes fluttering closed from the intensity.

It was a tight fit and Eren was glad for the touches from earlier, because without her wetness he had no idea if it could even get in. It took time, rocking back and forth as he pushed in more and more, Mikasa’s unyielding muscles giving way. Even overwhelmed like this Eren wanted to touch her. Her breasts were fun to squeeze, her face a great place to kiss. Still, his hips danced, pulling and pushing and Mikasa’s legs wrapped around him, helping with the movements.

In a primal attempt to establish dominance, or maybe to just stop her hands from distracting him Eren gathered her wrists and pinned them to the bed above Mikasa’s head, holding her stretched with one of his hands. At the same time he finally bottomed out, the head of his member kissing a spot deep inside that was never touched before, the connection making them moan in unison. Joined as much as they could, the pair stared into each other’s eyes, seeing the overflowing love they held. A love that demanded to be consummated.

And consummated it was in rhythmic thrusts, the headboard banging the wall. Her hands easily slipped from the restrictive hold Eren tried to have on them and were now grasping at his broad back. When he moved just right, when he rubbed the perfect place inside her, they changed into claws and carved into the skin, creating bloody wings in their wake. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure, Eren not even halting in his movements. He fucked her slow and deep, pouring all of his love into the thrusts. Mikasa was moaning right into his ear, the sounds so sweet that Eren could drown in them.

He wanted more.

Eren had to have her closer, had to be touching as much of Mikasa as he could. Sitting up he pulled her until she was in his lap, the new position pushing the thing inside her even further, now that gravity was assisting. They wrapped each other in a hug and then the movement resumed, but now they were both doing it. Eren thrusted and Mikasa rocked her hips, working in unison to reach their goal. Gasping on her shoulder wasn’t good enough, the hot puffs he blew into her hair, so Eren angled his head to kiss her. Now they were exchanging air too in addition to the deep connection of their bodies. It was always better to let Mikasa move because she excelled at anything physical, and Eren was the one faltering when her hips circled, the massage of her inner muscles out of this world.

He was weak, too weak to resist because this was the best Eren ever felt in his life. With a groan, a mumbled warning he came, hips jerking into hers. The finish was something out of a dream, making his whole body shake while whiteness pushed on his eyelids, and Eren knew that this was everything he could ever ask for.

Here in their cabin, Eren and Mikasa took each other’s virginity, finally becoming what they were always meant to be. Lovers.

Mikasa’s lips fell open, the strange sensation of being filled by Eren’s climax worming its way into her brain. Bodies stilled, they sat in the bed, tangled together as close as two people can physically be. Eren was the first to move, kissing the side of her throat.

“I’m sorry,”, an apology pressed into her skin, “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“It’s okay…”, a breathy gasp, “I enjoyed it.”

Overcome, Eren fell on his back, staring at the ceiling, but looking up he saw that Mikasa didn’t follow. She was still straddling his hips, seated upright, watching him with a new spark in her eyes. Reaching out, she ran a finger down Eren’s face, loving the change of perspective. Now she had all the control, all the power, and nothing was restraining her from taking what she wanted.

Mikasa rolled her hips experimentally, making Eren curse as he grabbed her. No, she didn’t like that. Peeling his fingers off Mikasa planted them back on the bedding, leaning down until their lips brushed.

“Stay.”

A single word, a single kiss and she was upright again, stirring her hips. She was a visage on top of him. A beautiful dance of her muscled stomach, the rolling of hips powered by those defined abdominals. The long hair shifting with her movements, curtaining her from behind. The way she tilted her face up, eyes closed, losing herself to the pleasure. The daylight streamed in through the windows, bouncing off of her pale skin and she was bathed in it, beautiful beyond any imagination. Reddened cheeks, swollen pink lips, midnight hair, white skin marked by red love bites, perky firm tits bouncing with her movements. A painting couldn’t be more perfect than Mikasa right now, no artist could ever hope to capture what she was. And Eren was an observer, blessed by this sight, pinned to the bed not only by her weight but mostly by her word.

Being on top was quickly becoming Mikasa’s favorite position. Not that she tried many of them, but being here and free, able to watch Eren fall apart beneath her that was an experience she enjoyed. Faster, she bounced on his lap with more strength and was soon craving a little change.

Hands finding purchase on Eren’s thighs Mikasa leaned back and continued her riding, the sounds of their lovemaking filling the cabin. Full of pure joy, full of him, high on hormones she laughed out loud, head falling back and the ends of her hair tickling Eren’s legs. So long it grew, now that war wasn’t forcing her to cut it anymore.

To help, to assist the divine being, Eren put his thumb to work on her clit and she appreciated it with a deep hum. And this time around, with a lot of cheek biting and digging nails into his palms, Eren managed to hold until Mikasa came first, clenching around him and crying out loud. Done and spent she collapsed but didn’t let his length fall out and Eren had to help himself, thrusting up until he also spilled for the second time, muffling his sounds by her hair.

“Thank you.”, he whispered, kissing everywhere on her face, from forehead to the eyelids, the cute nose that she scrunched, over her lips down to the chin.

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his jittery gaze with her own.

“Don’t..”, a gentle touch on his cheek, “We did this together.”

“Together…”

There were tears now streaming down his face, tears from the pure happiness that bloomed in his chest. And Mikasa wiped them away but didn’t ask why Eren was crying.

She knew.

To his surprise, Eren enjoyed cooking and gardening a lot. Maybe it was the need to create with his hands, rather than destroy, he had enough death in his life. Still, he was no slouch at hunting yet Mikasa always outperformed him, a fact that he was often teased for.

To test her, if the Ackerman strength had truly left her body, he built a small sparring ring and invited her to join him. Stiff at first, as the fighting grew out of their lives, but on about the third round the blood boiled and the body remembered what it used to be. Mikasa’s unnatural strength was indeed gone, vanishing with the paths, but she was far from weak. Her body was a perfectly put together machine that she mastered, and while she couldn’t pick up Eren with one hand anymore, she could easily do it with two. They punched and danced around and twisted and turned on the ground and Eren came to a realization. Even now, Mikasa crushed him.

Then again, there were certain benefits to sparring, like the feel of her skin on his, the hands that roamed everywhere to push and pull, and….

It was after the fifth time that Mikasa pinned Eren to the ground when his hand circled her hips and pulled instead of pushing her away, the indication rather clear.

“I’ll assume that this was your plan from the start?”, Mikasa asked, not minding the change of physical activity in the slightest.

“You overestimate me,”, he muttered, planting open-mouthed kisses over the sweaty skin of Mikasa’s neck, “I’m thinking on my feet here.”

Well, she would not question his genius.

A chicken came close, eyeing the sweaty mass of entangled bodies writhing around on the ground, curious about what was happening. Noticing a shirt, thrown away in a heat of passion, it pecked at it to try the taste. However, then the black-haired human made a loud noise and it scared the animal, making the chicken run away with flapping wings. The fabric was not worth it.

Several months passed.

Armin sent more letters. The situation wasn’t getting better, but it wasn’t getting worse either. Yeagerists and the rest of the world were barking at each other like rabid dogs, but neither was willing to bite first. Historia mediated peace talks in the meantime, opening Paradis up.

Most importantly, they kept his secret. To the world, Eren Yeager was dead.

In other news, Jean and Pieck were dating, Armin wrote. Reiner was depressed since Eren came back, but he was getting better thanks to Gabi and Falco being awesome. Levi asked how Mikasa was, and Armin smiled and said that she’s okay. The old captain probably had a hunch of bullshittery, considering the look he gave the blond but didn’t pry.

To them, it was an echo that barely reached their private paradise.

It was bliss, no other word to describe it. The days in the cabin alternated – sometimes they woke up with a crack of dawn and were doing chores as the sun rose, sometimes they stayed in bed the whole day, doing nothing but re-exploring each other’s bodies. With the final barrier between them broken, they were experimenting with their intimacy, because no idea was dumb enough not to try. Who would mind? It was just them in the cabin, and they had a backlog worth years of suppressed feelings.

In those months Mikasa’s scarf was used a lot, becoming a blindfold or a way to gently tie someone’s hands. The location was also great to change, and the cabin wasn’t big enough for their tastes, the surrounding river, forest and meadows offering so many new places to try.

When having “fun” outside Yams was a hard limit because he kept watching with an interested expression and Mikasa couldn’t take it. For the sake of her mental health, they began locking the poor goat in the barn as a precaution. And everything was perfect again.

Until one day, when two events found a way to disrupt it.

First – Mikasa missed her period. A thing that was honestly to be expected, and a little miracle that it didn’t happen sooner. Sure, she was drinking some tea that was supposed to help but that was for girls who made a mistake, not for young women that were having sex multiple times per day.

Eren, who initially had a speech about them having to be careful because Mikasa getting pregnant out of nowhere while she is supposed to be living alone would be hard to explain, was nothing but a hypocrite. He was not careful in the slightest, unable to stop himself and pull out more times than he could. Mikasa locking her ankles around his hips at times or refusing to go down from her position on top didn’t help.

Not realizing the implication the period was ignored, Mikasa reasoned that it would come later, but the second event was of a much bigger immediate impact.

Mikasa was feeding Yams in the yard while Eren plucked a goose he hunted earlier, their normal day of an idyllic life. That was all changed when an unfamiliar sound could be heard in the distance, and straightening, Mikasa shielded her eyes from the sun to see what it was. A car. A big black car was coming towards her house, bearing small flags on the sides. There were no roads to her house, but the machine did not care, chugging it over the grass.

“Eren, hide!”, was her warning hiss, and he was quick to obey.

Dropping the goose he all but sprinted inside the cabin, managing to close the door just as the car climbed the hill, getting a clear view for the first time. It vroomed closer and closer until it was here, stopping with a grunt. Mikasa watched it all with the hay basket at her hip and Yams abused her confusion, eating right out of it.

The metal opened to reveal a black-suited man who jumped out, opening the rear door with a bow. Kiyomi climbed out, her face betraying nothing as she looked left and right, taking the whole cabin in. The half-plucked goose caught her attention but she didn’t comment on it, walking over to the table instead.

Understanding the gesture, Mikasa dumped the basket much to Yams’ glee, joining the older woman. Kiyomi had her hands folded on the wood, eyes calculating as always, watching her approach. And when Mikasa sat down, her words were fast and emotionless. Not even a “Hello”, Kiyomi rolled out her plan immediately.

“I am withdrawing my support from Paradis.”

“Excuse me?”

“I will make the announcement in a week. After that, there will no more help from Hizuru, and you will be left on your own. Again.”

Mikasa tapped the table, trying to wrap her head around it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand what will happen. Without us, queen Reiss will be left defenseless and the Yeagerists will devour her. Once she’s gone, who is there to stop their expansion plans?”, Kiyomi’s words were daggers, “There will be another war, and this time it won’t stop unless one side is completely wiped out.”

“If you know that much, why would you ever withdraw your support?”

“You know why.”

So this was about her. Again. This was about Kiyomi’s never-ending plan on planting Mikasa in Hizuru as a shogun’s wife. This was about her bloodline, the thing that was worth more than anything to the old woman.

“You’re threatening me.”, Mikasa understood, “If I won’t come, you will doom this island. How can you do that?”

“Because I tried everything else!”, Kiyomi’s voice finally got heated and she clenched her fists, “I gave you time, I gave you four years to mourn him! I was nothing but a supportive ally while Paradis struggled to catch up to the rest of the world. I devoted so many resources to you that I’ve been called a madwoman back in my homeland. But that ends here.”

She stood up, delivering the closing words with the finality of falling rocks.

“Mikasa, you have one week to decide. Either come to Hizuru and take your rightful place or stay here and watch the island around you burn. If the shogun’s bloodline is doomed to end with you… Then so be it.”

Ever since the end of the war Mikasa did not have those crazy headaches, but now her temples were pounding again as the car disappeared over the horizon. Soon, warm hands circled her and pulled her into a hug, and she rested her head on Eren’s shoulder.

“What do we do?”, she whispered weakly, but he had no answers.

Three days later, it was the anniversary of Eren’s “death”, a year since he came back.

Armin and everyone would be coming tomorrow, but tonight it was just them, lying together on the grass next to the small headstone. Mikasa didn’t come here anymore, for obvious reasons, but nostalgia made her bring flowers and now those were resting on the grave, much to Eren’s amusement.

“Another year.”

“Indeed, but this one was much better.”

“I take it that you prefer the cabin over paths?”

He smirked, kissing her temple.

“Infinitely.”

“Two years there, huh. How did it feel?”

“Not very long, the opposite. They were collapsing fast and I had to save all my memories before they died. There were some I wanted to leave behind so I would forget them,”, a grimace, “Like the rumbling, but I knew that I had to take them all. Otherwise I would never be complete.”

Eren always had pain in his voice when talking about the process of reforging himself, and Mikasa could imagine that it was far from a pleasant experience. And now that she thought about it…

“Wait, since you were dead, you didn’t have your body, right?”

“Obviously…”

“So you didn’t age for two years.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Where are you going with this?”

“You are two years younger than me now!”, she giggled, “A child.”

“Oh come on.”

“I let you drink wine!”, she gasped, “So irresponsible of me. And…”

Whatever Mikasa’s next age-gap joke was would be lost to the history, because Eren silenced her the only way he knew. With a kiss.

In a silent agreement, they didn’t talk about Kyomi’s offer, but Mikasa found herself thinking about it at the dead of night when Eren’s soft snores were the only sound in the cabin. However, now she had a more immediate issue, because his hands got adventurous, slipping underneath her clothes.

“You are not serious,”, she accused him, “Here? Of all places?”

“Why not?”, he was kissing her neck again, slowly but surely hiking the fabric of her dress up, “It’s just a decomposing head there. I should know, It was mine.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love me.”

“And I keep wondering why.”

With a grunt he rolled them over, hovering over Mikasa’s flushed cheeks.

“Then let me remind you.”

Maybe it was the need to forget about Kiyomi and her threats but Mikasa ended up going along with his plans. Here they were, naked bodies entangled on the grass with Eren thrusting into her, the leg she had wrapped around his hips pulling in sync. But for once it was not hard enough to dispel the lingering sadness of the place and Mikasa stopped him, making Eren pull out.

Then she was up, scrambling on her knees and turning around, leaning on the wood of the old tree that watched them grow up, that hosted the place of his last rest for three years. Eren understood her wishes, guiding himself back into her once she was done moving, the re-union making them both moan. And then it was hard and fast and bruising. The fingers clutching her hips were marking the porcelain skin with red, the hips slapping into her ass making obscene sounds. Wet, tight, and everything to dream about, Mikasa’s inviting depths crumbled Eren’s mental strength. She was losing it too, head craning and the long hair falling all over her face. Desperate to see her, Eren reached out to brush it aside, and now the midnight cascade went over one of her shoulders. One of her hands moved too, resting on her own ass as support when her body turned sideways, the delicious sounds leaving her at an alarming rate.

Was it strange that she enjoyed having sex here? Maybe. But this was a place of her greatest breakdowns, here she cried again and again at Eren’s grave, unable and unwilling to accept that he was truly gone. Here she broke into pieces and had to pull herself back together again. It didn’t feel like desecrating the place, more like blessing it, overwriting the sad memories with new happy ones.

With a rub at her weak place Mikasa broke, moaning out loud into the night. And when a few of her tears fell on the grass, she realized that this was far from the first time she cried here. But this was the first one when those tears were of pleasure and happiness.

Eren followed her climax with his own and then they collapsed into a sweaty embrace, careful not to fall on the headstone. My most beloved, my dear it read, but Mikasa didn’t feel dread when looking at it anymore. Her beloved was right here in her arms, and she had to make sure that it stayed that way forever. The world was intent on keeping them apart, even now after his death, but she would not let them.

With the sex haze covering their senses, the telltale smell in the air, Mikasa looked at the stars while Eren buried his nose in her hair. Four years after she lost the love of her life, a year after getting him back, and approximately five minutes after being pounded by him from behind to a mind-shattering orgasm, Mikasa Ackerman came to a decision.

“Eren,”, she got his attention and he hummed into her hair.

“Hm?”

Mikasa took a deep breath.

“Let’s go to Hizuru.”

#eremika #fanfic #snk

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undertalethingems · 4 years

Text

Bark at the Moon Chapter 11: Mob Mentality

Or read on my Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: Everything goes absolutely right: everything goes wrong.

Flowey cackled as he raced towards Snowdin as fast as his roots would take him. It was time, it was finally time! He popped up in the town square, in view of the most people. "Hey! Everyone! You have to be ready, the beast is coming! It's--it's in Waterfall right now, I saw Undyne fighting it--but! Oh god, it was so powerful! I think it's coming here next, we have to be ready to fight it together!"

A worried murmur rose from the gathering crowd, and it parted for members of the Royal Guard--the Dogi.

"How long do we have?" Dogaressa questioned, fixing him with a firm gaze.

"I--I don't know, however long Undyne can hold it off. From what I saw... it might only about fifteen minutes before it gets here--but maybe even less!"

"That's still plenty of time. Not to worry, everyone," Dogamy called out, "we'll arrange our forces accordingly. Please take your children inside until it is safe."

"Anyone else who is ready and willing to fight, prepare yourself. We will not let this individual escape justice," Dogaressa added firmly. "We'll regroup at the clearing past Papyrus and Sans' house in ten minutes."

The crowd broke into an urgent bustle as everyone hurried to their families or the meeting place. Flowey slipped away to watch it from a distance, his work done. Excellent. The stage was set, and all he had to do now was put the other piece in place. A bit of scouring, and--oh good, Sans was still napping under his old sentry station. It was kind of funny how he still frequented places he had no reason to anymore. He tapped his snout to wake him up, and ignored the growl he got as Sans set eyes on him.

"Hey, no need for that. I wanna help you out!"

Sans eyed him suspiciously.

"Look, I even brought you a peace offering--here, your favorite!" Flowey said, offering up one of the burgers he still had. It was snatched from his vine almost instantly, and Flowey shook his head. He knew Sans hadn't been able to find much food lately, but he hadn't expected him to be so quick to accept his gift. Well, all the better. It was just a matter of stalling for time now.

"So hey, I know you've been looking for your brother--I've been looking too. And I'm pretty good at finding stuff, so it was weird when it seemed like he wasn't anywhere."

Sans still watched him warily, but sighed.

"Yeah, I know. So color me surprised when I heard where he's been this whole time!"

Sans perked up, tilting his head at him.

"He's been with Undyne! It turns out she knows of some secret caverns and stuff too, and he's been hanging out there. But I also heard... that he's thinking of coming back soon--maybe even today!"

Sans narrowed his eyes and uttered a short, questioning grunt.

"Yeah! I don't know when, but you might wanna head back soon so you can meet him when he arrives. You'd like that, right?"

Sans rumbled, and looked toward town. Flowey wasn't sure if he still--oh, there was the flicker, and Sans was gone. Alright, that would have to do--he grinned. He burrowed back toward town as quickly as his roots could take him, and popped up in the trees to the side of the road to wait. A decent crowd had already lined up, headed by the Guard. Shouts urged stragglers to join the ranks, and he wondered if Sans could hear them from his house.

And then--a far louder cry as Papyrus appeared, plowing through the snow toward the gathered townsfolk. He looked happy to see them at first, expecting them to be a welcoming party. But as he got closer and realized their expressions were all dour, he slowed--and the first attack smacked into him, a heavy icicle bullet. He staggered with a yelp, and the crowd cheered. And then the rest attacked too.

Papyrus tried to shield himself, but there were too many projectiles coming from too many angles. He went down with a shriek, and Flowey cackled. Unless something happened, it'd be only moments until Papyrus was--

A line of bones stabbed up through the crowd's feet, knocking them back. Flowey knew that attack. That was his cue.

"Oh god, there's TWO of them!" he screamed above the confusion, using someone else's voice to avoid suspicion.

A beam of light cut through the crowd, leaving screams and scorch marks in its wake, and then another seared from another angle, sowing even more confusion. Several people fled--this was far more than they'd signed up for, and Flowey cackled gleefully--fools and cowards and idiots, all of them! He delighted in watching them squirm and mill and scramble while they tried to defend their worthless lives as something tore through their ranks. Then, finally something visible--a white blur tackled one of the bears and snapped its heavy jaws around the unfortunate monster's arm, and he screamed as he fell back.

But then something blue flashed within the white blur's ribcage, and it was yanked off and slammed into the clearing with a dull thud. It went still.

Flowey frowned, and looked up. Papyrus was sitting, one hand extended and trembling, tears trailing from his sockets. Realizing everyone was looking at him, he started--then lunged forward, grasping his brother's spine in his jaws and turning tail to flee into the trees. Dogamy called orders for anyone able to fight to go after them, and a small party took off. Flowey watched them go knowing they'd never catch them, but stayed put himself. Undyne had finally arrived. She was jogging up looking thoroughly concerned, and he wanted to see what her reaction would be. Dogaressa approached her, and explained what had transpired.

Her fury was spectacular.

The anguished howl that tore from her throat echoed from the cavern walls, and a tree splintered on contact with a spear thrown in her outburst. Another cracked when she punched it, and it was several minutes before anyone felt they could approach her. She whirled on them, her voice clear even from where Flowey hid.

"This is EXACTLY what I was afraid of--BUT!" she bellowed, "who told you these things?! Who was it? I'm going to make them SUFFER!"

"I-it w-was a flower," one of the townsfolk offered timidly. "A little yellow flower that could talk."

There was a moment's silence.

"HE. IS. DEAD!" Undyne roared. "I want everyone looking for him. He is NOT to be trusted, the lying, manipulating little--I WANT HIM DEAD!"

"B-but Undyne," Dogaressa piped up, "we have to follow due process. What has this flower even done?"

Undyne could barely bring herself to speak. "Those monsters... were Sans and Papyrus. I know it was Papyrus, and the other--I don't know, I don't know! It had to be Sans, somehow--but! That's NOT THE POINT! The POINT is, that flower told us Sans was back, looking for Papyrus, and then he apparently told you Papyrus was the beast and to attack him. For some reason... he wanted this mess to happen!"

There were murmurs through what remained of the crowd.

"I don't have time to deal with you all, so go home, patch yourselves up, and think about what you've done. Guard, we'll talk later. Dismissed."

Flowey giggled. What a fun bit of chaos that had been. He was tempted to just reset now, but he kind of wanted to see this all play out to the very end. Would the brothers ever come back? Who knew. What would happen if they did? What would happen if they didn't? It was all so interesting. He'd call today a success.

#undertalethingem writes #bark at the moon fic #gaster blaster au #papyrus (undertale)#sans (undertale)#Undyne (undertale)#flowey (undertale)#a double update because these chapters are short! surprise~

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madame-fouquet · 3 years

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2020 Anime Retrospective

With the end of the year here, and all the anime that came with it now behind us, I feel like looking back and reminiscing on it. So, following the style of ANN's own yearly retrospectives, may I present my 2020 anime in review! Enjoy.

Best of the year: Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken

This is actually not the first time Yuasa and his crew of, let's be honest, visionaries have rolled something special out right at the beginning of the year in some weird power move against everything else that has to follow it. They did it back in 2018 with Devilman Crybaby, and then they hit us this year with Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken. You ever have one of those shows where you're just constantly in awe of everything it does? Where you never found yourself chasing merch or hunting after content based off it online, but you consistently find yourself thinking about it? Yeah, that's what Eizouken did to my brain after I watched it. It was such an earnest love letter to anime and anime production, to animation in general, that I couldn't help but get sucked into its imagination and enthusiasm. The way it was able to so perfectly illustrate that pure, boundless, childlike joy that one can derive from the simple act of creating, I'd be lying if I didn't say that it had a powerful effect on my own desire to continue creating. (Corny as that sounds, it's true.) The sheer amount of love it contains, and the equal amount it puts out into the world make it so I know I am going to be thinking about it again and again for a long long time.

Runner-up: Akudama Drive

I don't know if it's really quite a matter of my two favorites being opposites, but there are definitely some pretty sharp stylistic and tonal differences between my two top shows this year. Akudama Drive's cocaine-fueled bender of an intro episode made it very clear what it's intentions were and what it wanted us to be prepared for. That doesn't mean I had ANY idea of where it was headed narratively, but I did know I was in for one hell of a ride. And it delivered is spades on that promise. The twists and turns, no matter how insane, illogical, or steeped in tropes they were, were all such a colorful energetic spectacle that it would be hard to hold anything against the series. Every character was such a force that I didn't really consider any of them a weak point. Yeah, some of them were more or less cardboard cut-outs of antagonistic elements, but when the cardboard cutout looks REALLY FREAKING COOL, it's hard to get too torn up over the details. It's a show that oozes style and knew EXACTLY what it wanted to do and be, and I have to respect that.

Runner-up-up: Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun

The next few entries aren't really in any sort of order, I actually found it near impossible to sort anything below my top two. Hanako-kun however does hold a bit of a special place for me though because, at least from a stylistic standpoint, it hits so many of my buttons. Just visually this show is the exact kind of thing my younger self would have latched onto immediately, even before knowing anything about the actual content. I suppose not much has really changed though. I'm absolutely in love with the animation style of Hanako-kun, and I got really lucky that there is an interesting story and delightful cast of characters underneath that visual splendor. Along with the sharp lines, intense colors, and soft characters, I'm also a sucker for contemporary supernatural mysteries. That's a fancy way of saying one of my favorite shows as a kid was The X-files, but both make the point pretty well. The world of Hanako-kun has a lot to offer, and I can only hope it gets a second season so we can continue to delve into it's beautiful and terrifying mysteries.

Runner-up-up: Kaguya-sama: Love is War Season 2

I know a lot of people will be talking about this one when it comes to “Best of” lists. I know a lot of people were talking about the first season when it reminded us just how funny anime can be back in 2018. Absurd high school comedies (Is that a genre?) could definitely be considered my favorite. Hell, of my top five favorite anime of all time, THREE of them fall under that category. So believe me when I say Kaguya-sama absolutely deserves the deluge of praise it receives. For what describing something as “laugh out loud” is worth, this show had me constantly needing to pause it just so I could finish laughing at whatever ludicrously funny misfortune had just befallen it's cast of lovable morons. The thing is though, Kaguya-sama understands that you can't just earn love and goodwill on laughs alone, there needs to be a beating heart at the center of all the shenanigans. And when this season had me actually cheering on and feeling sorry for Ishigami of all people, I knew that beating heart was present and accounted for. Look, the cast are all self-centered idiots, but I'll be damned if they aren't also my dear children who I delight in watching slowly grow and become slightly less self-centered idiots.

Runner-up-up: Dorohedoro

When the Dorohedoro anime was first announced, a lot of my experience was watching a group of people online scream about how they were so pumped that it was finally getting an anime. I had never heard of it before, but the excitement was very real and tangible. And I gotta say, sometimes you need to believe the hype. I've never been one to shirk a series just because it was CG animation, (Watch ID-0 dammit!) but Dorohedoro makes a strong case for why people shouldn't sleep on something based solely on it's animation. The dirty, grease-encrusted world of Hole is brought to life with plenty of flair and style that, I feel, the CG didn't hold back at all. What I had seen said was that for a long time Dorohedoro was kinda considered “unanimateable” but I think MAPPA did the iconic manga a fair amount of justice. Even if pulpy ultra-violence isn't normally your thing, I still highly recommend giving Dorohedoro a look, it might just end up being a hole worth going down.

Honorable Mention: Show By Rock!! Mashumairesh!!

I know what you're thinking, but hear me out. The first Show By Rock!! was definitely an indulgence for me. While not something I considered a high level series by any stretch: messy plotting, shallow characters, a weird isekai angle, a lackluster finale, and an even MORE lackluster second season, it still got is hooks into me with its sheer energy and fluffy charm. So despite the, as mentioned, rough second season, I was more than happy to check out the new series in the franchise. And boy was I glad I did. Mashumairesh!! takes all the heart and sweetness that worked for the first series and dials it up. It then took a hard look at a lot of what DIDN'T work in the first series, and manages to fix most of the issues. Removing the isekai angle and the whole existential threat thing, and just letting the series be a “slice-of-life but in an electric animal filled music world” did wonders for the direction and consistency. Add to that more properly fleshed out characters, and you get a series that is far stronger than it's progenitor. The next series, Show By Rock!! Stars!!, will be adding back the cast from the first series, and that could very well be a sign that it will be falling back into its old habits, but the presence of the Mahumairesh!! girls gives me hope that it might have a chance of staying the new, far better course.

Worst of the Year: Digimon Adventure:

This one really hurts to say. What hurt more was how quickly I knew what show I'd be electing for this position. One thing to clarify is that I would not nominate a series that I'd only watched one or two episodes of, that's just not fair. So the award was bound to go to something I had at least dedicated a decent amount of my time too. And in any other year this may have gone to something that was more my “least favorite” or had an ending that disappointed me. But unfortunately I have to be honest and sit here and tell you that the newest entry in the Digimon franchise was easily the worst thing I watched this year. I have been a long time Digimon fan. Ever since I was but a wee lass watching the original Digimon Adventure premiere on Fox Kids at a family reunion, I have always considered the franchise a sort of cornerstone of my anime fandom. So please understand the excitement I had felt when I found out they were doing a full on remake of that flagship series. Imagine how absolutely pumped I was when the bombastic movie-like premiere of Digimon Adventure: wowed us with everything it delivered, and all the promises of what was to come. And then imagine my disappointment, my despair as the show devolved until it showed us what it really was during the finale of the Fake Tokyo arc. I would call it a production meltdown, but considering the precedent that got set back in episode 10 during the already shaky Ultimate Evolution arc, has been so clearly informing everything up to the current episodes in the early 30s, I have to be honest with myself and admit: this is what we were going to get all along from day one. All of the heart that had made the original series so endearing, despite its own flaws, just isn't present here. What you get here is just a non-stop (and I mean non-stop) string of barely related fights with poorly-defined stakes, or sometimes no real stakes at all. It's just one ugly set piece fight after another as the children chase after vaguely implied evils. I think the most damning thing is how much more I could say about just how much this series has let me down. Like I said, this one hurts.

Best Theme-Song of the Year: Night Running (BNA)

My opinion of BNA as a series is complex. But my opinion of its ED, Night Running, is simple: Its a god-damned bop! I could spend this whole section talking about the artistry of the ED animation itself, its fun and creative use of color, the slight variations for certain episodes, the focus on character, or the fact that it was done by an American animation team. I could even talk about the song's importance to the series as a whole and its place in the narrative. I won't though. The fact of the matter is that even without all that, I STILL probably would've picked Night Running as my best of the year because as a song it is just that much my jam. This is the kind of shit I could listen to on repeat for hours, days, weeks, and still keep coming back to it. Don't get me wrong, Ready To is a damn powerful and catchy tune that goes hard, but at the end of the day, I'm a sucker for a soulful pop tune like Night Running. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWTFfEnMCCc

Best Character: Sayaka Kanamori

This was actually probably the hardest category for me to decide on. It was stuck hard between Eizoken's Kanamori and Akudama Drive's Doctor. I know those are a powerfully different pair in basically every way, but it was specifically for their startling differences that both characters stuck out to me so much. In the end though, it was the poignant rounding out of, and emotional hooks of Kanamori's character that let her triumph over her delightfully two-dimensional opposition. Kanamori already had me from episode one. In a show that I wasn't really worried about the usual diversions of anime ingestion like picking a favorite character, Kanamori sealed herself as “Best-girl” from the word go. I have mad respect for a girl who knows what she wants, and has a clear idea of how she's going to go about getting it (See also: Doctor.) But Kanamori was more than a driving desire for success and money. Underneath her unstoppable ambition there was a very real, very relatable driving impetus. She stood apart, and yet still believably vulnerable and invested in the people she associated with. It was always a blast watching her suffer as the only thing keeping the more creative minds on track, and yet she was never reduced to a simple task master; her love and respect for her friends was always clearly visible. I could go on and on about how Kanamori is a nearly perfect character, but I hope I've said enough already without having to resort to senseless rambling.

Best Moment: Howan confesses her feeling to Himeko (Show By Rock!! Mashumairesh!!)

By the time episode six rolled around, Mashumairesh!! had already shown marked improvements over its progenitor in basically every area. Not only was the story in a better place by focusing on what had worked in the original series, (Ya know the BAND part of this show about bands) but the cast was also doing a good job of standing out from their seniors and feeling more equally rounded out. Where the original series had just kinda been the Cyan show with guest stars, I felt like I had an actual grip on all four of the main girls now. There were however the usual issues that come with a cute-girls-doing-cute-things series, chief among them the “ambiguously gay member of the group who constantly reacts with clear romantic interest towards the main protagonist but the writing will never actually do anything with those feelings” trope. Retoree had spent the better part of the first two seasons fawning over Cyan only for nothing to come of it and, despite the increased focus on all of the girls this time around, it looked like we were going to get the same old song and dance with Himeko's feelings towards Howan. But then the climax of episode six hit and, midst a really intense subplot about Himeko's abandonment complex, Howan comes out with a straight up love confession. And I kept waiting for the usual dead-ends these moments always seem to have. The “I love you! I love the girls too! I love the band!” Or a “I love being with you.” and the dreaded, “I love having you as my most precious friend.” But none of that happened. It was a full on heart-felt, “I love you, Himeko. I want to stay with you forever!” I'm just not used to getting that sort of straightforwardness from my silly little band shows, so I was shocked, but also completely overjoyed. And frankly the series just kept getting better from there. The evolution of their relationship built off that moment, no dreaded resetting of the status quo. I daresay it was on the power of this moment alone that I wanted to include this series in my top five at all. If there was anything I would want other anime to take from Mashumairesh!! it's that it's okay to introduce radical changes to character relationships partway through a season, and it's okay to let characters unequivocally state their feelings for each other. People will respond positively to that earnestness, I promise.

#anime #keep your hands off eizouken!#sayaka kanamori #akudama drive #toilet-bound hanako-kun #kaguya sama wo kataritai #kaguya-sama love is war #dorohedoro #show by rock #show by rock mashumairesh!!#howan #mashima himeko #digimon #digimon adventure:#BNA #Brand New Animal #Night Running

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happymetalgirl · 3 years

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Five* Outside albums of 2020

I do this little list every year of my favorite albums that fall mostly “outside” the metal sphere and weren’t so metal-adjacent that I reviewed them formally during the year. The past three times I have written this little piece, I have kept it to five, but *this year, I’ve just had a hard time narrowing it down, so I figured, why do that? Well, I could go through a few dozen albums or so that I fucked with this year outside the metal sphere, but I’m compromising with the addition of a new, quick (we’ll see) honorable mention section.

So, in the interest of keeping my verbose tendencies in check, I’ll cut this introduction off and get into the honorable mentions.

Honorable Mentions:

Anna von Hausswolff - All Thoughts Fly

I did review Anna von Hausswolff’s previous record, Dead Magic, back in 2018 as part of my bunch of metal albums reviews that year, because it was kind of tangentially metallic. It wasn’t a lot at a technical level, only a few metallic elements here no there, but it had a lot of harrowing qualities that I thought metal listeners might appreciate. For the Swedish singer and pipe-organist, that album really was the closest she ever came to metal’s territory, and I don’t think any flirting with the genre was intentional on her part. Most of what she does is haunting, neoclassical, organ-based music that’s usually not as wild as what Dead Magic was, and this year’s album is a real scale back to her roots and an appreciation for the pipe organ. While I do miss her bewitching vocals on this entirely instrumental album, All Thoughts Fly stands well on its own merits as both a solid tribute to von Hausswolff’s organ playing and as a beautiful, incredibly immersive ambient album that does so much with its relatively small palette. I’ve talked a few times on here about really shitty ambient music that’s approached with a clearly lazy attitude because of its supposed background role. Rather than being made to be ignored, All Thoughts Fly pulls you in and around in a swirl of lush sounds that aren’t too common in ambient music, and with a relatively minimal approach, relying on the naturally serene tambre of the instrument to fill the space with a lightening, floating ambience and well-structured movements to do the gentle moving. It’s a beautiful example of what an ambient album can achieve if it’s actually made with a lot of love and care.

Shabaka & The Ancestors - We Are Sent Here by History

Okay, that first one went pretty long. I’ll try to keep the rest of these here relatively short. Sons of Kemet band leader, Shabaka Hutchings, takes his other group on slightly less chaotic Afro-jazz odessey that what Sons of Kemet have been delivering us. While more contained on the surface within the genre’s usual light grey areas, Shabaka & The Ancestors move with freedom and flexibility on this album in a way that highlights the natural appeals of the Afro-jazz sound pallet through constantly engaging arrangements from masters of the craft.

Lady Gaga - Chromatica

I know we’re all well aware of Lady Gaga, but the pop icon has been relatively quietly been making the best music of her career since taking the edge rather than the center of the spotlight, from 2013’s diverse Artpop to 2016’s more bare-bones Joanne. And now, after her mellower, more traditional Americana-influenced album in 2016, Gaga cranks the volume and the fun way back up. Chromatica is a blast of an album whose wide span of dance pop albums influences new and old keeps it varied and lively all the way through. This album feels very much like it’s Gaga unleashed, just doing her thing and having a good time with a bunch of dance music styles that she’s always loved, and it’s impossible not to feel that enthusiasm secondhand, and groove the hell out along with it.

Black Thought - Streams of Thought, Vol. 3: Cane & Abel

Black Thought has had nothing to prove since the relative inactivity of The Roots this past decade, but he has sure been rapping as if he does have something to prove on his solo work. The Philadelphia rapper put out a couple of EPs back in 2018 that showcased his impressive modern lyricism and flow, and the third, LP-sized installment in the series is just another offering of further proof of the man’s lyrical chops. There’s a little bit of an understated delivery in the music overall, but Black Thought really lets his words speak for themselves more than his moderate bravado. It’s not super flashy because it doesn’t need to be.

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher

Indie folk has always loved to soak in the puddles of personal sadness, but Californian singer Phoebe Bridgers takes the style to whole new depths of personally gripping, bordering on the outright emo, and that is by all means a compliment for rather than a shot at. The album’s candid journaling of Bridgers’ personal struggles is so tangible and so genuine that it would probably rival Connor Oberst’s best work with Bright Eyes. It is just a beautiful, yet tear-inducing album.

Alright, now on to the five “main” “non-metal” albums of the “list proper”.

Hexvessel - Kindred

Hexvessel are a Finnish six-piece whose sixth album of psychedelic folk here manages to touch on the same haunting, gothic tones that groups like Opeth and Gazpacho do at their most forest-y. Indeed, Kindred is an enchanting album, with sprawling styles and a full-bodied sonic pallet to keep it interesting the whole way through. And it’s as strong in its more bombastic song like that which opens the album as it is in its more stripped back acoustic tracks like that which closes it. Songs like “Magical and Damned” straight-up evoke Mount Eerie, while songs like “Kindred Moon” hearken to The Beatles at their most minimal and folky, and there’s plenty of spooky, mystical energy to go around. Definitely one of the best finds of the year for me.

The Strokes - The New Abnormal

Coming at the end of a seven-year gap between it and their previous album, 2013’s somewhat fan-polarizing Comedown Machine (which I liked a lot), The Strokes’ aptly named return is a return to the spotlight, but hardly to normalcy or the musical roots in garage rock that so many of the band’s fans have been sweating for. Twisting the electronic alternative rock of their Angles era into some odd, but mesmerizing forms, The New Abnormal is a subtly wild ride of an album through lots of melancholic overtones and undertones whose impact is made all the more potent by the occasional teasing of sorts with the few more traditionally rockin’ moments on here. It doesn’t take long to pull back the seemingly preppy synth rock or 80’s rock curtains to find the melancholy beneath “Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus” and “Bad Decisions”, respectively. But the band aren’t even that subtle with the immediate depression of just the straight-up guitar melodies on songs like “Selfless”, “Not the Same Anymore”, and the chill-inducing soar of “Ode to the Mets”. The album’s prize piece, though, has to be the utterly gorgeous and empathetic minimalist synth song, “At the Door”, whose simple melodies and bare delivery make for one of the most gently heart-piercing songs I know and of my favorite songs of the year and probably my favorite Strokes song ever, as hard as it is to listen to. Welcome back Julien and company.

Rina Sawayama - Sawayama

Quite possibly the best outright pop album I have heard in a long while, Sawayama sounds simultaneously fresh and vintage in the landscape it was born into, making use of a lot of early 2000’s pop rock instrumentation, even some heavy metal guitars here and there, but most importantly, a real sense of passion that seems to be flat-out absent from so much of the pop that I (usually inadvertently) hear. I don’t want to overstate the prominence of the metal elements, but the album does have a bubbling, infectious energy both vocally and instrumentally from front to back that the occasional bursts of heavy guitars between Sawayama’s charismatic, dance-inducing performances do provide a good snapshot of. Furthermore, there’s a rich diversity of song types across the album that dive into the pop sphere beyond the standard trend-hopping that dominates streaming playlists and make for a dynamic and fun, rather than disjointed, pop album. And that’s all only possible with the consistently tight compositions o the album. Indeed, this is one of the best pop albums I have ever heard, certainly in recent years.

clipping. - Visions of Bodies Being Burned

clipping. are the second artist to be on here two years in a row after last year’s spectacularly spooky There Existed an Addiction to Blood, and Denzel Curry’s one-two punch of TA13OO and Zuu in 2018 and 2019 respectively. There Existed an Addiction to Blood was a thrilling and fresh take on many tropes of horrorcore with the band’s already forward-thinking and creative noise-driven instrumental production guiding harrowing stories of femme fatales and street violence in a more modern setting that often flipped the script on victims and perpetrators, as well as settings themselves. Visions of Bodies Being Burned is quite literally a continuing sequel to that explosive album, also released in time for Halloween this year; the material was recorded in the same sessions as the previous album and in the same unique vein. Consequently, there’s not really a whole lot I can say about this album in contrast with the last without getting way too in-depth and spoiling the fun. Whereas MC Daveed Diggs’ hooks were one of the biggest strong points of last year’s album, the creatively noisy production is the big star on this album. The fans seem to be leaning a bit more toward this year’s release, but I think I’m still a little partial to There Existed an Addiction to Blood. Nevertheless, Visions of Bodies Being Burned is a blood-pumping follow-up not to be missed.

Mac Miller - Circles

The posthumous release from Pennsylvanian rapper Mac Miller captures the man at his most chill and contemplative. The album is more of a minimalist ambient singer-songwriter sort of album than hip hop and its serene atmosphere becomes kind of inadvertently tragic in the posthumous context, but it serves as a beautiful swan song for the creative rapper whose struggles with addiction sadly prevented him from being able to bask in the deserved wide appreciation of his sixth album. Circles is a soulful, bittersweet cap to Mac Miller’s legacy that I think anyone will be able to feel the love and raw humanness of.

#Black Thought #Streams of Thought #Streams of Thought Vol 3 #Anna Von Hausswolff #All Thoughts Fly #The Strokes #The New Abnormal #Hexvessel #Kindred #Rina Sawayama #Sawayama #Phoebe Bridgers #Punisher #Lady Gaga #Chromatica #Shabaka and the Ancestors #We Are Sent Here by History

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mcrmadness · 3 years

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Madness draws: Behind the Scenes of the latest Farin&Bela pencil drawing.

Aka the one that’s also my icon, even when that was a big risk to take because normally I start hating the photos I have once drawn, especially if I have failed miserably. This is how the drawing itself turned out:

ATTENTION: The original post about that drawing, with better image, behind this link.

This post is solely about the process itself with lots of pictures and also plenty of gifs, because I promised to do one if people would like to see that and I got some comments saying that they’re looking forward for that. So, here’s now that post!

For starters I have to apologize for the terrible quality that is the photos. I used my phone camera only and never thought about posting them, I just took them as a reference for myself and to show the progress to a friend and only after finishing the drawing I noticed that the angle of the camera causes a huge impact on the perspective of the drawing, so I sometimes might have done useless work when I thought some perspective was wrong when it was actually the photo that was wrong and not my work! I mean, take a look at these photos of the finished piece:

You see that? I realized this when I took maybe the second photo of the Farin sheet and looked at it and couldn’t believe my eyes because I didn’t remember drawing his torsto THAT small! And then I looked at the drawing and was like “wtf???” because it looked nothing like in the photo and then it hit me...

Also, another thing that I learn was that I might need to pay more attention to the perspective of the whole thing also because when I draw, I sit at the table so I am constantly seeing the drawing from my perspective instead of looking at it from above so that’s probably also going to affect the way I draw. I try to keep that in mind in the future so I can avoid redrawing things again and again just because my perspective is different than the reference photo’s.

Also the giant forehead of Farin’s in the photo on the right might have caused me to laugh a bit too much but anyway, let’s continue~ Or more like: let’s start for real this time.

Here’s the reference photo to y’all:

What I did in photoshop was to draw a line between them to see how I can divide the photo on two A4 papers. I had been thinking about this photo for some time already because it’s one of my favorites (but now I just feel cringy looking at it after I have drawn it... goddamnit!), and I got this idea that I could try drawing it on two papers in case I fuck up so I can start over or try again without having to do twice the work! Which was actually a good decision because this was the first version of Farin:

And it was awful. I also realized I had never drawn Farin’s face from he front. I have drawn him before from the side a few times but maybe once it came out actually good so that was why I decided to do the 2 paper method - because I knew it was not going to be an easy job! Bela is relatively easy to draw so I knew already that I would not have too many problems with that one.

I struggled with Farin’s eyes the most, at first.

It took me a while to figure out how to do that white line in his lower lid. Keep in mind that this was my first face portrait in over 10 years so I was very, very rusty and I just didn’t remember how to draw like anything anymore. (The photo is tilted because Bela’s face is a bit tilted and my hand can’t draw anything that is not straight [lol] so I have to rotate the photo in order to even draw the sketch of Bela’s eyes.)

So I took my sketchbook and tried to do some eyes...

I was still struggling so much here until I remembered about blending. And I didn’t have my hopes high but grabbed the eyeshadow applicators (my fave tool for blending) anyway, and switched to my other sketchbook in case the paper was the issue and:

Blending. It was all about blending! So with that in mind, I realized I can continue and I don’t need to do these in my old way, everything doesn’t have to have a lineart done but some of the job is done not with the pencils but with the eraser.

Anyhow, the previous Farin looked really bad and was too big as well so I just discarded that and started a new sheet because the old lines were not coming off properly anymore. I don’t remember if this is the old face or new but I think this might still be the old one:

Yes it definitely is the old because look at those lines! This is the new sheet:

And in the photo you can see one of my pencils - I use Derwent Graphic pencils, it’s a 12 pencil set with very soft pencils, starting with H, F and HB and ending to 9B. With this one I used F, HB, B, 2B, 5B, 7B and 9B. The white pencil is actually my new love aka the eraser pencil Koh-I-Noor Hardmuth. It’s amazing, I recommend! I just didn’t order 10 new ones this other day. I actually used about 1,5 full eraser pencils on this drawing alone so that’s why 10.

Here’s a “little” gif of the process on Farin:

I felt crazy when I went for the shirt, and I felt like I was going crazy MEANWHILE drawing it but in the end I did it and I’m super proud of it!

Below is the reference photo, it was pain in the ass to follow all those lines with my eyes and try to find what was I drawing and where was I but I think I did good. That was a fun challenge.

Okay so, when I was done with the new lineart, I decided to go for the shading and blending because that’s what really makes the drawings to pop. I started with the left (his right, my left) side of Farin’s face because I’m right-handed, and in the first photo I had done just the left (right) eye and mouth and nose, but in the second there’s also the other eye done already:

Keep in mind this was not the last time I drew the eyes. Not even close.

Something was off with the right (left) eye so I had to do that one again and I noticed that when you blend but haven’t erased and cleaned it yet, it looks like a black eye :DDD So here’s the before and after images of that cleaning. (Cleaning = I draw, blend, erase, draw and blend more when needed and then erase again, and repeat this as many times as I need until it starts to look ready to my eye.)

So here Farin was “finished” but if you still remember the final piece or compare it to it, you might notice it looks quite different. And you’re right. But more about that later, because at this point I started to work on Bela.

It actually started really well - I also had to do the whole lineart again because it did not match the size of “finished” Farin. I don’t remember if this is the first or second eye but when I had drawn his eye for the first time, I noticed it was not in line with Farin so I had to redraw it. A gif of the progress:

What’s that brown paper I’m using, you may ask? Well I noticed that people have some sort of paper on top of their art to keep it from smudging and I have no clue what that is so here’s my poor artist recommendation: baking paper! I tested it and it works (if you just remember to keep it under your hand, that is...) so that is, in fact, baking paper! :DD

I have drawn Bela’s face a few times before and he’s just so much easier to draw. In fact I used 4-5 days on Farin but I managed to start and finish (this version of) Bela just in one day. And that means that out of 12 hours (because I literally used the whole day for drawing) I used maybe like... 5h or something on Bela. That’s how much easier he really is to draw.

I don’t know wtf is wrong with Farin’s face but he’s extremely difficult to draw and I’m not the only one who has been saying this. I guess he just looks so regular but still unique enough to be difficult to draw. Bela then again has features that are very unique and very... caricature-like? I mean that just by drawing his nose or chin you can make a comic book Bela look exactly like himself, and with more realistic style his eyes already do a lot, but Farin’s really the opposite. My comic book version of Farin is literally the most basic version I can draw, it’s how I draw those characters and the only thing that makes him look himself is the hair, and his nose in a side profile. So I think that’s why it’s so difficult to draw him because he doesn’t look too regular but still regular enough to make is a very challenging task to do properly.

So yeah, the same day as I started working on Bela, I was also “finished” with the drawing:

Also look at how different it looks like from this perspective:

With the reference photo open in photoshop and I don’t understand how Bela looks more like himself in my drawing than in the photo. Also when I showed the WIP to my brother, he said that I somehow had succeeded at making Farin look more like Farin than what he does in the photo even. It’s weird.

But we were still far from finished. I was going to use the fixative on this soon but it just kept snowing the whole week so I couldn’t so every time I walked past the drawings, I stopped to fix this and that. For days I kept telling myself “I’m done, I can’t do more than this, I can’t do better than this.” and considered the drawing finished but still kept fixing things. Every time I was “done” with the other drawing, I saw something to fix in the other one and once that was done, I felt like the first one wasn’t as good and had to fix something from it too. And that led to a cycle where the other drawing was always better than the other and the worse one needed to be fixed. In the end I was hating the whole process and myself and my skills and I was already ready to abandon this whole thing and call it a day and never ever show it to anyone “because I cannot draw”. The photo above, here’s a list of things I redrew after that:

Bela’s eyes, the right (left) one at least twice.

Bela’s nose.

Bela’s mouth a couple of times.

Farin’s eyes x588045028520

And a list of things I kept fixing and fixing:

Bela’s chin.

Bela’s neck shadows.

Bela’s hairline.

Farin’s whole face was tilted so I tried to fix that.

Farin’s face was too wide, which meant also partially redrawing the ear.

Farin’s hair was too long and wide too.

Farin’s nose.

Farin’s mouth might be the only thing I drew only once and I’m actually still extremely proud of how it came to be. I did the lips solely with blending so that was super exciting to notice how I can use it for drawing and don’t need the pencils for everything!

During Bela’s eyes and nose and mouth especially I was hating myself so much and I felt like I was taking the risk of ruining the whole thing and a few times I was certain that was what I had just done too, until I somehow was able to save it again. But because of that, I wasn’t able to make Bela’s mouth any lighter anymore, the color wasn’t just coming off the paper so had to use what was there and make it look like it’s how it’s supposed to be, too.

Here’s a gif about those changes on Bela - the first one has the old eyes and nose, the others have minor changed on the nose and mouth:

(The blacks probably don’t get any blacker in reality, I did add more color to it all the time but mainly it’s just the lighting and my phone camera changing the brightness.)

I did the final details on his nose without even using the reference photo anymore. The photo didn’t seem to make any sense anymore at all so I was just using my mechanical pencil and the blending tool and eraser to make is look better. To my eye it looked more like a very flat nose with a big tip of the nose and he doesn’t have a flat nose and I tried to get rid of that illusion. I still feel like it makes him look bit weird but I’m not entirely sure how. Maybe it was because of my improvisation, idk...

So, Bela was then finally finished for the last time. In the Farin piece his left (right) eye had been bugging me the whole time and I didn’t want to touch it but still I felt like I have to do something about it because it was bugging me way too much. I then figured I could draw the eye line by line and take a photo of it each time to see if it looks right already or not, maybe I could then avoid doing all the phases before I was sure what to think about it. I mean, now the only way to see if it was correct was to draw e.g. an eye from start to finish, I couldn’t see from just the lineart or unblended eye if it was in the right spot etc. And here’s that progress on a gif:

The gif about only the eye would look so nice if Tumblr didn’t make the gifs so HUGE - this one is actually only 300px or 400px or something:

Apparently I also wasn’t happy with the other eye because:

But good thing is: I really enjoy drawing eyes. I love seeing them to “come alive”, my favorite part was to eraser a bit of the color on the iris to make them look like they are actually shiny! It feels like something so small to do and yet it makes a huge impact on the drawing!

And here’s yet another gif of the whole Farin sheet with all of the changes, including the last changes that made his head narrower, and less tilted and more in line. Look at the left side of his head especially to see that:

I can also see his nose changing between the first few photos. I keep forgetting about that but yeah, I also fixed that a little at some point.

And last but not least, the whole drawing in some sort of a timelapse gif:

Last two are the same but just a photo and the scan of the finished drawing. I still keep seeing things I would do differently but no can do, I already used fixative on it, also to keep myself from obsessing with it any more :D And to use it as a study of some sort. I have never been able to draw a perfect pencil drawing and this isn’t one either. I probably never can draw perfect drawings from references.

I do enjoy the whole shading and blending process, so much so that when I was editing these photos, I just wanted to start drawing something so bad but I also figured that I start to lose motivation when I get to the point where everything should be finished but I just can’t make it perfect. Like the current WIP I have, all I should do is to get the proportions and perspective and the lines of their faces correctly and I would be ready but it feels more like a superpower some people possess and I’m not one of those. I don’t know what is it but I just feel that I cannot see. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can’t see what I try to do and somehow keep drawing everything the wrong way. Just like in this post’s drawing too. There’s still things that are wrong and I know what it is but I don’t know how to solve it. My hands just don’t listen to me and they can’t do what I think they should. I also think the reason I cannot draw perfect copies of photos is because you can always see my “handprint” in them. If I copy a photo, it will look like a photo and not like a drawing made by me. So I believe that in my drawing there’s always a part of me visible and I’m not entirely sure if it’s a good thing or not. On bad days it’s not a good thing, obviously. On good days? Well I guess it’s good then because it just means I have my own style which I really should appreciate. But I wish I had my style only when I want it to be visible, but I can’t control it. Just like I cannot write text by hand that would look like it was written with a computer, so I guess I should just try to get used to it, no matter how much it’d bug me sometimes.

#mcrmadness draws #mcrmadness draws: behind the scenes #dä fanart #die ärzte

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